İlyara
"May our bond protect us and make us stronger."
The moment the words left her lips, İlyara felt her heartbeat quicken. At the same time, a strange itch spread across her palms. Instinctively, she lifted her gaze to Arın.
He was looking at her as well.
His expression was as calm as ever, but she didn't miss the brief questioning look that flickered in his eyes. It was as if he, too, was trying to understand what was happening.
Did Arın truly know what he was doing?
As the thought crossed her mind, Arın's hand tensed slightly. The moment she realized he was trying to pull away and somehow couldn't, her attention immediately dropped to their joined palms.
An uneasiness she couldn't explain settled inside her. Arın was the one who had wanted this agreement. So why was he trying to pull back now?
Before she could find an answer, thin black lines began to rise from their palms. The root-like tendrils stretched between their hands and locked together, pulsing for a brief moment as though they were imitating the rhythm of İlyara's heartbeat. Holding her breath, she watched as the black roots wound around their hands and tightened before cracking apart like dried branches. The broken fragments vanished before they could even reach the floor.
For several seconds, neither of them looked away from their joined hands.
Without taking her eyes off them, İlyara spoke.
"What happens now?"
Arın looked at her first, then slowly withdrew his hand from hers. His gaze remained fixed on his palm as he answered.
"I don't know."
Without meaning to, İlyara copied his movement and looked down at her own palm. The cut had vanished completely. Not even a trace of blood remained. In its place, however, thin brown lines stretched from the center of her palm toward her wrist. They looked like dried branches etched into her skin.
Startled, she lifted her head and looked at Arın.
"Do you see this?" she asked, holding out her hand to him.
After studying her palm carefully, Arın frowned slightly and turned his own hand over.
"I have the same thing," he said. "But it looks like a mirror image."
As he spoke, he brought his hand closer to hers. When they aligned the marks, the lines completed one another. It was as though a single symbol had been split into two halves, with one half given to her and the other to Arın.
İlyara couldn't take her eyes off the marks. She hadn't expected a bond formed so recently to leave a visible trace on their bodies.
Just as she was about to pull her hand away, she noticed black smoke gathering around her palm. Instead of clinging to her skin and spreading across it as it always did, the smoke circled around their hands for several seconds before changing direction and flowing toward Arın's hand.
İlyara watched in astonishment as the black tendrils were drawn into his palm one after another. She wasn't the one guiding them this time. In fact, she wasn't even sure she could have stopped them if she had tried. It was as though the black smoke had already made its choice and selected Arın's hand as its new destination.
"It seems to have worked," Arın said calmly. His eyes remained fixed on the black smoke flowing into his body.
" So... are we fated mates?" İlyara asked.
The moment the question left her mouth, she regretted it. Her eyes drifted back to their joined hands as the black smoke continued streaming relentlessly toward Arın's palm.
Was that really what she wanted?
Or was she simply trying to find something to hold on to against the loneliness that had followed her all her life?
"Maybe," Arın said. "Because this is the first time I've seen a Morhena form a blood bond with an Alkan."
When İlyara looked up at him, she noticed an unfamiliar spark of life in his gray eyes. She couldn't tell whether it was truly there or whether she only imagined it because she wanted to see it.
"You can transfer the emotions weighing you down to me now."
At those words, İlyara's heart began to beat a little faster. She had seen the smoke move toward Arın with her own eyes. The marks on their palms were proof enough. Everything seemed to suggest that the bond had worked.
Even so, she couldn't suppress the growing unease inside her.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," İlyara said, shaking her head slightly. "A moment ago, I was almost killing you."
"I'm already dead."
Arın's voice was as calm as ever. As he spoke, he took a step closer and cast a brief glance at the black smoke flowing into him.
"Besides, that's exactly what a blood bond is for," he said. "To share an Alkan's burden."
İlyara fell silent for a moment. None of the questions inside her had lessened. If anything, every answer only brought new uncertainties with it.
"And what about the fated mate part?" she asked at last.
Arın didn't answer immediately. He studied her face for several seconds before speaking in the same calm tone.
"We'll find out in time."
After taking a deep breath, İlyara nodded.
"Alright."
Closing her eyes, she reached for the emotions she had taken from Veyra. They weren't difficult to find. They were still there, feeling just as heavy as they had on the first day. Those intense, obsessive emotions directed toward Arın made up the largest part of the burden. Grief, anger, regret, and years of accumulated loneliness lay tangled together in the depths of her mind, while some feelings were so complex that even İlyara couldn't fully understand them. The weight of it all was sometimes enough to make it difficult to breathe.
What if Arın was crushed beneath them?
What if they dragged him into the same darkness?
As those thoughts circled through her mind, she felt a faint movement inside her veins. It was as though an invisible current was flowing through her arms, making its way toward the mark in her palm. The moment İlyara realized what was happening, her eyes flew open, but it was already too late.
The emotions had already begun to move.
She tried to pull her hand away in panic, but she couldn't. The movement within her veins reached the mark on her palm and flowed from there into Arın's hand. Staring in shock, she saw the same movement appear along his arm. It was as if an invisible bond was taking the entire burden from within her and carrying it to him.
Her gaze drifted upward on its own.
A faint light had appeared around Arın's gray eyes. With every passing second it spread farther, erasing the dull emptiness within them and replacing it with a living radiance. İlyara finally managed to pull her hand away, but by then all of her attention was fixed on Arın's face.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Arın had lowered his head. For a while, he remained completely motionless.
İlyara waited, but when no answer came, the unease inside her only grew stronger. Finally, she set her hesitation aside, stepped toward him, and touched his hand.
The moment she did, she flinched and pulled back.
It was supposed to be cold.
Every time she had touched him before, his skin had been cold. This time, however, what she felt beneath her fingertips was the warmth of a living person.
Before she could recover from her shock, Arın lifted his head.
İlyara's breath caught.
The person standing before her was the same, but his eyes were not.
The dull, empty gaze she had grown accustomed to was gone, replaced by bright, living gray eyes. It was as though a window that had remained shut for years had finally been opened, allowing light to enter for the very first time.
İlyara couldn't look away.
Was this real?
Softly, she called his name.
"Arın."
Arın turned his gaze toward her.
"I'm fine," he said.
The moment the words left his mouth, a black tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
İlyara stared at him in shock. Reaching out, she wiped the tear from his cheek. The warmth of his skin still lingered in her mind from moments ago. She had expected the tear to be warm as well, but the liquid that touched her fingers was strangely cold.
"Why are you crying?" she asked.
Arın frowned.
His gaze moved from İlyara's face to the black tear resting on her fingertips. He looked as though he were examining something he had never seen before.
"Am I crying?" he asked.
İlyara stared at him for several seconds.
He sounded genuinely curious.
"Of course you are."
Arın continued looking at the black tear for a moment longer before raising a hand to his cheek. As he studied the dark liquid on his fingertips, the expression on his face grew even more complicated.
"I don't know why," he said at last.
İlyara's eyes widened slightly.
It wasn't just the tears. The way he frowned, the uncertainty in his gaze, and the faint hesitation that had settled into his voice all felt different.
"You're acting as if you have emotions."
For a few moments, Arın simply looked at her without saying anything.
"Maybe Veyra's emotions are causing it," he said before turning toward the kitchen and washing his face.
Strangely, after transferring the emotions to Arın, İlyara felt lighter. It was as though an invisible weight that had been pressing down on her shoulders for days had finally eased. Yet the relief never lasted long. Every time she remembered the black tears that had fallen from Arın's eyes and the unfamiliar expression on his face, guilt took its place.
Had she trapped him inside Veyra's emotions?
The thought settled in her chest like a dull ache. A tear slipped from her eye, and she turned her head slightly away.
"Why are you crying?"
Startled by Arın's voice, İlyara quickly wiped her cheek and forced a smile.
"I'm not crying," she said.
Avoiding his gaze, she walked past him and washed her face as well.
"I'll clean the floor," she said before heading toward the bathroom.
There was an urge to cry inside her that she couldn't explain. Maybe if she kept herself occupied, she could escape the feeling.
She had just reached the door when Arın's voice stopped her.
"It's not your fault."