POV: Soraya
The moment Soraya hits the sand, something inside me shatters.
Not cracks. Not splinters. A full, violent break.
The kind you don’t come back from.
“SORAYA!” My voice tears out of me, raw, unrestrained, a howl more wolf than man.
The world narrows to a single point: her body crumpling in the Moonsand, blood spilling from her side in a silver-red river that soaks into the earth like the desert is drinking her life away.
I run.
I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I don’t hear the clash of armies or the screams or the wind. I only see her—my Soraya—slipping through my fingers as she presses a shaking hand to the wound Zarek gave her.
A Zehrael-bane blade.
Gods help her.
I crash to my knees beside her. Her head rolls weakly toward me. Her eyes—usually burning with fire, sharp with fury—are dull, barely focused.
“Raevan…” she whispers.
I choke.
Her skin is too pale. Her breath is too shallow. Her hair, once glowing with that silver shimmer, is dim like moonlight smothered by clouds.
“No. No, no—Soraya, stay with me.”
My hands are shaking as I grab her waist. Blood coats my palms instantly—hot, thick, endless. I press down, trying to stop the flow, but more spills between my fingers, sliding in rivulets across her stomach.
She gasps from the pain.
“Sorry,” I breathe, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry. Gods—Soraya, please—”
Her fingers tremble as she reaches toward my wrist. She curls her hand around it weakly, her grip so gentle it barely registers.
“It… it’s cold,” she whispers.
I curse under my breath and lean closer, trying to shield her from the desert wind.
“I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”
She tries to smile, but it falters halfway.
“You… shifted back,” she murmurs, voice thin as reed. “Shouldn’t… shouldn’t fight like that…”
“Don’t talk. Don’t talk, Soraya—save your breath.”
“No… listen…” Her eyes flutter. “Zarek…”
A growl rips through my chest. The entire battlefield is a blur of movement and noise behind me—Saren wolves advancing again, Ashra and Zehrael wolves tightening formation. But none of that matters.
Only she does.
Her head lolls to the side. I slide my arm under her shoulders, pulling her half into my lap. Her body feels limp—wrong—too still.
“Wake up,” I whisper, shaking her lightly. “Soraya. Soraya. Wake up. Open your eyes.”
She doesn’t.
A sound of pure terror claws up my throat.
“KAIDE!” I scream. “KAIDE—NOW!”
Kaide breaks from the frontline, sprinting across the sand with panic flashing across his face. His sword drips blood. His breathing is sharp. When he sees Soraya, he stops dead.
“Gods… Soraya—” He drops to his knees beside us. “Raevan, what happened?”
“Zarek stabbed her,” I snap. “Zehrael-bane blade.”
Kaide blanches. He presses a hand to her forehead. Heat pulses beneath her skin—magic burning, unraveling, collapsing.
“This is bad,” he whispers. “This is really bad.”
“No,” I growl. “No, she’s going to live. She will live.”
Kaide opens his mouth to say something—something like we don’t know if that’s possible—but he catches the look in my eyes and swallows it.
He switches to soldier mode, ripping a strip of cloth from his armor padding.
“Apply pressure,” Kaide says. “We need to slow the bleeding—”
“I am,” I growl. “It’s not enough.”
Soraya wheezes softly, eyelids fluttering.
Kaide swallows hard, his voice cracking. “Raevan, let me—”
“No.”
Kaide blinks at me.
I stare back, harsh and cold, pressing both hands to her wound. My knees dig into the sand. My whole body curls around her like I can shield her from the world.
“You’re needed at the line,” I say through clenched teeth. “Zehrael and Ashra will break without you.”
“Raevan—this is Soraya—”
“I SAID GO!”
The shout echoes across the battlefield, sharp enough that even the wolves fighting nearby flinch. Kaide freezes, breath catching.
He looks at Soraya—bleeding, limp, slipping away. His eyes shine with something close to grief.
“I don’t want to leave her,” he whispers.
“I know,” I say. “Neither do I.”
We hold each other’s gaze for one long, agonizing second.
Then Kaide rises.
He presses two fingers to Soraya’s forehead—a warrior’s blessing. His voice cracks as he murmurs it.
“Moon watch you, sister.”
And then he turns back to the front lines, sprinting toward the roaring clash of wolves. The moment he joins the formation, Ashra’s defense stabilizes.
I return my attention to Soraya.
Her breathing is getting worse.
“Hey,” I whisper urgently. “Soraya. Soraya, look at me.”
Her eyelids flutter.
“Rae…van…”
Her voice is barely sound.
“I’m—” she breathes shakily “—sorry.”
I feel something inside me break.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” I whisper, forehead pressing against hers. “Don’t you dare.”
Her fingers twitch near my chest, reaching for something she can’t grasp.
I catch her hand and press it against my heart.
“Feel this,” I say, my voice shaking. “Feel my heartbeat. You stay with it. Stay with me.”
Her breath hitches.
She blinks slowly—too slowly.
“Warm…” she whispers. “Your… heart…”
“You’re going to live.” My voice cracks. “You hear me? You’re going to live.”
Blood keeps flowing.
My hands shake harder.
“SORAYA!” I roar, louder than I’ve ever shouted in my life. “OPEN YOUR EYES!”
A shadow falls across us.
Tazir and several Ashra fighters form a protective circle around us, blocking arrows and charging wolves. I barely notice. My entire world is this bleeding girl in my arms.
Soraya’s head lolls again.
Her breath stutters.
Her magic flickers like a dying ember.
“No,” I whisper, voice breaking. “No, don’t leave. Not again. Not like this.”
I pull her closer, my forehead pressed to hers, blood soaking into my chest.
“Stay alive,” I whisper fiercely. “Stay with me. Soraya—please.”
Her lips part.
But no sound comes.
Her body goes slack in my arms.
And I let out a sound I didn’t know I could make—
half snarl, half sob,
the sound of a man losing everything he ever loved.
The battle rages around us. But Soraya grows still.
Bleeding into my hands. Growing cold. And I—
I hold her tighter.
As if I can stop death with my arms alone.