Twelfth Chapter: The Third Jarat War
One year later.
Deep night.
Since the night of Barzak's disappearance, Bahar had thought every day—that shadow was her imagination, that voice a trick of the wind.
Barzak, her Barzak… dead.
Pure silence surrounded the vast room. As if the entire world had exhaled and paused.
Beneath Bahar's feet, the soft scent of a mat; in the air, the faint smell of a burning candle—its wisp of smoke walking lightly through the air.
In the sleep-laden breeze, the night was lifeless, lonely, and excessively quiet. As if all of nature had held its breath.
Not a single bird could be heard, distant mountains capped with heavy, stagnant clouds.
Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the clouds, casting a kind of unearthly bluish glow on the ancient stone floor of the palace.
Queen Bahar, who had spent every night for a year in silent weeping, rose today out of habit.
For a glass of water.
Signs of fatigue marked her eyes, depth lined her cheeks—but her face still held a kind of noble beauty of pain.
The silence around seemed to have accumulated into an invisible weight.
Bahar descended the stairs slowly, shadows of sleep in her eyes. She gripped the metal railing as she went down. Only a glass of water, then back to the silent bed.
Her feet made soft sounds on the wooden steps.
The old, slumbering palace seemed silently to watch her as she moved.
Sleep shadows lingered in Bahar's eyes.
The sky was starless. Outside the window, the night was like black ink painting an unknown future.
Inside the room, the silence was such that even the cracks in the walls seemed to make sound. The stillness had thickened into an invisible weight.
Bahar had gone down for water.
Her throat dry as wood.
She was heading toward the lower room of the stairs.
Suddenly…
A light.
A faint glow caught her eyes.
Trembling.
A soft, quivering yellowish light spilled through the gap of the room.
Her feet froze. Her eyes narrowed.
Her eyelids grew heavy with disbelief.
At this moment?
Her gaze lingered, in disbelief.
No, this room had been empty for a long time.
No one had been here… dust had settled for ages, locked away.
She herself had put the lock in place.
Then, a thumping began from her chest.
"Thief?"
She thought to herself.
A light tremor ran through her body. Fear gathered in her eyes. She slowly glanced toward the scabbard, then stepped back… ready to call the guard—
A sound, very faint… something fell on the floor.
Her body went cold. Her breath caught. The thumping inside her chest seemed to rise all the way to her ears.
She stepped forward again.
Slowly… on trembling feet.
Her soles brushed the cold floor—each step carrying the weight of centuries. A slow thud echoed across the floor, the walls trembling behind her.
She reached the door of the room.
A wave of heartbeat pulsed inside her chest. Her throat dry. Eyelids heavy. She felt as if she were seeing wrong. The air thick, cold… as if someone's breath fell upon her neck.
She peered through the inch of the door gap—eyes peeking quietly through the crack.
A man.
Inside.
A man.
His shadow danced long on the wall in the candlelight.
He was leaning over something.
Holding something in his hands, shaking. As if touching something very delicate.
Bahar's throat went dry. Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to scream.
Just as the scream was about to leave her lips…
The man lifted his head.
And in that moment—
The light stopped.
The sound stopped.
The breath stopped.
Bahar's world stopped.
In the play of shadow and light, the face was at first unreadable. The man seemed to be writing, or drawing. But the structure of his shoulders, the lines of his forehead, and—when the light touched his eyes—Bahar's body felt as if struck by lightning.
No… it cannot be.
Bahar's hands went cold. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out. Something inside her chest throbbed, wanting to break apart.
Her mind felt empty. Tears wanted to spill, but were stuck in her throat. She stepped forward slightly, but her legs wobbled. She held onto the wall.
On the other side, the man stopped. His hands froze over the paper, and he slowly looked this way.
Eyes met.
A long moment… where everything froze.
"No… this is impossible,"
a voice whispered inside Bahar's mind.
Those eyes. Those eyes!
In Bahar's vision, only that face—the faint mark on the chin… the curve of the brow… the impossibly deep eyes…
A silent explosion occurred—no fire, but the heart shattered.
Bahar whispered aloud—
"Barzak…"
The man remained still, slowly. His lips trembled too—the candlelight glistening in his eyes.
And he whispered…
"Bahar…"
At the utterance of that single name, the entire palace seemed to tremble. Bahar felt as if she were no longer standing on the ground. The world beneath her feet ceased to exist.
Such a name is not spoken so easily, nor in such a broken voice. It carried the weight of a year of tears. It carried the burden of a lifetime of shattered dreams.
Two bodies. Two souls. Who had each thought the other was dead. Two shadows—one seeking the light.
Bahar trembled. She stepped inside slowly. Her vision blurred with tears.
Then she ran.
Silent, soundless. Her hair flying in the air, her gown trailing behind. She ran. No fear, no pain remained, only that face. Her feet seemed reluctant, but her heart propelled her forward.
Barzak rose to meet her, just in time…
And Bahar ran into his chest, burying her face.
Both of them were swept by a tide—memories, pain, betrayal, hope—everything eclipsed by something rising within. They stumbled into each other's embrace.
Bahar clung to Barzak as if she would never let go. Resting her head on his shoulder, she trembled. Not a sound, only the quake of her body. Barzak held her firmly with both hands, pressing his lips to her forehead.
Barzak held her tightly… as if unwilling to lose this moment.
And then, her throat caught the sound—Barzak was crying too.
Both of them broke down in tears.
Through Barzak's eyes, the past quietly descended.
And Bahar… she could make no sound. Only her breath caught, each inhale a trembling storm in her chest.
Her lips pressed to Barzak's shoulder—silent. Her hair brushed against his face. Barzak kissed her head—silently, carrying a hundred years of forgiveness.
They stood in the silent room. The candlelight flickered… bearing witness to this impossible reunion.
Bahar still spoke nothing. Words had been lost. Lost on that night when Barzak had been "dead."
Today… only tears spoke. Only the warmth of breath conveyed the meaning—
"He has returned."
"He has truly returned."
Thunder roared in the distance above. Outside the palace, the wind picked up. But inside the room, only the sound of silent weeping remained. Two hearts close together, two lives awakened.
Bahar's hands clutched his chest. She looked at Barzak's face—white streaks in his hair, weariness in his eyes, but that Barzak… that fire, that gentleness.
Tears in her eyes, yet a smile on her lips.
"You've returned… oh Ar-Rauf! I thank you endlessly…"
Her hands still clutched his chest. She looked at Barzak's face—white streaks in his hair, weariness in his eyes, but that Barzak… that fire, that gentleness.
The candlelight trembled in the air. Shadows swayed in the corners of the room. Both of them cried, but it was no cry of sorrow—this was the end of a long, unspoken wait. When eyes met, they said nothing—only touching each other's faces, as if finding the lost days' caress.
Two people, two hearts, one point of light… and an explosion of otherworldly love.