POV: Soraya
The night air outside the Ashra fortress was bitterly cold, colder than desert winds had any right to be. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was grief sinking into my bones, hardening everything inside me until all that remained was fury and purpose. I walked fast across the outer courtyard, boots crunching gravel, breath sharp and unsteady. I didn’t know where I was going—only that I needed space. Distance. Air that wasn’t heavy with memories of Baltimus dying in my arms.
Behind me, footsteps echoed.
“Soraya—wait.”
Of course he followed.
I didn’t stop. Not even when Raevan caught up, matching my pace with long strides.
“You can’t keep running like this,” he said quietly.
“I’m not running.” My voice came out like a blade. “I’m deciding.”
He frowned. “Deciding what?”
I turned toward him, the moonlight catching on my eyes, silver flickering under the surface.
“War.”
Raevan froze.
“Soraya,” he said slowly, “tell me you don’t mean that.”
“I do.” My heartbeat thrummed with conviction. “Zarek will choke the desert with blood until someone stops him. And Ashra—” I gestured toward the fortress. “Ashra lets assassins walk through its walls.”
His jaw tightened. “We didn’t ‘let’ anything—”
“Baltimus died here.” My voice shook. “He died because Ashra can’t keep its borders sealed. Because your elders bicker instead of lead. Because you—”
I stopped myself.
Raevan stepped closer. “Because I what?”
I looked him in the eyes, letting all the weight inside me settle.
“Because you rule with rage, not justice. Cruelty, not wisdom. Recklessness, not strategy.”
His breath hitched, a muscle ticking under his eye. “You think I’m cruel?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “And I think Saren is worse. That’s why both nations need to fall.”
Raevan exhaled in disbelief. “You’re speaking like—like an Alpha on the brink of starting a catastrophe.”
I lifted my chin. “Maybe I am.”
“You’re grieving,” he said softly.
“I’m thinking clearly for the first time in years.”
“War would destroy thousands—”
“And peace already has.” I gestured toward the palace. “Look around you. Wolves starving at borders. Families displaced. Scouts tortured. Baltimus—gone. How many more deaths until the desert realizes the truth?”
Raevan’s voice dropped to a rough whisper. “That truth being…?”
“That Zehrael is the only nation strong enough to stop the others.”
He stared at me, stunned. “Zehrael just resurfaced. You barely have alliances. Barely have trade. Barely have—”
“We have power, Raevan.” My voice rolled like thunder. “Real power. Wolves who can heal. Wolves who can bend energy. Wolves who shift into beasts no desert has ever seen. Wolves who survived extinction.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re talking about a full-scale revolution.”
“I’m talking about ending centuries of suffering.”
“You can’t lead a war—”
“I can lead better than most Alphas,” I shot back. “Better than Zarek. Better than half the elders in this desert. Better than anyone who keeps letting people die.”
Raevan’s expression darkened. Pain flickered across his face, sharp as lightning.
“And better than me,” he said.
I inhaled. Slowly. Deeply.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes, head tilting slightly as if the admission cut deeper than any blade.
“You hate me that much,” he murmured.
“I don’t hate Ashra,” I said quietly. “I don’t hate your people. But you—”
I stepped forward, voice trembling with truth.
“You are a tyrant. A broken one. Driven by pain instead of purpose. You think violence is the only way forward. You think fear makes you strong.”
His eyes opened—raw, exposed.
“You think I’m unfit to rule.”
I didn’t flinch. “Yes. I do.”
The words hung heavy between us, a final severing of something neither of us dared name.
Raevan’s voice cracked. “And Zehrael? You truly believe they can take on two nations at once? My pack may be fractured, but we are still strong. Saren’s army is enormous. You’re placing your people in danger.”
“My people,” I said firmly, “are stronger than you think. And they deserve a leader who won’t let them die quietly.”
He stared at me as if seeing me anew—like he didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of him.
“Soraya… you’re acting like Baltimus never existed. Like everything he stood for—peace, balance, restraint—meant nothing.”
My breath shattered. “Don’t you dare bring him into this.”
“He believed in unity—”
“He believed in me,” I whispered. “Something you never did.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” I stepped closer. “Every choice you made about me was tied to jealousy, not faith. You wanted me—but never trusted me. You protected me—but never believed I could protect myself. You hurt me. Over and over.”
Raevan swallowed hard. “I’m trying—”
“You always try too late.”
His eyes closed again. He breathed in once. Twice. When he opened them, the pain was still there—but so was a stubborn, unyielding fire.
“I won’t let you start a war that will kill you.”
“And I won’t let you stop me.”
“Then we’re enemies now,” he said softly.
I didn’t answer.
Because enemies wasn’t the right word.
We were something far worse.
Something more painful.
He reached out—hesitant—touching my arm lightly.
“Soraya. Please.”
I pulled away.
“No.”
He stood there, defeated, watching the woman he once broke… now breaking the world instead.
I turned and walked toward the fortress gates, the desert wind tugging at my cloak, carrying dust and war-promise.
Behind me, Raevan whispered my name like a prayer.
But prayers mean nothing to a woman already mourning the future she could never have.