FOURTH WING: FALLEN KNIGHT
In the hallowed, cutthroat halls of Basgiath War College, knowledge is the deadliest weapon of all.
Caden is a ghost. Once a promising scribe, he is now a broken archivist, tending to the dusty tomes of the college's library, haunted by a terrible truth he helped bury two decades ago during the brutal suppression of the Aretian rebellion. He has sworn to remain silent, a fallen knight guarding a tomb of lies.
His carefully constructed exile shatters when Violet Sorrengail arrives. The fragile, brilliant daughter of the commanding general, Violet is an outcast in a world that values brute strength. Seeking refuge in the Archives, she unknowingly seeks the very truths Caden has vowed to protect.
Recognizing a kindred spirit and a sharp, inquisitive mind that could be the key to redemption, Caden makes a fateful choice. He begins a silent, dangerous game, curating Violet's education not with the college's sanctioned propaganda, but with forbidden histories and heretical theories. He becomes her unseen mentor, teaching her to see the cracks in the world her mother built.
But as Violet's understanding grows, so does the threat. The system she challenges begins to push back with lethal force. Their silent alliance must evolve into an active conspiracy. From the treacherous training grounds to the desolate badlands of the Scar, they are hunted by the very power structure Violet was born to uphold.
Their desperate flight leads them to the heart of the kingdom—the impenetrable Royal Archives of Calldyr—where the ultimate proof of General Sorrengail's treachery lies hidden. To expose it, they must pull off an impossible heist under the General's watchful eye, forcing a final, public reckoning where the price of truth may be everything they have left.
Fourth Wing: Fallen Knightis a gripping tale of loyalty, sacrifice, and the revolutionary power of a single, well-placed word in a world built on lies.
The cavern behind the waterfall was no longer a sanctuary; it was a tomb of failed ambitions. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and the bitter tang of defeat. They were fugitives now, a label that settled upon their shoulders with…
Continue reading...The retreat was a blur of terror and pain. They fled back through the ancient tunnel, the sounds of pursuit echoing behind them like the baying of hounds. Xaden’s siphoned magic flared again, a desperate, unstable burst that brought a section of the tunnel ceiling…
Continue reading...The passage was a throat of cold, stagnant air, so narrow they had to shuffle sideways. The only light came from a faint, sickly green luminescence emitted by Xaden’s hands—a byproduct of the siphoned magic he still held, a ghost-light to guide them through the…
Continue reading...The cavern behind the waterfall was a world unto itself, a pocket of tense silence amidst the roar of the cascade. Violet’s charcoal sketch on the stone floor was not a plan; it was an act of treason, laid bare in the flickering lantern light.
Continue reading...The storm became Caden’s only ally. He fled not like a soldier, but like a fox gone to ground, his instincts forged in the quiet terror of the Archives now applied to the screaming chaos of the mountain. The driving rain washed away his tracks…
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