İlyara
"You killed my Taren!"
The words echoed deep within İlyara. Had everyone truly died because of her? Her mother, her father, Taren… The thought settled over her chest like a heavy stone.
She had barely begun to process Veyra's words when the woman suddenly lunged at her. İlyara's muscles tensed on instinct as she braced herself for the blow.
If they had really died because of her, she could not allow their sacrifice to be in vain.
She saw Arın rush toward them, but it was already too late. Veyra threw herself onto İlyara, and they crashed onto the hard marble floor, rolling several times. The Morhenas surrounding the hall could do nothing despite what was happening before their eyes; they remained where they were, watching with their swords in hand.
Veyra quickly gained the upper hand. Straddling İlyara, she found an opening and struck her hard across the face.
"This is all your fault!" she screamed.
The words resonated deep inside İlyara. Perhaps Veyra was right. Perhaps she truly was responsible for everything that had happened. She had torn Veyra away from the man she loved and had even separated her from her own mother and father.
As a few tears slipped from her eyes, she saw Arın trying to pull Veyra off her. The Morhenas… could they really defy Veyra? And for her?
Despite the storm raging inside her, the thought drew the faintest smile to İlyara's lips.
It was almost impossible to believe.
"Let go of me," Veyra said angrily.
Her words affected Arın like an invisible command. He stopped at once. His hands loosened their hold on Veyra and slowly fell to his sides. He stood there doing nothing now, simply watching them. His eyes were fixed on İlyara. The muscles in his jaw stood out sharply, and one hand had curled into a fist so tight that his knuckles had turned white.
İlyara felt the full weight of Arın's effort. He had protected her time and time again and had stood by her in her darkest moments. But this time, the person standing before him was Veyra, and there was a limit to both Arın's strength and his will.
And yet, this time she had come here to save Arın.
But she could not hurt Veyra.
Because she knew that anything that happened to Veyra would affect Arın as well. She had come to understand how deep the bond between them truly was. If Veyra fell, Arın would suffer with her.
And İlyara could not bear to lose him.
She tore her gaze away from Arın and turned back to Veyra. Veyra had surrendered completely to her rage. Her fists no longer even sought a target; she struck İlyara blindly, hurling curses at her between each blow. And yet she was a healer. Her hands were meant to mend, not to destroy. The power she possessed was meant to give life.
Now, however, she was utterly alone among the emotionless dead.
And the only reason for all of it was that İlyara had been born.
İlyara drew a deep breath. Then she suddenly thrust her legs upward, throwing off the balance of the woman straddling her. Caught off guard, Veyra stumbled and lurched forward. In the next instant, their faces were so close they were nearly touching.
Veyra had fallen silent.
She was staring directly into İlyara's eyes.
The moment she realized what İlyara was trying to do, her pupils widened. The fury on her face gave way to sudden panic. She tried to pull back, but İlyara did not let her.
Wrapping her legs around Veyra's waist, she pinned her in place. Then she raised both hands to Veyra's face, cupped her head in her palms, and forced her to meet her gaze, leaving her no chance to look away.
"I'm sorry," İlyara whispered.
The moment the words left her lips, she felt the floor beneath her back begin to slip away. The hardness of the marble dissolved into uncertainty. The walls of the hall blurred, the lights bled into one another, and everything around them began to melt into a pale mist. Within a few heartbeats, neither the towering columns nor the Morhenas surrounding them remained.
Once again, İlyara had entered Veyra's mind.
As she moved through the memories, she sought out the emotions that resonated most strongly within Veyra's mind. Grief... anger... pain that had been buried for years, scarred over but never truly healed.
The moment she felt them, she did not hesitate.
She began to draw them into herself.
The wound left by Taren's death, the anger Veyra harbored toward İlyara, and every loss she had associated with her existence, even though none of it had been intentional... Whatever had accumulated inside Veyra began to pour into İlyara in relentless waves.
At first, she felt only a weight settling in her chest.
Then that weight suddenly grew.
It was as if another person's heart had begun beating inside her own. Grief, rage, and despair flooded into her all at once, so intense and so searing that it felt impossible for her body to contain them.
A pained moan escaped her lips.
In the next instant, she was screaming.
The mental connection shattered abruptly.
İlyara found herself back in the hall. As the hardness of the marble floor returned beneath her, the force of being torn from the memories sent tremors through her entire body. She was still screaming. Directly in front of her, Veyra was screaming at her as well, her grief and fury laid bare across her face.
But this time would be different.
She would not let the emotions she had drawn into herself spill outward.
This was exactly what Elna had trained her to do. She had learned how to control the emotions she absorbed from others and keep them contained within herself. If this grief and rage spread through the hall, the Morhenas could be affected as well.
She did not want to imagine what might happen then.
Her heart pounded wildly against her ribcage. Each breath became harder than the last. Her chest burned as though something inside her were tearing apart.
But she released none of it.
She locked it all within herself.
As İlyara continued to scream in agony, Veyra's voice suddenly fell silent.
Her eyes widened in shock, and the fury on her face gave way to an expression of disbelief. She struggled to break free from İlyara's grasp, but İlyara's hands were far stronger than she had expected.
When her efforts proved useless, she went still.
And with no other choice, she remained there in silence, watching the young woman screaming before her.
İlyara's scream cut off abruptly.
The hall sank into a deep silence, as if everyone had stopped breathing at the same moment. Even Veyra, who had been thrashing with rage only seconds before, remained perfectly still, her eyes fixed on İlyara as she waited.
Through the tears streaming down her face, İlyara looked at her. Her lips parted several times. She wanted to say something. But the burning in her throat would not allow it. Each attempt to speak only made the pain worse.
At last, she gave up.
What could she possibly say?
Her fingers slowly loosened, and she released Veyra. Before İlyara's hands had fully fallen away, Number Two rushed forward. He carefully pulled Veyra off her and carried her several steps back.
At the same time, the Morhenas surrounding them sprang into motion. The swords they already held in their hands were thrust forward in unison, and dozens of sharpened blades were suddenly aimed at İlyara. In the suffocating silence of the hall, the only sound was the faint metallic scrape of armor shifting.
İlyara lay motionless on the marble floor. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and every breath made the raw burning in her throat more intense.
From the corner of her eye, she looked at Arın.
His brows were drawn together.
It was still one of the expressions she had not grown used to seeing on his face.
A faint, exhausted smile touched her lips.
She let her head sink back and stared up at the ceiling. The intricate stonework high above her blurred before her eyes. After a few seconds, her eyelids grew heavy, and she slowly closed them.
She could die in peace now.
There was nothing more she could do.
If she died here...
Who would even come looking for her?
"Stop," Veyra said.
Her voice cut through the heavy silence of the hall, and İlyara opened her eyes once more. Her vision was still blurred, but she could make out Arın pulling at the Morhenas from behind, as if trying to keep them away from her. At Veyra's single command, they all froze where they stood.
"Let her go."
At Veyra's command, the swords aimed at İlyara were withdrawn at once.
Still unable to fully comprehend what was happening, İlyara slowly pushed herself upright. The weight of the emotions she had drawn into herself had not yet left her body; her hands, her legs, even her breathing were still trembling uncontrollably. She remained seated for a few seconds, trying to steady her breaths.
Arın stepped silently behind her and slipped his arms beneath hers, lifting her gently to her feet. The cold touch of his hands spread over the pain still burning in her chest like cool water. Without realizing it, İlyara leaned into him and closed her eyes once more.
At that moment, she felt a brief, faint vibration in Arın's chest.
A heartbeat.
İlyara's eyes flew open in shock, but she said nothing. It had been only a single beat—so fleeting that she was not even certain it had truly happened.
Because the dead did not have beating hearts.
When she lifted her head, she saw Veyra watching her with a guarded expression. Slowly, İlyara stepped away from Arın and began walking toward her.
With every step she took, the Morhenas moved instinctively in front of Veyra, positioning themselves between them as if to shield her.
"V…"
The pain in her throat cut the word short. She swallowed, cleared her throat, and tried again.
"Veyra."
Her voice was so hoarse that she could not be sure Veyra had heard her.
Even so, the Morhenas slowly stepped aside.
Veyra was seated on the floor, leaning against Number Two. For the first time, the hardness in her face had broken, replaced by an expression of exhaustion and vulnerability.
İlyara stopped a few steps in front of her.
"I took the pain I caused from you…"
A violent cough interrupted her words. She paused to catch her breath before continuing.
"You are no longer a prisoner of your power. Please... become the healer you once were again."
Her voice trembled, and her eyes filled with tears.
"This was the only thing I could do."
Without waiting any longer, she turned and walked toward Arın.
As always, Arın stood perfectly still. His hand was wrapped so tightly around the hilt of his sword that the outlines of his knuckles stood out sharply.
İlyara stopped directly in front of him. She raised her hand and placed it over his chest, where his heart should have been.
"You're free of me now," she said with a tired but sincere smile. "I won't follow you anymore."
She cleared her throat; her voice was nearly gone.
As Arın listened to her, his grip on the hilt tightened even more.
İlyara slowly lowered her hand and laid her fingers over the hand gripping his sword. Gently, she closed both of her hands around his.
For a brief moment, their eyes locked.
"Goodbye."