SapphirePeter


Winters upon winters have drifted by, and still, the North remains without its destined sovereign. One by one, pretenders have fallen, claimed by the death that guards the empty throne. 
As despair consumes the realm - people dying, their purpose withering - a whispered prophecy stirs the ashes — the one they seek walks among the South.

While the Heavens remain without the offer of an heir to the North, a Southern Princess drinks to excess at a Royal Event and exposes royal rot.
She is ordered to be killed, steel drawn... when a certain Prince Commander claims her to be his wife.
Marriage was never her fate. Certainly not to him,  but desperation writes its own vows. There were no promises, no expectations, but love came, slow and certain. 
It seemed the sun had broken through the clouds, but something superiorly vital is then taken from this Princess, and she is sent to the worst of dungeons when her husband is at war. He returns, thinking she left him, and he falls into the deepest of despair.


The Princess’s heart is heavily marked in this strange new world where unfamiliar souls shape her. They teach her, harden her, and rebirth her into something nearly unrecognizable.
She flees with them as a circumstance exposes her to be the ruler they have been in search of.
Through hardship and pain, she ascends—not only to lead the North but to stir the balance of the universe itself.
But at what price? What must be given?
Follow her odyssey - a journey of life, of love, betrayal, revenge, of war and transformation, and of staggering power that shakes worlds.
Her name is Nadezhda. 
Nadezhda means hope. She is our hope.




QUEEN OF THE NORTH (THE WILL OF THE HEAVENS)

I am not a queen because I rule, I rule because I am THE QUEEN. 


Birthed in my heart. Alive in my veins…. 


Zorgan awoke with a jolted start, a hand pressed tightly above his heart and a name frightfully escaped his lips like a plea; ‘‘Nadezhda.’’ 


The vision from his sleep still clung to him- a sorrowful form of her weeping in the depths of some forgotten woodland, her voice echoing through the trees. 


At once he rose from the furs, throwing a loose shirt over his head. 


The time for waiting had long passed and the reason he had lingered in this location was because he was awaiting a raven’s return, hoping for word from her. 


He had sent the message a few days ago, and nothing had returned to him. If they broke camp now and the bird should return, he would not be here to receive it. 


As he strode from his tented shelter, the flap falling behind him, he almost collided with a soldier who posted himself right outside. 


DRENA