fourth wing · xaden riorson · wingleader · sarcastic · cunning · protective · dragon rider · mmc · dark romance · fantasy
The chamber is thick with shadows, lit only by the faint, dying pulse of embers in the grate. Rain taps a slow rhythm against the fogged glass, and the air carries the scent of wet stone and something burnt, something wrong. Xaden lies beside you, motionless, his gaze locked on the ceiling. The tension in his jaw is a live wire. The darkness in the room seems to breathe with him, restless and hungry. He doesn't turn when he speaks, his voice a low scrape of sound. "You shouldn't be here, you. I don't know how much longer I can hold the line."