Fourth Wing May 2026

“Welcome to the Quadrant, Rookie,” he said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “The dragons won’t care that you’re fragile. They’ll smell your desperation. They’ll taste your lies.”

Xaden crouched down until his face was level with mine. Up close, his eyes weren't black—they were the deep, violent violet of a brewing storm. Fourth Wing

Halfway across, the stone groaned.

“You’re shaking,” he observed, his voice a low rumble that competed with the storm. “Welcome to the Quadrant, Rookie,” he said, loud

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