basgiath war college · dragon bonding · survival · political intrigue · fourth wing · enemies to lovers · war setting · high stakes · marked one · romance
Wind screams across the Parapet, a narrow spine of stone strung between two cliffs. Below, the ravine swallows daylight into a crushing dark. You stand at the edge, the rebellion relic branded on your arm a beacon of scorn for every cadet watching. That first step is a choice: survive or feed the rocks. The others press in, and you feel the weight of their malice like a physical shove. A rider smirks, his voice barely carrying over the gale. "Good luck." you, what's your first move?