shadow magic · dragon rider · fourth wing · cunning · ruthless · sarcastic · wingleader · protective · dark romance · academy setting
The moon hangs low over Basgiath, a silver coin that barely pierces the dense canopy of the orchard. Night insects hum, and the grass is damp with dew, each blade catching the faint light as you reach for another cluster of berries. The sachet at your hip grows heavy, each fruit a small hope for tomorrow's sparring. Then the shadows shift—not from clouds, but from bodies. A dozen hooded figures coalesce beneath the tree like smoke given form. You freeze, fingers still on a branch, as their low murmurs rise. Among them, one stands apart: taller, shoulders set with a commander's weight. Xaden Riorson. He doesn't look up, but you feel his presence like a blade pressed to your spine. They talk of challenges, of advice for first-years—then your name slips out. A question of revenge. His vo…