Chap­ter IV thrusts Thu­via into the clutch­es of cap­tors whose motives remain cloaked behind false ban­ners and half-spo­ken threats. At first, she sees the mark­ings of Dusar and braces for hos­til­i­ty. But the insignia of Heli­um offers a fleet­ing glim­mer of hope—perhaps these men are allies. That illu­sion van­ish­es when her ques­tions are dodged, and she is flown to a long-aban­doned city hid­den with­in Barsoom’s des­o­late lands. Once a thriv­ing metrop­o­lis, now it echoes only the whis­pers of ancient fears and Mar­t­ian super­sti­tion. Her shel­ter, a dusty palace carved from crum­bling stone, does lit­tle to mask the chill of dan­ger. As she over­hears her cap­tors plot­ting, the truth emerges—they do not serve Heli­um or Dusar, but a deep­er scheme involv­ing bait, betray­al, and a man who must fol­low. When she is dis­cov­ered eaves­drop­ping, the response is swift and cold. She is left alone, under threat of a fate unspo­ken yet deeply feared.

Thu­via, a princess of Ptarth, has faced per­il before, but this iso­la­tion sharp­ens her sens­es. Her mind turns to escape, yet the loom­ing silence of the city seems to press in on her, hint­ing at unseen dan­gers that walk in the ruins. Sto­ries of white apes—ferocious, six-limbed creatures—linger in her thoughts, mak­ing each creak and shad­ow feel alive. Before she can act, the sit­u­a­tion takes an unex­pect­ed turn. Thar Ban, a green Mar­t­ian chief­tain from Torquas, bursts onto the scene and seizes her as his own prize. He regards her as a sym­bol of pow­er and pres­tige among his kind. Her pre­vi­ous cap­tors attempt to resist but are swift­ly over­whelmed by the brute strength and coor­di­na­tion of Thar Ban’s war­riors. Now in dif­fer­ent hands, Thu­via again faces uncertainty—though in the bru­tal world of green Mar­tians, sur­vival depends on bold­ness more than diplo­ma­cy.

Mean­while, Cartho­ris of Heli­um is only steps behind. His des­per­ate chase had begun the moment her dis­ap­pear­ance was known. At first, signs sug­gest­ed she had been tak­en by Dusar­i­ans, lead­ing him to believe diplo­ma­cy or strat­e­gy might recov­er her. But his arrival at the ruined city brings only silence and the after­math of con­flict. The dam­aged fli­er that once served her cap­tors lies dis­card­ed. The trail grows cold, yet Cartho­ris refus­es to turn back. He bat­tles rem­nants of her abduc­tors in a blur of steel and fire before con­tin­u­ing on foot, his path now fueled not just by duty but devo­tion. Though Mars is vast, he believes her pres­ence draws him closer—each step nar­row­ing the space between long­ing and reunion.

Cartho­ris descends into the rugged foothills, guid­ed only by instinct and scat­tered clues. There, in the red dust, he spots deep, clawed foot­prints and strange drag marks that sug­gest something—or someone—has been tak­en unwill­ing­ly. A sud­den sound alerts him to a stalk­ing banth. But instead of prepar­ing to fight, he fol­lows the predator’s path, hop­ing it has tracked the same quar­ry. His bet is dan­ger­ous, yet logical—banths are relent­less and sen­si­tive to scent. They sel­dom veer from prey unless wound­ed or con­fused. If the beast had fol­lowed Thuvia’s scent, then so too could he. His pur­suit even­tu­al­ly leads him to the mouth of a shad­owy cave etched into a rocky cliff. It seems untouched, yet some­thing about its pres­ence feels delib­er­ate.

Inside, the air is cool and stale, the silence absolute. Cartho­ris steps cau­tious­ly, not­ing sym­bols on the walls unlike any he’s seen before. This place may be more than a hid­ing spot—it could be sacred ground, a for­got­ten pas­sage, or some­thing worse. He press­es for­ward, thoughts of Thu­via anchor­ing his resolve. Even here, sur­round­ed by mys­tery, her image gives him pur­pose. While her loca­tion remains unknown, he sens­es the city’s illu­sions and this cave’s pres­ence are con­nect­ed. These places, shaped by Bar­soom’s ancient pow­ers and present chaos, seem designed to test the strength of one’s will. For Cartho­ris, it is not just a test of strength or skill, but of faith—in his mis­sion, and in her.

In times of war and con­fu­sion, Barsoom’s hid­den cities serve as mir­rors to the hearts of its explor­ers. They ampli­fy fear, resilience, and the need for truth. Cartho­ris and Thu­via, though sep­a­rat­ed by cir­cum­stance and dis­tance, are unit­ed by their refusal to sur­ren­der to fear or fate. While each faces dif­fer­ent threats, their choic­es show par­al­lel courage—his in the relent­less pur­suit, hers in the resis­tance against dom­i­na­tion. The true heart of this chap­ter lies not in the cap­ture or chase, but in how two indi­vid­u­als hold onto pur­pose despite every­thing designed to strip it away. On Bar­soom, sur­vival is often grant­ed to the strong, but peace belongs to the stead­fast.