Arın (Uniformed Man) – POV
While placing a few things into the saddlebag on his horse, his gaze caught on the yellow button on his sleeve. His hand lingered in the air for a brief moment. Then he closed the flap of the bag, but his eyes did not leave the button.
He didn't understand why he was looking at it.
It was an ordinary button.
His brows drew together slightly. He told himself he should focus on something else, yet he found it difficult to look away.
Just then, a sound pulled his attention away. He turned his head toward it and saw İlyara.
He watched her for a while—her movements, her posture… careful not to miss even the slightest change.
She was not a threat. Not now.
As the thought passed through his mind, his gaze drifted back to his arm, to that yellow button.
The longer he looked at it, the more a faint, unexplainable unease stirred within him. He couldn't tell why.
His eyes shifted to İlyara.
"Who was here?" he asked.
İlyara turned to him as she gathered her hair.
"I didn't see anyone—" she said, but her sentence trailed off. She paused briefly.
"...Wasn't it you?"
He didn't answer.
As his gaze hardened, he lifted his head slightly, scanning between the trees before drawing in a deep breath, pulling the air into his lungs.
Everything… was as it should be.
But… who was it?
His eyes returned to İlyara. Her gaze had widened, darting from side to side as if searching for something unseen. Her arms had wrapped more tightly around herself.
What was she afraid of?
"No," he said calmly.
He mounted his horse, then extended his hand toward her. "Come."
After glancing around one last time, İlyara approached him and took his hand.
The moment she touched him, the uniformed man's body tensed and he paused briefly. Then he pulled her up and helped her onto the horse.
İlyara sat behind him, her legs hanging down on either side.
As the horse began to move, she was thrown forward and collided with his back. Her arms wrapped around his waist.
Her grip was tight.
The uniformed man came to an abrupt stop.
His breathing turned uneven.
Something stirred inside his chest. It was unfamiliar. It was not under his control.
This… was an error.
If he could return, it could be fixed.
It had to be fixed.
If his body would not obey, then the source of it had to be taken back to his master as well.
"I-I'm sorry," İlyara said, pulling herself back. Her grip loosened.
The uniformed man set the horse in motion again.
The hooves sank into the soil and rose again, spreading a steady, rhythmic sound.
"Is the city far?" İlyara asked. "Are we going through that village too?"
Then she added,
"What about those monsters?" This time, her grip tightened again.
The uniformed man tensed once more. His hands tightened slightly around the reins.
"Yes," he said. "We will pass through that village."
He paused for a brief moment.
"They are not a threat to us."
"How are they not a threat?" İlyara asked, leaning closer to him.
Her breath warmed the back of his neck.
The uniformed man immediately leaned forward.
"We are not prey," he said.
"Then what are we?" İlyara asked. This time, she leaned back slightly, her grip loosening.
"I am a Morhena," he said, then added, "They won't come near me."
"What is a Morhena?" İlyara asked, her voice lower this time.
The uniformed man felt the tremor in İlyara's hands. When he shifted his gaze to the reins, he noticed that his own hands were trembling as well.
Another error.
"I am," he said.
A moment of silence followed. Then İlyara let out a small laugh. She lifted her hand and lightly tapped his shoulder.
"Why did you hit me?" the uniformed man asked, turning his head slightly.
İlyara released her hold for a moment, but as she lost her balance, she quickly grabbed onto him again.
"I didn't hit you. I just… thought you were joking," she said. Her grip tightened once more.
"I do not joke," he said.
"Then… why do they call you Morhena?" she asked, clearing her throat. "I don't know anything about this world," she added. "Not even about myself…"
Her last words were little more than a murmur, but the uniformed man heard them.
He kept his eyes on the road for a while.
"I was a Yadkan before I died."
İlyara began to laugh, but when she realized he was serious, she stopped.
"Sorry… go on. What is a Yadkan?"
"In Neera, men and women have different abilities," the uniformed man said. "Women can control… and even create elements."
"But I don't use any element," İlyara cut in.
"Yes."
A brief pause followed.
"That is a rare case."
He straightened his back slightly.
"Those who possess this kind of power… are called Alkan."
"Alkan…" İlyara whispered.
"Then men are called Yadkan, right?"
The uniformed man nodded.
"Yes."
"But men do not have a power like controlling elements," he said. "The strength of Yadkan is physical."
"When I first entered the village, I saw men lifting massive rocks," İlyara said.
"Yes, those are Yadkan," the uniformed man replied. "They are physically very strong and resistant to the powers of Alkan."
"I wish I were a Yadkan," İlyara said, her voice lower this time.
The uniformed man pulled back on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop, and turned his head slightly to look at her.
"Why?" he asked. "You are a strong Alkan."
When their eyes met, he examined her face—reddened eyes, darkened circles beneath them. Insufficient rest.
"What do you mean why?" İlyara asked, her voice suddenly sharp. Her hands were trembling. "This power is cursed," she said, quickly wiping away the tear that slipped down.
"No," said the uniformed man.
İlyara lifted her head and looked at him.
"You simply do not have a bond."
"A bond?" İlyara asked, her brows drawing together slightly.
"Yes," said the uniformed man, turning his gaze back to the road. "Alkan are stronger than Yadkan; in fact, Neera is ruled by Alkan. But if that power is not controlled, it can overtake its wielder."
"Then what is this bond?" İlyara asked.
"The more an Alkan uses their power, the more they lose control over it," said the uniformed man, his voice still even. "The bond is what stabilizes it—"
"Will I get worse?" İlyara cut in, her eyes widening, her voice nearly breaking.
The horse shifted restlessly beneath them. The uniformed man leaned forward, loosening the reins before calming it with a brief, practiced stroke along its neck.
"If you have a bond, there will be no problem," he said.
"Alkan form a bond with a Yadkan; by transferring a portion of their power, they preserve their mind."
İlyara fell silent for a while.
"Then…" she said slowly, a faint, ironic smile appearing at the corner of her lips. "I need a Yadkan."
She lifted her head slightly.
"Can't you… form a bond with me?"
The uniformed man gathered the reins and set the horse in motion again.
"I am a Morhena now," he said.
Something stirred again in his chest.
He tightened the reins.
He urged the horse forward.