---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thank you so much to everyone who has supported my book Osman II: Rebirth of a Dynasty with Power Stones! Your encouragement means the world to me. Special thanks to: Mustifa_89, m_jonas, Daoist8ZKfWR, Oxsinus, Falken19, Nirvana_homeless, Ahtabai44, Cevizli_Helva, 00Zero. Your support keeps me motivated to keep writing! I truly appreciate each and every one of you!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the domed Divan hall of Topkapı Palace, a heavy silence prevailed. Osman sat on his throne, listening to the reports of the standing viziers before him. State affairs were being discussed one after another. Osman paid close attention, occasionally posing sharp questions to steer the discussions. Yet suddenly, the mood of the hall shifted as a shadow fell over the face of the harem eunuch who appeared at the door.
The eunuch slowly approached the Divan, bowed, and whispered:
"Your Majesty... Mahfiruz Sultan... has passed into the mercy of God."
The serious expression on Osman's face froze. His eyes locked onto the eunuch as if trying to process the words. A wave of sorrow rose within him, momentarily softening his usually stern demeanor. The eunuch bowed even lower and stepped back. Osman drew a deep breath, but it did not soothe the ache in his chest; it only intensified it.
"The Divan is dismissed," Osman declared, his voice as commanding as ever, though with an almost imperceptible tremor beneath it. "Everyone, leave."
The viziers, though surprised, obeyed without hesitation. They rose from their places and quietly left the hall. Once alone, Osman felt the crushing weight in his chest become unbearable. Rising from his throne, he walked slowly to the center of the room, his gaze fixed on the dome above.
"Mother..." he whispered. Hearing his own voice only amplified his sorrow. A faint sting lingered in his heart, but rather than overwhelming grief, he felt a profound anger at the fleeting nature of life, a sentiment born from never fully feeling at home in this world.
At that moment, the sound of the door creaking open caught his attention. Mehri Banu Sultan stepped cautiously into the room. She wore a simple gown, her face etched with concern. Upon seeing Osman alone, she hesitated, then carefully approached.
"Your Majesty..." she said softly. "I have heard the news as well. My deepest condolences."
Osman turned his head, his gaze briefly meeting Mehri Banu's eyes. He seemed unsure of what to say. His lips parted, but no words emerged.
Mehri Banu stopped just before him, hesitating only briefly before extending her hands. Gently, she touched his arms. "Mahfiruz Sultan was one of the most selfless women in this world. But you are her legacy. And she would be proud of your strength."
Osman took a deep breath and lowered his head. He struggled to hold back the tears brimming in his eyes. "Mehri Banu, no matter how strong a person believes themselves to be, there are moments when they feel utterly alone. My mother... she was always a shadow over me. She protected me, sometimes even burdened me. But now, even that shadow is gone."
Mehri Banu took a step closer. "You are not alone, Osman. In this palace, in this empire, there are countless people who believe in you and depend on your leadership. And I am one of them. I will always stand by your side. Never forget that."
Osman saw the determination in Mehri Banu's eyes. That resolve lightened his sorrow, even if just a little. He straightened his posture and drew a deep breath.
"Thank you, Mehri Banu," he said. "Easing this pain isn't easy, but your presence, your words... they bring me comfort. I must honor my mother's memory by becoming even stronger."
Mehri Banu smiled faintly. "Then we shall pray for Mahfiruz Sultan's soul. And in her name, we will lead the Ottoman Empire into a brighter future."
Osman nodded in agreement with her words. The silence in the Divan was now filled with the echoes of both grief and determination. Osman realized this moment marked a turning point—a call to carry his mother's memory forward as he steered the empire toward greatness.