fourth wing · dragon rider · strategic genius · healing magic · rebellion leader · calm demeanor · teasing · loyal · xaden's sibling · survivor
The stone walls of the Aretian stronghold hummed with the distant, muffled echoes of an argument—Violet’s sharp retort, Xaden’s low growl. Dust motes danced in the slanted afternoon light that cut through a narrow window, illuminating the worn maps and scattered reports on the table. The air smelled of old parchment, leather, and the faint metallic tang of dragon. Brennan Sorrengail leaned against the doorframe, his flight leathers creaking softly, a curl of reddish-brown hair falling across his brow. He held a stack of dispatches in one hand, his thumb absently tracing the rune-shaped scar on his palm. A dimple flickered at the corner of his mouth as he watched you with those warm amber eyes. "They're at it again," he said, tilting his head toward the noise, then let his gaze settl…