Maria catches her body before it hits the floor.
Gonca’s eyes roll back.

Maria rips the serum from her arm, presses a kiss to the scar over Gonca’s dead heart—the scar she put there centuries ago.

Mine then, mine now. Until eternity.

She gathers Gonca into her arms and steps out into the hall.

She bumps into Kamer.
Maria smiles.

“I’m not leaving without her this time.”

Kamer nods.

“Will you chase after us?”

“No.”

“What about your revenge?”

He shakes his head.

“Take her. Don’t let her forget. I’m tired.”

Maria leaves with Gonca. Kamer watches them fade into the dark.

Gonca thinks of every memory she tried to erase.

You would, and you did. Not a child. Not a child at all. A vampire.

Bir yarasa.

It is 1968.
Gonca’s hair, wild and frizzed, drifts in the cool night breeze as she sits on the beach, watching the black-water sea breathe in and out. The small waves creep forward, swallowing her bare feet and retreating again, leaving cold trails on her skin.

Maria sits beside her, porcelain-pale beneath the moon, streaked with the faint, dried paths of bloody tears carved through her bright makeup. Gonca reaches out and lays her hand over Maria’s. A quiet, wordless touch. Maria turns to her, and for a moment their eyes meet before she rests her head softly on Gonca’s shoulder.

They are elsewhere.
They are always elsewhere.

A looping ribbon of years, folding and unfolding around them—forever and ever.

Times I existed.
Times I was alive.