CHAPTER 126 — Zarek Takes Advantage

POV: Soraya

The desert holds its breath.

Zarek stands before us in his human form, golden armor cracked and dripping blood down his ribs. Raevan is beside me, half-shifted and trembling with fury. My magic pulses under my skin—silver, alive, violent. The air between the three of us crackles like a charged storm waiting to strike.

Zarek smirks.

“So. Both of you against me,” he says softly. “How poetic.”

I take a step forward, sand swirling around my feet as the last spark of my shield dissolves into the hot air.

“This ends today,” I tell him. “You don’t get to hurt anyone else.”

His eyes sharpen.

“No, Soraya,” he murmurs. “It only begins.”

Raevan launches first.

He shifts mid-lunge—bones twisting, fur bursting, a black shadow tearing across the Moonsand. Zarek dodges the first swipe, rolling across the sand with inhuman speed, but Raevan gets him with the second. His claws slash across Zarek’s chest, splitting armor like paper. Blood sprays.

Zarek hisses in pain, staggered, and I move.

My power surges up my arms—silver-white, burning through my veins. I grab Zarek by the collar and slam my palm against his chest. Magic explodes through him. He flies backward, hitting the dune so hard the sand caves in.

For a heartbeat, he doesn’t rise.

Raevan prowls around him, growling deep in his wolf form, ready to finish it.

“Let me,” I say, voice shaking with fury.

Raevan steps back without hesitation.

I walk toward Zarek slowly, every heartbeat echoing with Baltimus’s last breath. My husband. My partner. My friend. Blood darkens my fingertips as power gathers, ready to burn through him, ready to end him the way he ended Baltimus.

“You took everything from me,” I whisper.

Zarek lifts his head, coughing. His cheek is split, his eyes blazing feral gold.

“You always exaggerate,” he spits. “Baltimus was nothing. A placeholder until you understood who you truly belonged to.”

Something snaps inside me.

“I belonged to him,” I say, voice shaking. “I chose him. And you murdered him.”

Zarek laughs—a low, broken sound dripping with madness.

“He died too easily. Weak wolves do.”

The ground cracks beneath my feet as my power surges violently enough to send sparks up my arms. Raevan snarls behind me, shaking with rage.

I raise my hand, ready to unleash everything—

Zarek moves. Not with speed. Not with grace. With calculation.

He lurches sideways, pulling something from the sand—long, black metal glinting, inscribed with silver symbols that make my heart stop.

Kaide’s voice rings out across the Moonsand in a horrified shout.

“SORAYA—NO!”

But it’s too late.

Zarek brandishes a dagger—long, curved, glimmering with ancient runes.

A Zehrael-bane blade.

My wolf inside me shrieks, clawing at my ribs in terror.

Zarek’s smile is cold.

“You think I came unprepared?”

Raevan lunges, but Zarek slides backward, sand kicking up as he moves with unnatural agility. He dodges Raevan’s claws, spins, and drives the blade forward—not toward Raevan.

Toward me.

I lift my arm too slow, too tired, too consumed by fury to see the trap.

The blade plunges into my side.

The world stops. My breath collapses. My vision turns white. Fire—cold, searing fire—spreads through my ribs. Zarek leans close, whispering against my ear as the blade sinks deeper.

“Didn’t Baltimus teach you? Zehrael shouldn’t let their anger blind them.”

I choke out a sound—not a scream, not a cry—the sound of disbelief and agony ripping through my throat.

Raevan’s roar tears the sky open.

He slams into Zarek a heartbeat too late, dragging him away from me, jaws snapping shut around Zarek’s shoulder. Zarek screams as he’s thrown into the sand. The dagger pulls free of my body—

And the pain explodes into something indescribable.

“SORAYA!”

Vienne screams somewhere in the distance.

My knees hit the sand.

Blood pours between my fingers. Silver light flickers weakly around the wound, sputtering, dying. The runes on the blade burn through my skin like acid. My head spins, vision doubling.

Raevan’s wolf throws Zarek across the battlefield, but Zarek rolls to his feet, bleeding heavily yet triumphant.

“That’s the power of Zehrael downfall,” he says, panting. “A blade forged from your own ancestors’ bones. Nothing can heal it.”

Raevan snarls, ready to tear him apart.

But I barely hear them.

All I feel is the cold.

My magic retreats like water draining from a broken vessel. The light around me dims. I collapse sideways into the Moonsand, breaths sharp and shallow. The sky above blurs into white streaks.

Raevan shifts back in mid-charge, scrambling toward me.

“Soraya—Soraya, look at me—” His voice cracks, raw with panic.

I try.

But the world is fading. Zarek’s laugh echoes across the battlefield, triumphant and cruel.

And the chapter ends with Zarek standing over the sand—bleeding, shaking, smiling—as the Zehrael-bane blade glows in his hand.