POV: Soraya
The fortress of Ashra rose like a carved mountain from the desert—jagged sandstone towers lit by torchlight, banners fluttering, guards pacing the walls. But the welcome we received was nothing like the night I first arrived.
We passed through the gates at dawn. Pale sunlight streaked the sky, painting everything soft gold. Dust rose from our horses’ hooves as we entered the courtyard.
The moment the guards saw the scouts—
Gasps. Shouts. Relief.
“Captain Harun—he’s alive—!”
“By the moons, they saved them—”
“Soraya Zehrael—she did it—she freed them—”
Scouts stumbled from their horses, embraced by brothers and sisters in arms. Wolves who had carried grief all week now cried openly.
I slid carefully off Raevan’s horse. My legs nearly gave out. Raevan steadied me without a word.
Then I felt it.
Dozens of eyes.
Hundreds, maybe.
Awe. Fear. Confusion. Chaos.
Some whispered blessings when they saw me. Others touched their hearts with trembling hands. A few bowed slightly—as if unsure whether I was savior or curse.
But not all of them welcomed me.
Voices rose behind the crowd—
“She brought Zarek’s wrath here—”
“If she wasn’t born cursed—none of this would’ve happened—”
“She’s the reason we lost wolves last week—”
“Zehrael witch—moon-marked monster—”
Each word stung like a thorn in my ribs.
Raevan growled—a deep warning rumble. The crowd fell half-silent.
Kaide stepped to my side, his presence a shield. “Say another word,” he told one man sharply, “and I’ll escort you personally to the training pits.”
The man backed away.
But the whispers continued—hushed, fearful, poisonous.
She’s trouble.
She’s dangerous.
She’s the reason Saren wants war.
I hugged myself tightly.
Vienne rushed through the crowd and threw her arms around me. “Soraya!” she cried. “Thank the moons—you’re safe—”
Her embrace cracked something in my chest. I sank into her arms, trembling.
Behind us, Raevan dismounted, landing heavily. Blood dried on his jaw. Sweat clung to his skin. He still looked like a man one breath away from ripping the desert apart.
The elders approached—robes billowing, faces tight.
Elder Mazar glared at me. “Soraya Zehrael has endangered Ashra with her reckless actions.”
“It wasn’t reckless,” one scout snapped hoarsely. “She saved our lives.”
Another nodded. “She got us out. Without her, we’d be bones in Zarek’s dungeon.”
The courtyard erupted in argument.
“She’s a threat—”
“She’s a savior—”
“She’ll doom us all—”
“She brought our brothers home—”
“Zehrael blood can’t be trusted—”
“She risked herself for Ashra!”
I flinched.
Vienne squeezed my hand. “Ignore them. They don’t see the truth yet.”
Raevan finally spoke.
“Silence.”
The courtyard obeyed instantly.
His voice thundered through the fortress. “Soraya saved our scouts. She saved your sons. Your brothers. Your future leaders.”
His eyes swept the crowd, glowing dangerously.
“You will NOT speak her name with disrespect ever again.”
Some wolves bowed their heads.
Some looked away.
A few clenched their jaws, resentment still simmering.
But none dared argue.
Raevan stepped closer to me, lowering his voice so only I and Kaide heard.
“You’re home now,” he murmured. “And no one will ever touch you again.”
I swallowed, my heart tightening.
Home. A dangerous but beautiful word. A terrifying one.
Kaide placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Come. You need food. Water. Rest.”
Vienne nodded quickly. “I’ll prepare the healing room.”
As they led me through the fortress corridors, whispers followed us like shadows.
Some of awe. Some of fear. Some of resentment.
But one thing had changed—they were no longer looking at me like I was a stranger.
They were looking at me like someone impossible to ignore. Like someone powerful. Like someone who had shifted the entire desert’s fate.
And maybe… maybe they were right.