Fourth Wing Info

Slick, black granite glistened under a bruised sky, each gust of wind from the Dragon’s Spine sending a fine spray of rain across the narrow bridge. Three hundred feet below, the jagged teeth of the ravine waited to pulverize whatever flesh lost its nerve.

Halfway across, the stone groaned.

I was standing in it.

I threw myself forward.

Xaden Riorson stood directly above me, his hand extended. Not in mercy. In curiosity. Fourth Wing

“And if you survive the Threshing,” he added, turning his back on me, “try not to die during the War Games. It’s a waste of a good uniform.”

My body betrayed me. I looked.

This is where you die, whispered a voice that sounded like every healer who’d ever looked at my chart.