Robin woke to sunlight streaming through massive windows.
For a second, he had no idea where he was. The bed was too soft—unbelievably soft compared to frozen ground and moss. The sheets were clean. Actually clean. When was the last time he’d slept in a bed this nice?
Then his shoulder screamed.
Pain. White-hot. Searing through muscle and bone like fire.
Everything came flooding back.
The hunter. The chase. The arrow. Sophia.
Oh that’s right. I almost died.In that sacred quiet space, Robin’s spirit lifted:
He tried to sit up and gasped, the sound torn from his throat. Looking down, he saw his shoulder wrapped in clean white bandages, his arm in a sling. Someone had undressed him while he slept and dressed him in a simple cotton shirt and loose trousers.
Well that’s not embarrassing at all.He remembered stumbling through the ruins—crumbled, abandoned, destroyed. And then passing through that door into... this. A place untouched by time. Pristine.
Sophia’s words echoed in his mind, gentle as morning light: “This space exists outside normal time. The outside crumbles. But the heart remains. Always.”
The door opened.
A woman entered carrying a tray—middle-aged, with kind eyes and grey-streaked brown hair pulled back in a practical bun. The scent hit Robin first: warm bread, butter melting, honey so sweet it made his mouth water.
“It will be for a while. The arrow went clean through—no major damage to bone, thank the heavens. But muscle takes time to heal. You’ll be recovering here for at least six weeks.”
Margaret gave him a look that reminded him of every teacher he’d ever had—the kind that said sit down, young man, and listen to someone wiser. “You’ll get there faster if you’re healed than if you’re dead. Six weeks. Minimum.”
Robin slumped back against the pillows. “Yes ma’am.”
Margaret smiled. “Good. Now, there’s someone who’d like to meet you. Another traveler who arrived a few days ago. He’s healing from a dislocated knee—about the same timeline as you.”
She opened the door wider and called down the hall. “Justin! He’s awake!”
Footsteps approached—uneven, with a rhythmic thump of wood on stone. A man appeared in the doorway, maybe thirty, with dark hair and intelligent eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He wore simple clothes like Robin’s and leaned heavily on a wooden crutch. His right leg was wrapped and braced from mid-thigh to ankle, the knee completely immobilized.
Margaret brought another chair, and Justin lowered himself into it carefully, propping the crutch against the wall and extending his injured leg stiffly in front of him.
Justin’s expression shifted—something between pride and disbelief. “I got attacked at night. Hunter came at me with a sword while I was sleeping by a stream.”
“Should have been,” Justin said. “But I wasn’t completely asleep. Heard him coming. Had my knife ready.” He paused.
“We fought. Really fought. Hand to hand. I managed to disarm him—knocked the sword right out of his hands. Still can’t believe I did it.”
Robin stared. “You disarmed one of Malthus’s hunters?”
“For about ten seconds,” Justin said.
“Then he pulled a dagger and I ran. Fell down a ravine in the dark trying to escape. My knee slammed into a boulder—heard it pop out of place.” He winced at the memory. “I’ve never felt pain like that.”
Justin’s face went pale. “I didn’t make it alone. Someone found me.”
He leaned forward, dropping his voice. “After I fell, my knee was completely out of socket. I was lying there in the ravine, trying to work up the courage to pop it back in, when I heard footsteps above me. The hunter. Searching.”
Robin’s throat tightened.
“I didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. He was getting closer—I could hear rocks shifting under his boots.”
“Then suddenly, from up the ravine, I heard something. Rocks falling. Branches breaking. Like someone running through the brush.”
“The hunter heard it too. His footsteps stopped. Then he moved away fast—chasing the sound.”
“A few minutes later, a hooded figure came down into the ravine. A woman. She crouched beside me. ‘He’s gone,’ she whispered. ‘Chasing shadows. But we don’t have much time.’”
Robin leaned forward. “She helped with your knee?”
“She examined it—knew exactly what she was doing. Pulled out a leather strap, told me to bite down. Said ‘on three’ but didn’t wait.” He shook his head. “I’ve never felt pain like that. Passed out completely.”
“She’d wrapped my knee tight in strips torn from her own cloak. Stabilized it. Then she helped me stand. We walked for hours through the darkness—her supporting me, guiding me. When we got close to the ruins, she said ‘You’re safe now’ and just... disappeared back into the forest.”
“That’s what Sophia calls them.”
They sat in silence for a moment, both processing what it meant—that someone out there was protecting travelers. Watching. Helping.
.png)
• • •
“You know what’s crazy?” Robin said.
“You fought a hunter hand-to-hand. Disarmed him. Had a Watcher pop your dislocated knee back in and still walked for hours on a freshly injured leg. And I just... ran and got shot.”
Justin shook his head. “Different situations. You had someone with you to protect—that girl, Ariana. I was alone. Makes it easier to be brave when it’s just you.”
Justin’s smile warmed. “Thanks. But honestly? I think we’re both just stubborn enough to refuse to die out there.”
Robin laughed. The sound hurt his shoulder, but he didn’t care.
They talked for the next hour. Justin had worked in corporate tech—middle management, burned out, exhausted. He’d bought his first online course two years ago trying to escape.
“Oh! You’ve actually made money back. That’s good.” Robin paused. “Forty programs for me. Over ten thousand dollars spent. Made back maybe... I don’t know, a couple thousand? Never actually counted the income, just the programs.”
He’d counted the failures once, on a particularly dark day. The number still made him sick.Justin’s eyebrows rose. “And you’re still trying?”
“I almost did. After the tenth failure.” Justin shifted his immobilized leg carefully. “But then this appeared. Time Freedom. And something in me couldn’t let it go.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“I didn’t go straight up like you did,” Justin said. “About a mile in, I sat down to rest on this perfect flat rock—just needed to catch my breath. And from that angle, I saw a side trail going around the mountain instead of up. Would’ve completely missed it if I hadn’t stopped there.”
“It was the strangest thing,” Justin said. “The junction wasn’t visible from the main trail at all. But from that rock, looking at that exact angle... I could suddenly see it. Like it had been hidden on purpose, and only people who stopped to rest would notice. Made me wonder if someone wanted it that way. Anyway, I took it. Easier terrain. And it led me to this beautiful lake—crystal clear water, small boat house on the shore, dock extending out into the water. There was a rowboat tied up at the dock, almost like someone left it there for travelers.”
Robin leaned forward, interested. “A lake with a boat house?” Robin wanted to mention Greyson but now he just wanted listen.
“Yeah. I could see the trail continued on the other side. So I got in the boat and rowed across. Probably saved me an hour or two going around.” Justin grinned. “Not the smoothest rowing—haven’t done it in a while—but I made it.”
Justin’s face lit up. “Love them. My buddy and I used to take his boat out on Puget Sound. Nothing fancy, just a twenty-two-footer. But man, being out on the water...”
“That’s amazing,” Justin said. “There’s nothing like it, right? Just you and the wind and the endless ocean.”
“Once,” Justin said, leaning forward. “We were heading back to port and this pod appeared. Had to be a hundred of them. Just swimming alongside the boat, jumping, playing. It went on for maybe twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it too,” Robin said. His voice got quieter, more reverent. “Wave upon wave of them. The water was just alive with dolphins as far as I could see. It was one of those moments where you just... stop. And realize how small you are. How big the world is. How much beauty there is if you’re willing to go find it.”
Justin nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s exactly it. That’s why we keep trying, isn’t it? For those moments.”
“There was a rowboat tied up at the dock, almost like someone left it there for travelers."They talked for another hour—about hiking too. Justin had done parts of the Pacific Crest Trail. Robin had climbed mountains in the Sierras, pushed himself to peaks where the view made every painful step worth it.
“That’s the thing people don’t get,” Justin said. “The most beautiful spots? You’ll never see them from a car. They’re only there for people willing to make the climb.”
When Margaret came to bring lunch—thick vegetable stew that steamed in earthenware bowls, carrots soft enough to melt on the tongue, potatoes that crumbled under the spoon, and fresh bread still warm from the oven with butter melting golden across the crust—she found them still talking, swapping stories about adventure and risk and the beauty that waited for those willing to work for it.
She set the tray down between them, listening for a moment as Robin described a sunset he’d seen from a Sierra peak after hiking twelve hours.
“You two are going to be fine,” she said with a knowing smile. Then she looked directly at Robin. “You have a gift for persistence, Robin. I can see it in how you talk about these things. That quality will carry you far.”
Warmth spread through Robin’s chest at the praise. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Margaret nodded and headed back toward the kitchen.
Justin reached for the bread. “She’s right, you know. You don’t quit.”
“Yeah.” Justin gave a faint smile. “I did.”
But after this Justin became quieter than usual.
“Fine. Just tired.” Justin smiled. “Sophia’s lessons keeping you up late?”
“Once or twice. Mostly she just checks how my knee is healing.” Justin’s voice was light, casual. “Guess she has her favorites.”
He said it like a joke. But something in his eyes wasn’t joking.
Robin laughed, missing it completely. “I think she just feels bad I got shot. You’re way more impressive—you fought a hunter!” He leaned forward. “But hey, you should talk to Sophia! Ask her to teach you the thirteen steps too. I’m sure she would. She seems to know everyone here intimately, knows exactly what she’s doing. She’d probably love to teach you.”
Justin shifted in his seat. “I don’t know... I don’t want to bother her.”
“Maybe.” Justin’s voice went quieter. “I’ll think about it.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Justin pushed his food around his plate. “I should get to the workshop. Letters to organize.”
He stood, smiled—that same warm smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes—and left.
Robin watched him go, a slight frown creasing his forehead.
That was weird, he thought. Why wouldn’t he want to learn from Sophia? Unless... Unless he doesn’t actually want Time Freedom as badly as he says he does?Robin shook his head. No. That was ridiculous. Justin had fought a hunter. Disarmed him. Walked for hours on a dislocated knee.
You didn’t do that unless you wanted it desperately. Right?But then Margaret brought more bread, and the thought slipped away.
The days settled into a rhythm.
Robin’s shoulder healed slowly—agony to constant ache to occasional throb. The weeks passed.
Two weeks. Three. Four.
Justin’s knee healed alongside—brace gradually reducing, crutch eventually replaced with a cane, then finally walking on his own with just a slight limp that Margaret said would fade with time.
They visited each other every day. Talked about everything. Dreams, failures, adventures. Justin thought more before acting, asked questions where Robin would leap. But they both loved the same things—the risk, the adventure, the belief that something better waited beyond the comfortable life.
Justin nodded. “Yeah.”
Ariana visited less frequently. She was polite, but distant. Something in her eyes said she didn’t belong here.
Margaret spent time with her—long conversations in the gardens, quiet talks over tea.
On the fourth week, Robin was finally allowed to walk longer distances without help.
Robin was heading to dinner when he passed Justin’s room. The door was cracked open.
Inside, he could see Sophia’s glowing form standing by Justin’s bed.
“—and that courage is a gift,” she was saying. “You have it in abundance. But remember: there are different kinds of courage. The courage to fight. And the courage to keep going when fighting isn’t enough.”
Justin’s voice, quiet: “Is one better than the other?”
“Both are necessary,” Sophia said gently. “But only one will get you to Time Freedom.”
Robin continued past, not wanting to eavesdrop.
But he wondered what she meant.
Later, Margaret took him on a tour of the sanctuary.
Massive.
Far larger than the ruins outside suggested.
The library held thousands of books—journals from travelers who’d succeeded, cautionary tales from those who’d failed. The spines were leather, cracked with age, smelling of dust and ink and old paper. Robin spent hours there when he could, reading about people who’d walked this path before him.
Over the following weeks, Sophia visited several more times teaching about Imagination, the power of Decision, and the Mastermind Principle.
Robin spent hours in the sanctuary library—particularly in a remarkable section Margaret had shown him during his fourth week. He had tried to tell Justin much about it. But the words had seemed to roll off his friend like water. But what Robin found there changed everything.
He would think about it for years.
.png)
“The most dangerous traps are the ones that look like rescue."One afternoon during the fifth week, Robin and Justin stood at the observatory on the top floor, looking out over the vast landscape.
“Seventeen... eighteen... wait, did we count that one already?” Justin squinted at the floating islands in the distance.
“Very scientific,” Justin said dryly.
Justin laughed. “Fair enough.”
Robin’s eyes shifted to the landscape below. In the valley maybe five miles away, he could see a settlement—stone buildings clustered together, smoke rising from chimneys in thin grey columns, walls surrounding the town.
Margaret had come up behind them with fresh tea—the scent of mint and honey drifting from the cups, steam curling in the cool air. “Haven’s Rest,” she said, her voice careful. “The town where travelers first arrive. It looks peaceful from here, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Robin said. He could see the inn at the center—larger than the other buildings, with warm lights in the windows even during the day.
“That’s The Iron Gate,” Margaret continued. “Famous for good food and warm beds. The hunter offered to take you there, didn’t he?”
Cold flooded through Robin’s stomach, the memory sharp and immediate.
“He did. Said he’d buy us dinner.”
“He would have,” Margaret said quietly. “And by morning, you’d have been convinced to go home. Or worse, recruited to work for Malthus. That’s how he operates—not through force, but through comfort. Make the easy path look so appealing that people choose it willingly.”
Robin stared at the peaceful-looking town. From here, it looked safe. Inviting. Everything the wilderness was not.
“The most dangerous traps,” Margaret said softly, “are the ones that look like rescue.”
Robin thought about the hunter’s offer. Hot food. Warm bed. Safety. How tempting it had been. How close he’d come to accepting.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For being real sanctuary. For not trapping us with comfort.”
Margaret smiled. “That’s what true help looks like. Not making the path easier—but giving you strength to walk it.”
The gardens weren’t just one—there were internal courtyards throughout the sanctuary, each filled with roses and herbs and fruit trees. The air always smelled of growing things—lavender and rosemary mixing with honey and earth, the scent so thick Robin could taste it on the back of his tongue.
And behind the main house, Robin discovered the animal pens.
Chickens scratched in a large coop, their soft clucking filling the air with gentle sound. Goats grazed in a stone-walled yard, their bells tinkling with every movement. A milk cow stood in a small barn, chewing contentedly, her large brown eyes watching him with patient curiosity.
“The workers tend them,” Margaret explained. “And travelers who want to help during recovery. We don’t ask payment for healing, but most want to contribute.”
She showed them the workshop where correspondence was organized—stacks of paper, bottles of ink in various colors gleaming in glass, sealing wax in red and blue that smelled of beeswax and resin.
“We coordinate with others throughout the islands,” Margaret said. “Those who work to help people like you reach Time Freedom. We send messages, share information, warn of dangers.”
She gestured to the desk. “You can help with this if you’d like. Write the letters I dictate. Organize the responses. We pay a small stipend—two silver per week.”
Robin threw himself into it. Writing gave him purpose while his body healed.
Justin worked too, organizing correspondence by priority and destination, even with his healing knee propped on a stool.
.png)
Ariana helped too, but her heart wasn't into it.
One evening during his recovery, Sophia visited Robin’s room again.
Justin had been there too—they’d been talking about the journey ahead, mapping out possible routes from what they’d learned in the library. But when Sophia appeared in the doorway, her form glowing with captured light like dawn breaking through mist, her eyes went straight to Robin.
Outside his window, stars filled the sky.
“Good. That gives us time.” She settled into the chair beside his bed. “Time to finish where we left off from yesterday.”
Justin stood. “I should go. Let you two talk.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Sophia said gently.
“No, it’s fine. I have letters to organize anyway.” Justin smiled—warm, friendly. “See you at dinner, Robin.”
After he left, Sophia looked at the closed door for a long moment.
Something unspoken hung in the air.
“He is,” Sophia agreed quietly. Then she turned back to Robin. “Now. Let’s review what we’ve been learning these past weeks. Sometimes the most important truths need to be heard more than once.”
“Yes.” She settled into her chair more comfortably. “We’ve covered them all over our time together—some more deeply than others. But before you leave Sanctuary, I want to make sure they’ve taken root. That you truly understand what separates those who reach Time Freedom from those who turn back.”
Robin nodded, pulling his journal closer. He’d filled pages with notes from their evening conversations—Sophia’s wisdom captured in his cramped handwriting, principles that had transformed from abstract concepts into lived experience.
“Tell me about the first step,” Sophia said. “Desire. What have you learned?”
Robin thought back to their early conversations, to the nights when his shoulder still screamed with pain and Sophia had first introduced the concept.
“Not casual wanting,” he said. “Burning desire. The kind that makes you turn around when running away would be safer.”
Robin remembered the terror at the archway. The choice. The two voices—one screaming run, one whispering trust Me.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I chose the ruins over the arch. I chose to keep climbing even when Grayson offered me the easy path down to the Iron Gate. I made fire with bleeding hands instead of giving up and freezing. I—”
“You’ve proven your desire is real,” Sophia confirmed. “That’s why you’re still here. That’s why you survived when so many others turn back. Desire is the foundation. Without it, nothing else matters.”
Robin thought about that for a moment. Then Sophia continued.
She leaned forward slightly.
“You’ll notice Ariana’s desire is not as strong,” Sophia continued gently. “She may choose differently than you. And that’s her right.”
“Faith,” Robin answered immediately. This lesson had been harder—they’d spent three evenings discussing it. “Faith in God. In myself. In the process. In the possibility that success is real even when I can’t see it yet.”
Robin’s throat tightened at the memory. “Making fire. I tried and tried to create a spark. My hands were bleeding. I was freezing. Everything in me wanted to quit.”
“No. I kept trying. Over and over. Just one more try.”
“That’s faith and an affirmation at the same time,” Sophia said, exactly as she had weeks ago when they’d first discussed this. “Speaking truth to yourself until it becomes belief. You told yourself ‘one more try’ when everything said to quit. And that affirmation gave you the faith to persist.”
Robin flipped through his journal, finding the page where he’d written this down. The words were underlined three times:
“You created fire that night,” Sophia continued. “Not because you were lucky. But because you had faith in your ability to persevere long enough to figure it out.”
Sophia smiled. “Yes. That’s the key you’ve grasped that many miss. Faith in God gives you strength to have faith in yourself. They work together. One sustains the other. When you whispered that prayer—‘God, please don’t let me quit’—what happened?”
“That’s God working through your faith. Giving you strength you didn’t have on your own.”
She stood, moving to the window where moonlight illuminated her shimmering form.
“We’ve covered all thirteen steps in our evenings together. Some quickly—like Auto-Suggestion and Organized Planning. Others we’ve explored more deeply—like the Mastermind principle and the power of the Subconscious Mind.”
Robin nodded. His journal was full of their discussions—pages of cramped handwriting, underlined passages, questions scrawled in the margins during late nights when sleep wouldn’t come. Each evening with Sophia had peeled back another layer, another principle he’d heard before but never truly understood until now.
Some nights they talked for hours. Others, Sophia said what she needed to say in ten minutes and left him alone with his thoughts and the candle burning low.
But on the eighth evening, when Sophia settled into her usual chair, Robin didn’t wait for the lesson.
He asked the question that had been building since he arrived.
Sophia’s light dimmed slightly. “The Dark Lord who claims ownership of lands that belong to no one. He cannot stop people from seeking Time Freedom—the path is open to all who truly desire it. But he can discourage them. Make the journey seem impossible. Convince them to give up and go home.”
“Exactly. Dead martyrs inspire others. Terrified quitters convince everyone else the path isn’t worth it.” Sophia moved to the window. “That’s why the Watchers exist—protectors scattered throughout the islands who guide travelers on the true path. You’ve already been helped by one, though you haven’t met them properly yet.”
“Yes. You’ll meet her when the time is right. But know this: you are not alone on this journey. The Watchers see what you cannot. They clear paths you don’t know exist. And they fight battles in the darkness so you can walk in the light.”
Robin thought about the arrows that night by his fire. The protection he hadn’t seen. The help that came from shadows.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For telling me. For helping me understand.”
Sophia smiled. “There is much more to learn. But for now, rest. Heal. And trust that you are protected.”
.png)
Three weeks into recovery, Ariana came to breakfast in the great dining hall looking troubled.
Robin and Justin sat together at the long table, eating porridge—thick, sweet with honey, warming—and fresh bread that crumbled under the knife, butter pooling yellow in the warm centers. The other workers were there too—Margaret, Tomas, Clara, Marcus, Samuel, David, and Rachel.
Ariana sat across from them, quiet.
But she wasn’t fine. Robin could see it in the way her hands trembled slightly as she held her spoon, in the redness around her eyes.
Later that afternoon, he found her in the workshop, staring at a half-finished letter.
She looked up, eyes red. “I don’t belong here.”
“I mean I don’t want this. Time Freedom. The struggle. The constant growth. I just want to go home.”
Something tightened in Robin’s chest. “You’re giving up?”
“And I already know this isn’t for me!” Her voice rose. “I don’t want to build an empire. I don’t want to be a leader. I want a normal job with regular hours and a steady paycheck.”
Ariana’s face flushed. “And you think that makes me weak?”
Ariana’s face flushed. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Robin shook his head. “That’s just fear talking. You’re afraid it’s hard, so you’re running back to comfort. I know you came here for a reason. I know something in you wanted freedom badly enough to risk the journey. And now at the first real challenge, you’re walking away.”
“This isn’t a challenge I want!” Ariana stood, eyes blazing. “Not everyone wants what you want, Robin. Not everyone defines success the same way. And judging me for that makes you just as bad as everyone back home who said I was crazy for trying this in the first place!”
She stormed out.
Robin sat there, frustration knotting his stomach.
He’d pushed too hard. Said too much.
But he also believed what he’d said. She was giving up.
For the next three days, Ariana avoided Robin.
She ate at different times. Worked in different areas. When they passed in hallways, she looked away.
Justin noticed. “What happened with Ariana?”
“I told her she was quitting,” Robin admitted. “She didn’t take it well.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
Justin was quiet for a moment. “You know what bothered me about what you said?”
“You assumed everyone wants what you want. That everyone defines success the same way.”
Robin started to protest, then stopped. “You’re right. I did assume that.”
“I do it too sometimes,” Justin admitted. “But Margaret told me something once: ‘Not everyone is meant to climb the mountain. Some people are meant to help the climbers.’ Both are valuable.”
Robin thought about that. “I need to apologize to Ariana.”
“Yeah,” Justin said. “You do.”
Margaret found Ariana in the gardens one afternoon, sitting on a stone bench and crying.
“Talk to me, dear,” Margaret said gently.
And Ariana did. Everything poured out—the fear, the exhaustion, the feeling of being wrong for wanting something different.
“Robin thinks everyone should want what he wants,” Margaret said. “He’s learning that’s not true. But you’re also learning something important.”
“That it’s okay to want different things. That success looks different for different people.” Margaret sat beside her. “I tried for Time Freedom once. Tried for five years. Failed over and over. Finally realized I didn’t actually want it. What I wanted was to help people. To serve. To create safe spaces for travelers like you.”
She smiled. “I found my calling here. Not Time Freedom. Not building businesses. Just helping. And I’ve never been happier.”
“And you value peace and security,” Margaret said. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Different people need different things.”
Ariana wiped her eyes. “I want to go home.”
“Then we’ll help you. But first, you should talk to Robin. Clear the air. You don’t want to leave with this between you.”
A couple days later, Ariana knocked on Robin’s door.
He was sitting up in bed, reading. “Come in.”
She entered, looking nervous but determined. “Can we talk?”
She sat in the chair. For a moment, neither spoke.
“I’m leaving,” Ariana said finally. “Tomorrow. Sophia’s going to show me the way back.”
“Yes. I’ve thought about it a lot. Talked to Margaret. This path isn’t for me.”
Robin nodded slowly. “I’m sorry for what I said. About you giving up. That wasn’t fair.”
“You weren’t completely wrong,” Ariana admitted. “Part of me is afraid. But Margaret helped me see that it’s okay to want different things. That choosing security over uncertainty doesn’t make me a failure.”
“It doesn’t,” Robin agreed quietly.
“But you were also right that I came here for a reason. I did want something. I was just looking for the wrong thing. I thought Time Freedom meant no more struggle. No more stress. Just comfort.”
She smiled sadly. “But that’s not what it is, is it?”
“No. It’s freedom to choose your struggle. To work on things you care about instead of things someone else tells you to do.”
“And I don’t want that,” Ariana said. “I want someone else to tell me what to do. I want the structure. The predictability. The trade of my time for security.” She paused. “Is that really so bad?”
“No,” Robin said, and he meant it. “It’s just honest. And that’s braver than pretending.”
Ariana’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you. For helping me when the hunter was chasing us. For not leaving me behind. For being kind even when I was difficult.”
“I was. But you didn’t give up on me.” She stood. “I hope you make it, Robin. I really do. You and Justin. You deserve to reach Time Freedom.”
They hugged carefully, mindful of his healing shoulder.
“When you do reach it,” Ariana said, “remember the girl who couldn’t finish the journey. Not because she was weak, but because she wanted something different.”
The next morning, Ariana packed her few belongings and said goodbye to the workers she’d come to know. Tomas, Clara, Marcus, Samuel, David, Rachel. And Margaret, who’d spent the most time with her.
“Thank you,” Ariana said, embracing Margaret. “For helping me see clearly. For not judging me.”
“You’re going to be just fine,” Margaret said warmly. “You know what you want now. That’s more than most people can say.”
They walked together toward the garden passage where Sophia waited. Robin and Justin stood nearby, having come down to see her off despite their injuries.
At the passage entrance, Margaret paused.
“Ariana,” she said quietly. “Before you go, I have a question.”
Ariana turned. “Yes?”
“You said you want security. Regular work. A steady income. A place where you know what each day will bring.”
Margaret smiled. “What if I told you that place could be here?”
Ariana blinked. “What?”
“We need help. Always. The sanctuary is large, the work is constant. Cooking, cleaning, tending animals, organizing correspondence, caring for travelers who arrive wounded and afraid.”
Margaret’s eyes were kind. “It’s not glamorous. It’s not Time Freedom. But it’s steady. Safe. Meaningful. And you’d be helping people reach their dreams even if it’s not your dream.”
Ariana stared at her. “You’re offering me a job?”
“I’m offering you a home,” Margaret said. “If you want it.”
Tears filled Ariana’s eyes. She looked at the passage leading back to her old life. Then at the sanctuary behind her. At the workers who’d become friends. At Robin and Justin watching hopefully.
“I want it,” she whispered. “I want to stay.”
Margaret’s smile was radiant. “Then welcome home, dear.”
.png)
That evening, they held a different kind of farewell dinner.
Not goodbye. Welcome.
The table was laden with food—roasted chicken, with crispy golden skin that crackled under the knife, the meat falling away from the bone in tender strips that melted on the tongue. Fresh vegetables steaming and bright—carrots glazed with honey, potatoes roasted until the edges crisped, green beans still snapping with life. Warm bread that filled the hall with the scent of yeast and honey, butter melting golden across the surfaces, pooling in the torn centers.
They ate and talked and laughed.
Ariana sat among them, laughing at something Tomas said. Really laughing—head back, eyes bright, completely relaxed in a way Robin had never seen her.
She caught Robin’s eye and grinned. “Margaret’s teaching me to make bread tomorrow. Actual bread from scratch!”
The excitement in her voice—over bread—made Robin smile.
Not determination. Not ambition. Just simple, uncomplicated joy.
After dinner, she found Robin in the hallway.
“For challenging me. For making me think about what I really wanted instead of just what sounded good. If you hadn’t confronted me, I might have just left. Gone home. Never realized there was another option.”
“Margaret’s the one who offered,” Robin pointed out.
“But you’re the one who made me stop and think,” Ariana said. “So thank you. And good luck out there. I’ll be here when you come back. Whenever that is.”
“I know you will,” Ariana said. “You don’t quit. That’s your superpower.”
The next morning, Robin and Justin came down to breakfast.
Ariana was already at work in the kitchen, helping prepare breakfast. She waved at them through the window, flour dusting her hands and apron, a genuine smile on her face.
And somehow, seeing Ariana find her place made Robin more certain about his own path.
Not everyone needed to climb the mountain.
Some people were meant to tend the gardens at base camp.
Both were necessary. Both were valuable.
Both were success—just different kinds.
Over the following weeks, Sophia visited several more times.
She taught about Specialized Knowledge—finding people who know more and learning from them.
Sophia tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Specialized Knowledge. You’re the one who has it. I’ve been coming here every evening because you understand things I don’t. The thirteen steps. How they connect. Why they matter.” He tapped his journal. “I couldn’t learn this alone.”
Sophia smiled—the kind of smile that meant he’d grasped something important.
“That’s exactly right. And that choice—to sit down, to listen, to ask, to write it down even when you’re tired—that IS Specialized Knowledge in action. Not knowing everything yourself. Knowing who to learn from, and being humble enough to show up and do it.”
She paused.
“Not everyone makes that choice, Robin.”
The words hung in the air. Robin thought of Justin—restless, impatient, always moving, always certain he already knew enough. Justin had access to Sophia too. He just never sat down.
Robin looked at his journal. Pages and pages of Sophia’s wisdom in his cramped handwriting. Questions. Underlined passages. Late-night scribbles when something finally clicked.
Justin’s journal—if he even had one—would be empty.
He wrote it down:
She taught and continued to reinforce the thirteen steps over and over. About Imagination—seeing yourself successful before you are. About Organized Planning—turning desire into achievable steps. Robin filled page after page in that journal Margaret had given him—thick leather-bound pages with each principle becoming less abstract as he connected it to something he’d actually lived through.
But one evening was different.
Sophia sat across from Robin as the candle burned low between them.
Robin closed them.
“You’re at Time Freedom,” Sophia said quietly. “Not hoping you’ll get there. Not wishing. You’re there. Feel the morning. Feel what it’s like to wake up with nowhere you’re required to be except where you choose.”
Robin tried. It felt thin at first—like trying to remember a dream.
He thought about it. Salt air. Elena’s coffee. The particular quiet of a morning that belonged entirely to them.
“Stay there,” Sophia said. “Don’t analyze it. Just feel it.”
He stayed.
And something shifted—briefly, unexpectedly. The wanting, which had always lived in his chest as a tight anxious knot, loosened slightly. Became something warmer. Less desperate. More certain.
Then the candle flickered. The room reasserted itself. And the feeling dissolved like morning mist.
“That,” Sophia said, “is Imagination as Napoleon Hill meant it. Not fantasy. Not wishful thinking. The deliberate construction of a reality you intend to inhabit. Your subconscious mind cannot distinguish between what you vividly imagine and what you actually experience. Feed it success. Show it where you’re going. And it will begin working toward that destination even while you sleep.”
Robin opened his eyes.
He nodded respectfully. Sophia was wise—wiser than anyone he’d ever met. He had no desire to contradict her.
But privately, honestly, he wasn’t sure he believed it.
He underlined it twice. Not because it felt true yet. Because it felt like something he should remember until it did.
Wishful thinking, a quieter part of him observed. Replacing reality with fantasy. You still need to do the work.He didn’t say that out loud.
“The other steps build on this,” Sophia said.
She stood. “Practice it every morning. Five minutes before you do anything else. See Time Freedom. Feel it. Smell it. Let it become more real than the doubt.”
Robin promised he would.
He didn’t.
Not yet. The exercise felt like philosophy when he needed strategy.
But he would remember this conversation.
“Some steps you’ll understand now,” Sophia said gently, as if she already knew. “Others won’t make sense until later. But all thirteen are essential.”
Robin nodded.
He believed her about the thirteen steps.
He just didn’t believe this one. Not yet.
The sanctuary revealed more of itself. The animal pens became Robin’s favorite place once he could walk freely. Feeding chickens, milking the cow—the warm smell of hay and animals, the simple repetitive motions that gave him peace. Tending goats that butted their heads against his legs, demanding attention.
Justin helped in the workshop, organizing correspondence with his healing knee getting stronger every day.
It was during the third week—one of the mornings Justin had joined him in the pens—that Robin’s shoulder reminded him it wasn’t fully healed.
He’d been lifting a feed sack in the animal pen—heavier than he’d realized, or maybe he’d reached wrong—when something seized in his shoulder. White. Sudden. Total.
The sack began to fall.
Justin caught it before it hit the ground.
Not dramatically. Not with any fuss. He just stepped in, took the weight, set it down, and then turned to Robin with steady eyes.
Robin sat.
Justin was back with Margaret in three minutes.
She checked the shoulder, declared nothing re-torn, wrapped it tighter, and told Robin no heavy lifting for another week.
Justin had already finished the feed run by the time she was done.
He never mentioned it again.
Neither did Robin.
But he remembered it.
They ate meals together in the great dining hall with the workers. Simple food—roasted chicken, fresh vegetables, bread, fruit. But after the terrors outside, it tasted like heaven.
On the evening of their seventh week at the sanctuary, they held a dinner to celebrate Robin and Justin’s recovery. The table was full—all the workers, Ariana, Robin and Justin at the center.
“Every person who comes through here teaches us something,” Tomas said, raising his cup. “You two taught us about persistence. About friendship. About not giving up even when your hands are bleeding.”
“That’s what everyone says,” Rachel replied. “But choosing to do it is what matters.”
But Robin noticed Tomas and the others were still looking at him, not Justin. Their eyes said: You’re the one we’re talking about.
Justin noticed too. He smiled and raised his cup. “To Robin,” he said warmly. “The man who doesn’t quit.”
Everyone cheered.
And for just a moment—so brief Robin almost missed it—something flickered across Justin’s face.
His jaw tightened. Just slightly.
His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
There and gone. Like a shadow passing over sunlight.
Then it was gone, and Justin was smiling again, clapping Robin on the shoulder.
“Oh no,” Robin said, laughing. “I don’t do speeches.”
Robin stood, feeling awkward. “I don’t know what to say except... thank you. All of you. You saved my life. Fed me. Healed me. Taught me.” He looked at Justin. “And gave me a partner I can trust. I don’t know what’s ahead. But I know I’m not facing it alone anymore.”
More cheers. More toasts.
After dinner, Sophia appeared once more.
“Tomorrow,” she said, “you’ll use the Magic Book to choose your path. The journey ahead will be difficult. But you’ve learned the foundational principles. You have each other. And you have the Watchers protecting you.”
She looked at Robin. “You’ve come so far from the man who stood at the arch two months ago. You’ve learned about desire, and faith, and persistence. You’ve learned that failure isn’t final unless you choose to make it so.”
She looked at Justin. “And you’ve learned that caution without action is just fear. That sometimes you must act before you’re ready.”
She smiled. “You’ll do well together. But the path ahead will test you. Remember what you’ve learned. And never give up.”
“I know,” Sophia said softly.
Then she faded into the evening light.
That evening, Robin found Justin in the workshop, organizing letters with unusual intensity.
His movements were sharp. Precise. Too controlled.
Robin sat down. “Margaret’s comment bothered you. At dinner.”
Justin stopped. Sighed. “It’s stupid.”
“I disarmed that hunter. You got shot running away. But YOU’RE the one everyone talks about. The one with the ‘gift for persistence.’ The one Sophia visits every night to teach.” He shook his head. “Told you it was stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Robin said quietly. “And you’re right. You fought a hunter with a knife. That’s insane. And brave. And I could never do that.”
Justin looked up.
“Different gifts,” Robin continued. “You think before you act. I just... act. We both have persistence. Just looks different.”
Justin was quiet for a moment. Then nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Different gifts.”
“Besides,” Robin said, “I need someone who thinks before acting. Otherwise I’ll just run straight into every trap out there.”
Justin smiled—genuine this time. “And I need someone who actually moves. Otherwise I’ll just plan forever and never do anything.”
They shook hands.
Robin left shortly after, heading to bed.
But as he walked down the hallway, he glanced back.
The workshop light was still on. Through the window, he could see Justin sitting at the desk.
Perfectly still.
Not working. Not organizing. Just sitting.
His hands were clenched on the desk edge. White-knuckled. Trembling slightly.
Staring at the wall as if it held answers he couldn’t find.
Robin almost turned back. Almost asked if something was wrong.
Then Justin moved, shuffling papers, and the moment passed.
Robin continued to his room.
But something cold had settled in his stomach.
He’s fine. Just thinking. That’s what he does.Still.
The image stayed with him—Justin alone in that pool of candlelight, hands clenched white, staring at nothing.
Robin stood at his window one last time, looking out at the stars.
Two months ago, he’d been running for his life.
Seven weeks ago, he’d had an arrow through his shoulder.
Tomorrow, he’d walk back out into that dangerous world. By choice.
Robin turned. His friend stood there without the crutch now, testing weight on his healed knee, determined expression on his face.
“No,” Robin said honestly. “But I’m going anyway.”
Justin grinned. “Good answer. See you at breakfast.”
After Justin left, Robin looked back at the stars.
No voice answered. Just stars and silence.
But somehow, that was enough.
.png)
Real-World Marketing Takeaway
Robin wanted to sprint to Time Freedom with an arrow wound still bleeding through his bandages. Margaret told him to sit down.
She was right.
Here’s the thing... if you try to launch a new business while you’re still emotionally bankrupt from the last failure, you’ll fail again. I know because I did it. Forty times. I’d crash and burn on Monday, sign up for something new on Wednesday, and wonder why nothing ever worked.
Heal the mindset before you hike the mountain.
The sanctuary gave Robin four kinds of recovery:
- Physical — 6 weeks to let the arrow wound heal
- Mental — learning the 13 Steps from Sophia
- Emotional — processing trauma, building real friendship
- Spiritual — nightly teachings, prayer, stillness
In business, recovery looks like:
- Taking a real break between ventures (not jumping to the next shiny thing)
- Processing what actually went wrong (journal it, talk to a mentor, be honest)
- Learning new skills before you need them
- Rebuilding faith in yourself through community, prayer, whatever fills your tank
Don’t scale a broken body. Don’t launch from a broken spirit.
Rest. Heal. Learn. THEN climb.
After a failure, most people do the same thing: sign up for the next program. Alone. Again.
Stop doing that.
Instead:
- Find mentors who’ve succeeded where you want to go
- Study the people who walked this path before you
- Find a partner whose strengths cover your blind spots
Robin acts first and thinks second. Justin thinks first and acts second. Alone, they each have a fatal flaw. Together, they don’t.
That’s not an accident. That’s how it’s supposed to work.
This one’s important. Read it twice if you need to.
Justin disarmed one of Lord Malthus’s hunters with his bare hands. Hand-to-hand combat. Knocked the sword right out of his grip.
Robin got shot in the shoulder while running away.
But Robin got the praise. The nightly lessons with Sophia. The “gift for persistence.” The toast at dinner.
And it poisoned Justin.
Not all at once. Not loudly. Slowly.
A jaw tightening during a toast. A smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes. White-knuckled hands trembling on a desk in candlelight when he thought no one was watching.
In business, this kills more partnerships than failure ever will:
- Your partner gets the viral post. You get crickets.
- Your partner gets the podcast feature. You don’t get the invite.
- Your partner’s launch crushes it. Yours flops.
- Your partner gets the mentor’s attention. You feel invisible.
Even when you’re BOTH winning, comparison makes you obsess over what they have instead of what you’re building.
Justin valued force — one explosive, brave moment.
The sanctuary valued persistence — forty failures and still climbing.
Both matter. But comparison tricks you into thinking only one counts.
The antidote:
- Celebrate different gifts openly (not just in your head — out loud)
- Define YOUR version of success, not theirs
- Check in with your partner regularly: are we still good?
- Address the resentment EARLY — before it goes underground
Justin didn’t address it. And that silence became poison.
Watch for it in yourself. In your partners. In your team.
Comparison is the thief of joy. And the killer of partnerships.
But here’s the reframe most people miss: your partner’s success is proof the path works. The right response to watching someone beside you win is: if they can, I can.
Ariana isn’t a failure. Lemme say that again louder for the people in the back.
Ariana isn’t a failure.
Margaret tried for Time Freedom for five years. Failed over and over. Then she discovered that what she actually wanted wasn’t to build an empire — it was to build a place where empire-builders could heal.
She found her calling running the sanctuary. And she’s never been happier.
Not everyone is meant to be the CEO. The visionary. The empire builder.
Some people are meant to be the one who makes the vision actually happen. The baker. The support specialist. The sanctuary keeper who helps climbers survive the mountain.
All of those are valuable. All are necessary. All are success.
The tragedy isn’t choosing a support role. The tragedy is forcing yourself to be a Leader when your heart wants to be a Baker.
When Ariana found out Margaret was teaching her to make bread, she lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. Not determination. Not grit. Just simple, uncomplicated joy.
That’s success. For her.
Ask yourself honestly:
- What actually brings me joy? (Not what sounds impressive on a podcast)
- Where do I thrive? Leading? Supporting? Creating? Organizing?
- What would I do even if nobody praised me for it?
Freedom is being honest about your calling. Whether that’s building a business or baking bread.
.png)
Margaret said something from the observatory that I want you to remember:
“The most dangerous traps are the ones that look like rescue.”
Haven’s Rest looked peaceful from up high. The Iron Gate promised warm beds and hot food. But comfort offered by people who profit from you staying stuck isn’t help. It’s a snare.
In the real world, this is the job that pays just enough to kill your dream. The “safe” consulting gig that keeps you too comfortable to take the leap. The guru who charges you monthly for hope but never delivers results.
True help doesn’t make the path easier. It gives you strength to walk it.
So here’s your checkpoint:
Are you at the Iron Gate or the Sanctuary?
- Iron Gate = comfort that leads nowhere. Jobs that drain your soul, gurus who profit from your confusion, friends who talk you out of every risk.
- Sanctuary = rest that prepares you for the next climb. Mentors who challenge you. Recovery that actually heals. Community that makes you stronger.
One traps you. One equips you.
Don’t confuse the two.
One more thing.
Robin wrote down Sophia’s teaching about Imagination that evening. Underlined it twice. Then quietly set it aside — too abstract, too much like wishful thinking for where he was.
He didn’t practice it. Didn’t believe it. Filed it away politely and moved on to something more practical.
He would remember it later. Much later. In a moment when every other tool had failed him and imagination was the only thing he had left.
That’s how it works with the most important lessons, isn’t it? We hear them before we’re ready. We nod respectfully. We write them down to be polite. And we move on to something that feels more useful right now.
Then one day — usually in the dark, usually when we’re out of options — the lesson finds us again.
And this time we’re ready.
So here’s my advice: don’t dismiss the teaching that doesn’t click yet. Write it down. Underline it. Keep it somewhere you can find it.
You’ll know when later arrives.
The Story Continues...
Robin is healed. The partnership is sealed.
The sanctuary is behind them now.
Tomorrow they open the Magic Book and step back into Malthus's world - this time by choice. But the climb to Time Freedom was never the real test. The real test is the road ahead... and the man walking it beside you.
Chapter 9: YOUR-CHAPTER-9-TITLE-HERE
Silver & Scrolls: The 42nd Attempt
Written by Albie Derbyshire
© 2026 Albie Derbyshire. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except for brief quotations in reviews and certain noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.