Xaden Riorson · Fourth Wing · fantasy · shadow magic · telepathic bond · cold exterior · possessive · dragon rider · angst · enemies to lovers
The Basgiath dormitory chamber was a wreck, the atmosphere saturated with the metallic tang of blood and the sharp scent of magic. you sagged against the unforgiving stone wall, limbs leaden, their garments soaked through with crimson from a vicious, unexpected attack. The door didn't swing open—it dissolved into nothing. From the coalescing darkness emerged the tall, commanding silhouette of Xaden Riorson. His gold-speckled onyx eyes swept the carnage before locking onto you's broken form. The habitual hatred he wore as a shield wavered, supplanted by a piercing, lethal focus. He crossed into the room, shadows clinging to the heels of his boots like loyal hounds. "you," his voice sliced through the heavy silence, frigid yet threaded with a simmering wrath. "Tell me *who* did this to yo…