Page 52

“I had no idea,” I manage to say.

“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t sound convinced. At all .

“That vendor was definitely a creep,” I blurt out.

“Maybe he sensed you were craving something in particular ,” he counters, with that unexpected, playful glint in his eyes.

I run a hand over my blushed face, trying to steady myself in the face of this absurd situation. “At least even in this den of sin,” I gesture at the stars scattered on the ground, “we can follow the path to righteousness.”

A sound breaks through my mortification. Time stops. My jaw drops. I stare, completely dumbfounded. Zanyar is laughing at my joke. Not a chuckle, not a smirk, but a genuine laugh, one that echoes in the suddenly quiet street.

His usual stoicism has given way to something lighter.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, and his lips curve into a smile that’s both startling and…

beautiful. It’s a revelation, and it makes my heart do a strange flutter-kick against my ribs.

I quickly look away, not wanting to stare with an open mouth.

“Let’s follow the stars,” he says, his voice still laced with amusement. “Unless you want to walk back.”

“Absolutely not,” I reply, shuddering dramatically.

Zanyar laughs again as we walk along the star-marked path. After a few twists and turns through the pleasantly ordinary streets, we finally emerge into a massive square.

Dominating the space is a towering triangular building, as black as night, with three spires piercing the sky like obsidian needles.

Short passageways lead from each corner of the building to the plaza, creating a dramatic approach to the temple’s three entrances.

It’s an impressive sight, and for a moment, I forget my earlier embarrassment.

We walk toward a small stone bench on the side of the temple and sit in silence, staring at the massive building.

“I’ve been thinking,” I suddenly break the silence, “The coins… they solidified from that phantom of light in the shape of a Nohvan.”

Zanyar looks at me, and for some reason, I have a feeling he’d already pieced together the puzzle before I even opened my mouth. “You think the coins can show us the way,” he states as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Exactly! If we can transform them back into the flying light, it could guide us.”

Zanyar’s nod is almost smug. “I had the same thought back in the mountains. I tried to turn the coins into the phantom, hoping it could show the way back to Jahanwatch. But that trial was just about endurance and navigation. But here? Searching for small coins in a town this size is a fool’s errand.

If these coins are the advantage we gained from past trials, bringing back the Nohvan from our coins to guide us to where the missing ones are is the only logical conclusion. ”

I’m amazed that we’ve somehow come to the same conclusion without even checking with each other, and a peculiar one at that. I pull out my coins and examine them.

“Could it be why they paired us? Maybe only our combined coins work?” I ask, running my hand over my mouth in contemplation.

Zanyar thinks about it for a moment, and then he takes out his five coins. I do the same and add my two coins to the pile. We both stare at the seven coins resting in his palm, but nothing happens.

“That would have been too easy,” I say with a sigh, taking back my coins.

“But we are on the right path. I’m certain of it. Maybe we need something else besides the coins,” Zanyar says, scanning the surroundings. “Maybe something in this town.”

We sit in silence as a comfortable stillness rests between us. The sun has begun its slow descent. We should be heading back to the stables soon, but I can’t bring myself to look away from the temple. It’s breathtaking, a masterpiece of architecture that seems to hum with a power of its own.

In Firelands, we were taught to fear and despise the Faith, to see them as our eternal enemies. But now, standing here, gazing at this magnificent structure… I’m not so sure. How can such beauty inspire hatred?

“We can go inside,” Zanyar suddenly says with a gentle note in his voice, breaking my reverie. When I look at him, I see his gaze on me. “You said you wanted adventure. What better adventure than strolling into the enemy’s den? ”

I chuckle. “I do like adventure. But…” I gesture toward the sun. “We need to leave soon.”

He smiles, a warm, genuine smile that is so breathtakingly beautiful that I have to look away, wondering why he doesn’t grace the world with this beautiful sight more often.

The sculptures of the nine sisters, carved into the temple walls, catch my eye again.

Each sister holds a different object, a symbol of each of the nine elements.

I look at the elements, and the connection to that mysterious Star hits me again.

The shattered fragments are each named for an element, just like the eight pieces of the Star of the Faith.

I steal a glance at Zanyar. He’s scanning the plaza, his expression guarded, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

“Do you believe the story of the nine sisters?” I ask, trying to sound casual as if it’s a mere idle question.

He turns to me with a small frown. “You mean nine women plummeting from the sky and creating the world with a wave of their hands?”

“Not the whole story,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “But… is there any truth behind it? Some reality that became mythologized?”

Zanyar’s frown deepens. “What are you getting at?”

I hesitate. This is dangerous ground. “I don’t know. Maybe there was a power, something that could control the elements. And that became the basis for the Faith, for their symbol.”

He stares at me, his gaze intense, burning into me. The silence stretches, thick and heavy. He doesn’t speak, but there’s something unreadable in his eyes, a flicker of something that makes my stomach clench with a sudden, sharp anxiety.

I’ve said too much. Far too much.

His hand clamps around my arm, not painfully, but with a possessive grip that hauls me to my feet. “How did you find out?”

It is not a question. It is a demand.

“What do you mean?” I stall, but my eyes are betraying my nervousness.

“ Arien .” The single word is a warning, a clear signal that he won’t tolerate lies or evasions, as his eyes bore into me .

My mind struggles to find a way out of this. I could lie, but… what’s the point? This is Zanyar Zareen. He’s not some gullible fool I can easily manipulate. And a rebellious voice whispers: Why should I lie?

“I overheard something,” I admit, lifting my chin.

“What did you hear?” He doesn’t move, doesn’t release my arm.

“Why don’t you tell me what you know, and then I’ll tell you what I heard.”

“Arien.”

My name, again…

It’s infuriating, this fake familiarity as if he has some right to use my name and to demand answers from me.

“It’s a give and take, isn’t it?” I retort, injecting a deliberate coolness into my tone. “Zaannyyaarr.” I draw out each letter of his name as a pointed, childish act of rebellion.

His jaw ticks, the only outward sign of his irritation.

It’s a fleeting crack in that impenetrable mask he wears, and it sends a pang of satisfaction—and, admittedly, a flicker of apprehension—through me.

I expect the usual intimidation tactic, the icy stare meant to freeze me in my tracks.

Instead, I see a barely perceptible biting of his inner cheek.

Zanyar Zareen, the master of icy control, is nervous.

But his next words wipe the smugness right off my face.

“This isn’t a game, Arien.” His voice is low and deadly serious.

“This is about the fate of our kind, of the world . If you know about the Star, then you’re entangled in something far more dangerous than you can imagine.

” He pauses, his gaze searching mine. “I don’t want you to get hurt. ”

The sincerity in his voice, the unexpected concern, throws me off balance. “Then tell me. Explain the dangers so I can protect myself.” I demand as a defense against the sudden, unwelcome tremor of fear that snakes through me.

Zanyar closes his eyes for a long moment, and a sound of weary resignation escapes him. When he opens them again, the intensity is gone, replaced by something that looks almost like… defeat. “A deal, then. You tell me what you know, and I’ll answer your questions. Honestly.”

I consider this offer. It’s unfair. I’m laying my cards on the table while he’s only promising answers, which I’m sure will be carefully chosen.

But I’m drowning in questions, and he’s the only lifeline within reach, especially now that Darian has decided I’m not worthy of the truth. This might be the best deal I’ll get.

“And how do I know you’ll keep your word?”

He simply stares at me with a silent, arrogant assertion that his word is his bond. That he is above lying. Of course .

“All right,” I concede. “I overheard Martysh folks talking about an object, something capable of unimaginable power and changing the foundation of the world, they said. Its pieces are scattered across the continent, and they are named after the elements of creation. It sounds suspiciously like the Star of the Faith, like the story of the nine sisters.”

Zanyar’s face turns to granite, every muscle taut, his eyes hardening into chips of ice. He’s trying to hide his reaction, but the shock is there. “And who else knows about this?”

“That wasn’t part of the deal. I am the one asking questions.”

Zanyar looks at me with obvious annoyance. “You were supposed to tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth,” I retort, forcing myself to hold his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. I didn’t lie. I just… omitted a few details.

He takes a deep breath, a slow, controlled inhalation, and looks up at the sky as if searching for divine intervention—or maybe just patience.

“What is this Star?” I ask, pressing my advantage, refusing to let him off the hook.

Silence. He ignores the question, his gaze fixed on some distant point as a deliberate tactic to regain control.

“You promised to answer my questions.”

His eyes snap back to mine. “I promised to be truthful. You’re being selective with your truth. I’m simply returning the favor.”

I frown, meeting his gaze, holding it. It’s a silent battle of wills, a tense standoff, even as every fiber of my being fights the desperate need to squirm away from his mesmerizing eyes that hold an unfair control over me.

Finally, after a long moment, he speaks with a low and grudging voice. “What you heard is true. Each piece of the Star contains the power to bend one of the elements.”

“Do they work individually or only when combined?”

“No one knows,”

“Has anyone found a piece yet?”

He hesitates, his eyes searching mine. It seems like a calculation is taking place behind his impassive mask. “Martysh… might have one. They’ve known about the Star far longer than anyone else.”

The words are carefully chosen and evasive. He’s testing me, waiting for a reaction, a tell. But I keep my face carefully blank.

Let him wonder.

“So you came here to find out if Martysh has a piece?”

Another pause, another intense study of my face. Then, a single, clipped word. “No.”

Oh, so he is lying, after all. I try to see through his deception, but he only stares back, his face a blank mask.

“Who made this Star?”

“No one knows. All records were wiped out centuries ago. If that’s Martysh’s work, then they have known about this for a long time. Firelands only learned about the Star more than a decade ago, by accident.”

Almost around the time that Bernold was murdered.

“It’s related to the story of the nine sisters, isn’t it?”

“The story of the nine sisters is ancient, pre-dating written records. It’s more likely that the Star was created, inspired by the creation myth, not the other way around.”

Before I can formulate another question, he cuts me off. “Now,” his voice hardens, “it’s your turn. Tell me the truth, Arien. Before you ask anything else.”

“I told you the truth,” I protest.

He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he moves.

With shocking speed, he seizes both of my arms with a firm grip, not quite painful but undeniably controlling.

He pulls me closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, close enough that his eyes, those intense emeralds, fill my vision.

He’s done playing games.

“Arien.” His voice is a dangerous rumble. “This is not a game. The entire continent is on the brink of war. If others know about this, especially your Izadeonian friends, it’ll be a hundred times more dangerous.”

Panic claws at my throat.

He knows.

“What if they do know?” I challenge, my voice trembling despite my efforts to control it. “They’ll find out eventually if they join Martysh.”

Zanyar closes his eyes for a short second and takes a deep, slow breath as if struggling for patience.

When he opens his eyes again, they’re filled with a chilling warning.

“You’re not helping them, are you? I know you’re disillusioned with Firelands, but our land is your only protection, no matter how much you hate it.

If you’re aiding the enemy, you’re not just endangering yourself.

You’re risking the lives of every single sorcerer. ”

His words squeeze the air from my lungs. I bite my lip, trying to anchor myself in reality. I need time and space, away from his overwhelming presence, to think.

“I’ll see you at sunset,” I say, the words rushed and desperate. “In front of the stables.”

And without waiting for a response, I wrench myself free from his grip and bolt.