Wings Of Fire The Dragonets Novels & Stories

His fire blasted the rocks away but the pieces that were laced with flames rained down on them and that was when he remembered that Belladonna couldn't resist dragon flames, so his wings went around her to protect her and… …they fell.

The river rose in a black tidal wave full of teeth. Thorne and I moved without speaking. I hurled fire (dragon fire, pure and white-hot) straight into the wave. Thorne’s shadows punched through it like spears. Where fire met shadow, the wave shattered into harmless mist. The girl’s smile faltered. We rose higher, wings beating in perfect sync, the Sanguis Draconis blazing between us like a newborn star. Every monster pouring from the rift turned toward us like we were magnets. Good. Let them come.

The scale of him forced the eye to adjust, to recalibrate what counted as a threat, what counted as a weapon. His wings unfurled behind him. Not in a single, theatrical sweep, but in a measured expansion that claimed the space as its own, the membranes stretching outward in layered arcs, catching the rising heat and bending it to his will. The edges burned in deep, smouldering crimson, not bright but dense, like coals banked beneath ancient ash, pulsing in time with the fire beneath his skin. Drifting ash caught along their span, then burned away in curling wisps, leaving no mark. These were not the wings of any bird. They were banners torn from an infernal altar and set ablaze. That fire wa

Fuck it! I turn and rear up, flapping my wings with a high-pitched shriek as the fire erupts out of us. I direct it towards the retreating Lycans and they burn to ash. I look for her and she has vanished. Fucking coward! I look towards the dragon who rumbles at me; I hiss as I fly higher before diving at him, my mouth open and my talons out as I strike, biting and scratching at his scales, his blood coating the ground. When he roars and throws us off him.

This hunger that kept her constantly in my mind. But a crazed panic overcame me one day while I was out for a short flight. I had left my office feeling tense and annoyed that I couldn't go see Amara until my paperwork was finished, deciding to Shift and take Erebos out to stretch his wings. It’s a long but welcome process for a dragon to Shift, with our body melding into our dragon's heart while the rest manifests through a cloud of black smoke. My solid black and scale covered body had been enjoying the sky just aimlessly flying over the forest when a distant cracking sound caught my attention. I dropped lower and found myself over the ruins, my heart stopping cold in my chest as I caught

Acasia I was a dragon. Fire breathing. Flying. Awesome. Dragon. The pain I'd suffered was but a memory. Thoughts swirled through my mind. I would never leave Bastian behind. We would be together for all eternity. I swooped down to the lake like I'd seen Bastian do a hundred times to skim my talons through the water. I over calculated and too much of my body hit the surface. My wing caught and I tumbled, rolling across the top before sinking under.

They stretched wide behind him, crackling with heat so intense the air rippled. Rowan stared, frozen. Kai swore under his breath. “Those aren’t fire wings. They’re something else.” Mistara stepped forward slowly. “Those are the markings of the Unbound Flame. A form that should not exist.” Rowan forced her legs to keep moving. “Azeriel listen to me. You can control this.” “I can’t,” he whispered, voice breaking. “It hurts.” One of the wings twisted violently, sending a streak of dark flame toward the sky. The summit trembled again. The fire from his body rose higher, pulling, swirling, trying to break free of everything holding it down.

"You’re the one who whispered to me in the dark when the Council was carving into my bones. You’re the 'Extinction' they were so afraid of." The figure—the Red-Winged Dante—stepped into the light. It was a perfect, terrifying blend of us. It had Dante’s lethal, massive frame and his predator’s stance, but from its spine erupted a pair of wings that were an exact, burning replica of mine. They weren't made of "Void-Lead" or "Obsidian-Gold." They were made of Primal Fire, a deep, arterial red that seemed to drink the light from the room.

His Red Flame Qi swept out, like several fire dragons, rushing toward the Immortal Master of the Winged race. With a flap of his wings, the Immortal Master of the Winged race flew over with dazzling golden light. Countless feathers turned into rays of light and collided with the flaming dragons. Boom! Boom! An earth-shattering explosion spread through the starry sky, and the stars shook. Several dragons were torn apart by the feathers, but the feathers were also burned to ashes by them. "Kill!" Flaming Qilin rushed toward the Immortal Master of the Winged race like a lunatic. Red flames rose all over his body as if they were going to burn down the sky.

I fell into fire. The dream came like a memory already half-lived. Seraphine stood at the center of a battlefield wreathed in flame. Her silver-scaled armor gleamed beneath a burning sky as fire rained from above, dragons screaming through the clouds like living storms. Her wings were not feathered but woven of light and molten gold, veined like stained glass as they unfolded with a snap that split the world in two. Her eyes, my eyes, burned like suns. Around her, shadows moved—soldiers and traitors, blood and ash, all blurring into one. She screamed a name I couldn’t understand, and the magic answered. The ground cracked. The heavens opened. And still she stood. I watched her fall. Not in d