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The eight-pointed Star is a powerful symbol representing the Faith of the Nine Sisters.

According to the followers of the Faith, the world was created from primordial chaos by nine holy sisters who descended from the heavens.

Eight of these sisters harnessed the fundamental elements—fire, earth, air, water, nature, life, light, and sound—using them to shape the lands, seas, trees, creatures, and mankind.

The ninth sister, a being of ethereal purity, bestowed the gift of the soul solely upon mortal men.

This soul is considered the ninth element by the Faith, representing the intangible essence of humanity.

The eight-pointed Star is formed by eight diamonds touching at the center, with each diamond symbolizing one of the eight elements created by the holy sisters.

The absence of a ninth piece in the Star signifies the soul’s mysterious nature, veiled from mortal eyes.

I trace the worn script of the History of the Asyrion Continent for what feels like the thousandth time, wondering if I’m developing an unhealthy attachment to reading things over and over again.

But this eight-pointed Star, the symbol of the old Faith, is the only celestial body of note I can think of when the word Star comes to mind.

A myth. Surely, it has nothing to do with the Star that was whispered by the Martyshfolks in that tavern. But my mind, in its infinite wisdom, keeps circling back to it like a moth to a dying flame.

Seven days. It’s been seven days since the third trial, and I’ve barely left this library.

Sleep? Who needs it? I’ve been on a mission, scouring every book I can get my hands on for any mention of the Star , this mythical being with the power to bend the elements.

My focus on Martysh and winning has faded.

Now, I want to know more about why Firelands, Martysh, and Daevas are fighting over this Star.

But, if I’m being honest, I also want to gather information about the Star for the Izadeonians. After Bernold’s name was mentioned, they’ve been walking around like they’ve seen a ghost. Distracted, lost in thought, and even a little scared.

I wonder what’s going on in those heads of theirs.

Are they worried that some powerful artifact is out there, something that might be related to Bernold’s and Faelas’s father’s deaths?

Whatever it is, it feels like they’re trying to solve a riddle, and I’m just trying to keep up.

To help. To be included in their mission.

But also, the thought of something that powerful out there that even Daevas risk coming out of their hiding… it’s unnerving.

“You’re not still stuck on that eight-pointed Star of the Faith, are you?” Faelas’s voice, filled with its familiar dry amusement, slices through the muddle of my thoughts.

He plops into the chair opposite me, his tall figure somehow dwarfed by the sheer volume of parchment and leather on the table, threatening to engulf us both.

I casually shrug, trying to play it cool. “Just refreshing my memory.”

One of his pale eyebrows arches, and that tell-tale hint of skepticism dances in his pale blue eyes. “I was under the impression your memory was flawless when it came to scrolls and scripture.”

I roll my eyes and concede. “All right. I admit. This eight-pointed Star of the Faith has burrowed into my brain like a persistent woodworm, and I can’t seem to dislodge it. Besides, what other S tars do we know?”

“Only the several thousand scattered across the celestial tapestry each night,” he drawls, the corner of his mouth twitching .

I shoot him an unamused look. “Witty, but I doubt Martyshfolks are searching for any of those.”

“Agreed. About as likely as them searching for the Star of the Faith,” he deadpans, his smugness practically radiating off him.

“Yes, yes,” I grumble, feeling the weight of days of fruitless research in my mind.

“But it’s more than just the same names.

The similarities are too pronounced to ignore.

Each piece of the Star of Faith symbolizes one of the elements of creation.

Think about how they referred to the fragments of this Star, the one everyone is chasing.

The piece suspected to be in the Gajari sands, they called it the light fragment.

They mentioned a sound fragment in Maravan, and an earth fragment in your Izadeon that apparently Bernold knew about before his death.

We don’t know the total number of pieces, but light, sound, earth…

those are fundamental elements, just like in the Faith’s teachings. ”

Faelas leans back with a sigh, “Except, whatever they’re hunting is a tangible artifact, something real you can hold.

The Star of the Faith is a concept , a symbol embedded in the creation story.

It’s far more probable that this artifact they are after is merely shaped like a star, happens to be broken, and its pieces are now scattered across the continent. ”

“The Martyshfolks in the tavern, they said those who have the Star can bend the elements to their will. Perhaps each of the pieces can bend a specific element,” I say, resting my cheek on my palm, my elbow propped on the table.

“Sorcery is the art of bending the elements to one’s will.

Each piece might command a single element. ”

“It’s a grim possibility,” Faelas admits.

His earlier sarcasm has faded, his eyes are narrowed, and a slight frown creases his brow.

“The question is, does power exist within each individual piece, or only when they are united to form this Star? Izadeon is a land of stone and mountains. It is rich in the earth’s bounty.

Iron, silver, bronze, and gold flow from our land.

If there is an object that commands the earth element, and Bernold knew about it, if it falls into Daevas’s hands, our fate is sealed,” he mutters, his eyes scanning the worn parchments on the table.

“I found nothing of worth either. Whatever this Star is, it’s a secret the world has swallowed whole. ”

“A strange thing, isn’t it? Something so powerful, desired by both Martysh and Firelands for decades, but no records of it anywhere.” I stare at the symbol of the Faith, an eight-pointed star, dangling around his neck. “Do you remember anything else about the Faith’s teachings, about the Star?”

Faelas grunts, which suggests his patience with my obsession is wearing thin. “It is just a symbol, Arien. Nothing more.”

Deflated, I slump back in my chair, surveying the chaotic mess of books and scrolls scattered across the table. Seven days of this, and we are no closer to unraveling the mystery of what this Star is.

“Do you believe the nine sisters’s story of the Faith?” I ask.

“Immortal women descending from the heavens to play with the elements? Not a chance.”

I hesitate, unsure whether to tread further into the realm of religious skepticism. Mocking the Faith isn’t exactly encouraged, especially with someone sporting its symbol. “But the Faith claims it’s true—”

“The Faith has its merits,” Faelas interrupts me with a surprisingly gentle voice.

“Peace, order, family, community—those are values I can get behind. Some higher power… I believe that, too. But the creation story?” He shakes his head.

“Pure mythology. You can believe in the Faith without swallowing every unbelievable tale the priests have cooked up over the centuries.”

I nod, pondering his words as my gaze sweeps over the vast expanse of bookshelves that line the library walls.

“And Firelands? What is their take on it all?” Faelas asks, leaning back against the chair and crossing his arms.

“They don’t preach the Faith, but Firelands also believes that fire, earth, air, water, nature, life, light, and sound are the foundation of this world.

It’s the ninth element where things get complicated.

Ahiras claim it’s sorcery rather than soul.

An element that binds with the life element.

Only some lucky mortals have it, and others, well, they are just regular folks. ”

“And that makes sorcerers superior?” Faelas asks, his eyes narrowing.

“Firelands wouldn’t put it that bluntly. But yes, sorcerers think themselves more complete than regular men because of it.”

“Bernold also thought the ninth element was sorcery,” he murmurs softly .

My head tilts as I take in the thoughtful expression that settles on his face. “You knew him well?”

He nods, a distant look in his eyes. “I grew up practically glued to his side in that book-filled crypt he called a study. Some called him a lunatic, but the man was a genius. He believed sorcery was a hidden element lurking in everyone, just waiting for its big break. Strong in some, a bit shy in others. But there, nonetheless, in every bone.”

My eyebrows raise to the tops of my forehead. Color me surprised. A Firelands sorcerer with a view like that? That is as likely as finding a pink Nohvan. “I wager that belief didn’t exactly make him the life of the social scenes in Firelands.”

Faelas chuckles dryly. “You could say that. The other Ahiras in Izadrock, the Dartheons’s seat, thought he was insane. But he was too busy being brilliant to care. Different breed, he was. Kind of reminds me of you, actually.”

I can’t help but grin. “So, I am an acceptable Ahira now?”

He grins back. “You are getting close.”

I suddenly realize this is the longest conversation Faelas and I have ever had and the first time we have talked about anything beyond the trials and that elusive Star.

Maybe it’s the shared hours we’ve spent the last seven days in the library or the desperation of the unknown, but something has definitely shifted between us.

He has been so suspicious of me, but the lines have blurred since the third trial.

I take a deep breath before I brave the next sentence. “I am sorry. About Bernold. And your father.”

Only crickets dare to break the silence that comes after.