Winged Devil Novels & Stories

They are innocent. The air thickened, shadows coiling like serpents from the throne's base. The figure rose, cloak falling away to reveal his true form—a devil incarnate, towering and grotesque. Skin like charred obsidian stretched over a frame of whipcord muscle, wings of leathery membrane unfurling from his back, tattered at the edges with veins of molten red. Horns spiraled fully now, jagged and black, curling like a crown of thorns. Cloven hooves scraped the stone as he stepped down, tail lashing with barbed tip, and those eyes... they burned brighter, promising eternities of torment. Fangs gleamed in a maw that split into a grin too wide for any mortal face, sulfurous breath fogging the

"You! Who betrayed the kingdom! Kill her!" When the devils they called is in front of them now! The devils wore chains and hard vest. They are coloured in red! They had horns, tails, and tattoos all over their body. And so run they ran at Luis Park and the company. "Butt!" "Yes, master!" Butt replied. Then Butt move fastly! And spin to stop the upcoming devils. "Echolocation!" Butt floats and howled an ear-piercing sound.

She sits straight up in bed, “Do you want to tell me that not only do you get Angels, but fucking heaven is for real.” With only a small wicked smile, I pull her back into my arms, “Where do you think I come from?” She goes dead quiet; then there is the very thing that I knew would happen, her body starts to tremble. It does not even take her but a mere five seconds and she pushes me away. “Are you really the Devil?” “Yes, my love, I am the Devil’s son.” “Then that means that you come from that pit of burning fire where all people fall when they have sinned.”

I tell them. “Interesting. Did he have wings?” my dad asks. I nod. “Did his wings have feathers or were they leathery?” “His wings had navy feathers. They reminded me of the night sky just after the sun sets.” I tell him. “Hmmm. Dark colored wings, whether they are covered in feathers or a leathery membrane is a demon trait,” my dad muses. “Is there anything else that you noticed about him?” my mother asks. I think fodr a moment and then reply, “Yes, he also was able to produce flames, but his were the color of actual fire.”

Dominic went very still. “They didn’t authorize this,” he said. Vale’s eyes gleamed. “They didn’t need to.” My pulse slowed into razor focus. “This was never just Helix Crown,” I said. Vale inclined his head. “At last.” “You’re testing internal fracture.” “Yes.” “Using me as the wedge.” “Yes.” Dominic stepped closer to my side, shoulder touching mine, presence like a drawn blade. “Then the test fails,” he said softly. Vale smiled wider. “We’ll see,” he answered. And the building locks counted down.

Another escape. Ayra turned to fire again but paused. “Wait.” A new vehicle emerged into the chaos. Huge. Growling. An armored car, jet-black, bristling with reinforced panels and steel fenders. It bulldozed one of the enemy SUVs off the road with terrifying ease, then pulled alongside another and rammed it against a wall. “What the hell?” Ayra gasped. “Not ours,” Lucian said tightly. “Could be friendly. Or just someone who hates Benedict more.”

He was still the Etruscan Charun, the underworld daemon, but instead of a mallet to deliver finishing blows, this executioner carried on his back a pair of then folded wings that seemed to consist of a thousand iron feathers, like those armor-piercing arrowheads of the sagittarii; only each one of them is intricate and polished to razor-sharpness. I have heard of such a creature only in rumors: the Avalerion. Larger than an eagle and lord over all birds. Plumage the color of fire and wings and talons that could cut through flesh and bone. Only a pair is said to exist at any time. It was little wonder that the heralds would portray it as a bird without a beak – and without feet! Quite belated

All the shadows that swirl in the wind gets sucked into the stone circle, and the symbols on the stone rim start to glow silverish. From the gelatinous material, the devil emerges. He looks the same as before, but I can feel power exude from him as if it’s a tangible thing. The wind doesn’t stop, but it whips through his long, coal-colored hair, making the locks dance around his face as if he’s a goth version of Medusa.

So in a way, I truly deserve the name La Diabla because I'm the devil's spawn. "That doesn't excuse what you did. He raised you, fed and clothed us. How could you do that?" "With a knife" "What?" "You keep asking how I could do that. With a knife, Andres. I used a knife" Blood drains from his face "You don't even regret it"

He is so dictatorial that he does not allow a bird to fly into his territory; even if he encounters a suspicious person near the border, he brutally executes him. The existence of the wolf race stretched over the years, roughly for more than a hundred years, but there were only five werewolves known as demons. It's the title for the most brutal and bloodthirsty wolves in history, and there's nothing more honorable than having my mate top that list. "A monster!" I mumbled. Vincent looked down at me, his eyes as cold as Antarctic ice. Surely like me, he wasn't happy to be paired with me either. And soon, I need to refuse this terrible fate.