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When Faelas finally speaks, his gaze remains on the table.

“We weren’t exactly close. My father and I.

Books and dreams were mine. The army and the temple were his.

In our family, it was either swords or sermons, for generations.

But I wanted to go to Madrisa and become a Master.

He thought I was insane. But Bernold understood it.

He saw the hunger for knowledge in me, the same hunger he had.

He understood me like a father should.” He pauses, looking uncertain of his next words.

“I used to stay up at night, praying that sorcery manifests in me.”

He pauses again, and I sense he just shared something he has never spoken of before. That gives me the courage to do the same, “I’ve known about my powers for as long as I can remember. I used to hide them and secretly pray for the opposite—for them to disappear.”

Our eyes meet, and a silent understanding passes between us.

Different desires stem from the same pain.

We both know the pain of loss, the ache of longing for something different from what life had offered.

He doesn’t pry, sensing that I would have shared more if I wanted to, especially since I lied about this during our first breakfast together.

“My father was deeply religious, so when I told him I wanted to be a Master, he blamed Bernold, claiming he’d corrupted me.

That’s why it was odd for him to meet Bernold alone outside of Izadmond.

He despised him. Or any sorcerer. He thought of them as the cause of all of our miseries.

And then… " His voice trails off, leaving the grief unspoken.

A cold weight settles in my stomach. Losing a father and a father figure in a single day… the pain is unimaginable.

“Not knowing why must be difficult,” I whisper, offering what little solace I can. I understand that part; not knowing why my parents abandoned me has always haunted me.

He nods with a distant gaze. “Yes. That’s the worst part. Making it a never-ending torment.”

Words are a thin comfort in the face of such pain. Outside, the world turns, indifferent to our sorrows. But in this quiet room, surrounded by the ghosts of forgotten knowledge, we stay silent, alone with our grief.

##################

Later that evening, when we are all gathered in the communal area, Faelas drops a fireball into our cozy fireside chat: “We must infiltrate the Martyshyar wing.”

When I gaze at him in disbelief, he says, “We are not going to find information about the Star by sniffing around the library. If it’s written down anywhere, it’s in that keep they call the Martyshyar wing.”

“You mean the forbidden section when we almost got caught last time we tried to sneak in?” I squeak, my voice reaching a pitch only dogs could appreciate. “We will be expelled.”

Faelas shrugs. “Who said it’s against the rules? They told us all the rules on the first night, and don’t-enter-the-Martyshyar-wing was not among them.”

“But it’s guarded tighter than a Nohvan’s hoard, even for Martyshgards. Even without a do-not-enter sign slapped on it, it is clearly not meant for us,” I squeak, my eyes wide in disbelief.

“And yet, you tried to breach it only two moons ago.”

“It was because I wanted to win the trial, not to satisfy my curiosity over a tale!”

Darian thinks for a moment, then flashes his lopsided grin. “We’ll just plead ignorance if we’re caught. And besides, we’re Izadeonians. We won’t get caught.”

Bahador, who’s been suspiciously silent until now, chimes in with a sage nod. “Rules are for the weak. The truth is out there, and we need to find it.”

I gape at all three of them. “Why? Why is it so important? You want to risk your necks for a tale?”

“You’ve been practically inhaling those scrolls for days.” Bahador chuckles. “Don’t tell me you’re not curious.”

“Of course, I’m curious! But risking our chance to join Martysh? That’s a whole different kind of risk,” I insist, my voice again rising higher than intended.

Faelas leans in. “They mentioned both Izadeon and Bernold. This Star is clearly connected to Izadeon, to my father’s death. We need to know.”

“But what’s the point?” I argue. “If we win, they’ll tell us anyway. Shouldn’t we focus on, I don’t know, not losing?”

Darian and Bahador seem to consider my point as a thoughtful frown creases their brows. Faelas, however, has none of my voice of reason. “What if we decide not to join Martysh after we uncover the truth?”

I stare at him, eyes wide. “What…”

Faelas crosses his arms. “What if this is bigger than a rivalry between Firelands and Martysh? What if there’s a power out there so potent that it makes both houses look like toddlers fighting over a toy? And what if Daevas get their hands on that!”

“Daevas are campfire stories, not real-world problems,” I retort before I can weigh my words.

Faelas’s face turns into a stone statue, and his eyes shoot daggers at me. “Oh, so you think they’re not an issue? Our families are wiped out, our homes turned into bonfires, and you’re talking about them like they’re yesterday’s news?”

Damn it. I was too insensitive. “I didn’t mean to offend. I just meant… well, they’re not exactly a threat compared to powers like Firelands and Martysh, right? They have no chance to find this power before them.” My voice is low, almost desperate.

“And how do you know that, exactly?” Faelas challenges, his lips thinning.

“Most of the Daevas died in the Great War.”

“And you are the expert on their population count?” Faelas presses with a frown, clearly not buying my logic. “They commanded massive armies. Who knows how many are lurking in the shadows, waiting for their moment to strike?”

Darian leans in, his expression serious.

“If there is something so powerful out there that it can shake the foundation of the earth, those creepy crawlies will be sniffing around for it. And if they get their hands on it, imagine the destruction they will unleash upon the world. We Izadeonians will undoubtedly be caught in the crossfire once again. All I know is that the right folks need to find whatever this Star is before the evil does.”

I start fiddling with my fingers nervously. “Even if that’s the case, then we need to help Martysh find the Star before they can.”

Faelas almost chokes on his disbelief. “Martysh has been keeping this Star a secret from us for gods know how long. Even when it was related to Bernold’s death, to my father’s.

This might be a matter of life and death for Izadeon, and they are playing hide-and-seek with the truth.

Who are they to decide what we need to know and what we don’t when it’s our lives that are on the line?

I want answers before I pledge allegiance to their cryptic cause. ”

A sharp pang of anxiety pierces me. Are they actually reconsidering joining Martysh? Even though I know it’s irrational, the notion terrifies me. It’s as if my own desire to join Martysh is intrinsically linked to theirs, as if we’ve been lifelong companions instead of allies of convenience.

I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but the thought of them leaving…

it’s unbearable. I need to find a way to convince them to refocus on winning these trials and joining Martysh.

“Martysh is the best option we’ve got. They are sworn not to do evil with power, so they are the most trustworthy side to own such power.

They’re bound by an oath to protect us, remember? ”

Faelas scoffs, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure contempt. “That oath is older than dirt and about as reliable. They’ve forgotten their duty, lost in this game of power.”

I watch him in disbelief. Just days ago, he was eager to join the Martyshyar ranks. Now, doubt and anger seem to have consumed him.

“Where were they when monsters ravaged our lands and our people suffered? That was the bargain when the Union was established, for Martysh and Firelands to protect us. But they’ve broken their word.

We’re holding the line in Izadeon, and if we fall, the whole continent is going down with us.

And now this secret! We wanted to join them, to give them a gentle nudge toward the looming darkness beyond our borders.

But if they’re sitting on secrets that could spell doom for us all, I’m not signing a lifelong contract without full disclosure.

It’s not enough to know they won’t use this power for evil; the question is, will they use it for good?

To give those Doozak monsters a final passage to oblivion?

Or will they just add it to their collection of shiny things, like a dragon hoarding gold? ”

“I hear you. I understand,” I say, trying to stay calm. “But the risk is too high. If I don’t make it into Martysh, I’m back to Firelands as a failure, and I promised Emmengar that…”

But Faelas isn’t backing down. “We need you, Arien. If those secrets are locked behind magical barriers, we need an Ahira by our side.”

Darian and Bahador exchange a nervous glance, and their discomfort is palpable.

“I want to fight for the safety of your people. But this… " My voice is tr embling. “I want to join Martysh. That’s the reason I came here, not to—”

“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.

This Star , 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 at play?

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—my friends .