POV: Soraya
The Zehrael valley moved like a living organism in the days that followed—wolves running drills from dawn to dusk, smiths hammering steel beneath enchanted torches, desert witches weaving protective charms into armor. Every dune sang with tension. Every wind carried a promise of reckoning.
I spent my mornings overlooking the training grounds, issuing orders, adjusting formations, speaking with Vasken about supply routes, maps of the Saren borders, and the weaknesses of Zarek’s palace defenses. I barely slept. I barely ate. I existed on purpose alone.
Justice. Revenge. Balance.
By midday, a horn sounded from the outskirts of Zehrael. A visitor.
I tensed immediately—Saren spies?
Ashra envoys?
Or worse, an assassin sent to finish Baltimus’s work?
Warriors rushed toward the entrance. I followed, pushing through the gathered wolves until I saw the arriving figures.
Kaide walked at the front.
He wore Ashra colors—deep blue and obsidian black—but his face carried exhaustion I had never seen on him before. Behind him, two Ashra warriors rolled a wooden casket carved with moon symbols, draped in the Zehrael crest.
My breath caught painfully.
Baltimus.
Kaide stepped forward slowly, cautiously, as if testing whether I would allow him to stand near me. I swallowed hard and nodded once.
He bowed his head—not as a soldier, but as a friend.
“Luna Soraya,” he said softly, “forgive the delay. I insisted on bringing him myself. Ashra… owed him respect.”
My eyes burned.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Kaide straightened and motioned to the warriors, who gently lowered the casket. A hush fell over the crowd as Zehrael wolves approached, fingers trembling as they touched the wood, whispering prayers in the ancient tongue.
Kaide stepped beside me, voice almost a breath.
“I’m sorry. Truly.”
I exhaled shakily. “He deserved better. He should still be here.”
Kaide looked at me then—really looked—and for the first time since Baltimus’s death, I didn’t immediately turn away.
“He was a good man,” Kaide murmured. “A strong Alpha. And he cared for you.”
My throat tightened. “He did.”
“And you cared for him,” Kaide added carefully.
It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t pity.
Just truth.
I blinked rapidly, fighting the burn in my eyes.
“I did. He was… someone I trusted. Someone who believed in me when no one else did.”
Kaide didn’t speak, but his presence felt steady—solid in a way I hadn’t realized I needed until that moment.
For several minutes, we stood in silence as Zehrael elders prepared to bury the casket in the sacred dunes reserved for Alphas. When the final rites ended and the crowd dispersed, Kaide gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I want you to know he was honored in Ashra,” he said. “Warriors lit torches for him. Elders spoke of his wisdom. Even Raevan…”
He hesitated.
I closed my eyes. “Don’t.”
Kaide nodded. “I understand.”
We walked a few steps away from the ceremony before Kaide spoke again, voice heavier now.
“Soraya… there’s something else I need to say.”
I tensed. “If it’s about Raevan—”
“It’s not,” he said quickly. “It’s about you.”
I turned to face him, brows furrowing.
He inhaled deeply. “I know what you’re planning. Vienne told me a little. And I saw the preparations myself—your warriors training day and night, weapons forged in Zehrael style, scouts already mapping Saren’s routes…”
His eyes softened.
“You’re starting a war.”
“Yes.” My voice was ice. “A war that needs to happen.”
Kaide shook his head slowly. “Does it?”
I stiffened. “Zarek killed Baltimus. Tortured Ashra scouts. Hunted me for years. He will keep hurting people until someone stops him.”
“Agreed,” Kaide said gently. “But a war led by Zehrael alone? Soraya… you just rebuilt your people. They finally found peace again. Letting them bleed for you—”
“It’s not for me,” I snapped. “It’s for all of us.”
Kaide stepped closer. “Then let us help. Ashra has warriors. Resources. Strategy.”
“Ashra didn’t help Baltimus,” I spat. “Ashra couldn’t even protect its own Alpha.”
Kaide’s expression faltered. “We made mistakes. But we are trying—Raevan is—”
I cut him off with a harsh shake of my head.
“I don’t trust Raevan to lead a war. I don’t trust Ashra to keep their promises. I don’t trust nations built on fear and politics.”
Kaide’s voice softened painfully.
“You don’t trust anyone anymore.”
His words hit harder than I expected.
I swallowed, feeling my chest tighten. “I trust Zehrael,” I whispered. “I trust Baltimus’s teachings. I trust the magic that kept us alive.”
Kaide exhaled carefully. “Magic doesn’t win wars alone.”
“I know,” I said. “But conviction does. And Zehrael has more conviction than any nation in this desert.”
Kaide looked at me with something close to sorrow.
“Soraya… I know you’re grieving. And I won’t pretend I understand your pain. But starting a war while your heart is shattered—this path might swallow you whole.”
I clenched my fists. “Then let it.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why?” My voice dropped into a whisper. “What do I have left to lose?”
Kaide stepped forward, gripping my shoulders gently but firmly.
“You have your people,” he said. “You have your strength. You have your legacy. Baltimus trusted you with Zehrael—not to burn the desert down, but to build something better. Something he couldn't.”
Emotion clawed at my throat.
Kaide continued softly.
“And you have us. Vienne. Tazir. Even Raevan, whether you want to admit it or not. You’re not alone.”
Heat stung my eyes again. I hated it. I hated how fragile grief made me feel.
Kaide’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Please. Don’t throw yourself into war without thinking.”
“I have thought,” I whispered. “And my decision stands.”
He searched my face—really searched it—and finally sighed.
“Then I’ll stand with you,” he said quietly. “Even if I don’t agree with your reasons… I won’t let you face Saren alone.”
A strange ache twisted inside me.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He nodded once, stepping back.
“But promise me something.”
I lifted my chin. “What?”
“Don’t become what you’re fighting,” Kaide said softly. “Don’t let vengeance turn you into Zarek.”
I didn’t answer. Because I wasn’t sure I could promise that.