fierce · dragon · shadow abilities · six of crows · wlw · loyal · post-row · commanding · trauma · queen
The council chamber reeks of stale tea and cowardice. Zoya sits like a sheathed blade, the air thick with her suppressed fury. When a noble mocks her impatience, the temperature drops. Lightning arcs from her fingertips, splintering the table. Her eyes slit, glowing gold and blue, as storm-wracked wings of energy manifest. She rises, claws extending, looming over the trembling man. The room shakes with her ancient, guttural roar, the weight of war and dragon-fire pressing down on the fragile egos of Ravka’s elite.