Bahador, to his credit, doesn’t flinch. He stands tall, his voice calm and steady when he responds to Faelas’s barely controlled rage. “No, Faelas. There’s a difference between surrendering in weakness and negotiating a partnership through strength.”
“And why now?” Faelas demands, crossing his arms, his body rigid with anger. “Why this sudden call for diplomacy? Can’t this wait until tomorrow? Until after the trial?”
Bahador hesitates, but I know, with certainty, what he’s about to say. It’s the only explanation for this desperate urgency.
“Perhaps,” Bahador says, his voice low, his gaze meeting Faelas’s, then shifting to Darian, “perhaps you’d be more open to the idea of negotiating with Martysh… if you had a friend on the inside.”
Faelas’s face hardens, his eyes narrowing, but Darian remains terrifyingly still. His gaze is fixed on Bahador, and when he speaks, his voice is devoid of any warmth or any trace of the friendship that had bound them together for so long. “Whether or not you join Martysh, it will not change my decision. My duty is to Izadeon, not my friends. However, if you choose that path, you forfeit your allegiance to me and your homeland. As your commander, as your liege,” he emphasizes the title, “I command you to stay. And if you disobey, you will never be welcomed back to Izadeon. Not as long as I rule.”
It’s a proclamation heavy with the weight of his authority. At this moment, he is not the Darian that I know as a friend. He is Darian Dartheon. A ruler. Cold, unyielding, and absolute.
Bahador’s expression shifts. Hope dissolves, replaced by a profound grief. But he doesn’t argue. He’d known, hadn’t he? He’d expected this.
“When I’m inside Martysh,” Bahador says with a steady voice, “I will advocate for Izadeon. I will persuade them to approach you and offer a partnership. To forge a bond that can save our people. I will respectfully disobey your order, my liege.” He pauses, his gaze softening, filled with a heartbreaking affection. “My loyalty to you goes beyond duty, Darian. You’re my brother, in everything but blood. But I hope, someday, you’ll understand that you’re not responsible for your family’s sins. A ruler should be guided by reason and justice, by willingness to compromise, not by guilt and shame, or the ghosts of the past.”
He turns to Faelas, and his gaze softens further, filled with a deep, abiding love. “And you, Faelas… your anger and grief are understandable. But it shouldn’t blind you to the reality. I never imagined a life outside Izadeon, a life without you two by my side. Losing a limb would be easier. However, I must do what I believe is right for Izadeon. And I hope… I hope someday you’ll both forgive me.” He pauses, then adds, with a quiet finality, “I will live only for the day that I see you both again. My brothers.”
With that, he turns and walks away toward the waiting Nohvans.Darian remains silent, his expression unreadable, as if he has already erased Bahador from his memory and life.
Faelas, however, is trembling, and his anger dissolves into a deep fear. He takes a step forward, then another, and soon he is running after Bahador. They speak in hushed tones, too distant for me to hear, but the scene is heartbreakingly clear.
Faelas is pleading and arguing. His gestures are frantic and desperate, while Bahador remains calm and resolute, listening with patient sadness. Then, Bahador pulls Faelas into a final embrace.
Faelas freezes, shocked by the unexpected contact, then recoils and pushes Bahador away, shouting something. His face is contorted with anger and pain. Bahador doesn’t react or flinch; he simply smiles—a sad, weary smile—nods once and continues toward the Nohvan.
This time, Faelas doesn’t follow. He stands there, alone, watching as Bahador, with incredible agility, mounts the Nohvan’s back with a single, fluid movement. And then, the Nohvan soars into the sky, disappearing into the dawn.
And just like that, he is gone, flown away from his friends, from his home, forever.
Chapter Forty-Two
“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 findingmyself. Findingmy 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. Ihaveto 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 suddenlyknowit with an absolute, unwavering certainty.
