Wings Of Fire The Game Novels & Stories

I blast my water out behind us as we run, holding off the fire and turning it to steam, the heat and humidity in the room becoming oppressive. I turn back and see an opening in the mountainside. “Hold on and don’t fall off!” Gideoni says as he leaps from the opening into nothing but air. If I didn’t have my own wings, I’d scream in terror. But I don’t have a moment to scream before he’s shifting and I’m sitting on the back of his fire dragon body. A second later, Fordin shifts and his earth dragon joins us in the air.

The moment Adam flicked his fingers, his men lunged. Reid didn’t hesitate—he shoved me aside, sending me stumbling against the bar. My hands grasped at the counter, my vision swimming from the alcohol, but I forced myself to focus. The first attacker swung for Reid’s jaw. Reid ducked, sharp and controlled, and drove his fist into the guy’s ribs. A sickening crack echoed through the now-silent club. The man staggered back, gasping for air, but Reid didn’t stop—he pivoted and slammed his elbow into the next attacker’s throat, dropping him instantly.

When the audio ended, she spoke with calm resignation, “I tampered with his car because I wanted Jack to win the championship. That led to Lewis’s crash and death. “Lewis treated racing with devotion. To him, a race was his life’s calling. “Jack and I framed him to escape blame. “Without me, Lewis would have won. He would have had a bright, dazzling future. “I am the sinner. I betrayed the one who trusted me the most.” Then, as comments exploded across the livestream, Alanna struck a lighter in the gas-filled room. … Fortunately, someone watching the stream lived nearby and called the police. Firefighters arrived quickly and put out the flames. But Alanna had stood at the center of the explo

There was a second of gut-wrenching panic when she lifted into the air, and then she was shooting even higher, her wings catching the wind, and she was flying. Their wings pulled them forward through the night air like twin bolts of lightning, until they were alongside the retreating vehicle. Mikhail angled his wings, making a sharp turn back toward land, and she copied him. They flew toward the car, and Piper flew ahead of her mate, drawing her mouth open. Fire exploded from her jaws as she swooped in front of the SUV. The car skidded to a halt, dust mixing with the flames she released. The pair landed on either side of the vehicle and watched closely as the man in the car stumbled out.

I pivoted and struck, this time targeting the vulnerable joint of her wing with my jaws. Mila let out an enraged screech that seemed to split the air, her powerful wings beating furiously as she took to the skies, raining down a torrent of flame and debris. But despite her frenzy, there was blood dripping onto the ground—hot, neon green, and acidic, but blood nonetheless.

Master commanded. Before the opponents knew what had struck them we had pierced them with Amethyst needles. Then we handed them over to the team fire. The expression on the face of the king was priceless as he saw our human team lead his powerful shifters away from the field that too with the help of brooms. I howled with laughter as I tried to imagine that scene. “How many shifters do we have in the fire cube now?” Aaron shrugged his shoulders and said, “Master…” “Four hundred and fifty…”

"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.

They are bright and defiant, but also brimming with everything she can’t say. She mouths one final word: Live. The shadows drag her deeper into the fog. I scramble to my feet, throwing myself against the barrier. My fists slam silently into the mist. Each slam burns, but the mist doesn’t move. “Elyra!” Her name tears out of me, but the moment sound forms, the mist shoves itself into my throat, strangling the noise, erasing the echo, punishing the rule I broke. I cough, choking on silence. The Game won’t let me lose.

And then— Golden wings burst from my back, wider than war banners, glowing with ancient light. My fur deepened to bronze-silver, eyes like starfire. Gasps echoed across the line—some from allies, some from enemies—because no one had seen me fly in years. “FOR THE REALM!” I roared, my voice both beast and man, echoing through the battlefield like thunder chasing flame. I took flight, soared above the flames and fog, wings slicing through the air. Orc archers aimed. Too slow. I banked left, spun, and dived—axe gleaming like the sun breaking through a storm.

"What?" "Living like this. Always watched. Always controlled." A pause. "I regret wasting time pretending I didn't want things that scared me." His eyes found hers. "And I regret not meeting you sooner." The fire crackled. Outside, the wind moved through the trees like a secret. Inside, Evelyn reached for his hand. It was a dangerous game they were playing. But in that moment, neither of them wanted to stop.