Selene stumbled through the unforgiving desert, each step sinking deeper into the soft, treacherous sand. It was as if the earth itself was conspiring to hold her back, to drag her down into its unyielding embrace. The relentless sun, now dipping toward the horizon, cast long shadows that stretched across the landscape, painting everything in hues of orange and crimson. She could feel the weight of the belt she had stolen, the dimensional bag holding Paola's belongings pressing heavily against her hip, a constant reminder of the terrible mistake she had made.
Her thoughts were a chaotic jumble, racing from one regret to the next, never settling long enough for her to find any sense of clarity. Everything had happened so fast, too fast for her to comprehend. She hadn’t expected to see Poca—not here, not now, not in these circumstances. The moment she had locked eyes with the blue-skinned woman, everything she had been holding together so carefully had begun to unravel. Why now? Why, after all this time, did she have to run into the one person who could tear open the old wounds she had worked so hard to heal?
Selene didn’t even realize she had fallen until the sand pressed up against her back, her legs giving out beneath her as if the last of her strength had been sapped away. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the sky, watching as the sun slowly descended, its light fading into the twilight. She could feel the warmth of the day giving way to the chill of the approaching night, but the cold that gripped her now came from within, a deep, gnawing emptiness that threatened to consume her whole.
How did this happen? How did everything go so wrong so quickly? The plan had been going so well. All she needed to do was get in and get out, retrieve what she had come for, and leave before anyone was the wiser. She had been with Paola, the fallen star, the woman Thrix had told her about, the one who was supposed to hold the key to everything. And then the Eye of the Storm had appeared, and everything had fallen apart.
Selene's thoughts circled back to Paola, the woman she had the lucky chance of finding in the cave and now had the blessing to finder's keepers, while ensuring that she didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Thrix had been right—Paola was innocent, ignorant even, of the power she held within her. Only someone so naive, so untainted by the harsh realities of this world, would have chosen to fight the Eye of the Storm alone. It was madness, sheer stupidity, and yet there was something almost admirable in it, something that made Selene pause and question everything she had been told.
Was Paola really from another planet, as Thrix had insisted? The idea had seemed so far-fetched, so impossible, and yet... Selene had seen the signs, had heard Paola’s story, the one about being saved by a Sword Maiden. That had been the final piece, the one thing that made it impossible to deny the truth any longer. Paola wasn’t just a fallen star—she was something more, something otherworldly. And Selene had known, deep down, that she was playing a dangerous game by getting involved.
And then the beast had come, the monstrous Sand Golem Zombie, the Eye of the Storm. And she had seen them—those ridiculous, stupid, pink fluffy slippers. Diamond-tier, capable of untold power, hidden behind their absurd appearance. The moment she had laid eyes on them, something inside her had snapped. This was all some sort of test, some twisted game that the universe was playing with her, pushing her to her breaking point, seeing how much she could take before she shattered completely.
Anxiety, stress, depression, regret—they all clawed at her insides, a sickly, tar-like substance that oozed through her veins, tainting everything it touched. It was like a poison, slowly eating away at her soul, leaving her hollow, empty. And yet, none of it compared to the control she had tried so desperately to maintain over her life, over her choices, over her fate. She had faced so much, had overcome so many challenges, and yet here she was, broken by her own hand.
Poca. The name echoed in her mind, a bitter reminder of everything she had lost, of everything she had thrown away in her pursuit of power, of control, of freedom. She had actually hit Poca. The woman who had saved her, who had given her a second chance at life, who had shown her kindness when no one else had. She had raised her hand against her, struck her down in a moment of blind panic and desperation. Why? Why had she done it? All for what? For this? For a belt full of stolen goods? For a pair of slippers?
She clenched her metal fist, the one Poca had crafted for her, and screamed into the sky, a primal, guttural sound that tore from her throat with a force that left her breathless. The sound echoed across the empty desert, a lonely cry of anguish and despair that was swallowed by the vastness of the world around her. She lay there, panting, her chest heaving with the effort, but there was no relief, no satisfaction, only the hollow emptiness that had taken root deep within her.
She was about the strongest person on this side of the world. That’s what she had always told herself, what she had believed for so long. She had fought her way to the top, had clawed and scratched and bled to get where she was, and yet… she was her own worst enemy. No one had done this to her. No one had forced her to make these choices. It had all been her. She had the slippers, the feather—everything she needed to achieve her dream, to leave all of this behind, to live the life she had always wanted. But at what cost? What had she sacrificed to get here?
Selene thought about Poca's farm, the simple, peaceful life that the blue-skinned woman had carved out for herself, away from the chaos, away from the darkness that had consumed so much of their world. Wasn’t that the dream? To leave it all behind, to find a place where she could be free, where she could live without the constant fear, the constant pressure to be more, to do more, to take more?
She had once dreamed of that life, too. A life where she could be free from the burdens that weighed her down, free from the expectations that others placed on her, free to be herself, whoever that was. But that dream felt so distant now, so far out of reach. She had lost sight of it somewhere along the way, lost herself in the pursuit of power, of control. And now, all she had left was the greed that had driven her to this point, the insatiable desire for more, for something that could never truly satisfy her.
Selene lay there, staring up at the sky as the last rays of sunlight faded into the deep purples and blues of twilight. She was empty, utterly, completely empty. The only emotion left within her was the greed that had consumed her, the greed that had led her to strip Paola's body, to take what wasn’t hers, to betray the one person who had ever shown her true kindness.
The sand was cold against her back now, the heat of the day rapidly dissipating as night fell over the desert. The stars began to appear, one by one, twinkling in the darkening sky, distant and untouchable. Selene watched them, feeling a strange sense of detachment, as if she were floating above it all, disconnected from her own body, from her own thoughts.
What was she even doing out here? What was the point of any of this? She had the power she had sought, the items she had coveted, but what did it matter? What did any of it matter when she had lost everything else that was important? She had hurt Poca, had betrayed her trust, had taken from her the one thing that had connected them—the arm that Poca had given her, the one she had used to strike her down.
How could she ever go back now? How could she ever face Poca again, after what she had done? The weight of her actions pressed down on her, suffocating her, choking her with the realization of how far she had fallen. She had become the very thing she had sworn never to be—a monster, driven by greed and desperation, willing to hurt anyone who stood in her way.
The tears came then, unbidden, a slow, steady stream that rolled down her cheeks and into the sand. She didn’t try to stop them, didn’t try to hold back the sobs that wracked her body, shaking her with the force of her grief. She cried for everything she had lost, for everything she had destroyed, for the person she had once been and could never be again.
Time passed in a blur, the stars wheeling overhead as the night deepened. Selene didn’t move, didn’t try to get up, didn’t try to go anywhere. She had nowhere to go, nothing to strive for, nothing to fight for. She was lost, adrift in a sea of her own making, with no way to find her way back.
Eventually, the tears dried up, leaving her empty once more. The night was cold now, the chill seeping into her bones, but she barely felt it. The cold was nothing compared to the numbness that had taken hold of her, the numbness that had settled deep within her chest, where her heart had once been.
Selene closed her eyes, letting the darkness take her. She was so tired, so very tired. She wanted to sleep, to forget, to let go of everything that had brought
her to this point. But even as she drifted on the edge of consciousness, a small, stubborn part of her refused to give in, refused to let go of the one thing that still drove her—the greed, the desire for more.
She had the slippers and the feather. She had the power. And with the right moves, she could still have everything she had ever wanted. She could still find a way to leave it all behind, to find the freedom she had always sought. But at what cost? What would she have to sacrifice next? Who would she have to betray, to hurt, to destroy, in order to get there?
The questions circled in her mind, relentless, unanswerable. She didn’t know the answers. She didn’t know if she wanted to know. But she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it, from planning her next move, from trying to figure out how to use what she had taken to her advantage.
Poca’s farm. That was the dream, wasn’t it? To leave everything behind, to find peace, to live a simple life far away from all of this. But could she ever truly have that? Could she ever truly be free, after everything she had done, after everything she had become?
Selene lay there, staring up at the stars, feeling the weight of her choices pressing down on her. She was strong, so very strong, but it didn’t matter. Strength couldn’t save her now. Strength couldn’t fix what was broken inside her. All she had left was the greed, the hunger for more, the desire to control, to possess, to dominate.
She didn’t want to feel this way. She didn’t want to be this person. But she didn’t know how to stop. She didn’t know how to turn back, how to undo the damage she had done. She was trapped, caught in a web of her own making, and there was no way out.
With a deep, shuddering breath, Selene forced herself to sit up, her body aching from the cold and the strain of her emotions. She couldn’t stay here, lying in the sand, wallowing in her guilt and regret. She had to keep moving, had to keep going, had to find a way to make this right—if that was even possible.
She looked down at the metal fist in her hand, the one Poca had crafted for her, the one she had used to strike her down. The sight of it made her stomach twist with disgust, with self-loathing. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve anything that Poca had given her. But she had taken it anyway, because that was who she was. A taker, a thief, a betrayer.
But maybe, just maybe, she could still find a way to make things right. Maybe there was still a chance for redemption, for forgiveness. It wouldn’t be easy, and it might not even be possible, but she had to try. She owed that much to Poca, to Paola, to herself.
With a grimace, Selene pushed herself to her feet, the cold night air biting at her skin as she stood. The desert stretched out before her, vast and empty. She stood there, her thoughts heavy with regret and self-loathing, the chill of the desert night seeping into her bones. She had made up her mind—she had to try and make things right with Poca. It was a long shot, but it was the only way she could think of to atone for the terrible mistake she had made.
But as she took a step forward, a low, menacing growl echoed through the quiet night, freezing her in place. The sound sent a jolt of fear through her, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned her head slowly, her eyes scanning the dark, empty expanse of sand around her.
Then, out of the shadows, a small figure emerged—Oso, the bear cub, his dark fur blending with the night, only the glint of his eyes visible under the starry sky. His growl rumbled low and deep, filled with a warning that Selene didn’t need words to understand.
She took a step back, her breath catching in her throat as Oso slowly advanced, his growl growing louder, more insistent. The sight of the little cub, once so harmless and innocent, now filled her with a dread she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t his size or strength that terrified her—it was the reminder of what she had done, of what she had lost, of the life she had snuffed out.
“Oso…” Selene whispered, her voice trembling, her heart breaking at the sight of the cub. He was Paola’s companion, the one creature who had stayed by her side through everything, and now he was here, facing her, his tiny body radiating a fierce protectiveness that belied his size.
Selene’s eyes welled with tears as she watched Oso approach, each step he took a reminder of the life she had taken, of the woman she had betrayed. She had stolen from Paola’s lifeless body, driven by greed and desperation, and now she was being confronted by the last remnant of that life, the one creature who had loved Paola unconditionally.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I’m sorry,” Selene whispered, her voice breaking, the words spilling from her lips as if they could somehow undo the damage she had done. “I’m so sorry…”
Oso’s growl softened, but his approach didn’t stop. He moved closer, his eyes fixed on Selene, his gaze filled with a mixture of sorrow and accusation that tore at her soul. She could feel the weight of his presence, the silent judgment in his eyes, and it crushed her.
She sank to her knees, the cold sand biting into her skin as she lowered herself before the cub, her head bowed in submission. “I never meant… I didn’t want…” Her voice cracked, the words faltering as the reality of what she had done pressed down on her with unbearable force.
Oso paused a few feet from her, his growl fading into a soft, mournful whine. He sniffed the air, his small nose twitching as he caught the scent of the belt she wore, the one she had stolen from Paola’s body. Selene could see the recognition in his eyes, the pain of loss that mirrored her own.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, her tears falling freely now, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. “I’m so, so sorry…”
For a moment, everything was still. The night was silent except for the soft sound of Selene’s weeping, the stars above indifferent to the agony unfolding below.
Then, to Selene’s shock, Oso moved closer. He sniffed at her, his warm breath ghosting over her hand. She didn’t dare move, barely breathed, as the cub investigated her, his small, wet nose brushing against the belt she wore.
A moment later, he let out a soft, plaintive sound, a mix of sadness and resignation. He nuzzled the belt, but there was no aggression in his movements, only a deep, mournful longing for the one who had worn it before.
Selene’s heart shattered at the sight, her guilt overwhelming. She reached out with trembling fingers, hesitating before she gently stroked Oso’s fur, expecting him to pull away. But he didn’t. Instead, he pressed into her touch, his small body trembling with grief as he accepted her comfort, even if he didn’t fully understand why.
Selene’s tears flowed freely as she continued to pet the cub, her mind racing with the realization of what she had done, of the lives she had torn apart in her quest for power. She had taken everything from Paola—her belongings, her companion, her life—and for what? For a pair of slippers, a belt, and a feather? The weight of her greed crushed her, filling her with a deep, gnawing emptiness that nothing could ever fill.
She didn’t know how long she stayed there, kneeling in the sand, her hand on Oso’s soft fur, her tears falling onto the cold ground. But eventually, she knew she couldn’t stay like this forever. She had to move, had to do something to make this right, even if it was impossible.
“Let’s go back,” she whispered to Oso, her voice hoarse and broken. “Let’s… let’s go find Poca. Maybe… maybe she can help us.”
Oso didn’t move for a moment, his dark eyes searching hers as if trying to understand her words. Then, slowly, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his trust in her not entirely broken, despite everything.
Selene took a deep, shuddering breath and forced herself to stand, her legs weak beneath her. She picked up the belt, the weight of it almost unbearable now, and secured it around her waist. Then, with Oso by her side, she turned back toward the way she had come, the path that would lead her back to Poca.
She didn’t know if Poca would ever forgive her, if she could ever make amends for what she had done. But she had to try, because the alternative—the life she had chosen, the path she had walked—was one she could no longer bear.
As she and Oso began their slow, silent trek back across the desert, the stars above them watched, cold and distant, indifferent to the struggles of the two small figures below. Selene’s heart ached with every step, the weight of her choices pressing down on her, but she kept moving forward, driven by the faint, flickering hope that maybe, somehow, she could find a way to make things right.
***
The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt both comforting and unsettling at the same time. Paola leaned back in the chair, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin in the small gap between her knees. The tattered remains of her cloak lay draped over the stool nearby, a sad reminder of the battle she had barely survived. The setting sun cast a warm, golden light through the broken window, highlighting the worn, but clean, surfaces of the room. It was a simple space, with just a bed, a small table, and the chair she was sitting in. Despite its simplicity, there was a sense of peace here, a welcome respite from the chaos she had been enduring since arriving in Udanara.
Poca had left earlier, heading to the inn and offering Paola a chance to join her. But Paola had declined, needing the solitude to gather her thoughts, to reflect on everything that had happened. The fight with the golem had humbled her in a way she hadn’t expected. She wasn’t as strong as she had thought, not even close. And that realization cut deeper than any wound she had suffered.
She thought back to her training with Jester at Lady Marcelline’s palace, the pirate-like figure who had pushed her to her limits, and beyond, in his time-diluted sessions. One hour outside had been four hours inside his world, and she had spent nearly 100 hours in just two days, dying and reviving over and over as Jester drilled one lesson into her: dying didn’t hurt; living did. Every time she fell, she was reminded of that pain, the frustration of being alive in a world that seemed determined to tear her apart.
Since arriving in this godforsaken land, she had been ravaged by one thing after another. Every time she thought she could catch her breath, something new would knock her down. For one brief moment, she might think she could enjoy herself, and then, boom—she was killed. And what even was a T'shal'ara? The fact that she had nine lives, like some sort of cosmic cat, only added to the confusion. Was she even human anymore? The thought gnawed at her, mixing with the memories of everything she had endured.
As she sat there, trying to make sense of it all, Poca returned, pushing the door open with her hip as she balanced two tin boxes and a bottle of what looked like red alcohol. The sight of her made Paola’s heart lift, if only a little. Poca was a strange comfort in this chaotic world, her calm demeanor and lilting accent a soothing balm to Paola’s frayed nerves.
Poca set the boxes and bottle down on the small table, along with two tiny glasses. “I brought zis for us,” she said, her accent thickening as she settled into the chair opposite Paola. “I zought we might 'ave a bit of a celebration, non? Or at least, a drink to take ze edge off.”
Paola smiled, a small but genuine smile that she hadn’t felt in a while. “That sounds perfect.”
Poca opened one of the tin boxes, revealing a neatly arranged assortment of food—rice, pickled vegetables, and slices of some kind of meat that Paola didn’t recognize. The other box held a similar arrangement, and Poca handed one to Paola before pouring the red alcohol into the glasses.
“Cheers,” Poca said, raising her glass with a grin.
“Cheers,” Paola echoed, clinking her glass against Poca’s before taking a sip. The alcohol was strong, burning its way down her throat, but it was a welcome burn, a reminder that she was still alive, still here.
They ate in companionable silence for a while, the food simple but satisfying. Paola found herself relaxing, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her, loosening the tension that had been coiled so tightly inside her. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this, just to sit and share a meal with someone, to talk and laugh, even if only for a little while.
As they ate, Poca began to talk, her voice soft and lilting in the quiet room. “I met a boy recently,” she said, almost offhandedly. “Abraham. 'E’s only eleven years old, but 'e 'as seen too much, been through too much. 'Is grandfather asked me to take 'im across ze provinces to Windmere, a dying man’s wish.”
Paola looked up from her food, her interest piqued. “That’s a long journey. Why did you agree to take him?”
Poca sighed, her gaze distant for a moment as she swirled the liquid in her glass. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe because I’m a soft 'eart. Maybe because 'e reminded me of someone I used to know. Or maybe because I 'ave nothing better to do with my time.” She smiled, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “It’s a hard journey, but someone 'as to do it.”
Paola nodded, understanding the weight of responsibility that Poca had taken on. “Where is he now?”
“Sleeping,” Poca replied, her voice softening. “'E’s been through so much, and 'e needs all ze rest 'e can get. If 'e wakes, Carter will find me.”
Paola raised an eyebrow. “Carter?”
“One of my puppets,” Poca explained with a small smile. “'E’s... well, 'e’s like a guardian to me. Always watching, always ready to 'elp when I need it.”
The conversation drifted naturally, the alcohol loosening their tongues and making them more open, more honest. Paola found herself talking about the storm, about losing Ayla and Ta’huka, her two friends who had been with her since the beginning. She was unsure where they were now, but she hoped they were heading to Emberfall, as that was the plan they had all agreed on. She told Poca about her worries, her fears, and the loneliness that had settled over her like a shroud.
“It sounds like you 'ave been through a lot,” Poca said gently, her eyes full of understanding. “I know zat feeling, of losing people you care about, of not knowing where to turn.”
Paola sighed, resting her head on her knees. “It’s been... it’s been hard. But I’m trying to stay strong. I have to, if I’m going to find them.”
Poca nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. “I understand. Maybe zat is why we crossed paths, oui? Maybe we’re supposed to 'elp each other.”
Paola smiled at that, the idea of finding strength in companionship something she hadn’t considered in a long time. She had been so focused on surviving, on fighting her way through this world, that she had forgotten the value of having someone by her side.
As the conversation continued, Paola’s thoughts turned to Selene, the woman who had taken her dimensional bag. She had wanted to avoid the topic, but the alcohol loosened her tongue, and before she knew it, she was asking Poca how she knew Selene.
Poca’s expression grew distant, her eyes clouding with memories as she took a long sip of her drink. “I found 'er on a riverbank,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “She was badly injured, missing 'er arm. I brought 'er back to my farm and gave 'er a new one, a metal prosthetic.”
Paola’s eyes widened in surprise. “You made that arm?”
Poca nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Oui, I did. It was not easy, but I 'ave a gift for zat sort of thing. I’m a puppeteer, after all.”
Paola nodded, understanding now the connection between the metal arm and Poca’s unique skills. “That’s incredible. You must be very talented.”
Poca shrugged, though there was a hint of pride in her eyes. “I do what I can. But... it was more than just making 'er an arm. It was about giving 'er a second chance, about showing 'er zat she wasn’t alone.”
Paola’s curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself asking, “How close were you two?”
Poca hesitated, her gaze dropping to her glass as she swirled the liquid inside. “We were... not too close,” she admitted slowly. “But I did grow fond of 'er. Not necessarily 'er, but... ze companionship, you know? It gets lonely, tending to a farm all alone, with no one but my puppets for company.”
Paola listened, sensing the vulnerability in Poca’s words. “I can imagine it does. I’ve felt that kind of loneliness too, especially here, in this world. It’s hard to find people you can trust, people who won’t just leave you behind.”
Poca’s smile was tinged with sadness as she nodded. “Oui, it is. But zat’s why I try to be there for people when I can. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of their shared experiences hanging in the air. Paola felt a strange sense of kinship with Poca, a connection that went beyond their current circumstances. They were both survivors, both searching for something in a world that seemed determined to tear them apart.
Poca broke the silence, her voice soft and thoughtful. “Selene... she spent a lot of time on my farm, getting better, learning to tend to ze gardens. It was nice, you know? To 'ave someone there, to share ze work, to share ze moments of peace.”
Paola nodded, understanding the longing in Poca’s voice. “And then she left.”
“Without so much as a goodbye,” Poca finished, her eyes darkening with a mix of hurt and confusion. “And then she dropped you off, and I... I didn’t know what to zink.”
Paola felt a pang of guilt at the mention of Selene. She knew she wasn’t supposed to worry about Selene taking her bag, but the truth was, it still bothered her. "I know she took my bag," Paola said, her voice tinged with frustration. "But I’m not worried. I have a familiar who’s following her. As long as I know where my familiar is, I know where Selene is. And my dimensional bag has a soul seal, which means no one can get into it as long as I’m alive."
Poca’s eyes widened in surprise, and then she laughed, a soft, melodic sound that filled the room. “You are full of surprises, Paola,” she said with a grin. “I zink I like zat.”
Paola chuckled, feeling a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with the alcohol. She had spent hours talking to Poca, and she found herself enjoying the woman’s company more than she had expected. There was something about Poca’s gentle nature, her kindness, that put Paola at ease in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.
As the night wore on, and the bottle of alcohol grew lighter, the two women grew tipsier, their conversation becoming more relaxed, more open. Paola found herself sharing stories of her time on Earth, which she used Solaria as a guise, of the life she had left behind, the people she missed. Poca listened with rapt attention, her mismatched eyes filled with curiosity and empathy.
“Zat sounds like a wonderful place,” Poca said wistfully, her accent thickening as she grew more relaxed. “I would 'ave loved to see it.”
Paola smiled, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “It was. But, I don’t think I’ll ever get back there.”
Poca reached across the table, her hand warm and comforting as she placed it on top of Paola’s. “You 'ave a new life now, here. It’s not easy, but you 'ave people who care about you, who will 'elp you. Ayla and Ta'huka, as you mentioned."
Paola looked down at Poca’s hand, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the woman’s touch. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude. “I needed to hear that.”
Poca smiled, her eyes twinkling with a warmth that made Paola’s heart ache. “And you 'ave me now, if you need a friend.”
Paola squeezed Poca’s hand, her heart swelling with emotion. “I’m glad we met, Poca. I really am.”
The conversation drifted into lighter topics as they continued to drink, their laughter filling the small room. Paola felt herself growing more and more comfortable with Poca, enjoying the easy camaraderie that had developed between them. There was something about Poca that made Paola feel safe, something that made her want to stay, to build a friendship that could last.
As the night grew late, and the alcohol began to take its toll, Poca looked at Paola with a smile. “You know,” she said, her voice slurred slightly, “I could give you a ride to Emberfall. I’m 'eading zat way anyway, and it would be nice to 'ave some company.”
Paola’s eyes widened in surprise, the offer catching her off guard. “You’d do that? Even after everything that’s happened?”
Poca nodded, her smile soft and sincere. “Oui, I would. We could look for your friends together, and you could 'elp me with Abraham. It might be nice, non?”
Paola felt a surge of gratitude, her heart warming at the thought of having someone by her side, someone she could trust. “That sounds perfect,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “I’d love that.” Not that Poca was someone she could trust, she was drunk, and that sounded like a problem for a not drunk Paola.
Poca’s smile widened, and she raised her glass one last time. “To new friends and new journeys,” she said, her voice warm and full of promise.
Paola clinked her glass against Poca’s, feeling a sense of hope that she hadn’t felt in a long time. “To new friends,” she echoed, her heart light with the possibilities that lay ahead.