The Ashes Reborn

Iskender's perspective

Prison was a world of concrete and steel, a place where time stretched indefinitely, where the echo of footsteps down the cold, empty corridors became a constant reminder of confinement. It was a world that stripped you bare, leaving only your thoughts, your regrets, and whatever pieces of yourself you could salvage.

In the beginning, anger and despair consumed me. Betrayed by my own blood, Murat, and the closest friends I once trusted, I struggled to fathom the depth of the treachery that had upended my life. My nights were sleepless, my thoughts circling endlessly around questions with no answers. Why me? How had I been so blind? And most hauntingly, could I ever escape this nightmare?

The bitterness festered like a wound, but it also became a spark, fueling something within me that had been dormant for too long: resolve. I vowed, sitting in the dim glow of my cell one lonely night, that I would not remain broken. I would return stronger, smarter, and far more dangerous than those who had conspired against me could ever imagine.

---

It was in that bleak environment that I met Kemal, an older inmate whose presence demanded both respect and caution. Kemal was a wiry man in his sixties with silver hair that curled at the edges and sharp, hawk-like eyes that seemed to see through you. Rumors about his past swirled through the prison—some said he had been a revolutionary, others whispered of his ties to the underworld. Whatever the truth, one thing was certain: Kemal was a survivor.

"You're too quiet," Kemal said to me one day as we sat under the pale winter sun in the prison yard. "Quiet men are either wise or dangerous. Which are you?"

I didn't answer immediately, still cautious of his intent. "Maybe I'm both," I replied eventually, my voice betraying a hint of bitterness.

Kemal chuckled, the sound dry and humorless. "You carry too much anger. I can see it in the way you move, the way you clench your fists. Anger's like a fire—it'll warm you for a while, but let it burn too long, and it'll consume you."

"And what do you suggest?" I asked, unable to hide my sarcasm. "Forgiveness?"

Kemal's eyes darkened, his expression hardening. "No. Forgiveness is for saints, and we're not saints, are we? But there's a difference between rage and focus. Learn the difference, and you might stand a chance."

---

Over the following weeks, Kemal took an interest in me. I wasn't sure why at first, but it became clear that he saw something in me—a raw potential, perhaps, or maybe a reflection of himself from a time long past. He began to mentor me, not directly at first, but through small conversations and pointed remarks that planted seeds in my mind.

"You have a story," Kemal said one evening as we sat in the dimly lit library. "Everyone in here does. The trick is deciding whether your story ends here or if it's just beginning."

"What's your story?" I asked, genuinely curious for the first time.

Kemal leaned back, his eyes distant. "I was a man who believed in change. I thought I could make the world better, but the world doesn't like change—it fights back. I tried to outsmart it, outmaneuver it, but in the end, it swallowed me whole." He paused, his gaze meeting mine. "And now I'm here, in this graveyard of the forgotten."

"What happened?" I pressed gently.

Kemal hesitated before continuing. "I led a movement once. We weren't criminals; we wanted justice for those who couldn't fight for themselves. But when you challenge the powerful, they don't just fight back—they crush you. My comrades betrayed me to save themselves. Sound familiar?"

His words hit like a punch to the gut. "Too familiar," I muttered.

Kemal nodded knowingly. "Then learn from my mistakes. If you want to fight back, do it wisely. Revenge isn't about rage—it's about strategy, patience, and understanding your enemy better than they understand themselves."

---

As the months turned into years, Kemal became my closest confidant. He taught me to channel my anger into focus, to turn my pain into fuel for something greater. We spent endless hours in the library, devouring books on business, psychology, and strategy. Kemal's insights were invaluable.

"Never underestimate the power of knowledge," he told me one evening as we poured over a book on warfare. "A good plan can topple empires. A great plan can make you untouchable."

But Kemal wasn't just a mentor—he was a strategist, always thinking ten steps ahead. Through his connections both inside and outside the prison, he began to introduce me to a hidden network of individuals who could be of use in the future. Some were former allies of his, others were people who owed him favors. Slowly, the pieces of my plan began to fall into place.

"You're preparing for something big," Kemal remarked one day as we walked laps around the yard. "What is it you want, Iskender?"

"I want my life back," I said simply. "And I want them to pay for what they've done."

Kemal stopped and turned to face me, his expression serious. "Revenge is a double-edged sword, my friend. Be careful not to lose yourself in the process."

---

My physical transformation mirrored my internal one. I spent countless hours in the gym, building strength and endurance. I learned self-defense, knowing that I couldn't rely solely on intellect in the battles to come. The soft, comfortable life I had once known was gone, replaced by a relentless drive to survive and overcome.

"You've changed," Kemal observed one evening as we sparred in the yard. His tone carried a mixture of pride and caution. "You're not the same man who walked in here."

"I'm not," I agreed, breathing heavily. "And I never will be again."

---

When the day of my release finally arrived, Kemal stood by the gates, watching as I prepared to leave. His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable.

"Remember, Iskender," he said, his voice low but firm. "The world out there is even crueler than in here. Don't let it break you again. And if you ever need a reminder of who you are, think of this place. It forged you into something stronger."

I nodded, his words echoing in my mind as I stepped into the sunlight for the first time in years. The transformation was complete. Iskender Yilmaz was dead. In his place stood Ali Demir, a man with nothing to lose and everything to gain.

The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: I would return, not as a victim, but as a force to be reckoned with.