The wagon creaked along the dusty road, its wheels turning slowly as Emberfall grew closer on the horizon. The air between Paola and Poca had been thick with silence for the last few hours, the weight of Paola’s revelation hanging between them like a heavy fog. Paola had been lost in her own thoughts, her mind turning over and over the strangeness of this world and its differences from Earth. She’d tried not to dwell on it, tried not to think about why Poca spoke with that oddly familiar French accent or why everyone seemed to speak English here, though they called it something else. She could feel the questions piling up in her mind, threatening to spill out all at once, but she held them back. Now didn’t feel like the right time to ask.

Instead, she found herself thinking of Ayla. It had only been a couple of days since they were separated, but it felt like an eternity. Paola missed her fiercely—their training sessions, their camaraderie, even the quiet moments of simple companionship. But she also realized how little Ayla had taught her about this world. Most of what they had focused on was fighting, leveling up, and nurturing Paola’s tree of life, whatever that was. Ayla hadn’t explained much about the broader workings of this world, and now, without her guidance, Paola felt a little lost.

She had to believe Ayla would have come to Emberfall. It made sense. If they were both looking for each other, this would be the logical place to meet up. Paola tried to hold on to that thought, tried not to let her mind wander to darker possibilities. She pushed the thoughts away, forcing herself to focus on the present. They’d be arriving in Emberfall shortly, and the plan was to find an inn and get rooms for the night—two rooms, one for her and one for Poca. Poca had insisted she would pay for it, and though Paola had protested, she eventually agreed, saying she’d make it up to Ayla once they were reunited.

Poca had broken the silence earlier to reassure her, but for the most part, they had been quiet. And Paola, trying to keep herself from spiraling into worry, was startled when Poca finally broke the silence again.

“Paola?” Poca’s voice was soft, almost tentative. She glanced over at Paola, her mismatched eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. “Zis... planet you are from. What did you say it was called again?”

Paola hesitated for a moment, the truth still raw and strange in her mouth. “Earth,” she said quietly. “I’m from Earth.”

Poca was silent for a beat, absorbing the information. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and something else—something that Paola couldn’t quite identify. “Earth,” Poca repeated, rolling the word around in her mouth as if testing it. “I ‘ave never ‘eard of zis place. You say it is not on zis world at all?”

Paola shook her head, feeling a little shy, a little ashamed for having hidden the truth from Poca for so long. “No,” she admitted. “It’s... it’s a completely different planet. I don’t even know how I got here.” She did but she didn't.

Poca furrowed her brow, her disbelief clear. “A different planet...,” she said softly. “I ‘ave known of falling stars. Zey sometimes bring rare and powerful items, but... never ‘ave I known zem to bring people.”

Paola nodded, feeling a bit of the tension lift. “That’s what Ayla said too,” she added. “She called me a Void Borne. Said I was something of a rarity...”

Poca stared at her for a moment longer, as if searching for any signs of falsehood in her face. But there was none to find. Paola could see the wheels turning in Poca’s mind, processing the weight of what Paola had just told her. It was as if a new layer of reality had been added to Poca’s understanding of the world, and she was struggling to piece it together.

Then, as if something clicked in her mind, Poca sighed and leaned back against the side of the wagon. Her fingers idly twisted a strand of her black hair as she stared out into the distance. “I... I do not know what to say, Paola,” Poca finally admitted. “I ‘ave always believed zere is more to zis world zan what we can see, but zis... zis is something else.”

Paola didn’t know how to respond. She had expected Poca to be curious, to ask more questions, but instead, Poca just seemed overwhelmed. There was no suspicion or anger—only a kind of quiet bewilderment.

Poca shifted slightly, her gaze falling to the Thunderwolf Feather she still held in her lap. She traced her fingers along the edge of the feather, her expression softening as if lost in thought. “I suppose I should not be too surprised,” she said, her voice quiet. “After all, zis feather came into my possession under strange circumstances as well.”

Paola glanced at the feather. She knew from Poca’s earlier explanation that it was a rare and powerful artifact, but she hadn’t fully understood just how important it was. Now, she could sense the gravity of it all—the importance of this feather to Poca’s life.

“My father...,” Poca continued, her voice wistful. “He gave zis feather to me long ago. It ‘as... great power. When I was younger, I ‘oped to use it one day, to create somezing extraordinary. Like Carter.” Her eyes flicked to the puppet at the front of the cart, his eerie, carved grin unmoving as always. “I did use it. And now Carter ‘as enough magic to last two lifetimes.”

Paola’s breath caught. She had known Carter was special, but she hadn’t realized he had been created from such a powerful source. “So the feather... it’s connected to Carter’s magic?” Paola asked quietly.

Poca nodded, still tracing the feather’s edge with her fingers. “Oui. Ze feather ‘as incredible energy. It can be used to create life—or at least, somezing close to it.” She paused, glancing up at Paola with a sad smile. “If Selene ‘ad asked... I would ‘ave given it to her. But to steal it after everything...” She trailed off, shaking her head in disappointment.

Paola didn’t know what to say. She could see the pain in Poca’s eyes, the sense of betrayal that lingered there. But she also saw something else—an incredible depth of kindness, of understanding. Poca wasn’t angry in the way Paola might have expected. Instead, she just seemed... tired. Tired of the deception, the conflict, the weight of it all.

“I understand why you’re hurt,” Paola said softly. “Selene shouldn’t have taken it from you. But... I think she was just desperate. Maybe she didn’t know how to ask.”

Poca nodded slowly. “Perhaps,” she admitted. “But it still does not excuse what she did.”

They fell into silence again, the soft clattering of the wagon’s wheels the only sound filling the air. As they neared the outskirts of Emberfall, Paola found herself watching Poca closely. She could see the quiet strength in the woman, the resilience that had allowed her to endure so much. And yet, there was something fragile there too—something that made Paola want to protect her, even though she knew Poca was more than capable of taking care of herself.

The houses and buildings of Emberfall came into view, their warm, sunlit facades a stark contrast to the vast wilderness they had just passed through. The closer they came to the town, the more Paola felt a sense of relief washing over her. Soon, they would be in a place where they could rest, where they could hopefully find Ayla and put some of these burdens to rest.

Poca broke the silence again, her voice lighter this time. “Paola,” she said, glancing over with a playful smile. “Are you a fighter?”

Paola nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Yeah,” she admitted. “A pretty incredible one, actually.”

Poca chuckled, shaking her head. “Incredible, eh?” She shot Paola a teasing look. “Not so incredible zat you didn’t end up dying.”

For a moment, Paola was stunned into silence, but then she burst out laughing. Poca joined in, and the tension that had been hanging over them seemed to dissipate with their laughter. It was a genuine moment of lightness, and Paola was grateful for it.

Their laughter eventually died down, but the warmth between them remained. Paola glanced over at Poca, her heart full of gratitude. Poca had taken everything in stride—the secrets, the betrayals, the magic—and still, she had remained kind, still trusted her. Paola couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of respect for her.

“Thank you,” Paola said quietly, her voice sincere.

Poca looked at her, her mismatched eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “For what?” she asked.

“For trusting me,” Paola replied. “Even after everything.”

Poca’s smile softened, and she reached out to gently pat Paola’s hand. “Of course, Paola. We are in zis together now, oui? No more secrets, no more hiding. We ‘ave each other’s backs.”

As the wagon creaked along the path, Emberfall growing closer in the distance, Poca and Paola sat in silence once more, though it felt different now—heavier, somehow. Poca’s reassurance, the quiet promise that they had each other's backs, had left a warmth in Paola’s chest, but it hadn’t erased the tension in the air. Paola could feel Poca’s eyes occasionally flicking toward her, as if trying to find the right words. She herself felt like she was standing on the edge of something uncertain, something that could change the course of their fragile bond.

After what seemed like an eternity, Poca finally broke the silence again, her voice soft and pensive. “I ‘ave ‘eard of ze Void Borne before, you know,” she said, her accent lilting delicately over the words. “But only in legends, stories my father used to tell me when I was a little girl.”

Paola turned to face her, intrigued by the shift in tone. “Legends?” she asked, a small smile playing at her lips, though there was a nervous energy to it. “What kind of legends?”

Poca hesitated for a moment, her eyes drifting to the horizon as she gathered her thoughts. “Ze kinds zat never end well,” she admitted quietly, her gaze distant. “Ze Void Borne... zey are rare, yes, but powerful. And with zat power... comes great danger. My father, ‘e would tell me stories of falling stars who rose to greatness, only to fall into darkness, consumed by ze very power zey sought to control.”

Paola listened carefully, the weight of those words settling heavily on her chest. She tried to remain unbothered, flashing a confident smile. “This time will be different,” she said, more to reassure herself than anything else. “I mean... sure, I already died once, but... I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Poca chuckled softly, though the sound was tinged with melancholy. “Oui,” she agreed, her smile faint. “You are still ‘ere.”

A brief silence fell between them again, but Paola’s curiosity had been piqued. She glanced at Poca, sensing something deeper behind the mention of her father. The woman had always seemed so cheerful, so carefree, but now Paola could see a shadow lurking behind those bright eyes.

“What... what was your father like?” Paola asked tentatively, unsure if she was prying too much.

Poca gave her a sad smile, her gaze softening as she looked down at her hands. “He was... extraordinary,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “A master of puppets. ‘E could bring anything to life wiz ‘is creations. ‘E ran ze local theater in Valarian, you know. Ze whole show was run by puppets—none of zem real, not like Carter. But ‘e made zem move, made zem sing, made zem dance... and made so much money doing it.”

Paola raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had expected something more humble, but the image of Poca’s father as a grand puppeteer, orchestrating elaborate shows in Valarian, was something else entirely.

“Wow,” Paola said softly. “He sounds... impressive.”

Poca nodded, her smile wistful. “Oui, ‘e was,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper now. “But zen... once I was born... zat was when everything changed.”

Paola’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Is your father still around?”

Poca’s smile faltered slightly, and she looked away, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the Thunderwolf Feather in her lap. “Do you know who my father was?” she asked, her voice tentative.

Paola shook her head, her confusion deepening. “No,” she admitted. “Should I?”

Poca hesitated for a long moment, as if weighing the decision to share this part of her life. Finally, she sighed and looked up at Paola with a sad, almost apologetic expression. “My father was Geppetto,” she said quietly.

The name sent a jolt of recognition through Paola, and for a moment, her mind raced, making small connections. Geppetto... it was a name she knew from Earth, from the stories of Pinocchio. The name alone conjured up images of wooden puppets brought to life, of a kindly old man with a heart full of love for his creations. But here? In this world? Could it really be the same?

Paola raised her eyebrows in surprise, but Poca took it as a sign of recognition. “You know now, oui?” Poca asked, her voice soft but expectant.

Paola felt her heart race as she nodded slowly, though not for the reason Poca might have expected. She couldn’t shake the bizarre feeling that somehow, the stories she had grown up with on Earth were bleeding into this strange new world. “I think I do,” Paola said cautiously, though she wasn’t entirely sure if she truly understood.

Poca seemed to take comfort in her response, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. She continued, her voice growing more wistful as she spoke. “My father... ‘e was a master of puppets, like none before ‘im. ‘E brought life into ze inanimate, gave movement and purpose to ze wood and strings. ‘E ran ze most successful theater in Valarian. But after I was born... everything changed.”

Paola listened closely, her mind racing as she tried to piece together what Poca was saying. “What happened after you were born?” she asked gently.

Poca’s smile faded completely now, her eyes growing distant as she stared into the horizon. “It was... different,” she said quietly. “Zat was when ‘e left. I never knew why at ze time, but... later, I learned ze truth.”

Paola’s heart clenched at the sorrow in Poca’s voice. She wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but she held back, unsure of how to approach the subject. “What... what truth?” she asked softly.

Poca hesitated again, her voice growing quieter, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “My father... ‘e created life,” she said, her words barely a whisper. “Real life. But it cost ‘im... everything.”

Paola froze, her mind reeling. She didn’t fully understand what Poca was saying, but the gravity of her words was clear. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “He created... you?”

Poca nodded, her expression haunted. “Oui,” she whispered. “I am... ze only living puppet to ever exist. My father... ‘e gave me life. But it drove ‘im mad. He started using people in ‘is experiments, trying to perfect ‘is craft. Trying to create more... like me.”

Paola felt a chill run down her spine. She had heard stories of mad inventors, of experiments gone wrong, but this... this was something else entirely. She didn’t know what to say, her mind struggling to comprehend the weight of what Poca was telling her.

Poca continued, her voice trembling now. “Ze madness took ‘im, Paola,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I try not to remember ‘im like zat... after ze madness. I prefer to remember ‘im as ze man who loved ‘is creations, who loved me. But... sometimes, it’s ‘ard.”

Paola’s heart ached for her. She could see the pain etched into Poca’s face, the weight of carrying such a heavy burden for so long. “I’m so sorry,” Paola said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “He sounds like he was a good man, at least before... before everything.”

Poca nodded, though her expression remained sorrowful. “Oui,” she whispered. “Zat’s ‘ow I remember ‘im. But... it ‘urts to think zat ‘is greatest creation... was also ‘is undoing.”

Paola felt a lump form in her throat as she watched the tears begin to fall down Poca’s cheeks. The usually joyful woman looked so small, so vulnerable in that moment, and Paola felt an overwhelming urge to comfort her. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out and placed a gentle hand on Poca’s arm, silently asking if she wanted a hug.

To her surprise, Poca didn’t hesitate. She melted into Paola’s arms, her body trembling as she buried her face in Paola’s neck. Her arms wrapped tightly around Paola, clinging to her as if she were a lifeline in a storm.

Paola held her, her own emotions swirling in a mix of sadness and empathy. She could feel the weight of Poca’s grief, the years of pain and loneliness that had been hidden beneath that bright, joyful exterior. Poca’s shoulders heaved with silent sobs, her tears soaking into Paola’s cloak, but Paola didn’t mind. She tightened her hold, offering what little comfort she could.

The two women sat there in the back of the wagon, wrapped in each other’s arms as the world continued on around them. The sounds of the wagon’s wheels and the soft breeze through the trees faded into the background, leaving only the quiet, shared moment between them. Paola could feel the warmth of Poca’s body against hers, the softness of her dress, and the way her curvier form pressed into Paola’s.

It felt... right, somehow. Like this was exactly what Poca needed. The woman had carried so much for so long, and now, finally, she was allowing herself

to let go. To release the pain she had been holding inside.

Paola didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She just held Poca, offering her the warmth and affection she so desperately needed. And in that moment, Paola realized that maybe, just maybe, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

The embrace lasted for what felt like an eternity, though Paola had no desire to let go. She could feel Poca’s breathing begin to slow, her sobs quieting as the tears finally stopped. Slowly, Poca pulled back, her eyes red and puffy, but there was a softness to her gaze now—a look of gratitude and relief.

“Merci,” Poca whispered, her voice barely audible.

Paola smiled softly, brushing a stray tear from Poca’s cheek. “Anytime,” she said gently.

They sat there in silence for a while longer, the weight of their shared pain easing just a little. And as Emberfall drew closer on the horizon, Paola knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

Paola’s arms remained gently wrapped around Poca, her embrace offering solace as Poca lingered longer than expected. The quiet hum of the wagon’s movement, the soft creak of wood, and the occasional breeze whispered through the air. Poca’s face rested against Paola’s neck, her breath warm and calming. There was no need to rush; the world outside the small space they shared seemed distant, unimportant. Paola’s hand gently rubbed Poca’s back, a comforting rhythm, as they both savored the quiet moment between them.

Poca pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at Paola, their faces close—closer than either had anticipated. Poca’s mismatched eyes, one green and one purple, shimmered with the remnants of her tears, but there was something else there too, something softer, something Paola couldn’t quite name. Paola’s breath caught for a moment as their gazes locked. She felt a warmth, a subtle current between them, something that lingered like a whisper, unspoken but undeniably present.

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“Merci, Paola,” Poca said again, her voice hushed, as though anything louder might shatter the fragile intimacy between them.

Paola offered a small smile, her hand still resting on Poca’s back, reluctant to let go. “Anytime, Poca. Like you said, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

Poca’s smile widened, though there was a hint of playfulness in her gaze now. “I know zat,” she replied, her tone a bit lighter. She tilted her head slightly, her soft lips dangerously close to Paola’s cheek. “But I ‘ave to admit, zat ‘ug felt pretty good.”

Paola chuckled, feeling a subtle flush creep up her neck. “Well, don’t get used to it,” she teased, though her voice carried more warmth than her words intended. “I’m not always this soft.”

Poca raised an eyebrow, her expression teasing. “Oh? And ‘ere I was zinking you were quite ze cuddler.”

Paola laughed softly, feeling the tension between them shift from something deep and emotional to something light and teasing. There was a gentle electricity in the air, like a playful dance of connection they were only just beginning to explore. It wasn’t overt, nothing that could be easily defined, but it was there, lingering between them like a spark waiting to catch fire.

Poca lingered just a bit longer before finally pulling back fully, though her hand brushed against Paola’s as she moved away. The touch was fleeting but deliberate, leaving Paola with a strange sense of anticipation, like she had just caught a glimpse of something wonderful but wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

As they settled back into their seats in the wagon, the town of Emberfall grew ever closer. Carter, with his ever-present grin, continued leading the oxen steadily down the path. The buildings on the outskirts of the town began to come into focus—modest homes made of adobe and stone, with lush greenery starting to replace the arid sands of the Seracian desert. The people going about their daily routines were a mix of desert dwellers and coastal folk, the blend of cultures palpable even from a distance.

Paola noticed that the closer they got, the more heads seemed to turn in their direction, but she soon realized it wasn’t because of her or Poca. It was Carter, with his unnervingly lifelike wooden frame and that eerie, oversized smile. He was drawing curious glances from the townsfolk, who weren’t used to seeing such a strange figure steering a cart. Paola couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of Carter attracting so much attention—here they were, two women who had been through hell and back, and yet it was the puppet who seemed to be the center of attention.

“I zink Carter is making quite ze impression,” Poca remarked with a sly grin, clearly noticing the stares as well.

Paola nodded, her smirk widening. “Yeah, I’m not sure if they’re impressed or freaked out. Maybe a little bit of both.”

Poca laughed softly, a sound that seemed to lift the weight that had been hanging over them for hours. “Carter ‘as zat effect on people,” she said fondly, glancing at the puppet with a hint of pride. “’E likes ze attention, I zink.”

Paola raised an eyebrow. “He likes the attention? Are you sure? He’s never said a word.”

Poca winked, a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, Carter loves ze attention, believe me. I mean, look at zat smile! Zey are drawn to it like moths to a flame. Carter cannot get enough of ze adoration, trust me. Right, Carter?”

At the mention of his name, Carter turned his head to glance at the two women, his carved grin still firmly in place. If he was bothered by the attention, he didn't show it, or didn't not show it either, and he quickly returned his focus to the road ahead.

Poca shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. Paola chuckled along, feeling the lightness return to the conversation. It was a welcome change after the emotional turbulence of the past few hours. She glanced over at Poca, who was smiling now, genuinely smiling, and she felt a sense of relief wash over her. They had been through a lot, but maybe, just maybe, things were starting to turn around.

Abraham, who had been sitting quietly beside them, suddenly piped up, his voice timid but filled with curiosity. “Poca?” he asked, glancing shyly between her and Carter. “Are... are you really a puppet?”

Poca turned to him, her smile softening as she regarded the boy with kindness. “Oui, little one,” she replied gently. “I am a puppet, but I am also alive, just like you.”

Abraham’s eyes widened with wonder, his small hands fidgeting with the edges of his shirt as he processed the information. “But... how? I mean, how do you... how do you move? And... and talk?”

Poca smiled warmly, clearly charmed by the boy’s innocence. “Zat is ze magic of my father,” she explained softly. “’E gave me life, just as ‘e gave life to Carter. But I am... different. I ‘ave feelings, thoughts, just like any living person. It’s ‘ard to explain, but... I am alive.”

Abraham nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to make sense of it all. “That’s... that’s amazing,” he said quietly, a touch of awe in his voice. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

Poca’s smile brightened, and she reached out to gently ruffle Abraham’s hair. “You are sweet, Abraham,” she said kindly. “Zere are not many like me. But zat’s what makes life interesting, non? We are all unique in our own way.”

Paola watched the interaction with a soft smile, her heart warming at the sight. Abraham had been so quiet, so reserved, ever since they had started this journey, and seeing him open up, even just a little, was a good sign. Maybe they were all starting to heal, in their own ways.

As they neared the center of Emberfall, the town’s bustling marketplace came into view. Merchants called out to passersby, their stalls filled with goods from both the Seracian Sands and the Tarnstead coast. The air was filled with the scents of spices, freshly baked bread, and roasting meat, a welcome change from the dry desert winds they had left behind. The town itself had a peaceful yet lively energy, and for the first time in days, Paola felt a sense of normalcy returning to her life.

“Well, we’re ‘ere,” Poca said, her voice laced with a mixture of relief and anticipation. “I zink we could use a drink, non?”

Paola grinned. “I’m not going to argue with that.”

They guided the wagon through the busy streets, drawing more curious glances as Carter continued his eerie yet efficient steering of the oxen. Eventually, they found a quiet corner near one of the larger inns, a modest establishment with a sign that read “The Ember Forge Tavern.” It seemed cozy, warm, and inviting—the perfect place to unwind after everything they had been through.

As they pulled up to the inn, Paola and Poca hopped off the wagon, and Paola stretched, feeling the tension in her muscles ease slightly. Poca turned to Carter, giving him a small nod, as if thanking him for his efforts. Carter remained still, his wooden smile unchanged, but there was a subtle shift in his posture that suggested he had understood.

Abraham climbed down from the wagon as well, sticking close to Paola as they made their way toward the entrance of the tavern. Paola glanced at Poca, who was watching the townsfolk with a soft smile, clearly amused by their reactions to Carter.

“You think they’re ever going to get used to him?” Paola asked, her tone light.

Poca laughed softly. “Probably not,” she replied with a wink. “But zat’s part of ze fun, non?”

Paola couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of camaraderie with Poca that hadn’t been there before. There was still a lot they didn’t know about each other, still so many questions left unanswered, but for now, they were on the same page. And that was enough.

They stepped into the tavern, the warm glow of lanterns and the crackling of a large hearth immediately welcoming them inside. The scent of roasted meat and ale filled the air, and the sound of laughter and conversation created a lively yet comforting atmosphere. Paola felt a wave of relief wash over her as she realized that, for the first time in what felt like forever, they were in a place where they could relax.

They found a table in a quiet corner of the tavern, and Paola ordered a round of drinks for the three of them. As they waited for their drinks to arrive, Poca glanced at Paola with a small smile.

“You know,” she said softly, “I’m glad we met. Even if zis journey ‘as been... strange.”

Paola returned the smile, her eyes warm. “I’m glad too, Poca. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

Poca chuckled. "Oh, I am sure you would 'ave managed just fine," she said playfully. "After all, you are a fighter, non?"

Paola shook her head. "Didn't you say I was 'not so incredible' that I didn't end up dying?" she teased.

Poca burst out laughing, and the sound was like music to Paola's ears. "Oh, mon dieu, you are going to bring that up every chance you get, aren't you?"

Paola smirked. As they settled into the cozy corner of the Ember Forge Tavern, Paola, Poca, and Abraham found themselves enveloped in the warm, lively atmosphere. The clatter of mugs, the hum of conversation, and the crackling of the large hearth created a sense of comfort that was much needed after their long and tumultuous journey. The tavern was bustling with patrons, but their corner felt private enough for them to relax and enjoy the evening.

Paola waved down the barmaid and ordered a round of drinks. For herself and Poca, she requested two mugs of the house ale, while for Abraham, she ordered a sweet, freshly pressed juice made from local fruits. The boy's eyes lit up at the prospect of something sweet, and Paola smiled, glad to see him looking a little more cheerful.

As they waited for their drinks, Poca leaned in slightly, her mismatched eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, Paola, zis place feels... cozy, no?”

Paola nodded, glancing around the room. “Yeah, it does. After everything, it’s nice to just... sit and breathe.”

The barmaid returned with their drinks, setting the mugs and juice down with a friendly smile. “Anything to eat?” she asked, looking between them.

Paola thought for a moment, then turned to Poca. “What do you think? Want to share something?”

Poca grinned. “Oui, zat sounds perfect. Something big enough for all of us.”

The barmaid nodded and recommended a local favorite, the “Leviathan’s Feast,” a large shareable dish that featured an assortment of meats, roasted vegetables, and a rich, spiced gravy served with warm flatbreads on the side. Paola’s mouth watered at the description, and she quickly agreed, ordering the dish for the table.

When the food arrived, it was an impressive sight. The platter was heaped with perfectly roasted meats—tender slices of beef, succulent chicken, and savory sausages—nestled among a variety of vegetables, all drenched in a fragrant gravy that made the entire dish look irresistible. The warm flatbreads were placed on a separate plate, ready to be used to scoop up the delicious mixture.

“Wow,” Paola said, her eyes wide as she took in the feast before them. “This looks amazing.”

Poca nodded eagerly, her hands already reaching for a piece of flatbread. “Zey certainly know ‘ow to cook ‘ere.”

Abraham, who had been quietly sipping his juice, looked at the platter with wide eyes. “Is it... really okay for me to eat too?” he asked, his voice small.

Paola smiled warmly at him. “Of course, Abraham. This is for all of us. Dig in.”

The three of them shared the meal, the rich flavors of the Leviathan’s Feast filling them with warmth and satisfaction. Paola and Poca exchanged smiles as they passed pieces of meat and vegetables between them, while Abraham carefully made small sandwiches with the flatbread, clearly enjoying the experience.

As they ate, Paola noticed how the tension that had been present since Selene’s sudden reappearance seemed to melt away. The food, the drinks, and the simple act of sharing a meal brought them all closer together, and for a little while, the worries of the world outside the tavern faded into the background.

Eventually, after they had eaten their fill, Abraham began to yawn, his small body leaning against Paola as his eyelids drooped. Paola chuckled softly and looked at Poca. “I think it’s time we get a room. He’s about to fall asleep on the table.”

Poca smiled and nodded. “Oui, it ‘as been a long day. Let’s get ‘im settled in.”

They paid for the meal and drinks, and Poca took the lead in arranging for a room at the inn connected to the tavern. The innkeeper, a burly man with a kind smile, led them upstairs to a cozy room with two beds. Paola helped Abraham climb into one of the beds, tucking him in gently as he mumbled a tired “thank you” before drifting off to sleep almost instantly.

Paola turned to Poca, who was standing by the door, looking a bit hesitant. “He’s out like a light,” Paola whispered, smiling softly at the boy’s peaceful expression.

Poca nodded, then gave Paola a small, almost sheepish smile. “Would you... like to ‘ave one more drink wiz me?” she asked, her voice quiet.

Paola raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling into a teasing grin. “Last time we had a drink together, we ended up naked. Should we really risk that again?”

Poca’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and she put on an exaggerated pout. “Oh, zat’s such a shame, Paola. I was ‘oping we could ‘ave a repeat performance.”

Paola couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “No promises, huh?”

Poca grinned and shrugged, her playful demeanor returning. “Non, I cannot promise zat. But,” she added, leaning in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, “if it makes you feel better, I’ll try to behave.”

Paola chuckled, feeling a light, pleasant buzz from the ale and the warmth of the room. “Alright, alright. One more drink. But we’re keeping our clothes on this time.”

Poca mock-sighed, as if disappointed. “If you insist. But I ‘ave to admit, I’m getting used to ze idea of you running around naked.”

Paola blushed slightly but laughed along with her. “Honestly? I kind of liked it. I’ve gotten used to it, running around without any clothes. It felt... freeing, I guess.”

Poca’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached her mismatched eyes. “Zere’s somezing about zis world, isn’t zere? It makes us realize zings about ourselves zat we never knew.”

Paola nodded, feeling the truth in Poca’s words. “Yeah. I never thought I’d be okay with it, but after everything... I guess I just don’t care as much anymore. It’s like all the old rules don’t apply here.”

They made their way back downstairs, returning to the tavern’s lively atmosphere. This time, they found seats at the bar, where the bartender greeted them with a nod. Paola ordered two more ales, and they clinked their mugs together before taking a long, satisfying sip.

As they drank, they continued to chat, the conversation flowing easily between them. The earlier tension and sadness had lifted, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. There was still that barely-there tension, a quiet undercurrent of something more between them, but neither of them felt the need to push it. For now, the simple pleasure of each other’s company was enough.

“Paola,” Poca said softly after a moment, her gaze fixed on her mug, “I just want to say... merci, again. For being zere for me earlier. It meant a lot, to be able to share my story wiz you. I... I don't usually talk about it, you know."

Paola offered a gentle smile, feeling a warmth spread through her at the words. "Nor do I share mine, but... you helped me with the ghosts of my past. I think, after everything, I needed that as much as you did."

Poca met her gaze, her own eyes filled with understanding. "We both 'ad our share of pain to work through, didn't we?"

Paola nodded, feeling the familiar ache in her heart ease a little more. "We did. And we're still dealing with it. But we're getting there. We're surviving, one step at a time."

They finished their drinks, the warm glow of the tavern and the pleasant buzz from the ale filling them with a sense of contentment. Paola stood, the ale having worked its magic on her, and offered a hand to Poca.

"Let's get some rest," Paola said, smiling softly. "We have a lot more to do tomorrow."

Poca returned the smile and took her hand, letting Paola help her to her feet. The two women made their way back upstairs, their footsteps light as they headed for their room. As they reached the small, dimly lit room, the flickering light from the single candle cast soft shadows against the walls. The old wooden beams creaked under their weight as they stepped inside, their drunken laughter quieting into a comfortable silence. Abraham was already sound asleep in the other bed, his small form curled up under the blankets, his breathing slow and steady.

Paola and Poca stood there for a moment, looking at the single bed left for them. Paola could feel her heart beating faster, a subtle tension lingering in the air that she couldn’t quite shake. Her body hummed with the remnants of alcohol, and the night’s playful banter had left her feeling more alive than she had in days. She glanced over at Poca, who stood next to her with that usual soft, innocent smile.

"Looks like we ‘ave to share ze bed," Poca said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. She didn’t seem to sense the shift in the air, the underlying pull that Paola was feeling. She was so innocent in her obliviousness, her green and purple eyes sparkling with the warmth of the night.

Paola swallowed hard, her gaze dropping briefly to the thin cloak she was wearing. It was all she had on, the fabric falling loosely around her petite frame, barely covering her body. She had gotten used to being naked—too used to it, in fact—but now, standing here in this room with Poca, it felt different. The cloak clung to her skin, and beneath it, she felt exposed in more ways than one.

"Yeah, looks like," Paola replied, her voice softer than she intended.

Poca, blissfully unaware of the tension, began to undress without a second thought. She pulled her simple dress over her head and let it fall to the floor, standing there in nothing but her bare skin. Her curvier form was full and soft, the gentle curves of her body catching the faint candlelight as she moved. There was no shame or hesitation in her actions—just the same openness and innocence she always had.

Paola’s breath hitched as she tried to look away, but her eyes lingered for just a moment too long on Poca’s figure. She felt a knot of guilt tightening in her stomach, knowing that she shouldn’t be looking at her like this—not with Ayla still out there somewhere, not with everything that had happened. But the pull was undeniable, that forbidden sense of something more lurking just beneath the surface.

Poca climbed into bed, completely unaware of the effect she was having on Paola. She smiled up at her, patting the space beside her. "Come on, Paola. You must be cold. Ze bed is warm."

Paola hesitated, her mind racing. The logical part of her screamed that this was a bad idea, that she needed to keep her distance. But the other part—the part that had felt the warmth of Poca’s embrace earlier, the part that was drawn to her kind, gentle nature—wanted to give in, just for tonight.

She took a deep breath and let the cloak slip from her shoulders, revealing her petite, toned body underneath. Her bare skin prickled with the cool air as she quickly slid into bed beside Poca, trying to put some space between them but finding it harder than she expected. The bed was small, and despite her best efforts, she could feel the soft press of Poca’s body against her own. The contrast between her own smaller, leaner frame and Poca’s more curvaceous form was undeniable.

Poca, still seemingly oblivious, shifted closer, her arm brushing against Paola’s side as she adjusted herself under the covers. "Mmm, zis is nice," she murmured sleepily, her voice soft and content. She turned onto her side, facing Paola, and smiled, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. "I’m glad we ‘ad zis night."

Paola’s pulse quickened as she lay there, trying to focus on anything other than the way Poca’s skin felt against hers, the soft warmth of her body so close. She could feel her heart racing, guilt swirling in her chest as she reminded herself of Ayla, of how wrong this was. But at the same time, she couldn’t ignore the pull—the undeniable attraction she felt toward Poca, even if it was buried under layers of confusion and guilt.

"I... I’m glad too," Paola whispered, her voice barely audible. She tried to keep her breathing steady, but every small movement Poca made seemed to make it harder. Every brush of skin, every slight shift under the blankets—it all sent a jolt of awareness through her.

Poca, still innocent in her obliviousness, sighed softly and rested her head on Paola’s shoulder, her breath warm against Paola’s neck. "You are a good friend, Paola," she said, her voice filled with that same gentle warmth. "I’m ‘appy we ‘ave each other’s backs."

Paola’s throat tightened as she fought back the conflicting emotions that raged inside her. She wanted to be a good friend, to protect Poca, to keep the promise she had made to Ayla. But the way Poca’s body pressed against hers, the way her words held a sweetness that tugged at Paola’s heart... it was all too much.

She wrapped an arm around Poca, pulling her a little closer, even as the guilt gnawed at her. "Yeah," Paola said softly, her voice shaky. "We do."

For a moment, they lay there in silence, the weight of the day catching up with them. Paola closed her eyes, trying to push away the thoughts swirling in her mind, but they wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t stop thinking about how close they were, how easy it would be to let herself give in to the attraction that was simmering just beneath the surface. But she couldn’t do that—not to Ayla, not to herself.

Poca shifted slightly in her sleep, her arm draping over Paola’s waist. The touch sent a jolt through Paola’s body, and she bit her lip, trying to steady herself. The pull was there, undeniable, but she had to resist. She had to.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax as she lay there, Poca’s body pressed against hers. The tension was still there, but she knew she couldn’t let it take over. She had made a promise—to Ayla, to herself—and she would keep it, no matter how strong the pull might be.

As the night wore on, the alcohol and exhaustion finally began to take their toll. Paola’s thoughts grew hazy, the tension slowly melting away as sleep crept in. She held Poca close, her mind still filled with conflicting emotions, but for now, she would let herself rest. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new decisions, but for tonight, she would simply hold onto the warmth of the moment, even if it was tinged with guilt.

Eventually, sleep claimed them both, leaving the tension unspoken, the pull unresolved. And in the quiet of the night, Paola knew that this was only the beginning of something she couldn’t yet understand.

***

If Paola had been paying attention to more than just Poca—more than the warmth of the woman beside her, more than the tangled knot of guilt and desire she was trying so hard to unravel—she might have noticed the flicker of movement in the shadows of the tavern. She might have seen the gleam of red and blue eyes watching her, silently, from the corner of the room as she and Poca had stumbled up the stairs in their drunken haze.

Ayla stood at the foot of those same stairs, her hands clenched tightly by her sides. Her mismatched eyes glimmered with a complex storm of emotions, swirling and unreadable in the dim light. She hadn't seen much—just a glimpse of the two women laughing together, Paola's arm wrapped around Poca's waist for support, their bodies pressed a little too close as they made their way to the room upstairs. It wasn't enough to make her feel hurt, or even jealous, but it was enough to stir something deep inside her.

She wasn't sad, not in the way she might have expected. If anything, Ayla was relieved, even happy. Paola was alive. That was the one truth that cut through everything else. After days of searching, of not knowing if she had survived the Beaststorm or the dangers that followed, here she was. Alive. Laughing. Breathing. She hadn't been sure she'd ever get to see that smile again, hadn't dared to hope. And yet, there it was.

But behind the relief, there was so much more. Ayla's chest tightened with the weight of it all—the questions, the uncertainties. She didn't know what to make of what she had seen. Paola and Poca had seemed close, yes, but Ayla couldn't shake the confusion swirling in her mind. She had expected to find Paola alone or with another party member, but there was something about the way Paola held Poca, the way they leaned into each other, that made her pause.

Ayla exhaled softly, leaning against the wall, trying to calm the emotions roiling inside her. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, didn't want to assume the worst. After everything, she trusted Paola. She trusted her with her life. But trust didn’t stop the flood of feelings that washed over her—confusion, relief, uncertainty, and something that felt unsettlingly like longing.

She shook her head and sighed, her breath coming out in a tired exhale. There would be time to talk—time to sort through all of this. Right now, she needed to rest, needed to gather herself before she confronted Paola with everything that had happened. Her girlfriend was alive, and that was the one truth she would cling to for the moment. The rest could wait.

With one last lingering glance up the stairs, Ayla turned and quietly slipped away, disappearing into the shadows of Emberfall's streets. For now, she would wait. She would let Paola have her moment of peace, her moment of laughter, even if it left Ayla with a hollow ache in her chest.

But tomorrow, everything would change.

And Ayla knew, deep down, that the conversation they were about to have would be one that would alter everything.