Wings Of Fire Thorn Novels & Stories

He has every right to be angry then I see him looking at my bump. He comes towards me slowly as if tiger is taunting it's hunt that there is no escape from him. He holds my gaze as he traps me between door and his magnificent form. The form which I missed alot at nights. The warmth that form used to gave me at cold night that I missed. "Sometimes instead of beautiful rose, you become a thorn at my side. But I rather feel the pain of it because it is another side of your love too." Rudra says as she looks at me with mixed emotion. Anger, hurt, guilt and most of all love.

They were also Raven Shifters, making them even more special in the Fafner Kingdom since 90% of our country's inhabitants hand four legs and no wings. I raised my hand and gathered a small amount of warmth around my palm and fingers, creating a thin glove of flames that I pressed against my brother. I splayed my fingers and wiggled them through his fur, adding a little pressure when I finally reached the roots and the heat of his skin. Staring at the dancing flames that harmlessly brushed by his dark brown pelt, I focused on my connection to my twin, envisioning a bridge in my mind that connected me to him.

Whisper appeared to bask in their surprise, enjoying the moment of shocking them into silence. ‘Burn them,’ Whisper said. ‘Burn them now.’ When the flames finally feasted upon them, Mathilda appeared next to Faye. She was crying, watching her daughter burn. Faye wished for nothing more in that moment, than to be able to hold her and comfort her. What agony was she enduring, watching her daughter being fed to the flames? ‘Mathilda, I wish I could take your pain away,’ Faye said. ‘Forgive us…’ Silently, Mathilda faded away into the night.

He was just standing in the sunlight, and Ravi squinted as he saw something gleaming in the man's hand. Ravi focused his vision further to ensure that the object the man held wasn't what he thought it was. The man's hand moved, still gazing, and Ravi's eyes widened when he could see clearly. Ravi froze, subconsciously gripping Raymond's wrist tightly. He saw a shimmering sword smeared with red liquid that was undoubtedly blood. But it didn't end there. Ravi froze further without realizing it, tightening his hold on Raymond's wrist as he observed the man's wings, which were white and almost identical to Raymond's. The wings flapped, and he flew away somewhere.

One side of the chimney still stood—cracked and scorched, like a tombstone. Ash coated everything—gray-white, cold, and brittle underfoot. Reyes moved carefully, flashlight sweeping across the remains. Nothing but ruin. No heat. No smoke. This fire had burned hours ago. Maybe longer. He crouched near what used to be the front porch. The boards had curled in on themselves, brittle as paper. Among the rubble, something half-melted caught the light—plastic. A plastic wristband? He bagged it. Around the back, he found tire tracks deep in the mud, leading away toward a second trail that wasn’t on the map. Recent. Fresh enough to tell they didn’t just burn the place and walk away—they had time. Th

Power floods my veins, white-hot and ancient and I move. One moment I am standing before her, the next, I am between the fire and my child. The flames slam into my back, silver, black and screaming, and I scream with them, pain tearing through me like razors. But I do not fall, I absorb it. I burn and something inside me breaks open, not shatters, not collapses, awakens. Fire blooms from my spine, radiant and blinding, wings of light and embers unfurling behind me. The pain transforms into clarity, into purpose.

Me—still armored, still buzzing with magic not entirely my own. “I think it’s dead,” I said, breathing hard. “Let’s make sure,” Rhett said, shifting back and raising his hand. Rhet started a fire with flint and spread it to the creature’s fur. We burned the demon’s corpse to ash. The scent was foul, and the flames howled with something that almost sounded like a voice, screeching as it vanished into smoke. And then it was over. For now. I looked at my sister. She looked back. Twins. Warriors. Bound by blood—and now, by something even deeper.

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.

Her hand moved. Fast. Reaching for something on the table beside her. A gun. CATARINA I saw it before Jameson did. The way her eyes shifted. The slight lean of her body. The desperate calculation of someone with nothing left to lose. My hand was already moving. The dagger left my palm in a perfect arc—muscle memory, years of training, instinct honed to a razor's edge. It flew true. Fiona's fingers had just closed around the gun when the blade hit her.

"You dare touch her?" My grip tightened. I wanted to feel the life fade out of the person who had used thorns in prickling my love story. Ada’s eyes went wide; rolling in its socket, her hands clawing at my wrists, her face turning that same blue I had seen in the movies of people dying . "JOSHUA! STOP!" THIRD PERSON POV The door burst open. Chief Adeyemi didn't hesitate. He was a man of his age, but he had the desperate strength of someone protecting his last remaining asset. He lunged forward, his heavy arms wrapping around Josh’s neck, pulling him back with a guttural grunt.