Everything is fictional.
Welcome to our 15th-century universe, a time of slavery. I hope you enjoy it.
Unfortunately, no matter the era, violence and harassment (including sexual assault) against women exist. This book contains elements of violence
consider this a fair warning...
Our village, Heaven's Flower, belonged to no nation; it stood alone, independent in its own right. Yet on a day no one noticed
though everyone expected the sun to rise as usual
the village was overrun. They could have taken the village itself and it would have meant little; families knew their children were the true targets.
The terror everyone feared had come alive: colossal men had descended upon the village. A single glance could seal one's fate; one had to live unaware, as if freedom could never be snatched away in an instant. Tragic… the number of lives it would burn was beyond imagination.
The village was called Heaven's Flower, but that day, they had turned heaven itself into hell. The streets became a slaughterground, and everyone ran for as far as their legs could carry them.
My mother's dress consisted of a white blouse on top and a long, dark brown skirt below; it nearly touched the ground. The bodice was light brown. Her wimple, tightly framing her shoulders, completed the outfit. She gripped my wrist firmly. Breathing heavily with fear, she held her stomach with her other hand.
"My daughter… come with me…"
I looked at my mother's face. My dark red hair was messy, yet fell straight. Even though I was still a child, my sharp, siren-like eyes drew intense attention. My pale, almost translucent skin, combined with my white dress that reached down to my knees, gave me a delicate, fragile appearance.
"Mother, where are we going?"
My mother tugged me toward the house. She pushed open the dark brown wooden door.
The house was built of mud and clay, reinforced with wood; its roof was covered with straw. As I stepped inside our single-room home, my mother quickly closed the door, its creak echoing through the room. An old, rectangular straw mat covered the floor, muffling the sound of my footsteps.
Heavy, dark brown wooden tables and chairs were arranged inside. On the table lay a white-and-yellow plaid cloth, with a small vase placed on it. The bouquet inside the vase filled the room with the sharp scent of freshly picked lavender; with every breath, the aroma seeped into my lungs.
In the corner of the room stood a wooden bucket, its water clear and gently rippling. Beside it was a small metal pail, rusty and on the verge of decay. Across the room, clothes my mother had sewn swayed lightly on a line stretched from one wall to the other, trembling with the faint breeze.
On the floor lay an old wooden chest, filled with dry bread and preserved food. Right next to it was an open cupboard; inside, wooden spoons, heavy plates, and a few simple vases were arranged with care.
My father suddenly stood up. As he approached us with heavy steps, his thick, red hair fell over his forehead, shadowing his eyes. His wide gray trousers hung loosely, and his light bronze shirt, cinched tightly at the shoulders with suspenders, added to his imposing figure. It was as if a harsh wind had swept through the room; his presence suddenly grew heavy.
My mother looked at him with fear in her eyes. Her lips trembled.
"Our daughter is so small… They won't take her, will they?" she said. Desperation filled her voice; ignoring her tears, she pinched her nose and covered her face with her shaking hand.
My father silently reached for my mother's shoulder. His fingers rested there for a moment; more than his words, his touch carried weight.
"Yes… she is still too small," he whispered.
A loud thud from the door made me startle. The wooden door was yanked harshly, tearing off its hinges and crashing to the floor, scattering broken pieces everywhere. Slowly turning my body, I saw a shadow rise from the darkness.
Amidst the many men, a tall and massive figure stepped forward. Muscles bulged beneath broad shoulders, and his hands gripped two axes, heavy with blood. His fingers were locked onto the cold iron handles. Flesh still dripped from the blades, leaving dark red streaks as they hit the floor. Inside the room, the rusty smell of iron mixed sharply with the stench of blood.
"Take them! Wound the man, but do not touch the woman!" he thundered. The rumble of his voice filled the room like a storm tearing through walls.
The man bent forward with heavy steps, planting one knee forcefully on the floor. When he lifted his head and looked at me, his lips twisted into a sly smirk. The stench of rotting yellow teeth, a mix of fish and sharp alcohol, hit my face with each breath he exhaled.
"Hello," he said, with a mocking, sweet smile.
I hesitated, almost whispering, "H…hello…" when suddenly—
My mother's scream filled the room. Immediately after, my father fell to the ground; the sound echoed on the wooden floor like a sharp clap of thunder. I lunged to run to them, but a pair of hands gripped my shoulders tightly, yanking me backward.
At that moment, I was just a child. I didn't yet know… that I had already become the target.
The edges of his black hair were completely shaved, leaving only a thin strand tied in the center. Half of his face was covered in burn scars; his skin was cracked and darkened, forming a horrific mask that reached beneath his eye. He was of average height, yet his presence seemed to deepen the darkness around him.
"Walk," he said in a hoarse voice. The sound was a muffled growl, sinking into one's bones.
"I want my mother!" I cried, my voice trembling and tearful. I took a quick step back.
The man raised his hand to slap me. For a moment, his fingers stretched, then clenched into a fist. Without waiting for my reaction, he seized me and threw me over his shoulder.
"Let me go! Mother!!" I screamed, pounding his waist with my tiny fists in desperation.
When I lifted my head, my mother was on the ground. Dark red blood trickled from her mouth. My father was beside her… both lifeless. My father's stomach had been stabbed repeatedly, and a deep blade wound struck my mother's chest, right over her heart. Blood seeped between the floorboards, disappearing into the darkness.
"Mother! Father! Wake up! They're taking me, mother!!" I shouted. My voice cracked, my throat burned—but they did not hear me.
I was still in the man's arms. In desperation, I bit his finger hard. He groaned in pain, his hand trembled, and he threw me to the floor. The impact on the wooden floor stole my breath.
I immediately sprang to my feet and started running. My bare feet echoed on the wooden boards. Just as I thought I was about to escape, I ran into someone.
The man grabbed my hair without hesitation. I screamed in pain. He began dragging me across the floor. The wooden planks burned against my back and arms, my skin stinging as if it were on fire.
As the shadow of the ship fell over me, my high-pitched screams filled the dark air. With every drag, my body was consumed by the burning sensation, and tears streamed uncontrollably from my eyes.
We were taken to the lowest deck of the ship. Darkness pressed down over us like a suffocating blanket. The heavy scent of alcohol stung my nose in the stale air. Giant barrels were lined up side by side; the rotting fish inside large wooden chests reeked like carrion. Death seemed to have been presented to us on a golden platter.
There were girls there, the oldest eighteen, the youngest seven. I was only ten.
The man entered, carrying a large tray. He slammed it onto the floor, the sound echoing through the darkness.
"Look at me! Your first meal is bread and soup… It will always be like this. Get used to it!" he said, in a terrifying, commanding tone.
I sank to the floor. With trembling hands, I touched my hair. Clumps of dark red strands fell through my fingers. My eyes filled with tears, which streamed down my cheeks. I covered my face with my hands, trying to stifle my sobs as I sniffled.
One by one, everyone stood up, leaning over their bowls to take their food. The sound of wooden spoons striking the barrels echoed through the vast emptiness.
"Why aren't you taking yours?" asked one of the guards on duty, frowning.
"I'll eat at home. My mother's cooking is much better… If you want, you can come too; my mother will make some for you," I said innocently, smiling.
There was a moment of silence. Then everyone burst into laughter. Even some of the girls looked at me with bitter smiles.
One by one, everyone stood up, leaning over their bowls to take their food. The sound of wooden spoons striking the barrels echoed through the vast emptiness.
"Why aren't you taking yours?" asked one of the guards on duty, frowning.
"I'll eat at home. My mother's cooking is much better… If you want, you can come too; my mother will make some for you," I said innocently, smiling.
There was a moment of silence. Then everyone burst into laughter. Even some of the girls looked at me with bitter smiles.
A short, black-haired man ladling soup from a large cauldron showed his teeth as he spoke:
"There's no going home anymore. Your new home… a little palace, I suppose!"
Suddenly, one of the girls among them stood up. Her dark brown hair was disheveled, and she wore a torn black dress. With a cunning and harsh tone, she fixed her gaze and said:
"You'll stay here now!"
"What!.." I stammered, my voice trembling as I looked at her in surprise.
The girl's eyes were locked into the darkness. Her face glimmered in the dim candlelight through the strands of her messy brown hair. Her lips moved, and her voice slowly spread like an echo:
"They already knew… that they would take us."
Suddenly, everyone fell silent, turning their full attention to her. I held my breath, listening intently.
The girl brought the flickering candle close to her face. The dim light revealed her burn scars and the dark circles beneath her eyes, one by one. Then, in a near-whisper, but with wide eyes, she said:
"They're going to sell each of us to different countries."
After a brief pause, her voice rose like a scream, shaking the candle's flame:
"They'll torture us there… We will all die!!!"
Her words cut through the air like a knife. At that moment, everyone screamed; echoes collided in the dim, suffocating darkness of the ship.
But the girl… she began to laugh. Amid the screams, she laughed like a madwoman. There was no hope in her voice; only a frenzied acceptance.
A girl sitting beside me, three years younger than I, began to cry in fear. Her tiny hands trembled. I held her, pressing her head to my shoulder. As her tears mixed with mine, the only thing I could hear was the simultaneous echo of screams and laughter in the darkness.
"Lies… don't believe it," I whispered, my voice trembling.
The girl turned her head toward me. There was a contemptuous glint in her eyes. She twisted her lips and spoke as if spitting:
"Lies? You little fool… You have no idea what's coming."
As her words hung in the air, the door suddenly slammed open. The wooden door struck the wall with a loud crash as the metal latch hit. The shadow that poured in fell over the dim light, plunging everyone into silence.
Not a single breath was taken; everyone turned to the door, holding back their fear. Eyes followed the silhouette emerging from the darkness.
"Cut the nonsense! Sleep!" the man's voice thundered. The rumble from his body seemed to shake the wooden skeleton of the ship.
When morning came, I woke to the noisy voices of the men:
"Wake up!"
In reality, we were in the lowest deck of the ship; we hadn't even noticed the morning arrive. This was a bitter, suffocating truth.
They took each of the girls aged eighteen to sixteen one by one. I had cried so much that the ones left behind watched us; before leaving, one of them stared at the men with trembling eyes.
"I'll get dressed," the girl said quietly.
"Everyone out, dress quickly!" the man ordered, his gaze scanning her sharply.
As the girl looked at us, she changed her clothes. The silence was broken only by the rustling of fabric.
"Listen to me!" she said, her voice full of seriousness. "They will take you to the little palace. Do not be afraid; it may be very dangerous there. But you must stay strong. You will be trained until you are seventeen, then you will become the King's concubines in different places and—"
At that moment, the door suddenly banged open.
A man shouting, "I'm opening the door!" turned to the girl and took her away.
Everyone began to cry, tearing through the silence. Our screams echoed off the wooden walls. If our mothers had been here, I'm sure they would have wiped our tears, held us close, and comforted us, even for a moment.
"Calm… calm down…"
My eyes were filling with tears too. We didn't know what they would do to us… Our small bodies were experiencing such a heavy burden for the first time. We didn't know what to do amidst our tears. Like a waterfall whose current knows no end, we flowed, unaware of how far this weight would reach.
I looked at all of them. In a quiet, trembling voice, I said, "Girls, stay calm… Crying only frightens us, makes us seem weak, remember that." They all looked at me with watery eyes, their trembling lips slightly parted.
"But what will they do to us?" asked one of the girls, around eight years old. She was blonde, fair-skinned; her eyes were red from crying, her cheeks still damp.
I couldn't answer. I didn't know myself. We were being swept along helplessly, like a leaf carried by the wind.
"They're going to kill us all!" shouted another girl, her voice trembling, yet filled with resolute fear.
At that moment, everyone began screaming again. The cries overlapped, echoing through the dark lower deck of the ship. My heart raced, my throat burned, and the cold hand of fear gripped my neck.
The door slammed open.
"Line up!" shouted a man.
We all quietly fell into line and stepped off the ship. The fresh air was different… The sea sparkled brilliantly. We were at the port of a small town; on the edge, likely a trading table had been set up for us to be handed over to other people.
"Get in line!"
We all knelt down. But at that moment, a scream echoed.
"What happened?" I asked, turning to another girl beside me.
"One of the girls here resisted… The men are going to punish her with a whip," she said, her voice trembling with fear.
"What!?"
"She deserved it… we know she's going to be beaten. But she could have followed a calmer plan instead," the girl added, her eyes wandering to the ground.
"Quiet… what nonsense are you talking?" I snapped, looking at her with disgust.
The girl was covered in blood; her skin, clothes, and hair were stained red.
"Stop! Don't do this!" I shouted, my voice trembling but firm.
"So, you're defying us, huh?" said the man holding the whip, his eyes blazing with anger.
"This makes no sense," I said, controlling my breath.
"What?" the man asked, the whip frozen in the air, his eyes now wide with surprise as they turned toward me.
"You're going to take this girl to the palace and leave her like this? I will treat her," I said, my voice both commanding and resolute.
The man paused for a moment. Then he nodded:
"Yes, you're right. Take care of her immediately! Bring her inside. Take these two. The rest… sell them. We'll deal with these two later."
Quickly, we brought the girl to an empty room, like a box, with only a round window. I gently set her down on the floor.
Water, cloth, medicine…
I laid her on her stomach. Carefully, I opened her clothes, wet the cloth with water, and cleaned her wounds. Then I applied the medicine, spreading it around the injuries. I didn't know much about medicine, but I did what I could.
"Are you okay?" I asked, smiling.
"None of your business!" the girl said, adjusting her clothes.
"Get well soon," I said, standing up.
"Look at you, fool, we're the last ones," she said in a harsh tone.
"And what about that?" I asked, frowning.
"They're going to kill us."
"What?!"
"Let's run… The last ones are either killed or taken for themselves," the girl said, her eyes a mixture of fear and pain.
I slowly stood up, bringing my hand to my chin. "I have a plan…" I said, quiet but determined.
"Then tell me," she said in a low voice.
Suddenly, I shouted:
"Help! Someone, help!"
My voice echoed against the walls of the small room. My heart raced; fear and hope tangled within me.
The girl stood up. Her skin was wheat-colored, her hair tied at the back in shades of gold. She grabbed my shoulder firmly and looked at me, asking:
"What are you doing?"
"Can you act?" I asked quietly.
The girl slowly released my shoulder and let out a deep sigh.
"Yes… my mother and brother… we'll find them along the way, of course, if we escape," she said, smiling. Then she lay down and closed her eyes.
Suddenly, the door swung open. The men entered, this time in greater numbers.
"What happened?" they shouted.
"The girl has a fever! Call a doctor immediately!" I cried, panic and fear in my voice.
"No!" said one of the men, his tone sharp and harsh.
"But… she's about to die! Please!" I yelled, desperate.
The man paused for a moment, then threw the bottle of alcohol to the ground. The glass shattered on the floor. Immediately after, he picked up a shard and grabbed the girl's hair roughly.
The girl opened her eyes wide in shock. Without hesitation, the man pressed the glass against her carotid artery. Blood spurted everywhere—onto her face, her hair, even the floor. The girl's blood splashed onto my face. My eyes widened in disbelief. For a moment, I almost froze in place.
The man murmured in a cold, calm voice:
"Throw her corpse into the sea."
I brought my hand to my face; I felt the cold, sticky texture of the blood. With my trembling hand, I wiped it off and looked at the dark red liquid, trying to swallow. But it felt as if something was stuck in my throat; I couldn't breathe, couldn't swallow.
They dragged the girl out of the room by her hair. The sound of their footsteps on the wooden floor echoed in the silent room. Her body trembled, hanging like a helpless weight.
A frail man appeared, holding a rusty metal bucket and a sponge stained gray. As he moved the sponge across the floor, each motion seemed almost in slow motion. As the sponge absorbed the blood, the dark red liquid slowly seeped between the boards, filling the room with the sharp smell of metal and iron.
In the dim light, the blood on the sponge glistened; each drop intensified the silence and horror in the room. I stood frozen against the wall, unable to look away. The girl's helplessness and the dark color of the blood etched into my mind like a horrifying image, slowly imprinting itself.
Every movement felt slow, dramatic, and terrifying, as if time itself had stopped. A suppressed scream rose inside me, and my breath caught.
"This," the man said, pointing the blood-covered shard of glass at me, "take it to our leader; let him decide."
Two men grabbed my arms tightly. I couldn't move; with every step, the boards beneath us creaked and echoed.
They led me to the upper deck of the ship. My heart pounded as we climbed the narrow stairs. At the top, we reached the heavy wooden door of a room. They knocked.
"Come…" a voice called from inside.
My breath caught; the silence, combined with the darkness in the room, created a suffocating pressure.
A broad-shouldered, blonde man with a topknot sat inside, a deep scar etched across his face. Two girls were massaging his shoulders, slightly breaking the silence.
"What should we do with this girl?" the man asked, his voice sharp and harsh.
"Why didn't you sell her to the little palace too?" another man said, his tone equally severe.
"Are we slaves? Let us go!" I shouted. My voice was hoarse, my throat burned; my words echoed like screams.
The man laughed, then suddenly stopped and spoke in a cold, calm voice:
"Yes, you are slaves! The girl is quite beautiful. Give her to the king as a gift, on me… Whether she's lucky, I can't say."
"Sir! Not the king, the sultan," another man said cautiously.
"Whatever… half-wit," the blonde man muttered angrily, frowning...