Chapter One: Sand and Shadows

  Evanora’s POV

  The sun blistered overhead, devouring the last drops of life from my cracked lips and parched body.

  I collapsed onto the scorching desert sand, vision darkening at the edges. Days of wandering—starving, dehydrated, delirious—had stripped me bare. My canteen was empty. My skin is scorched raw. My stomach clawed inward like a beast turning on itself.

  The sand ghouls had begun to circle. Pale figures with hollow eyes, waiting for me to die. So they eat my corpse.

  But fate, it seemed, wasn’t finished with me yet.

  The world tilted and swallowed me whole.

  ----

  A voice pierced the heat—low, clear, and oddly gentle.

  “Hello? Wake up. Don’t worry. You’re safe.”

  ?A firm tap followed the words, snapping me back to reality like a thread pulled taut. I forced my eyes to open.

  ?Amber eyes met mine: sharp, alert, unreadable. The stranger loomed above me, framed in a glow of golden light. The sands were gone. I was in a room.

  ?The realization was visceral. He smelled of the deep desert—earth, stone, and sun. No perfume. No iron. No rot. Heavy gold bands gripped his forearms, symbols of power and coin alike. This wasn't a man of spells; this was a man of war. He moved with a predator's lethargy, and he bore none of the scents of my kind.

  Not vampire.

  Not human.

  Beautiful, I noted distantly. A bad habit—recognizing beauty, even while half-dead.

  And that, I knew, was always the first warning sign.

  He crouched beside me, gaze steady. A canteen was offered—half-full. The sun-warmed water reached me before I even moved.

  I hesitated. Then drank. Slowly. Carefully.

  The silence between us wasn’t awkward. It was Measured. As if he was giving me space to recover… just enough to start asking the right questions.

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  So I did what I always did first.

  I observed.

  The room was carved from rock—primitive but efficient. Smooth sandstone walls, timber-beamed ceiling, light filtering through narrow slits. A candle burned beside the bed roll I lay on. No sigils. No runes. Just stone. The door was solid wood, bolted from the outside.

  Unsettling.

  “Where am I?” I rasped.

  He gave a small smile—tight, unreadable. “Somewhere safe. For now.”

  There was something final in that for now.

  As he turned, I caught the faint silver ink at his wrist—a full moon with a howling wolves . and a sigil in Wolves language .

  Pack mark.

  My throat tightened.

  Not just a werewolf. A ranked one.

  “I’m Kaden,” he said at the door. “Beta of the East god Pack.”

  Beta.

  East god.

  I kept my face blank.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said. “I’m… Faith.”

  “Liliana?”

  I blinked.

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t catch that.”

  “We know you’re Lady Liliana of the Eastwood Pack. Alpha Vuk’s daughter.”

  “You’re mistaken.”

  He didn’t argue. Just nodded, slow and quiet, letting the lie hang between us.

  “We’ll talk more when you’ve eaten,” he said, and closed the door behind him.

  The heavy click echoed through the silence.

  So.

  Werewolf territory.

  Captured. Alive.

  Identified… incorrectly.

  They didn’t know who I was. Not yet.

  Not the real me.

  A vampire

  Devourix blood.

  Fallen royal.

  Supposedly dead.

  The cot was rough. The guards were sloppy. But I needed rest. In shadow, in silence.

  I waited.

  ---

  Later

  The next time the door opened, it wasn’t Kaden.

  A larger wolf entered—bulkier, broader. Older.

  His armor was worn but sharp—functional. A scar cut across one brow. His dull brown eyes didn’t search. They assessed.

  Two guards followed.

  “On your feet,” he ordered.

  I rose. Slowly. Deliberately.

  No names were given. I didn’t ask.

  They led me down a narrow sandstone corridor. Claw marks etched the walls. The air was heavy, close, like it wanted to suffocate.

  A chamber waited at the end. Low ceiling. One rune-lit glow above. One exit.

  Interrogation.

  He pointed to a chair bolted to the floor.

  I sat.

  He paced. Once. Twice. Then stopped.

  “You were found a mile from the East god border. No weapons. No markings. Unconscious for three days. Want to explain?”

  “Sunstroke,” I said flatly. “Or maybe I just enjoy fainting near wolves.”

  His nostrils flared.

  “You’re not registered. You’re too calm to be a rogue.”

  “Maybe I’m just polite.”

  He studied me. “What’s your name?”

  “Faith.”

  “Our Beta thinks you’re lying.”

  “Then maybe he should ask me himself.”

  A flicker of irritation. “He’s got better things to do.”

  He circled.

  “You’re finally trained,” he said. “You sit like a soldier. You watch like one. But you don’t smell like us.”

  “You’re flattering me.”

  “I don’t flatter strangers. Especially not ones found half-dead in restricted territory.”

  He leaned in.

  “So I’ll ask again. Who. Are. You?”

  I let the silence stretch.

  Then: “A mistake.”

  He blinked.

  “Yours,” I added. “Because you’re asking questions you don’t know how to finish.”

  The air snapped.

  The door opened behind him.

  Kaden stepped in.

  “Enough,” he said coolly. “I can handle this”

  “She’s a liar.”

  “I could see that.”

  The wolf left, reluctantly.

  Kaden waited.

  “You were impressive,” he said softly.

  “Always” I replied.

  He smiled—barely.

  “I’m not your enemy. But I do need to know one thing.”

  He stepped closer.

  “Why didn’t you run, when you could?”

  I tilted my head.

  “I don't run.”

  Why would I? Where to? I'm not the rogue they think I am.

  I know how interrogation works.

  And I know how long I can keep playing Faith.