All Chapters of Hellblades: Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

Manolya’s POV I jolted awake, my breath stuck in my throat. Dad’s voice carried through the wall, heavy with guilt.“Rüya… Rüya…” His words trembled, twisting something deep inside me. It was always like this when that dream haunted him, a desperate plea, like he was fighting a battle he’d already lost. Mom’s name hung in the air, a ghost that hollowed me out every time. I sat up, pressing my back against the white headboard of my bed. As I sat up, the plush rug brushed soft under my feet, but a chill snaked through me. “Aziz,” I whispered, glancing at my black cat perched on the windowsill. His yellow eyes glowed in the dark, steady and calm. “He’s at it again, isn’t he?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Aziz purred low, a rumbling comfort, tilting his head like he understood, really understood, in a way no one else did. “What am I supposed to do, huh?” I muttered, reaching out to stroke his soft fur. “Dad won’t let me in. He never does...” Aziz meowed softly, nudging m

Manolya’s POVOur house was a blend of coastal turquoise, white, and navy, with space for traditional touches like Turkish scenery paintings and some of my father’s clients’ artwork.It was very tasteful, with modern interpretations of Renaissance styles from his clients. The kitchen cabinets were painted in glossy white, and the dining table was a long, whitewashed oak piece with enough chairs for all of us.The chairs had a slightly curved design that probably cost a fortune, and my dad absolutely loved them.The living room was spacious, filled with exotic plants like hibiscus and a small lemon tree. We had square beige sofas and a soft, geometric-patterned rug in a creamy latte shade with subtle black accents.My dad, Emre, had an entire bookcase crammed with art history volumes, a few thrillers, and some rather mysterious books on the occult.Wide windows opened toward the beach, where you could see the waves crashing against the shore. A large smart TV hung on the wall, and the

Manolya´s POV The moment I stepped out on the airport terminal, a wall of hot, humid air pricked my nostrils, thick with jet fuel, blooming jasmine, and wet concrete. Rain pattered softly from the stormy sky, the clouds still heavy from the morning’s downpour. My eyes darted to the exit, and there they were, my three cousins, each gripping a sleek black rolling bag, the kind with a top handle that clicks just right. Pelin, my age, stood tall and composed, while Adem and Adlee, her twin brothers, bounced on their toes like wound-up springs, black sneakers tapping the polished floor in sync. Their grins stretched wide, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Manolya!” Pelin called, her voice cutting through the buzz of the crowd, sharp and clear over the rain’s soft drum. She looked effortlessly cool in her all-black outfit, white-striped sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie. I felt a little self-conscious in my flowy green dress, the hem brushing my knees, damp from the misty air. Her li

Manolya´s POV I sat in the old woman’s living room, the scent of fresh detergent mixing with the smell of black tea. The light brown baroque leather sofa and blue oriental rugs gave the room a timeless, worn elegance. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the air still felt heavy, the remnants from the storm hung damp in the air. The trimmed courtyard visible through the neat windows. Uncle Eren walked ahead with his relaxed swagger, like he already knew the deal was done. I followed close, adjusting the strap on my shoulder bag, my thoughts drifting to Ipek. Where was she? Why hadn’t anyone found her? The elderly woman greeted us at the door, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, a knowing glint in her gaze like she expected more than a transaction. “Selamün Aleyküm, Mrs. Nuriye” I said softly, nodding respectfully. “Aleyküm Selam, kızım,” she replied, her voice light, almost amused, as her eyes flicked from me to Uncle Eren. “Come in, make yourselves comfortable.” We stepped