My heart lurches. I’ve slept through the night. Did I miss the deadline? Failed the trial? I jump up from the chair with a frantic, jerky movement, my head spinning.
And then I see her. Martyshbod Lirael.
Standing by the window, her gaze fixed on the rising sun. I suddenly realize that this is Lirael’s solar, the very place Darian and I had spied upon more than two moons ago. It feels like another lifetime.
“The trial… ” I stammer.
She doesn’t move or turn to me. “You have passed the trial. I enchanted your horses to carry you and that boy back to Jahanwatch. Your stones were returned as well. You arrived just before dawn.”
I stare at her, my mind struggling to reconcile with her words. Lirael finally turns to me, her gaze sweeping over me, assessing. “I’m pleased that your first thought, after such a turbulent night, is of the trial. It suggests that Zareen hasn’t entirely succeeded in swaying you from your purpose.”
My legs betray me, and I sink back into the chair. Thirst claws at my throat, and my stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. Martyshbod Lirael gestures toward a small table beside me, where I see a bowl of ripe fruit, a loaf of freshly baked bread, small pies, and a pitcher of water. It’s a tempting spread, but even the thought of eating feels like too much effort.
Still, I reach for a goblet of water and manage to break off a piece of bread. I’m starving, but I can barely force myself to chew and swallow. Each bite feels like a monumental task. Soon, I abandon the effort, letting the bread fall back onto the plate, and simply sit with my gaze fixed on theuneaten food.
I think about Zanyar, his voice raw with emotion, the earnestness in his eyes, the vulnerability he’d revealed on the cliff. Had he really intended to sabotage me the entire time?
The steely resolve in his eyes terrified me on the cliff, but now, in the relative safety of this room, I question if he truly meant to hurt me. I reacted too quickly to let him act on his true intentions. And why would Emmengar assign him such a task in the first place?
I know that Martyshbod Lirael holds the answers to my questions. But… I can’t bring myself to demand them, not yet. The exhaustion is too profound that it’s smothering my will. Raising my head, I meet her gaze, and for the first time since the trials began, I see the same warm eyes that I saw as a child twelve long years ago.
“I’ve worried about you, Arien, all these years. I know, believe me, I know how suffocating Firelands can be for sorceresses, especially for a young, orphaned girl, thrust into that world without proper preparation. You’ve been in my thoughts more often than you know.”
She remembers me.
The realization is a dizzying wave that threatens to topple me. I feel like that small girl who spoiled herself in front of her again, and I bite down hard on my lip to hold back the tears.
“You’ve become a remarkable young woman,” Lirael continues, her voice softening further, and a hint of pride, perhaps even affection, colors her tone. “Even I heard word of a young sorceress earning her fourth ring at twenty-one. And when they described this extraordinary girl as an orphan from Myra…” She pauses, a slight smile playing on her lips. “. . . I felt a great sense of relief. I had planned to return to Firelands to find you. Imagine my surprise, then, when I learned you were walking through these very doors on your own volition.” Her voice is calm and kind, unrecognizable from her usual demeanor as the fearsome head of Martysh.
“You made a greater impact on me than you can imagine,” I rasp out, my voice choked with emotion. “I was utterly helpless back then. And your kindness stayed with me. Strong enough to draw me to Martysh, to you.”
We share a long, quiet moment, a silent acknowledgment of the impact we had on one another. But then, her expression turns serious and contemplative.
“Since you sought me out, it’s only fair that I be honest about what awaits you here, especially given all the deceptions surrounding you. I owe you the truth. To give you the opportunity to choose, even if it means disclosing Martysh’s secrets.”
I hold my breath, hoping she’ll reveal some truth that will put me at ease.
After another thoughtful pause, she continues, “I can’t say how much truth was in that Aramisi boy’s words, but one thing was true: Martyshyar’s mission focuses on finding the fragments of the Star. Our oaths, structure, and purpose exist solely to ensure that the Star’s power isn’t misused. He was right; if you choose to become a Martysshyar, Arien, you, specifically, would be solely dedicated to the search for the Star.”
Her words leave me feeling even more uneasy. What is it about me,specifically, that makes me uniquely suited for this task? Could it be the same reason Emmengar sent Zanyar, his most promising Ahira, to prevent me from joining Martysh?
“But… do we even know, for certain, that this Star… that it exists?” I ask. “Martysh has been around for three hundred years. If their entire reason for being is to find this Star, wouldn’t they have found it by now?”
Martyshbod Lirael’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “It is real, Arien.”
Shaking my head, I say, “But how can you be so sure?”
She pauses for what seems like a deliberate moment of withholding, then says, “Because we have a fragment of it.”
I feel the hair on my arms stands on end. A fragment? Here? With Martysh? I stare at her, struggling to process the magnitude of this revelation. But Lirael doesn’t wait for my reaction nor allow me time to absorb this earth-shattering news.
“Growing up in Firelands, I know very well that there aren’t many books about Martysh. But even less is known about its founder, Martyshbod Jiva. By all accounts, she seemed like an ordinary sorceress, born in Aramis from Izadeonian parents who escaped the first Daeva ambush. She servedas a regular soldier in the Aramis army, following the commands of men and sorcerers who were far more advanced and senior than she was.
“She was separated from her unit during a fierce battle against a monstrous horde in the eastern Albir Mountains. She was stranded and alone for days. But after she returned, she was changed. They say she single-handedly routed an entire army of those creatures, healing the wounded with effortless grace, showing no sign of fatigue, as if drawing on some limitless source of power. She was only twenty-one, yet her extraordinary powers cemented her place as the head of the Aramis sorcerer unit.”
Noticing the disbelief on my face, she continues, “Many of the stories about her are not documented, not even in Martysh’s records. However, she played a crucial role in defeating the Daeva army. As her reputation grew, even King Zaccarya Zareen and Jamaal Jafar began to heed her counsel. While many attribute the success of the Great War and the ensuing peace to King Zareen and Jafar, it was Martyshbod Jiva who was truly the continent’s savior. She negotiated the terms for establishing Firelands and forced Zaccarya Zareen to establish the Union instead of expanding the Aramis kingdom across the continent. Zaccarya Zareen was not a man known for his lack of ambition, but even he didn’t dare confront Jiva.
“However, the most extraordinary thing she did was her refusal to return to the newly established Firelands as the head of the council despite her instrumental role in its founding. Instead, she founded a new order, free from provincial loyalty, and established rules to safeguard it from corruption for generations to come. Once Martysh was established, she created the Martyshyar order, a select group of nine exceptionally loyal commanders, Masters, and sorcerers. Only to these trusted few did she reveal the truth.”
