Wings Of Fire Lore Book Novels & Stories

, he paused. “So, I’m narrating and the both of you are cuddling”, he said jokingly and everyone looked at Bruno and Enola and they separated from each other. ‘As I was saying’, he continued, “So, Omek observed a secret. He noticed that the goddess had something called heart of the river, it looked like a small staff. Without that staff, the goddess would turn to water and the water would overflow. He didn’t know about this issue because when he asked the goddess, the goddess lied that without the staff, she turns to human and the sacrificed victims regains their freedom.

LILA’S POV The forest was quiet, but it wasn’t peaceful. Not really. The air hung heavy with smoke and the lingering scent of burnt leaves. My wings drooped, still weak from the mental assault. Every fiber of my being ached, and yet, I could feel it the pulse of life, of loyalty, of hope, threading through the camp.

The battle raged on. Our warriors were well-trained, their attacks coordinated, but it didn’t matter. We were losing. The creature was too big, too strong—even for werewolf standards. Every time we gained an advantage, it tore through our defenses like they were nothing. And worst of all— It had fire magic. Flames erupted from its hands, setting parts of the forest ablaze. The scent of burning wood and singed fur filled the air. Warriors dodged, some barely escaping the searing heat. Others weren’t as lucky.

Their wings spread wide until they broke through the thin walls of the place I’ve called home for over a year. My attention flickers to the helpless fish near my bed, and he watches the scene before him with big, pressured eyes. But he’s safe. For now. With a fiery breath, Finn torches the bag on the floor. Silver and gold burst out from the magically enclosed bag. The spellbook burned as it wafted through the air, singed and burning, causing ash to drift about. "Stop. Stop!" It burns my palms, but the paper is nothing more than crisps of ash when they hit my skin. I sink to my knees staring around at the destruction of my home. All my hard work lies in ashes, and there’s nothing I can do ab

"You don't get to wear his voice. You don't get to touch him." The flames burst out of me like a flood, spiraling around my arms, my chest, my back. They didn't feel like ribbons anymore. They felt like wings. Huge, burning, terrible wings. I slammed into the shadow. Light exploded through the cavern, so bright the stone looked like it was on fire. The water screamed as my flames hit it, steam and ash tearing upward in a whirlwind. The shadow staggered, its storm of faces shredding under the attack, black dissolving into sparks.

I comment. "Unlike you, I don't have family alive old enough to tell me about the unicorns. I had heard that after the Fires of Alira the unicorns disappeared. Strange considering they were the pillar of the world order. Or so the book says," Flavius talks glancing at me.

"Kill him! Kill him! Kill this fake Isidore!" "Liar!" I shouted. Flames erupted from my mouth, scaring countless warriors into running away from me. I spread my wings as I spewed fire and flew toward Galen. My wings were fully spread, and they were longer than my body. As I flew, I blocked out a large part of the sun. The warriors looked up at me in shock from my shadow. I have grown accustomed to my wings. Flying high, gliding, landing, turning. I use my wings as deftly as I use my hands. They have been completely accepted by my body as my new organs.

“Tell me how to stop it.” The robed figure was silent for a moment, the shifting shadows around them flickering like dying embers. “The path to salvation lies in Dawnfire,” they finally said. “The place where the Veil was first torn.” Dawnfire. The name had haunted his visions, whispered in the remnants of the past. The First King’s fall. The beginning of the cycle. It all led back to the same place. Elior straightened. “Then that’s where we go.”

“It’s titled, ‘A dance of ice and fire’.” The book was the first thing I got after I drank the potion. It’s one of the oldest children's books written on Lycan’s lore. I loved it as a kid, Davies loves it, too. I’m pretty sure she will, too. I want to hope that when she reads it, she will remember me.

The memory came flooding back like a nightmare I’d tried to suppress, every detail crystal clear despite my attempts to bury it. I flashed back to that day when I was about to leave Silas’s cabin, ready to start my new life as Liora Rivers. I had been standing at the door, my hand on the handle, desperate to escape the small space that had been both my prison and my salvation for an entire year. But Silas had stopped me with a gentle touch on my shoulder. “Promise me something,” he had said, his voice soft but insistent. There was an undertone of command in it that made my newly transformed wolf restless.