POV: Soraya
Grief tastes like sand—dry, choking, endless. It fills every breath I try to take, turning my lungs to stone. Baltimus’s death replayed behind my eyes in an unbroken loop: the blood on the floor, the soft collapse of his body, the warmth fading from his skin beneath my hands. It clung to me like a curse.
Three days passed. Or maybe four.
Time blurred.
Zehrael wolves would have mourned beside me with songs and moon-chants. Ashra… Ashra buried the dead and moved on. Except this time, they watched me with wide eyes, whispering as if I was a storm waiting to descend upon them. Maybe I was.
I stayed inside the guest chamber Baltimus and I had shared. I did not open the balcony curtains. I did not answer when healers knocked. I did not sleep unless exhaustion crushed me.
Kaide tried gently the first day.
“Soraya. You don’t have to do this alone.”
I didn’t reply.
Vienne tried the second.
“Soraya, please eat something. For his sake.”
I stared at the wall.
Tazir tried on the third.
“I know you’re hurting. Baltimus—he meant a lot. But you’re scaring Vienne. At least speak.”
I didn’t even look at him.
When Kaide returned a second time, his frustration cracked through.
“This isn’t you. Talk to us. Break something. Scream. Run. Just—don’t disappear inside this grief.”
But disappearing was the only thing that didn’t hurt.
The fortress grew tense. Wolves patrolled heavier. Zarek’s threats circled like vultures. And still—I remained locked inside my silence, drowning.
It wasn’t until the fourth evening that someone opened my door without knocking.
I didn’t have to look to know who it was. The air changed. Heavy, charged, familiar in a way that made my skin burn.
Raevan.
He stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind him.
The silence stretched between us like a blade.
He didn’t speak for a long time. He simply watched me sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, arms around myself. My hair hung messy over my shoulders, and the marks beneath my eyes told their own story.
Finally, his voice dropped low.
“Soraya.”
I stiffened.
He exhaled slowly, as if he didn’t know how to approach without breaking something.
“I’ve respected your space. I’ve stayed away. But Kaide tells me you haven’t eaten. Vienne says you haven’t slept. You’re shutting everyone out.”
I laughed—a sharp, humorless sound.
“Everyone keeps repeating that. As if they know what this feels like.”
“I know loss,” he said, voice tightening.
“Not this.” My fingers curled into fists. “You didn’t hold Baltimus while he died. You didn’t feel a soul slip away in your arms. You didn’t—”
My voice cracked.
His jaw clenched, pain flickering across his face. Still, he didn’t move closer.
“I came to say I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I know my words mean nothing to you right now, but Baltimus was—”
“Don’t,” I cut sharply. “Don’t pretend you cared. You didn’t know him.
“No,” Raevan admitted quietly. “But I know you. And losing him broke you.”
That single sentence shattered something inside me.
I pushed myself to my feet, rage flooding upward like wildfire.
“You know nothing,” I hissed. “Nothing about what this did to me.”
He looked at me with that raw, open ache that made everything worse.
“I know you cared for him,” he said. “I know he mattered. And I know—”
“STOP TALKING.”
My voice erupted in the room.
He flinched, shock flickering through his expression. But I wasn’t done.
“You think I’m grieving only him? You think this is just about Baltimus?” My chest heaved. “I hate Saren. And I hate Ashra.”
His eyes widened.
I stepped closer, every word trembling with fury.
“Saren tortured me. Used me. Almost killed me more times than I can count.”
He swallowed, saying nothing.
“And Ashra?” My voice cracked. “Ashra couldn’t protect anyone. Not me. Not the scouts. Not the children you keep sending to the borders. Not even Baltimus, who was your honored guest. He died here, Raevan. On your land. Under your watch.”
Raevan’s face tightened with guilt.
“Zarek sent that assassin,” he said quietly.
“And Ashra let him in,” I snapped. “Your walls aren’t impenetrable. Your warriors aren’t invincible. Your promise of safety is a lie.”
His wolf pushed beneath his skin, reacting to my anger like a wounded animal.
“Soraya,” he said softly, painfully, “I’m doing everything I can.”
“It’s never enough,” I whispered. “Not for me. Not for Baltimus. And not for anyone caught between your endless war.”
He took a step toward me, hesitant.
“I came because I thought… maybe you needed someone.”
“I don’t need you,” I said coldly.
That one struck him—hard. His breath caught, but he didn’t back away.
“You’re hurting,” he said. “And I won’t fight you when you’re like this.”
“You think I’m hurting?” I whispered, voice shaking with rage. “I’m furious, Raevan. Furious that every home I ever touch burns down. Furious that every person I care about ends up dead. Furious that the desert keeps taking and taking and taking.”
My hands trembled at my sides, silver light crawling under my skin, threatening to break.
He looked at my glowing palms, worry flickering across his features.
“Soraya—your magic—”
“DON’T.”
I stepped back.
“Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me. Don’t pretend you can fix any of this.”
His expression shattered.
“I’m still your ally,” he murmured, voice cracking. “Even if you hate me.”
“I hate everything,” I whispered. “Everything except the people I lost.”
Silence hung heavy.
Then I walked past him.
“Soraya—”
“Don’t follow me,” I said without looking back. “I’m done talking. With you. With Ashra. With everyone.”
He stood frozen in the doorway, torn between reaching for me and respecting the boundary I built like a wall.
I didn’t wait to see what he chose.
I left the room, left the fortress halls, left the suffocating weight of Ashra behind me—if only for the night.
My grief followed me like a shadow.
My rage burned brighter than my magic.
And for the first time since arriving in Ashra…
I wasn’t sure if I would ever come back.