I gasped as I fell backwards from the saw which I had been working with, the pain from my mutilated hand shooting up my arm as blood splattered across the workbench, gushing out of the wound onto my left arm like water bursting from a broken dam.
My vision began to grey out at the edges as I felt the rapid outburst of blood slow into a dark crawl, and from what I could now barely see out of my eyes, blood pooled onto the scattered blueprints, hours of painstaking designing now gone to waste, but that wasn't the problem here.
I collapsed onto a chair, clawing the wooden handrest of it the stabilise myself as the world around me tilted violently. I held my arm, the agony and shock of it making me feel terribly faint.
This was it.
This was where I died.
I bit back a sob as the pain steadily become more and more unbearable.
I wasn't ready.
I wasn't ready to die.
I heard the door open.
'Mus- MUSTAFA!' a voice called out, the pained sound of it ripping through the air.
But it didn't matter.
It was too late.
I felt my grip on the handrest slip slightly and I felt my heart rate slow as I struggled to stay awake.
Finally.
This was the end.
My body slumped against the chair, my head lolling to the side. The control that I'd once had over my body vanished, my right hand beginning to slip off the armrest, the fierce grip it had just held over it already feeling like a distant memory and the stump that was once my left hand dangling from the chair uselessly, blood still dripping onto the floor.
I closed my eyes, letting everything, my pain, my agony, and my life away.
I opened my eyes.
What I saw was not the dim light of the workshop, nor did I hear that nameless person calling my name. Not even the faint hum of the place remained.
Instead I lay face up, looking into a deep, endless void that stretched for God knows how long.
I slowly rose from the ground, looking down and seeing that my body was supported by absolutely nothing, but there was still a floor to lie on.
I took a look at my hands.
They were there.
In fact I was completely unharmed, as if I just hadn't had my left hand brutally mutilated by a saw a few moments ago. I flexed my fingers, half believing this was some kind of cruel joke.
I was whole. The agony that had reduced me to death had vanished, replaced by this hollow vaccum of nothingness.
I ran a hand through my hair.
Where was I? Wasn't I dead? Many, many thoughts rushed into my head as to why I was here, each one more unlikely than the last.
I began to pace, my footsteps making no noise as I walked, dread crawling up my body like vines. There would be no end, no salvation nor saving. I was stuck here, with no way out.
Or so I thought.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small ray of white light, shining through the black chasm of emptiness. I instinctively walked towards it, hope igniting within me once more as the bright white light shined in the darkness.
My walking broke into a sprint. I ran towards it, hoping, praying, begging even, to get out of this eternal abyss. My heart pounded against my chest, the only noise that I could even hear, its thumping echoing throughout the noiseless chasm.
Yet it always lay out of reach, but I continued to run as if I were being hunted by some monstrous being for what felt like hours, unrelenting as I chased the light, not even daring to let this opportunity to escape me and so I ran, my breath becoming shorter and shorter as I sprinted towards the light as fast as I could, scrambling through this airless chasm.
Time became meaningless as I ran, had it been hours or minutes I could not tell but my priority was to get to the light.
I tripped over my own feet, my body hitting nothing but still being supported by something. It was as if there was a platform, albeit invisible, because I expected there to be one. I groaned, using my left hand to push my body up from the floor, and I looked up.
The source of the light lay before me.
Finally, it is here!
I slowly approached it, the brilliantly white light becoming steadily brighter as I advanced.
I reached out for the object, and the moment I touched it, I felt a violent tug on my arm.
The void around me seemed to collapse as I was pulled into the object.
_________________
Sultan Abdulhamid I paced the floral silk carpets nervously, twiddling his thumbs together as he waited anxiously. Every now and then, he would look up at the doors. At his moment his seventh consort, Nakşidil Sultan, would be giving birth. But to a boy or a girl, he did not know.
He was a man who had spent most of his life in the Kafes, the gilded cage, and he knew that the child would lead the same life. He shuddered at the thought of it: a child in a prison, however grand, that he did not choose to be in, wondering whether each person entering the door would bring a succulent meal or a silk bowstring meant for their neck.
Suddenly, a sharp wail pierced the air, interrupting his thoughts and making him freeze mid step, his heart pounding against his chest with anticipation.
The midwife rushed out, her face beaming.
'My hünkâr, it is a boy, mashallah!'
'Alhamdulillah, may I enter? Abdulhamid replied, a genuine smile breaking through his tired expression in spite of his worry.
'Of course, my sultan.'
Abdulhamid entered the room, his eyes immediately drawn to the small child whom Nakşidil was cradling in her lap.
He gently picked up the child, looking down at it with a particular fondness in his eyes.
'From this day onwards, you shall be called Mahmud.'
____________________
Where was I?
The void had collapsed, and the heavy silence of it had been annihilated, now replaced by a violent, burning sensation in my chest. I tried to gasp, gasp for air, but I couldn't and all that escaped me was a weak cry.
My lungs burned as I inhaled the thick, perfumed air of the room, unable to focus on one thing.
My mind felt like it was collapsing in on itself as I felt a flood of knowledge and wisdom flood into my brain, furthering my confusion and what seemed to be a billion voices spoke all at once, their voices unsynced and making my head feel like it was going to implode. Floods of dates, names, and descriptions poured into my brain like a storm that had just broken.
I tried to cry out, say that this wasn't right, but all that came out was a strangled wail.
A man, looking like he was in his mid 50s, walked up towards me, and cradled my small body in his arms.
'From this day onwards, you shall be called Mahmud.'
Mahmud.
Mahmud.
Where had I heard that before?
Images continued to pour into my mind, and one of them, one of them was similar to the man cradling me.
Voices and images continued to crash into my mind as I tried to focus on the man in front of me, to get a clear view of his face.
He was a weary, tired looking man, and I could place my finger on who he was now.
But.. it couldn't be.
If he was-
No.
The thought of his true identity struck me helpless.
My breathing jerked as panic overwhelmed me, gripping my small, frail body from head to toe as my thoughts began to spin, the voices and images rushing into my head fading away into background garbling, unintelligible and not understandable.
This seemed to calm me down a little, and everything came into a little more focus as I managed to fully process what was going on.
It was 1785.
Was it?
Yes.
It was.
Who am I?
Mahmud.
That is my name.
It isn't, though.
My name is Mustafa.
But, was it really?
I tried to focus on the man in front of me, and dread filled my heart.
Was I?
Could I be..
Mahmud II.
Oh God.
Oh dear God.
I had transmigrated into one of the most dangerous royal dynasties of the 18th century.
I tried to move my hand, amidst the chaotic confusion and noise, yet it would not budge.
Frustration bubbled up inside of me as I realised that I would not be able to move my own body properly for the next couple of years at least.
Yet, within my frustration, and confusion, I realised.
I knew.
I knew a lot of things, things that I hadn't even heard of in my past life, yet I knew.
How?
That was one thing I didn't know.
But as my lungs burned, and as my body lay still, twitching at irregular intervals, I knew that I could turn history on its head.. but for now, I was not able to touch it at all.
For now.