İlyara
İlyara had felt uneasy ever since she left Yitan in that dilapidated woodsman's cabin. She felt as though she should go back to him. Or perhaps the love she had transferred to him…
She wrapped her arms around herself. Now her soul was left alone with dark emotions. What would fill the place of that love now?
"İlyara."
Arın's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Arın had said something while they were fighting Yitan. Did he love İlyara?
He doesn't.
She shook her head as a voice from one of her foreign memories echoed in her mind. She had gradually learned to suppress these voices. But the moment she let her guard down, they would resurface.
She turned to Arın, who was waiting beside a grave.
"Did you find it?" she asked.
Arın nodded. İlyara began making her way between the graves. She had been unsure whether to come here, but Arın had encouraged her.
She stopped when she reached his side.
"You're sure, aren't you?" she asked, her voice beginning to tremble.
"I'm sure," Arın replied. "I asked Veyra."
İlyara nodded and crouched down.
The grave was covered in colorful flowers. Perhaps someone was taking care of them, she thought.
She began running her hand over the flowers. First, she brushed her fingers over the poppies, then the daffodils. When she reached the purple violets, her hand froze in midair.
These flowers reminded her of Elna.
She took a deep breath.
"Would you like us to pull them out?" Arın asked.
"No," İlyara said. "I don't want the flowers to get hurt because of me, too."
"İlyara."
"Why is there no gravestone?" İlyara asked.
Arın first glanced at the other graves. Many of them had gravestones. Then he looked at the grave before him.
"I suppose…" he said, slipping his hand into his pocket.
Arın's movements were becoming increasingly human. It was as if he were turning into someone alive. İlyara was both happy and sad about it.
Was it selfish of her to want Arın to be able to feel again?
"…so that no one would know whose grave it is."
Ah.
Because of İlyara, even her mother's grave wasn't safe. At the thought, a tear slipped down her cheek and fell onto the soil. The earth quickly absorbed it. İlyara brushed the soil away with her hand, as though trying to sweep the tear away from the grave.
Then she stood up and turned to Arın, who was watching her closely.
"Let's go."
Arın held out his hand to İlyara. Though surprised at first, she took his hand and stood up. But the moment she touched him, she felt some of her sadness being drawn out of her, and quickly pulled her hand back.
"Don't do that again!" İlyara said angrily. "Even if my emotions make me sad, let me feel them."
Arın stared at his empty hand for a while.
"But…" he said. "I don't want to see you sad."
"After everything I've been through, I've realized something," İlyara said, exhaling deeply. Then she gently stroked Arın's cheek. Arın leaned his head into her hand.
"I need emotions… My own emotions."
Arın nodded.
"I understand," he said. "I won't do it again without your permission."
İlyara smiled at his response.
"Thank you."
At the sound of applause, both of them tensed and turned toward its source.
"Remarkable," a man said.
He wore a burgundy cloak and carried a cane.
"The Oracle?" İlyara asked, uncertain.
"How did you manage to make a Morhena feel again?" the Oracle asked. Then he brought a hand to his chin. "Very interesting."
What nonsense was he talking about?
Arın quickly stepped in front of İlyara and pointed his sword at the Oracle.
"Who are you?" Arın demanded.
"How quickly you've forgotten me," the Oracle said.
An annoyed smile appeared on Arın's face.
"I remember you," Arın said. "But I don't know who you are."
The Oracle smiled, then looked at İlyara. The smile abruptly vanished from his face. He grimaced as though he were looking at something repulsive.
İlyara immediately noticed the change in the Oracle's expression. His disgust was so intense that she struggled to keep her own expression under control.
Why was the Oracle so disgusted by İlyara?
Then again, why should she care? She no longer cared about what other people felt toward her. For years, she had always thought of others. She had tried to be good, to make them happy, but people had always hurt her. Perhaps Elna had been right. People were ungrateful.
"Why are you here?" İlyara asked, her voice icy cold.
Although Arın was surprised by the change in İlyara, he tried not to show it. But İlyara easily noticed his surprise. She had increasingly embraced this cursed power and had learned to use it better. She would no longer stand by and let herself be humiliated.
What did she have to lose?
"Ha ha."
İlyara suddenly burst into laughter. The Oracle tensed at the sound of her laughter. He tried to smile but couldn't. Then he cleared his throat.
"You're beginning to resemble the Ancient," he said. "Just as in my prophecy… the Ancient's shadow."
İlyara's jaw tightened. The foreign angers within her began to mingle with her own.
"Shut up!" Arın shouted. "Who the hell are you?"
The Oracle didn't take his eyes off İlyara.
"Am I wrong?" he asked her, not even bothering to acknowledge Arın.
İlyara lowered her gaze to the ground.
"Perhaps," she said. Then she looked at the Oracle. "Does that scare you?"
A smile spread across İlyara's face.
"I remember you fleeing the dining hall… You were so… pathetic."
What had gotten into İlyara? Had she always been like this? Perhaps she should be like this. Then she wouldn't have to suffer so much.
The Oracle scratched his stubble.
"I also heard your father died," he said, then smiled.
"The man was free of you."
İlyara's entire body trembled with rage as black smoke began to swirl around her. She tried to take deep breaths. She knew the Oracle was deliberately provoking her. But why?
"What do you want?" İlyara asked through gritted teeth.
"Simple," the Oracle said gleefully. "For you to die."
İlyara froze for a moment. Then she burst into uncontrollable laughter. The Oracle watched her in bewilderment.
"Is this funny?" the Oracle asked, frowning.
"İlyara," Arın said. But he kept his sword pointed at the Oracle.
"Sorry," İlyara said. "There are so many people who want me dead that—"
"Like Yitan?"
The moment İlyara heard the Oracle's words, she tried to push Arın aside and step in front of him. But Arın wouldn't let her and tried to keep her behind him.
"Get out of my way!" İlyara shouted. Then she turned to the Oracle.
"Did you do something to him?" she asked, her voice calm this time.
"He was incompetent," the Oracle said. "He couldn't manage to kill you. Neither could the Ancient."
Then he pointed a finger at himself.
"But I will."