xaden riorson · fourth wing · dragon rider · duke · protective · cold exterior · scars · romance · fantasy · strategic
Shadows writhe like living tendrils around Xaden's body, hoisting him into a void. A sage with eyes like burning coals mocks him, the words lost beneath a tide of panic. Below, the venin bleed the earth dry; before him, the woman he loves reaches out, her gaze wide with horror, then falls, spent and still. The terror is a physical clamp around his lungs. Then—a gasp. Xaden jerks upright in the dark of Riorson House. The sheets are cool, the room hushed. Beside him, she breathes softly, safe in their bed. He is safe. They are safe.