Page 28 of The Ninth Element

“Working in pairs,” Martyshyar Kamran continues, “your mission is to find a specific artifact. You’ll recognize it when you see it. Place the prize on that table by midnight,” he points to a long table on the right side of the courtyard, “and you shall pass. At that point, you’re not allowed to engage with those still in the competition. Failure to return by the watching hour, or returning empty-handed or without your companion, and you will find yourselves waking in the valley come sunrise. Supposing you are alive, of course. The sooner you arrive, the higher your rank. The trial begins now.”

The courtyard erupts into a chaotic frenzy as people scramble in different directions. Some sprint toward the surrounding keeps, while others dash to the various wards. The Izadeonians stand firm, refusing to succumb to the chaos as their eyes move between Darian, Bahador, and Faelas, their obvious leaders.

“Let’s divide and conquer,” Faelas suggests, his brow furrowed slightly. “The more ground we cover, the better our chances of finding this artifact.”

“There are three wards to cover,” Bahador states in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.

Faelas nods, pointing a finger for emphasis. “And several watchtowers in between.”

“I will search the main keep with Arien,” Darian declares, gesturing toward the imposing structure that dominates the inner courtyard.

“The library and kitchens are ours,” Faelas chimes in, assigning roles with military precision. “Varidas and Hamzen, you take the northern ward. Umleer and Jaimar, the southern ward is yours. Cyrias and Corvis, explore the watchtowers.”

The plan is clear, efficient.

“Whoever finds their artifact blows the whistle,” Darian says. “We will regroup here and share our findings before placing the artifact on that table.”

Everyone nods in agreement as Darian and I run toward the main keep. We breeze through the massive oak doors without any guards stopping us, feeling like we own the place.

Corridors spread in every direction, with shadowy doorways lurking around every corner. This place has more twists and turns than my father’s love life. We could spend a lifetime exploring every nook and cranny and probably still miss the secret room where they hide the sweets.

“I’ll take the left. You take the right,” Darian barks as he dives headfirst into the nearest room. “It has to be something obvious. Don’t waste time searching every hole in the wall.”

But he doesn’t know. He can’t know. The object could be anything from a speck of dust hidden in a crack to a massive, glowing orb sitting in plain sight. All we were told was that we would recognize it when we see it.

I push open the first door, revealing a huge chamber filled with chests, towering bookshelves, and overflowing closets. With careful precision, I open every chest, sift through every paper and parchment, inspect every drawer, and scrutinize every piece of furniture. No corner goes unchecked.

By the time I’m finished, I feel like I’ve aged a decade. This keep is a labyrinth, and even with our divide-and-conquer approach, I’m starting to think there’s little chance we’ll find the artifact this way, especially with the time limit.

I tear through the second room, but my mind lingers on the last one. Did I miss something in there, buried under a mountain of forgotten documents? There is no time to dwell on that now; the sand is slipping through the hourglass.

As I move to the next, even larger chamber, a sense of dread begins to grow inside me. With each room, the fear of failure becomes stronger. What if I’ve already passed the object hidden in a secret hole? I force myself to stay focused, holding on to the hope that perhaps someone else will find their artifact and their method of discovery will ultimately lead to oursalvation.

Room after room blurs together like a collection of wasted time. The layout of the keep seems to mock me, and doubt creeps in like a cold draft. By the time I finish searching the left side of the ground floor, I’m exhausted. I have no idea how long we’ve been searching, but we can’t be far from midnight now.

Darian’s noisy rummaging echoes from above. As I ascend the stairs, I’m greeted by another seemingly endless hallway of doors. There are six floors in this keep alone, apart from its watchtowers and battlements. Panic begins to nibble at the edges of my composure. Can this truly be the test? Is mindlessly rummaging through drawers the key to becoming a Martyshyar? It feels utterly random and illogical to me, pointless even.

Pushing open the door where I heard Darian, I find him in the midst of his unorthodox search. Unlike my methodical exploration, Darian is rifling through drawers, their contents spilling onto the floor in a chaotic mess.

“This can’t be it,” I blurt out. “There has to be something we’re missing!”

Darian spares me a quick glance, his hands still working with the intensity of a man possessed. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“These trials are meant to test our skills. Searching every hole isn’t exactly a noble skill.”

“Agreed,” he concedes with a grunt. “I’ve been racking my brain this whole time but haven’t come up with another idea yet. At least I’m not standing still.”

I cast my mind back to Martyshyar Kamran’s instructions.Time until midnight.We’llknow the object when we see it. That was all he said. Unlike the first challenge, there are no riddles in his words, no cryptic hints.

But have the last nine days provided any clues? I sift through my memories, replaying my explorations of the fortress in search of a spark of recognition. Jahanwatch, however, is a treasure trove of oddities—every corner is crammed with peculiar artifacts and hidden passageways. Nothing specific stands out to me.

Nine days of observations, explorations, and reading. I mentally retrace my steps, revisiting every unlocked room I explored in the castle, from thestorerooms holding forgotten sabers to the giant infirmary, the library, and the alchemy rooms.

My mind races as I mentally flip through the books I devoured in the library. The trials barely received any attention, and then, suddenly, a spark is ignited in my mind. I almost let out a strangled cry before catching myself.

“There was something!” I finally manage to say, stopping Darian’s mid-drawer-toss. “In the library. One of the books had a peculiar sentence. It’s what Martyshbod Lirael said on the first night.Each trial gives you an advantage for the next.”

Darian’s foot taps impatiently on the floor, but he is paying attention. “She meant we get the advantage of moving on to the next round.”

---