İlyara looked at the hand Arın was holding out to her. She had no idea what would happen if she took it. Some of the emotions inside her were not even her own anymore. And what would Veyra do? Would she really allow this?
"I'm not sure about this," she said, avoiding his gaze.
Arın remained silent for a moment. Then he slowly rose to his feet.
"Do you want people to get hurt?"
İlyara's shoulders tensed. The question felt like another stone being added to the burden she had been carrying for days. As if she were the one who didn't care what happened. As if she weren't the one struggling with these emotions every day, trying to figure out which of them truly belonged to her.
The anger building in her chest surged upward.
"What would you know?" she shouted as she sprang to her feet. The chair tipped over and crashed to the floor behind her. "You don't even have emotions!"
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She took a few steps toward Arın. He simply watched her. Standing perfectly still, he looked as though he were waiting for an order.
"I didn't mean that," she said, turning her back to him and looking away. "You won't always be here. Eventually, I'll drown in these emotions all by myself."
A bitter smile appeared at the corner of her lips. She looked down at her hands, then suddenly turned back to Arın.
"Look, can't you see it?" she said, holding out her hands. "The black smoke has already started wrapping around me."
"As I said, you can transfer some of it to me, İlyara."
Arın extended his hands toward her.
But İlyara immediately pulled back.
"How much of it could you possibly take?" she asked, her voice turning cold. "Sooner or later, it's going to cover my entire body."
She lifted her head and looked into Arın's pale eyes.
"I'm going to become like the Ancient One."
"You have nothing in common with her," Arın said.
İlyara let out a short, humorless laugh.
"People don't seem to think so." She lowered her head. "And do you even know the Ancient One well enough to say that?"
"I never saw her myself," Arın said. "But I grew up with the legends about her."
İlyara raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Do you remember your previous life?"
Arın nodded.
"I'm dead, but my memories remained with me," he said. His eyes briefly drifted toward the door. "I just can't feel emotions."
Then he turned his gaze back to İlyara.
"When I touched you in the forest, I felt fear for the first time in a very long time. It was... quite strange."
İlyara studied him for a moment without saying anything.
So he really had been afraid that night.
"And the Ancient One?" she finally asked. "What did people say about her?"
"They said she was arrogant," Arın replied. "A woman who manipulated people and used them for her own benefit. I even heard that the Yadkan she had formed a blood-bond pact with eventually turned his back on her."
İlyara laughed.
"Everything you're describing is pretty normal in the modern world."she said. "People manipulate each other every day. How does that make her a legend?"
Arın placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and tightened his grip slightly before walking toward the window.
"What is the modern world?" he asked.
İlyara took a few steps forward as well and stopped near the window.
"The place I came from..." she said, then hesitated. An uncertain smile appeared at the corner of her lips. "Or should I say the place I was sent to?"
Arın tilted his head slightly as he looked at her.
İlyara avoided his gaze.
"Never mind," she said. "What else did they say about the Ancient One?"
Arın remained silent for a moment.
"According to the stories, she could cloud people's minds and turn them against one another," he said at last. "Not just individuals, but entire nations. They say she was responsible for starting the Great War."
İlyara frowned.
"The Great War?" she asked.
"Yes." Arın turned his gaze toward the window. "The war that turned Neera into a sea of blood. According to the stories, it lasted so long that people came to call it the Great War."
For reasons she could not explain, his words sent a chill through İlyara. Wrapping her arms around herself, she frowned.
"Why do you keep looking out the window—"
A knock at the door cut her off.
Who could that be?
She wasn't expecting anyone.
The moment she stepped toward the door, Arın swiftly moved past her and positioned himself against the wall beside it. He stopped right next to the entrance, his eyes fixed on it.
Was he hiding?
Frowning slightly, İlyara approached the door.
"Who is it?" she asked.
After speaking, she glanced at Arın. He noticed her look and briefly met her gaze before turning his attention back to the door.
"She's really here," a young boy's voice said from outside.
"Yeah, but what do we do now?" another boy asked.
Before İlyara could make sense of what was happening, a loud crash rang out. One of the windows shattered, and a stone rolled across the floor. Before she could recover from her surprise, a second stone came flying through the window.
"Shadow of the Ancient One, get out of here!" they began shouting.
İlyara's heart tightened.
Had she been exposed?
How?
She thought she had done everything she could to avoid drawing attention to herself.
Hoping to calm the children down before the situation escalated, she opened the door.
"Stop. I'm not the Shadow of the Ancient One," she said.
One of the boys looked down at the paper in his hand, then pointed at İlyara.
"That's her," he said firmly. "The Shadow of the Ancient One."
He held up the poster for the others to see.
Instinctively, İlyara reached for her head. The moment her fingers touched her hair, she realized something was missing.
Her hood wasn't up.
In her haste to answer the door, she had completely forgotten to hide her face.
While her mind was still reeling from the realization, one of the boys picked up a stone and hurled it at her.
The instant she noticed it, she shut her eyes and turned away.
But before she could even take a step, she collided with Arın's chest.
At the same moment, Arın raised his hand and caught the stone in midair.
İlyara slowly lifted her head and looked at him.
Arın's gaze was fixed on the children. His brows were drawn together, and the expression on his face was different from the calm, emotionless look she was used to seeing. For the first time, he looked genuinely angry.
İlyara found it difficult to accept what she was seeing. A Morhena wasn't supposed to feel anger. At least, everything she had learned until now told her that was impossible.
Arın slowly moved İlyara behind him and stepped forward to face the children.
"A-a Morhena..." one of the boys whispered. His eyes had widened with fear.
Without the slightest hesitation, Arın lifted the stone and hurled it back at the boy who had thrown it at İlyara. It struck the boy's leg. He cried out and collapsed to the ground while the others recoiled in shock.
"Stop!"
İlyara grabbed Arın's jacket and tried to pull him back toward the house. But Arın stood perfectly still. It was as if no force in the world could move him.
The moment Arın turned his gaze toward İlyara, the children broke into panicked shouts and ran. Within seconds, they were gone.
Only the boy who had fallen remained behind.
Letting go of Arın, İlyara hurried over to him.
"Are you alright?" she asked, holding out her hand.
Instead of accepting her help, the boy began scrambling backward across the ground. He seemed more afraid of İlyara touching him than of the injury to his leg.
"Stay away from me," he said in a trembling voice.
İlyara's outstretched hand remained suspended in the air.
People were always like this. They accepted their own beliefs as unquestionable truths and judged others because of them. Just a few minutes ago, this boy had been throwing stones at her. Now he looked at her as though she carried some terrible disease, afraid of even the slightest touch.
"What is that thing?" the boy asked.
İlyara followed his gaze and looked at her hand. Only then did she realize that black smoke had wrapped itself around it.
Panic surged through her, and she quickly hid her hand behind her back.
"Red eyes..." the boy whispered.
Then he pushed himself to his feet and limped away.
İlyara tried to cover her face with her hand. She didn't want anyone to see her.
She walked past Arın and went back inside the house.
Arın remained where he was, watching the boy disappear into the distance.
"Get inside, Arın!" İlyara shouted.
Arın finally looked away from the boy. Without a word, he stepped into the house and closed the door behind him.
"This place isn't safe," he said.
İlyara lifted her head.
"Why do you care?"
Her voice was harsh.
When she turned toward Arın, tears were already streaming down her face. The black smoke surrounding her hands was slowly spreading upward, creeping over her wrists and along her arms.
"Then leave," she said, her voice trembling. Pointing toward the door, she continued, "Why are you still here?"
Her lips twisted despite herself.
"Why don't you abandon me too, just like everyone else?"
Not the slightest change crossed Arın's face.
"You need me."
İlyara stared at him for a moment.
There was no pity in his voice. No attempt at comfort.
It was as though he were simply stating an undeniable truth.