Wings Of Fire Stonemover Novels & Stories

"Visibility: more than six miles. Cloud ceiling: above two miles. Wind speed: five knots." The sky was clear. I had spent seven years getting my hands on these two documents. One of them was retrieved from the Federal Aviation Authority, and the other one was from the National Meteorological Department. They had never been placed side by side for a comparison. Today, at 6:00 pm, the secretary of Zach Airways' board of directors called the Federal Aviation Administration's disciplinary inspection team. They had filed a complaint against me, the chief examiner, for abusing my power over personal affairs.

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.

"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.

My eyes snap open and my hands are on fire. Silver fire. The flames curl around my fingers like vines, weightless and bright. They flicker with light, not heat, and my heart stutters. Everyone is silent. Rhea stares, eyes wide with something between wonder and fear. "She’s doing it," she whispers. The flames ripple higher, sliding up my arms. They don’t hurt. They hum. Like they know me. I breathe. And that’s when it all goes wrong. The fire flares, too fast, too much. It jumps from my arms to the air around me. Moonstones crack. Wind whips across the courtyard. I hear someone shout. Rhea’s voice calling my name. The Elders moving. And then-

I mean, “Will you do me a favor and get lost?” he said while fixing the hem of his fitted dress shirt, “Why didn’t Xerxes come? He knew about this one, my god,” he dramatically fixed his hair on his forehead. “You’re there, nothing to worry about,” the woman said, “Come on, let’s get this done,” All of us were divided based on our factions; The Canine, The Dawn, The Sabletail, The Wildridge, and The Averrant.

I flap my wings and fly towards their palace and roar, breathing more fire. I will burn this kingdom to the ground, and that is what I am doing. Screams echo all around as I release my fury on the Lycans. I don’t care if some are innocent; they are Lycan’s and deserve this. The fire lust has taken over and I destroy everything in my path. Lycans throw spears and but they bounce off my scales and I chuckle before burning them alive. I fly higher and see the smoke bellowing up; the screams die down as I fly towards the shimmer; I swoop down and grab a Lycan and fly with him towards the shimmer and pass through with him in my clutches as I emerge on the other side. My talons pierce into him and

Clutching her phone, she felt a wave of numbness wash over her. Behind her, the door chimed, and footsteps grew louder as they neared. Suddenly, her phone was plucked from her grasp by the man behind her and tossed aside with an indifferent flick of his wrist. He gripped her wrist tightly, pinning her against the window. She looked down, his warm breath on her ear sending shivers down her spine. "Been waiting long, my dear?" he murmured.

They had a plan. Reyes turned slowly in place, taking in the scorched earth, the silence. The evidence was gone, scrubbed clean with fire and time. He exhaled through his nose, jaw clenched. Not defeated. Just angry. He raised the camera. “Bramley Lot—burned down. No signs of occupants. No heat. They’re gone.” A beat of silence. Then quieter: “They’re cleaning house.” He stood still a moment longer, then turned and walked back to the car.

Riven's grip was steel wrapped in fire. No matter how Mae kicked, twisted, or clawed at him, he didn’t so much as stumble. His plasma wings curved protectively over her, deflecting the storm of bullets and debris raining down. “Put me down!” she yelled, shoving her fists against his chest. “No.” His voice was steady, calm, like the word itself was an unbreakable law of the universe. But even his perfect calm faltered for a split second, right as something sharp, fast, and deadly sliced through the air.

Heat burst from my chest, wild and unstoppable, fire vomiting out of me in a torrent that melted the nets in a single breath. The ground split beneath me. Scales shimmered across my arms, black through with molten gold, crawling up my throat, down my ribs, until I was wrapped in it. My skin burned, and yet I felt invincible, every nerve alive with power too big for my body. My wings weren’t there, not yet, but I could feel them, ghosting out of my back, stretching wide, ready to blot out the sky. Heat rolled off me in waves that cracked the earth, setting the trees ablaze.