Ayşen was being tossed around in the depths of her mind, like a whirlpool. The last thing she remembered was the water in her mother's crystal glass, a handful of pills, and her mother closing her eyes as she embraced her pillow. After that... everything was blank.
But now, here she was. In a room lit by oil lamps, decorated with Ottoman motifs, and quietly observed by veiled women.
A voice whispered within her: Is this real?
Then she mumbled to herself: "It's not reincarnation... it's not teleportation either... If it were, I would have come with my own body... So, what about my soul?"
Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she looked at her hands—delicate, fine, silk-like hands... These were not her hands. Did my soul come here?
At that moment, the men in the room withdrew, leaving only one woman by her side. The woman bent over Ayşen with pitying eyes. Her voice, low yet deep, resonated:
"Oh, beautiful lady... I wasn't wrong when I said I wouldn't let you survive among these wolves. Did you sacrifice your life so they wouldn't scar your face?"
Ayşen furrowed her brows and looked closely at the woman. Even in the dim light of the room, Cevher Kalfa's genuine concern was clear on her face.
"Excuse me, what was your name again?" Ayşen asked, her voice weak and hoarse.
Cevher Kalfa blinked and took a step closer, as if she wanted to see Mahperi's condition more clearly. "Cevher... Cevher Kalfa," she said gently. "Are you really asking my name in the middle of all this trouble?"
Ayşen took a deep breath, trying to suppress the chaos in her mind. Now she understood; this woman knew her, and well. But this body was Mahperi's... and clearly, Mahperi had a story, an unfinished story.
Regaining some composure, she mumbled, "I'm asking because... you know, my mind's not working properly, I don't remember." She continued, "Please, tell me everything from the beginning, Cevher Kalfa... where is this place? How did I get here?"
Cevher Kalfa gently squeezed Mahperi's hands. "My dear lady, you came back from death... with your own blood, your own courage..."
Ayşen's brows knitted together. "What do you mean?" she whispered. "Did Mahperi also commit suicide? Is that why her story remains unfinished?" she wondered to herself.
The questions in her mind grew like an avalanche. Though Ayşen found these questions strange to ask, Cevher Kalfa, believing her mind was clouded from sickness, responded kindly:
Cevher Kalfa bit her lip and took a deep breath. "Lady... Your name is Mahperi. Your late father, Hüseyin Çelebi, was the sultan's tutor and the most renowned painter in the palace. After his passing... you were left alone."
Ayşen's heart pounded.
"Valide Sultan saw you as worthy of Sultan Murad… you were brought to the harem to become the mother of a prince. But..." Her voice trembled, and her gaze dropped. "But they... didn't want you. The other women, jealous of your beauty, wanted to scar your face, and you... jumped from the harem balcony..."
Ayşen felt a pang inside. So, Mahperi's father, like her own mother, was her only anchor. Both were rootless.
As her thoughts echoed in her mind, Cevher Kalfa said, "Let me bring you some food and your medicines, lady," and patted her back before leaving the room.
Ayşen whispered to herself:
"Was this our bond? Was our only anchor, our family? Is that why you, like me, gave up?"
Just then, a voice echoed in her mind:
"Yes."
Ayşen's eyes widened, and her whole body went cold. "Oh God, have I truly gone mad?" she whispered breathlessly.
But the voice answered calmly and strongly:
"No, you haven't gone mad… You came here as the stronger one, for this mission."
Ayşen, breathless, placed her hand on her chest. "Mahperi?" she whispered. "Are you here? Are you a ghost? Or... are we both in this body?"
The voice echoed in her mind like a mother's warm smile:
"Oh, my dear... I am the past, the future, and I am you. You are my bloodline... Your mother and grandmother were the same. But my character was weaker than yours."
Ayşen's eyes filled with tears. That voice, like her mother's presence, was warm, as if invisible arms were hugging and comforting her.
"I'm not strong either..." Ayşen whispered, "I tried to take my own life, Mahperi."
The voice replied gently but clearly:
"No, your time was up. Your future was not meant to be there. Even though your past was there... my time was over. But yours is just beginning."
Ayşen's mind was spinning. "I don't understand... Does that mean we're supposed to stay here together and arrange your life?"
The voice smiled lightly:
"No, Ayşen... You are Mahperi now. This body was already yours. My time is finished... Now, you have returned to your real life."
"But..." Ayşen's voice trembled, "But there are things I need to know, right?"
Mahperi's voice became anxious:
"Our lineage... Our legacy... and the lives of those we would die for, their fate depends on you."
"W-what?"
"You must find yourself before the end of next year."
"Find myself?"
"Your essence, my dear girl. You must find your essence."
A shiver ran down Ayşen's spine. "Okay... So... What do I do now? How will I solve these mysterious events?"
Suddenly, the voice fell silent. The warm presence seemed to be gone.
An idea suddenly struck Ayşen's mind. "Wait... if something happens to me... will my mother have never existed?"
"Mahperi? Say something! Give me an answer!"
She heard the door gently tap and flinched.
Seeing Ayşen talking to herself, Cevher Kalfa shook her head.
"Ah, lady, oh my..." she sighed. "What can we do with you... Your soul is wounded, and your mind is lost..."
She placed the tray on the table. A bowl of soup and a slice of warm bread...
Cevher Kalfa approached with a gentle but firm voice:
"Come closer, lady... You need to eat a little. If you don't gather strength, how will you stand tall when Sultan Murad wants to see you?"
Ayşen narrowed her eyes.
Sultan Murad...
Without taking a sip, she whispered with a trembling voice:
"Why is Sultan Murad asking for me?"
Cevher Kalfa's voice was shaky but clear:
"Does he have a reason, lady?" she sighed deeply. "The sultan owes a debt of loyalty to your father... Plus, you are his concubine. The palace has already spread the word of you being 'The Mad Concubine of the Harem.'"
Ayşen's lips curled with anger. "Ha! You haven't seen madness yet."
Cevher Kalfa's eyes widened, and a look of concern settled on her face. This sentence wasn't something a concubine would say.
"Oh, lady, what's happened to your speech? Have you forgotten your tongue?"
Ayşen realized her mistake and quickly tried to compose herself. "I think... it's those things in my head," her voice quivered as she avoided eye contact, trying to brush it off.
But this momentary panic was nothing compared to the fear she felt deep within her heart. Mahperi's voice echoed inside her, as if tying the past and future with a thread. Ayşen had a task, but what was it? The one thing that couldn't be forgotten was that her mother had to be born. No matter what...
Just then, the door was gently knocked. Cevher Kalfa quickly stood up, bowed her head in respect, and opened the door.
The man who entered was imposing, clearly a palace official with his embroidered caftan and stern gaze. His eyes were fixed on Ayşen.
"Lady," he said in a thick and authoritative voice, "I am the Chief Eunuch of Sultan Murad. The sultan is sending you to the Bursa Palace to rest and recover. There, you will take care of the princes."
Suddenly, a flash of realization struck Ayşen's mind. Mahperi's words echoed in her ears:
"You must find yourself... Our lineage, the lives of those we would die for, depend on you."
Her gaze momentarily lost focus. "My mother... My mother must be born, and I... must live as her daughter, even if it's only for a short time."
Her eyes suddenly...