# Bite of Destiny
## Chapter 15: The Mystical Mentor
---
The shadow-kin's offer weighed on them both through a sleepless night.
Demri paced the apartment, cycling through arguments for and against alliance with creatures of darkness. Aylin sat at the kitchen table, nursing cold tea and watching him move, her own thoughts churning beneath a calm exterior.
"We need counsel," she said finally, as dawn began to gray the windows. "Someone who understands this world better than we do."
"Dr. Reyes?"
"Someone else. Someone with a different kind of knowledge." Aylin hesitated. "There's a woman my grandmother used to speak of. Someone she said had guided our family through difficult times before."
"Another supernatural contact?"
"I'm not sure what she is. My grandmother called her *Nene Hazal*—Grandmother Hazal—though she's not related to us by blood. She lives in the old quarter, near the mosque. My grandmother said she was ancient, that she had been advising our family for generations."
"And you never mentioned her before?"
"I wasn't sure she was real. Grandmother's stories always seemed... embellished. Mythic rather than factual." Aylin set down her cup. "But after everything that's happened, I'm willing to believe in embellishments."
*An interesting development*, the curse observed. *If this Hazal is what your grandmother implied, she might be significant.*
"What did your grandmother imply?"
"That Nene Hazal walked between worlds. That she understood things ordinary people couldn't perceive. That when the family faced impossible choices, she was the one who helped them find the right path."
Demri stopped pacing. "Then we should find her."
"We? I thought I would go alone—"
"I'm not letting you wander into unknown supernatural territory by yourself. If this Hazal is powerful enough to advise multiple generations of your family, she's powerful enough to be dangerous."
"Or she's exactly what we need." Aylin stood, decision made. "We'll go together. But Demri—let me lead. If she's connected to my family, my grandmother's name might carry weight."
"Agreed."
---
The old quarter was different in the early morning light.
The streets that had seemed charming during Demri's first visit now carried an undercurrent of something older—history layered upon history, secrets buried beneath cobblestones. They passed the mosque where he had recovered his memories, its dome catching the first rays of sunlight, and continued deeper into the neighborhood.
"My grandmother said Nene Hazal lives at the end of a street that doesn't appear on any map," Aylin explained. "You have to find it by feeling rather than looking."
"That's not helpful."
"It's what she told me. She said when you need to find Nene Hazal, you already know the way—you just have to stop thinking so hard."
Demri was skeptical, but he followed Aylin's lead as she moved through the winding streets with a certainty that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than memory. Left at a fountain he didn't remember passing. Right at a building covered in flowering vines. Straight through an archway that seemed too narrow to accommodate them until it suddenly wasn't.
And then they were somewhere else.
The street they stood on should not have existed. It was too long for the space it occupied, too quiet for the bustling neighborhood they had just left. The buildings that lined it were older than anything in the city—centuries older, perhaps more. And at the far end, almost hidden by shadow despite the morning light, stood a small house with a door painted the deep blue of a midnight sky.
"That's it," Aylin said, her voice carrying reverence. "Exactly as grandmother described."
They approached cautiously. Demri's supernatural senses were alert, but the house defied categorization—neither celestial nor shadow, neither mortal nor divine. It simply was, existing outside the frameworks he understood.
The door opened before they could knock.
The woman who stood in the doorway was small and ancient, her face a map of wrinkles that somehow suggested wisdom rather than decay. Her eyes were sharp—too sharp for her apparent age—and they fixed on Demri with an intensity that made him want to step back.
"I wondered when you would come," she said, her voice carrying the music of languages far older than Turkish. "The fallen one and the faithful. An unlikely pairing."
"Nene Hazal?" Aylin asked.
"That is one of my names." The old woman's gaze softened as it moved to Aylin. "You have your grandmother's face. And her courage. She spoke of you often, in the years before her passing."
"You knew her?"
"I knew all the women of your line. Back and back and back, to the first who came to this land seeking shelter from storm." She stepped aside, gesturing them to enter. "Come. We have much to discuss, and time moves strangely in my home."
---
The interior of the house was impossible.
From outside, the building had seemed modest—a single-story dwelling, narrow and plain. Inside, it stretched in directions that architecture did not permit. Rooms opened onto rooms, corridors curved into spaces that should not have fit, and everywhere there were objects that seemed to shimmer at the edge of perception.
"Sit," Hazal said, guiding them to a circular room dominated by a low table and cushions arranged in a pattern Demri did not recognize. "I will make tea."
She disappeared into a doorway that had not been there moments before, leaving them alone with the strangeness.
"This place," Demri murmured. "It's not entirely in the mortal realm."
"No. It exists between. A pocket of stability in the spaces where reality grows thin." Hazal's voice carried clearly, though she was no longer visible. "I have maintained it for... a long time. It is useful for conversations that require privacy."
She reappeared with a tray bearing three cups and a pot that steamed with fragrant vapor. The tea she poured was unlike anything Demri had encountered—golden in color, with a scent that evoked memories he did not possess.
"Drink," she said. "It will help you speak truth and hear wisdom."
Demri hesitated, but Aylin drank without pause. After a moment, he followed suit. The liquid was warm and slightly sweet, and as it spread through his system, he felt barriers within him softening. Not dangerously—not the way the hunger demanded—but gently, as if parts of himself that had been locked were being invited to open.
"You came seeking counsel," Hazal said. "About an offer from the darkness."
"You know about that?"
"I know many things. The shadows speak, when one knows how to listen. And they have been speaking of you, Demri of the Fallen, for some time." Her ancient eyes fixed on him. "They find you confusing. A cursed being who resists the curse. A darkness that reaches toward light. You do not fit their categories."
"I'm trying not to fit anyone's categories."
"A noble aspiration. But the universe prefers order. That which defies classification is often destroyed." She sipped her tea. "Tell me of the offer you received."
Demri recounted the shadow-kin's visit—the proposal of alliance, the promise of mutual benefit, the warning that Azarion was moving against them. Hazal listened without interruption, her expression revealing nothing.
"And what troubles you about this offer?" she asked when he finished.
"Everything. The shadow-kin are creatures of darkness. They exist to corrupt, to consume, to extinguish light. Allying with them feels like betraying everything I've been fighting for."
"And yet they offer assistance against a common enemy."
"Which could be a trap. A way to lure me into complicity with darkness."
"Could be. Might be. Perhaps is." Hazal set down her cup. "Let me tell you something about darkness, fallen one. You think of it as the opposite of light—as evil opposed to good, destruction opposed to creation. But that is a child's understanding."
"Then what is darkness?"
"Darkness is absence. The space where light has not yet reached. It is not inherently evil any more than an empty room is inherently threatening." Her voice carried the weight of long experience. "What fills that darkness—that is what matters. The shadow-kin are creatures shaped by particular choices, particular hungers. But they were not always what they are. Once, they were something else. And they might become something else again."
"You're saying I should trust them?"
"I'm saying trust is the wrong framework. The question is not whether they are trustworthy, but whether the relationship you build with them points toward something better." Hazal leaned forward. "Everything that exists can change. Light can become darkness. Darkness can become light. The patterns shift constantly, driven by choices, by will, by the courage to imagine different possibilities."
*She speaks of transformation*, the curse observed. *Something I have contemplated but never fully understood.*
"What does that mean for my decision?"
"It means you should stop thinking about the shadow-kin as enemies or allies and start thinking about them as beings on a path. Their offer of alliance is not just strategic—it is existential. They are asking if they can become something other than what they have been." Hazal's eyes were piercing. "Can you help them answer that question?"
---
Aylin had been quiet during this exchange, observing with the focused attention of someone absorbing new information. Now she spoke.
"Nene Hazal, my grandmother said you guided our family through difficult times. What kind of guidance did you provide?"
Hazal smiled, and the expression transformed her ancient face into something almost youthful. "Your grandmother was always the clever one. Cutting straight to the heart of things."
"She learned from you."
"She learned from many teachers. I was merely one of them." Hazal shifted her attention fully to Aylin. "The women of your line have carried a particular gift, passed down through generations. You call it faith, but it is more than belief. It is the ability to see light in darkness, hope in despair, possibility in impossibility."
"I've always had strong convictions—"
"Convictions are cheap. What you have is sight." Hazal reached out and touched Aylin's forehead, a light brush of ancient fingers. "You perceive what others cannot. The glow of souls, the weight of choices, the texture of truth and falsehood. That is why you trusted Demri when others would have fled. That is why you see potential where others see only threat."
"I thought I just had good instincts."
"Instincts and sight are related. But sight can be trained, refined, made more powerful." Hazal withdrew her hand. "I offered this training to your grandmother, and to her mother before her. Each accepted, in their own way, and each grew stronger for it."
"What kind of training?"
"The cultivation of perception. Learning to see not just what is, but what could be. Understanding the currents that flow between beings, the choices that shape destiny, the moments where intervention can change everything." Hazal's voice grew more serious. "It is not easy training. It requires facing truths about yourself that you may not wish to see. But if you accept it, you will become something more than you are now."
Demri felt a surge of protective concern. "Is this safe?"
"Nothing is safe. But the training itself is not dangerous." Hazal addressed Aylin directly. "The choice is yours. I offer what I offered to those who came before. Whether you accept depends on what you believe you can become."
Aylin was quiet for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. Then she nodded.
"I accept."
"Good. Then we begin."
---
The training started with silence.
Hazal led Aylin to a smaller room—one that seemed to exist specifically for this purpose—and instructed her to sit in the center while the ancient woman arranged candles in a pattern around her.
"Close your eyes," Hazal said. "Breathe. Find the stillness beneath thought."
Demri watched from the doorway, uncertain whether his presence was permitted. Hazal glanced at him.
"You may stay. Witnessing the training of another can be instructive for those who walk their own paths."
"I'm not being trained."
"All of existence is training. The only question is what we learn." She returned her attention to Aylin. "Now. Tell me what you see with your eyes closed."
"Nothing. Darkness."
"Look deeper. Darkness is never truly empty."
Aylin's breathing slowed. After a moment, she spoke again. "I see... patterns. Currents, moving in the dark. Some bright, some dim."
"Those are souls. Every being leaves traces in the fabric of reality. What you perceive are the impressions of those who have passed through this space."
"There are so many of them."
"This room has hosted centuries of seekers. Their presences linger." Hazal's voice became more instructive. "Now, focus on a single pattern. The brightest one you can see."
Silence stretched. Then Aylin gasped softly.
"I see... a woman. Young, with dark hair. She's sad—deeply sad—but there's hope in her too. Hope that keeps her moving forward despite the grief."
"That is your grandmother. Her impression is strongest here because she sat where you sit, learning what you are learning." Hazal's voice was gentle. "You are connected to her still, despite her passing. That connection is a gift."
"I miss her."
"Of course you do. Love does not end with death. It transforms, but it remains." The ancient woman moved to sit opposite Aylin. "Now, expand your awareness. Move beyond this room. Tell me what you sense in the city beyond."
"That's... there's too much. Millions of lights, millions of shadows. I can't—"
"Don't try to perceive everything. Let your sight find what it needs to find." Hazal's voice was patient. "There are souls in danger tonight. Some you know. Some you don't. Let your perception guide you to them."
Another long silence. Then Aylin's expression shifted—concern replacing concentration.
"Tomás. Something is wrong with Tomás."
Demri straightened. "What do you see?"
"The shadow—the one you planted in him—it's still there. Smaller than before, but still present. And something is feeding it. Making it stronger."
*Impossible*, the curse said. *Dr. Reyes's treatment should have neutralized the corruption entirely.*
"Can you see what's feeding it?" Hazal asked.
"It's... it's coming from outside. Another darkness, reaching toward him." Aylin's voice grew urgent. "The shadow-kin. Not the one who came to us—others. They're using the connection Demri created to access Tomás."
Demri's blood ran cold. The corruption he had accidentally inflicted was not just damage—it was a doorway. And the shadow-kin were using it.
"We have to help him," he said.
"Go." Hazal's voice was calm but firm. "The training continues another time. Your friend needs you now."
---
They raced through streets that seemed to rearrange themselves to speed their passage—Hazal's strange neighborhood ejecting them back into the mortal world with unusual efficiency. The apartment building where Tomás lived was twenty minutes away by normal travel; they reached it in eight.
The door was unlocked. Inside, the apartment was dark—darker than it should have been, the shadows in the corners too deep, too dense.
Tomás sat in the living room, exactly where Demri had seen him during the aftermath of his corruption. But this time, he was not alone. Shapes moved in the darkness around him—shadow-kin, three or four of them, circling like predators around wounded prey.
"Stay back," Demri said to Aylin, even as he stepped forward to confront the creatures.
The largest shadow-kin turned toward him. It was not the one who had offered alliance—this one was older, more formidable, its form crackling with barely contained malice.
"The resister," it said. "We wondered when you would come."
"Leave him. He's not part of this."
"He's part of everything. The connection you created binds him to you—and through you, to the darkness you carry." The shadow-kin's form expanded. "Azarion's orders were clear. Destroy everything the resister cares about. Starting with those most vulnerable."
"Azarion sent you?"
"Azarion sends us all. Has for centuries." The creature's voice carried ancient bitterness. "Some of us obey because we must. Others because we want to. And some..." It glanced at a smaller shadow in the corner. "Some begin to question."
The smaller shadow stepped forward, and Demri recognized it—the one who had offered alliance.
"I told you he would come," it said to the larger creature. "I told you they would not abandon their friend."
"And I told you it doesn't matter. Our orders are clear."
"Orders from a master who has lied to us for millennia. Orders that serve his purposes, not ours." The smaller shadow-kin moved to position itself between the others and Tomás. "I will not participate in this."
"Then you are a traitor."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps I am the first to see clearly." It turned to Demri. "You wanted proof that alliance was possible. Here it is. I will help you protect this mortal—not because it serves my interests, but because it is right."
The larger shadow-kin made a sound of disgust. "Righteousness. From a creature of darkness. You have been too long in the mortal realm. It has corrupted you."
"Or uncorrupted me. The distinction is not as clear as you think."
The standoff held for a long moment. Then the larger shadow-kin made a gesture, and the others began to close in.
"Kill them all. The mortal, the resister, and the traitor. Let Azarion sort out the consequences."
---
The battle that followed was unlike anything Demri had experienced.
The shadow-kin attacked as a coordinated unit, their forms flowing around attacks and reforming faster than any physical creature could. Demri drew on techniques Dr. Reyes had taught him—focusing his resistance into active opposition, channeling the light he had absorbed at the mosque into beams of pure-spectrum energy.
The rebellious shadow-kin fought beside him, its darkness somehow complementing his light rather than opposing it. They moved together in patterns that felt almost choreographed, as if some deeper harmony was expressing itself through their combat.
Aylin was not idle. The training she had just received—incomplete as it was—had opened something within her. She could see the shadow-kin now, perceive their forms and movements with clarity that mortal sight should not have permitted. And with that sight came an unexpected ability: the power to disrupt.
"I can see where they're weakest," she called out, pointing at the largest shadow-kin. "There—where the darkness is thinnest. Hit it there!"
Demri followed her guidance, concentrating his attack on the point she indicated. The shadow-kin shrieked—a sound of genuine pain—and its form flickered dangerously.
"Impossible," it snarled. "No mortal should be able to—"
"She's not just any mortal," Hazal's voice came from nowhere and everywhere. "She carries the sight of her ancestors. And she is learning to use it."
The ancient woman had appeared—how, Demri could not say—and she stood over Tomás with one hand raised. A barrier of pure light surrounded the unconscious man, protecting him from the shadow-kin's attacks.
"This ends now," Hazal said, her voice carrying authority that seemed to shake the very fabric of reality. "Retreat, or face consequences none of you will survive."
"You have no jurisdiction here, ancient one. This is shadow business."
"I have jurisdiction everywhere light and darkness meet. Which is to say, everywhere." Hazal's eyes blazed with power that Demri had not suspected she possessed. "I gave you a chance to withdraw. You chose violence. The consequences are your own."
She made a gesture, and light erupted from her hands—not the focused beams Demri had been using, but a wave of illumination that filled the entire apartment. The shadow-kin screamed as the light touched them, their forms dissolving, dispersing, scattering into fragments that fled through every available crack and crevice.
In moments, only the rebellious shadow-kin remained—protected, somehow, by Demri's proximity.
"You," Hazal addressed the creature. "You chose to stand against your own kind. That choice has consequences too."
"I know." The shadow-kin's voice was quiet. "I am prepared for them."
"Are you? Your kind does not easily forgive betrayal. You will be hunted. Pursued. Marked for destruction."
"I was already marked. By resisting the corruption I was made for, I became an anomaly. The only question was when my former allies would recognize the threat I represented." The shadow-kin turned to Demri. "Your offer of alliance—it was real? You would work with one such as me?"
"If you're sincere. If this wasn't a performance designed to gain my trust."
"It was not. Though I understand why you would suspect that." The creature's form seemed to solidify slightly, becoming more defined. "I have existed for two thousand years. For most of that time, I followed orders, consumed souls, served the darkness without question. But in the last century, something changed. I began to wonder if there was another way."
"What changed?"
"I encountered a mortal who should have fallen to my corruption but didn't. Her faith was too strong, her hope too resilient. Instead of corrupting her, I found myself... transformed by her resistance. She died eventually—all mortals do—but the questions she raised never left me."
Hazal was watching this exchange with interest. "You've been carrying that transformation for decades. Hiding it from your own kind."
"Yes."
"And now you're ready to stop hiding."
"I'm ready to discover what I can become when I'm not defined by what I was made for." The shadow-kin looked at Demri. "You've been doing that since your fall. Fighting your nature, choosing your own path. I want to learn how."
*An unexpected ally*, the curse observed. *With insight into the enemy's operations that could prove invaluable.*
"What do you know about Azarion's plans?" Demri asked.
"More than you might expect. As a shadow-kin, I had access to communications, strategies, long-term objectives. I can tell you who his collaborators are, where his operations are based, what vulnerabilities he might have." The creature paused. "But that information comes with a price."
"What price?"
"Protection. If I betray Azarion's secrets, I become his primary target. I'll need allies who can help me survive the consequences."
"You'll have them." The words came from Aylin, not Demri. She stepped forward, still trembling slightly from the battle, but her voice was steady. "If you're genuinely trying to change, we'll help you. That's what we do."
Demri looked at her—this mortal woman who had just discovered abilities she didn't know she had, who was offering protection to a creature of darkness without hesitation. "Aylin—"
"I know what I'm saying. And I mean it." She met his eyes. "We can't defeat Azarion alone. We need allies wherever we can find them. If this shadow-kin is sincere—and I believe it is—then turning away help would be foolish."
"You can perceive its sincerity?"
"I can perceive... something. The sight Hazal opened in me, it's not fully formed, but I can see the change this creature is describing. The hope buried in its darkness." She turned back to the shadow-kin. "What should we call you? 'Shadow-kin' is a category, not a name."
The creature was silent for a moment. "I was called Kael, once. Before I became what I am. You may use that name, if you wish."
"Kael." Aylin nodded. "Welcome to our cause."
---
Tomás recovered over the following hours, the shadow-kin's assault having failed to deepen the corruption before Hazal's intervention. Dr. Reyes was summoned to perform additional treatment, reinforcing the barriers she had established previously.
"This won't happen again," she said, completing her work. "I've modified the treatment to prevent external access to the remnant corruption. Whatever doorway existed, it's sealed now."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Fix the source of the problem." She looked at Demri with an expression that mixed frustration with determination. "Every time we treat symptoms, the disease adapts. We need to address the underlying cause—Azarion's conspiracy, the shadow-kin hierarchy, the entire corrupt system. Until then, we're just playing defense."
"We're working on it."
"Work faster. The next attack might succeed where this one failed."
---
Later that night, after the others had departed and Tomás was resting safely, Demri sat with Aylin and Hazal in the ancient woman's strange dwelling.
"Tonight changed things," Hazal said. "The battle, the alliance, the emergence of Aylin's sight—these are significant developments."
"Significant how?"
"The pattern is shifting. What was impossible becomes possible. What was inevitable becomes avoidable." Hazal's ancient eyes held depths Demri could not fathom. "You are no longer merely resisting the curse, Demri. You are becoming something new. Something that has never existed before."
"What does that mean?"
"It means the rules that have governed your existence are breaking down. The curse assumed you would either surrender or be destroyed. It did not anticipate that you would find allies, build connections, create a force capable of opposing Azarion directly."
"Is that good?"
"It is unprecedented. Which means both danger and opportunity." Hazal turned to Aylin. "You have a role to play as well. The sight you've begun to develop is only the first of your capabilities. With training, you could become a bridge between worlds—someone who perceives both light and darkness and chooses how they interact."
"A bridge," Aylin repeated. "What does that involve?"
"Learning. Growing. Accepting that you are more than you believed yourself to be." Hazal smiled. "Your grandmother knew this day would come. She asked me to watch over you, to be ready when your potential emerged. I have been waiting for many years."
"She planned this?"
"She hoped for it. Not this specifically—she could not have predicted Demri, or the shadow-kin, or the particular configuration of events that brought you here. But she knew you had gifts that would one day be needed. She trusted me to help you develop them."
Aylin was quiet, processing this revelation about her grandmother's foresight. Finally, she spoke.
"Then I'll continue the training. Whatever it takes."
"Good. We begin tomorrow, when you are rested." Hazal rose, signaling the end of the evening. "Both of you—sleep. The path ahead is long, and you will need your strength."
---
They walked home through streets that seemed to glow with the aftermath of the night's events. Kael accompanied them, its shadow-form now visible to Aylin's developing sight even as it remained invisible to ordinary perception.
"This is strange," Aylin said. "A few weeks ago, I thought I was just a community organizer. Now I'm training with an ancient mystic and walking beside a shadow being who's decided to fight for the light."
"Does it frighten you?"
"Terrifies me. But also..." She searched for the word. "Excites me? Is that wrong? To be excited by something this dangerous?"
"It's human. Your species thrives on challenge, on growth, on pushing beyond what you thought possible." Demri took her hand. "And it's admirable. Most beings would run from what you're facing. You're running toward it."
"Someone has to."
"No. Someone doesn't have to. You're choosing to. That's what makes it meaningful."
They reached the apartment as dawn began to brighten the eastern sky. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new decisions, new dangers. But tonight, they had won a victory. They had gained an ally. And Aylin had taken the first steps toward becoming something extraordinary.
*The game has changed*, the curse observed. *You are no longer playing defense. You are beginning to shape events rather than merely react to them.*
"Is that good?"
*It is different. Which, in a universe that tends toward stagnation, is perhaps the best thing any of us can hope for.*
Demri looked at Aylin—exhausted but radiant, her developing sight giving her eyes a depth they had not possessed before—and felt something he had almost forgotten was possible.
Hope. Real, substantial hope that the future might be better than the past.
Whatever came next, they would face it together.
----