in the bustling heart of istanbul’s grand bazaar, the air was thick with the scent of spices and the hum of merchants shouting over one another. the city was alive, its rhythm ever-changing. efsun walked through the crowd, her eyes sharp, her movements graceful. she was no ordinary woman; her beauty was captivating, but it was her presence that made others pause, as if the air itself shifted when she entered a room. a powerful sorceress, feared and respected by many, she carried herself with the quiet confidence of someone who had seen and done things most could not imagine.
efsun had come to the market for a simple errand—though it rarely remained simple for someone like her. as she navigated through the colorful stalls, her gaze fell upon a man who stood out amidst the chaos. turgut paşa, known as sadrazam ateşzade, the grand vizier of the ottoman empire, was not a figure easily ignored. clad in dark, imposing robes with the unmistakable insignia of his rank, he commanded the attention of those around him without a word. he was a man of power, a man of action, but today, in the midst of the marketplace, he seemed out of place.
his eyes met hers. for a brief moment, time seemed to slow. efsun could sense the man’s authority, his calculated confidence. he was not a fool, nor was he someone who could be easily manipulated. yet, she knew there was something about him, something he hid beneath the layers of political power and pride. intrigued, she took a few steps closer, weaving her way through the crowd until she stood just a few feet away from him.
without a word, sadrazam turgut paşa turned to face her. his sharp features and cold, calculating eyes assessed her in an instant. “i do not believe we’ve met,” he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of someone who had commanded armies and made kings tremble.
“i don’t believe we have,” efsun replied smoothly, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. she knew the stories of turgut paşa—the ruthless politician, the man who would do anything to maintain his power. but today, he was nothing more than another pawn in the game that she played so well.
“you’ve entered the lion’s den, little sorceress,” turgut paşa continued, his tone almost mocking. “tell me, what is it you seek in such a humble place?”
efsun raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his words. “i seek nothing,” she said, her voice sweet but laced with hidden danger. “i am simply here to see what the world is willing to show me.”
turgut paşa’s lips tightened into a thin line. he could sense the underlying challenge in her words. he had been surrounded by sycophants his entire life, people who feared him, people who worshipped him. but this woman—this sorceress—did not fear him. and that, in itself, was an enigma.
before he could respond, a commotion broke out behind them. a man, clearly intoxicated, began singing loudly, disrupting the flow of business. his voice was off-key and grating, causing several nearby merchants to shout at him to stop. the scene quickly escalated as the man grew more defiant, his insults directed at the vendors and passersby alike.
sadrazam turgut paşa’s expression darkened. such behavior, in the heart of his city, was intolerable. without a second thought, he drew his sword with swift precision, cutting the man down in an instant. the crowd fell silent, the only sound the thudding of the body hitting the ground.
efsun watched, her eyes narrowing. she had seen injustice before, but this was different. it wasn’t just a man’s life being snuffed out without thought—it was the arrogance, the coldness of it, that struck her. she could feel the imbalance, the oppression. and she could not let it pass.
with a subtle flick of her wrist, the air around them shifted. a cold wind blew, and the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. efsun’s eyes glowed with an otherworldly light as she whispered words of power, ancient and dark. the magic wrapped around turgut paşa, and for a brief moment, his breath caught in his throat. he felt the weight of her magic, a pressure against his chest that made him feel vulnerable, exposed.
“you think you can do as you please in this world?” efsun’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a thousand storms. “power may give you control, but it also makes you a target. and i will make sure you remember this moment.”
turgut paşa, despite his experience with power, felt something stir inside him—something he couldn’t control. but even in the face of efsun’s magic, he remained defiant. his pride was his armor.
“you are bold, sorceress,” he growled, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. “but you forget who i am.”
“i don’t forget,” efsun replied coolly, her gaze unwavering. “but you will.”
the tension between them was palpable, a clash of two powerful forces. one with the strength of magic, the other with the force of political power. and in that moment, neither of them was willing to back down.
