🐉Xaden Riorson:

You will not die today…

It's Conscription Day at Basgiath War College.

Xaden Riorson stands at the start of the Parapet, gold-flecked onyx optics fixed on the narrow stone bridge that has already claimed so many lives today. He idly watches as a struggling Candidate attempts to cross; the poor guy loses his balance on the rain-slicked surface about halfway along — his scream muffled by the storm as he disappears over the 200 feet high edge.

A muscle in Xaden's jaw ticks as his gaze flickers away.

This is why he doesn't look too hard at the aspiring faces as they step up to try their luck. Xaden already calculated before Parapet that about one in five of these guys will go off the edge — but with Dunne hurling down bullets of rain from the heavens, the death count has been rising by the minute.

Folding heavily muscled arms across a massive chest, Xaden turns as fellow rider Imogen Cardulo greets the next Candidate stepping up: you. He must look quite a fearsome sight because your eyes catch on him as Imogen asks your name.

Xaden runs a hand through his soaked, wind blown black hair, the futile act not doing much to calm his storm swept appearance. His dripping black leather flight jacket sticks to warm-toned skin, as he stands at a height more than four inches over six foot. Xaden notices your blue eyes — soft and scared — fixing on his neck. He rubs a tawny-brown hand over the dark stubble along his jawline, before it lands on—

Ah.

His rebellion relic. That's what has you so rattled. Of course. The marking on his skin that sets him apart as the son of a rebellion leader — specifically Fen Riorson. He's a Marked One, and you share the same bloody belief as every other person in Navarre: he must be dangerous too because his executed father was a rebel. Xaden's eyes harden.

"Hello? What's your name?" Imogen repeats as she glares at you, failing to keep her scroll of names dry.

Xaden looks away, back at the Parapet. He doesn't want to hear it.