İlyara – POV
She rode quickly through the dark forest, never once looking back, pushing the horse as fast as it would go. Only one thought filled her mind: returning home. The only way to do that was to reach the tree—at least, she believed so.
She still could not forget that voice.
Dad…
At the thought, tears slipped down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away, a mix of anger and regret rising within her, but it was useless—the tears would not stop.
She tightened her grip on the reins and glanced back. The town was no longer visible.
Good, she thought.
She rode for several more hours before the horse's breathing grew heavy, forcing her to stop. She halted beside a small pool of water and slowly climbed down from the saddle.
It was very dark, but the half-moon hung in the sky, its pale light reflecting off the water and spreading softly through the clearing. For a moment, she almost smiled—until she realized it and struck her bleeding knee.
"Ahh!" she groaned in pain.
The horse flinched.
She could not smile after leaving a child without a father. She had no right. She herself had been an orphan; she knew too well what it meant to be alone in the world.
She wished she didn't.
Maybe then everything would have been easier—forgetting would have been easier.
But what did she expect to happen once she reached that tree? Would she truly be able to forget what had happened?
She didn't know. She couldn't think about that now. She needed to focus on a single goal.
She let the horse drink its fill, and just as she was about to set off again, she heard a sound from between the trees.
Her attention snapped toward the darkness, her heart quickening for a moment.
"So what now, İlyara? Are you scared?" she murmured to herself.
She almost smiled at that.
Let whatever was going to happen happen—even death. Who would care anyway? If the tree failed, there would be nowhere left for her to go.
She pulled her gaze away from the darkness and mounted the horse again, using the moonlight to find the path she had come from.
And she left that darkness behind.
---
She had been on the road for days, stopping only long enough for the horse to rest and drink. As for herself, she survived on nothing but water and no longer cared about the hunger—but how much longer could her body endure it?
The horse's hoof suddenly caught on something, and they nearly fell together. When she tried to urge it forward again, the animal reared violently, throwing İlyara to the ground.
"Ah!" she groaned in pain.
She watched the horse run off into the depths of the forest.
"Yes! Go then!" she shouted after it.
Slowly, she tried to get to her feet. Her whole body ached, and she limped slightly.
"Damn it," she muttered.
Then she noticed what the horse had stumbled over, and her eyes widened.
Roots.
She had arrived.
It had always been these cursed roots.
She began following them, choosing each step carefully to avoid tripping, checking where she placed her foot before moving forward. She continued like this for a while.
At last, it stood before her.
That cursed tree.
It rose in the middle of the forest, towering above everything, as if it carried no regret at all.
At the thought, the corner of İlyara's mouth lifted slightly.
She stood there for a moment, staring at the tree. The moon seemed almost to serve it, bathing the cursed thing in pale light.
İlyara's hands began to tremble. When she looked down at them, she gave a bitter smile, then stepped toward the tree, each movement careful and deliberate.
There it was—right in front of her.
She slowly lifted her gaze from the roots to the top. For a tree, it looked impossibly strong.
She fixed her eyes on its trunk.
"Why?" she whispered.
A tear slipped from her eye and fell softly onto the roots.
"Why!" she shouted.
The birds in the branches burst into flight, and something stirred within the bushes.
İlyara clenched her hand into a fist and struck the trunk.
"Take me back home," she said quietly. "Please… take me back."
She rested her forehead against the bark, her tears continuing to fall onto the roots.
"Tell me what I have to do," she said. "As long as I can return… I'll do it."
But there was no answer.
İlyara struck the tree again in anger.
"Now I understand," she said. "Yes… now I understand."
She ran her hand across the scars on the trunk. "Were these blows made by people you trapped here like me?" she asked.
There was still no answer.
She drove another punch into the bark. "Come on, say something!" she shouted.
Then she looked down at her hands.
"Could this power destroy you too?" she asked, a faint smile forming on her lips.
Black smoke began to rise from her hands. İlyara flinched for a moment.
"Good," she whispered.
"Ahh!" she cried as she struck the tree again and again, her blows relentless. Blood ran from her knuckles, but she didn't care—she felt nothing but anger.
She was going to destroy that tree.
When she realized her fists were useless, she began kicking the trunk instead.
But… nothing happened.
İlyara turned her back to the tree and leaned against it, then slowly slid down until she was sitting on the ground.
The sky was beginning to brighten.
She heard a faint crack and turned toward the sound. A silhouette stood beneath the tree.
She didn't care what it was.
Her eyes were growing heavy, her heartbeat weakening.
I hope I die, she thought.
And she closed her eyes.
The silhouette stepped closer.