After a journey that lasted days, with pauses lasting hours, we finally reached the heart of the capital—and what a bewitching city it was! Shielded by impregnable fortresses, distinguished by its exquisite architecture, and adorned with fields of multicolored crops, it dazzled the eye. At last, we arrived at our final stop: a three-story villa set in a spacious garden. It looked old—or more accurately, neglected—since my dear uncle had not entered it since my grandmother’s death and Bayram’s departure to the academy almost ten years ago. Curiosity in tow, we stepped inside.

The interior design was surprisingly comfortable. The ground floor comprised an open-plan kitchen and living room overlooking the garden, alongside a generous reception room. On the second floor, a library occupied more than half the space, while three medium-sized bedrooms were claimed by my uncle, his wife, and Niyar. The third floor, somewhat smaller, held an attic level that Rina and I immediately made ours—who would pass up a bright, two-storey room? As soon as our tour concluded, we set about cleaning with tireless enthusiasm, despite the fatigue of our journey.

The next day, Uncle took us into the city center to purchase additional items for our rooms. Finally settled and pleased, Rina and I stayed up late in our room, whispering secrets in the dark. Before long, Niyar slipped in to join our confessional. After hours of uninterrupted chatter, my thirst drove me downstairs in search of water. There, my ear caught my uncle’s hushed conversation on the phone—no mistaking the voice at the other end; it was Bayram. I’d hoped for joyful news, but his tone held none of the familiar warmth. That brittle weakness in his voice told me everything; my beloved city lay in ruins. Woe upon woe, the cause was a treacherous traitor—and our only clue was a single word: “Red.” Bayram had breathed his last transmitting that message, and what followed was silence, save for the echo of a single gunshot. My steps faltered; I fled to my room and threw myself into Rina’s arms. A sense of release washed over me as tears poured forth—for the one who had been heart, honor, brother, and pillar had fallen. Only after long lament did sleep claim me, even as my uncle and aunt explained the events to the brothers downstairs.

“I—where am I?”

That question haunted me again and again, each time lived anew. The scarlet sky shadowed my dreams; shouts reverberated in my mind; the smell of gunpowder and blood filled my nostrils; grains of sand cut into my wounds; and the warmth of spilled life stained the earth beneath my trembling feet. That nightmare tormented me in my moments of weakness—I wept involuntarily—until the call to prayer pierced the dawn. I opened my eyes to see Niyar watching over me. I blinked away tears and, startled to see him in my room, asked, “What are you doing here?”

He hurriedly answered, “I knocked but you didn’t wake—your moans worried me, so I came in. Now get up; it’s just the two of us in the house.”

Puzzled by the empty house, I inquired, “Where did everyone go so early this morning?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. Don’t dwell on it—tell me instead, why were you crying in your sleep like a child?”

I waved him off. “It doesn’t matter. Now go away so I can get up and shake off this sleep.”

To be continued...