Romans & histoires Wings Of Shattered Sorrow

Skin tore— And wings unfurled. But they weren't white. And not demon-red. They remained black. Yet at the edges... red shimmered. Dust. Tiny, glowing, dancing specks. Like silver on Rea's white wings. For the first time: they belonged together. Kael trembled. His wings weren't entirely of this world— As if they were made not for air, but memory. Woven from pain, choices, fury, and longing. The light pulsed, and the spear shuddered.

Nevaeh nods tearfully, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. Tired of waiting, Lukan shoves my head down. Excruciating pain explodes across my back. My vision blurs, and nausea gathers in my stomach as my wings are being cut from my body. I try to stifle my screams, but the pain is unbearable. The metallic taste of blood saturates my taste buds. It's excruciating. Falling forward, I try to straighten my arms, but they buckle. Choking on my blood, I give Nevaeh a reassuring look, but my vision blurs, and my body quakes. The sound of something falling near my shoulder startles me from my pain. It’s one of my wings. Vision wavering, I crawl to Nevaeh and touch her foot. My ears thrum, and my bod

The air itself appeared to vibrate with his words, suspended in the darkness as they weighed heavy with an electric threat of destruction. His wings extended outward, sending a wide, ominous shadow across the walls that now shuddered with fear of the destruction he was about to wreak. Those formerly unbreakable shackles which had held him captive in this doomed room now rested shattered upon the ground, shattered by his unyielding strength, by the darkness that had consumed him.

Her wings fell back into her body, screaming. Covering my mouth, a sob wrecked through me. I had forgotten she would feel the pain, too. Too worried about watching Mortus breathe his last breaths. The warrior, his eyes solemn with pity, gently gathered her in his arms, picked her up. Her head leaned into his chest, gripping his uniform. “Leave me,” she cried again. Wings sprung forth from his body, shaking his head. His wings hummed in the pattern of a hummingbird and took flight to the palace.

Like me, she was also ashamed of the mess that she caused and of the failure she brought to me. "Hey," I whispered gently, taking tentative steps towards her. The air in the room felt heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. My fingers brushed against her angelic, white wings, but she gracefully moved them away from my touch. Her feathers, usually a symbol of purity, now seemed to bear the weight of shame and regret. Though she remained silent, her eyes spoke volumes, reflecting a deep sorrow that echoed through the room.

someone is said to have shouted angrily The wings are unbreakable, but the feathers are so fragile inevitability Like honey in a smooth, flawless stone cup The thick liquid is so sweet, but it can hurt your throat Imagine someone sipping and then realizing that is fake taste Turn bitter, and then become poison It is said that someone lost a pair of wings His control was shattered into pieces like glass which fell on a rock It is said that someone fell and turned into a fragile spider thread They are honey that become irreplaceable poisons, like evil and mastering evil One day someone gave up, he stood in the middle of absolute loneliness The blazing beam above the crown almost burned him ali

I just turn and walk because if I don’t, I’ll fall apart right in front of them. The wind howls around me like it knows I'm heartbroken and I don't want to hear myself crying. I don’t know how far I run. My feet carry me past the training yard, the gardens, the edge of the wards. My wings flicker uselessly against my back, too fragile to take me anywhere. The trees blur past. Branches lash at my arms, my face. I don’t care. The air tastes like frost and blood and something deeper... something has cracked inside me.

But she can’t give up now. She kept walking for too long with heavy steps and then she tried spreading out her wings. For a moment, she was thankful that her wings came out. Speckles of golden glitters from her wings were dancing along the gravity like waves of motion. Now the zigzag path ignites with the flames of her wings either horizontally, vertically, or in waves. Because of it, the unknown path slowly revealed the right way, but still so far to reach. She didn’t know how many hours or days she had been walking and with every agonizing step, her body was trembling and her legs were numb with pain. She could only grind her teeth while trying to accept the excruciating pain.

Like she was unmaking me, piece by piece. “I am what comes after you,” she said between blows. “I am what survives you,” I answered. The last swing shattered the ground beneath us, cracking the valley floor and sending both our armies sprawling. We landed hard. I tasted blood. Before I could rise, her boot pressed to my chest. “You were never meant to last,” she whispered. “Just to open the gate.” Behind her, something massive stirred in the tear she’d walked through. Wings. Not angelic. Shadowed. Ancient.

The scars held the painful memory of her lost wings. “When a dragon loses their wings, their will and strength crumbles, “ Alec sighed, noting how I had spotted the deep scars on her body, “The meaning of life dies. Kathlyn sees herself as nothing but a large lizard now. Her wings were her strength, every dragon’s strength lies in their wings. When you’re deprived of your wings, it is a far worse punishment than death itself. Every one of our flightless ones were forced to watch, as their wings were torn and thrown into ashes. Leaving them nothing, but flightless creatures, who mourned into the night.”