Page 62 of The Ninth Element

“Arien, if this is a threat to us all,” Faelas says, clearly undeterred, “you also need to know the truth before you pledge your allegiance. This is not just a day or two; this is the rest of your life. Once you’re bound by oath, there’s no going back. You seem to loathe the confinement of Firelands. You might find yourself a prisoner of your own making this time if you walk into this blindly.”

Now, he sounds like Zanyar. Doubt gnaws at my insides. I can’t fathom that Martysh is betraying their oath. But what if? What if they are not the heroes I believed them to be? What if, as Faelas suspects, they’re too cowardly to do the right thing? To help the people who desperately need help in Izadeon?

Bahador, noticing my unsettled expression, says softly, “Don’t worry, Arien. We won’t pressure you. Think on it.”

Faelas, however, is relentless. “We need you, Arien. Your sorcery, your mind. This is a fight for Izadeon’s survival. And you have a debt to repay.”

Bahador’s head snaps up at that. “Faelas, that’s enough!”

“Allies help each other,” Faelas says, ignoring his friend. “It’s a two-way relationship.”

“Faelas, you’ve made your case,” Darian says firmly. “Now it’s her turn to think things through and decide what’s best for her.”

His tone silences Faelas instantly. It’s a side of Darian I haven’t seen before, a commanding presence that demands respect. He turns to me, his expression softening.

“Arien, you’ve heard our plan. It’s risky, but the truth hidden behind those doors is crucial. I agree with Faelas that you should know it, too, before committing your life to Martysh. However, that doesn’t matter if you disagree. If you join us, I vow to protect you. Ultimately, the decision is yours. Think it through, find your peace, and we’ll await your answer.”

As silence envelopes us, Faelas’s words echo in my mind. ThisStar, whatever it is, is clearly a secret Martysh has kept secret from the continent to the point that even Firelands is turning against them. Are they only afraid of others discovering some hidden power, or are more sinister games atplay?

And then, a chilling realization dawns on me: if the Izadeonians are caught and expelled while trying to breach the Martyshyar wing, I will be left alone, without allies. But I won’t just lose my allies in this game; I will lose my—a strange word form in my mind—myfriends.

Chapter Twenty

Purple and green…

That’s all I see when my eyes flutter open. A dull ache pounds in my head like a steady drumbeat. As my vision clears, I take in the deep purple sky and the silhouettes of mountains rising through the clouds.

A cold, wet chill seeps through my body. I am lying on a bed of soft moss, and the smell of pine and wet stone fills my senses. Somewhere close by, a river roars like a wild beast.

Panic hits me like a ton of bricks as I wonder where I am or how I got here, but I’m too weak to rise. I reflect on the last memories I have, trying to remember what happened to me.

I was in my quarters, waiting for the night to deepen. I was supposed to meet the Izadeonians in the southern ward soon. We were supposed to break into the Martyshyar wing. My stomach was churning with nerves from the thought of risking another break-in.

And then, nothing…

Those last memories are from the dead of night, and now it is dusk. If this is the following sunset, I’ve been unconscious for just shy of a day.

This must be the fourth trial.

I look around, and my heart skips a beat when I see Darian lying several steps away from me, sprawled out on the ground like a discarded rag doll. My whole body shaking, I crawl toward him.

It must have been sorcery that knocked us out, but Darian’s pale skin, motionless body, and labored breathing hint at something more sinister—poison or perhaps a dark spell.

He is breathing—thank the gods for that. But he looks like his life hangs by a thread. His skin feels like ice, and his breath is shallow. I huddle close, hoping to impart some of my warmth and search his body frantically.

After a few seemingly long moments, I finally find it: two small red dots on his forearm. Fangs. A snake, most likely a water snake, considering we are near the river. It must have struck him while we were unconscious.

The night is closing in, and the forest creaks and whispers around us, undoubtedly filled with even more sinister creatures that can kill us. But I can’t focus on that right now. All that matters is the fading flicker of life on Darian’s face.

I reach for the worn pouch at my waist, grateful that they did not strip us of our belongings like they did in the arena. Inside, I have a jumble of herbs, dry food, the potions Zanyar gave me, and a few of my own that I crafted in Jahanwatch.

I take out a potion I made just a few days ago using ingredients I bought in Shemiran. Thank the gods I didn’t delay brewing it when we returned, especially since I had been so distracted searching the library for information about the Star. The book from Madrisa claimed it could draw out poisons—now it’s time to put that theory to the test.

Praying to the gods, I press the vial to Darian’s lips and tilt his head back to pour it into his mouth. My heart pounds wildly as nothing happens for a few agonizingly long moments before his body starts to convulse, and a violent tremor shakes him. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the seizure stops.

I watch him intently, my shaking hands betraying my terror. His skin is still pale, but his breathing appears steadier—though perhaps I am just imagining it. Still, a hint of relief sparks in my heart, but I know that our ordeal is far from over. We are alone, injured, and lost in a dangerous, unfamiliar world.

As I survey my surroundings, I notice a piece of leather parchmentwrapped around a rock near where I was lying. Rushing over, I quickly unwrap the thin leather.

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