POV: Soraya
The crystal’s afterglow still pulsed faintly on the table long after Zarek left, but I refused to look at it again. My mother’s voice haunted me—tender, powerful, aching with love—but I wouldn’t let Zarek use her against me. Not anymore.
I wiped my face, stood, and paced the golden cage he’d locked me inside. The silk curtains billowed with the desert night breeze, carrying the distant sound of metal on stone—chains. The scouts. My stomach knotted.
They’re alive. He said they’re alive only because of me.
He was holding them hostage to keep me compliant.
Not anymore.
I pressed my palms against the warm sandstone wall. The palace around me felt like a living beast—breathing, shifting, watching. Somewhere below, beneath layers of stone and polished marble, the scouts waited in darkness.
My pulse quickened.
Zarek believed he’d broken me.
He believed a single vision would chain me to him.
He didn’t know what Zehrael blood could do.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe slowly. The teachings Vienne whispered during moon meditations ran through my mind—find the pulse beneath your skin, the quiet voice that hums like desert air.
I reached for the part of me I’d always feared: the raw surge of power, the moon-marked blaze Raevan had witnessed but never understood.
It answered. A spark. A flicker.
A flare of silver light behind my eyelids.
My palms glowed first—dimly, then brighter, until the room shimmered in reflected light. I didn’t know how to control it. I didn’t know if I would break the palace or myself. But the scouts were dying, and I couldn’t wait for Raevan.
I touched the wall.
The sandstone rippled like water.
A gasp tore from my throat.
The surface melted beneath my palms, parting into a doorway of crumbling dust. Warm air rushed through, carrying the scent of torches and sweat and damp stone. The prison tunnels.
I slipped through before the wall could solidify again.
The corridor was narrow, lit by weak torches that flickered against uneven stone. I moved silently, barefoot, my heart pounding. Every few steps, I felt a faint tug toward the scouts—a mental pull, almost instinctive, as if my blood knew where to go.
I descended a spiraling staircase. Voices echoed faintly. Groans. Coughs. Chains pulling tight.
Finally, I reached a massive iron gate.
Behind it—
The Ashra scouts.
Six of them, chained to pillars, bruised and half-conscious. Their eyes widened when they saw me.
“Lady Soraya?” one whispered hoarsely. “You—how—?”
“No time,” I breathed. “I’m getting you out.”
They exchanged looks of disbelief.
No one rescued anyone from Zarek’s palace.
I approached the chains. Heavy iron, engraved with rune marks meant to suppress wolf strength. Brutal, cruel.
“Step back,” I whispered.
They shuffled as far as their bindings allowed.
I pressed both hands to the first chain. Silver light sparked from my fingertips—weak at first, then growing, melting into a bright flare. Heat surged through my arms; the glow felt alive, a pulse that matched the panicked rhythm of my heart.
The chain hissed. Cracked. Shattered. The scout collapsed, rubbing his raw wrists, staring at me like I was a goddess or a ghost.
“How—?” he whispered.
“Get the others up,” I commanded. “We need to move.”
I moved quickly from chain to chain. Each time, the power flared hotter, harder. Sweat slid down my spine. My vision blurred around the edges. But one by one, the bindings fell.
The last scout—a young boy barely older than me—whispered, trembling, “Zarek will kill us for this.”
“Only if he catches us,” I said. “And he won’t.”
Because Raevan was coming.
Because my telepathic message had reached him—broken, but enough.
Because the dread wolf would rip apart the desert before letting Zarek keep me.
But right now, I had to lead these men out alive.
We crept down the hallway.
Torches hissed. Footsteps echoed.
My heartbeat thundered so loudly I feared the guards would hear it first.
I whispered, “Stay behind me. If anything happens—run to the eastern dunes. Raevan will find you.”
They nodded. Halfway down the corridor, shadows moved. Guards. Two at first. Then four more turning the corner. Their armor clinked softly, but the sound cut through the tunnel like a blade.
“Prisoners!” one shouted. “Raise the alarm!”
There was no time.
I grabbed the nearest scout and shoved him behind me. The guards surged forward.
My vision flooded with silver.
Power erupted through my veins like moonfire. My hands lifted instinctively—and the tunnel walls shook.
Light burst from my palms in a blinding wave.
The nearest guards were thrown backward as if the air itself had become a storm. Their bodies hit the walls with sickening thuds, helmets cracking. Torches sputtered out.
Silence.
My chest heaved.
The scouts stared at me in terror and awe.
“What…are you?” one whispered.
I swallowed hard. “Something Zarek fears.”
We ran.
The palace shook under distant footsteps—more guards responding to the alarm. Shouts rose from every direction. I led the scouts down twisting hallways, following the instinctive tug of my blood toward the exit.
We reached a servant passageway. A narrow opening with faint moonlight shining from above.
“Up,” I ordered.
I cupped my hands, boosting the weakest scout. The others climbed quickly. Soon only I remained at the bottom of the shaft.
Below, shouts grew louder.
I grabbed the rope and pulled myself upward. My arms trembled. My body ached from the power I’d used. But desperation was stronger. I climbed fast, breath burning my throat.
A hand reached down—one of the scouts.
“Take my hand!”
I grasped it. They yanked me up and over the ledge just as the guards burst into the tunnel below.
Moonlight washed over us.
Cold air whipped my hair around my face. The desert stretched before us—silver dunes glowing under the night sky. Freedom.
But as we took our first steps away from the palace, something changed.
My skin prickled. My breath hitched. My body—shifted. Not fully. Not painlessly.
But I felt my bones strain, my blood heat, my vision sharpen.
“Lady Soraya?” a scout whispered fearfully.
I staggered. My hands hit the sand, claws forming at my fingertips. My teeth sharpened. My vision turned predatory.
No.
Not now.
My wolf surged inside me—wild, powerful, uncontrollable.
But I forced myself to stay upright. Forced myself to breathe. Forced myself to cling to the last threads of humanity.
“We need to run,” I rasped. “Now.”
And with the scouts surrounding me, we disappeared into the dunes—heading toward Ashra, toward Raevan, toward war.