Wings Of Fire 16 Novels & Stories

Our family. Caden lights the boat. A moment of peace. Then— Explosions. Fireballs erupt from the trees, from the ground, from the sky. Screams erupt again. Humans flood our land with machine guns and war cries, turning sacred ground into a battlefield. Blood spills into the lake as I drag Caden behind cover, the scent of betrayal coating the air. ——— The city burns red with war. I stand soaked in blood, Caden at my side, unshakable. His fire dances across his skin like a crown of vengeance. Behind us, wolves from every pack rise—Alphas, Betas, Warriors. United. Deadly.

He was just standing in the sunlight, and Ravi squinted as he saw something gleaming in the man's hand. Ravi focused his vision further to ensure that the object the man held wasn't what he thought it was. The man's hand moved, still gazing, and Ravi's eyes widened when he could see clearly. Ravi froze, subconsciously gripping Raymond's wrist tightly. He saw a shimmering sword smeared with red liquid that was undoubtedly blood. But it didn't end there. Ravi froze further without realizing it, tightening his hold on Raymond's wrist as he observed the man's wings, which were white and almost identical to Raymond's. The wings flapped, and he flew away somewhere.

Then, I took out an A3 paper from the briefcase and spread it across the table. It was a curved flight path, overlapping on the city map. "This is the flight path of the Cessna with the registration number B-10YZ between 2:00 pm and 4:00 pm on the same day. This aircraft…" I stared at him. "…is owned by Zach Airways." A flicker of tension crossed Zachary's face. Under the light, his face turned as pale as a sheet as he swallowed hard. Mike fixed his eyes on the two documents for a long time before he gradually raised his head. "Mr. Zachary, this weather report…"

He looked at me with eyes full of terror—the look of a man who knew he had failed. ​“The West Wing is a furnace, ma'am!” a firefighter shouted, his voice muffled by his mask. “The fire started in the crawlspace—it went up like tinder! We can’t get a team inside yet!” ​I looked up. The West Wing. The stone was blackened, and orange flames were licking out of the windows like greedy tongues. ​That was Finn’s wing. He was supposed to be napping. I left him sleeping. ​“Finn!” I screamed, the sound tearing my throat raw. I tried to run toward the heat, toward the screaming orange light, but a pair of strong arms caught me around the waist.

When I was almost upon it, the creature's face turned, twisted, that awful smile lighting up its molten features, and it rose almost to its feet, its wings opening up fully, the golden hue of its feathers dazzling my eyes. I blinked away the glaring light, but refused to stop, holding out my arms. Beneath my skin the blue veins were glowing, growing brighter with each step closer that I took, and then when the Power was just a few metres away, it burned the brightest of all, the heat erupting from my hands. The fireball hit the Angel's wings with so much force that it was flung backwards where it rolled, desperately trying to extinguish the flames. These were no ordinary flames though and I

It wasn’t her though; it was Osline, but it’s still the same thing. I had to burn my hand to match the exact pain she’s probably feeling, to punish myself. I know it’s crazy, but like I said, I can’t help it. After I rinse away the spilled coffee, I open the cupboard and pull out my lighter. For a moment my stomach drops. I stare at it, heart racing in my ribs. I flick the flame and press it to my arm. I hold back my scream as it keeps burning me. This is what happens when I can’t stop thinking about ‘her’ I have to hurt myself until I can stop.

He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he drew close, the sting of the saltwater in his eyes as the droplets caught in his eyelashes on their passage down to his cheeks. “There is no pain,” she was as shocked by the development as he was. “The flames do not burn me.” He reached out carefully but could not touch the flames. They burnt as hot as dragon flame. “They do not burn me, but I can feel their heat,” he told her. “Flaming wings… That was… not what I expected.” “Me either,” she looked at him wild-eyed. “Do you suppose that I could…” “Yes,” he followed her gaze when she looked skywards. “Do it, Ember.”

A large pair of wings made from fire had sprouted from his back sometime in the clutter and he was flapping them wildly. With every flap he spread air to the already raging fire below him. The ice shards melted instantly under the extreme heat. “His wings, go for the wings!” Raphael shouted, and he was right. I instantly forged a staff from ice and sent it hurtling through the air towards his wings. I thought because it was made of more ice than the shards it would withstand, but It melted before it even reached his wings.

I summoned my wings, and red wings flapped on my back as my body rose in the air and out of the hell of fire. Lucien’s eyes widened at the sight of me as he staggered backward and sat up. He built a barrier between him and me, but I watched as he inched backward on his ass as I slowly walked toward him. My hands were raised with my palms up, and fire emitted from them, but in between them, shards of big thorn-like spikes were dancing around.

I let out a hollow laugh as I heard Benedict's explanation. "Benedict, spare me the nonsense. If things were really as you said, I might feel wronged, but I wouldn't be divorcing you over it. "Do you think I don't know? When a firefighter is faced with a life-or-death choice, the protocol is to save the closest person first. I was clearly nearer to you. Celestine was lagging far behind because she ran slower. Yet, you didn't even look at me—you went straight to her.