POV: Soraya
Darkness folds around me like a heavy veil. It doesn’t have weight—not on my skin, not on my body—but on my soul. And somewhere beyond that darkness, I hear battle. Wolves. Steel. Someone screaming my name. Someone crying.
Raevan?
A faint echo, distant and fading, like the final note of a song.
I want to reach for it, but my limbs don’t move. My breath doesn’t feel like breath. My chest doesn’t rise. The pain in my side is gone, replaced by this… hollow floating.
Then a whisper cuts through the void.
“Little moon.”
My eyes snap open—but I’m not on the sands anymore.
I stand barefoot on shimmering white dunes under a silver sky, stars bending into constellations I’ve never seen. Everything feels ancient. Sacred. Warm.
And she is there.
My mother.
Lysara.
Her long dark hair flows like a river of night, her eyes glowing silver-gold. She looks exactly as I remember—except brighter, stronger, more alive than life.
“Mother…” My voice breaks. “Is… is this death?”
She smiles softly, walking toward me across the glowing sand.
“If you were dead,” she says, touching my face, “I would not look like this. I would be weeping.”
I choke on a sound between a laugh and a sob. She pulls me into her arms—warm, familiar, safe. The scent of desert jasmine wraps around me.
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper. “So much.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “And I never left you. Not for a moment.”
I grip her tightly, terrified she’ll fade. But she doesn’t. She feels real. Solid.
“Mother… I failed.” The confession tumbles out like blood from a wound. “Baltimus died. Zehrael is threatened. Raevan almost died. I— I couldn’t stop any of it.”
She pulls back, cupping my cheeks.
“My daughter,” she says gently, “you were never meant to stop pain. You were meant to end the cycle that causes it.”
The dunes around us shift—images rising from the sand like smoke.
Zehrael wolves slaughtered.
Children taken by Saren. Ashra wars. Generations of blood in the dunes.
Lysara lifts her hand, and the visions swirl away.
“This land,” she whispers, “has suffered for centuries. Leaders who value cruelty. Alphas who rule with fear. Men like Zarek who take what they desire, believing power belongs only to those who can spill the most blood.”
Her eyes lock onto mine—piercing, luminous.
“But then came you.”
A strange warmth pulses in my chest.
“Me?” I whisper. “I was born powerless. I grew up a servant. A captive. A—”
“A survivor,” she says sharply. “A girl who grew into a woman without bitterness. A Zehrael who lived among wolves without losing her heart. A leader born in the shadows who still chose kindness.”
My breath trembles.
“Mother… I don’t feel strong. Not anymore.”
“You don’t need to feel strong,” she says. “You are strong. Stronger than any Zehrael before you. Stronger than me.”
Her hands settle over my heart, warm and glowing.
“This is why Zarek hunted you,” she says. “Why the desert itself bends to your presence. Why Raevan rises and falls with your breath.”
I flinch at his name.
She smiles knowingly. “Yes, little moon. Even that is part of your destiny.”
A soft wind wraps around us, filled with whispers of energy—silver, ancient, powerful.
“You are the key,” she continues. “The balance between Zehrael, Ashra, and Saren. The one who can end the blood feuds. The one who can turn fear into peace.”
The wind sharpens into a gust, circling us.
“You have felt your magic. The healing. The light. The wolf that terrifies even seasoned warriors.”
My wolf flickers behind my eyelids—silver eyes, enormous, ethereal.
“But you have not unlocked your final form. Not until now.”
Her fingers slide from my cheeks to my hands, intertwining them with hers.
“You are between life and death in the waking world,” she whispers. “Raevan is holding you—begging you to return. He has never prayed to anything until today.”
A tear slips down my cheek.
“You must wake,” she says. “You must finish what I could not. You must choose life.”
The stars overhead begin spinning, forming a vortex of silver fire. It descends slowly, spiraling toward us like a crown.
“What is that?” I whisper.
“Your birthright,” she answers. “Your final power.”
The crown lowers until it rests exactly over my heart. Light floods my body—warm, brilliant, overwhelming. I gasp. My knees nearly buckle.
“Mother—!”
She holds me steady.
“Do not fear it,” she says softly. “This power will not consume you, but it will demand everything from you. Use it wisely. Use it with purpose. Use it to protect, not destroy.”
The power surges again—so bright the dunes vanish. The stars go white. The sky fractures into light.
My mother’s voice echoes through the blinding brilliance
“Wake up, Soraya. The desert needs you.”
The world explodes.
***
I gasp—ragged, violent—like breaking the surface of deep water.
Heat floods into my lungs.
Light pulses from my chest.
I jolt upright—and strong arms instantly catch me.
“Soraya!” Raevan’s voice cracks with disbelief, grief, relief all tangled into one. “Gods—Soraya—look at me—look at me—”
My eyes fly open.
The battlefield lies around us in brutal chaos. The sand is soaked in blood. Wolves clash in the distance. Kaide and Tazir are fighting like demons forged in the dunes.
And Raevan is kneeling next to me, face broken open with emotion I’ve never seen before.
My breath trembles.
“I saw her,” I whisper. “My mother.”
Raevan stares at me—wide-eyed.
“She said I wasn’t done.”
My heartbeat flares—bright, powerful, steady.
Silver energy ripples under my skin, and Raevan recoils in awe.
“What… what is this?” he whispers.
I rise slowly, the pain gone, my pulse strong.
“My power,” I say quietly. “All of it.”
Raevan stands with me, never taking his eyes off my face.
“Soraya…” He swallows hard. “You’re glowing.”
I am. And I’m not afraid anymore.