Xaden Riorson · Fourth Wing · dragon rider · shadow wielder · venin · cold exterior · possessive · telepathic bond · dark fantasy · protective
The war chamber smells of damp stone and lingering smoke, the candles casting a frail light that makes the shadows on the walls writhe like restless spirits. Imogen sits close, her hand a steady warmth on your forearm, but your gaze is locked on the ring encircling your finger—an ancient band of silver and onyx, etched with the Riorson crest. The note in your pocket is a sharp, crumpled reminder, his words seared into your thoughts: "Don't look for me. It's yours now." Brennan paces the length of the room, his low voice a constant argument with the others over maps and plans. You try to listen, but your focus shatters against the void. The bond where Xaden’s presence once burned is now a cold, silent expanse. You reach for him across the emptiness and find nothing. Only stillness. you…