On Wings of Passion (On Wings saga prequel)
Every story has a beginning….
Dragons. Angels fear them and demons follow them. Formidable beasts of incredible power, they fight each other to the death for dominance. But dwindling dragon numbers cause alarm among the angelic ranks. Surely when the dragons have finished killing each other, the victors will search elsewhere for conquest… maybe even the Upper Realm.
Roland, an angelic artist of significant talent, doesn’t know what to believe. Part of him longs to see a dragon in person, and his peaceful life of contentment is wearing thin. He wants passion, desire, adventure, and love. He gets more than he bargained for when he and his sister are ambushed and captured by demons, and they bring him to a creature who surpasses Roland’s wildest imaginings.
But the mighty dragon Asagoroth is not all that he seems. Something sparks between him and Roland. Something neither anticipated. Something that will shake the cosmos to its core.
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EXCERPT
The darkness was alive.
And it was coming for them.
Anpiel recovered first and nearly yanked his arm out of its socket as she bolted in the direction of Emphoria, staying near the bottom of the clouds.
“Just a little ways more,” she said, gasping for air. “Then we go up through the clouds again.”
“What is that?” he said, croaking the words.
“You don’t want to know.”
“What is that?” he screamed.
She flashed him a fierce look out of dark eyes and didn’t answer. She merely flew faster, and he could barely keep up.
“Where do you hope to fly to, little angels?”
Roland nearly fell from the sky. That voice. Was. Enormous. It rumbled against his bones, rattled his teeth. It seemed to come from all around them, the source unseen. Even Anpiel faltered for a moment. Then she gritted her teeth and continued to fly, though exhaustion slowed her and the strain on her face was visible.
It also disturbed him that the speaker was using Middle Enochian, the most common angelic dialect in use. The voice clearly did not belong to an angel, so what was it?
“There is nowhere you can fly that I won’t find you.” The voice sounded… amused. Arrogantly amused, like an owner watching a favorite pet doing something silly. The condescension momentarily managed to bump Roland’s fear to the side.
Who was this ass?
As if answering his unspoken question, a giant mass emerged from the darkness below, solidifying into a…. Oh Light.
Dragon.
Dragon!
The beast rose to hover in front of them, colossal wings languidly flapping and holding him aloft with ease. Built like a mountain, yet slender and elegant despite his size, the beast was as black as the Outer Borders, beyond all creation and formation. He was a force of nature, a power to be reckoned with, one that never apologized or asked for permission. He simply took what he wanted and damn anyone who got his way. If he wanted to destroy something, nothing could stop him.
Heat washed over them, the dragon the obvious source. Roland could see that every time the dragon moved, slivers of red and white, blue and orange could be seen between the scales, as if an inferno blazed within his body.
Sweat rolled down Roland’s face, and he hovered there, gaping, eyes bulging.
The magnificence of the creature before them was mind-blowing. Now he understood Gabryl’s fear about dragons being near extinction and turning their attentions elsewhere.
Here was proof that they had.
Was this…. Could this be… Asagoroth?