Prologue - Daughter of the Wild
Sahriya Veyne has never known the softness of silk, the sting of politics, or the sound of her own name spoken with reverence. Only the wild knows her. And it has never asked for her to be anything but free.
Sahiyra POV
I don’t remember the world before the wild.
I don’t remember my father’s face, or the way his voice sounded. Only that he died before I was born. They say he was a Wyrmshard...one of the most powerful beast born that ever lived. And one of the most dangerous. My mother told me his rage grew too heavy, too fast. She tried to calm him, to love him into peace.
But her power wasn’t enough. He went feral and didn’t come back. He died screaming, miles away from the cave where I was born beneath a red moon, wrapped in my mother’s cloak, crying for a man I never met.
And my mother? She loved me fiercely. Like the wind loves the trees...it never stops, even when it breaks them.
She was a Noctira, powerful in her own right. She taught me things most girls will never know. How to hush the panic in a young male’s chest with only my heartbeat. How to hum low, belly deep songs that made even angry beasts lie down and close their eyes. How to listen, not just with ears, but with skin, with bone, with soul.
We didn’t live in a village.
We didn’t register.
We didn’t bond.
We lived on the edge of the great wilds, where only the brave or the broken dared go.
And when I was ten, the wild bit back.
It came in the form of a feral, a true beast, not a shifter. No words. No restraint. Just hunger and claws and death. I watched it rip her apart. I screamed so loud my throat bled. I tried to use my gift. I touched it, sobbed, pleaded.
It didn’t stop.
So I ran.
No food. No shoes. Just blood and dirt and fear.
I don’t know how long I wandered...days, maybe weeks...but when I finally collapsed beneath the twisted root of an old bonebark tree, I remember whispering into the dirt.
“Please… don’t let me die.”
The forest answered.
The alpha direwolf came first. Towering. Silver eyed. His fangs dripped with old blood as he circled me. I was too weak to move, so I just looked at him and said, “I’m not afraid of you.”
He lay down beside me.
Then came the birds. Not small ones. Ravari...feathered hunters the size of wolves. They dropped fish at my feet like tribute. The silverback came next, his roar shaking the moss beneath me. He built me a shelter. No words. Just kindness. Just presence.
And I understood them.
Not just emotionally. Literally.
Their voices weren’t made of sound, but they were still loud. And for the first time in my life… I felt seen.
I belonged to the beasts now.
Nine years passed like water over stone.
I learned to hunt by scent. To fish by whispering to the river. To climb without sound. To soothe broken creatures with my hands and my voice. I was no longer a child. I was a woman now, grown wild in the dark, shaped by claws and wings and thunder.
Sometimes, when I slept, I’d dream of eyes in the sky.
One like molten gold, watching me with fire.
The other, silver and soft, humming with moonlight.
Thoron and Virena....the Twin Veil, the god and goddess of beastkind. They never spoke to me directly, but I could feel them. Their pride. Their presence. Like parents watching from the stars.
I should’ve felt lonely.
But the truth is… I was free.
No bond marks.
No politics.
No spoiled females hoarding mates like toys.
No males growling and snapping over who deserved my touch.
Just peace.
And hunger.
And the breath of the forest against my skin.
Tonight, I had three rabbits strung from my belt, a fresh fish in my satchel, and a warm buzz of satisfaction in my belly. I was walking back toward my den near the ravine when I heard them.
Voices.
Male voices.
Rough. Deep. Laughing. Cursing. Sharp with edge and dominance.
I froze. Sank low. Closed my eyes.
Shifters.
The scent hit me next, sweat, musk, campfire, iron and adrenaline. So much heat. So much need. My skin prickled.
I hadn’t seen a shifter in years. Not since my mother died. And now there were… at least ten? Maybe more? Moving together through the trees like a hunting party.
Curious, I stalked closer.
My bare feet made no sound as I weaved between ferns and roots. I climbed the ridge above their fire, crouched low in the thick underbrush, and stared down into their camp.
They were massive.
Some shirtless, muscles gleaming with sweat, weapons strapped to their backs or hips. Others growling over meat roasting on a spit. One was pacing, clearly irritated. Another leaned against a tree with a haunted look in his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in days.
And their energy… gods, it was thick. Ferality bleeding off them in waves.
Untethered. Hungry. Beautiful.
They didn’t know I was watching.
But I watched them like prey watches the predator.
And maybe… I wasn’t afraid.
“So this is what beast men have become,” I whispered to the trees, lips curling in a soft smile.
“Let’s see if they bite.”