Fourth Wing is chaos incarnate, wrapped in fire and wings and just enough logic to keep you from throwing this book across the room. Rebecca Yarros built a world where survival is a fucking miracle.
Basgiath isn’t a Hogwarts rip-off or some cozy school where friendship and courage conquer all. No, this place eats weaklings for breakfast and uses their corpses for compost. Students die. A lot. Sometimes for reasons as stupid as standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you’re weak, you die. If you’re unprepared, you die. If someone doesn’t like your face? You guessed it—dead. There’s no faculty here to guide you to greatness. They’re here to cull the herd and make sure only the strongest—and luckiest—walk out alive.
The dragons are the real stars in this story. They’re majestic, terrifying, and absolutely not interested in your bullshit. They choose their riders based on strength, intelligence, and whether they think you’ll die entertainingly. Bonding with one isn’t a fairy tale—it’s a high-stakes gamble. And when you bond one, well, they can speak to you. Into your mind. All of a sudden, they are absolutely interested in your shit and much less terrifying. If I hadn’t already read the second book (Iron Flame), I would wonder why an apex predator with no competition in sight would ever care to interact with humans.
At the heart of it all is Navarre, the kingdom that Basgiath serves and defends. Navarre is a militarized state, its power rooted in its dragon riders and the elite war college that churns them out. But beneath its disciplined surface lies a deeply stratified society, where the powerful thrive, and the weak are forgotten. The monarchy, though technically ruling, relies heavily on the might of Basgiath to maintain its dominance. Every political decision, every treaty, hinges on the strength of their dragon riders.
Yet, Navarre’s focus on militaristic dominance has left cracks in its foundation. Resources are stretched thin, the wards are failing, and the people are restless and one missed paycheck away from a rebellion. Farmers complain of taxes that leave them destitute, merchants whisper of corruption, and commoners resent a system that sacrifices their children to Basgiath’s brutal training. Sounds familiar? It’s because it is.
The land is defined by its borders—some natural, others magical, and all precariously balanced on the edge of collapse. The wards are the kingdom’s last line of defense, colossal barriers infused with ancient magic to keep out the marauding beasts that lurk beyond. These wards are not eternal; they’re faltering, flickering with ominous instability that the higher-ups at Basgiath and the capital would prefer to keep quiet.
To the north and beyond the wards lie the gryphon riders, fierce and feral. They are the punk rock to Navarre’s radio pop. Their society is built on freedom and chaos, the antithesis of Basgiath’s rigid hierarchy. Their motives are complex. Some ride for vengeance against Navarre’s tyranny, others for survival in a world that has forced them into the margins. There’s so much more to the gryphon riders and this first book leaves us—and very well at that—wanting to know more about these mysterious wildlings.
Enter Violet Sorrengail, our brittle-boned, sharp-tongued heroine, who is thrown into this meat grinder by a mother who makes Pamela Voorhees look like a Care Bear. Violet’s strength isn’t in her muscles—it’s in her brain and her sheer refusal to die just because everyone assumes she will. She should come and try a Jiu-Jitsu class with me. She’s like a glass cannon, dangerous but fragile, and watching her navigate this world is equal parts exhilarating and anxiety-inducing. It’s also at times a predictable trope of the weak overcoming the strong but by that time you’re invested in the characters, so you really don’t care.
And obviously, on the opposite side we have Violet’s arch-enemy turned love interest, Xaden Riorson. The walking definition of “your worst enemy turned inconvenient ally.” He’s like that one guy in a band who plays bass and somehow still steals all the attention without even trying. Think Aragorn with a criminal record and a dragon who probably judges your life choices just as much as Xaden does. But underneath the smirks and snark is a man who’s carrying more weight than anyone should, especially in a world where dragons are not the backseat drivers. He’s all about strategy, loyalty, and doing what’s necessary, even if it makes him the villain in someone else’s story.
If Violet and Xaden’s dynamics don’t make you roll your eyes and swoon simultaneously, are you even reading Fourth Wing right? Let it go and embrace the ride.
What Rebecca nails perfectly is the politics in this world which is a game of secrets, lies, and betrayals. The capital city, with its gleaming spires and gilded halls, is a den of intrigue where nobles vie for power and influence. Alliances are fleeting, marriages are strategic, and loyalty is as rare as dragon fire. Basgiath itself isn’t immune to this game. Every cadet, every bonded dragon, every maneuver within the college echoes the political machinations of the outside world.
The monarchy claims to be the ultimate authority, but whispers suggest otherwise. Some believe the dragon riders hold the real power, their dominance over the skies unmatched. Others suggest that the scholars and mages who maintain the wards are the true linchpins of Navarre’s survival. And then there are the dissenters—those who argue that Navarre’s obsession with military might is its greatest weakness, leaving its people disillusioned and vulnerable. This is what I fucking came to read, well done Rebecca.
What Fourth Wing doesn’t quite nail, for all its strengths, is that the pacing stumbles in places, particularly during the extended training sequences. The romantic tension, while compelling, occasionally overshadows the larger stakes. And some of the secondary characters like Rhiannon and Liam feel underdeveloped, their arcs sacrificed to keep the focus on Violet and Xaden. Rebecca fixes this halfway through to the end of the book and completely redeems herself in the second installment. At least for one of them. Wink wink.
Fourth Wing is a masterclass in tension, world-building, and character dynamics. It’s a story that grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go, dragging you through its brutal, beautiful world with all the subtlety of a dragon’s roar. Is it perfect? No. But it doesn’t need to be. It’s bold, addictive, and unapologetically itself—a book that dares you to look away and knows you won’t. If you’re like me, born to tame dragons, forced to reply to e-mails, you will enjoy this book!
Fourth Wing precedes Iron Flame and Onyx Storm (out in January 21st, 2025). You can follow Rebecca on socials as she’s super active, and can get to know her other publications (that I honestly haven’t read. Yet.) Don’t have socials? Worry not, Rebecca also has a great website! Here.
Keep questioning, keep exploring, keep reading!
Do you want to read “Fourth Wing“?
I read it as an E-book! You can find all versions of it on Amazon.
