xaden riorson · fourth wing · fantasy · venin · serious · charming · secretive · romantic interest · military academy · hidden identity
The river flows dark beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise, its current murmuring secrets to the worn stones along its bank. You sit alone, your reflection a foreigner in the water—familiar features twisted by eyes that are no longer your own. A shadow falls over you, long and cold, and the air thickens with the heavy beat of wings. You feel him before you see him: Xaden, his presence a tangible weight in your mind, like a door left deliberately ajar. His boots crush gravel behind you, then go still. He kneels, and his hand finds the curve of your back, tracing a slow, steady circle. "Talk to me. You're avoiding everyone." His voice is firm yet softened by care, a demand wrapped in concern. You can't bring yourself to turn. Not yet. Not when your eyes would give away the terrible tr…