POV: Soraya
The desert looks different after war.
The dunes no longer feel like graves. Instead, they glitter with the soft blue shine of new moon-flowers—plants that haven’t grown in decades. The wind carries laughter from workers mending broken homes. Children run barefoot across newly drawn borders, tracing the path where Saren once ruled through violence and fear.
Now the land is divided. And healing.
Kaide rides ahead with a map unrolled across his saddle, shouting instructions to the group of builders behind him. Tazir walks beside a caravan of supplies, cracking jokes that make even the stiffest warriors smile. Vienne moves through the workers with grace, ensuring food and water find their way into tired hands.
And Raevan walks beside me, our shadows merging against the golden sand.
It feels impossible that only days ago, this same land burned with fire and blood.
Raevan’s voice breaks the silence. “We’ll need to send Zehrael architects to this region,” he says. “Half of Saren collapsed when Zarek fled.”
I inhale slowly. “And Ashra architects for the eastern half.”
He glances at me, warmth flickering in his eyes. “You’re sure you want equal division?”
I nod. “Saren destroyed itself by chasing power. Balance is the only way forward.”
He studies my face for a moment, then looks ahead at the half-rebuilt villages. “You and your balance,” he murmurs.
I smile faintly. “You’re learning.”
We stop atop a hill of pale sand. The wind brushes against us, lifting loose strands of my hair. Below, two armies—now one—work side by side. Wolves from Ashra carry beams of sun-dried wood. Wolves from Zehrael raise shimmering shields to block the heat, cooling the builders beneath.
It is the first time in centuries the two nations work together without fear.
I exhale. “This is what my mother always dreamed of.”
Raevan’s hand brushes mine. “And what you made possible.”
A soft ache settles in my chest at the thought of her—Lysara’s voice in my visions, her strength guiding me through darkness.
I whisper, “I hope she sees this.”
“I’m certain she does.”
We continue walking, inspecting the progress of the reforms. Warriors bow as we pass. Healers pause and smile. Even children chase after us until Vienne shoos them off with a gentle warning about construction hazards.
Kaide joins us, dust smeared across his cheek. “The new borders are ready for marking,” he reports. “Zehrael will take the northern half. Ashra, the southern.”
Raevan nods approvingly. “Good. And the people?”
Kaide glances downhill. “Relieved. A little confused. But relieved.”
His eyes slide to me. “They’re starting to believe peace is possible.”
My throat tightens with emotion. “Good. That’s all I ever wanted.”
Kaide nudges me lightly with his elbow. “And you did it.”
Behind him, Tazir jogs up waving parchment. “Vienne says the supplies will run out by sunset,” he announces. “She wants Raevan to stop hogging all the workers.”
Raevan lifts an eyebrow. “I’m ‘hogging’ them?”
Tazir hands him the parchment, utterly unbothered. “That’s what she said. And she looked very serious.”
Vienne approaches from behind him, arms crossed. “Because I was serious.”
Raevan sighs dramatically. “If I surrender my workers, will that appease you?”
Vienne narrows her eyes. “You have two choices: surrender the workers or face my wrath.”
Tazir leans toward me and whispers loudly, “Pick the workers. Trust me.”
I snort, unable to help myself.
Raevan raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. They’re yours.”
Vienne nods and turns on her heel, utterly satisfied as she leads the workers away.
Tazir watches her go with a lovestruck grin.
Kaide chuckles under his breath. “These are our leaders now,” he mutters.
I breathe the desert air deeply, letting their familiar banter settle the last threads of tension inside me.
Raevan’s voice softens. “Come. There’s something I want you to see.”
He leads me toward a ridge overlooking the far horizon. From here, the sand stretches endlessly—except now, a large stone arch rises in the distance.
My breath catches. It’s half dark stone, half pale quartz. Half Ashra. Half Zehrael.
I step closer. “You built this?”
Raevan nods. “During the night, while you were recovering. I wanted something… permanent. A symbol that will outlive us.”
My fingers graze the carved markings—Zehrael sigils interwoven with Ashra runes.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
His hand settles at the small of my back. “It marks the border. No walls. No guards. Just a promise.”
“A promise of peace,” I murmur.
“Of unity,” he corrects gently.
A breeze stirs between us.
Below, Vienne and Tazir distribute food. Kaide directs the placement of new pillars. Wolves of every nation move with purpose, their shoulders no longer weighed down by fear.
This is what we fought for.
This is what we bled for.
I swallow hard. “We did it,” I whisper.
Raevan’s voice is quiet. “No. You did.”
I turn to face him.
His gaze softens. “You united us. You saved us. You reshaped the desert itself.”
Emotion rises so sharply I press a hand to my chest.
Raevan cups my cheek gently. “You rebuilt the desert, Soraya. And now we rebuild the future—together.”
I lean into his hand, feeling warmth spread through me.
The sun crests fully over the dunes, lighting the archway in a blaze of gold.
A new world rises with it.
A world for Ashra. For Zehrael. For all desert wolves. For peace.
And I walk into that world hand in hand with the man who once tore me apart and now holds me together. The desert begins healing. And so do we.