Paola sat alone in the small, dimly lit room. The single bed creaked slightly beneath her weight as she shifted, curling her legs up beneath her and pulling the heavy blanket tighter around her shoulders. The oil lamp on the nightstand flickered faintly, casting soft, uneven light over the room’s sparse furnishings. The walls, rough stone covered with a thin layer of plaster, felt cool to the touch, and the air inside was still, quiet but for the occasional soft rustling of Paola’s movements.
A simple wooden table stood by the window, its surface cluttered with a few of Paola’s belongings—her black cloak, neatly folded with the silver trimmings just peeking out, and her belt, casually tossed on top of it. The open window let in a gentle evening breeze, which brushed across her tan skin, still warm from the fading sun outside. Despite the quaintness of the room, it felt comfortable, a refuge of sorts from the overwhelming noise of the festival and the chaos that had brewed within her ever since her strange encounter with Ayla earlier that day.
She took a deep breath, forcing her mind to settle. She was angry, confused, and hurt, and reading was the only thing she could think of to calm herself. She had bought a book earlier while they were shopping for dresses—an old, rare piece that she had immediately recognized as something valuable. Poca had urged her not to spend the three whole gold squares it had cost, but Paola couldn’t resist. She needed answers. She needed to understand Udanara in ways she hadn’t yet. And most importantly, she needed to distract herself from everything swirling around inside her.
The book was heavy, bound in worn leather, its pages brittle with age. The title etched into the cover was faded but still legible: The Gods and Titans of Udanara: A History of Divine Conflict. Paola settled against the headboard, opening the book slowly, reverently, as if afraid the fragile pages would crumble in her hands.
She had spent hours reading now, her mind swimming in the intricate histories and grand stories of Udanara’s ancient past. The dim light of the oil lamp flickered as she turned another page, her fingers tracing the words as she tried to absorb every detail. Her focus drifted back to the passage she had been poring over for some time—the story of the gods and the titans.
The gods, she read, were not originally from Udanara. They had come from beyond, drawn to the world's abundance of magic and vibrant life. It felt strange, reading about these same gods who existed in Earth’s mythologies—Zeus, Odin, Thor, Hades—yet here they were, with their own history in Udanara. Here, they were real forces, not mere myth.
Zeus and Odin had formed a coalition of gods, each bringing their own unique power to Udanara. The gods saw Udanara as a land to conquer, a place to mold in their image. Zeus ruled with thunder and lightning, his storms scarring the land, while Odin sought to bring order and knowledge. But the gods weren’t a united front; their ambitions often clashed, each one desiring their own dominion over Udanara. Hera and Frigg imposed structured societies and family hierarchies, while Ares and Thor led brutal campaigns, delighting in the glory of battle.
The more she read, the more Paola felt a knot tighten in her chest. These weren’t just stories—these were histories. Histories of a world now tangled with her own existence. Her mind drifted to the conversation she’d had with Yasmin earlier, about her role as a Fallen Star. It felt more like a curse than a gift. She had fallen from the sky, plucked from her life on Earth and thrust into a war that she didn’t ask to be part of.
But the titans, now they intrigued her. The titans were different—forces of chaos and nature, beings who sought not to rule but to protect the natural balance of Udanara. Gaea and Ymir, embodiments of earth and frost, fought against the gods to preserve the world’s untamed beauty. Cronus, the titan of time, distorted reality itself to stop the gods from imposing their will. Oceanus and the Leviathan, rulers of the oceans, waged endless war against the gods of the sky, seeking to keep the seas vast, wild, and unknowable.
And then there was Prometheus.
Prometheus had once sided with the gods, she read, betraying the titans to aid humanity. But here, in Udanara, he had returned to the side of the titans, recognizing that the gods’ desire for control would strip the world of its freedom. He sought to preserve the will of mortals, to ensure that they weren’t mere puppets in the gods’ grand game of power. Paola admired that. She had always admired stories where someone stood against overwhelming power for the sake of freedom. And in this war, Prometheus had allied with the Fallen Stars, lending his knowledge to help them fight against both divine and titanic forces.
Fallen Stars. Paola still struggled with the term. The book made it clear how important they were—champions summoned from across the multiverse, pulled into Udanara to tip the balance of power. They were mortals from distant worlds, gifted with abilities to combat gods and titans alike. As a Fallen Star, she had been chosen, but for what purpose? To fight? To save Udanara from destruction? The burden felt immense, and she wasn’t sure if she could bear it.
She turned the page, her fingers trembling slightly. There, in the faded text, she read about the Tree of Life—Udanara’s sentient core, the mystical force that bound all magic and life on the planet. When the war between gods and titans threatened to destroy everything, the Tree had acted, reaching beyond the boundaries of Udanara to summon the Fallen Stars.
The Tree had chosen her. But why?
Paola let out a frustrated sigh, closing the book for a moment as she rubbed her temples. The dim light of the oil lamp flickered as the weight of it all pressed down on her. She hadn’t asked for any of this. She didn’t want to be some grand savior, some chosen champion in a war she barely understood. She just wanted to live. She wanted her life back. The thought of being a part of these divine and titanic conflicts felt like a prison, not an honor.
Her mind wandered back to Ayla and their strange encounter earlier. Ayla had been cold, distant, a stark contrast to the warmth and love Paola had always known from her. Something had changed. Paola’s stomach twisted as she remembered Ayla’s sadness, the unspoken weight between them. What had happened to her? And why couldn’t she talk about it?
Paola shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. She didn’t have answers yet, and reading about gods and titans wouldn’t solve the mystery of Ayla. But maybe... maybe understanding more about Udanara would help her find some clarity.
She opened the book again, her eyes falling on the next passage. This part detailed the final stages of the war, when the Fallen Stars had arrived. They had been mortals, just like her, plucked from their lives and thrown into battle. Some of them wielded magic that rivaled the gods themselves; others had technology beyond Udanara’s comprehension. They were legends, warriors who fought valiantly, even though they were outnumbered and outmatched.
The titans, recognizing the power of the Fallen Stars, had allied with them. Prometheus, Oceanus, and even Gaea had offered their strength and knowledge, knowing that the gods sought to strip Udanara of its freedom. Together, they had managed to turn the tide of the war.
And then there was the Leviathan.
The Leviathan, an ancient sea beast, had made the ultimate sacrifice. In a desperate bid to save Udanara, the Leviathan unleashed its Last Breath—a cataclysmic event that reshaped the land and forced the gods to retreat. The Leviathan’s death created a barrier of elemental energy that still lingered in the world, a reminder of the power and cost of the titans’ fight for freedom.
Paola paused, staring at the words. The Festival of Breath—the celebration she was currently in the middle of—was held in honor of the Leviathan’s sacrifice. The people of Valarian and Udanara saw it as a time to celebrate life and magic, to give thanks for the prosperity the Leviathan had brought.
But now, knowing the full story, Paola felt the weight of it differently. It wasn’t just a festival; it was a reminder of the chaos that had nearly destroyed the world. The Leviathan’s death had saved Udanara, but the war had never truly ended. The gods and titans still lingered, waiting, plotting.
And she, as a Fallen Star, was caught in the middle of it all.
She closed the book with a soft thud, her hands shaking slightly. Her mind was full of questions, but there were no clear answers. The gods and titans were still out there, and so was she—a small piece in a much larger game.
Curling up on the bed, she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She glanced over at the window, the cool night air brushing against her skin. Poca was still out, trading her goods at the market, and Paola was alone with her thoughts.
She looked back down at the book and sighed. No matter how much she learned, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in over her head. The gods, the titans, the Fallen Stars—it all felt so far beyond her. She was just Paola, a girl from Albuquerque. How had she ended up here, caught in a war that spanned worlds?
But as she lay there, staring at the flickering light of the oil lamp, one thought kept circling in her mind. She was a Fallen Star. She had been chosen for a reason. And whatever that reason was, she would find it.
Even if it felt like a curse.
She would find it.
Paola breathed deeply, shifting under the blankets as she settled back into the small bed. The flickering oil lamp on the nightstand cast a soft, warm glow over the dim room. Her hair fell into her face, but she didn’t bother moving it. Her body felt tired, not from any physical exhaustion but from the emotional weight of everything that had transpired since she’d arrived in Valarian. She flipped the book back open, diving once again into the ancient, swirling world of gods, titans, and Fallen Stars.
The single window let in a cool breeze, carrying the distant hum of festival sounds still echoing from the streets below. For a moment, she tried to focus only on the book, on the words describing the aftershocks of the divine war. Yet, no matter how much she read, she couldn’t push aside the hollow feeling left by her encounter with Ayla.
Her eyes scanned the words, but her mind kept wandering back to the sharpness in Ayla's voice, the sadness in her mismatched eyes. What happened to her? Paola wondered, but there were no answers in the book, no clarity to be found. The air felt heavier, as if the weight of everything she’d learned about Udanara was pressing down on her chest.
She forced herself to read more, hoping for some kind of distraction.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The Fallen Stars, having fulfilled their purpose, either died in battle or integrated into Udanara’s societies. Some became rulers and legends, while others disappeared into obscurity. Their legacy, however, remained, as the world had been forever changed by their intervention...
Paola’s heart sank as she read about the Fallen Stars, realizing more and more how deeply her fate was tied to this world’s violent, ancient history. She didn’t feel like a legend, or even someone capable of changing anything. The idea that she was part of some grand cosmic game between gods and titans made her stomach churn. She had been plucked from her life on Earth, without any explanation, and thrust into a story that seemed too big for her to comprehend. All she wanted was a simple life, maybe with Ayla, maybe with Poca. But this... this was something else entirely.
She traced her fingers over the faded ink as the book detailed the present-day world of Udanara, where the gods still held influence, subtly shaping events and controlling the balance of power. The titans, though dormant, were still present, their worshippers fiercely dedicated to maintaining the natural order. And, in the middle of it all, the Fallen Stars—people like her—still loomed in legend, summoned when the world needed them most.
Paola couldn’t shake the feeling that she was nothing more than a pawn in a much larger game. She let out another sigh, closing the book gently as if it held too many burdens for her to carry right now.
The door creaked open, breaking her thoughts, and Paola looked up just in time to see Poca step into the room. Relief washed over her, but it was short-lived as she noticed that Poca wasn’t alone.
Trailing behind her, with her usual swagger and a grin, was Yasmin.
“Great, just great,” Paola muttered under her breath, groaning slightly. Yasmin had a way of pulling her out of her thoughts, but right now, Paola wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
Yasmin, unphased by Paola’s groan, chirped up in her usual energetic tone. “Hey! Glad to see you’re still alive! This little doll here,” Yasmin nudged Poca playfully, “found me while I was out looking for you guys. Figured I’d come back and see what the hell is going on.”
Paola gave her a halfhearted smile, feeling the tension between her shoulders ease just a little. She loved Yasmin’s energy, but right now, all she wanted was some peace. She sat up on the bed, closing the book and setting it aside. “Went to bed early, I guess,” she mumbled, rubbing her temple.
Yasmin, ever perceptive, caught the hint of frustration in Paola’s voice. She paused for a moment, her amber eyes flicking between Paola and Poca, who had settled quietly beside her. “What happened?” Yasmin asked, her teasing tone fading as she sensed something heavier in the room.
Paola took a deep breath. “I ran into Ayla,” she said softly, her eyes downcast. Telling her briefly about the short exchange.
Yasmin’s expression shifted, her fiery energy dimming slightly. “Ah, that explains the sour face,” she muttered, her brows furrowing in thought. “Look, I don’t know what exactly went down between you two, but I’ve worked for nobles before, and it’s never simple. There’s always something going on behind the scenes. Sacrifices have to be made sometimes... but that doesn’t mean she’s not with you, you know?”
Paola’s eyes met Yasmin’s, and though she appreciated the attempt to console her, it didn’t make the knot in her chest loosen. “I’m still going to the masquerade,” Paola said, almost defiantly.
Yasmin raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk creeping onto her lips. “Oh? You’re going to waltz into a fancy party full of scheming nobles after a fight with your girlfriend? I mean, by all means, but just avoid Ayla and Lady Valcrest, yeah?”
Paola pouted jokingly, her golden-flecked brown eyes narrowing in playful frustration. “Fine, fine,” she muttered. But even as she joked, the unease from her conversation with Ayla lingered. Her ears drooped slightly, betraying her mood.
Suddenly, Paola's playful demeanor faded. Her ears flattened further as she narrowed her eyes at Yasmin. "Wait a minute... why aren’t you with your sister?”
Yasmin blushed, her confident exterior faltering for the briefest moment. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “I, uh, met up with her. We had a nice little catch-up,” she mumbled, clearly flustered by Paola’s question.
Paola blinked, noticing the faint flush on Yasmin’s cheeks, visible even in the dim light. Her suspicions deepened, and she turned her gaze to Poca, who had been unusually quiet the entire time. Poca’s pale blue skin, usually relaxed and warm in Paola’s presence, seemed tense, as if she were holding something back.
“What’s going on?” Paola asked, her voice low and careful as she glanced between the two women.
Poca’s eyes darted to Yasmin, and the two exchanged a brief, unreadable look. Then, Yasmin let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, okay,” she said, raising her hands in surrender. “Poca and I had a little talk before coming back here, and, well...”
Yasmin stumbled over her words, her usual confidence nowhere to be found. For the first time since Paola had known her, Yasmin looked awkward, even a little nervous. She avoided Paola’s gaze for a moment, rubbing the back of her neck again.
“Well, maybe,” Yasmin began, her voice softer than usual, “maybe I’d like to tell you something. Something important.”
The room fell silent, the flickering light of the oil lamp casting shadows over Yasmin’s flushed face. Paola stared at her, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in Yasmin’s voice. This wasn’t like her. Yasmin was always explosive, always full of energy and fire, never one to hesitate or stumble over her words.
Paola’s heart pounded in her chest as she waited for Yasmin to continue, her golden-flecked eyes locked onto her friend, unsure of what was about to happen.
Yasmin finally looked up, meeting Paola’s gaze with an uncharacteristically soft expression. “I know I’m not great with... emotions,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But there’s something I need to say.”
Paola held her breath, her mind racing. What could Yasmin possibly want to ask her that had her so nervous?
Yasmin opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. She glanced at Poca again, who gave her a small, reassuring nod. Yasmin took a deep breath, and then, finally, she spoke.
“Paola, I—”
The words hung in the air, unfinished, as Yasmin struggled to find the right way to say what she wanted to. Yasmin stood there, shifting her weight from foot to foot as if the ground beneath her had suddenly turned into lava. Paola, sitting cross-legged on the small bed, stared up at her friend, her golden-flecked eyes blinking in confusion. Poca, who had taken a seat on the bed near Paola, watched quietly, her stitched smile never faltering but her curiosity piqued.
Yasmin, usually brimming with explosive energy, seemed almost... nervous. Which, if Paola were being honest, was both bizarre and fascinating to watch. Yasmin, the girl who could turn a simple hello into a firework display of emotion, was now struggling to form words, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"Okay, okay," Yasmin began, rubbing the back of her neck as she fidgeted. "I need to say something, and it’s weird because, like, I don’t get nervous. Ever. But here we are, and my heart is doing this really annoying thing where it’s pounding way too fast, and I’m... ugh, why is this so hard?"
Paola tilted her head, genuinely curious but utterly lost. "Yasmin? What’s going on?"
Yasmin took a deep breath, her fiery red hair falling over her shoulders in a messy cascade as she bit her lip. "Okay, Paola, listen. This is going to sound crazy, but I think I’m... I mean, I know I’m... really, really into you. Like... obsessed. But in a cute way. Maybe." Yasmin scrunched up her face after the statement.
Paola blinked, her ears twitching in surprise as she tried to process what she had just heard. "Obsessed?"
"Yeah!" Yasmin blurted out, her voice cracking slightly as she gestured wildly with her hands. "I know it sounds intense, but that’s just how I am! I’m intense. It’s like, every time I see you, there’s this... thing inside me that just... flips out. It’s like my brain goes, 'Oh, there she is, the cutest, funniest, bravest person ever,' and I can’t... I don’t know how to make it stop!"
Paola sat there, still trying to piece together what was happening, but Yasmin wasn’t done. In fact, she was only just getting started.
"I’ve had crushes before," Yasmin continued, her words spilling out faster now, like she was afraid they might run away from her if she didn’t say them all at once. "Like, you know, little ones. But this? This is different. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. Ever. And I don’t even know if it’s because you’re a Fallen Star or because you’re just... you. You’re funny and innocent, and then you turn around and be all bold and brave, and it’s like... how do you exist?"
Paola's tail flicked in confusion, her eyes widening as she realized where this might be heading. "Wait, Yasmin, are you saying—"
"That I’m in love with you? Yes! No! Maybe? I don’t even know!" Yasmin threw her hands up in frustration, pacing back and forth in the small room. "But it’s not just because you’re a Fallen Star! I mean, yeah, maybe we wouldn’t have met if you weren’t a Fallen Star, but that’s not the reason I’m obsessed with you. It’s just... you! Everything about you!"
Poca, who had been watching this entire scene unfold with an amused glint in her eyes, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She simply leaned back, enjoying the spectacle of Yasmin’s sudden emotional outburst.
"I want to be in your harem!" Yasmin suddenly exclaimed, as if the words had been building up pressure inside her and finally burst out. "I want to be your third girlfriend!"
Paola choked on air. "W-what?!"
"I know, I know," Yasmin stammered, her face now a deep shade of red. "It’s weird, right? But I’ve been thinking about it, and I see how you are with Poca and Ayla. You care about them so much, and I’m just like... I want that too! But it’s not just that I want to share you. I mean, yes, I do want to share you with Poca and Ayla, because I know how much they mean to you, but I also want to be a part of it. I want to be in on that love. Does that make sense? Probably not. I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?"
Paola, still blinking rapidly, felt her ears flatten in sheer bewilderment. "Wait... you want to be... my third girlfriend?"
"Yes!" Yasmin nearly shouted, throwing her arms out dramatically. "I want to be your third girlfriend, and I’m totally okay with sharing! I mean, I know I’d have to share because you already have Poca and Ayla, but I’m fine with that! I’m not even jealous, which is so weird for me because I’m usually super competitive, but this? This feels different. I just... I just really want to be part of whatever this is!"
Paola stared at Yasmin, her mouth slightly open, trying to find the words to respond. She had never—ever—seen Yasmin so flustered before. The girl who was always so confident, so brash, was now stumbling over her words, trying to confess her feelings in the most Yasmin-like way possible: with explosive, chaotic energy that somehow managed to be both endearing and overwhelming.
Poca, finally unable to contain her amusement, let out a soft laugh. "She’s serious, Paola," she said, her voice gentle but teasing. "I think zis is ze most vulnerable I’ve ever seen her."
Yasmin turned to Poca, still red-faced but determined. "Yes, I’m serious! I just... look, Paola, I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a total weirdo, but I’ve never felt like this about anyone. And I don’t want to keep pretending like I’m just your friend when I feel... so much more than that."
Paola, completely flabbergasted, ran a hand through her hair. "Yasmin... I don’t even know what to say."
"You don’t have to say anything right now!" Yasmin hurriedly added, stepping closer to the bed but stopping short as if afraid she might scare Paola off. "I just... I had to get it out, okay? I had to say something before I exploded. Literally. I might have set myself on fire if I didn’t tell you."
Paola blinked a few more times, then, despite herself, let out a soft laugh. "That... that sounds like you."
Yasmin grinned, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Yeah, I guess it does. Look, I know this is a lot to dump on you, but I just wanted you to know that... well, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m willing to be whatever you need me to be. A friend, a... girlfriend, whatever. Just... just don’t tell me to back off completely, okay?"
Paola’s heart softened at Yasmin’s awkward but earnest confession. She looked up at Yasmin, who, for all her fiery energy, was standing there, vulnerable and waiting. Paola couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth bloom in her chest.
"I... I don’t know what to say," Paola admitted, her voice soft but honest. "This is a lot, Yasmin. But... I appreciate you telling me."
Yasmin bit her lip again, her eyes wide and hopeful. "So... does that mean I’m not completely screwed?"
Paola chuckled. "No, you’re not completely screwed."
Poca, still sitting on the floor, grinned mischievously. "Seems like we have a contender for z’e harem."
Yasmin let out a relieved laugh, her usual energy slowly returning as she rubbed the back of her neck again. "Well, I guess that’s better than setting myself on fire, right?"
Paola smiled, her heart lighter than it had been in hours. "Yeah, much better than that."
And as the three of them sat there, the awkwardness slowly fading, Yasmin's explosive confession left a warmth in the room that felt more like home than chaos.