# CHAPTER 22: The First Surge of Power — and a Kiss in the Snow
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? Today, I will continue to walk with you and review CHAPTER 22 of *Fourth Wing* — a chapter that crackles with tension, desire, and the very first terrifying rush of channeling power. If you think you know Violet Sorrengail by now, think again. This is the chapter where everything shifts. So grab your flight leathers, keep your shields up, and let’s dive into the fire.
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The sparring gym was thick with the clatter of wooden staffs and the grunts of exhausted riders. Tuesday nights were now reserved for squad hand-to-hand practice — a necessity when academic loads, flight lessons, and the first stirrings of signet training chewed up every spare moment. Violet stood across from Rhiannon, sweat dampening her tunic, her dragon-scale vest drying on a bench beside Liam, who was carving yet another dragon figurine with the patience of a watchful guardian.
"You're taking it easy on me," Violet accused, her staff swishing through the air.
"You're tired," Rhiannon replied. "And the last thing I want is to hurt you."
"Challenges resume after solstice," Violet reminded her. "You're not doing me any favors by holding back."
"She's not wrong," came a deep voice from behind her.
Violet didn't need to turn. She could feel him — Xaden Riorson, shadow-father, wingleader, and the most infuriatingly magnetic presence in the entire quadrant. He passed by with Garrick, and despite every logical thought screaming at her to ignore him, her eyes followed him anyway.
"Go away unless you have something useful to say," she shot back over her shoulder.
"Move faster. You'll be less likely to die. How's that for useful?" he called back, taking a mat closer to the center of the gym.
And then — because the universe clearly enjoyed torturing her — Xaden and Garrick stripped off their shirts and began to spar.
It was a blur of lethal grace and rippling muscle. Every line of Xaden's body was honed like a weapon, his rebellion relic twisting across bronze skin, his abdomen a map of rigid definition. Violet knew she was staring. Every woman — and several men — in the gym was staring. But for her, it wasn't just appreciation. It was a visceral, bone-deep longing that made her mouth water and her heart thud violently against her ribs.
"Serves you right," Tairn growled as she took a strike to the hip, knocked out of her trance.
Rhiannon laughed, but even she couldn't tear her eyes away from the display. Liam teased them both, calling it objectification. Violet didn't care. She was shamelessly wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers across that sculpted back, the largest dragon relic she'd ever seen consuming his entire spine.
The moment shattered when Jack Barlowe's mocking voice cut through the gym. He laughed at Violet's fall, sneered at her lack of wielding, and threatened to snap her neck in front of an audience in a few weeks' time.
"You ran," Violet snarled, rising to her feet, her voice steel. "That day in the field, you *fucking ran* when it was three on one, and we both know when it comes down to it, you'll run again. That's what cowards do."
Jack's face flushed with fury. He lunged — and Liam muscled him off the mat, shoving him toward the doors while Xaden flicked his hand, sealing Jack out with a surge of shadow. For a fleeting moment, Violet felt a thrill of victory. But Dain was quick to scold her, marching toward her with his jaw clenched.
"Oh, *now* you feel like talking to me?" Violet lifted her chin.
Xaden stepped between them, his eyes burning with barely restrained fury. He wasn't about to let this go. He pointed at the bench where her armor lay.
"You want to tell me why the fuck you're not wearing that?"
"I have to wash it at some point," she said, her voice sharp, but her pulse skittering at the heat rolling off him.
"And you thought that would be a good idea during *sparring*?"
Their argument crackled like a storm, close and electric. He leaned into her space, eclipsing the world, his voice dropping to something quiet and deadly. "You know I can't kill you. Fuck, Sorrengail, the entire *quadrant* knows I can't kill you. That doesn't mean you can't hurt me."
He recoiled, composing himself in the span of a second, leaving Violet breathless. He told her to stop training with a staff, to stick with daggers. He told her to learn how to block Tairn out. And when she snapped that she still couldn't channel, he gave her a look that said he was aware of *everything* she did.
But it was the moment he turned to walk away that Violet's quiet gasp escaped her. His back — that massive, beautiful relic — was crisscrossed with raised silver lines she hadn't seen from across the gym. Scars. Deep, intentional scars that told a story of pain and survival she had never glimpsed.
"She held her own and controlled her temper," Tairn said with a swell of pride.
"She's ready," Andarna added with a giddy jolt of joy.
"She's ready," he agreed.
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A few hours later, Violet stood in her room, ripping a brush through her hair, still fully dressed in boots and armor. She was mortified. She'd made a spectacle of herself over a shirtless Xaden. She needed to get laid. She needed to get her head on straight.
And then a rush of energy raced down her spine.
At first, she dismissed it. But it came again — stronger, relentless, humming under her skin, ringing in her ears. It was as if she was being split apart at the seams, a torrent of raw, endless power eroding everything she was and forging something brand new. Her knees hit the floor. Pain seared every nerve. She could only lie there, praying for the pressure to equalize.
When it finally ebbed, the power didn't leave. It prowled through her veins, saturating every cell. She could *feel* it. Shape it. Mold it.
"This is your power, isn't it?" she asked Tairn. Silence.
"Andarna?" Nothing.
Of course. They were never around when she needed them.
She stood, giddy and trembling, desperate to tell Rhiannon and Liam. But heat washed over her, centering low in her stomach. The next wave hit — not pain, but *need*. An unimaginable, primal craving that stripped away all logical thought.
She yanked open her door and found Liam in the hallway. For a moment, he looked beautiful to her — his sky-blue eyes, his strong features. She nearly stepped toward him, nearly gave in to the burning compulsion to touch him.
But her mind screamed: *He's not who you really want. He's not Xaden.*
She slammed the door, realizing with horror that this wasn't her desire at all. It was Tairn's. The dragon's emotions were controlling her entirely.
She had to flee.
Grabbing her cloak, she raced down the spiral steps toward the river, the mage lights flickering on and off as she passed. Snow filled the sky, kissing her overheated skin. She staggered to the foundation walls of the citadel, hoping to escape until Tairn and Sgaeyl finished... whatever they were doing.
And there, leaning against the wall with a curl of smoke drifting from his lips, was Xaden.
"Want some?" He offered her a rolled churam with a smirk. "Unless you're here to continue our earlier argument, in which case, none for you."
"I feel like I'm on fucking *fire*," she admitted, bracing against the wall.
"Yeah. That happens." His laugh held a wicked edge. And when he threw his head back, smiling, Violet felt her heart clench in her chest. There was nothing she wouldn't give for one unguarded moment with this man.
They argued about Liam, about his help, about her stubbornness. But beneath the banter, the tension was unbearable. She finally admitted she needed to learn how to shield — and Xaden, with a reluctant sigh, agreed to teach her.
"Close your eyes," he murmured, cradling her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. "Envision somewhere that feels like home."
She chose the Archives. She grounded herself, felt her boots on the polished marble floor. He guided her to find where the power flowed from, and when she saw the torrent pouring through the door, he told her to shut it. Lock it.
She pushed against that heavy, circular door with all her mental might — and sealed it. The relief was immediate. The suffocating need dulled to a manageable hum.
"You are astonishing," Xaden said, shaking his head. "I couldn't do that for *weeks*."
Violet grinned, euphoric. But his gaze dropped to her lips. He drew her forward a few inches, then abruptly let go, stepping back.
"Damn it. Touching you was a bad idea."
"The worst," she agreed, her tongue skimming her lower lip.
"Kissing you would be a cataclysmic mistake."
"Calamitous."
Desire crackled between them like lightning. He stared at her, hunger warring with restraint. "We'll both regret it," he rasped.
"Naturally," she whispered. "But knowing I'll regret it doesn't stop me from wanting it."
And then he broke.
"Fuck it."
His mouth crashed onto hers — hot, insistent, devastating. Violet melted into him, clutching his chest, pulling him closer as he tunneled a hand through her hair and took the kiss deeper. He tasted like churam and mint. He groaned her name — *Violence* — and it made her ravenous. He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, the wall digging into her back, the snow falling around them like a benediction.
She surrendered completely. This was madness. It was reckless. It was *everything*.
But then he broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, his brow furrowing in panic. He set her down, kept her steady, and retreated several feet.
"You have to go," he said, his voice ragged.
"Why?"
"Because I can't." He raked both hands through his hair. "And I refuse to act on desire that isn't yours. So you have to walk back up those steps. Now."
"But I want —" everything.
"This isn't *your* want. That's the fucking problem."
And he was right. She'd lost her grounding in his arms, and Tairn's emotions had flooded back in. She couldn't trust what she felt. With a heavy heart, she fled — again.
Back in her room, she lay awake, her body still aching with the ghost of his kiss. Tomorrow was going to be miserable.
The next day, she told Rhiannon everything. About the first surge of power. About the crushing, uncontrollable lust that had nearly driven her into Liam's arms. About Xaden's lesson, his kiss, his abrupt rejection.
"Was it good?" Rhiannon asked, her eyes sparkling. "Tell me it was good. That man looks like he knows exactly what he's doing."
But Violet's mind was already tangled in darker threads. The power was surging through her. The bond with Tairn was alive and terrifying. And Xaden... Xaden had kissed her with all the fire of a dying sun, only to push her away because he refused to be a puppet of dragon passion.
One thing was certain: her clock had started. And the game had just become unspeakably dangerous.
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**Reader's Impressions & Star Rating**
This chapter is a masterpiece of tension and emotional chaos. Watching Violet grapple with her newfound channeling abilities while practically drowning in Tairn's desire is both hilarious and painful — and the chemistry between her and Xaden is absolutely incendiary. The training montage, the shield lesson, and that feverish kiss in the snow are unforgettable. The realism of her fear and arousal makes the story feel dangerously immersive. I laughed, blushed, and held my breath. Absolutely phenomenal.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.9 / 5 Stars
**Next Chapter Prediction**
With Violet now officially channeling, she'll likely report to Professor Carr's class — where she'll finally begin to explore her signet. But given the explosive cliffhanger with Xaden, I predict the next chapter will bring a storm of unresolved tension: Xaden's careful distance will crack, Jack Barlowe's threats will escalate, and Violet may discover that her new power is far more unstable — and far more dangerous — than anyone expected. She's going to need those shields, and fast.
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