Wings Concept Novels & Stories

I have never seen such beautiful wings in my entire life. His crimson-red wings are described as metallic with each feather sharp like a precision blade. Each feather/blade has the top part crimson with the hairs or fibres sticking out of the sides, while the end of the blade itself is black. I really envy him. Why does he have to have such beautiful wings? Why is mine not like his? I cried in my mind and again looked up at him. He was waiting for me to go up. So I spread my wings too and flew up to complete the rest of the fight.

I wanted to shut my eyes, but I couldn’t. I had not regained control over myself. I was high in the sky. My fear of falling to the ground made me pray for a safe landing. I didn’t know how it was possible for me to even fly. I had never noticed wings on my back before, but remembering what I saw in the memory orb of my father, I knew Faiths had translucent and delicate paper-like wings. They looked like those of a dragonfly. I must have had them as well.

“This arena that you were saying. Where exactly are they planning to put it up and when is construction starting?” Rico pulled out a long rolled up paper and laid it out on the table. He pinned the corners to make sure it would stay in place. “The west wing aren’t sure yet where it will be placed but it seems that they are dumping their construction materials near the Burner.” Rico replied while encircling on his map the location of the burner. In the middle of their meeting, there came knocking frantically on the metallic door. Rico rush to the door and with his croaky voice he asked,

the doctor asks. “Yeah, they crashed the truck so I could escape.” “Now why would the Council bring an angel to the Cage? That place is only supposed to be for uncontrollable shifters and weres,” he murmurs. “I don’t have any wings.” I frown a little at his immediate smirk. “Angels without wings are a rare and dangerous breed,” he drawls. “I was born with wings, the Council just took mine from me.” “They must be terrified of you. I’ve never heard of a child without wings.”

My heart stuttered with a new kind of satisfaction. Then Axel pushed further. “Wings, remember the wings. Let them breathe with your shoulders. They are as balanced as blades.” I felt the skin at my back tighten. The familiar ache precluded their unfurling, but under it there was no avalanche of fury now only raw power that I could cradle. I stretched my wings a hair’s breadth. The tips sliced through the morning air with a whisper and the faintest sparkle along the edges where metal met feather. Ariella’s breath hitched, and I realized how many things I’d never let myself see as beautiful.

I knelt so we were eye‑level. He bent forward, too. I opened it. Inside gleamed the tiny kitten, with etched wings and clay fur painted in soft cream and gray. It looked like it belonged in his palm. “It’s for your keychain,” I said, voice steady. “A little reminder.” He smiled wider, brushing a fingertip over the delicate wings. “It’s perfect.” I watched how he held it, careful, grateful. Then he let the charm rest in his palm and lifted his hand to reach for mine. I didn’t hesitate. My fingers curled around his.

The audience erupted in thunderous applause, and several world-renowned dancers gave us rave reviews. Marissa wheeled me to center stage. Since the incident, this was my first time stepping onto a stage again as a choreography consultant. I bowed my head alongside the other dancers, grateful for the audience's support. This time, the flashing cameras and the eyes of strangers didn't scare me. I felt like I had found a new purpose. … Three years later, I choreographed a dance called "The Fallen Butterfly." I performed it entirely from my wheelchair and became the first dancer of my kind.

I nodded and swallowed hard. “Now retrieve your wings, honey.” “What wings? I have wings!” My eyes nearly popped out of each socket. My heart pounded so hard in my rib cage, and I instantly felt the air pulsing around us. I didn’t want to look behind me over my shoulder. I was scared for it to be true. “You’re not helping, Sebastien,” Zarah said cautiously. “Not wings like physical wings. They’re glowing, like 3D lights, the same as when you summoned the fire, but yes, you have wings,” Ren tried to explain but I completely understood what he meant.

I pushed him a few inches away from me, “…marriage.” “But I can’t leave you alone. You don’t even have wings to get out of the suite to eat.” “Jake will escort me and look after me,” I replied with a wicked smile. He rested his forehead against mine and looked into my shining eyes. His forearms, sinking into the mattress beside my head, supported him; then he buried his hands in my hair. I felt my strands twist around his long fingers, which kept my head from moving. He spread his wings, drawing them into the center of my attention. Nathan’s black wings made him feel so stronger and larger that, lying beneath him, I felt increasingly fragile. Their feathers absorbed the sunset’s rays and gle

He took great care not to touch its wings as he tried to help it take flight once more. Damascus quietly whispered words of encouragement as it flapped it wings. The dove stopped and looked up at him as if it understood everything he had been saying. Damascus stopped talking and stared back at it. Suddenly the dove flapped its wings and left the cradle of his hands. It flew up and hovered for a moment. As if silently thanking him.