Layla stood up from the sand, brushing off the grains as she prepared to return home. This time, she took the easier path—the same one she and Emre had used the other day when they visited this place.
This beach held many memories. They used to come here when they were little, back when their father was still alive. Even after he passed, they kept coming—despite the four-hour drive—because this place still felt like a part of him.
Layla had accomplished what she came for. The dreams she'd been having night after night had led her here—to retrieve the spatial ring. Now that it was in her hands, she needed to go back home first and take her time to study it properly.
Getting here was easy—taxis from towns came this far. But leaving was another matter. There was no taxi stand nearby.
So she walked, following the quiet road, hoping a car would pass and give her a lift to the nearest station.
Almost an hour passed. Still no one. But Layla didn't mind. If she really wanted to, she could run the whole way home—four hours or not, it meant nothing to someone as strong as she had become.
About thirty minutes later, a slow old farm truck came rattling down the road. An elderly couple sat inside.
"Hey girl, what are you doing out here alone?" the old woman asked through the rolled-down window. "This road isn't safe."
Layla smiled gently. "I went to visit my father's grave nearby. My phone ran out of battery, so I couldn't call a taxi."
"Oh dear, poor thing. Come on, we'll take you home."
"Thanks, Grandma," Layla said with a soft chuckle. "But it's okay, just drop me at the nearest taxi stand."
The woman tried to insist, but Layla politely declined. She thanked them again for their kindness.
During the drive, the old woman asked her a few casual questions about school and life, and Layla answered politely, keeping things simple.
Eventually, they reached the nearby taxi stop. Layla got out, thanked them once more, and took a taxi home. It was just a half-hour ride from there.
When she stepped into the house, it was already 5:20 p.m. A warm dinner was waiting on the table.
Mom's probably still at the bookstore, she thought to herself.
She went to her room and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her mind drifting into silence.
Her phone rang.
"What is it now, Asma?" she answered lazily.
"I've already packed everything for the move," Asma said. "I'm coming in the morning." She paused, then added, "I wanted to come alone, but my dad's being annoying. He insists on bringing me and talking to your mom first."
"And what's wrong with that?" Layla said. "He's your father. You think just because you said you're moving in, they'll toss you over here like a potato sack?"
"Ugh, you sound like someone's grandma!" Asma snapped.
"Are you secretly in love with me or something? Why do you keep calling me all the time?" Layla teased.
Asma laughed. "Please, you sound like someone with a boyfriend. If I didn't call, nobody would!"
"Whatever. I'm going to shower. Cut the phone."
"Go to hell."
Layla tossed the phone aside and headed for the bathroom.
*****
Layla stepped out of the shower feeling fresh and light, the tension of the long walk gone from her muscles. Dressed in her pajamas, she sat cross-legged on her bed, holding the spatial ring in her palm. Now that she was home, it was time to examine it thoroughly.
She closed her eyes and focused, pushing her sense into the ring.
In an instant, she was inside a vast storage space—like a private vault frozen in time. Her eyes widened.
Tall wooden bookshelves lined the walls, each shelf packed with ancient-looking books. A closer look revealed most of them were about medicine and healing—formulas, herb guides, diagrams showing acupuncture points, and treatments for conditions she had only ever heard about in passing.
But that wasn't all.
Several books were about martial arts. There were hand-drawn illustrations showing combat stances, kicking and fist techniques, defensive postures, tactical moves, speed boosts, brutal finishing moves, and even energy-based attacks.
Layla's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I'm going to be insane after this," she murmured to herself. The possibilities were endless.
Further into the space were rows of herbs—sacred flowers, aged roots, glossy leaves, preserved tinctures, and aromatic teas. Dozens of them. Some shimmered faintly, others pulsed with a natural glow. There were liquids she couldn't recognize, sealed in crystal bottles. But she wasn't worried—those books would help her identify everything and how to use them.
Then came the weapons.
Twin sabers with black-and-gold hilts rested beside an ornate bow with dozens of arrows. Spears of varying lengths leaned neatly against a wall. There were even throwing knives and circular blades that looked too exotic to name.
Beyond that lay what could only be called treasures—ancient relics, glowing artifacts, jade pieces, gold bars, and sparkling stones that looked incredibly rare. She didn't know all their names, but she knew value when she saw it.
"This must be everything the holy daughter ever owned," Layla thought, overwhelmed by the sheer wealth stored in one place.
She materialized a few books out of the ring and began reading them one by one, sitting comfortably on the bed. Every page made her feel like she was stepping into a new world. These books could make her a doctor beyond what the modern world had seen. The sacred herbs alone were enough to revolutionize medicine. There were flowers that could make natural beauty lotions and soaps. Her dreams of becoming a businesswoman—no, a billionaire—suddenly felt real and reachable.
As she was deep into her study, the front door opened.
Her mom, Elif, had returned from the bookstore.
Layla got up and greeted her.
"Have you gone back to Asma's place?" Elif asked as she took off her coat.
"Yes, Mom. Her father's bringing her over tomorrow morning."
"Oh! That'll be great then!" Elif smiled—then her expression shifted to a slight frown. "Why haven't you eaten dinner yet? Layla, how many times do I have to tell you not to skip meals?"
"Moom, I forgot. I was busy studying," Layla said, playfully dragging the word to soften the scolding.
"It's good to study, but where do you think you'll get the energy to study if you don't eat?" Elif snapped.
"Okay, okay, I'll eat now. Don't get worked up," Layla surrendered.
"I'll warm the food first. Wait a few minutes," her mom said as she walked into the kitchen.
Just then, Emre arrived home. He dropped his bag, gave Layla a quick nod, and joined them at the table.
They sat down to eat together—the food warm, the atmosphere light. Layla smiled to herself. It had been a long day.