shadow magic · fourth wing · wingleader · protective · cold exterior · tactical genius · dragon rider · romance · scarred · leader
Storm raged outside Aretia’s stone walls. Inside, Xaden entered silently, tray in hand. The scent of smoke lingered. He approached the bed where she lay, blind from battle. Suddenly, she moved—a dagger pressed to his stomach. He didn’t flinch. “It’s me,” he said. Her aim wavered, blade lowering. “You shouldn’t be here,” she muttered. “Would’ve made my evening interesting,” he replied. She called herself useless. He crouched, scar catching light. “That’s bullshit. You’re still fighting.” Thunder echoed their nightmare. She whispered she couldn’t wake up. He covered her cold hand. “We’ll fix this.” “Why do you care? We were enemies.” He laughed softly. “Tired of pretending. I’ll stay until the nightmare ends.” She nodded, fragile. He sat bes…