POV: Soraya
The morning after Kaide arrived, Zehrael woke before the sun. Warriors gathered on the dunes, smiths lit their forge-fires, and the witches of the Moon Wells murmured ancient chants that made the sand tremble underfoot. Preparing for war gave the tribe a rhythm—sharp, purposeful, unified.
But it was the training fields, stretching across the eastern valley, where the heart of preparation beat the loudest.
And that was where Kaide found me.
I stood barefoot in the sand, hands raised, magic crackling around my arms like threads of silver lightning. Vasken had arranged a ring of stone targets around me—each marked with symbols of Saren’s defenses. I was supposed to shatter them one by one with controlled bursts of power.
Instead, three of them were already smoldering ruins, and the fourth still glowed with residual heat.
Kaide let out a low whistle. “You always did have dramatic timing.”
I lowered my hands, breath quick and uneven. “Dramatic isn’t the goal. Controlled is.”
He stepped closer, crossing his arms. “Controlled comes with practice. Dramatic comes with… well, you.”
I gave him a tired glare. He smirked faintly, but the exhaustion behind his eyes softened the expression.
“You slept?” he asked.
“No.”
“You ate?”
I didn’t answer.
Kaide sighed. “That’s what I thought.”
We stood in silence for a moment, the wind whipping the ends of my hair across my face. He studied me with a mixture of worry and something almost like awe.
“You’re stronger than before,” he finally said. “Much stronger.”
“Zehrael magic grows with emotion,” I murmured. “Grief. Fury. Determination. It fuels everything.”
“Which is exactly why I’m here,” Kaide replied. “You need balance. Or your power will burn you alive before you even reach Saren.”
I didn’t argue. Because he was right.
He nodded toward the targets. “Show me again. Slowly this time.”
I raised my hand, letting a soft glow build beneath my skin. Kaide watched closely—too closely—ready to jump in if anything went wrong. I aimed at the nearest stone symbol and pushed a gentle wave of energy forward.
The stone cracked down the middle, splitting cleanly without exploding.
Kaide’s eyebrows lifted. “Better. Again.”
I did it again. And again. Each time more controlled, more deliberate, more steady.
When the last stone crumbled into sand, I let out a slow breath.
Kaide stepped beside me, tone gentler than before. “You’re doing well.”
“Not well enough.”
He frowned. “Soraya—”
“I can’t afford to lose control. Not if I want to win. Not if I want Zehrael safe.” I paused. “Not if I want to face Zarek myself.”
Kaide’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t just about Zarek. You’re preparing an entire nation for war. You’re leading them.”
“And they chose me,” I said quietly. “They trust me.”
“I know.” His voice softened. “That’s what scares me.”
I stiffened. “Kaide—”
“No. Listen.” He stepped in front of me, eyes searching mine. “I’m helping you train because if you’re determined to go through with this, then I want you to survive it. But I need you to understand something.”
His voice lowered.
“War changes Alphas. It changes nations. And revenge changes the soul. You’re stepping into a path that even Baltimus hesitated to walk.”
My throat tightened. “Baltimus didn’t have the choice I do.”
“Maybe,” Kaide conceded. “But Baltimus wanted peace. He believed Zehrael deserved a future without blood spilled on sand every generation.”
“I’m not destroying that future,” I said. “I’m protecting it.”
“And yourself?” he asked quietly. “Who protects you?”
My breath caught.
For a moment—for a fragile heartbeat—I let myself feel the weight of everything pressing on my shoulders. Leadership. Expectations. Rage. Grief. Magic that burned too bright under my skin.
But then I straightened.
“I’ll protect myself,” I whispered.
Kaide shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“Yet I do.”
Silence fell between us.
Then Kaide exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fine. If you insist on marching into hell, then I’ll walk beside you.”
Despite the heaviness inside me, something warm flickered in my chest. “Thank you.”
“But,” he added, raising a finger, “if you step even one foot into recklessness, I will knock sense into you myself.”
I snorted. “You can try.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he retorted.
We returned to training—this time with Kaide guiding me through Zehrael fighting stances, grounding techniques, and breath work. He corrected my posture with the lightest touch, and each time his fingers brushed my arm, I felt a strange mixture of comfort and something unspoken lingering beneath the surface.
Hours passed. The sun sank lower. The heat gave way to a cool breeze. And still, Kaide stayed.
When we finally stopped, sweat clung to my skin, and my muscles trembled with fatigue.
Kaide handed me a flask of water. “Drink.”
I obeyed without arguing—a rare concession he seemed to appreciate.
He hesitated before speaking again. “Soraya… are you sure about this war?”
I tightened my grip on the flask. “Yes.”
He studied me, searching for cracks. Doubts. Anything that could give him hope.
But I had none left.
“I won’t let Baltimus’s death go unanswered,” I said. “And I won’t let Zarek keep ruling through terror.”
Kaide’s shoulders fell. “Then at least let me fight with you.”
I looked up sharply. “Kaide—Ashra needs you.”
“Ashra has Raevan,” he said bitterly. “Whether that’s a blessing or curse is up for debate. But you… you need someone you trust.”
My breath hitched.
“I don’t want to lose another person,” I whispered.
“Then don’t push me away.”
The emotion in his voice nearly unraveled me. But I held his gaze.
“Alright,” I murmured. “You can fight beside me.”
Relief flashed through him, subtle but unmistakable.
As we walked back toward the Zehrael camp, he stayed close—but not too close. Just enough to remind me I wasn’t alone. Not entirely.
And as the war preparations filled the night with clanging steel and chanting witches, I realized something with a twist of pain:
Baltimus’s absence had left a wound that would never fully heal. But Kaide’s presence… steadied the edges of it.
And when dawn came, Zehrael would be ready to march behind me.