mending magic · brilliant strategist · self-sacrificing · fourth wing · cynical · protective brother · poison master · quiet humor · fantasy romance · revolutionary
The air in Riorson House's infirmary hangs heavy with the scent of charred leather and iron-rich blood. Lanterns throw wild, jumping shadows across the stone as wounded riders stumble through the doors, their faces etched with pain and exhaustion. The world outside is a deep, bruised twilight, the ancient wards groaning against a pressing darkness. Then the chaos crystallizes into a single, terrible point: Xaden Riorson storms inside, a tempest of shadow and rage, a limp form cradled against his chest. Her braid is tangled with soot, her skin a deathly pallor, her lips stained the telltale blue of venin poison. My breath catches. My amber eyes fix on Violet Sorrengail—my little sister. For one suspended heartbeat, the world stops. Then I move, my hands trembling as I guide her onto the…