Wings Of Prophecy Novels & Stories

“You asked why you were given power, why your mother carried it and those before her. The answer lies in a prophecy written long before your birth.” I swallowed, gripping my mother’s journal tighter. “What prophecy?” The witch’s voice lowered, almost like she was chanting. "When shadows rise and kingdoms fall, When blood runs silver and wolves heed the call, A Luna of storm, of light, of flame, Shall bind the scattered under one name. Her touch will heal, her wrath will rend, Her choice will break or worlds will mend." The words seemed to vibrate against my skin, as though the prophecy itself recognized me. A chill swept down my spine.

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

“It’s a warning.” I leaned closer, my gaze fixed on the parchment. The symbol of the phoenix, wings outstretched and flames curling around it, was drawn in sharp, deliberate strokes. Beneath it, the words of the prophecy had been scrawled in an old dialect, their meaning clear despite the faded ink: “The bonded pair must rise, or the shadow will consume all. Fear, hatred, and division will call forth an enemy that no strength can defeat alone. The flame of unity must burn, or the world will fall to ash.”

“If Elias breaks, the world breaks with him.” A silence thicker than death. Then, another voice—weak, small, from a priest in the back. “I saw him… in battle. His wings. I’ve only read of such things in prophecy. He didn’t just fight. He became the war.” “Exactly,” the elder said. “He is the prophecy.” “No,” the messenger corrected. “He is the one who writes them.” Someone cursed under their breath. “We can’t just wait around and let him decide everything.”

A spell that may be able to bring back everyone's happy and glorious lives. The next day when I was finally not that surrounded by warlocks, I took out the small booklet. "¡Trae una cúpula para proteger a mis seres queridos!" I chanted under my breath. A dome appeared in the sky slowly placing a barrier between the warlocks and all of us. It is not that strong and I don't have that much time to waste.

I had his arm pinned to his back while my wings beat at the air in big swings causing feathers and dust to cascade around us. He may be fast, but I was stronger, with wings. I pushed off of him, jumping as my wings beat downwards propelling me upward, and I perched on the railing that ran along the edge of the first floor platform. There I waited while he straightened his cloths. I hurt the wolfs pride, but what must be done is now done.

She sounded like three different people were speaking through her. "The prophecy of twos still stands, but you will have to fight. Fleeing is not an option" A shiver ran down my spine. "Finally, your first son.... he's going to be a bringer of evil. The darkness in you and your soulmate will be nothing, compared to the darkness in him. Nature and everything unnatural will fight against his coming to the world. When the time comes, you will have to make a choice. Remember, your strings must remain unbroken" she said, and right in front of my eyes, she vanished into thin air.

The prophecy. ⸻ The words echoed across the battlefield like a death sentence. ⸻ No one spoke. ⸻ No one moved. ⸻ Even the Fallen Celestial remained still. ⸻ Because everyone understood one thing. ⸻ Prophecies were dangerous. ⸻ Not because they predicted the future. ⸻ Because they had a habit of coming true. ⸻ The wind howled across the shattered mountain. ⸻ Lightning illuminated the dark sky.

“Explain.” She tilted her head slightly. “Power like theirs,” she said, “does not vanish by brute strength. You cannot simply strike them down—not all of them. The prophecy protects them as much as their wolves do.” Erevon growled softly. “I don’t need a reminder of the prophecy.” “No,” she agreed. “But you need to understand how to twist it… before it twists you.” Draven stepped forward cautiously. “My lady… what are you suggesting?” The witch’s gaze flickered between them, her voice dropping to a whisper that tugged at the edges of sanity.

When we were small, a witch named Sybil predicted that my sister would not live past sixteen. Since then, every eye in the family turned toward her. All the love in that house gathered around Aurora and stopped there. Whatever she wanted, whatever she wanted to do, our parents backed her completely. Every scrap of tenderness and every resource they had went to her, while I was left out in the cold, and the things that should have been mine were handed to her too. Even so, I never complained, not once. I knew my sister was someone to be pitied. Then the day of the prophecy came, the day she turned sixteen, and I was the one who ended up poisoned with wolfsbane, of all people, hanging on the e