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“Arien of Firelands and Darian of Izadeon,” Lirael’s voice, sharp and commanding, slices through the silence, yanking us back to the present and the reality of the trial.

We both turn to Lirael with wide eyes. We’ve been so consumed by Bahador’s departure that we’d forgotten everything else.

I turn to Darian. The cold, impassive facade he wore while issuing his ultimatum to Bahador has completely faded.

In its place is the familiar warmth and open affection he has always shown me.

His dark blue eyes silently beg me not to leave, not to follow Bahador into the unknown.

His gaze is telling me that he can’t bear another loss.

And yet, beneath that plea, there is a quiet resignation, a painful acceptance that he has done everything he could. The decision now rests solely with me.

And I… I know exactly what I should do.

Maybe it’s Bahador’s sacrifice, his agonizing choice to leave everything he loves behind for what he believes is right.

It thickened something in me. He broke away from his friends, his home, everything familiar, because he believed it was the only way to serve his purpose, even though, as he said, tearing off a limb would have been easier.

Izadeon is his heart and lifeblood, and yet, he chose exile, driven by a conviction that transcends personal happiness .

Because his purpose, above all, was saving his people.

As I watched him walk away, I asked myself, “Arien, what is your purpose? ”

I thought I had many: escape, strength, glory, belonging, acceptance, love. But I’ve been chasing shadows. My only chance at real peace, at true happiness, isn’t about finding a place to belong but about finding myself . Finding my purpose .

Maybe then, I will finally become someone who isn’t defined by what others think of her, the wounds of her past, or fleeting connections.

I know deep in my heart that I am more than my complexes. I have to be more than what happened to me in the past. I need to find out what that is first before I can discover my purpose. And how can I find myself, other than by breaking all of my idols?

And standing here, facing this impossible choice, I realize there’s only one path that offers that possibility. A path that requires breaking away from false promises of protection and power offered by Zanyar, Darian, Emmengar, and even Lirael.

It’s a terrifying path, a lonely path, but that’s exactly what I need. To break away. To be alone. To find myself.

The answer comes to me not as a reasoned decision but as a profound, undeniable knowing, an instinct honed by every moment, every choice, every heartbreak that has led me to this precipice.

I can’t explain it, can’t justify it with logic, but I suddenly know it with an absolute, unwavering certainty.

I turn to Darian, and a small, sad smile touches my lips. There are no words for this, no explanations that could possibly convey the complexity of what I’m feeling, of what I’m choosing.

He looks at me, and I see, in the depths of his stormy blue eyes… understanding. He smiles back, and it’s the saddest, most heartbreaking smile I’ve ever seen. He looks defeated and exhausted as if the weight of the world is etched on his young features.

I remember his wistful words, his dream of riding an endless road with no destination in mind, free from duty and expectation. But that’s not our reality. That’s not our destiny. And then, a poem of a forgotten verse comes to me:

“Somewhere beyond duty and desire, there is a valley. I will meet you there.”

The words spill from my lips, unbidden. And then, without another word, without a backward glance, I turn and walk toward Martyshbod Lirael.

Each step is a nail in the coffin of my past. When I reach her, I meet her gaze like cold steel against flint. “I forfeit my place in the Martyshyar trials.”

“Arien,” her voice is granite, and her eyes hold a power that can terrify Kings. “You are courting ruin. To throw away your birthright, your destiny, for the desolate promise of Firelands… You will be nothing but a low-level sorceress, weak and forgotten!”

“You misunderstand, Martyshbod.” My voice, though quiet, is firm and steady. “I have no intention of returning to Firelands.” I let the silence hang, watching the fury in her eyes curdle into confusion. “I walked here to inform you of my intention to join the cadets for the Martyshgard Order.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Lirael’s face, moments before a thundercloud, is now utterly blank as if her mind refuses to process the sheer stupidity of my words.

“Arien! Have you lost your senses? This is beyond foolishness. To squander your talent as a mere cadet when true power within Martyshyar Order is yours for the taking…”

But I don’t let her finish. “According to the Treaty of the Nine, no province can legally prevent its citizens from joining the Martyshgard Order. Martysh is also required to give everyone a chance as a cadet. I claim that right, Martyshbod. A right you cannot deny me.”

“Why?!” she burst out. “Why this demeaning path? If your aim is simply to remain in Martysh, you have far superior options!”

“Because,” I meet her stunned gaze and feel the unfamiliar sensation of absolute certainty like a shield around me, “no Martysh oath binds me to this path, nor does Firelands have the power to summon me back. I need time. I need space. I need the journey. To find the path that is truly mine before I chain myself to any allegiance for a lifetime.”

Lirael’s expression hardens further. “And if you discover, after all this pointless rebellion, that the only path for you is to be a Martyshyar? Then you will have wasted years, only to slave away to gain the seven stars required.”

“I can live with that,” I state, the words resonating with a truth I’ve just unearthed within myself. “If I make my mind to swear the oath of Martysh, I will bear the consequences of my actions without regret.”

A mirthless smile touches Lirael’s lips. “Arien. After years of being deemed unworthy in Firelands, aren’t you finally ready to grasp real power instead of being just another nameless soldier, lost in the ranks?”

“What others think of me does not matter. I want to look into the mirror and see a woman I admire. A woman I respect. A woman in control of her own destiny. This is the only path that offers me that.” Before she can formulate another argument, another warning, I press on, “I’d like a chance to fly the Nohvan if you will kindly allow it.

I will rip off the band when I reach Martyshyar Kamran.

When I lose consciousness, I would appreciate it if you could refrain from removing me from Jahanwatch.

But if you do, the moment I wake in the inn, I will hike up that mountain again to join the cadets. ”

And with that, I pivot and walk toward the Nohvan. My heart pounds a heavy, resolute rhythm against my ribs, and the world around me, the courtyard, Darian, Zanyar, Lirael, everything, fades into a distant, insignificant blur. There is only the path ahead and the unknown future that awaits.

Zanyar told me of his time on the road. Of wandering, searching, seeking himself. I need that time, that space, that journey . Not to find someone else, or a phantom, as he did. But to find myself .

Each step I take towards the majestic creature feels like the only thing that matters.

And the step after that. I don’t hear the voice calling my name nor the footsteps rushing toward me.

It is only the sudden grip on my arm that snaps me out of my trance.

The hand tightens for a moment, then releases.

I turn to see Zanyar sprawled on his back a few paces away. Lirael’s raised hand makes it clear what had happened. She had pushed him away with a flick of her wrist, effortlessly preventing him from interfering .

“I just want to talk to her!” Zanyar roars.

His voice is raw with such hatred and anger that is utterly foreign to the revered Ahira of Firelands.

In the past few days, I have witnessed a whirlwind of emotions cross his usually stoic face, but this is something else entirely.

He looks angry, resentful, and consumed by fear.

“It is all right,” I say to Lirael.

He rises from the ground, dust clinging to his clothes. He takes a deep, shaky breath and attempts to compose himself, then approaches me.

“Arien. What she did… that’s not normal. That’s beyond any sorcery I’ve ever encountered. Emmengar told me they have the life fragment, but I… I think she can wield its power.”

“I know,” I say calmly.

Zanyar’s eyes widen. “She told you? How… how can she?”

The look in his eyes is filled with fear, as if the leash he had kept on himself throughout his life has snapped, shattering the careful facade he usually presents to the world. He swallows hard, and the movement is visible in the line of his throat.

“I don’t… I don’t understand how she can wield that kind of power. But if she wanted you here, in Martysh, this badly, and if Emmengar was so desperate to prevent it…” He shakes his head, lost in a maze of implications. “. . . there must be something—”

“Zanyar,” I interrupt, cutting through his spiraling thoughts, “If you’re looking for answers, you won’t find them here. Ask Emmengar. Instead, let’s part ways in peace.”

He stares at me, his eyes searching mine. “I tried to come talk to you,” he says, his voice raw with grief and regret. “But she had guards posted outside my room. I couldn’t leave until now.” He pauses, his gaze searching mine. “Arien, I—”

“Zanyar,” I interrupt, gently this time.

“There are no words that can change anything between us. You can’t persuade me, and I know you’re too intelligent to know that.

If you want to explain, to apologize, you don’t have to.

Whatever Emmengar ordered, you didn’t do it.

And on the cliff, I don’t know what you would have done.

I panicked and fell. And neither of us will ever know what might have happened if I didn’t.

So, there’s nothing to explain. Nothing to apologize for. ”

I look at him, really look at him, trying to memorize the lines of his chiseled, perfect face.

The face that I have been infatuated with for years.

“I want you to know that your initial instinct was right. It was all a fantasy. Born of loneliness, on both our parts. You saw in me what you wanted to see, just as I did to you for a very long time. But I’m not anything special.

I’m not strong or inherently good. I’m… flawed.

Insecure. Scared. Jealous of what others had that I never did.

Nothing sets me apart from others. You saw a reflection of your own suppressed dreams in me, not the true me. ”

I pause, and my voice gains strength when I add, “But I want to be that woman you saw in me. I want to be powerful, confident, kind, secure, wise. To achieve that, I need to choose a path that will lead me in that direction. There might be other paths, but I am choosing the one that does not rely on another person. I have tried that, and it always left me more broken than before.”

Our paths are diverging. Still, a part of me, a foolish, sentimental part, wants to reach out, to touch him, to offer a final gesture of comfort, a farewell embrace. But I don’t. Instead, I speak with a low and steady voice, forcing the words past the lump in my throat.

“On the cliff, I wanted to thank you. I need you to know… all those years in Firelands, they were… hard. Lonely. And knowing that someone was watching over me, that someone, somewhere, cared… it makes a difference. It makes those bitter memories much less painful. So… thank you, Zanyar. I’m glad that, now that our paths diverge forever, it will give you the closure you need.

You’re a good man. And you deserve to be happy. I don’t wish you anything but that.”

I don’t wait for his response. Turning my back on him, I resume my journey. Each step I take closer to the Nohvan is a step away from doubt, from fear, from the shackles of the past. And with each step, a profound sense of clarity and certainty solidifies within me.

This is it. I’m not thirsty for belonging or power or inspired by the alluring dream of wielding the Star. I know, with a conviction that transcends logic, that I was born for this moment and for all the moments to come.

Every hardship, every betrayal, every heartbreak, every moment of despair… it all led me here and prepared me for what awaits.

When I reach the Nohvan, it doesn’t hesitate like its companions had with Samira, Olanna, and Bahador. It immediately kneels, and I climb onto its back with the ease of someone who has done this a thousand times before.

The Nohvan’s wings unfurl, vast, and powerful, catching the wind with a sound like thunder. As it launches itself into the sky, a surge of exhilaration courses through me.

It’s as if I’m shedding my own skin, leaving it on the cobblestones of Jahanwatch, and with it, the weight of the past, the fear, the doubt, the insecurity.

The girl who hid in that hallway, praying for her father’s love, is gone. This woman soaring above the vast expanse of the Albir Mountains is someone else entirely.

She… is a Sorceress .