40°55'54.0"N 47°30'40.9"E – Somewhere in Oghuz, Azerbaijan

18.05.2024- 22.45 UTC +04.00

“It will kill me,” I cried “Please!”

I started squirming in his cold hands.

He did not relent. I could not know if he possibly even cared, but the reality was I had never sent a message so far.

“Please at least. Let me hear the rain,” I sighed. He did not let go of my throat. But it felt as if he did let go of some control – and suddenly I could listen to the rain, every single droplet, hitting the ground, my cabin’s roof, and the borders of my ward. For reasons unclear, he had shown some mercy.

I left my gaze drifting guided by the sound of the rain and the clouds clashing – I could hear the people of Daymadere and hear the songs in Kərimli, even where the stars shone in the south of Oghuz. I finally thought, there was a way I could still protect them.

And as I started whispering his message, I channeled the strength from all the life around me to ensure that my service to this unknown man, would let me cast one last hex.

Blood started dripping from my nose and ears. I whispered far away, past Bagdad, past Damascus or Cairo. Further than I have ever reached, a whisper in a tongue I cannot comprehend with consequences I could not fathom. Past the sands of Libya, I was looking for covens that could not have possibly heard a whisper from so far away.

At the same time, I looked inward, in my ward. And as I delivered my whisper to the ends of Sahara, I am sure he heard my very last whisper for none other than himself.

The debt of life you are taking forbids you ever from approaching this ward again, as long as the rain still plans to fall

The rain sounded stronger than ever before, and for a moment I let myself drift painlessly away with my whispering, as my body fell to the ground, in a pool of blood.

I awoke to the intense smell of flowers, in clean silken sheets. I felt a searing pain in my throat as I tried to yawn. I tried to rise from the lying position, but found myself unable to do so, my hands utterly weak to support me. The room was well-lit, with the beams of a setting sun piercing through the curtained windows.

This was not my house, but something about that flower smell permeating the air was familiar, and my senses reassured me I was safe.

I tried to recall how I ended up here, but I could not. I remembered I was supposed to be on a mission: ward and protect fields south of Daymadere. But, protect from what?

I made another attempt to rise from the bed, a bit more successful. Overwhelming fatigue and a desire to stay lying down pulled me like gravity but I managed to put my back against the bed’s headboard.

Next to me, on the nightstand, there was a small glass of water and a bag of crushed leaves. A note next to that recommended: çay for a painless sleep. I moved towards it and released the powdered leaves into the water. I instinctively tried to whisper to it. Again, shearing pain in my throat

I teared up. I could not whisper through this pain, and I could not remember why. I drank the tea.

I woke up to what it seemed hours later, covered in sweat. I did not try to speak. Judging by the lighting in the room from the curtained window, I could not have slept that long. I gave it another go at standing up. As I got off the bed and as the after-sleep mind fog cleared, I noticed I was not wearing any clothes. A set of silken robes was lying on the desk across the room.

Again, I found myself trying to remember what had happened. I reached my neck with my left hand, double-checking it was intact. If anything, my head was in its place.

I donned the robe. No questions would be answered by me just staying in a random bed. Near the room’s door, I hesitated. Where was I walking to? I went first towards the window and looked outside. All I could see was a small garden and Persian silk trees. This could be anywhere in the region.

I went back to the door and passed through it, into a living room spacious enough to host a kitchen as well. The house I was in was decorated in brown, gold, and warm red colors, much like the bedroom I was in. A man was cooking something in boiling pots in the kitchen, but the flower aroma was covering any culinary smell.

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“Here you are,” said the man in the kitchen “I am Ramin. You are in a safe house in Kərimli”

He left his cooking utensils and looked towards me. He was shorter than I was, with kind eyes and a two-day stubble beard. He was looking at me dead in the eyes, I think more like a courtesy of trying not to acknowledge me wearing nothing but a robe.

“I apologize for the lack of proper clothing to offer you. I was supposed to wait for your coven to bring me your appropriate clothing. No idea what is taking them so long,” he explained, and I could sense worry in the way his voice lingered over the last word. “So long”.

“What… happened?” I asked with a raspy voice.

“Oh, please protect your voice,” he said and ran towards the kitchen, bringing me a hot cup of a pink liquid “Rose tea. Bought it from Caspians”

I nodded as a thank you but looked at him with enquiring persistence.

“Starling did not give me any details,” he said “They brought you here two nights ago, deep into the darkest of night. Your face was covered in blood, still breathing”

“Did they make it?” I asked. My voice was weak and cracking, but I did not feel any pain. Whatever wounds I had sustained, they had healed quite quickly. I could remember I was in agony; and beyond worried I had failed my coven. As much as I could strive to remember, I could not.

What were they supposed to achieve, even? I remembered it was crucial, but why?

He sat uncomfortably across the room. “Well, no? Yes? I am not sure. Starling said they failed and was tight-lipped about the details. However, any pressure on Oghuz has stopped. They also stopped the wild propaganda of the last weeks. At least on the radio.”

I felt my head hurt. No matter how much I tried, I could remember but fragments of that night. “So, I was attacked,” I said trying to recount what happened.

“Yes”

“But who did I whisper” I asked in complete confusion “I remember… a desert. Far away” I could feel the sand falling on my hands and feet as I was compelled to whisper a message far away. It was in another language, something Latin sounding.

“I do not know. Look, you can take some of my old sister’s clothes, in the wardrobe,” he said eagerly going towards the kitchen “Meanwhile I hope Starling shows up soon.”

I did not pick up the worry in his voice, instead, I simply found my way toward the bedroom again. Searching into the wardrobe I indeed found some clothes that could potentially fit me. As I started changing, I felt uneasy.

I still did not know where I was, or who this man was. He knew Starling – which I guess was a positive sign. But still, there were so many gaps in the story to fill. For starters: where were my clothes? Why was I so calm?

As I dressed myself fully, I could not help but feel cozy. I decided to cut myself some slack. Even if I did not remember, something horrible must have happened to me that night, and Ramin – whoever that was – had given me refuge, clean clothes, and a chance to heal. I opened the windows of the room and inhaled deeply. The evening breeze mixed with flower aroma filled my nostrils.

“Hey, dinner is ready!” Ramin yelled from inside.

Not much was said while we sat around the dinner table. The hot soup made my throat feel better, so I could chat, but neither of us initiated any important topics. I spent most of the time observing him and trying to get to know him. I learned that he was also Cursed, a satellite of Starling’s coven, maintaining a safe place if anyone needed it.

A small radio was playing music, a song that sounded familiar. Perhaps from my days in the Caspian Sea? I could not tell.

…və onların

işi yalnız,

işığı tapmaq idi…

A male voice sang through an unstable radio connection.

I looked at Ramin and wondered what his curse was. The moment the thought jumped in my head; I pushed it away. It was beyond rude to ask someone that, and improper of me to even be curious about it. My head hurt a bit.

“Are you alright?” he asked with visible concern “Need some more soup?”

“No… no, I am fine, really,” I said, but I was not. I knew what this headache was, a premonition, a warning. A similar feeling to when I would receive a whisper, but instead generated by my subconscious. “I could do with a bath if that is alright”

“I see,” he said “Of course, it is in that corner. There are clean towels already there for you, and they are already warmed up. I can stay and clean up a bit here”

“Thank you”

The bathroom was already steamy and lit only by aromatic candles. I closed and locked the door behind me, making sure no one would interrupt me. It felt important to do so, and I could not shake the feeling something was off. I paused.

Why my sudden paranoia? Everything was fine.

I turned on the faucet to fill the bath with water. I blew some candles out and closed my eyes standing outside the bathtub. I tried to deprive myself of senses: no sight, no smell, no hearing but the water running. I tried to sense any shadows or even any whispers from the rest of the coven.

I did not dare to whisper, as my body did not feel ready. I was still hoping there would be someone reaching out to me. Nothing. Complete silence.