Chap­ter IX places Cartho­ris, Thu­via, and Jav in the heart of Lothar’s enigma—a city ruled not by armies but by the imag­i­na­tion of its few remain­ing minds. They are led into a cham­ber where fear briefly grips them at the sight of Komal, a fero­cious banth wor­shipped as a deity. But what seems to be divine wrath is calmed not by steel, but by Thuvia’s voice. Her steady tone and unshak­en gaze soothe the beast, prov­ing that con­nec­tion, not force, holds true pow­er. This moment blurs the line between myth and real­i­ty. The god is only a beast, and the beast, sur­pris­ing­ly, responds to kind­ness. Cartho­ris watch­es, both relieved and amazed, as Thu­via demon­strates not just con­trol but grace under pres­sure.

Wan­der­ing through Lothar’s strange archi­tec­ture, the group arrives at an are­na once used for sac­ri­fi­cial rites. Jav, ever the keep­er of trag­ic tales, reveals how ene­mies of Tario were fed to Komal. The city itself seems sus­pend­ed in a dream, where ene­mies are imag­ined and pun­ish­ments played out through pro­jec­tions. Cartho­ris strug­gles with the sur­re­al nature of it all—buildings that appear emp­ty but are filled with invis­i­ble cit­i­zens craft­ed from thought alone. Jav explains how the peo­ple of Lothar, once real and pow­er­ful, now live almost entire­ly in the realm of belief. Their minds shape sol­diers, rulers, and entire dra­mas out of willpow­er. Yet beneath that lies decay—no real growth, only rep­e­ti­tion. It is civ­i­liza­tion turned into shad­ow, with mem­o­ry as its only anchor.

Soon, the illu­sion of peace col­laps­es. Tario’s bow­men, sum­moned from thought, descend upon them. Cartho­ris pre­pares to fight, but swords are use­less against pro­jec­tions. Jav, match­ing thought with thought, con­jures his own imag­ined army. A bat­tle erupts between forces that don’t breathe yet fight with full fury. Cartho­ris and Thu­via stand amid this chaos, sur­round­ed by a clash no out­sider could under­stand. It’s not vio­lence of mus­cle, but of will. Jav, though unre­li­able, shows the strength of his imag­i­na­tion, giv­ing the trio a chance to flee. What they run from is not just dan­ger, but the empti­ness of Lothar’s strange lega­cy.

Amid the escape, inten­tions unrav­el. Jav begins to reveal his desire for Thuvia—not as an ally, but as some­one he hopes to claim. In a crit­i­cal moment, he manip­u­lates per­cep­tion, craft­ing an illu­sion that makes Cartho­ris appear to leave Thu­via behind. Thu­via, briefly fooled, begins to ques­tion Cartho­ris’s loy­al­ty. Jav’s plan is cru­el, built on decep­tion and unspo­ken fears. He offers him­self as a pro­tec­tor, pre­sent­ing safe­ty at the cost of free­dom. But Thuvia’s strength does not fal­ter. She sees through him and rejects his advances with scorn. Her loy­al­ty to Cartho­ris, though test­ed by doubt, remains firm. Jav’s world of illu­sion offers com­fort, but it can­not hide his self-serv­ing motives.

As Thu­via turns away from him, the dis­tance between truth and fic­tion becomes clear­er. The pow­er of Lothar’s peo­ple lies in craft­ing real­i­ty from thought, but that same pow­er cor­rupts when used with­out con­science. Jav’s obses­sion is not love, but pos­ses­sion dis­guised as admi­ra­tion. Mean­while, Cartho­ris, unaware of the illu­sion that has sep­a­rat­ed them, rush­es through the ruins, con­vinced Thu­via chose to remain behind. The weight of that assump­tion lingers in his chest. He doesn’t blame her but mourns what he believes to be her choice. And yet, even in sep­a­ra­tion, both hearts remain tied to the same purpose—survival, and the hope of reunion.

The deep­er theme of this chap­ter lies in the fragili­ty of per­cep­tion. On Bar­soom, what one believes can shape the world, but that same belief can also deceive. Lothar is a city that sur­vives on imag­i­na­tion, yet it is slow­ly van­ish­ing because noth­ing real is left to sus­tain it. Jav’s illu­sions are pow­er­ful but hol­low. Cartho­ris and Thu­via, in con­trast, are ground­ed in pur­pose and con­nec­tion. Their bond, though strained, has been built through shared dan­ger and mutu­al respect—not mag­ic. In a world where fan­ta­sy can be mis­tak­en for truth, their choic­es reaf­firm the strength of clar­i­ty.

As the chap­ter con­cludes, the com­pan­ions are no longer unit­ed. Thu­via remains trapped in a web of decep­tion, while Cartho­ris fights for­ward, unaware of the truth. Jav, despite his pow­ers, finds him­self reject­ed, his illu­sions fail­ing to give him the con­trol he craves. Lothar, for all its grandeur, becomes a sym­bol of what hap­pens when a soci­ety replaces progress with mem­o­ry. It is not evil, but lost—trapped in a dream that no longer serves those who cre­at­ed it. Thu­via and Cartho­ris must now nav­i­gate not just ter­rain, but mis­un­der­stand­ing and dan­ger shaped by the minds around them. And in doing so, they learn that love and courage can only grow where illu­sion is cast aside.