Not from any push, but under its own weight, as if the wood itself can no longer hold that silence. Night stands outside the chamber. Vast. Indifferent. Looking through the window, the sky feels so deep that it seems once you look into it, you will never return.
Silence all around. But this is not the silence from before. This is the silence of preparation. A silence that opens a path.
About twenty shadows stand without concern. No one is trying to do anything.
Far away, the call of a nocturnal bird is heard. As the clouds move aside in the sky, a few stars become visible, small, but steady.
Suddenly, inside the chamber, a shadow whistles.
In an instant, the shadows run toward the door. With the sound of thunder, the door is flung open.
Usuf also jumps forward without giving them a chance to escape. One slips from his grip and runs backward. Usuf rushes in one direction by instinct to catch him.
The others melt into the darkness of the night, as if they had never existed.
Usuf manages to catch one person. Under his hand is the face of that body. The man is trembling, unable to scream, only breathing like a torn, wounded dog.
Usuf says to Salih,"Salih. I have caught one."
Usuf does not know whose throat he is holding. Perhaps this man knows the true meaning of the map.
Now the decision is in Usuf's hands. Will he ask?
Outside the window, sky and earth seem to meet on the same line. Darkness, the stars of the sky, both point in the same direction. No sign, no writing. Only direction.
The darkness remains thick.
Within two minutes everything becomes empty and calm. Silence descends again, but this time it crawls on the skin.
And just then… through the gap of the door, a grey light slowly enters. A shadow comes inside.
Who has come now? A new enemy?
Usuf prepares himself. For another fight."Salih, someone is coming. Stay alert."
The man in his grip groans. Usuf pays no attention.
The room feels like a dead cave. Soundless, dark, and heavy with breath. The smell of struggle still lingers in the air, the smell of mystery, and the sharp intensity of sweat from hot bodies moving around.
Usuf sees the person come and light a candle.
The light flares up. Soft light exposes the entire room.
The person's white beard trembles gently, his gaze sharp, as if stone is being cut by those eyes. That old man whose aged eyes seem to have lost some of their own certainty in the darkness. Mahadi Dadu. The owner of this hotel.
As the light comes on, Mahadi Dadu's lips tremble. He sees Usuf holding Salih's face tightly with his hand."What is happening here? Why is it dark everywhere?"
For a moment, the scene freezes. As if someone has thrown a spell and stopped all sound.
Usuf's eyes are blood-red, his muscles bursting with tension, the breath within his face as if he has opened the gates of hell from inside himself. His hand, the hand of a strong, trained fighter, pressed hard against Salih's jaw.
And Salih, who was once the living flag of laziness, with a golden sparkle of mockery in his eyes. Someone who reminded you of a sunny afternoon and a cup of tea just by looking at him. Now he looks like a helpless soul. His eyes are like those of a creature that has not slept for three days.
Usuf looks at the person he is holding. He is stunned. He quickly lets Salih go.
In a moment, it is as if the burning volcano inside Usuf suddenly falls silent. He steps back, exhales a cool breath, a faint shadow under his eyes. Then he looks around and sees no one."Mahadi Dadu, where did you go? A few people came and beat Salih and left."
Mahadi Dadu is shocked."What are you saying? I did not see anyone when I was coming."
The room is empty. Only marks on the walls, a torn piece of cloth lying on the floor, and a whispering sound in the air, belonging to no one, nothing, yet everywhere. He feels that the warmth of someone's skin still remains on his fingers, a returning touch, or the pressure of breath. But there is no one.
Salih cries out in pain. His voice slowly rises,
"I am sure, all the hits I took, you were the one who hit me."
This one sentence, wrapped in humour, yet filled clearly with anger and hurt. His lips are trembling. He has never been beaten like this, especially not by Usuf's hand.
Two handsome, strong boys who grew up together. Who have always considered each other brothers.
Usuf does not respond to Salih. He looks around.
There is no apology in his eyes. He knows someone came. He smelled them. The sound of metal shoes walking away, the harsh scraping against the walls had left the room. His eyes move to the map, that ancient region drawn on dry leather.
And now? Everything is intact. Not even slightly disturbed.
Mahadi Dadu, Salih, and Usuf are all stunned.
None of them can believe what they see. Everything is there. No one is.
What was this?
This question echoes not only in the air, but also inside the heart.
It is such a moment where the question belongs to no one, yet everyone feels forced to answer.
From the map onward, everything is exactly as before.
But that is where the fear lies.
Why should everything remain the same?
Where there were footsteps, where there were whispered breaths, leaving without leaving anything behind, that is the most terrifying thing of all.
But one thing is certain, someone did come. There were shadows in their eyes. There was speed in their movement. They left behind an endless emptiness, faceless, nameless, yet its effect is like an unsheathed sword, held right below the neck.
Why they came, that could not be understood.
Perhaps only to see the map.
Perhaps they came… to let it be known, "We are here."
Perhaps this entire event was nothing more than a kind of mirage.
Mystery, uncertainty.
That strange haze spreads across the room, even though the lights are on it feels as if nothing can be seen. It is as if sounds are floating in the air that cannot be heard, and in the darkness outside the room, someone may still be standing… watching… waiting.
******
The road feels like a dead courtyard. The sky is black, silent, and pressed down under some ancient, deep breath. The air does not move, even the leaves of the trees seem frozen on this night. Somewhere far away, a stone rolls and falls, the sound so clear it feels like someone striking the door of a dead kingdom.
On the dust-covered road, many figures stand like shadows. Grouped together. There is no light in their eyes, yet their presence burns, like fear and a sting. They stand facing each other, and just then, the words are spoken, the voice rough like wood burnt in fire.
One person asks, his voice mixed with poisonous doubt, yet wrapped in terrifying indifference:
"Has the map been copied?"
There is no crack in his voice, as if he did not ask a question, but reminded them of an order. His voice slowly spreads through the night air, and that sound seems to make the road even darker.
Beside him, another stands with head lowered. Long black hair tied in a knot, eyes still like stone.
From behind, only a sound like 'hu' is heard.
It is neither a word nor a language, it is a 'hu' like a breath… as if some underground devil has released a long sigh.
'Hu'. It is not a sign, but a confession. As if someone, or something, knows what truly lies inside the mystery of the map.
Heavier darkness descends all around. The lamps went out long ago, there is no light there now, only the movement of those shadows.
A fake map? If so, then who copied it? Why?
The third person standing nearby, with a strange metal box hanging from his shoulder, silently steps back. No one notices, only he knows that inside this box is the map, and that this moment's drama, this procession of shadows, is all part of his plan.
The night grows darker.
Through the air, suddenly a dry leaf spins and flies… as if an old curse buried inside that fake map has awakened.
And from the distant ravine, an unseen, cold wind blows.
Mystery. And dreams.
But the night is still standing.