Wings Of Fire Darkstalker Novels & Stories

As the witch drew in breath, the flits floated away from Rori, and as they passed further from her, Rori could hear the sound of fading screams. Rori shoved her hands above her head and lifted her toes to a ballet point before she spun around four times as quickly as she could. The action halted whatever spell Mina seemed to have on the flits and as the witch sucked further, the flits released Murdok’s flame and the wall of dragon fire sailed through the air, blasting Mina in the face. The sudden rush of powerful flames caused Mina to scream in pain and as she tried to cover her burning face, she felt the flames dig into her arm like a rabid dog.//

Alexander pulled me back, shielding me with his body. "Te invoco, princeps daemoniorum," she repeated the phrase over and over, and each word seemed to fuel the fire. It grew higher and higher, and I feared it might set our room ablaze. But then, just as quickly, the fire seized, and a smoky figure appeared before us. He had pure black wings, and his hair matched the darkness of his wings. His eyes shone a piercing blue. “Hello, Brother.”

He held a scythe in his hands that sent shivers to whomever looked at it. Then there was Lysandra Blaze, the Fire Seraph. Her flaming red hair matched the intensity of her pyrokinesis abilities. She was infamous for her volatile nature, a woman whose temper and fire abilities were both equally fierce. Beside her stood Ivander Gale, the Wind Seeker, his calm demeanor betraying the hurricane-like powers he could summon at will.

Ash still drifted in the air like black snow, settling over ruins that had once been Dawnspire’s proud walls. Serenya’s lungs burned with smoke and power as she struggled to hold herself aloft. Her new wings—woven of starlight and fire—shivered with exhaustion, dimming at the edges. Below, Thalric’s broken crown lay in shards, but the man himself rose from the ashes, alive, his form cloaked in a new and terrible shadow.

“But you’ll be gone.” And then I moved. Faster than his eyes could track, faster than the witches could react. My fire took over. No more compromises. No more second chances. No more mercy. I felt it before I moved. The shift. My body became flame incarnate, no longer flesh but vengeance wrapped in heat. My wings of fire unfurled behind me—massive, burning brighter than anything I had ever conjured before. I wasn’t walking anymore. I was gliding, a being of wrath.

Riko, quiet, to himself: “Let the cops chase shadows. We’ll be gone before they find the smoke.” He looked at the house one last time—then toward the horizon, still black. Riko, to Milo and Ozzy: “Burn what’s left.” Milo moved to the gas cans. Ozzy grabbed a matchbox. The van pulled away into the mist, carrying the girls to another prison. … Later. The station’s fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as DI Jackson “Jax” Reyes marched down the hallway, mud still on his boots and soot smeared on the cuffs of his jacket. His jaw was locked, his face unreadable—except for the tightness around his eyes.

He could not help but wonder how easy it would have been had his wolf been not suppressed by the dark witch. Suddenly, from above, a swarm of Wraithwings descended, their ghostly forms merging into a tempest of shrieks that reverberated through the air like a banshee's wail. Flameheart pivoted, raising his blade to meet their assault, slicing through the air as they swooped down, their claws poised to tear him apart.

The fight felt endless as I let go of my burning bow and unsheathed the sword, my amethyst flames consuming the blade. I had raced out and ended those that were cutting into the dragon as he fought those that Shifted. But their numbers were large and a dragon could only move so quickly in his massive size. He was bleeding deeply on his back after a handful of Shifters managed to get onto him, hanging on after he’d shook off a few others. So I raced up his wing and drew the sword, slicing, cutting and shoving anyone that dared to attack from behind.

Zachary glanced at me. Instead of getting mad, he scrutinized me apathetically. Wynnie, who was beside him, suddenly said, "Mr. Lowe, Yas has shown talent as a pilot since she was young. She got her license when she was 18. At 22, she has already outperformed many experienced pilots. She's made it this far through her own efforts." Wynnie's voice was as gentle as her smile in the photo from 20 years ago.

Stripes. Burning across my body like fire. The air itself seemed to change. The wolves hesitated. Just for a second. That was their mistake. I moved. Faster than before. Stronger. Unstoppable. I tore through them. No hesitation now. No strategy. Just dominance. One after another. They fell. Until only one remained. Celdor stepped forward. Finally. I tilted my head slightly, blood dripping from my jaw. “You should have stayed hidden.” He didn’t respond.