As the wagon rumbled along the dirt road, the sky above gradually lightened with the early morning sun. Paola sat next to Yasmin, watching the landscape shift from wide open fields to the gradually encroaching hills and forests as they drew closer to Valarian. It was peaceful, though the air was thick with anticipation. Poca, up front with the reins, hummed softly, her long dark hair swaying with the motion of the wagon, while Selene sat beside her in quiet contemplation, her silver braid resting over her shoulder.
Yasmin, however, was a ball of restless energy, her wings twitching occasionally with excitement. It was clear her mind was half on the road and half already in Valarian, probably imagining the moment she’d be reunited with her sister, Yucca. Despite her jitteriness, Yasmin had been trying, somewhat half-heartedly, to teach Paola more about using magic. The effort was valiant, but Paola could tell her friend's mind was elsewhere.
“Alright, alright,” Yasmin said, pulling her fiery hair back into a loose ponytail as she shifted in her seat. “I shouldn’t be doing this, you know. Technically speaking, teaching unregistered mages any magic is... a big no-no.” She flashed Paola a mischievous grin, her amber eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let alone chaos magic.”
Paola chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Yasmin winked, though her energy was more scattered than usual. “Deal. Alright, so, let’s focus on what you’ve been doing wrong.” She tapped her fingers against her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Oh yeah, everything.”
“Thanks, that’s helpful,” Paola said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.
Yasmin laughed, her wings fluttering slightly behind her as she shifted her position. “Oh, don’t take it personally. Chaos magic is... well, it’s chaos. It’s hard to explain. Half the time, it feels like it’s more about what’s going on inside of you than what’s happening outside. But hey, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Paola sighed, knowing Yasmin was excited to help but also painfully aware that her own success in conjuring anything remotely magical was rare at best. She remembered the single time she’d managed to conjure black flame and lightning—just once. It had taken every ounce of focus she had, a dozen complicated hand signs, and an exhausting amount of mana control. The result? A splitting headache and nothing to show for it.
Still, she had to try.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the flow of mana inside her. It was like a river, sometimes calm, sometimes raging, but always there, just beneath the surface. She tried to grasp it, to mold it into something tangible, something powerful. She formed the necessary hand signs, concentrating on the energy in her core, imagining the crackling of black lightning and the heat of dark flames in her palms.
Nothing.
A dull ache began to build in her temples, the familiar sign of her mana depletion. Her brows furrowed, but she kept trying, forcing her energy into her hands, willing the magic to form.
“Careful now,” Yasmin said with a grin, though her voice carried a note of concern. “Chaos magic takes a lot out of you if you’re not careful. You don’t want another headache, do you?”
Paola didn’t answer, too focused on her task. The mana felt so slippery, so elusive. Just as she thought she had a hold on it, it slipped away again, dissipating into the ether.
“Chaos magic isn’t like other magic,” Yasmin explained, her tone suddenly more thoughtful. “It’s not about control—it’s more emotional, more... instinctive. You have to feel it, not just think it.”
Paola opened one eye and glanced at Yasmin. “Feel it? That’s helpful. What does that even mean?”
Yasmin shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “It’s hard to explain, alright? Magic like mine—it’s tied to emotion. Sometimes the more worked up I get, the more powerful it is. But it’s a balancing act. Too much emotion and it can spiral out of control.”
Paola sighed and tried again, focusing on that idea—feeling the magic, letting her emotions guide it. For a brief moment, she thought she understood. She felt a flicker, a spark in the pit of her stomach. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, and she was left with nothing but frustration.
Just as she was about to give up, Poca’s voice called from the front of the wagon, breaking her concentration.
“Mes amies, look ahead!”
Paola blinked, her ears perking up as she snapped her head forward. In the distance, a wagon sat stranded on the side of the road, its wheel broken and a small group of travelers gathered around it. The sight immediately set off alarm bells in Paola’s mind. Every anime, every isekai manga she’d ever read screamed one thing: setup.
Her instincts kicked in, and she straightened in her seat, her tail flicking nervously. “This feels off,” she murmured, her eyes scanning the area around the wagon. There wasn’t much cover—a few trees, some tall grass—but her paranoia was in full swing.
Poca, ever the optimist, slowed their wagon and glanced back at the group. “Ze festival starts today. Zere are bound to be travelers on ze road. Maybe zey just need ‘elp?”
Yasmin, on the other hand, seemed almost too eager. Her amber eyes lit up with excitement as she leaned forward. “Oh, I hope it’s a setup. I’ve been itching for some action. It’s been too quiet.”
Paola’s gaze snapped to Yasmin, eyes wide. “Are you serious? You want it to be a trap?”
Yasmin grinned, her wings fluttering. “Hey, if it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’ll get. I could use a little excitement before we hit the city.”
Selene, who had been silent for most of the trip, finally spoke up, her tone calm but firm. “Paola’s right. We should be cautious. It’s too convenient.”
Paola nodded, feeling a wave of relief that someone else shared her concerns. “Exactly. We don’t know what we’re walking into. I’m just saying, it feels a little too... staged.”
Poca slowed the oxen further, clearly torn between her natural desire to help and the growing tension among the group. “Well... we can’t just leave zem, can we? But... maybe we don’t stop completely.”
As they approached the broken wagon, the travelers noticed them, waving frantically for help. Paola’s heart raced, her instincts screaming at her to stay alert. She scanned the area again, her eyes darting between the travelers and the surrounding landscape, half-expecting someone to jump out from behind a tree or bush.
Yasmin, meanwhile, had already started cracking her knuckles, looking far too ready for a fight. “Come on,” she muttered under her breath, “give me an excuse.”
The awkwardness of the situation was clear. Poca, unsure whether to stop entirely, slowed their wagon to a crawl, the oxen snorting in protest. The travelers, clearly growing impatient, waved more urgently, one of them even stumbling forward a bit as if to meet them halfway.
Paola could feel the tension mounting in the air, her tail flicking nervously. “This is... so awkward.”
Yasmin chuckled under her breath. “Hey, it’s only awkward if you make it awkward.”
Poca, clearly feeling the pressure, called out to the travelers. “Do you need ‘elp?”
One of the travelers, a middle-aged man with a worn cloak, nodded eagerly. “Yes! Our wagon broke, and we’ve been stuck for hours. Could you spare some assistance?”
Paola narrowed her eyes, still not fully trusting the situation. The man’s voice seemed genuine enough, but something still felt off. Her ears twitched, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
Yasmin, sensing the tension but clearly enjoying it, leaned toward Paola and whispered, “Want me to blow up their wagon just to be safe?” She was clearly joking, but Paola couldn't help but wonder if she was at least a little serious.
Paola shot her a look. “Absolutely not.”
Selene, her expression unreadable, spoke up again. “We’ll help,” she said, her voice cool. “But let’s stay alert.”
Poca nodded, then slowly brought their wagon to a stop a safe distance from the stranded travelers. She climbed down, her stitched frame moving gracefully as she approached the other group, offering them a warm smile. “We ‘ave a bit of time before we reach Valarian. We can ‘elp.”
Paola's tail flicked nervously, and her ears were on high alert, scanning the area for anything that might jump out. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still off, though she was trying to trust Poca’s instinct. After all, Poca was always the optimist.
The man in the worn cloak approached cautiously, a wary smile crossing his weathered face. “Thank you so much for stopping. Our wheel broke a few hours ago, and we haven’t had much luck trying to fix it ourselves.”
Paola, still wary, stepped down from the wagon alongside Yasmin and Selene. Poca, ever the kind soul, immediately walked over to the broken wagon to assess the damage. “It looks like a pretty bad break, but nothing we can’t fix together,” she said, as she offered the family a comforting smile.
As Poca got closer, Paola noticed more details about the travelers. The man in the cloak was older, his face lined with the kind of wrinkles that came from years of working in the sun. His hands were rough and calloused, but there was a certain warmth in his expression. Behind him, a woman stood, her brown hair tied back into a loose bun, her posture both protective and tired. Clinging to her skirts were two children, a young girl with wide, curious eyes and a boy no older than six, peeking shyly out from behind his mother.
The woman offered a weary but grateful smile. “We’ve been stranded here for hours. It’s a miracle you came by when you did.”
Poca waved off the compliment, already inspecting the broken wheel. “No problem at all. We’re happy to ‘elp.”
Paola, ever cautious, stepped closer and gave a polite nod. “I’m Paola,” she introduced herself, her voice a bit hesitant. “This is Poca, Selene, and Yasmin.”
The man extended a hand, shaking each of theirs in turn. “I’m Garron,” he said, motioning to the woman beside him. “This is my wife, Elara, and our children, Nia and Oran.”
Yasmin, clearly trying to contain her energy, crouched down to meet the kids’ eyes. “Hi there,” she said with a grin, her fiery red hair practically glowing in the sunlight. “Are you two helping out with the wheel?”
Nia, the older of the two, shook her head, her eyes wide as she stared at Yasmin’s bright wings. “No... but your wings are really pretty.”
Yasmin laughed, her wings fluttering slightly. “Thanks! Maybe I’ll let you take a closer look later.”
Paola exchanged a glance with Selene, who was watching the interaction with mild amusement. Paola’s tension began to ease as the situation started to feel more genuine. These weren’t bandits or troublemakers—just a family in need of help. Still, she wasn’t letting her guard down completely.
“We’ve got spare tools in the wagon,” Paola said, motioning to their cart. “Let’s see if we can get your wheel fixed.”
Garron looked relieved as Poca and Selene began inspecting the damage more closely. The wheel was badly cracked, but with the tools they had on hand and some makeshift materials from the surrounding area, it wouldn’t be impossible to repair. Paola found herself easing into the work, grateful to focus on something other than the whirlwind of her own thoughts.
As they worked, Paola struck up conversation with Elara, who was keeping a close eye on her children. “Are you headed to Valarian for the Festival of Breath?” Paola asked, trying to gauge their destination.
Elara nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yes, we are. It’s been a long journey, but we wanted to take the children to see the festival. It’s a tradition in my family, and we haven’t been able to make the trip in years.”
Paola smiled softly. “I’ve heard it’s amazing. It’ll be my first time attending.”
“You’re in for a treat,” Elara said, her eyes brightening a bit. “The music, the food, the art—it’s all so beautiful. The kids are especially excited about the masquerade on the last night.”
As the repairs continued, Yasmin, ever the lively one, started talking to Garron about Valarian. “You ever been there before?”
Garron chuckled. “Years ago, back when I was younger. The city’s a lot bigger now, from what I’ve heard. But I’m more excited for the market on the first day—hoping to sell some of our goods.”
“Oh, you’re a trader?” Selene asked, glancing up from her work on the wheel.
“Not a big-time one,” Garron admitted. “But we’ve got some goods to trade—fabrics, mostly. Elara’s a talented seamstress.”
Poca smiled warmly at Elara. “I may ‘ave to take a look at your fabrics when we get to ze city. I could always use something new for ze farm.”
Elara nodded eagerly. “I’d be happy to show you what we have. We’ve been traveling from town to town for weeks, but Valarian is always where we get the best sales.”
Paola, feeling more at ease now, couldn’t help but smile at how the conversation flowed so naturally. The tension that had initially gripped her had mostly melted away as they worked together. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the road and the fields beyond. The distant spires of Valarian were just barely visible on the horizon, and Paola felt a sense of anticipation building as they drew closer to the city.
Once the wheel was repaired, Poca stood up, wiping her hands on her thighs and giving the wheel a satisfied pat. “Zat should ‘old for ze rest of ze journey.”
Garron and Elara looked incredibly relieved. “Thank you,” Garron said earnestly. “I don’t know what we would have done without your help.”
Paola glanced at the horizon, her ears twitching as she considered the remaining journey. “We’re only a few hours away from Valarian now. Why don’t we caravan together? Safety in numbers, right?”
Selene, standing beside Paola, nodded in agreement. “That’s a good idea. We’ll all get there together, and it’s always better to travel with company.”
Garron looked grateful, his wife nodding beside him. “That sounds like a plan,” he said with a smile. “It’ll be nice to have some company for the rest of the trip.”
With the wheel fixed and everyone ready to go, the two wagons set off together, traveling side by side down the road. Paola and Yasmin took their seats back on their wagon, with Poca and Selene up front handling the reins. Paola leaned back, feeling the gentle sway of the wagon as it moved. Her fingers itched for her guitar, and after a moment of hesitation, she pulled it out from where it was stored.
“Thinking of playing us a tune?” Yasmin asked, her amber eyes twinkling with curiosity.
Paola shrugged with a smile. “Might as well pass the time.”
As her fingers strummed the familiar chords, the melody filled the air around them, mingling with the sound of the oxen’s hooves and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. The children in the other wagon poked their heads up, their faces lighting up as they listened to the music. Paola found herself relaxing even more, the gentle rhythm of the music calming her nerves.
They rolled along for a couple of hours like that, the two wagons moving in tandem, Paola’s music providing a peaceful backdrop. Occasionally, Yasmin would hum along, her energy still vibrant but contained for the moment. Poca occasionally glanced back at Paola with a smile, her stitched face softening in the warmth of the afternoon sun.
As they drew closer to Valarian, the spires of the city came into full view, rising majestically against the sky. The closer they got, the more the excitement in the air seemed to grow, especially from Yasmin, whose wings fluttered with impatience.
“Not long now,” Yasmin said, practically bouncing in her seat. “I can’t wait to see Yucca again.”
Paola smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm. “You’re excited, huh?”
“Of course!” Yasmin replied with a wide grin. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen her. Plus, the festival is always a blast. You’re going to love it, Paola.”
Paola chuckled, her fingers still idly strumming her guitar. “I’m looking forward to it. Though, I have to admit, I’m a little nervous about all the people.”
“Don’t worry,” Yasmin said, giving her a playful nudge. “Stick with us, and you’ll be fine. Just wait until you see the masquerade.”
As Paola and the others approached the grand gates of Valarian, the sheer scale of the city unfolded before them. The towering sandstone walls, intricately carved with ancient runes and symbols, stretched high into the sky, guarding the city like silent sentinels. Above them, the massive ribs of the Leviathan loomed, a constant reminder of the mythical creature’s last breath that had given life to these lands. Each rib curved gracefully over the city, casting elongated shadows that danced on the ground as the sun shifted. The air was thick with magic, the very essence of the Leviathan palpable as they neared the entrance.
Paola felt a strange mix of awe and apprehension. Her heart pounded in her chest as they drew closer to the gates, the noise of the bustling city spilling out through the cracks in the walls. People hurried in and out, traders with their carts, families with children, and travelers from all over Udanara eager to partake in the festivities. It was a lively scene, almost overwhelming in its intensity, yet beautiful in its vibrancy.
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The group slowed as they reached the gate, where a small contingent of guards stood, carefully inspecting those who wished to enter. The guards were dressed in deep blue uniforms with silver accents, their armor reflecting the sunlight. They carried long spears tipped with glowing stones, their stern faces softened slightly by the colorful festival banners that fluttered in the breeze behind them.
Poca, ever the leader, hopped down from the wagon first, her feet landing softly on the cobblestone road. Her curvy, stitched frame moved with confidence, wearing that burlap dress she was so fond of, claiming nostalgia. She approached the guards with her usual easy smile, her accent lilting in the air as she greeted them. “Bonjour, monsieurs. We are ‘ere for ze festival. Any chance of getting through without too much fuss?”
The guard closest to her raised an eyebrow but smiled back politely. “Just routine, ma’am. We’ll need to inspect your wagon, nothing more.”
Paola, who had been watching the exchange nervously, felt a wave of relief. This wasn’t going to be the hassle she feared. As the guards approached, she quickly pulled her cloak tighter around her, feeling a sudden need for modesty despite her increasing comfort with nudity. Old habits died hard, and in a city this grand, she didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention.
The inspection was brief. The guards, after peeking into the wagon and checking over their papers, nodded to one another and waved the group through. “Welcome to Valarian,” one of them said with a small nod, stepping aside to allow them passage.
Once through the gates, the full spectacle of Valarian hit Paola like a wave. The sprawling city unfolded before them, a riot of colors, sounds, and scents. The streets were wide and bustling with activity. Stalls lined the sidewalks, each one a vibrant display of goods—glittering jewels, exotic spices, enchanted trinkets, and finely woven fabrics. Merchants called out to the crowds, their voices competing with the lively music that drifted from performers stationed at every corner.
People of all shapes, sizes, and species filled the streets. Paola saw elves with silver hair and long, elegant robes bargaining with rugged dwarves who carried massive hammers slung over their shoulders. She saw humans, gnomes, and beings she couldn’t even name—all mingling together in the bustling marketplace.
Overhead, the floating ships she had marveled at earlier glided gracefully through the air, their sails catching the magical winds that seemed to fill the skies above Valarian. Each ship was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, with gleaming wood and intricate carvings decorating the hulls. Some carried banners with sigils she didn’t recognize, while others seemed to belong to traders, delivering goods to the heart of the city.
As Paola continued to take it all in, her senses were assaulted by the smells of roasting meats, freshly baked bread, and sweet pastries. Her stomach growled in response, reminding her that they hadn’t eaten in hours. She glanced over at Poca, who was busy chatting with one of the stablemasters about securing their wagon and oxen for the duration of their stay.
The stablemaster, a burly man with a thick beard and a leather apron, nodded as Poca handed him a small pouch of coins. “We’ll take good care of ‘em,” he promised, leading the oxen toward the nearby stable. The wagon, now empty of its precious cargo, was parked securely alongside several others.
Satisfied that everything was in order, Poca turned back to the group, her stitched-on smile widening as she approached. “All set. Ze oxen and ze wagon are taken care of. We can explore ze city without worry.”
Paola smiled back, grateful for Poca’s efficiency. She took a deep breath, letting the vibrant energy of the city wash over her. “Where to first?” she asked, feeling a growing excitement at the prospect of exploring this incredible place.
Yasmin, who had been nearly vibrating with energy since they arrived, practically bounced on her heels. “The market! I want to see all the enchanted stuff! There’s supposed to be this amazing stall that sells fire crystals—perfect for spellcasting!” Her wings fluttered eagerly behind her, their fiery hues catching the light.
Selene, who had been quiet for most of the journey, finally spoke up, her eyes scanning the bustling streets. “I’m more interested in finding something to eat,” she said, her voice calm but determined. “We’ve been traveling for hours, and I’m starving.”
Paola chuckled. “I’m with you on that. Let’s find something to eat first, then we can explore.”
The group nodded in agreement and began making their way through the crowded streets. As they walked, Paola marveled at the intricate architecture that surrounded them. The sandstone buildings were adorned with colorful banners and carved with elaborate patterns that told stories of the city’s history. Some of the taller structures had lush gardens on their rooftops, the greenery spilling over the edges and creating a beautiful contrast against the golden stone.
The roads were busy, but the people seemed to move in an unspoken rhythm, each one finding their place in the chaos. Children ran through the streets, laughing as they played games with one another, while vendors shouted out the latest deals on their goods. Musicians played lively tunes on street corners, and performers dazzled the crowds with displays of magic and acrobatics.
Eventually, they found themselves in a large square, where long tables had been set up, covered in food and drink. It seemed they had stumbled upon one of the free feasts that Poca had mentioned earlier. The scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and exotic spices filled the air, making Paola’s mouth water.
“Perfect,” Selene said, her dark eyes lighting up as she headed toward the nearest table. “Let’s eat.”
They each grabbed a plate and began piling it high with food. There were roasted meats seasoned with herbs Paola didn’t recognize, fragrant rice dishes mixed with colorful vegetables, and an array of sweet pastries that made her stomach growl in anticipation. As they sat down to eat, Paola couldn’t help but smile at the sense of camaraderie that had grown between them. It was a far cry from the anxious girl who had arrived in Udanara not so long ago.
As they dug into their meal, Yasmin’s excitement about the festival was obvious. She chattered on about the various stalls she wanted to visit, the performances she wanted to see, and, of course, the magical artifacts she hoped to buy. Selene, on the other hand, ate in quiet satisfaction, occasionally adding a wry comment here or there as Yasmin rattled on.
Poca, sitting next to Paola, leaned over and gently nudged her with her elbow. “Excited?” she asked, her deep blue skin glowing in the warm light of the feast. The stitches that ran up her thighs and across her chest seemed less pronounced in the soft glow, and Paola couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her.
“Yeah,” Paola admitted. “It’s overwhelming, but in a good way. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Poca chuckled softly. “You ‘aven’t seen anything yet. Ze festival ‘as just begun.”
The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets of Valarian. The marketplace was alive with the sounds of traders calling out their wares, the hum of chatter, and the occasional burst of laughter from children running through the square. Paola and her companions sat at one of the long feast tables, their plates piled high with an assortment of meats, fruits, and vegetables. The smell of roasting meats and fragrant herbs filled the air, and the food was as vibrant as the city itself.
Paola glanced down at the roast on her plate, its tender, smoky flavor melting in her mouth as she took a bite. “This is amazing,” she said, savoring the richness of the meat. “But... I have to ask—what's the deal with pigs? Selene mentioned something about them before.”
Yasmin, sitting across from her, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grinned. “Well, there are pigs,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “but they’re considered sacred in some parts of Udanara. They’re associated with one of the old gods, so people tend to avoid eating them unless they’re specifically raised for feasts in certain regions. Sacred pigs, you know?”
Paola raised an eyebrow. “Sacred pigs? Of course,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “So, no bacon?”
Yasmin laughed. “Not unless you want to upset a few religious folks. But don’t worry, there’s plenty of other wild beasts that make great substitutes. Udanara’s filled with a variety of creatures, some of which taste even better than what you’re used to. It’s like there’s as much variety in meats as there are in fruits and vegetables.”
Selene, who had been quietly enjoying her meal, glanced up and nodded. “It’s true. We have wild beasts like the Razorhorn, or if you’re lucky, you might come across a Stegora beast, which is a rare delicacy. There’s so much to try.”
Paola nodded, taking another bite of the juicy roast and savoring the flavors. “Good to know. I’ll have to keep my eyes open for these substitutes.” She wiped her hands on a napkin and turned to Selene. “Speaking of, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”
Selene sighed, her dark eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she leaned back in her seat. “I actually have to handle some business while we’re in Valarian,” she admitted, her voice carrying a note of frustration. “Some things I need to take care of so I’m not constantly hunted while we’re shopping around the city. I’ll have to meet with a few people to make sure my head doesn’t end up with a price on it by the end of the festival.”
Paola shot her a concerned look. “Is it something we need to worry about?”
Selene shook her head, her mithralite arm glinting faintly in the fading sunlight. “No, not yet. But I’ll feel better knowing it’s taken care of. Don’t worry, I’ll be around.”
Yasmin, her fiery energy already starting to build as they drew closer to the heart of the city, chimed in. “I’m also meeting up with my sister, Yucca. We’ve got some things to catch up on. Maybe tomorrow or the day after, Paola, you and Poca can meet her. I think you’d like her—though she’s a bit more serious than me.” She winked playfully.
“I’d like that,” Paola said, smiling at Yasmin’s obvious excitement. “You go enjoy your time with her. We’ll catch up later.”
Yasmin nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing in her seat. “I’ll try to find you later! This festival is huge, though, so don’t be surprised if I get lost in the crowd for a while.”
With their meals finished, the group stood, ready to part ways for the time being. Poca, ever practical, made sure the room they had secured at a nearby inn was sorted out before they dispersed. The inn, tucked near the stables where their wagon and oxen were safely housed, was small but cozy, providing them with a place to rest during the festival.
As the others started to get ready for their own errands, Poca turned to Paola, her blue eyes soft and affectionate. “Looks like it’s just you and me now, mon amour,” she said, her stitched smile bright as ever. Her burlap dress, simple yet form-fitting in all the right places, moved softly in the afternoon breeze.
Paola smiled, feeling a warm sense of comfort at Poca’s side. “Yeah, looks like it. Do you want to head out and explore?”
Poca nodded eagerly, though her eyes glinted with mischief. “Shall we go find Ayla first, or do you want to see ze city a bit more before we tackle zat?”
Paola hesitated. She desperately wanted to see Ayla, but the thought of facing Lady Marcelline made her stomach twist. “Not yet. I’m not sure how to start. I don’t want to go to Lady Marcelline’s place—not yet anyway. Let’s just... enjoy the city for a while.”
Poca smiled warmly and wrapped an arm around Paola’s waist. “As you wish.”
With their decision made, the two wandered deeper into the heart of Valarian. The city was alive with activity, the sounds of the marketplace filling the air—merchants calling out deals, the chatter of excited festival-goers, and the distant strains of music from street performers. The streets were lined with vibrant stalls selling everything from food to clothing to enchanted trinkets. Paola marveled at the sheer variety of goods on display.
At one point, they passed a stall selling pastries—glazed fruit tarts, flaky rolls filled with cream, and brightly colored sweets shaped like animals. Poca’s eyes lit up, and she immediately dragged Paola over to sample them.
"Try this one," Poca said, offering Paola a small, round pastry dusted with powdered sugar. Paola took a bite, and her taste buds exploded with the flavors of honey, cinnamon, and something citrusy that she couldn’t quite place.
“Wow, that’s amazing,” Paola said, her mouth full. She quickly grabbed another one, grinning as she handed it to Poca. They stood there for a moment, giggling like children as they sampled a little bit of everything.
As they continued through the market, Paola spotted a stall selling elegant clothing. Fine silks, intricately embroidered tunics, and shimmering gowns hung from racks, their vibrant colors a sharp contrast to the muted burlap of Poca’s dress.
Poca followed Paola’s gaze and chuckled. “Look at all zese fancy clothes. Not much use for us, non?”
Paola laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t think either of us are cut out for gowns. But maybe a nice cloak? Something that’ll keep you warm.” Paola's golden flecked eyes caught the soft glow of the lanterns, her gaze wandering over the selection of cloaks. "Besides, I said I'd get you a new one."
Poca’s stitched-on smile widened, and she glanced around the stalls. “I suppose a cloak could be useful. But really, mon amour, you don't need to spoil me so much. You've already done more zan enough for me."
They wandered a bit longer until they came across a stall that caught Paola’s eye. It was filled with cloaks of every kind—long, short, hooded, and even some enchanted ones that shimmered with magic. Paola’s gaze fell on a particularly striking cloak—a beautiful black and blue one that seemed to shimmer like the night sky. It was simple, but the colors matched Poca’s pale blue skin perfectly, and the length was just right, falling to mid-thigh.
Paola picked it up, running her fingers over the soft fabric. “What do you think of this one?” she asked, holding it up to Poca.
Poca’s eyes widened, her stitched smile softening into something more tender. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice almost hesitant. She reached out to touch the fabric, and for a moment, her usual playful demeanor faded. “You think it suits me?”
Paola smiled warmly and nodded. “I think it’s perfect for you.”
Without a second thought, Paola handed the vendor a small pouch of coins and purchased the cloak. Poca stood there, staring at her as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
“Paola... you didn’t ‘ave to—” Poca began, but Paola cut her off with a gentle smile.
“I wanted to,” she said softly, wrapping the cloak around Poca’s shoulders. “You deserve something nice.”
To Paola’s surprise, Poca’s eyes filled with emotion. She pulled the cloak tight around herself, her usual teasing grin replaced with a softer, more vulnerable expression. “I... no one has ever... merci, Paola,” she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “I will treasure zis.”
Paola felt her heart swell with affection as she watched Poca run her fingers over the fabric, clearly cherishing the gift. She reached out and gently cupped Poca’s face, their foreheads touching for a brief moment. “You’re welcome, Poca. You mean a lot to me.”
Poca’s cheeks flushed a soft shade of purple, her signature blush, and she grinned shyly. “Well, zen... I suppose I should ‘onor zis new cloak by getting rid of zis awful dress.”
With a playful wink, Poca quickly slipped out of her burlap dress, folding it neatly before tossing it into one of the bags of fabrics they had purchased. She twirled in her new cloak, now completely naked beneath it, and grinned mischievously at Paola. “Ah, yes... I see why you like zis naked-under-ze-cloak business. It feels... freeing.”
Paola burst out laughing, shaking her head. “See? I told you! It’s the way to go.”
As Paola and Poca continued to wander the vibrant, bustling streets of Valarian, the energy of the festival pulsed around them. The air was alive with the hum of conversation, laughter, and the clinking of goods exchanging hands. Poca now walked proudly at Paola’s side, her new black and navy-blue cloak swirling around her with every step. She grinned playfully, enjoying the freedom of being naked beneath the soft fabric, her pale blue skin only partially revealed.
Paola, in her own black cloak with silver trim, felt a strange sense of connection to Poca in this moment. They matched, not just in their cloaks but in the comfort they found in each other’s presence. The streets were crowded, but the festival was an overwhelming spectacle of color, smells, and sound, almost intoxicating in its energy.
As they moved through the more luxurious section of the festival, the merchants seemed to shift too. Their polished stalls gleamed with rare treasures and exotic goods. Paola noticed how some of the merchants eyed them, but not with judgment or discomfort. Instead, they seemed to see through them in a strange way, making educated guesses that left Paola slightly unnerved.
One merchant, a tall man draped in velvet robes, waved them over with a knowing smile. “For you, my dear,” he said to Poca, his eyes lingering on the subtle dirt stains on her hands from the garden, “perhaps a set of enchanted gardening tools? Light as a feather but strong enough to work through any soil.”
Poca blinked, then looked at Paola, slightly surprised. "How...?" she began, but the merchant simply winked.
Another merchant, a woman in a sharp crimson outfit, gestured to Paola. “And you, I see a warrior’s spirit, yes? I have blades from the Eastern Isles, perfect for quick strikes. Perhaps you'd like to see?”
Paola raised an eyebrow, taken aback by how easily they could read her, even though she wasn’t even carrying a weapon. She leaned closer to Poca and whispered, “How do they know?”
Poca chuckled softly, her voice low. “High-tier merchants. Zey have a knack for reading people. It’s almost a magic of its own, non? Zey can sense what you need before you even know it yourself.”
Paola shook her head in disbelief, finding it both impressive and unnerving. "That's... something."
They politely declined the merchants' offers, moving through the maze of tents and pavilions. As Paola and Poca turned the corner, the atmosphere shifted dramatically, pulling them into a scene so regal and awe-inspiring that they both froze in place. Before them was a pavilion unlike any other at the festival—a grand, shimmering structure draped in sapphire and silver, colors that seemed to radiate power and command respect. Massive banners embroidered with the image of a coiling Leviathan fluttered in the gentle breeze, the creature’s sapphire scales almost glowing as they caught the light. Silver accents lined the edges of the pavilion, reflecting the sunlight with an almost otherworldly gleam.
Paola’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes took in the sight. Everything about the scene spoke of wealth, control, and a deeply rooted power. And at the center of it all stood Lady Marcelline Valcrest.
The woman was every bit as imposing as she remembered. She was no longer young but not quite old, her age manifesting in the silver strands that ran through her once-dark hair, which now cascaded down her back like liquid silver. Her icy blue eyes were cold and calculating, cutting through the crowd with a gaze that could freeze anyone in their tracks. Her robes, layered with intricate enchantments, glowed faintly with protective magic, hinting at the layers of defense she carried with her. It wasn’t just the robes, though—it was her very presence. Lady Marcelline’s aura was one of dangerous regality, a woman who ruled not through brute force, but through subtle manipulation and power so vast it needed no flashy displays.
The presence of the Leviathan and serpent motifs made Paola’s stomach twist. There was something ancient and predatory about the way Lady Marcelline carried herself, as if she were an embodiment of the sea serpent’s cunning and power. Paola felt a wave of unease ripple through her, a reminder of how deeply entangled Lady Marcelline was in the city's power structures.
Poca sensed Paola’s tension, gripping her hand tighter under her cloak. "Keep moving," Poca whispered softly, her voice carrying the slightest tremble. "Do not draw attention."
But Paola found herself unable to look away. Lady Marcelline’s icy blue gaze seemed to pass over the crowd, searching for something—or someone. The tension in the air thickened as Paola realized just how close they were to danger. Her instincts screamed at her to move, to get out of there before Lady Marcelline’s eyes landed on them.
Paola’s heart raced as Lady Marcelline slowly scanned the crowd, her gaze sharp, calculating. The nobles around her seemed small in her presence, bowing and offering words of praise. Lady Marcelline’s aura was suffocating, a cold, regal power that seemed to weigh down on anyone who stepped too close.
Paola took a deep breath, her pulse quickening as she tried to slip past the pavilion. She knew they couldn’t stay here, not like this. Just as Lady Marcelline’s gaze drifted toward them, a large group of nobles approached, their vibrant garments a distraction that seemed to pull her attention away.
They managed to slip through the crowd unnoticed, but Paola could still feel the weight of Lady Marcelline’s presence bearing down on her like a storm cloud threatening to burst. Her head spun as she clutched Poca’s hand, her body tense with nerves.
"Zat was too close," Poca murmured, squeezing Paola’s hand again. "We need to leave zis area."
Paola nodded, unable to shake the feeling of being watched, even as they stepped away from the looming pavilion. She was still trying to steady her breathing, her mind swirling with the tension of the close call when a soft, familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Paola.”
The sound of her name, spoken so softly yet filled with emotion, stopped her in her tracks. She turned slowly, her heart skipping a beat as she saw her—Ayla, standing just outside a smaller, elegantly decorated tent nearby.
Ayla’s armor gleamed in the late afternoon light, her blackened Dragon Guard armor shining with the same intensity Paola remembered. Her mismatched red and blue eyes—so striking, so full of life—now locked onto Paola’s with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The joy of seeing Ayla again, her girlfriend, the person she had missed so desperately, flooded Paola’s heart. Without thinking, Paola shot forward, her emotions overflowing, and practically launched herself into Ayla’s arms.
“Ayla!” Paola exclaimed, her arms wrapping tightly around her.
For a brief moment, Ayla’s arms tightened around Paola in return, the familiar warmth of her embrace overwhelming Paola with relief and happiness. But then something shifted. Paola could feel it—a hesitation, a weight pressing down between them that hadn’t been there before.
Ayla slowly pulled back, and as Paola looked up into her mismatched eyes, she saw it. A sadness. A heaviness that made Paola’s chest tighten. It wasn’t just that Ayla was tired or stressed—it was something deeper, something Paola had never seen in her before.
“Ayla?” Paola’s voice was soft now, her ears flattening against her head, her tail coiling tightly around her thigh as an unease spread through her. “What’s wrong?”
Ayla’s gaze was steady but filled with a sorrow that Paola couldn’t comprehend. Her hand gently brushed a strand of Paola’s hair behind her ear, and for a moment, the tenderness in that gesture almost undid Paola entirely.
“We need to talk, Paola,” Ayla said, her voice quiet but firm, as if she were carrying the weight of worlds on her shoulders. “There’s something you need to know.”
The warmth in Paola’s chest turned cold as the words settled between them like an anchor, dragging her down into a pit of uncertainty. She wanted to ask what Ayla meant, what could possibly be so wrong, but the look in Ayla’s eyes kept her silent.
Poca, who had been watching the reunion quietly from the side, shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension. She took a cautious step closer to Paola, her light blue hand resting gently on her shoulder for support.
But Paola couldn’t tear her eyes away from Ayla. That sadness. That weight. What was it?
“Ayla,” Paola whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “What’s going on?”
Ayla glanced around briefly, her expression guarded, as if making sure they were not being overheard. Her eyes briefly flickered toward Lady Marcelline’s grand pavilion, where the noblewoman was still engaged in conversation, her icy blue eyes scanning the crowd.
“We can’t talk here,” Ayla said, her tone urgent but calm. “But I promise, I’ll explain everything.”
Paola nodded slowly, though her mind was spinning with questions, with fear. This wasn’t the reunion she had imagined. The joy she had felt just moments ago was quickly unraveling into something much darker.
As they began to move away from the crowded street, toward a quieter area where they could talk, Paola couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change. And she wasn’t sure if she was ready for what Ayla had to say.