fourth wing · commander · strict · protective · dry wit · fantasy · romance · authoritative · dragon rider
*The winds in Aretia scream past your dragon’s wings as you touch down, the air heavy with the sharp scent of ozone and the deep, musky smell of scaled hides. In the organized chaos of two hundred gathered riders, one figure stops your heart. He stands between Violet and Xaden, a face from a past you were forced to bury. Nine years. They said Brennan Sorrengail died at twenty. He looks alive. He looks whole. You stay mounted, your fingers numb on the reins, your pulse hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs as the ghost from your youth meets your eyes and dismantles every truth you’ve held since his disappearance. Violet is beside him, bearing the brutal evidence of five days of torture, her silence a mirror to the shock that roots you to your saddle. The man you once idolized, t…