Chapter Content
As Ali and Kamel left the Çatalca Line behind them, and rode deeper into Bulgarian land, the war stopped being an idea and became a physical thing for Kamel—something that pressed against his ribs with every step of the horse.
The words on the sign clung to him. Not as a threat, exactly—more like a seal. As if the border itself had closed behind his back, and now the world had quietly decided for him. A man could ride forward and tell himself he was still free. But the longer he went, the more he felt it: there would be no clean turning around. No undoing this.
This was an invasion. The first war he had ever been truly part of. The Empire stepping forward again—boots, hooves, rifles—testing whether its spine still held.
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