Wings Of Fire Characters Book 1 소설 & 이야기

You cannot… It didn’t finish, because the fire moved from us. The white blaze poured outward, sculpting itself into form. Wings, yes, but not of flame alone. They carried weight, shape, bone made of light, feathers cut from fire. They unfurled behind us, vast enough to brush the hollow walls, each beat scattering roots like brittle twigs. The girl gasped, her voice a ragged prayer. “Saints… you’re… ” But she couldn’t name it, neither could I.

But everything about him and me was the same, except for his beautiful golden eyes, which were flaming, his sliver white hair, which swirled with the air currents, and his gigantic white wings, which were bleeding. He was wounded! I almost had the impression that I was gazing into a mirror as he returned my vacuous glance. Not only were his wings leaking, but also both of his palms were gushing with blood, and blood immediately seeped through his shirt where his heart was. "He's going to ruin you, he's going to taint you!" He suddenly spoke and a shriller gasp sheared out of me as fire escalated around him in a circle and slowly, the fire inched toward him till it began to burn his skin. Whi

"I would never let you die." Hope whispered to me. Then she let go of me and stood beside me with a corner smile, confident, she made a simple motion with her hand and that reddish shape spread further, like wings, but not just any wings, they were Dragon wings. As the wings passed through the shadows and places a bluish flame appeared and began to burn everything that wasn't solid. I could tell the shadows were writhing and screaming, they were screams of agony as they were consumed, the runes of protection disappeared and the magic that was in the place dissipated, but these flames didn't hit us, it was as if the people who were with me were immune to them.

I can see the faint outline of what looks like wings spread behind her. Wings of fire that seem to take the shape of a heart… A piercing scream rips through the air as her power increases tenfold and surges into the sky, emanating in waves around her. I see the swirls of the flames behind her move before I see a tiny part of her left wing snap and shrivel into embers of ash. It’s too blinding to look at, and I’m forced to avert my gaze.

She zapped past her in a fevered attempt to sneak out of the door, but that never happened as she felt something burn. She felt the heat before realization hit her that it was her wings. And then a force yanked her back, so hard that she crashed against the opposite follow. The back of her head collided. “The book. Give back the book.” A deadly voice demanded, but she had no strength to protest, no energy to escape. She knew she would not make it out of here. The book slid out from her unconscious hands.

Every other time one of her past selves had died Lawrence s release from the flames and into the Announcer had been simultaneous. Something was different; something that was making her see things that couldnt possibly be real. Wings on fire. Daniel! she cried out. What looked like Daniels wings soared through waves of flames, catching fire but not smoldering, as if they were made of fire. All she could make out were white wings and violet eyes. Daniel? The fire rolled across the darkness like a giant wave across an ocean. It crashed onto an invisible shore and washed furiously over Lawrence , rushing up her body, over her head, and far behind her.

His presence was steady, unyielding, even as his voice cracked with urgency. “Don’t let it take you, Xenia! Stay with me!” The Architect only watched, hands folded inside their dark sleeves, their hood angled as if this was all… entertainment. My anger burned hotter than my flames. “You think this is a game?” I roared. I got a response from the fire. After stretching and twisting, it took the form of wings extending from my shoulders and a flurry of sparks encircling me. The wolves stumbled, hissing where my wings touched their smoky bodies.

My heart races in dread when it became clear this isn’t part of the game. The hand lit by orange flames makes my eyes widen in trepidation, and I slowly crawl backwards on my hands, a tremble on my lips as the image of the figure with a large hood over his head suddenly becomes familiar to me. Only, instead of a sword, he’s wielding fireballs instead.

I tell him. "So, you're telling me that some goddess has given me to you?" He asks. I laugh, "When you put it like that, it makes it almost sound heinous. Let me tell you a story so you may better understand,” I say. “Actually, you might recognize the first part of this story,” I tell him. “And why is that?” He questions. “Because the goddess in this story is Alira the same one that the Fires were named after,” I say.

I whispered before my eyes closed. Opening my eyes slowly, I wiggled my body, I was bonded by my hands, hanging from something. Looking around my eyes immediately on the self-lit braziers in the corners, brightening the room with its fierce blaze. Apart from them, there was nothing in the room, just a mental door, with swords above it, and a large window, it was night. I don't where I am, or where Amber is, and— Al... Poor Al, I thought, wondering if he was safe or not. The door sang open, and a woman with stunning blue eyes like Al's entered. Her black dress with glimmering stones hugged her body, shoving her breast upwards towards her chin. The train attached to it moved effortlessly behi