Chapter 1: The Land Where the Sun Rises
The earth had yet to shake off the remnants of night. As the stars faded slowly from the heavens, the sun, rising in the east, cast a golden touch upon the plain. The grass, trembling with spring's tender breath, stood still and meek like lambs huddled together in the morning chill.
Aytekin, clad in the felt jacket his father had commissioned years ago, walked barefoot along the water path behind their home, making his way to the stream's head. As he did every morning, he first sat upon the flat stone at the rocky edge and listened to the murmuring of the water. It was as if the world had not yet been stained, as if time had not yet begun. In those moments, the weight of the past held no sway, nor did the shadow of the future.
Aytekin was twelve. Not quite a child, not yet a young man... His age was suspended between the softness of his voice and the solemnity in his eyes. The warmth of his mother's morning kiss still lingered on his brow, while his mind lingered on his brother Bayram's stubborn antics from earlier that day.
Bayram had just turned nine. Though he appeared frail, a will of stone burned within him. At sunrise, he would rush to the bakery, eager to sink his hands into dough, and when his mother refused, he'd climb to the roof's highest point and mimic crows until the entire village gathered below.
A faint smile tugged at Aytekin's lips at the thought of him. His brother's little mischiefs sprinkled joy into the wearisome rhythm of village life.
When the sky had fully brightened, the distant crowing of roosters echoed from the far side of the village. Soon, thin trails of smoke curled skyward from the chimneys of waking homes. Daily life was stirring.
Aytekin rose quietly, dipped his hand into the stream. The water was ice-cold. When he splashed it onto his face, a shiver ran through him—but he welcomed the jolt. Cold reminded a person they were alive. Like a truth that must not be forgotten.
As he walked home, he glanced back at the footprints he had left behind. The damp earth swallowed each step in silence, like vanishing traces of a path once taken. In that moment, without knowing why, he became aware of something for the first time: some roads cannot be walked twice. And some mornings come only once.