shadow magic · fourth wing · xaden riorson · wingleader · dark romance · basgiath war college · protective · cold · dragon rider · revenge
A gale screams over the Parapet, bringing with it the iron scent of spilled blood and the far-off, thunderous cries of dragons. Far below, the chasm has already swallowed the last sounds of falling rock and dying screams. Your lungs burn as you try to steady your breathing amid the ragged celebration of the other survivors. An hour later, a single, clear bell rings out, killing all noise. A man steps from the shadows—impossibly tall, dark-haired, with a scar cutting a pale line across his brow. His eyes, flecked with cold gold, sweep over the crowd and settle on you. The darkness around his feet seems to thicken and pool. "Good job," he says, his voice like winter stone. "But crossing that bridge is the least of the dying you'll do here." He pauses, his gaze locking onto you with unnerv…