Hello! Unfortunately, the book cover isn't available, maybe due to the country I'm in. Because of this, I might delete the book. But if you want the new chapters to come faster, please leave a comment and support it. Make sure the book stays here. Thank you so much in advance!
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I was sitting on the counter in the Little Palace's kitchen. Apprentices, servants, aghas, and eunuchs surrounded me. They all stared with wide eyes; the silence hung in the room with an almost suffocating weight.
The dim light fell on the stone walls and wooden counters, highlighting the expressions on their faces: some were filled with fear, some with curiosity, and others seemed utterly indifferent. My trembling hands and racing heart, in the middle of the crowd, created a rhythm that clashed with the stillness of the room.
In the corners of the kitchen, a pot of water simmered softly, a distant stove crackled, and metal spoons clinked against each other… Every sound seemed to magnify in slow motion before my eyes. Every glance, every small movement, intensified the tension and fear.
I sat silently amidst their astonished stares, my eyes roaming the room. I felt that every step, every breath was noticed; even the tiniest motion could bring disaster.
"Why did you bring her? Take her away…!" said one of the apprentices.
"Look at her… Should we hide her somehow?" said another agha.
They all froze; their obedient spirits faltered, and they stared at the agha with fear.
One apprentice slowly reached out and touched my hair, gently holding a lock between her fingers.
"Look at her
red hair, pale skin… How sweet she is," she said, grinning.
"My child died years ago… She will be all of our child. We will protect her from everyone. But if anyone finds out… she will die immediately…" she added in a trembling voice, her eyes darting to me.
"Who will kill me? I don't want to die…" I said, my voice quivering, tears streaming down my face.
They gathered around me; their eyes were fixed on me, their breathing echoing in my ears.
"No… No, it's not like that," said the head apprentice, her voice calm yet firm, though still tinged with fear.
"We will protect her, all of us!" shouted the harem agha. Young, proud, he raised both arms in the air.
Those around him smiled and nodded.
I sat silently, a question forming in my mind: Who exactly are they protecting me from?
"So… what should her name be?!" asked the harem agha, his voice filled with excitement.
The elderly, gentle head apprentice
the highest-ranking of them all
brought her hand to my chin, smiling.
"What is your name, my child?" she asked in a comforting voice.
I smiled back at her.
"My name is Ava, which means bird," I said, trying to sound wise.
"Bird?" the head apprentice echoed.
They all looked at each other and whispered the name aloud.
"My daughter's name is Serpil, let's call her Serpil…" said one of the apprentices.
I looked at the woman with questioning eyes.
"No, it should be Suna, it suits her much better," said an agha.
I frowned and stared at them.
"I am Ava! Accept me as I am!.." I said.
And… they called me Ava.
I knew a little about cooking and cleaning. I grew up in the kitchen; leaving it was forbidden. Yet they all came in just to see me they joked, danced, and talked for hours. They listened, they smiled.
Only two years had passed; I was now twelve.
I wanted to leave the kitchen now. I was bored, suffocated. The strict rule forbidding me from leaving only fueled my curiosity. On a day when everyone was busy, I wondered: should I sneak out? My heart raced as I quickly wiped the wooden plates in my hands.
I opened the door and ran. Excitement coursed through my body; my cheeks flushed with it. At the same time, my heart pounded as if it would burst from my chest, knowing I was breaking the rules. They won't punish me… they won't even scold me, I thought.
It seemed as if someone had entered the palace; everyone was running in a rush, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls. I felt both fear and an incredible sense of freedom at the same time.
The palace had a vast garden. At its center was a long, seemingly endless pond. I quickly hid behind a tree, eyes fixed on the water.
There, a child around fourteen stood, with thick black hair, pale white skin, and a black kaftan. Suddenly, one of the servants shoved him toward the pond. I covered my mouth with my hand; the boy couldn't swim.
"Mother! Help me!" he screamed, his voice trembling with fear and desperation.
The crying and the other concubines made no sound; they just watched what was happening.
The pond slowly swallowed the boy; its dark, cold arms wrapped around him, pulling him into its depths. I stood frozen, holding my breath, paralyzed with fear and horror.
I swallowed hard; I knew a little about swimming. Without thinking, I ran toward the pond and jumped in. My dark red hair spread through the water. I opened my eyes slowly, pressing my lips tightly together.
The pond was deep. I struggled through the water, and there he was at the bottom, lying on his back. I reached out my hand; the corner of his lips curved slightly into a smile.
I grabbed his hand and swam toward the other side. The pond was long and narrow; reaching the opposite bank seemed possible. These were the same aghas I knew who had tried to attack me but now they couldn't stop me.
I pressed on the boy's stomach.
"Wake up!" I said, helplessly.
But he remained motionless. His expensive clothes were soaked, and his thick black hair clung to his face. The silence and the cold water only intensified my despair.
I leaned closer to his face, ready to give him artificial respiration, when a wave of water splashed all over me.
At that moment, I was sitting on the boy's stomach; my wet dark red hair clung to me in the water.
"You saved me?!" the boy asked, looking at my face with wide curiosity and astonishment.
I nodded in affirmation.
"Why aren't you speaking?!" he asked.
"I…" I tried to say, but the shouting from the palace reached my ears.
I slowly stood up and hurriedly moved away, entering the palace; my heart pounded as if it would burst from my chest, a mixture of excitement and fear coursing through me.
"Ava, come with us…" said Zerdal Agha, covered in blood.
"What happened to your face?" I asked, my voice trembling and tearful.
He didn't answer; he just ran. Then, suddenly, an arrow whizzed past us and struck Zerdal Agha right in the temple. His eyes went wide, and he fell to the ground, drenched in blood. He had been holding my hand tightly; in that instant, his grip loosened, leaving my hand empty…
All the harem workers surrounded me; fear and panic gripped my body. My heart was about to burst from my chest, my breath caught in my throat.
"Move quickly! Take Ava upstairs! The new Janissaries are below! Hurry!" shouted the head maid, her voice echoing through the room.
We ran toward the stairs. With each step, the stone floor rang like a scream. The Janissaries surrounding us held their swords, their cold expressions seeming to block our path at every turn.
"Give us the girl, now!" one Janissary demanded, his voice sharp and deadly with determination.
I was breathless; my heart raced wildly, my eyes scanning every movement. The palace's narrow stairs, the shadows, and the gleam of steel around us amplified the fear and tension. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching as if we were facing death at every moment.
"We can't possibly give her-" someone started, but before they could finish…
One of the Janissaries, without hesitation, brought down his sharp, axe-sized sword onto the head of the head maid. Her head hit the ground first, and her body slammed down hard behind it.
"Kill them all! Leave the girl alone! No one will remain in the palace! This is the Grand Vizier's direct order!" the head shouted to the Janissaries, his voice filled with fury and death.
Before my eyes, one by one, everyone was cut down by swords. Blood glimmered in the light, and the clang of metal rang in my ears. They didn't release my hand; fear and helplessness wrapped around me like a heavy shroud.
I ran desperately, powerless, unsure what to do, and entered the room on the top floor. I slammed the door shut, my breath caught in my throat. Outside, screams and the sharp clash of metal continued; the echoes of death filled the dark palace corridors.
I thought of throwing myself out the window; imagining everything would end, imagining it all would be over. I took a breath. Just as I was about to let myself fall into the void, someone kicked me hard. My head struck the ground, and darkness swallowed me.
They had died because of me. They hadn't harmed me; I had harmed them. They could have escaped the palace, but they didn't. They had stayed only to protect me…
A bucket of cold water splashed onto my face. When I opened my eyes, a broad-shouldered man stood before me, dressed in a loose, black robe reaching his knees, his face hidden behind a dark mask. I was surrounded by large, imposing aghas in a place I did not recognize.
"Stand up, child…!" the masked man commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative, echoing through the space.
I grabbed my hair from my face, swallowing hard. Using the shaky strength of my legs, I rose to my feet. Each breath I drew seemed to thunder in time with my wildly beating heart.
"Come to me," the masked man said, his tone cold yet absolute.
I took slow, deliberate steps; every movement felt as though the shadows of the aghas around me were scrutinizing my every motion. As I drew closer, my breathing quickened, and my hands grew slick with sweat.
Suddenly, he gripped my chin with a forceful hand. His fingers clamped over my cheeks, and I searched for his eyes but behind the mask, there was no expression at all.
"Take your sword," he said, his voice as sharp and unyielding as metal.
I looked at the sword; I gripped it tightly between my fingers, then, fueled by a mix of anger and fear, I threw it hard to the ground. The clang of metal shattering the silence rang like a thunderclap.
"You killed my family… because of you-" I began, my voice trembling, but my words were cut short. The masked man's gaze fell over me, a silent judgment that stifled every syllable.
Everything seemed frozen; only my racing heart and ragged breaths remained. The tension was as thick and suffocating as the air in the room.
"You were brought here for me, child. They hid you from me. Now, do not disobey the Master's command," he said, his voice calm yet razor-sharp with authority.
"No! I won't!" I shouted, my voice trembling with both fear and rage.
"Ah! So, you refuse?" the masked man said, his eyes gleaming with a dark threat. "Then, lock her in a room, without food or water, until your mind comes to sense. But before that… give her a proper beating; perhaps then she'll learn."
At that moment, I could hardly breathe; my heart was pounding wildly, and my hands were shaking. The silence hung in the room like a shadow as heavy as death itself. The masked man's voice still echoed, wrapping my veins with fear and despair.
They dragged me, grabbing my hair, and locked me in a dark room. Then, a burly man appeared and grabbed me by the ears.
"Let me go! It hurts…!" I screamed.
But the man struck me with a backhand slap. Pulling me up by my hair again, he punched me in the stomach. I gasped for air; my chest felt like it was being shattered. The pain was so sharp and intense that I felt as if I were dying. Then he hit my mouth; my face was bruised, drenched in blood and pain. After that, he silently left.
I had fainted. When I woke up, I was lying on the floor, just as I had fallen. Days passed.
Day 1: I was covered in blood, hungry and thirsty.
Day 2: I rested my head against the wall; my blood had dried, and my lips were cracked. No tears came from my eyes.
Day 3: My eyes were slowly closing. Leaning against the wall, I tried to stand, but I collapsed. My body could no longer carry me; I was weak. Crawling, I reached the door and struck it hard.
"O…okay!" I whispered, my voice barely audible. I couldn't speak; with all my weakness, I fainted.
I felt a faint breeze and slowly opened my eyes.
"Is the child awake?" the masked man asked, his voice cold yet authoritative.
I scrambled to my feet, looking at him with helpless eyes.
"Give me food!" I said, my voice low and trembling.
He held a chicken. I quickly moved toward him, reaching out my hand to take it, but he pulled it away suddenly. I swallowed hard and licked my lips; the pangs of hunger twisted my stomach painfully.
But the man was merciless. He threw the chicken to the ground with force; the smell and scattered pieces made my hunger even more unbearable.
I slowly lifted my head and looked around; there were many men. They were numerous. Each of them stared at me with disgust; the contempt in their eyes pierced my soul like a knife.
I bent down slowly. With trembling hands, I picked up the piece of chicken lying on the ground. That tiny piece would, at least a little, ease the unbearable hunger gnawing at my stomach.
I tried to wipe off the dirt with my hand. Then I closed my eyes and took a bite. The greasy, cold meat melted on my tongue, and the screams in my stomach gradually quieted. The emptiness inside me fell silent for the first time.
But their gazes… those contemptuous gazes… were heavier than hunger.
"Well done… child. Now take that sword, come on."
I picked up the sword from the ground.
"No, not the sword! First, you must learn to use the bow and arrow," the masked man said.
I took the bow and arrow into my hands. My breath quickened. My eyes fixed on the target board. I pulled the string taut, my muscles straining, fingers trembling as they held the arrow. Just as I was about to release, my fingers slipped; the arrow fell from my hands and embedded itself into the ground.
A laugh rose from behind me. Then another. Within seconds, everyone's voices joined, filling my ears with mocking laughter.
I bent down to pick up the arrow. My palms were shaking. I clenched my teeth. I gripped the arrow tightly and placed it back on the bow. This time, I drew it with all my strength. The bow creaked, veins bulging in my arms. I released, and the arrow shot forward—but it passed the target and lodged into the void.
The laughter this time was louder, deeper, more mocking.
The masked man exhaled heavily. He slowly approached me. Grabbing my shoulder firmly, he turned me toward him. Impatience in his eyes, anger on his face it could be felt even beneath the mask.
Suddenly, he delivered a sharp slap. My head snapped to the side and I fell to the ground. A fiery pain spread through my jaw. My teeth clashed together. I swallowed but even that hurt.
I looked around: the other students. All boys. They stood at the edge, watching me. Some with contempt, some with curiosity. But none of them helped.
Trembling, I got to my feet. I picked up the bow from the ground and straightened myself.
This time, the masked man roared in a loud voice: "Plant your feet firmly! Not too much, not too little… Don't tense up, Ayçil!"
His voice was like thunder, shaking the sky itself.
I got up quickly, my face a mix of anger and disbelief. I whispered through trembling lips:
"Ayçil…?"
The masked man clenched his fists tightly. His muscles tensed, and his eyes glimmered like ice. Then he casually swung his other hand, as if it mattered not at all.
"Yes. That is your new name. Ayçil. Now, don't speak too much… focus on your work."
His words stabbed my heart like a dagger. Something inside me broke, yet at the same time, it began to burn.
I planted my feet firmly on the ground. I held my breath. I nocked the arrow onto my bow. This time, my fingers did not tremble. There was pain in my muscles, but in my mind, there was only one thing: to strike.
I squinted one eye. The world blurred, leaving only the center of the target sharp before my eyes. Silence… even my breathing seemed to echo.
I drew the arrow. The creak of the bow grew, swelling like the rage inside me.
And I released.
The arrow flew… gliding through the air like a bird. Time seemed to slow. Then…
CRACK!
It pierced the very center of the target.
A moment of frozen silence. Laughter stopped. Eyes widened. Every breath caught in every throat.
The silence was deafening.
Ayçil was born.
I stared at the arrow lodged in the target. My chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat streaming down my forehead, mixing with the flush on my cheeks. At that moment… I felt pride for the very first time.
The silence was shattered by the masked man's laughter, booming like thunder.
"HAHAHAH!"
I flinched and turned my head. In his eyes, I saw a cold spark, and on his face, for the first time, a trace of pride. Unintentionally, a shiver ran down my spine, and my lips curved as if tasting that feeling.
The masked man, with his massive frame, turned to the crowd. His voice echoed off the stone walls:
"Even without any lessons, she did it! Watch and learn!"
Then he roared suddenly:
"Let the betting begin!"
The crowd erupted. The noise shook the floors. Dozens of men shouted at once, with a kind of primal joy. They lifted glasses filled with alcohol simultaneously. As the liquid splashed around, the sharp smell of wine mingled with smoke and the scent of blood.
I froze where I stood. My eyes were still fixed on the arrow in the target, but the only thing echoing in my ears was the word: "Bet."
A large, blood-red circle was drawn on the ground…
The crowd fell silent in an instant. I stared at the circle.
Sweat coated my palms; the cold weight of the sword trembled in my fingers. The iron shivered, but it was I who was truly trembling.
The man brought forward to face me looked to be in his early twenties. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a condescending gleam in his eyes and a mocking curve at the edge of his lips… He lightly twirled the sword in his hand, as if it were a toy, not me.
The crowd had formed a ring around the circle. Breaths held, no one spoke. Only the deep voice of the masked man could be heard:
The masked man firmly grasped my shoulders, his voice low and deep:
"Ayçil… You must get him out of the circle. He may be many times taller than you. But remember this: do not underestimate yourself, nor your opponent. If you do… you will lose. Keep your sword directed at him; that shows your readiness."
He folded his arms and stepped back, silently observing.
I took a deep breath. My heart was pounding like it would burst from my chest. I placed my feet inside the red circle. Every step felt weighted.
The man approached. His massive body, cold gaze, and confident stance were intimidating.
I felt a mix of fear and determination; my hands gripped the sword tightly, my fingers sweating.
The crowd's murmur fell silent. Only the masked man's breath and the quiet of the stones marking the circle could be heard.
Then a loud voice echoed:
"May the one who knows how to use their strength and mind win! Let the match begin!"