Page 66

The question, unbidden and unwanted, explodes in my mind like a silent scream. And I… I don’t know. My mind is filled with conflicting emotions: anxiety, fear, disbelief, yes, but also desire, a shameful, undeniable longing that claws at me, that makes my breath catch, my body tremble .

All I know, with a sudden, rushing clarity, is that I need to escape .

To run. To hide. To retreat back to the safety of my inner walls and the familiar, cold comfort of my suppressed emotions.

This exposure, this raw, unfiltered need radiating from him…

It’s too much. It’s terrifying. I don’t want to face it or assess my reaction to it. I never asked for it.

I think he sees the panic in my eyes because his face… it doesn’t harden, not exactly. But something shifts. The vulnerability and desire recede, replaced by a fierce determination.

“Arien.” His voice is not the soft murmur of moments before, nor is it a command.

It’s something in between. It’s a raw, urgent appeal edged with steel.

“You have to come to Aramis. I’m not asking you to give up your dreams for a man you barely know, but you need to reconsider the path you’re choosing.

Martysh is consumed by the Star. It’s their driving force, their obsession.

If you join them, you’ll be swept up in that obsession, dragged into a dangerous quest that could very well destroy you.

Is that what you truly want? Don’t throw your life away chasing a phantom, Arien.

Don’t get lost in Martysh’s centuries-long obsession. ”

“Centuries?” The word escapes me in a strangled gasp.

“Yes,” he confirms, his voice low and serious.

“Martysh was founded on the search for the Star. It’s been their driving purpose for generations.

I know you’re afraid of being trapped in Firelands, but Aramis offers freedom.

A chance to learn and grow. You’d meet people from all corners of the continent and experience things you’ve only dreamed of.

I’m not saying this out of selfishness. I genuinely care about your happiness.

I admit,” he adds, a hint of vulnerability creeping back into his voice, “I want you near me. I want to get to know you, the real you. But even if that weren’t a factor, I’d still be saying this. Martysh, it’s a dangerous path, Arien.”

His words are turning into a plea, but beneath the surface, I hear the echo of command, the ingrained expectation of obedience. Doubt coils in my stomach. The weight of this decision, of choosing a future right at this moment, is suffocating me, amplified by the urgency in his voice.

“I… I need time,” I whisper, desperate for space, for air. “Time to think. About all of this. ”

“There is no time,” Zanyar says with a sharp voice. “The final trial is imminent. I can feel it. "

Cold reality crashes back into my gut. “You can’t force me to decide right now. Not like this.”

I try to stand up and move away from him, but his grip tightens on my arms. With me still held in place, he closes his eyes for a moment.

He takes a deep breath as if trying to control himself.

When he opens his eyes again, the warmth is gone, replaced by a chilling determination—a resolve that sends a shiver of pure fear down my body.

My heart hammers like a trapped bird. Pulling my arms out of his grip, I rise to my feet.

“Why did you bring me here?” I demand, my voice trembling as I take a step back. My heel scrapes against loose gravel.

Panic explodes in my chest like a cold, suffocating wave.

Everything suddenly feels wrong. His actions tonight—choosing me as a partner, showing unexpected softness during the mission, the confession, and now his forceful demand disguised as a plea—seem calculated.

It feels like he’s been playing a game and would do anything to ensure my compliance.

“Calm down, Arien,” Zanyar says, his voice deceptively smooth, but the words do nothing to soothe the rising panic inside me.

In one smooth movement, he rises to his feet, mirroring my stance.

“That mission tonight, it was nothing. Any Ahira could have spied on that merchant. Whatever you promised Emmengar, whatever deal you struck… it required access to Jahanwatch, didn’t it?”

Zanyar says nothing. But his silence, the way he doesn’t deny it, is a deafening admission.

“Why did you ask me to come with you?” Taking another step back, my foot slips slightly on the uneven ground.

“I didn’t ask it,” he says with a calm, controlled voice. “You offered. If memory serves.”

He takes a step forward, making me take another step back.

“And you went along with it,” I say, my voice trembling, “knowing full well that I’d betray every Firelands secret to Martysh the instant I joined them.

Unless…” I take another step back, my heel dangerously cl ose to a steep slope.

“Unless you never intended for me to join them. Did you? Why did you really bring me here?”

Dark, terrifying possibilities flood my mind, and I glare at him accusingly.

“Arien, calm down. Come here,” Zanyar says. His voice is suddenly sharp and urgent as he takes a step toward me, his hand outstretched.

I flinch back, and my foot slips on a loose stone. A scream tears from my throat as my foot lands on a steep slope, my arms flailing wildly, and then—I’m teetering, stepping backward on the slope.

“Arien!” Zanyar roars.

But it’s too late. Earth’s pull, like a relentless force, has taken over. I claw at the air in a desperate, utterly futile attempt to save myself, but my fingers grasp at nothing, finding only the cold, empty night. Zanyar lunges forward, his hand reaching, reaching… but he’s too far.

My mind screams at me to shift my weight forward. I do just that, but my body is accelerating down the slope, and I can’t find a handhold. There’s no stopping it. No reversing it. This is it.

I see Zanyar stepping onto the steep slope after me, his face filled with horror. He’ll fall, too, if he can’t find a purchase. It’s insane, suicidal. I watch it all happen as if from outside my own body. I reach the end of the slope, and I plunge into the abyss.

And then… nothing . I’m not falling anymore. No. I’m… floating. Suspended in mid-air, weightless, held by an invisible force.

My heart is pounding wildly as I stare at Zanyar, certain he’s used sorcery, and he’ll black out any second, and we’ll both plummet into the darkness.

But he’s still there, inches from the cliff edge, clinging to the rock face with his footing surprisingly secure on the treacherous slope.

And he’s conscious. Wide awake. Which means he didn’t use sorcery.

Or it didn’t affect him the way it should have.

Time stretches like an agonizing eternity as we lock eyes, both of us breathless, suspended between terror and disbelief.

Then, slowly, gently, the unseen force lifts me, higher and higher, carrying me over Zanyar and the crumbling edge of the cliff, and then, with infinite care, deposits me back on solid ground.

My legs wobble, threatening to give way, but I find my balance.

My head turns on a swivel as I search for the source of this impossible rescue. But there’s no one. Just the empty night, the wind, and the distant lights of Shemiran.

Zanyar scrambles back up the steep slope, his chest heaving. And then, as if summoned by our unspoken questions, a figure emerges from the shadows of the trees, stepping into the moonlight.