The next morning, Layla was woken by the loud buzz of her phone vibrating on the nightstand. She groaned, blindly reaching for it with her eyes still shut. Her fingers fumbled until she finally grabbed it and brought it close to her face.
She squinted at the screen.
Asma.
With a sigh, she swiped to answer.
"So… did you talk with your mom?" came Asma's voice immediately—sharp, awake, and entirely too energetic for this hour.
Layla groaned again, pulling the blanket over her head. "Are you kidding me right now? It's Saturday. Why are you calling me at this godforsaken hour? I'm still half-dead over here…"
"Cut the crap and tell me—did you talk to her or not?" Asma snapped, clearly not in the mood for Layla's sleepy nonsense.
"Aisssh, this bitch…" Layla muttered, dragging the phone away from her ear as if to shield herself from the volume. Then she spoke louder, still lying flat on her pillow. "Why are you yelling? I can hear you perfectly fine, you little demon. Ptuuh!" She made a dramatic spitting noise toward the side, more for flair than anything.
"Yes, I talked to her. She said yes. You can move in, alright? Now cut the damn phone, I need my beauty sleep."
Without waiting for a reply, she hung up with an aggressive tap and tossed the phone aside.
She lay there for a moment, hoping sleep would come back.
It didn't.
Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, wide open now. The weight of the dream from last night returned to her chest like a thick blanket. The Holy Daughter. The battle. The sea.
No use trying to fall back asleep now.
With a low grumble, Layla shoved the covers off and sat up. She rubbed her face, yawned, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
She glanced at the wall clock—it was still early—but she had a plan today. One she couldn't ignore.
"Guess I'm going to the beach," she muttered to herself.
She stood up, stretched, and started getting ready for the strange, quiet journey ahead—back to the place where her life had changed forever.
***
Layla had a quick breakfast that morning, forcing down the toast while her mind replayed the dream again and again—the giant warriors, the twin sabers, the fall into the sea. It was like a message waiting to be read properly.
After eating, she packed a small bag with some essentials—her phone, a towel, a change of clothes, and the little notebook she used to jot things down when her mind was too full. Before leaving, she approached her mom with a straight face.
"Mom," she said, grabbing her bag strap, "I'm heading over to Asma's place. She needs help packing before moving in. We'll probably be sorting through her junk all day."
Elif looked up from the laundry she was folding. "Alright, but don't skip lunch. Take money in case you girls order something, and tell her I said she's welcome anytime."
Layla nodded. "Will do, thanks!"
With that, she stepped out of the house and headed straight for the taxi stand a few streets down. She approached the first taxi waiting in line and gave the driver a destination most would raise a brow at.
The driver, a middle-aged man with silver streaks in his beard and a cap slightly tilted to the side, stared at her through the rearview mirror after punching in the destination.
"That beach is pretty far from the city. Four-hour drive," he said, as though trying to gauge her seriousness. "Are you sure this is the right place for a young girl to go alone?"
Layla smiled politely, her tone reassuring. "Don't worry, Mister. My father is already there waiting for me."
The lie rolled off her tongue smoothly. She didn't like lying to kind people, but it was easier than explaining she was chasing a vision from a dream.
The driver gave a nod. "Ah, alright then. Just be careful. Not many people go that way anymore."
She thanked him and leaned against the window, watching the city fade into open roads and distant hills.
---
Four hours later, they arrived.
The road ended at a dirt path that led toward a thick patch of trees, behind which the sound of waves faintly echoed.
"This is it," the driver said, pulling to a stop. "You take care now, alright?"
Layla stepped out of the car, tightening the strap of her bag. "I will. Thank you."
She waved as he drove off, then turned to face the path ahead. The air smelled of salt and damp leaves. Wind rustled through the trees like whispers from the past.
Last time she came here, it was with Emre. They'd taken a simpler path, one that curved along the coast. But this time, she didn't walk those familiar steps.
Instead, she followed the path from her dreams.
The one the Holy Daughter had run through.
Her pace was steady, eyes sharp. Though alone in a forest thick with silence, she didn't feel afraid. She was confident. If anything—or anyone—tried to threaten her, they'd be the ones regretting it, not her.
The forest eventually opened into a rocky clearing. She recognized it instantly. It was the battlefield. The place where the nine giants had surrounded the Holy Daughter.
It was eerily quiet.
There were no traces of struggle—no broken weapons, no blood, no bodies. Whoever cleaned up had done it well. Or maybe… time had done its work.
Still, standing there, she could feel the tension in the air, like the ground still remembered.
She turned toward the cliff, her gaze locking on the exact spot where the Holy Daughter had fallen into the sea. Her breath caught for a second.
She took a step forward, then another, until she stood right at the edge, the wind tugging at her hair.
After a long pause, she muttered, "Guess I'm diving."
Then, without hesitation, she jumped.
SPLASH.
The cold hit her like a slap. But she recovered quickly, letting herself sink beneath the surface, eyes open and alert.
She dove deeper, swimming in wide arcs across the sea floor, scanning every crevice, every rock formation, every swaying strand of seaweed. But there was nothing. No bones. No weapons. Not even a scrap of cloth.
Just when she was about to give up and head back up for air, something caught her eye.
A flicker.
A shine.
She turned quickly, her heart skipping a beat. Down among a bed of coral, something shimmered—a small object tucked between the rocks.
She swam toward it, brushing away seaweed as she reached out.
A ring.
It was round and silver, but at the center ran a faint blue line, glowing softly like a pulse of light. That glow—she was sure—was what had caught her eye.
Layla held it in her hand and stared. It looked ancient, yet flawless. Not rusted. Not worn.
She clutched it and turned back, pushing herself through the water until she reached the beach—the same one she had visited with Emre that fateful day. Her limbs felt heavy as she dragged herself out of the sea and collapsed briefly onto the sand, panting.
The ring was still in her palm.
She opened her hand and stared at it, water dripping from her fingers.
"What are you?" she whispered.
She sat up slowly, brushing sand off her skin. The waves lapped at her feet as the breeze cooled her wet hair.
Layla sat cross-legged on the warm sand, the sea breeze rustling her damp hair as she stared intently at the ring in her palm.
It looked simple at first glance—silver with a single blue line running around its center like a tiny river of light. No intricate carvings, no markings, no gems. Just… understated elegance.
But something about it pulsed.
She turned it over in her fingers, inspecting every curve, every shimmer under the sunlight.
"It looks simple," she murmured to herself, "but I think it's very valuable."
On a whim, she slipped it onto her finger.
And in an instant—everything changed.
Her senses jolted as if she were being pulled inward. Not her body, but her awareness, her consciousness. It flowed into the ring like water through a funnel.
What she found stunned her.
Inside the ring was… a space. Not a memory. Not an illusion. A real, physical space—like a hidden pocket of reality. A small world all its own.
She stood—no, floated—within it, eyes wide as she took in the impossible sight before her.
Stacks of books lined shelves made from smooth stone. Bundles of herbs—some she recognized from biology class, others completely unfamiliar—hung from wooden racks. A bow and several carefully strung arrows rested on a table beside a rack of weapons.
Her breath caught when she saw them—the twin sabers. The same ones from her dreams. Sleek, curved, radiating a faint spiritual aura that prickled her skin even here.
And that wasn't all.
There were chests filled with coins—gold, silver, some gleaming materials she couldn't even name. Cloaks and robes, armor pieces, tools, and bottles with glowing liquid swirling inside.
"This is… a spatial ring," she said aloud, her voice echoing strangely inside the void. "Just like the ones in fantasy novels."
She turned in place, still absorbing the scale of it all. "So… they do exist."
A thought crept into her mind, stirring a deeper sense of wonder—and confusion.
Was this what the Holy Daughter wanted her to find? Is that why I've been having all those dreams? Why I was drawn back here?
But then—why her? Why give her access to all of this? Why show her those battles? What connection did they share?
Layla felt her mind spin with questions she couldn't answer. Not yet.
She pulled herself back—her awareness leaving the ring's space. Her vision snapped into focus again as she found herself once more sitting on the beach, the ring now resting snugly on her finger like it had always belonged there.
She stared down at it, lips parted in disbelief.
"Well," she muttered, brushing sand off her arms, "guess I'm not as normal as I thought."
She stood up, stretching slightly as she glanced toward the horizon. The sun had begun its descent—gold bleeding into orange.
"I should get back before Mom freaks out."
She cast one last look at the sea—the place where everything began—then turned and began walking back the way she came, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of dreams, rings, and destinies.
Whatever was waiting for her next… she had a feeling it would be far from ordinary.
---