Wings Of Fire Glory Fanart Novels & Stories

When her eyes meet mine, I try to speak. No sound comes out. She watches me struggle for a moment before smiling. Not kindly. Not cruelly either. It is the smile of someone finally seeing a truth they have known for a very long time. I wake with a gasp. Heat rushes through my body. My hands press hard against the sheets and I realize immediately— They are burning. Not the usual hidden warmth I’ve learned to control. Real fire. I jerk upright. My palms are untouched. The sheets are not. Two blackened handprints stain the fabric beneath me, dark and perfect, every curve of my fingers burned clearly into the cloth.

Avery looked up, startled for a moment before her face softened with a smile of her own. “Just a little more,” she admitted. “I was going through the Book of Hestia, trying to understand more about the connection between fire and healing.” I stepped behind her and placed my hands on her shoulders, beginning to knead the tension out of them. “You’ve done enough for today, love. You should rest.” She hummed softly, leaning into my touch. “I will… soon. There’s just so much to learn.” As I continued to massage her shoulders, I noticed her doodling something familiar on the corner of her book. A swirling blue flame. “What’s that?” I asked, curious.

Rhett coughed out. Aislen shook her head and jumped to grasp the top of the wall and pull herself up. The bricks were warm under her skin, almost enough to burn. Within the courtyard, there was a scorch mark radiating out from a central point, where Ember stood utterly naked, wings spread. The wings were not wings as Samuel’s were, like those of a bat covered in black membrane, rather Ember’s wings were those of fire, the flickering flame generating enough heat to lift the ends of her long red hair.

The thing that had whispered “Arkana.” “I’m not your vessel,” I shouted. “But I am your gate.” And I opened. The altar cracked. The ceiling split. And Logan rose again—eyes wide, voice deep, filled with the roar of a thousand dying stars. “BLOOD WEARS THE THRONE.” The cult screamed. And burned. Lily The flames didn’t stop. Long after the cult screamed, long after their bodies became dust on the wind, the fire raged. Not wild. Not erratic. It danced. Controlled. Conscious.

"Wanda, did you hurt Jilly again?" Jillian had pulled this wounded act more than once. Every time, she'd go running to him, Mom, and Dad, crying. Harvey was so used to it by now that anytime she got hurt, he just assumed it was me. "It wasn't me. She burned herself," I muttered. Harvey didn't buy a word. "You definitely told her to cook, and that's how this mess started! Cut the crap. Do you really think I don't have you figured out?

“That’s wonderful, how do you keep it still?” “Concentration.” She relaxes her control a little and the flames starts moving slowly. He reaches towards it and she grips his wrist, “This is Phoenix fire, water won’t put it out.” He nods, and pulls his hand back and grabs his notebook and pencil to start sketching while she thinks. It takes her a few minutes to find a design she likes. She freezes that flame and starts on the next, the rook this time. This continues for a few minutes and then she has one half of a full set, and Merlin comes over and studies them.

"Nimalaya moved from one house to another, setting everything ablaze out of anger. Her blue flame looks beautiful as the sun reflects its bright hue. The cries of humans and demons burning wouldn't make one marvel at the beauty of the flame. It looked beautiful but dangerous. It was nothing but a death sentence. The cries of mercy resounded in the air that carried the stench of burning flesh. Her face was the last thing people were seeing before her fire burned them to crisps. Summoning demonic spirits, she would make sure some people couldn't flee. While everything was burning down, she flew up in the sky, her majestic black wings towering above victims of her wrath, as she resumed her mass

We stayed there for a while, watching the fireflies illuminate the garden around us, basking in that perfect moment when we finally found our way back to each other’s arms, knowing this time, nothing could keep us apart and our love was stronger than it was before. “Hunter…” “Yes, angel?” “When you were blind, you touched my face often so you could imagine what I looked like. When you finally saw me… saw my scars… what were your first thoughts of me?” He tightened his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “I realized that my imagination wasn’t nearly as good as I thought it was. Because you were far more beautiful than I ever imagined you would be. No wonder Anderson did whatever he

But the bird never wasted its chance, breathing in then blasting swirling fire towards him. Arth found it impossible to dodge on air, so he cast Glacies Materia and summoned an enormous frozen shield in front of him to block the fire. The force itself, however, shoved Arth back, until he slammed against the roof of a building. He muttered a curse. The beast flew up once again. Then it charged down towards Arth, this time with its beak glowing, ready to blast another fire. Arth got on his feet, then lunged towards the side, landing on the next roof. The bird threw the fire, but it missed.

She smelt of rain. Misha always smelt of flowers. She... She smelt of rain. Suddenly, Axel wished it was raining. * The two figures came closer, Fire and Ice, with the moon shining at both of them, glad that they would meet under Her watchful gaze, smiling when the two clashed finally and would prove once and for all, the power of love itself. Let the magic begin.