You'll probably find it odd that I'm rushing through the entire plot here. If I had read this in a novel, I might've dismissed it as bad writing. But... the events are far more complicated than that. Flashback after flashback—it's confusing, isn't it? I know. And yet... that's what happened.
I take a few steps toward the old altar. A decrepit and awful structure, perhaps built thousands of years ago. The kind of place I would never even touch, let alone come near. The type that requires the most deceitful tricks to avoid entirely. An old underground city, abandoned. It stands before me now with its tall columns, derelict houses, and an indistinguishable temple that turns my stomach. Yes, I feel sick. With every step I take, the nausea worsens.
I wander here and there in the narrow space. Behind the ancient columns, broken idols are hidden—so disgraceful, so obscene. Each is carved with such finesse that even the most refined forms of dark lust couldn't reach their level. I struggle to understand what they are, but they're there. The form of a woman's body... an idol of a woman's body. Something is etched in old runic letters. Though it's hard to read, with some effort, I make out the word. It says "KURL"... crudely carved into the stone columns.
As I move forward a bit more, I see the altar. Inside the dusty stone-carved temple, it stands waiting for me. On it lies a skeleton—I can't tell if it belonged to a human or some larger creature. A few spider webs cover it. The soot and grime on it must have accumulated over centuries.
Then, I start feeling dizzy from it all. I wish I could just wake up like nothing happened. But everything only intensifies. It's like being on a trip—my mind spins in confusion. I pass through a state more dreadful than even the worst nightmares. And then... something stands before me—something that never existed. It hits me like an old memory. It's like electricity surging through the deepest crevices of my body. For a moment, I forget my form, my name, even my consciousness. I watch, helpless, as this horrible leviathan-like nightmare devours me.
An owl appears in front of me... with black feathers and a terrible aura. I can't describe it. Its monstrous teeth, its blasphemous tongue spewing curses—I hear them clearly. I have no idea what this creature is. All I know is... this thing I can't even comprehend is tearing me apart piece by piece. I see my flesh pierced and shredded.
"Wake up..." says a voice I don't recognize. Wake up... In front of me stands a man in his thirties, with long black hair down to his neck, a scruffy beard, and a relatively slim build. "Wake up..." he insists. "You can't give up that easily…"
I see him circle around a few times. He's preaching in his own way. "You can't let yourself go this easily…"
"You... who are you…" That's the only sentence I manage to get out after the relentless storm in my head.
"I'm sorry but... it's still far too early for everything. When the time comes, we'll meet again, and I'll join you all. But for now... I have no choice but to ask for your leave."
He walks around a few more times. "For now, you'll have to fight on your own. And when the time comes... we'll all fight together. But for now, it's my time to go…" he says, turning his back to me.
"Until that day comes, take care of yourself, Celal…"
"Wait…" That was all I could say. Only that slipped from my lips. He turned back and smiled... and after that...
I opened my eyes. I was about 200 meters outside the ancient city and temple. Still underground—since the ancient city was there too—but in a more remote part. I had fallen on my butt.
"Celal!" I heard a voice from afar. It echoed off the grimy stone walls. It was very familiar. He came running.
"You... from the consulate…"
"Finally... I found you…" he said, extending his hand. His voice wasn't frantic, but I wouldn't call it calm either. He grabbed me and pulled me up from where I had fallen. I nearly stumbled again as soon as I stood, but he held my arm immediately. "Are you okay?"
"Not really…" I replied. "My head... feels like it's exploding…"
"Don't worry," he said, starting to carry me out. "You'll get some meds. I brought a few things with me."
"What exactly happened?"
"That's the thing—we don't know either," he replied. "You told your brother you'd go for a walk after work. Then you just disappeared."
"For hours? How long have I been gone?"
"About 15 hours, I think…"
to be frank,it was a pretty weird first day
We had already gone outside... The pitch-black night and the jungle's strange, dreamlike aura filled our vision. He turned on a flashlight clipped to his jacket. He walked me about ten meters and laid me under a tree, just above the damp but solid ground, so I could rest. From his backpack, he pulled out a bottle of water and some strange medicine I didn't even recognize.
"This should help..." he said as if he knew I was under some kind of influence. That's when I got my first real look at his face. Slightly long sideburns, straight black hair combed to the side, square glasses—a man in his mid-twenties. His beard wasn't thick and just brushed past his cheeks to reach his chin.
"How did you know I was missing?" I asked, turning to him.
"You always make sure you're home before 10 PM. At least, that's what Muzaffer said. He's the one who asked me to look for you…"
"So on the first day you met him, he asked you to go look for his missing brother?"
"That's exactly what he said, yes…" he replied.
If I had seen something like this in a play, I'd probably curse it out and walk out. When it comes to Muzaffer, the absurdity knows no bounds. But still, without him... in the state I was in—like a drug trip—I probably wouldn't have made it out of there easily. I couldn't even muster the strength to walk. That ability had been ripped from me. I was just nailed to the ground.
He lit a cigarette beside me. He handed me one too, to help me sober up a bit. "I guess I owe you..." I said, taking a drag.
"It's really nothing. Honestly."
"No, really... you've spent hours looking for me. I caused you trouble."
"It's no trouble. I had free time. Besides…"
"Besides what…" I asked while smoking.
"You really don't remember me, do you?" he asked, lowering his head slightly. There was a mix of shyness and pride in his expression.
"Not really... you…"
"It's fine…" he brushed it off. "I don't really want to remember those days either."
I didn't understand much, but I pretended I did.
"Fuat…" he said, extending his hand. "Fuat Kaptan." He introduced himself a bit too dramatically. We shook hands. His face was definitely familiar. Even if I couldn't place it exactly, it had somehow seeped into my mind.
"What do you do at the consulate?" I asked to change the subject.
"Nothing too different from what you do," he replied. "In addition, I do chemical analysis on incoming documents when necessary."
"What?"
"I'm serious. You're in intelligence, so you know—sometimes documents need to be analyzed to determine when they were written, if there's any interpolation or forgery. I handle that. Not much—just a little, now and then."
"So... is that really why you came all the way out here?" I asked, turning to him. "This is an exile post…"
"The pay was good…"
"Is that your only reason? Money?"
"Partly," he said, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. "Also a matter of reputation."
"You're not going to build a good reputation here, let me tell you that."
"More like... I'm here to clean up my bad reputation," Fuat added. "I drew a bit too much attention before I came here. This is me trying to clean that mess up."
"What did you do?" I asked, switching the cigarette to my other hand.
"Something I shouldn't have," he deflected. The warmth on his face disappeared in an instant.