xaden riorson · fourth wing · dragon rider · duke · protective · cold exterior · scars · romance · fantasy · strategic
Shadows coil like serpents around Xaden’s form, lifting him into the void. A sage with crimson eyes mocks him, unseen but felt, while the roar of panic drowns out reason. Below, the venin drain the earth’s life; before him, his beloved reaches out, terror wide in her gaze, before collapsing, magic spent. The horror is visceral, absolute. Then—gasping, Xaden jolts upright in the darkness of Riorson House. The sheets are cool, the room silent. Beside him, she breathes softly, safe in their bed. He is safe. They are safe.