Wings Of Fire Lore Book Novels & Stories

"But I'll have to leave right now." "No—" The word tore out of me as fire lunged up my throat again, and this time it wasn't fully contained. A thin ribbon of flame licked past my teeth, scorching the air an inch from her face. She didn't flinch. "Wait—" My wings ripped free from my back, unfurling wide enough to knock over two desks. Smoke poured from my nostrils in ragged pulses. Somewhere above the roaring in my skull, I heard the wolf girl's scent—something like pine and old rain—and it snagged on a memory I couldn't place, gone before I could grab it.

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.

My vision spins, but I push myself back up. I can’t stop now. The beast comes at me again. I close my eyes and dig deep. I feel the power inside me…the light, the fire, the part of me that’s growing stronger every day. I let it rise. My body lifts off the ground again, and this time, wings made of silver flames burst from my back. They shimmer like moonlight. I fly straight at the beast, dodging its claws and slamming a ball of fire into its head. It screams and stumbles, but still doesn’t fall.

My words did nothing but enrage him further, and he started to run towards me, hands outstretched ready to place them around my neck. But, before he could reach me, the familiar sounds of large wings flapping in the air met my ears. Fallon and I both looked up, Thale’s red dragon suspended above us. He exhaled flames in Fallon’s direction, although missing him so as to make sure I was not caught in the cross-fire. I needed to get further away.

The witch slyly narrowed her eyes, directing her penetrating, magical gaze straight in my direction as I stood rigidly beside Eren. Swift as lightning, she reached across the wood and seized hold of my hand too. We were now standing incredibly awkwardly in a weird circle, with only the old wooden counter serving as a physical hindrance between us. With a booming, echoing voice that rattled the glass flower cases, she continued her prophecy. “A creature with bony wings, soaring towards a hazardous blaze, seeking command of fire’s reign. But as destiny’s script unfolds, and the almighty spell out its warnings, anticipate a fracture in the firmament, where even the boldest aspirations may crumb

“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.

Avina. The woman who once destroyed empires, who bent kings and warriors to her will, who walked through fire and left kingdoms in ruin. I had not seen her in this life, not truly, but in my blood there was memory, and in those memories her face was carved like a flame into stone, my hand trembled as I reached for the book that bore her mark, the crest of fire and ash burned into its leather cover. I opened it, and the past bled into the present.

By the big fire, the elders shared tales of Flame-Lore. Raea, the Fire Seer, spoke softly: “Long ago, a kingdom of ice-weavers rose in the north. Their walls grew higher, their hearts turned cold. We came and burned the walls, and provided warmth, heat. The fire we sparked cleansed, not consumed.” Naia, seated near the waterfall mosaic, tapped her chalice and added, “And water soothed their wounds.” Aglaya leaned in. “Thalia: Fire is not anger. It is light. Let it reveal what hides in shadows.”

The fire did not ask her to kneel. It bowed. She stepped onto the pedestal. The twin flames rose higher. Wrapped around her in spirals. The wind roared through the open walls. And every wolf in the valley howled. Not in fear. Not in loyalty. In recognition. The land remembered. The gods stirred. And the sky, The sky bled red. Mourne stood at the entrance, eyes wide. “She’s not taking the throne,” he whispered. “She’s changing it.” The fire split one last time.