Chapter XV begins with a confession that strips away pride and pretense, as the protagonist recounts the entirety of his journey to a woman whose hardened exterior conceals a warm heart. His tale of otherworldly arrival, unspoken devotion, and the hazards faced alongside Heru is received not with skepticism but with compassion. Her expression softens, her emotions breaking through the surface as she pledges her support with conviction that stuns him. This act of trust and kindness, given so freely, rekindles hope in a man who had nearly surrendered to despair. For once, assistance does not come with conditions—it comes from shared humanity and the inexplicable magic of love’s urgency. Her suggestion to seek the help of her husband, a man with influence among ferrymen, becomes more than advice; it becomes a lifeline. The protagonist, moved and determined, prepares himself to seize this narrow window of opportunity.

The preparation is swift but not careless. A modest meal is shared, offering a moment of peace before plunging back into uncertainty. Though the plan is hasty, it feels destined, as if every event from the past days led to this point. The protagonist listens carefully to strategies and warnings, internalizing every detail that may aid his journey into Ar-hap’s stronghold. The night is quiet but heavy with meaning as he follows the fisherman through narrow paths toward the riverside. There, a stout boat waits like a silent ally, ready to drift through the estuary’s dark waters toward peril and hope alike. He boards with quiet resolve, bolstered not just by purpose but by the unexpected humanity found in strangers willing to risk for love. The boat pushes off, and with it, a new chapter begins, one defined not by chance but by chosen courage.

As the oars glide through the black water, each stroke pulls him closer to what may be a confrontation or a negotiation—but in any case, a reckoning. The river reflects the stars, a silent reminder of the vast unknown from which he came and the uncertain future that lies ahead. Reflection is impossible to avoid in such solitude; the stillness forces him to face his own fears and question the measure of his own resolve. But the image of Heru—her voice, her grace, her unjust captivity—chases away hesitation. For her, there can be no retreat. He has become more than a visitor to Mars. He has become part of its destiny, woven into its fate through ties of affection and daring.

Though doubt still lingers at the edges of his mind, it no longer holds him prisoner. The kindness received from the fisherman’s wife and the risk her husband takes for a stranger prove that even in a world so alien, trust and loyalty endure. It’s not grand armies or legendary swords that move the world forward—it’s these small acts of belief, multiplied by those brave enough to act. These people had no obligation to him, yet they offered a chance, however slim, because they saw something in him worth backing. That kind of faith creates its own gravity. And as the boat disappears into the shadows upriver, he knows that the journey ahead will test him more than ever before.

At the heart of the coming challenge lies not just a battle for Heru’s freedom, but for his own place in this strange world. Every culture has its gatekeepers, and Ar-hap is one cloaked in both barbarism and contradiction. Yet even the fiercest rulers have blind spots—honor, vanity, or the fear of losing face. These must be found and used if diplomacy is to have any hope of success. Otherwise, force or flight may be the only options left. Still, even now, the protagonist doesn’t picture himself a hero. He’s simply a man who refuses to let love be decided by fate alone. And for that alone, he rows forward—not as a conqueror, but as someone who dares to believe he can make a difference.