The old man doesn’t seem surprised by the sudden intrusion of an adult into his storytelling circle. He simply smiles. “What do you want to know about the Nohvan?”
“How do Martyshyars summon them?”
“No one knows for sure. The Nohvans are one of the biggest mysteries in this land. They were never seen outside of the Albir Mountains until the Great War when they aided men against the Daevas. Since then, they have been partners with Martysh. The legend of the Nohvan is truly fascinating. Thousands of years ago, before humans sailed to the Asyrion continent, this land was inhabited by a multitude of animals. A great assembly of animals from all over the continent decided that they needed a king and embarked on a perilous journey to find the legendary Nohvan, a mythical creature believed to be their rightful ruler.”
Great—another fairy tale. I want to leave, but he looks at me expectantly. I don’t want to be rude, so I force myself to listen, hoping this story won’t be too long.
“Along the way, the animals faced countless trials. Some gave up and returned home, while others persevered, fueled by their desire for a leader who could finally unite them. The animals encountered various valleys on their way. The valley of the soul, where they faced their own darkness and light, their desires and fears. The valley of friendship, where they learnedabout each other. The valley of love, where they were tested on their compassion. The valley of perseverance, where they learned to endure. The valley of unity, where they learned to overcome their differences. And finally, the valley of self-annihilation, the ultimate test, where they had to surrender themselves to their cause.
“Only nine creatures endured the journey, reaching the Nohvan’s abode. A bear, strong and steadfast; a sheep, gentle and yielding; a horse, swift and wild; a monkey, clever and cheerful; a tiger, fierce and proud; a stag, courageous and loyal; a lion, regal and strong; a wolf, fierce and cunning; and an eagle, soaring and free. When they finally stood before the Nohvan’s dwelling, they found not a god, not a king, but a mirror. And in that mirror, they saw themselves, clear and true. It was only then that the truth dawned: the Nohvan was notout there. It waswithin. ‘Noh’ means nine, and ‘Van’ means animal in the ancient tongue. The Nohvan was, in essence, the nine animals themselves. With this realization, a transformation began. The nine merged, and their individual forms dissolved; their spirits intertwined, becoming one. They became… the Nohvan.”
The old master finishes his story, smiling at me as if he told me exactly what I needed to hear. I nod, trying to hide my frustration. He hasn’t shared anything useful, just a tale for children.
But as I walk away, the story keeps swirling in my mind. Then, suddenly, it strikes me—an idea so wild it almost feels ridiculous. I’m tempted to brush it aside, but it lingers, knocking on the door of my thoughts, each knock louder than the one before. My instincts haven’t steered me wrong yet, so I hold onto this new thought, letting it roll around in my head. The more I consider it, the more it feels right.
Before I know it, I’m sprinting through the streets, eager to get back to the others. The sun is sinking low in the sky, and the Ahiras and the Aramisis should be back by now, just as Zanyar had instructed.
When I finally reach the stables, I’m out of breath and drenched in sweat. I spot the Ahiras gathered together, whispering in a close circle. Zanyar stands a little apart, deep in thought. That usual serious look is etched on his face—the one that kept everyone away from himin Fire Temple.
I sprint to him. The moment my figure bursts into view, his expression transforms, and a flicker of relief changes his features as if he’d been holding his breath. I skid to a halt before him, chest heaving, lungs burning, gasping for air after the desperate race across half the town.
His eyes assess me quickly. “What’s wrong?”
“I… I have an idea,” I gasp, trying to catch my breath. “To call the Nohvan.”
Zanyar gives me a measured look. “Breathe first.”
I nod and take a few deep breaths. Pippin, Maleed, and Kameel have walked over and are looking at me with confusion.
“We need nine coins,” I finally manage a full sentence, looking at Zanyar. “Nine. Like in the story of the Nohvan.”
Kameel rolls his eyes. “Of course we do. That is the whole point of the trial.”
Zanyar, however, levels a long look at me, realization slowly spreading across his face. “Give me two of your coins,” he orders Kameel firmly.
Kameel immediately reaches into his pocket and offers his coins to Zanyar. I do the same as he takes out his five. Once all nine coins are in his hands, I watch with breathless anticipation, a fierce certainty blooming in my chest that the phantom is but a heartbeat away from manifesting.
But the coins remain stubbornly inert. Solid gold and unyielding, they nestle in Zanyar’s possession.
I feel disappointed. I was so sure. Deep down, an illogical but absolute conviction was telling me that this was the key. I glance at Zanyar, bracing for a look of dismissal at my foolish hope. But his face holds no such judgment nor any hint that he considers this spectacle concluded.
“Where are the others?” he asks Maleed.
“They went to get food,” Pippin replies, muttering something about his own empty belly.
Zanyar ignores him, his eyes turning to me. “We need nine people. Not nine coins.”
“What’s going on?” Maleed demands, frustration etched on his features, clearly chafing at this unspoken understanding between Zanyar and me that he is not included in.
But I pay him no heed. I know exactly what Zanyar means, and my heart beats with excitement again.
“Have you seen any other contenders around?” I ask Pippin, trying to sound calmer than I feel.
“Hey, hey, little wolf,” a familiar, booming voice breaks through the air.
I turn around and see Bahador walking toward me with the other Izadeonians and Lila. My eyes brighten as soon as I see them. We now have exactly nine people.
“Come over here,” I shout.
