Whiteout Wings Of Fire Novels & Stories

I also appreciate honest critics as well. I promise that when I’m back, you’ll have a far more adventurous writing of Fire on Fire Book 2: ELIJAH. Thank you guys so much. Happy holidays!

The thick shadow of the dragon spread its wings and soared into the sky, flattened out, covering the sun. In the depths of the rift that split the Valley, white flashed, moved, resembling a rising wave, and sharply approached the edge. Vic himself didn’t understand when he took this step under the open sky, the air hummed under the wings, the burning heat of sunlight breathed into his face and ... did no harm. He felt himself flying, below the cracked wasteland of the valley flashed by, a huge gap flashed by and skeletons climbing to its edge, and a huge, winged shadow spread over his head.

I know what I must do, what we all must do. To my left, Akin stands tall, his obsidian wings sharp and sleek, the wind tugging at his tunic as his eyes sweep the battlefield like a soldier gauging his next strike. To my right, River’s wings are the color of deep, angry storms. They shift with energy, crackling faintly as his fists curl at his sides. The fire in him burns steady now, no longer a threat but a force I can trust.

Of course, she is a hybrid; she has the power of both her parents. We fly closer to the palace and hover with every powerful flap of our wings. More fire is directed at the palace. More pikes and large boulders are thrown at us. We fly higher out of range. We pick up speed and freefall backwards, our wings wrapped around us as we torpedo towards the palace. The wind and smoke twirling around us as we open our wings again, pushing more flames out as parts of the palace crumble and explode under the intensity of the heat.

"You’re the one who whispered to me in the dark when the Council was carving into my bones. You’re the 'Extinction' they were so afraid of." The figure—the Red-Winged Dante—stepped into the light. It was a perfect, terrifying blend of us. It had Dante’s lethal, massive frame and his predator’s stance, but from its spine erupted a pair of wings that were an exact, burning replica of mine. They weren't made of "Void-Lead" or "Obsidian-Gold." They were made of Primal Fire, a deep, arterial red that seemed to drink the light from the room.

She waved one last time at Calix before Charlie turned the engine on and they started driving toward the shadows of Knoxville—toward a man who burned bodies, and maybe a few truths that hadn’t yet been turned to ash. One piece at a time.

He added quickly, angrily, as if hating the softness in himself: “Don’t make me regret it.” Then he turned away, leaving Elara with the unspoken truth burning between them— The Fire King was not cold. He was burning too hot to touch.

If he wants to live past the next three nights, he will come clean to me. The smile on my face widens as I make my way towards Ronan. He sees me and smirks with a questioning look in his eyes. A white bird blocks my path and practically runs over to meet Ronan. My head recoils to the back, clearly taken back by the sudden intrusion. Turns out the bird is actually a female dressed in white satin camisole with ruffled faux feathers. She grabs onto Ronan's left arm and squeals in his ear like a spoil brat. Ronan's face is blank and expressionless and it makes me smile in triumph.

Give in. I closed my eyes and felt him deep inside me. I felt him clawing away in there, and I let go, dropping whatever barrier was holding him back. A ring of fire spread across my eyes. My entire body was a light yellow fire with bright orange and red tips. Wings erupted from my shoulder blades, spreading wide beside me. They were covered in orange and deep red flames. Every step I took turned the sand on the shore into glass.

It lifted its head from deep blue fire, its wings edged in ash white and gold-red. No throne. No family crest. No name pressed over its own. It rose from the flames and flew forward. Living only for itself.