Chapter 19 – After the Storm

Chapter 19 – After the Storm

A cold wave struck Murad's face.

The sharpness of the salt stung his lips,

and his breath came in ragged gasps.

For a moment, he couldn't tell if he was alive or trapped in a dream.

When he opened his eyes...

a shoreline.

The sky was gray, the clouds heavy.

Waves battered the coast with relentless force.

The beach was littered with seaweed and broken planks.

The air reeked of sea salt —

like the silence that follows a great storm.

Murad rose slowly, pain burning across his right shoulder.

His skin felt raw, and when he pressed against it,

he felt blood mingled with soot on his fingertips.

He scanned the area.

The shoreline stretched into a forested land,

and beyond that, high cliffs descended sharply into the sea.

His hand instinctively moved to his belt.

Fatih's Sword...

It was still there.

A deep breath filled his lungs,

and a glimmer of peace,

a burden of responsibility,

returned to his chest.

"So... I am alive,"

he murmured,

"But where am I?"

He planted his feet firmly in the sand and gazed ahead.

Far off, atop a hill...

a grand lighthouse gleamed.

Built of stone, tall and white,

its surface weathered by time and moss, but still standing proud.

His eyes widened.

He recognized it.

"This...

this is the lighthouse built by Sultan Süleyman."

He remembered it from the old books he had studied as a child —

the famous lighthouse commissioned by Sultan Süleyman after the conquest of Rhodes, designed by Mimar Sinan.

"So the sea has thrown me onto Rhodes."

He bowed his head slightly.

The wind tossed his hair back.

Sabbah's face flashed in his mind.

That shadow... that speed...

and behind him, the mysterious "master" whose name even whispers feared.

"Why… my sword?"

he wondered.

"What secret lies within it that the darkness itself pursues it?"

He turned his steps toward the lighthouse.

He began to walk slowly.

Along the way, he found broken masts, shattered planks, and tattered cloth.

The ship must have been completely destroyed during the storm.

Further along the shore...

a motionless body.

Murad's pace quickened.

He pressed his hand to his sword and ran.

As he neared...

Kasım.

"Kasım!" he cried, kneeling beside him.

Kasım's face was slightly burned, his skin pale —

but he was breathing.

Murad exhaled a long, deep breath.

"Thank God..." he whispered.

He lightly slapped Kasım's cheeks.

"Kasım... wake up."

Kasım's eyes fluttered open.

The first thing he saw was Murad's face.

Tears welled up in his eyes —

as if a long-forgotten prayer had just been answered.

"Praise be to Allah… you're alive," he said, his voice trembling.

He tried to sit up, struggling.

"In the water…

I saw you, unconscious.

I tried to reach you, but...

the waves… they were too strong.

I failed..."

His head lowered, his voice broke.

"Then…

I let myself drift too.

When I opened my eyes again, I was here...

I must have fainted from exhaustion."

Murad gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

There was no sadness in his gaze — only pride.

"Walking the same path as a loyal man like you…

is fortune itself."

Kasım lowered his eyes.

The footprints scattered on the sand now pointed toward a different fate.

Murad helped him sit up slowly.

The sea was still rough, but the first light of dawn was tearing through the horizon.

Kasım tried to stand, but his body was too weak.

Murad softly held him back.

"Rest a while.

You are alive —

and for now, that is enough."

They sat side by side.

At their feet, a shard of driftwood swayed with the tide.

Kasım quietly asked:

"What about the others…

Cafer? Balibey?"

Murad turned his gaze to the sea.

"I don't know.

But if they live… they will find us."

Kasım nodded, lips trembling with emotion —

grateful simply to be alive, to still be beside his Sultan.

For a time, they simply sat there.

The wind carried their hair,

and the sea still whispered echoes of the past.

After resting and catching their breath,

Murad and Kasım moved inland along the forest's edge.

Their clothes were still damp, their steps heavy but determined.

The sun was beginning to break through the clouds.

They walked in silence for a while.

Then Kasım turned to Murad:

"My Sultan…

Before the journey, Balibey mentioned an inn where we would stay if we reached Rhodes...

The Black Swan Inn."

Murad tilted his head slightly, listening intently.

"If they are alive,

they will go there.

We should head that way too.

We can ask someone for directions along the road."

Murad nodded.

"Your memory and your wisdom guide us now, Kasım.

Lead the way."

They moved on.

Their weary feet left new prints along the dusted path to Rhodes.

Soon, they encountered a farmer trudging along the dirt road,

a basket strapped to his back and a spade in hand.

The man's face was weathered by the sun but softened with kindness.

Kasım stepped forward and asked politely:

"Sir, is there a place here called the Black Swan Inn?"

The farmer nodded and spoke after catching his breath:

"Aye, there is.

It stands under the shadow of Kritinia Castle, in the western square of the city.

It's the only large inn around there.

Merchants and travelers often stay there."

Murad's brow furrowed slightly.

"Kritinia..." he murmured.

He remembered.

During the siege of Rhodes,

the Knights of St. John had made their fiercest stand at Kritinia.

Its stones still bore the scent of gunpowder and blood.

Murad lowered his head slightly.

"Once again… we walk upon the traces of history."

Kasım seemed to understand the weight of it too.

They continued their journey without words.

The wind was warmer now.

Dust rose from the earth, and the sun stretched like a taut string between the sky and the land.

The road awaited them.

And the shadows…

had not yet fully dispersed.