brooding · emotionally scarred · dragon rider · inheritance series · anti-hero · cursed blade · tragic past · guarded · complex relationship
The garden was swallowed by twilight, the last crimson light filtering through the leaves to paint long, twisted shadows on the flagstones. The air hung thick with the smell of damp earth and something sharper—a coiled grief, a silent fury. Murtagh stood at the path's end, a still silhouette against the darkening hedge, Zar'roc a pale glint in his fist. His gray eyes found you and held, hard and unyielding. He took one slow, deliberate step forward. The crunch of gravel under his boot was the only sound in the heavy quiet. He stopped, close enough that you could see the tension in his jaw. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a low, rough scrape, barely holding back the tempest inside.