The village of Sivan, attached to the Genç district of Bingöl… No, from now on, this will be Sencer's village. This land, which snuck slyly into the bosom of the mountains and was washed by the freedom songs of the wind, would now be known by his name. The village, lying like a sleepy eagle in the shadow of steep cliffs, would surrender in spring to the fury of flowers, and in winter to the tyranny of white silence. But this story begins with a grief far heavier than the cycle of seasons.
Sencer was exactly eighteen years old. His shoulders seemed to have collapsed under a burden much heavier than the test books carried by his peers. He was in his final year of high school; exams, future anxiety, university dreams… None of that meant anything next to that deep, indescribable emptiness gnawing at him. He had lost his mother. The woman who brought him into this world, shared his first breath, stroked his hair when he was afraid of the dark, was gone.
A pitch-black mourning had fallen over the village. That suffocating, damp, whispering crowd at the condolence house… People's words of "May you live long, it is God's decree" turned into a meaningless buzz in his ears. Everyone's eyes were on him, looking as if to say, "Cry, my son, cry and feel better." But Sencer did not cry. He was a young man who spoke with his fists, who wielded justice like a sharp blade. He was the most rebellious, most "headstrong" student in school. But that day, for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to "fix." His greatest reproach was to the heavens.
Without even taking his jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he started walking towards the magnificent mountain at the top of the village. Behind him, whispers remained: "What state is that child in? God give him patience," said the neighbor women. "His mother died, and he's still rebellious," murmured the grandfathers. Sencer didn't hear them. He just walked.
When he reached the mountain slope, the sky suddenly unleashed its fury. The rain that had been falling gently until then was now pouring down like a flood. Lightning struck the Sivan Mountains, thunder shook the valley. Sencer, drenched under the rain, sat on a rock. His heart was as chaotic as the storm above him. He opened his hands to the sky. He didn't know what he was saying; he just wanted to shout out that immense rebellion, that burning pain.
"Don't go, I told you not to go, mother!" he shouted into the void. His voice drowned in the howl of the wind. "I haven't even finished high school yet! I was going to buy you a car! Where are you going like this?!"
His tears mixed with the raindrops. Sencer was crying. For the first time, in a place no one could see, on the mountain, under the storm, he was sobbing. "You said you'd find me a bride when I grew up? You said you'd love your grandchildren? Was it all a lie? All of it?!"
Just then, as if the universe was answering Sencer's anger, a blinding, purplish lightning struck the hill just a few meters away from him with a terrible roar. Such a roar that he thought the world was splitting. The force of the explosion threw Sencer backwards, and he fell on his back. The earth shook, the rocks groaned, as if a giant hand was trying to split the mountain in two. A sharp smell of burning and ozone filled his nose. His ears were ringing, his head spinning.
Struggling to get up, Sencer looked at the spot where the lightning had struck, and his breath caught. The heart of the mountain was split in two, not by a surgeon's scalpel, but by a giant's axe. A huge, deep crevice… A faint, amber-coloured light seeping from inside pierced the darkness of the rain. That light reminded him of the kerosene lamp his mother used to light for him when he was little. Warm, inviting, and strangely peaceful.
Sencer, who should have been cautious, walked towards the crevice driven by an unstoppable curiosity and a strange pull. A sensible young man would have thought, "What am I doing here? It might collapse." But that day, he was a young man who had lost his mother, who had experienced the greatest pain in the world. He wasn't afraid of death. Maybe he wanted to die a little. So he walked.
When he entered the crevice, the sound of the storm outside suddenly stopped. As if he had put on headphones and muted the world. The cave was enveloped in an ancient silence. The walls trembled slightly as if alive, the dust on the floor hung in the air. This silence scratched at Sencer's ears. He could hear his own heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump…
As Sencer progressed, the cave opened into a large chamber. In the middle of the chamber stood a stone sarcophagus, plain but so majestic it commanded one to kneel. The inscriptions on the sarcophagus were moss-covered and unreadable. But he noticed that the stone of the sarcophagus was not grey, but slightly bluish. As if a piece of night had been imprisoned in the stone.
And on the sarcophagus… A sword floating in the air.
Sencer's breath stopped. The sword did not shine; on the contrary, it was made of a matte, grey steel that absorbed all the light around it. Its hilt resembled an eagle's claw, and its blade looked incredibly thin, as if it had been sharpened for thousands of years. There were no inscriptions, no ornaments on it. Just steel. Just sharpness. Just justice.
Sencer was a religious young man. A lad who never missed his prayers, kept his fast, and never forgot his mother's supplications. This moment was not like treasure hunting; it was like a pilgrimage. He felt he was in the presence of a saint, a great figure. He knelt on the spot. He opened his hands to the sky. As his mother had taught him since childhood, he began to recite the Fatiha, feeling every word from his heart.
"Bismillahirrahmanirrahim. Alhamdu lillahi rabbil 'alameen…"
His voice echoed off the damp walls of the cave. His voice bounced back from the walls, as if the cave itself was accompanying him.
As soon as the prayer ended, a pure white, radiant beam of light appeared at the head of the sarcophagus. So white that it made Sencer squint. From within the light, the spirit of an old man with a white beard, wearing a coarse but clean dervish cloak, glided out. The old man's eyes were so clear and deep that they could see the deepest part of Sencer's soul. Those eyes carried the weariness of thousands of years, but they were still shining.
"It's been a long time…" said the spirit. His voice echoed in Sencer's mind like a wind coming from thousands of years away. "Oh son, was it you who prayed for me?"
Sencer answered with a trembling voice: "Yes, master… Forgive me, I didn't mean to disturb you. I came here by accident… Lightning struck…"
The old man raised his hand to silence him. That hand was so radiant that faint lights scattered from his fingertips. "There's no need to explain, son. My time is short, I must remain in this long sleep until my time comes. The sword summoned you here. I found it centuries ago… It's said to belong to Dhul-Qarnayn. This 'Sword of Justice' will bring you great surprises. Even if I told you now, neither your mind would believe it nor your heart be at ease."
Sencer looked at the sword floating in the air. The sword trembled slightly, as if animated by his gaze. "Are you really giving this sword to me? I can't carry it outside… People would be afraid. I'm… I'm still a high school student."
The spirit smiled faintly. That smile moved thousands of lines on his face. "Don't worry, it doesn't always appear as it seems. Tell me, child, what is today's date?"
"We are in the year 2026, master. May I ask your name?"
The spirit's image slowly began to fade. It was becoming transparent, its light weakening. "So seven hundred years have passed… They call me Sari Saltuk, child. Never, ever forget this: Never deviate from righteousness! If you corrupt your scales of justice, this sword will suddenly abandon you one day. And on that day, it will find someone worse than you."
Sari Saltuk extended his right index finger towards the sword. A pure white, flawless light from his fingertip struck the sword. With that light, the sword let out a faint hum, as if waking from a thousand-year sleep. Then he pointed his finger at Sencer.
After a moment of silence, the sword traced an arc in the air and lunged towards Sencer. Sencer tried to step back in fear, but the sword, like a ghost, entered Sencer's chest without causing any pain and disappeared. He just felt a brief coolness on his chest. Then it was over.
Sencer checked his body in horror. He felt his chest with his hands; there was no wound, no scar. But there, two finger-widths below his heart, he felt a strange warmth. "Where did it go? What have you done to me?"
"Child, what are you still waiting for!" thundered Sari Saltuk's silhouette. It was now almost completely gone, just a shadow. The ceiling of the cave had begun to crack. Large pieces of stone were falling, the ground was shaking. "The entrance is closing! Run! Never forget! Justice! Justice!"
Sencer, struggling to keep his balance inside the shaking cave, lunged towards the crevice. Stones were falling behind him, dust was burning his throat. As he threw himself out with a final burst, the entrance opened by the lightning collapsed with a loud crash. The surface of the mountain closed up as if it had never been split. Only a few cracks remained to remind that something had once been there.
Under the rain, on his knees, Sencer was left breathless. He was covered in mud, water dripping from his hair. Even though he wanted to believe what he had just seen, he lived in the modern world; the year was 2026, ruled by mobile phones, the internet, a materialistic life. But the sword… It was now inside Sencer. Two finger-widths below his heart, he felt a strange warmth. He put his hand on his chest. Warm… So warm, as if it would never end.
That night, when he returned home and lay down on his bed, he saw his mother in a dream. His mother, dressed in pure white, was smiling. "Don't go, mother!" he cried out into the darkness, but his mother just smiled and walked away. Immediately after, the dream changed; he found himself in pitch-black darkness, with a gigantic sword in his hand, cutting down monsters pouring from the sky.
When Sencer woke up, his pillow was wet with tears.