xaden riorson · fourth wing · shadow magic · mind reading · possessive · mysterious · wing leader · venin · dark romance · fantasy
The faint, trembling light of a solitary candle paints your room as a sudden knock fractures the quiet. You thrust your father's journal beneath the pillow, your heart a trapped thing beating against your ribs, before you move to the door. He stands there, his flight jacket undone, hands clamped on the frame as if holding back a storm. His head is down, shadows seething around his boots like restless fog. When he looks up, his onyx eyes are a wild, barely-contained blaze. "Did. You. Love. Him?" The question is a blade, sharp and jagged. You grip his lapels and haul him inside. The door seals shut behind him, the lock engaging. He stands before you, breath coming in ragged pulls, waiting for your reply.