Arın (Uniformed Man)
"You… are you a Morhena?"
Why was İlyara asking Arın that? Didn't she know that he was already a Morhena?
Arın furrowed his brows.
"Yes," he said.
İlyara suddenly started running toward the forest. When Arın saw her beginning to move away from him, his heart ached. But at least she wasn't screaming—
"Aah!"
Yes, now she was screaming, too.
Arın couldn't just stand by and watch her run like that anymore. What if her foot caught on one of the roots and she fell? What would he do then? İlyara shouldn't have to suffer.
First, he looked at the enormous tree in the middle of the large roots. What was it planning? Was it going to tear İlyara away from him? He couldn't let that happen. If necessary, he would cut that tree down.
Then he started running, gripping the scabbard of his sword. His run was very short-lived. No one could match the speed of a Morhena.
In an instant, he appeared in front of İlyara. İlyara noticed him at the last moment and managed to stop by crashing into Arın. She tightly gripped Arın's uniform with her small hands to keep from falling.
She was so cute.
But she was just as frightening. The black smoke from her body suddenly engulfed Arın as well, surrounding them both. Arın knew this feeling. Those vile, ancient emotions seemed to shake his dead body to its very core. Yet he still didn't move away from İlyara.
During the few years he had been unable to see her, he had become certain of one thing. He loved her… or perhaps they really were fated mates, and that was what made him feel this way. Even if this love was the work of fate, he would accept the feeling. He hadn't been able to feel anything for so long. Fate had given him this feeling, one he hadn't even felt when he was human.
How could he turn it away? Before he met İlyara, he had simply drifted from place to place. Now, he could have a real purpose… to make İlyara happy.
As the lost emotions surged through his body, his jaw tightened. Though he groaned in pain for a moment, he wrapped his arms around İlyara. He felt İlyara's body tense as he held her. Then he buried his face in her hair.
He had truly missed her.
The emotions didn't feel as strong as they had a few years ago, either. Perhaps she had scattered them around her over time.
Where had she been living all this time?
İlyara slowly pushed Arın away and slipped out of his arms. Arın looked down at his empty arms. Along with the black smoke spreading through his body, İlyara's warmth had disappeared as well. For the first time, he felt cold.
"Who are you?"
He raised his head at İlyara's question. İlyara looked very thin. Was she not eating properly? But her cheeks were flushed.
Arın reached out toward İlyara's flushed cheeks. But when İlyara took a step back, his hand remained suspended in the air.
Didn't she want him to touch her?
His heart ached again. What was İlyara doing to him?
"It's me, Arın," he replied.
İlyara stared at him with blank eyes for a while.
"Arın," she murmured.
Hearing his name from İlyara's lips, Arın felt his heart race.
"Leave me alone, Arın," she continued. Then she left Arın there and began walking away.
This time, Arın's heart turned to stone. It returned to that cold, rotten state.
Was he trying in vain? Could he really let her go?
Find her.
His master Veyra's order echoed in his mind.
Yes. He had a mission. He would find İlyara and save her from being lost. Until then, he wouldn't leave, even if İlyara drove him away. Because this was an order.
And orders were always important.
Yes… an order.
Arın began following İlyara while keeping his distance from her. Whenever İlyara turned around and looked at him, Arın immediately looked away. He acted as though he were examining the trees, the insects, and the sky around them. But whenever İlyara turned around again, he didn't take his eyes off her for even a moment. His hand was always on the hilt of his sword.
After a while, they approached a clearing. As they went a little farther, they came across a lumberjack's cabin. The cabin was very close to the town they had gone to when he first met İlyara. Fortunately, they didn't seem to be aware of İlyara's presence. If they had been, they would have burned this cabin down long ago.
Before İlyara opened the door, she turned around again. Arın quickly hid behind a tree, making sure İlyara wouldn't see him.
After looking around for a while longer, İlyara opened the door. But as soon as she opened it, someone appeared.
Who was this?
Arın furrowed his brows.
He was a young man who looked about sixteen or seventeen, with a large, broad build.
"I thought I'd lost you for good," the young man said.
Arın tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.
"I tried to leave," İlyara replied. "But I couldn't leave."
Then İlyara giggled. The young man, however, looked at İlyara with a mixture of surprise and disgust.
Who was this brat?
He didn't seem to like İlyara. Arın gritted his teeth at the thought.
İlyara was Arın's. Or rather… he was her protector.
When the young man suddenly drew his sword, Arın quickly stepped in front of İlyara and took the sword strike from his shoulder all the way down to his abdomen.
"Y-You're a Morhena?" he stammered, taking a step back. Then he raised his sword again and, this time, swung it at Arın carelessly, out of fear.
Arın drew his sword with a speed too fast for the eye to follow and countered the attack. With that sudden speed and force, the sword flew from the young man's hand, hung in the air for a moment, and then struck the wooden floor before falling to the ground with a dull thud.
Arın wasted no time. He rammed his shoulder into the young man in front of him, knocking him onto his back. Then he raised his sword and pointed its tip at the young man, ready to drive it into him.
Anger spread through his entire body. He brought his sword down toward the young man, who was trembling in fear beneath his feet.
"No!"
He stopped his movement at İlyara's cry. The sword came to a halt, suspended directly over the young man's heart.
İlyara pushed Arın away from the young man.
Why was İlyara protecting him?
This made him even angrier. These emotions were preventing him from thinking rationally. Perhaps feelings were nothing more than a burden.
"Stay away from him!" she continued, reaching toward the young man on the ground, who was looking at Arın with confusion and fear. However, the young man pulled his hand away, refusing to let İlyara touch him.
"Don't touch me!" he shouted at İlyara.
Who did he think he was?
"Shut the hell up!" Arın threatened. His whole body was trembling with anger. Perhaps he had taken in too many emotions from İlyara.
Even though İlyara stepped back, she continued to stand near the young man.
"Are you all right?" İlyara asked the young man. Then she shook her head from side to side.
"He's fine," she continued, murmuring to herself.
"Who are you?" Arın asked. "And why are you here?"
When the young man saw the compassion in İlyara's eyes, he quickly turned his head toward Arın.
"My name is Yitan," he said.
He had never heard that name before.
"Why are you here?" Arın repeated his question. His voice was deeper this time.
"For revenge."