The irritating light that caught her eye woke her up. The moment she cracked her eyelids open, it felt as if the brightness stabbed straight into her brain. For a while, she stared around with empty eyes. Her head was throbbing. She tried to remember why she wasn't at home—why she was in the forest, lying on cold ground beneath a tree.
She had crashed. She had been trying to find the farm. And most importantly… she might have a concussion.
As she slowly got to her feet, the world spun. Her stomach twisted. She steadied herself by gripping the rough trunk beside her. The bark was cold. The moment she felt that chill beneath her fingertips, a shiver ran through her.
When she realized how massive the tree was, she couldn't believe it. It had to be ancient—its trunk was enormous. For a second, she wanted to wrap her arms around it. But she didn't.
Then she looked around and saw how the old tree's roots had spread everywhere. In that moment, she felt a strange admiration for it. It was magnificent. It bore burns and scars, but somehow, they only made it look even more grand. This time, she couldn't resist—she hugged it.
For a brief moment, she felt as if she were home… in the place she had been longing for all those years. As the thought settled in her chest, a single tear slipped down her cheek.
She wiped it away and forced herself to pull back, quickly regaining control. She stepped away from the tree, looked at it one last time, and smiled. Then she started walking.
After a while, she saw an opening. The dirt road was there.
She quickened her steps with relief. Her heart sped up as if whispering, finally. She began walking along the road, hoping she would run into someone.
The moment she reached the dirt road, a carriage rushed past her.
İlyara froze in place.
A carriage?
She had never once come across anyone using a carriage here. The sight unsettled her for a moment, but she didn't dwell on it too much. Rich people never made sense anyway.
With the horses' mournful neighing, the carriage suddenly came to a stop.
İlyara narrowed her eyes. When she looked more carefully, she realized the carriage was luxurious. It was matte black, edged in gold. There was something like an emblem on the door, but she couldn't make it out clearly.
A man stepped down from the carriage.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired… He wore something like a uniform. Its colors matched the carriage: matte black and gold. There were markings on his sleeve like ranks. And on his left side, she saw a sword.
İlyara thought, they might be coming back from a graduation ceremony… or preparing for some kind of show…
But before the thought could fully form, an angry woman's voice rose from inside the carriage.
"Walk home!"
The sound echoed through the forest. Birds perched in the trees scattered in fear.
The man brought a hand to his stomach and bowed like a servant.
"As you command…" he said in a flat, emotionless tone.
His voice was deep and unsettling. The back of İlyara's neck went cold. For a moment, she felt as if he had looked directly at her.
A freezing shiver slid down her spine.
For a while, the carriage didn't move.
Then the woman's voice rose again. This time, it wasn't sharp—just tired, as if she was sick of it.
"Take care of them too!"
The door shut. And the carriage… sped away.
Just then, a man lunged at the uniformed one from between the trees.
İlyara's heart nearly stopped.
The uniformed man seemed to have known he was there all along. He didn't flinch. Instead, he deflected the attack with practiced ease—like this was something he had dealt with countless times, like it was part of his daily routine.
Another figure appeared behind him and ran straight at him.
The rest was pure horror.
The uniformed man cut down the attacker in front of him with a single sword strike, then turned and dealt with the other.
Within seconds, both attackers lay motionless.
İlyara stood there, only watching what was happening. She couldn't move—not even a little. Her heartbeat rose so loudly it felt like it would deafen her.
The uniformed man turned toward her.
The moment their eyes met, a shiver crawled through her again. For some reason, she felt it every time she looked at him.
Those eyes… were blank. Emotionless.
She quickly lowered her gaze to her hands.
Blood was dripping onto the ground from the sword she was holding. İlyara blinked hard for a moment.
The sword she was holding…
When had she taken it?
No!
The sword was in the uniformed man's hand. But in that moment… it felt as if the blood was on her hands.
The feeling burned inside her.
"Mo- mo- morhena…" a voice stammered behind her.
İlyara flinched at the sudden sound, then slowly turned.
She saw that there was someone else besides the attackers.
And he was right behind her.
Was he going to grab her?
Or kill her?
Fear swelled inside İlyara. Her chest tightened. Her breath grew shallow.
Without taking his eyes off the uniformed man, the stranger spoke in a trembling voice.
"Th- th- there's a morhena here?"
The sword slipped from his shaking hands, striking into the dirt road before falling.
He started running without even looking back.
The wind whipped İlyara's hair into her face. When she brushed it aside, she saw the uniformed man throw the fleeing man to the ground.
How had he gotten there so fast?
Even from where she stood, the distance was clear—how had he caught someone running at full speed?
The man on the ground began to sob.
"Please… forgive me. I- I didn't know. I- I didn't know it was you," he cried.
The uniformed man didn't react.
He slowly raised his sword.
Fear spread through the air.
"I have children. I had to do this because of my debts," the man pleaded through hiccups.
Without saying a word, the uniformed man lifted the bloodstained blade.
Fear and a crushing wave of regret slammed into İlyara.
And then…
In an instant, she found herself standing between the uniformed man and the pleading stranger.
Worse than that…
She was gripping the uniformed man's sword hand.
İlyara panicked. She didn't understand how she had moved—or why.
The only thing she could feel was fear mixed with regret.
She felt trembling in her grip. But the shaking hands weren't hers…
They were the uniformed man's.
İlyara stared at him with fear and confusion. His entire body was trembling.
She looked into his eyes. Now that she was close enough, she could see their color clearly.
Gray.
In those emotionless eyes, a tiny spark flickered.
So brief…
So, faint…
Then it vanished, and the dull emptiness returned.
The man on the ground took advantage of the moment and started running.
"Thank you. Forgive me. I swear I'll never get involved in this again!" he shouted as he disappeared into the forest.
The uniformed man yanked his hand free, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped down his stained sword. Then, as if nothing had happened, he began walking toward the road the carriage had taken.
İlyara remained where she was.
For a while, she forgot how to breathe. Even the air filling her chest felt heavy. Her heart was still pounding against her ribcage, the sound of her own pulse echoing in her ears.
A murder had happened right in front of her. She should have called the police.
But her phone still had no signal.
She stared at her trembling hand for a moment, only then realizing her own fingers were shaking too.
Had they been shaking back then… or had it only started now?
She wasn't sure. Drops began to fall onto her hand. She was crying now. She wiped her eyes in a panic. She didn't have time for this.
The sky was growing darker. She couldn't sleep in the forest for another night. Her stomach growled, and her head throbbed.
İlyara looked toward the trees where the man had fled.
Where was she now? What was she supposed to do? And could she still find the farm?
She turned back to the uniformed man. He was still walking away. If she didn't catch up now, she might never catch him again.
Was she really going to follow a ruthless killer?
Do I have any other choice? She thought.
He had to know the way.
She could follow him until she reached some kind of settlement. He hadn't harmed her. If anything, he had indirectly saved her from being attacked.
But she couldn't trust him.
Thankfully, she didn't need trust…
She needed a guide.
As she slowly pushed herself to her feet, her head spun again. She stood still for a moment, waiting until she felt steady enough to move.
Then she noticed the bodies lying on the ground.
They looked like shapeless shadows thrown across the dirt. Blood had soaked into the earth—dark, heavy, and nearly black. Leaves stirred faintly in the wind, one or two of them drifting down onto the corpses.
One of the faces caught her attention.
His eyes were open. Dull and unmoving… as if he were still staring at something.
İlyara found herself looking into those eyes.
She searched for a feeling. A trace. Even the smallest fragment.
But there was nothing.
Normally, when she looked at people, she could feel their emotions.
But she had never looked at a dead person before.
These eyes made her feel emptiness.
And it was an emptiness so vast that İlyara's insides turned to ice. That void felt as if it could reach into her and pull something out of her. As if those eyes were showing her nothingness itself.
Her throat went dry. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She stepped back.
Then another step.
She tore her gaze away from the corpse. Then she lifted her head and looked toward the uniformed man, watching him disappear farther and farther ahead.
His silhouette was melting into the trees.
İlyara knew that following him was madness.
But staying here…
Staying beside these bodies, inside this emptiness…
Was even worse.
She drew in a deep breath and whispered to herself,
"I… shouldn't have seen this."
She started walking.
Then she broke into a run, as fast as she could.
When she reached a certain distance, she slowed and kept it—following him from afar.
The uniformed man knew he was being followed.
But he didn't care.
And together, they kept walking through the deserted forest.