Page 122 of The Ninth Element

I turn to Darian, and a small, sad smile touches my lips. There are no words for this, no explanations that could possibly convey the complexity of what I’m feeling, of what I’m choosing.

He looks at me, and I see, in the depths of his stormy blue eyes… understanding. He smiles back, and it’s the saddest, most heartbreaking smile I’ve ever seen. He looks defeated and exhausted as if the weight of the world is etched on his young features.

I remember his wistful words, his dream of riding an endless road with no destination in mind, free from duty and expectation. But that’s not our reality. That’s not our destiny. And then, a poem of a forgotten verse comesto me:

“Somewhere beyond duty and desire, there is a valley. I will meet you there.”

The words spill from my lips, unbidden. And then, without another word, without a backward glance, I turn and walk toward Martyshbod Lirael.

Each step is a nail in the coffin of my past. When I reach her, I meet her gaze like cold steel against flint. “I forfeit my place in the Martyshyar trials.”

“Arien,” her voice is granite, and her eyes hold a power that can terrify Kings. “You are courting ruin. To throw away your birthright, your destiny, for the desolate promise of Firelands… You will be nothing but a low-level sorceress, weak and forgotten!”

“You misunderstand, Martyshbod.” My voice, though quiet, is firm and steady. “I have no intention of returning to Firelands.” I let the silence hang, watching the fury in her eyes curdle into confusion. “I walked here to inform you of my intention to join the cadets for the Martyshgard Order.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Lirael’s face, moments before a thundercloud, is now utterly blank as if her mind refuses to process the sheer stupidity of my words. “Arien! Have you lost your senses? This is beyond foolishness. To squander your talent as a mere cadet when true power within Martyshyar Order is yours for the taking…”

But I don’t let her finish. “According to the Treaty of the Nine, no province can legally prevent its citizens from joining the Martyshgard Order. Martysh is alsorequiredto give everyone a chance as a cadet. I claim that right, Martyshbod. A right you cannot deny me.”

“Why?!” she burst out. “Why this demeaning path? If your aim is simply to remain in Martysh, you have far superior options!”

“Because,” I meet her stunned gaze and feel the unfamiliar sensation of absolute certainty like a shield around me, “no Martysh oath binds me to this path, nor does Firelands have the power to summon me back. I need time. I need space. I need the journey. To find the path that is truly mine before I chain myself to any allegiance for a lifetime.”

Lirael’s expression hardens further. “And if you discover, after all this pointless rebellion, that the only path for youisto be a Martyshyar? Thenyou will have wasted years, only to slave away to gain the seven stars required.”

“I can live with that,” I state, the words resonating with a truth I’ve just unearthed within myself. “If I make my mind to swear the oath of Martysh, I will bear the consequences of my actions without regret.”

A mirthless smile touches Lirael’s lips. “Arien. After years of being deemed unworthy in Firelands, aren’t you finally ready to grasp real power instead of being just another nameless soldier, lost in the ranks?”

“What others think of me does not matter. I want to look into the mirror and see a womanIadmire. A womanIrespect. A woman in control of her own destiny. This is the only path that offers me that.” Before she can formulate another argument, another warning, I press on, “I’d like a chance to fly the Nohvan if you will kindly allow it. I will rip off the band when I reach Martyshyar Kamran. When I lose consciousness, I would appreciate it if you could refrain from removing me from Jahanwatch. But if you do, the moment I wake in the inn, Iwillhike up that mountain again to join the cadets.”

And with that, I pivot and walk toward the Nohvan. My heart pounds a heavy, resolute rhythm against my ribs, and the world around me, the courtyard, Darian, Zanyar, Lirael, everything, fades into a distant, insignificant blur. There is only the path ahead and the unknown future that awaits.

Zanyar told me of his time on the road. Of wandering, searching, seeking himself. I need that time, that space, thatjourney. Not to find someone else, or a phantom, as he did. But to findmyself.

Each step I take towards the majestic creature feels like the only thing that matters. And the step after that. I don’t hear the voice calling my name nor the footsteps rushing toward me. It is only the sudden grip on my arm that snaps me out of my trance. The hand tightens for a moment, then releases.

I turn to see Zanyar sprawled on his back a few paces away. Lirael’s raised hand makes it clear what had happened. She had pushed him away with a flick of her wrist, effortlessly preventing him from interfering.

“I just want to talk to her!” Zanyar roars. His voice is raw with such hatred and anger that is utterly foreign to the revered Ahira of Firelands. In the past few days, I have witnessed a whirlwind of emotions cross his usually stoic face, but this is something else entirely. He looks angry, resentful, and consumed by fear.

“It is all right,” I say to Lirael.

He rises from the ground, dust clinging to his clothes. He takes a deep, shaky breath and attempts to compose himself, then approaches me.

“Arien. What she did… that’s not normal. That’s beyond any sorcery I’ve ever encountered. Emmengar told me they have the life fragment, but I… I think she can wield its power.”

“I know,” I say calmly.

Zanyar’s eyes widen. “She told you? How… how can she?”

The look in his eyes is filled with fear, as if the leash he had kept on himself throughout his life has snapped, shattering the careful facade he usually presents to the world. He swallows hard, and the movement is visible in the line of his throat.

“I don’t… I don’t understand how she can wield that kind of power. But if she wanted you here, in Martysh, this badly, and if Emmengar was so desperate to prevent it…” He shakes his head, lost in a maze of implications. “. . . there must be something—”

“Zanyar,” I interrupt, cutting through his spiraling thoughts, “If you’re looking for answers, you won’t find them here. Ask Emmengar. Instead, let’s part ways in peace.”

He stares at me, his eyes searching mine. “I tried to come talk to you,” he says, his voice raw with grief and regret. “But she had guards posted outside my room. I couldn’t leave until now.” He pauses, his gaze searching mine. “Arien, I—”

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