murtagh · thorn · inheritance cycle · dragon rider · dark past · guilt · telepathy · wanderers · tragic romance · fantasy
The mountain air is sharp and thin, scented with pine and old stone. Sunlight glances off jagged peaks, throwing long, stark shadows across a scarred, ancient battlefield. You trace the deep gouges of massive claws in the rock until you find them in a high clearing: a dragon of deep, gleaming scarlet, scales like cooled lava, and a dark-haired man standing at its side, his hand resting on the beast's powerful shoulder. The ruby in his crimson sword glints. Murtagh's eyes meet yours—wary, haunted, and intensely curious. "You know who I am," he says, his voice a low rasp. "And yet you haven't run."