The room was heavy with tension. Paola sat in the middle of it, surrounded by her companions—Yasmin, Selene, and Poca—all waiting for her to speak, waiting for her to make sense of what she had just shared with them. But the weight of Lady Marcelline’s words still pressed down on her like an anchor, threatening to drag her deeper into her own thoughts. She wanted to be back on Earth, wrapped in her old sweater, sweatpants, cozy socks on her feet. She wanted to hide from all of this—the chaos, the danger, the constant feeling of walking through a minefield where every step could be her last.
But there was no going back. She wasn’t just Paola anymore; she was Void Borne, a Fallen Star. And there was no escaping what that meant.
Paola’s fingers absentmindedly brushed against the belt at her waist, her dimensional bag secured to it. The dress she had prepared for the masquerade tonight was tucked away inside, along with everything else she might need. She had spent time fretting over it, thinking about how perfect it would be for teasing Ayla, for catching her off guard. But now, the idea of walking into that masquerade felt like stepping into a warzone. Marcelline’s invitation wasn’t casual; it was a move in a much larger game, one that Paola was only beginning to understand.
“What are we even supposed to do?” Paola’s voice was low, thick with frustration. “We have no clue what we’re walking into tonight.”
Yasmin, sitting on the edge of her chair, gave a lighthearted shrug, though Paola could see the concern lurking in her amber eyes. “Well, we’re not exactly the most organized bunch, are we?” she teased gently, trying to lift the mood just enough to keep things from spiraling. “But hey, we’ve made it this far, right?”
Selene leaned back against the wall, her mithralite arm flexing slightly as if testing its strength. Her eyes, deep and calculating, flicked between Paola and the others. “Marcelline isn’t someone we can afford to take lightly. Whatever her game is, it’s big. Bigger than we might be ready for.” She paused, glancing at Paola. “But we can’t ignore it, either. If what she said is true—about the Leviathan, about everything—we need to be prepared.”
Poca, sitting closest to Paola, reached out and gently touched her arm. Her mismatched eyes, one purple and one green, were soft with understanding. “Whatever you choose, Paola,” Poca said quietly, “we’ll be with you. Zere’s no rush.”
Paola’s chest tightened, torn between gratitude for her friends and the overwhelming pressure of what lay ahead. “I just wanted to come to this festival, have fun, maybe tease Ayla a little,” Paola muttered, shaking her head. “Now, we’re stuck in this… mess. And I’m starting to realize that this is what my life’s going to be. One problem after another. Forever.”
Selene gave a low chuckle. “That’s the burden of being a Fallen Star, Paola. We’re here for a reason, whether we like it or not.”
Paola closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to breathe. She didn’t ask for any of this—didn’t want any of this. Yet here she was, and now the only path forward was through the storm. She stood up, brushing her hands over the cloak she wore. Her fingers traced the belt where her dimensional bag hung, her mind settling into the reality of what had to be done. They were already late, but they needed a plan—or at least some idea of how they would approach the night.
“Well,” Yasmin said, breaking the silence with her usual upbeat tone, “before we get too deep into all this… gloom and doom, I still have to meet up with my sister, Yucca. She’ll be at the masquerade tonight, so we can meet her there.”
Paola nodded, grateful for the small distraction. “Yeah, let’s do that,” she agreed. “Might as well enjoy what we can before… well, whatever happens tonight.”
Poca’s face brightened, as did Selene’s, and soon enough, the group made their way out of the inn, moving toward the streets where the festival was already in full swing.
The streets of Valarian were transformed. As they joined the procession winding through the city, Paola couldn’t help but feel the weight of the spiritual energy that filled the air. Day three—the Day of Breath—was different from the first two days of the festival. Where the first day had been bustling with trade and the second day celebrated culture, today was sacred, reverent. People moved slowly, their faces turned upward toward the heavens as if waiting for some divine force to bless them.
The procession was led by the city’s spiritual leaders, dressed in flowing white robes adorned with symbols of the Leviathan. Priests and priestesses held staffs carved with intricate designs, their chants rising in rhythmic waves as the crowd followed in solemn silence. The sound of drums echoed through the streets, deep and resonant, like the heartbeat of the city itself.
Paola walked with her companions through the crowd, her cloak drawn tightly around her as if trying to protect herself from the overwhelming atmosphere. Yasmin stayed close to her side, her eyes bright with curiosity as she took in the sight of the massive floats that moved through the procession, each one a tribute to the Leviathan’s sacrifice. Some were shaped like the massive sea beast itself, others depicted the mythical battle between the gods and titans, their intricate designs telling stories older than time.
Poca, always observant, seemed enraptured by the ceremony. “Zis feels different,” she whispered to Paola, her voice barely audible over the chants. “Like said a hundred times over, more alive zan last year.”
Selene nodded, her eyes scanning the crowd as if assessing potential dangers even in this sacred space. “There’s an energy in the air,” she muttered. “Something more than just reverence.”
Paola, despite her earlier feelings of frustration and uncertainty, couldn’t deny it. She could feel it too. The energy was thick, electric, as if the very air was charged with the magic of the Leviathan’s final breath. It hummed against her skin, pulling at something deep inside her, something she couldn’t quite name. It made her both uneasy and curious, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside her.
As they continued through the procession, Paola found herself growing quieter, her thoughts drifting back to Lady Marcelline’s words. Resurrect the Leviathan. The idea felt impossible, insane even. But then again, nothing about Udanara was normal. And if Marcelline was serious—if she truly meant to bring back the creature whose sacrifice had given life to this world—then tonight was more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.
Her gaze fell on the Cathedral of the Leviathan as it loomed ahead, a massive structure carved from ancient stone and adorned with intricate reliefs depicting the Leviathan’s legendary battles. The grand ceremony would take place there, a moment of spiritual renewal for the entire city. And after that… the masquerade.
Paola’s heart beat faster. They had no plan, no idea what they were walking into. But one thing was clear—this was no longer just a festival. This was the calm before the storm.
As the day wore on, the tone of the city shifted. By late afternoon, the sacred energy had begun to give way to something more celebratory. The air was filled with the scent of food cooking on open fires, and musicians had taken to the streets, their melodies mingling with the distant hum of the procession still winding its way through the city.
Paola, Yasmin, Selene, and Poca wandered the streets, sampling small plates of roasted meats and sweet pastries from the vendors who had set up along the festival route. Despite the weight of everything that hung over them, there was a strange sense of peace in these moments—an escape, however brief, from the looming danger of the night ahead.
Yasmin nudged Paola playfully as they stopped by a vendor selling spiced fruits. “You know,” she said, grinning, “I think you’re taking all of this a little too seriously. We can worry about the world-shattering stuff later. Right now, we’re at a festival.”
Paola gave her a half-hearted smile. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with Lady Marcelline breathing down your neck.”
Yasmin laughed. “True, but come on. You’ve got to admit, the festival’s pretty amazing. We’re eating great food, watching some amazing performances, and soon enough, you’ll get to show off that dress you’ve been hiding in your magic bag.”
Paola’s smile widened despite herself. “I suppose.”
Selene, who had been quiet for most of the day, gave a small nod. “Yasmin’s right. You can’t solve everything at once. We’ll deal with Marcelline when the time comes. But for now, enjoy what’s in front of you.”
Poca smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling. “We’re here with you, Paola.”
Paola’s chest tightened, but this time, it wasn’t from fear or doubt. It was gratitude. She had friends—no, she had family—with her. And whatever tonight held, she wouldn’t face it alone.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the city, the streets of Valarian buzzed with excitement for the grand masquerade. Elaborate costumes and masks were already being donned by the citizens, and the music grew louder, more festive. The final day of the festival was reaching its climax, and soon, the night would fall.
Paola glanced at her friends, her heart pounding in her chest, not from fear this time, but from the knowledge that together, they could face whatever came next.
"Let’s do this," she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else, as they made their way toward the Cathedral.
The grand spires of the Cathedral of the Leviathan rose above them, their shadow stretching out across the cobbled streets as Paola, Yasmin, Selene, and Poca made their way toward its open doors. The procession from earlier had led them here, the final destination of the sacred festival. Now, the city of Valarian pulsed with excitement, as everyone gathered for the Grand Ceremony—the climax of the festival.
Paola felt the weight of the cathedral's towering presence as they approached. It was beautiful, undeniably so. Carved from ancient stone, the cathedral was a masterpiece of architecture, its walls adorned with intricate engravings that told the story of the Leviathan’s sacrifice. Vast stained-glass windows captured the fading sunlight, casting brilliant hues of gold, blue, and violet across the courtyard and spilling like liquid magic onto the crowd gathered there. The doors themselves, etched with scenes of the Leviathan’s legendary battle, creaked open as the last of the procession entered.
Paola’s cloak billowed in the soft evening breeze as they stepped inside. Yasmin, ever the playful one, marveled at the cathedral’s grandeur, her amber eyes wide with awe. "This place is unreal," she whispered, barely able to contain her excitement. "I’ve never seen anything like it."
Poca’s mismatched eyes sparkled in the light filtering through the stained glass, her gentle voice filled with reverence. “Zis is incredible... so much magic in ze air. Can’t you feel it?”
Selene, though more composed, seemed taken aback by the sheer magnitude of the place. Her usually guarded demeanor softened as she ran her fingers lightly along the stone walls, tracing the carvings with silent admiration.
Paola felt it too—the magic, the power humming beneath the surface. But unlike the others, she couldn’t shake the unease that gnawed at the back of her mind. The cathedral, while beautiful, carried a strange energy. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The air here felt different, heavier. The magic wasn’t simply felt—it was alive, twisting in ways that made her skin prickle.
As they found their seats in the vast chamber, the grand dome above them loomed like the sky itself, its intricate frescoes depicting the Leviathan’s final moments. At the far end of the cathedral stood an enormous altar, upon which rested a colossal statue of the Leviathan, its serpentine body coiled protectively around the sacred Tree of Life, carved from stone so dark it seemed to swallow the light.
The ceremony was about to begin.
The High Priestess, draped in shimmering silver robes, stepped forward onto the dais. Her voice, strong and clear, echoed through the cathedral as she addressed the crowd. “Brothers and sisters of Valarian, we gather here today, as we have for centuries, to honor the Leviathan’s great sacrifice.”
Her words were steady, filled with reverence, but to Paola, they carried a strange weight. The priestess continued, her voice weaving through the air like a spell, captivating the crowd as she spoke of the Leviathan’s sacrifice—the moment when the great beast had given its final breath to save Udanara from destruction.
“As the gods and titans waged war upon our world,” the priestess said, her hands raised toward the towering statue, “the Leviathan chose to act not in violence, but in love. Its final breath gave life to the barren lands, filled the seas, and nourished the earth. We owe everything to the Leviathan’s selflessness. Its sacrifice is the foundation upon which our world thrives.”
Paola’s attention flickered back to the ceremony, but something in the corners of her vision caught her eye. A flicker—like shadows moving along the far edges of the cathedral. Her brow furrowed. She glanced at Yasmin, who was smiling, caught up in the beauty of the moment, utterly unaware of anything unusual.
Shadows again.
Paola’s eyes narrowed as she focused on the movement, trying to discern whether it was just a trick of the light, the flicker of candles dancing along the stone walls, or… something else. Her tail flicked nervously under her cloak. Was she just being paranoid? Or was something—someone—moving where they shouldn’t be?
The priestess continued, her voice rising in pitch and fervor. “The Leviathan taught us that true power is found in sacrifice. That it is through giving of oneself that we create a legacy that lasts beyond time. And now, in these sacred walls, we honor that legacy. Tonight, we are all reminded of what the Leviathan gave us—magic, life, and protection.”
The crowd murmured in agreement, their faces filled with awe and devotion. But Paola couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. As she scanned the room, she saw more shadows—this time closer. They moved unnaturally, gliding along the walls like smoke, their forms shifting and slipping between the cracks of the stone pillars.
Her pulse quickened. This wasn’t her imagination.
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, her instincts screaming at her to stay on guard. She wasn’t sure what she was seeing, but it wasn’t right. The shadows weren’t just tricks of the light—they were moving with purpose.
"Do you see that?" Paola whispered to Selene, who was seated beside her.
Selene raised an eyebrow, glancing in the direction Paola was staring. “See what?”
Paola blinked. The shadows were gone. Her stomach twisted. Was she losing it?
Before she could say anything more, the High Priestess’s voice crescendoed, pulling her attention back to the front of the cathedral. The crowd was growing more excited, the energy in the room building with every word.
“And so, on this sacred night, as we prepare to celebrate the Leviathan’s gift with the Masquerade, we honor the breath that gave us life. Let us never forget that the Leviathan’s sacrifice was not in vain, and that through unity, we can continue to protect the world it left behind.”
The crowd erupted in applause, the sound echoing through the cathedral like thunder. Yasmin clapped enthusiastically, her amber eyes glowing with excitement, and Poca gave a soft cheer, clearly moved by the ceremony. Even Selene nodded in appreciation, though her eyes remained sharp, always assessing.
Paola, however, felt none of their cheer. The tension in her body had reached its peak. The priestess’s words, though beautiful, had woven through her with a sense of foreboding. The way she spoke of sacrifice, of the Leviathan’s legacy—it was too familiar, too much like what Lady Marcelline had hinted at.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
She caught another movement out of the corner of her eye—this time more pronounced, more deliberate. A dark figure slipped between two stone columns near the far end of the cathedral, just out of sight of the crowd but visible enough for Paola to catch the fleeting shadow.
Her tail whipped with anxiety as she stood, unable to shake the feeling that they were being watched, that something was about to happen.
“Paola?” Yasmin’s voice cut through her thoughts, her expression concerned. “You alright?”
Paola forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, just... it’s a lot to take in.”
The ceremony was ending, and people were beginning to move toward the exit, chattering excitedly about the upcoming masquerade ball. The energy had shifted again—from reverence to celebration—but Paola couldn’t relax. Her nerves were still buzzing.
As they made their way toward the door, Paola glanced back at the cathedral one last time. The massive statue of the Leviathan loomed over the room, its stone eyes staring down at her. For a brief moment, she swore she saw something shift—something dark and spectral, slithering through the shadows behind the altar.
She blinked, and it was gone.
The others continued talking excitedly about the ball, completely oblivious to the rising tension Paola felt in her gut. She followed them out of the cathedral, her mind racing with questions, with doubts. What had she seen? Was it real? Or was her paranoia getting the best of her?
As they stepped into the cool evening air, Paola couldn’t help but feel like they were walking straight into a trap. The shadows that had moved through the cathedral were more than just tricks of the light. She was sure of it. And Lady Marcelline’s words echoed in her mind.
Resurrect the Leviathan.
Paola’s hands clenched into fists under her cloak. Whatever was happening tonight, whatever Marcelline was planning—it wasn’t good. And Paola had no intention of letting herself or her friends be caught off guard.
Not tonight.
The air outside still felt too thick. Paola could barely breathe as they made their way out of the grand hall, her chest tightening with every step. Lady Marcelline’s words, the shadows she kept seeing out of the corner of her eye, the looming feeling of a trap—it was all crashing down on her like a tidal wave. Her tail flicked nervously behind her, almost lashing out with each twist of emotion that built in her gut, and her ears pressed flat against her head as if trying to block out the world.
Poca, ever gentle, glanced over and noticed Paola's rising tension. “Paola,” she said softly, her voice like a calming breeze, “you’re doing it again.”
Paola blinked, her head jerking toward Poca, who was watching her with a look of concern. “Doing what?”
“You know,” Poca said, gesturing lightly toward Paola’s twitching tail and the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her cloak. “You’re... not exactly great at hiding when you’re stressed.”
Paola opened her mouth to respond, but the words seemed to stick in her throat. Poca’s soft, mismatched eyes—one a vivid green, the other a deep purple—were filled with understanding, but that didn’t calm the storm brewing inside her. If anything, it made her more aware of just how badly she was handling things. She wanted to be calm, to feel in control, but every step she took closer to the masquerade, the heavier everything felt.
Poca’s voice cut through the noise in her mind, trying to soothe her. “Zere isn’t much we can do about it right now,” she said gently. “You have to be... at peace, at least for now. We need to be ready, but zere’s no point in worrying about things we can’t control.”
Be at peace. Be ready.
Paola nodded slowly, but inside, everything felt like it was unraveling. Every instinct screamed at her that she was walking into something horrible. Lady Marcelline was too calm, too in control. She had known things—things Paola hadn’t even realized were possible, and the fact that she was so willing to share them set off alarm bells in Paola’s mind. Nothing about this felt right. No one, not even her companions, seemed to feel it the way she did. Yasmin was marveling at their surroundings, her amber eyes shining with excitement. Selene, always pragmatic, kept her composure, but even she seemed more intrigued by the beauty of the festival than by any sense of danger.
Paola’s chest tightened again as she realized just how alone she felt in that moment. She wasn’t the strategist here. Every story she’d ever read, every movie or anime she’d watched—whenever the main character walked into a situation like this, they had a plan. Something. Anything. But here she was, walking blind, surrounded by danger, and no plan to speak of.
She tried to speak, to voice the growing sense of panic clawing at her throat, but all that came out was a soft sigh. She swallowed hard, trying to focus, but her mind kept bouncing back and forth between all the things that were spinning out of her control. Lady Marcelline. Ayla. The Fallen Stars. The resurrection of the Leviathan. The dancing, the ball, the masquerade. Void Borne. The Leviathan. Yasmin. Poca. Earth. Her family. Oso.
Thought after thought crashed into her, relentless and overwhelming. It felt like someone had turned the volume up in her mind, and now all she could hear was the roar of her own panicked thoughts, each one louder than the last.
Her breathing quickened.
"Paola?"
She heard the voices—Yasmin, Poca, Selene—but they felt distant, like they were being muffled by the cacophony in her head. Everything was moving too fast and too slow at the same time. The world felt like it was slipping out of her grasp, spiraling out of control, and she was powerless to stop it.
“Paola, hey,” Yasmin’s voice sounded far away, almost distorted. She felt a tug on her arm, and she blinked, realizing that Yasmin was pulling her along. “We’re heading to the changing rooms. You with us?”
Paola couldn’t find her voice to respond. She let herself be pulled along, her legs moving on autopilot while her mind continued to race. Her vision blurred, her pulse hammering in her ears. It was as if the world around her had tilted, but she was the only one who could feel it.
Her heart pounded harder. She was having an anxiety attack. Here. Now. After everything. She could still have these? Her mind screamed at her, angry and confused. Why now? Why like this?
She blinked, and suddenly Poca’s face was right in front of her. They were backstage, or at least it felt like backstage, in a dimly lit hall full of false walls and rooms meant for changing. The orange lamps cast a soft glow over the space, but it only made the shadows feel heavier. Poca’s pale blue skin shimmered slightly under the light, her mismatched eyes wide with concern as she held Paola’s face gently in her hands.
“Paola... breathe,” Poca said softly, her voice cutting through the fog in Paola’s mind. “Just breathe. I’m right here.”
Paola took a shuddering breath, but it didn’t feel like enough. She was still drowning in her thoughts, her panic swirling around her like a storm she couldn’t escape from. But Poca didn’t let go. She kept her hands on Paola’s face, her thumbs brushing softly against Paola’s cheeks as she locked her gaze on her.
“Breathe with me, okay?” Poca whispered, her voice steady and calm. “In and out.”
Paola blinked, her vision focusing on Poca’s gentle, stitched smile. That smile... so familiar, so safe. She focused on it, on the way Poca’s lips curved in that sweet, reassuring way. Slowly, she took another breath. In and out. Just like Poca said.
The world began to slow down. The sounds around her became clearer, the pressure in her chest began to ease, if only a little. Poca’s soft hands were warm against her skin, grounding her, pulling her out of the spiraling panic and back to reality.
“Zere, you go,” Poca said, her voice soothing as she smiled wider. “Zere you are. You’re okay.”
Paola let out a shaky laugh, her heart still racing but not as wildly as before. “I... I don’t know what happened.”
“You just got a little lost in your head, zat’s all,” Poca replied, her hands still gently holding Paola’s face. “But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Paola stared at Poca’s mismatched eyes, feeling the warmth of her presence washing over her. Slowly, the world began to make sense again. The panic was still there, lingering at the edges of her mind, but it wasn’t suffocating her anymore. She could breathe. She could think.
“I was just...” Paola sighed, her voice quiet, her chest still tight. “Everything was too much. I couldn’t—”
Poca nodded, her expression soft and understanding. “You’ve been through a lot, Paola. Anyone would feel like zat after what we’ve been dealing with.”
“I know,” Paola said, taking another deep breath. “But it’s like... everything just came crashing down on me at once. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t focus.”
Poca’s smile never faltered. She sat down next to Paola, still keeping her hand on Paola’s cheek as if to keep her grounded. “It’s okay to feel zat way. Zis is a lot. But you’re not alone, okay?”
Paola swallowed hard, the weight of Poca’s words settling into her. She nodded slowly, feeling a little more in control of herself now. “Thanks, Poca.”
Yasmin, standing nearby, gave Paola a sympathetic look but didn’t say anything. Instead, she offered a playful grin and nudged her lightly. “You alright there, starlight? You looked like you were about to pass out on me.”
Paola chuckled, though it was a weak sound. “Yeah... I guess I kind of lost it for a second.”
Selene, who had been watching quietly from the corner, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re ready for this? The masquerade isn’t exactly a walk in the park.”
Paola sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, Selene. I honestly don’t. But what choice do we have? We’re walking into this blind.”
Yasmin stepped closer, her usual playful energy tempered with concern. “We’ve got each other. That’s something, right?”
Paola looked between her friends—Poca, with her soft eyes and ever-present smile; Yasmin, with her cheeky grin and fiery spirit; Selene, always cool and calculating but undeniably reliable. She wasn’t alone. Not really.
She took another deep breath, the tightness in her chest loosening. “Yeah... we’ve got each other.”
Poca’s smile widened, her hand still resting on Paola’s cheek. “Zat’s right. And we’ll figure zis out, mon amie. Zat much I know for sure. But for now... let's get dressed for the masquerade, oui? I have a feeling we won't be able to relax until after all is said and done, but zat doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun."
Yasmin grinned. "Now that's something I can get behind."
Paola nodded, the weight on her shoulders lifting just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now. They were walking into unknown territory, and she was still scared. But at least she wasn’t walking in alone.
Paola stepped behind the ornate wall with a sigh, the soft hum of chatter and banter from Yasmin, Poca, and Selene fading slightly into the background. She glanced at the mirror mounted on the wall and pulled her dress out of the dimensional bag on her belt. The black fabric slipped through her fingers like water, the silver trimmings catching the dim light of the ballroom’s changing area.
Her fingers hesitated for a moment as she held the dress up to her chest. She knew what wearing this would mean. In Udanara, everything was connected to magic, power, and abilities. Her cloak gave her a boost in strength and agility, a shield against the unpredictability of battle. It even had abilities she had yet to use. Never wanting to summon any number of spiders for any amount of reason. But this dress—this stunning, elegant thing—was for beauty, for grace, not for fighting. She sighed, already feeling the weight of her decision. She would be vulnerable in this. No traits, no cloak, just her.
But when she slipped into the dress and saw herself in the mirror, her breath caught in her throat.
The woman staring back at her in the mirror was undeniably stunning—something she rarely felt, but tonight, she couldn't deny it. The black dual high-slit cocktail dress clung to her lithe frame like it had been made for her, hugging her in all the right places. The slits ran daringly high on both sides, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs and hips with every subtle movement. The open back of the dress allowed her tail to sway freely, its gentle flicks accentuating the natural curve of her body. The silver trimmings shimmered against the black fabric, tracing the contours of her slim waist, and drawing attention to the delicate lines of her figure.
Her small breasts, barely held by the form-fitting bodice, gave her an understated allure—one that didn’t need to boast but left just enough to the imagination. The fabric molded to her petite frame, emphasizing the softness of her hips and the gentle curve of her legs, all while hinting at the strength she held beneath the surface.
Paola’s hands, slightly trembling, tugged her hair up and back into a loose yet seductive bun, the messy strands framing her face just behind and between her ears. Her golden-flecked brown eyes, wide with surprise, traced the outline of her body in the mirror, lingering on the bare skin the dress left exposed—the way the fabric caressed her like a lover’s touch.
She had always felt out of place in this world, caught between the person she had been on Earth and the Fallen Star she was now. But this? This was something else. A rare moment where she could look at herself and see not just a fighter or a reluctant hero, but a woman—sensual, confident, and beautiful.
Barefoot, she stood tall, no longer feeling out of place in this strange world. The air around her seemed to buzz with a quiet power, the dress transforming her from the reluctant fighter she often saw herself as, into someone alluring, someone who could command attention with just a glance. Paola nearly felt a tear form at the corner of her eye. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t just a Fallen Star caught between worlds—she was a woman who felt undeniably beautiful.
She smiled softly, her tail flicking playfully behind her as she admired her own reflection. The exposed curves of her thighs, the way the dress accentuated every inch of her body, made her feel powerful in a way that went beyond magic or battle. This was a different kind of power—one that came from owning her beauty, her body, and the way she moved through the world.
With one last deep breath, Paola stepped out from behind the partition.
What she saw nearly knocked the air out of her lungs.
Standing before her were Yasmin, Poca, and Selene, each of them dressed in their own stunning gowns. Each of them transformed.
Yasmin’s outfit was the first to catch Paola’s eye. The fiery redhead stood confidently, her vibrant, flame-like hair cascading over her shoulders in waves. She wore a velvet crimson corset mini dress that clung to her body with a sensual precision, the deep red of the fabric striking against her pale skin. The corset hugged her figure, drawing attention to her curves, the boning of the bodice emphasizing her slim waist while pushing up her chest just enough to leave a tempting hint of cleavage. Her fiery wings fluttered softly behind her, a striking contrast against the deep, luxurious red of her dress.
The short hemline of the dress revealed her toned legs, long and lean, enhanced by the pair of elegant yet sturdy heels she wore—sleek black stilettos with crimson accents that looked as though they could be worn to a battle just as easily as a ballroom. The heels gave her an extra boost in height, accentuating the natural curve of her legs and adding a sultry confidence to her stride. But what truly caught Paola’s attention was the subtle, unexpected shyness in Yasmin’s expression, a slight blush dusting her freckled cheeks. Though Yasmin exuded a bold, almost dangerous allure, there was a delicate softness in her gaze, a flicker of vulnerability that made her seem even more captivating.
Next was Poca, a vision of ethereal beauty, her outfit contrasting with Yasmin's fiery energy in the most enchanting way. She wore a deep sapphire halter-neck mini dress that clung to her lithe frame like liquid silk, the rich blue of the fabric enhancing the cool, soft glow of her pale blue skin. The deep V-neck plunged dramatically down her chest, revealing just enough to be tantalizing, but not excessive. The fabric molded to her every curve, emphasizing the doll-like perfection of her body, but it was the detail that truly set her apart—the stitched blue ribbon that trailed between her breasts and ran along her thighs, like delicate bows sewn directly into her skin.
Poca's mismatched eyes—one a vivid emerald green, the other a striking amethyst purple—sparkled with playful excitement, the colors vibrant against the backdrop of her otherworldly complexion. She stood barefoot, matching Paola in her preference for the natural feel of the cool stone beneath her feet. Paola knew Poca preferred the comfort of being undressed, but tonight, even this minimal amount of clothing made her look utterly mesmerizing. The deep sapphire contrasted perfectly with her, creating an image of innocent beauty paired with an underlying sensuality that was impossible to ignore. Her ever-present smile—stitched and sweet—was as endearing as ever.
And then, there was Selene.
Paola's breath hitched as her gaze fell on the demoness, her outfit somehow both regal and seductive. Selene wore a cut-out mini dress that was a deep, regal purple with black trim, a color that accentuated the ash-gray hue of her skin. The fabric wrapped tightly around her body, leaving slivers of skin exposed in tantalizing glimpses along her chest, stomach, and thighs. The cutouts were daring, perfectly placed to reveal enough without giving away everything, creating a teasing, dangerous allure. The dress fell just below her knees, its sleek design giving her the appearance of a dark goddess, each movement fluid and controlled, like liquid shadow.
Her black horns curved gracefully from her head, framing her face like a crown, while her silver hair had been braided down her back in an intricate, elegant style. The dress revealed something else, too—inked into her skin were tattoos, now visible in the exposed areas. The tattoos were swirling, ancient symbols that glowed faintly with an otherworldly energy, their lines wrapping around her body like living tendrils of power. They added an extra layer of mystery and allure to her already imposing presence.
Selene’s feet were adorned with black glass-like slippers that sparkled under the soft light, their sleek design matching the elegance of her dress while adding a touch of danger. They were simple but elegant, complementing her entire look in a way that made her appear both untouchable and irresistible. Her sharp features, usually so cold and calculating, were softened by the elegance of her attire, yet the intensity in her dark purple eyes remained. Selene’s presence commanded the room without effort—she was a force, a dark and beautiful power wrapped in the most dangerous allure Paola had ever seen.
Paola's heart skipped a beat as she stood there, staring at the three women before her. Each of them—Yasmin with her fiery energy, Poca with her ethereal beauty, and Selene with her dark, dangerous allure—were breathtaking in their own ways. They looked like they belonged in this world of grandeur, like queens stepping into their court.
Yasmin caught Paola’s eye first, her amber gaze twinkling with mischief as she took in Paola’s stunned expression. "Well, well, look who’s finally dressed to kill," she teased, her lips curving into a playful grin as she tilted her head, her fiery hair cascading down her shoulders. "Damn, Paola, you look... wow."
Paola’s face flushed, a warmth spreading through her chest as she met Yasmin’s gaze. "I—I don’t know about that," she stammered, glancing down at herself. "But... thanks. You guys look... incredible."
Poca giggled softly, her mismatched eyes shining as she stepped closer. "Zis feels like a dream, doesn’t it?" she murmured, her voice as soft and sweet as her smile. "Being all dressed up, looking beautiful... it’s nice. We don’t get to feel zis way often."
Paola nodded, though her mind was still racing with everything that had happened, and everything that was about to. But even amidst the chaos, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of joy at this moment. It felt normal, almost. A fleeting sense of peace.
Selene, ever the quiet observer, stepped forward, her dark gaze sweeping over Paola with an unreadable expression. "You’ll turn heads tonight," she said, her voice low and smooth, the barest hint of approval in her tone. Her tattoos, now fully visible in the exposed parts of her skin, seemed to pulse faintly with magic, adding an ethereal quality to her already otherworldly appearance.
Paola smiled softly, feeling the tension in her chest ease just a little. She was still nervous—about the ball, about what Lady Marcelline had said—but standing here, surrounded by these incredible women, she felt stronger. She wasn’t alone in this. She had them.
"Alright, enough with the serious looks," Yasmin said suddenly, her wings fluttering behind her as she clapped her hands together. "We’re here to look hot and have a good time, remember? Let’s enjoy this before everything goes to hell."
Poca laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yes, let’s. Tonight, is ours, at least for a little while."
Paola chuckled softly, her tail flicking behind her as she felt a small spark of excitement begin to stir within her. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Let’s enjoy it while we can."
And with that, they left the changing area, stepping into the ballroom with a sense of anticipation and readiness. Whatever the night held, they would face it together.