Kazaf: The upside down

The golden glow of the morning sun bathed the Elara Sect in soft light, casting long shadows over the grand halls and towering pagodas. While Kazaf and his companions trained for the battles ahead, two women sat together in a secluded courtyard, their fates entwined in ways they had yet to fully understand.

Alaca had avoided the public eye since her return to the Down world. Her presence was a reminder of old wounds, and she knew there were many—her own family included—who wished her gone. Despite this, she found solace in the quiet corners of the sect, where she could observe without drawing too much attention.

Today, however, she was not alone. Sitting across from her, beneath the delicate shade of a cherry blossom tree, was Asma. The young woman had insisted on seeking her out, a mixture of curiosity and determination in her sharp eyes.

"You've been avoiding people," Asma said finally, breaking the silence.

Alaca exhaled, her gaze shifting to the tea in her hands. "Perhaps."

"Why?" Asma pressed, tilting her head slightly. "You're not just any outsider. You're someone with history here."

Alaca gave a soft chuckle. "History isn't always a good thing, child."

"I'm not a child," Asma shot back.

Alaca looked up at her, a faint smile playing on her lips. "No, you're not. But you are young, and you still see the world as something that can be shaped with enough will. I admire that."

Asma frowned slightly. "You speak as if you've already given up on shaping it yourself."

Alaca sighed, her fingers tightening around the warm porcelain cup. "I've learned that the world shapes us more than we shape it. When I left the Down world, I thought I was free. But no matter how far I ran, my past never let me go."

Asma studied her for a moment, then softened her tone. "Was it worth it?"

Alaca hesitated before answering. "Yes," she whispered. "For Kazaf, it was worth everything."

A breeze rustled through the courtyard, carrying with it the scent of blooming flowers. Asma watched the older woman, sensing the weight of emotions she carried.

"You loved him, didn't you?" Asma asked suddenly.

Alaca blinked, caught off guard. "Who?"

"The man from the Upside world. Kazaf's father."

A shadow passed over Alaca's face, but then a wistful smile replaced it. "I did," she admitted. "More than anything. He was kind, strong, and he saw me as a person, not just as a tool for a sect or a bloodline. With him, I felt like I could finally breathe."

Asma's expression softened. "And now?"

"Now…" Alaca exhaled. "Now, I fight to make sure my son has that same chance at happiness."

Asma was silent for a moment before speaking again. "You know, Kazaf is strong. He's been through so much, and he still stands tall."

Alaca nodded. "He reminds me of his father."

"And yet," Asma said carefully, "he's walking into a storm, whether he wants to or not."

Alaca met her gaze. "I know. That's why I have to stay by his side."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Asma's eyes before she looked away. "You're not the only one."

Alaca studied her. "You care about him."

Asma shrugged, though her voice betrayed her nonchalance. "He's… interesting."

Alaca chuckled. "That's a dangerous thing to say."

"Maybe," Asma said, meeting her gaze once more. "But I think danger follows him no matter where he goes. And I'd rather face it with him than watch from the sidelines."

Alaca observed her carefully before nodding. "Then be ready. Because this world will not be kind to him—or to anyone who stands with him."

Asma smirked. "I never expected kindness from the Down world anyway."

The two women sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea as the wind carried the petals of the cherry blossoms around them.

Both of them had made their choices.

And neither intended to turn back.

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