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Samira’s struggles are intensifying, and her grip is slowly slipping away. A few more moments, and she will lose her grip…

“Find a foothold before pulling yourself up,” Faelas shouts with a surprisingly calm voice, instructing her. “There is a crack on the right side of your right foot. A little higher. More to the right. There.”

After several torturous moments, she somehow finds her footing on the crack at the edge of the pillar, giving her the leverage she desperately needs to steady herself.

Only after does she manage to lift her left arm and grab the edge with both hands before climbing the wet surface with careful movements.

When she finally hauls herself onto the top of the pillar, I let out a sigh of relief, watching her roll onto her back.

“Are you all right?” Bahador asks.

Samira, her chest heaving, manages a weak “Aye.”

She covers her eyes with her forearm, trying to find her breath. After a few moments, she uses the same forearm to wipe the sweat from her brow, sits up, and her gaze immediately settles on the fourth row.

“Don’t even think about it,” Bahador warns with a gruff voice.

Has she lost her senses? Does she really think she can jump again after that near fall? If I were in her position, I would be terrified, knowing I would have to jump back the same distance I almost fell, let alone consider jumping even farther forward, a longer distance.

But Samira stubbornly gets back to her feet, her eyes fixed on the path ahead of her. “The sorcerer said this is all an illusion. We might not die if we fall.”

“He said we might or might not,” Bahador says. “Would you really risk your life on the words of an Aramisi? I’ve known sellswords with more loyalty. It’s a fool’s gamble.”

Samira lifts her chin defiantly. “Better a fool’s gamble than a coward’s retreat.”

“He also warned that strong magic can deceive your mind, leading to a broken body,” Faelas says. “Is there anything about this illusion that doesn’t feel powerful to you? The Myran died by whatever illusion he experienced here.”

But Samira, with deep determination in her voice, responds, “I promised Olanna.”

Guilt floods my heart, sharp and relentless.

It should be Olanna here, gracefully leaping across these cursed pillars.

Instead, Zanyar and I, with the fewest coins to gather, are both here, with all nine of ours collected while Samira faces this impossible challenge.

If she falls, I’ll carry the weight of her demise for the rest of my life.

My gaze shifts to the second pillar ahead on my path.

The gap looks daunting, but everyone else crossed the first and second rows with only small difficulty.

I can’t be that much weaker than them! Even if I lack Samira’s skills or those of the Izadeonians, this jump seems trivial compared to the distance she’s contemplating.

“Don’t,” a voice hisses, startling me.

It’s Zanyar. I see his intense gaze fixed on me as I turn to him. How did he know? I didn’t even move! But Zanyar’s eyes lock onto mine, conveying a silent command as he shakes his head in a disapproving gesture.

“Nine hells, woman,” Bahador exclaims, pulling me from my thoughts. “Have you lost your mind?”

But Samira is already getting ready to jump.

“Wait, wait,” Bahador urges, pointing to the pillar in front of him. “I’ll grab one for you.”

Samira turns to him with disbelief.

“Bahador!” Darian snaps. “Don’t be a fool.”

Now I’m starting to panic. Bahador is strong, but he is heavy, and his weight will work against him on such a wide leap.

Even Faelas, who is as light as a sack of feathers compared to Bahador, nearly slipped to his doom, jumping the same distance.

And Samira, for all her strength and agility, dangled over the edge.

I have a better chance of leaping to the second row than Bahador jumping to the third.

Or so I think until I eye the distance again.

“Arien,” Zanyar hisses again. Thankfully, he keeps his voice low, and the others don’t hear. But I have already made my decision. Ignoring his warning, I take a step back.

“Arien!” Zanyar’s voice is piercing this time, and it reverberates through the cavern. But it’s too late.

Suddenly, I am flying! Well, not actually flying, but it feels like it. Like a bird escaping its cage, I soar through the air.

Everything seems to slow down, and time stretches out, each heartbeat echoing forever. The gap between the pillars narrows, and the distance over the abyss now seems like just a small step away.

Zanyar’s shout captures everyone’s attention.

But my body moves faster than their astonishment.

I land hard on the second pillar, and my foot slips immediately.

Momentum propels me forward, and I’m down on all fours, clinging to the pillar’s edge like a drowning sailor to driftwood.

Heart thundering in my chest, I take a moment to gather my wits.

I did it! A thrill surges through me, sharp and sweet as the taste of victory.

“Here,” I say, collecting the coin and holding it in the air for Samira to see. “This one’s for you.”

“Arien!” Darian roars.

“What in the nine hells were you thinking?” Faelas grumbles.

“Gods preserve us from reckless fools,” Bahador mutters, shaking his head.

Samira sinks to her knees and watches me with disbelief. I give her a nod of reassurance and place the coin in my pocket.

“Let’s get back before someone else decides to tempt fate,” Faelas urges.

Darian’s face is a thundercloud, dark and turbulent, and his eyes burn into me with a furious intensity. He seems to be making a deliberate effort to hold back the full force of his anger. I manage a weak, wobbly smile to reassure him.

Faelas steps back as far as he can against the narrow pillar, staring into the gap. I shut my eyes tight again, not wanting to see him jump. A moment later, I hear his boots scrape against the stone and a muffled curse. He’s made it, but not without a struggle.

As he rises to his feet, all eyes turn to Samira.

The knowledge that she has enough coins seems to have given her new courage.

She jumps in a graceful arc. This time, her landing is much more assured when her feet find traction on the slick stone.

She stumbles, but she throws herself forward to land hard on the pillar’s surface.

A grunt escapes her lips, and her face twists in a grimace, suggesting she may have hurt herself, but she is safe.

The worst is over. The next two jumps will be easy for someone of her strength.

All eyes are on me now, as my jump is the next most difficult after Samira and Faelas’s.

“Careful, Arien,” Darian warns.

I take a step back, trying to repeat how I managed to jump here a short while ago, but I stop at the sound of sobbing.

Roshana is sitting at the edge of the cliff, and tears are streaming down her face.

It seems like she was paralyzed by her fear of heights or the knowledge that one or even two jumps wouldn’t provide her with enough coins, and now she is finally succumbing to her despair.

I can’t help but feel remorse for her distress.

“What are you waiting for, Arien?” Darian asks impatiently. His gaze is fixed on me, and he is pointedly ignoring Roshana’s distress.

“Should we just abandon her?” I ask, gesturing toward Roshana.

“She needs five coins,” Faelas states with a flat voice. “Even if one of us makes it to the third row, she won’t have enough.”

A frantic calculation of coins and leaps is swirling in my head.

Suppose Roshana could somehow find the courage for two jumps; that still leaves three, requiring three people to risk more jumps.

The thought is a cold weight in my stomach.

How can I ask that of others? My gaze involuntarily drifts to my own third pillar.

The distance is a dizzying, impossible span.

“Arien.” Darian’s voice is a low growl, like a warning rumble that cuts through my thoughts. “By the Nine, if you even think about trying that jump, I’ll leap across this chasm right now and drag you back myself.”

It might sound like an empty threat, but the raw intensity blazing in his eyes and the steel in his voice tells me he’s dead serious.

“She trusted us,” I argue, my voice trembling slightly. I turn back to the group, trying to appeal to their sense of honor. “She put her faith in us, in our alliance. We wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t stepped through those gates with us. Unity got us this far. We can’t abandon her now.”

“Fine words, but empty,” Faelas retorts, his sharp voice cutting through my impassioned plea. “Are you suggesting that Darian and Bahador risk their lives for a cause that’s already lost? Be realistic, Arien.”

“I… I didn’t say… ” I stammer, but that’s exactly what I’d been thinking, I realize with a great deal of guilt.

“Then what, Arien?” Faelas’s voice cracks with frustration, snapping at me. “How do you propose we magically conjure up five more coins?”

Darian’s eyes flick to Faelas, and I notice a silent rebuke and a command for restraint in his gaze that immediately silences Faelas.

Then, he addresses me with a much softer voice.

“Arien. There’s no path to victory for her.

I’d jump myself if you ask me. But I won’t stand by and watch you risk your life on that third row.

It’s too dangerous. Let’s go back. There’s no shame in survival. ”

I tear my gaze away from Darian. Deep down, I know he is right, but my heart is a painful knot in my chest. I look at Roshana and see the crushing weight of despair and a great amount of helplessness in her face.

Darian’s right. There’s no logical solution.

But abandoning her, leaving her to this…

this defeat… it feels wrong. I’ve been helpless countless times in my life as others looked the other way. I know how it feels.

My mind scrambles, desperately searching for an alternative, a loophole, anything, but the Gajaris are notoriously indifferent, offering no help, especially to an Aramisi. And I can’t, I won’t , ask Darian or Bahador to risk their lives for a stranger.

“I’ll help her.”

I whirl around when I hear Zanyar’s words, staring at him in disbelief. But his expression is serious, and his gaze is determined.

Bahador scoffs with a sound of pure incredulity. “And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that? Sprout wings?”

Zanyar ignores him, and his eyes don’t leave mine. “Go back to the edge. I’ll take care of her. ”

“How?” I demand, needing to understand, to believe.

“Just go back,” he repeats, his voice softening slightly but still holding that core of steel. “You have my word.”

His words, so simple, so certain, strangely quell my doubts with a trust I can’t explain, a confidence that has no logical basis.

I really don’t understand myself, my reactions, or my thoughts when it comes to him.

Never did. So I simply nod, knowing in my heart he speaks true, and take a step back, preparing to jump.

Taking a deep breath, I launch myself across the chasm again. This time, the landing is rougher and less graceful—a desperate scramble for purchase as sweat beads on my forehead—but I make it through.

Darian, Faelas, Samira, and Bahador follow until we’re all together in the first row. Then, as one, we jump back to the solid ground of the cliff edge.

Zanyar still stands poised on the first pillar, his gaze fixed on me as if he wants to make sure I’m safely back before he continues.

Then, with a breathtaking display of strength, he jumps to the second pillar, snatching the newly formed golden coin with effortless grace.

And then, defying all logic, all reason, he soars to the third pillar, a jump that should be impossible for many men.

For him, though, he lands with a quiet, controlled grace that looks out of this world.

Only his knees bend slightly to absorb the impact with an impeccable balance.

I stare with wide eyes, mesmerized, my mind struggling to reconcile what I’m seeing.

Is it sorcery? Some hidden, forbidden power?

Or is it simply the peak of a man’s potential, a warrior’s skill honed to an impossible perfection?

His movements are too fluid, too easy , for someone supposedly relying solely on physical prowess, especially after the struggles Faelas and Samira showed jumping to the third row.

He jumps back the same distances with the same effortless ease. He returns to the cliff edge as if he’d simply strolled across a meadow, then approaches Roshana. He’s almost tender as he helps her to her feet and moves her aside. Then, he steps toward the first pillar of her path.

What?! This shouldn’t be possible! The rules were clear: a path, once claimed, cannot be used by others .

And then, understanding dawns on me. Roshana never claimed her path. She never made the jump. The path is still open.

Zanyar doesn’t hesitate. He launches himself at the first pillar, picks up the newly formed coin, and slips it into his pocket. Then, the second pillar. The third. Each jump is a perfect arc, each landing precise and silent. It’s a spectacle of power and control that leaves us all speechless.

He returns to the cliff edge just as swiftly, retrieving the five coins from his pocket, and, with a gentleness that belies the power he just displayed, places them in Roshana’s trembling hands.

Then, without a word, without a backward glance, he turns and strides towards the Gajaris who are standing by the gates, his broad shoulders disappearing into the swirling cavern gloom, a shadow amongst shadows.