Paola lay on the bed, her body sinking into the soft sheets, but the comfort of the bed felt distant, as though it were miles away from the thoughts that crowded her mind. She stared up at the ceiling, her deep brown hair fanning out in messy waves over the pillow. Her arms were folded behind her head, framing her face, and her naked skin glistened faintly in the fading light of the evening. Oso, her ever-loyal companion, lay curled up in the corner, his heavy snores the only sound in the quiet room.
She had quickly learned to tuck her slippers away after the fight. The pink, fluffy bunny slippers weren’t just shoes—they were a symbol, a statement in a world of harsh iron and ancient magic. And in that last fight, they'd become more than just a symbol; they'd become part of her identity. People noticed them, and in a world where unique meant dangerous, she knew she needed to be cautious. As quickly as she could summon them and slip into their familiar comfort, she had mastered the art of slipping them away again, hiding their otherworldly nature from curious eyes.
The aftermath of the battle still weighed heavily on her. The destruction, the bloodshed—it all replayed in her mind over and over again. Two businesses had been destroyed during the chaos, the town square’s ancient fountain reduced to rubble. The townspeople had cried out over its loss, claiming it had stood for centuries, but Paola couldn’t bring herself to care about its supposed antiquity. In the end, it was just more rubble, more dust among the ashes of the lives that had been lost.
The town’s guard had been shockingly organized in the aftermath, pulling her and the others into an investigation that lasted for days. She hadn’t expected it. In a world that felt medieval, she had assumed the investigation would be crude, disorganized, full of pointed fingers and misunderstandings. But no—magic had made everything more streamlined. The investigation had been efficient and brutal in its precision.
The adventurers who had been killed before they even arrived in the square had been recognized as victims, and the town’s guilds eventually praised Paola, Ayla, and their companions as heroes for stepping in. But the hollow feeling in Paola’s chest didn’t go away.
Heroes? She didn’t feel like a hero. She felt like a survivor. The distinction made her stomach churn.
Paola ran her hand over her bare stomach, her fingers tracing the faint lines of scars she didn’t even remember getting. Her muscles ached, her bones creaked with fatigue, but none of it compared to the exhaustion of her mind. She had spent countless hours being questioned, scrutinized, pushed to recount the battle again and again. They had tried to make sense of the chaos, but no one could. Even as the investigators declared them heroes, she could feel the weight of the real truth pressing down on her.
What had happened in that square was pure, senseless violence. Blood had soaked the cobblestones, and the air had been filled with the screams of the dying. The town square, once vibrant with life, was now a monument to death. The smell of blood, burning flesh, and ozone still lingered in her nostrils, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ta’huka’s lifeless gaze staring back at her. His eyes had lost their rage in the final moments, replaced with something else… something almost sad. She couldn’t shake that image, even as she tried to push it from her mind.
"You're a monster."
The words of the first man she had killed echoed in her mind. That had been a long time ago, back when she was still grappling with her own identity, before she understood the chaos within her. Back when the word monster had felt like a slap in the face, a label she could reject. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she was a monster, after all. Maybe that man had seen the truth before she ever had. She could still feel the chaos inside her, the gnawing hunger for violence that had erupted in that fight. It frightened her, even as she felt its pull.
Was this her destiny? To be hunted, to fight, to kill? She had once believed she could find peace, that she could escape the cycle of violence that seemed to follow her like a shadow. But now… now she wasn’t so sure. The peace she longed for seemed more distant than ever, a dream fading further into the horizon with every battle.
She let out a slow breath, her body tense even as she lay still. The investigation had cleared them, but it hadn’t cleared the turmoil inside her. The town might see them as heroes, but Paola felt nothing but a hollow ache in her chest, as if something vital had been torn away during that fight. She had survived, yes—but at what cost? Her spirit felt battered, worn thin by the violence she had been forced to endure. She wondered if this was what her life would always be: a series of battles, each one tearing away more of her soul until there was nothing left but the monster she feared she had become.
A soft knock on the door broke the silence. Paola didn’t even turn her head. She lay still, her eyes focused on the cracks in the ceiling above her, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the only indication that she was alive. She didn’t expect anyone to visit. Why would they? She had made herself scarce since the investigation had ended, spending most of her time in this room, trying to make sense of her own mind. She had nothing left to give, not to Ayla, not to Poca, not even to herself.
The knock came again, a bit more insistent this time. Oso stirred from his corner, his massive head lifting to peer at the door, but he made no move to rise. Paola sighed and finally turned her head, her gaze landing on the wooden door that seemed so far away.
“Who is it?” she called out, her voice quiet, drained of energy.
There was a pause before the voice answered. It was soft, feminine, and familiar.
“Paola… it’s me.”
Poca.
Paola’s heart twisted in her chest. She hadn’t seen much of Poca since the fight. The small healer had been working tirelessly to keep them all alive during the battle, weaving her magic through every wound, every shattered bone, every breathless gasp. Poca had been the reason Paola and the others had survived, and Paola had spent so many sleepless nights wondering if Poca was okay. The healer had given so much of herself that day, and Paola knew it had taken a toll.
There was a hesitation in Poca’s voice, a nervousness that hadn’t been there before. Paola took a deep breath and slowly sat up, pulling the tattered remains of her cloak around her shoulders. She felt exposed, vulnerable, even though there was nothing left to hide.
“Come in,” she said quietly.
The door creaked open, and Poca stepped into the door frame. She looked worn, her eyes rimmed with dark circles, her usually vibrant demeanor muted by exhaustion. She was still wearing that same potato sack dress, though it clung a bit more loosely to her thin frame now. Her bare feet padded softly across the floor as she approached, and Paola could see the weight of the past few days etched into every step.
Poca didn’t say anything at first. She just stood there, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides, her eyes scanning Paola’s face as if searching for something. Paola held her gaze for a moment before looking away, unable to meet the healer’s eyes. The silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken words and shared pain.
“I… I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Poca finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Paola nodded, though she wasn’t sure if she could honestly say she was okay. But what else was there to say?
Paola sat up straighter on the bed, her knees drawn to her chest, her tattered cloak loosely hanging from her shoulders. The room still smelled faintly of sweat and smoke, a reminder of the battle they had survived, but that was distant now. All of that felt distant now. Poca stood by the door for a moment longer before quietly crossing the room and sitting down beside Paola on the bed. Paola didn’t say anything at first, just keeping her eyes fixed on a crack in the wall, but she could feel the warmth of Poca’s presence next to her, and that gentle, ever-present energy that seemed to radiate from her.
Poca shifted slightly, the bed creaking beneath her small frame. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, and as she tilted her head toward Paola, those stitches that framed her face—stretching from the corners of her lips to her ears—caught the dim light, almost giving her a permanent, eerie smile. But there was nothing eerie about Poca’s demeanor. Despite the horrors they had seen, despite the tiredness that etched into her delicate features, she was still Poca, so full of life and light.
“Paola,” she said softly, her voice carrying that same lilting accent that always made her words sound softer, almost melodic. “You 'ave been here too long, mon amie. You should be out, non? Ze investigation, it is over. Zey will be giving us all a reward, even.”
Paola’s eyes flickered over to Poca. The healer’s words felt distant at first, but they slowly began to settle into her mind. The investigation was over. Rewards. Heroes, they were being called. The words didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real.
“I’m fine,” Paola said, though her voice lacked conviction. She looked away again, not able to maintain eye contact for long.
Poca wasn’t convinced. “Ah, non, non,” she said, shaking her head. “You are not fine. You 'ave been 'ere for days, Paola. Ze others, zey come and go, but you… you are 'ere. Alone.”
There was something about the way Poca spoke that was both gentle and persistent. It was as though she was probing Paola’s defenses, not to break them down, but to gently coax her out of the shell she had built around herself.
Paola sighed and ran her hand through her tangled hair. She turned her head to look at Poca fully for the first time, taking in her soft blue skin, those striking stitches that should have made her unsettling but instead made her seem even more gentle. The delicate curve of her face, the kindness in her eyes. She looked tired, yes, but she still carried that optimism, that lightness that had drawn Paola to her from the beginning. Paola bit her lip, trying to gather her thoughts.
“I… I don’t know what to do,” Paola admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like… everything’s so messed up. And I keep going over it, Poca, over and over in my head. That fight… the destruction, the death. And now, what? We’re just supposed to keep going like nothing happened?”
“Oui,” Poca said softly, her voice full of understanding. “Ze battle, it was horrible, but we survived, and zat is something to celebrate, non?”
Paola shook her head. “But it doesn’t feel right,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “We fought so hard… Ayla nearly died, Carter was torn apart, and you… Poca, you kept us all alive. I—” Paola stopped herself, her hands shaking slightly. “I… I don’t know how to say this.”
Poca’s expression softened even further, and she reached out, placing a small, delicate hand on Paola’s bare shoulder. “Mon amie, you can tell me anything. What is on your mind?”
Paola took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Her heart was racing, and she didn’t know if it was from the battle that still echoed in her mind or from the presence of Poca sitting so close, her touch sending shivers through Paola’s body. She looked into Poca’s eyes, searching for the right words.
“I… I have feelings for you,” Paola blurted out, her face flushing red. “I—I mean, I’m with Ayla, but… but we talked about this, and… I think she’d be okay if we… explored things.”
Poca blinked, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “Feelings?” she repeated, her voice soft and questioning. “But Ayla, she is your girlfriend, non?”
“Yes! Yes, she is,” Paola said quickly, her words tumbling over each other in her rush to explain. “But… we talked about this, back at the tavern. Ayla said she wouldn’t mind if… if I had feelings for someone else too. And I… I think I have feelings for you, Poca. But I didn’t think… I mean, you’re so open and friendly, and I didn’t know if… if you felt the same way. And I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to make things weird, but…”
Poca tilted her head to the side, her expression full of gentle curiosity. “You 'ave feelings for me?” she asked, her voice almost innocent. “But I 'ave always been… open and friendly, as you say. I did not know zat you…”
Paola swallowed hard, feeling like her heart was about to burst out of her chest. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper now. “I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same way, and I didn’t want to… make it awkward.”
Poca looked at Paola for a long moment, her eyes searching Paola’s face as if trying to make sense of everything that had just been said. Then, slowly, a soft smile spread across her lips. She leaned in a little closer, her hand still resting on Paola’s shoulder.
“Are you sure… Ayla does not mind?” Poca asked quietly, her voice full of that same gentle curiosity.
Paola let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “I swear,” she said, her voice earnest, though her nerves were still on edge. “She’s okay with it. We talked about it, and… and she said it was fine.”
Poca’s eyes sparkled with something Paola couldn’t quite place. For a moment, there was silence between them, the air thick with tension and uncertainty. Then, before Paola could say another word, Poca leaned in and kissed her—softly, gently, her lips warm and tender against Paola’s.
Paola’s eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat as the reality of what was happening hit her. Poca, sweet and innocent Poca, was kissing her. And it wasn’t awkward or strange. It felt right.
For a moment, Paola didn’t move, frozen by her own hesitation. But then, slowly, she let herself melt into the kiss, her body relaxing as she returned the gesture. Her hands, which had been trembling just moments before, now reached up to gently cup Poca’s face, her fingers tracing the delicate lines of her stitches as she deepened the kiss.
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The world around them seemed to disappear, the chaos of the past few days fading into nothingness as they shared that moment together. Paola’s mind was finally quiet, her thoughts no longer racing with doubt or fear. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt at peace.
When they finally pulled apart, Paola opened her eyes to see Poca’s gentle smile, her face flushed with a soft blush. Poca looked at her with a warmth that made Paola’s heart swell.
“You are sure Ayla does not mind?” Poca whispered, her voice teasing but full of sincerity.
Paola laughed softly, the sound light and free. “Yes, I’m sure,” she said, her voice full of affection.
Poca’s smile grew wider, and she leaned in once more, pressing her lips to Paola’s in another soft kiss, this time more confident, more certain. Paola responded in kind, her body tingling with the electricity of the moment.
Whatever doubts she had felt before were gone now. In that moment, there was no past, no future—only the present. Only the warmth of Poca’s touch, the softness of her lips, and the quiet certainty that, despite everything they had been through, they had found something beautiful in the midst of the chaos.
And for the first time in days, Paola felt something other than hollow emptiness. She felt hope.
Poca pulled away from the kiss, her eyes lingering on Paola’s face for a moment longer before she sat back on the bed, brushing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. A warm, almost shy smile played on her lips, but her expression soon softened into something more tender, more serious.
"You know," Poca began, her voice gentle, almost thoughtful. "You… you are like zis beautiful flower. Growing out from ze ashes of all zat has happened. I… I don’t know 'ow to explain it, but I’ve been pulled into your gravity, Paola. You are change. You are zis… force." Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Paola, a mixture of admiration and wonder in her gaze. "We’ve only known each other for what? A couple of weeks now, oui? But, I 'ave felt zis connection from ze start."
Paola blinked, her heart skipping a beat as she absorbed Poca’s words. It was so unexpected, hearing Poca speak like this—so raw, so open. For someone who was usually so cheerful and full of life, Poca was revealing a side of herself that Paola hadn’t seen before. A side that made Paola feel both elated and overwhelmed all at once.
"I would love to explore zis further," Poca continued softly. Her eyes met Paola’s, and Paola could see the vulnerability there. "I mean… if zat is what you want as well. Of course, we will 'ave to talk to Ayla about zis more, but—"
Paola’s breath caught in her throat. She almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This sweet, kind, and ever-positive girl… actually had feelings for her? After everything that had happened?
Poca smiled, noticing the look of disbelief on Paola’s face, and playfully nudged her with her shoulder. "But, I zink ze three of us will need to have a proper talk, non? I mean… if we are going to be trying to share little ol' Paola 'ere." Her teasing grin and playful tone made Paola’s face flush deep red, and she quickly looked away, trying to hide her embarrassment.
"Poca!" Paola stammered, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. She could barely handle seeing Poca being openly flirty like this, especially with everything that had just happened between them.
Poca’s laughter was light and full of joy. "Ah, mon amie, do not be so embarrassed. I would 'ave been zis way from ze beginning, you know, but I respected zat you 'ad a girlfriend. I didn’t want to cross any lines."
Paola swallowed hard and smiled faintly, still trying to process everything that had happened. "I—I get it," she said softly. "I’m glad you didn’t… I mean, it’s been hard enough just figuring out how I feel about everything. But… I’m glad we’re having this talk now."
The conversation felt lighter, the tension of the moment easing as the initial excitement and butterflies began to fade. But then, something shifted in Poca’s expression. She grew quiet, her playful smile slowly disappearing as a shadow of sadness crossed her face.
"What’s wrong?" Paola asked, her brow furrowing with concern.
Poca sighed softly, looking down at her hands. "I… I still 'ave to travel to Windmere," she said quietly. "I 'ave to take Abraham to his Aunt. She is ze only one who can take him." She looked up at Paola, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "You are welcome to come, of course, but… I understand if you cannot."
Paola nodded, feeling a heaviness settle in her chest. She could see the sadness in Poca’s eyes as she mentioned Windmere, but it was clear that Poca knew her responsibilities lay elsewhere for now. The thought of parting ways, even temporarily, made Paola’s stomach twist.
"I… I want to come," Paola said, her voice barely above a whisper. But then she hesitated, glancing away as thoughts of Ayla filled her mind. She was torn, and Poca could see it.
"Mon amie," Poca said gently, placing a hand on Paola’s arm. "I can see zat you are torn. And zat is okay. We will talk, oui? Ze three of us. We will figure it out."
Paola nodded again, grateful for Poca’s understanding. "Yeah," she said softly. "We’ll talk."
Poca smiled again, though this time it was a softer, more wistful smile. "For now," she said, standing up from the bed, "I 'ave to go check on Carter at ze blacksmith. Zey are working on a new body for him, you know." She chuckled softly, her voice brightening. "I just 'ave to be zere to infuse 'im with ze life magic. It’s not so difficult, really."
Paola watched as Poca slipped away, her graceful form disappearing through the door. And even though hours passed, it felt like only moments when the door creaked open once again—this time without a knock.
Paola sat up slightly in bed, her heart racing as she turned her head to see who it was.
Ayla.
Her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. Ayla stood in the doorway, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, but she was different now. Gone was the usual dragon-guard armor that Paola had grown so accustomed to seeing her in. Instead, Ayla wore a thin, almost sheer nightgown, the delicate fabric hugging the curves of her body. Her blonde hair was braided into two neat braids that hung over her shoulders, and the soft, almost translucent veil of the gown did little to hide the fact that she wore nothing underneath.
The sight of Ayla in such a vulnerable, intimate state sent a shiver down Paola’s spine.
"Ayla," Paola breathed, her voice catching in her throat.
Ayla stepped into the room, her gaze soft but intense, her bare feet making no sound on the floor as she approached Paola. The veil-like nightgown fluttered with each step, and Paola felt her pulse quicken at the sight of her lover, so beautiful, so powerful even in this state of vulnerability.
"Ayla…" Paola whispered again, her eyes searching Ayla’s face for some sign of what was to come. But Ayla’s expression was unreadable—soft, yes, but there was something else there, something deep beneath the surface that Paola couldn’t quite grasp.
Ayla crossed the room in silence and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Paola, her body warm and comforting as she leaned in. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the room bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.
Ayla leaned in closer, her breath warm against Paola's skin. Without a word, she nestled into Paola’s embrace, her body fitting perfectly against Paola’s as they moved together into the bed. Ayla curled up between Paola’s legs, her head resting gently on Paola’s chest. The weight of her body, the steady rhythm of her breathing, was a comfort in the silence that enveloped them.
Paola held Ayla close, her arms wrapped protectively around her, the warmth of their bodies merging as one. They lay like this for what felt like an eternity, saying nothing, simply being in each other’s presence. The world outside their small bubble seemed distant, unimportant, as they shared this intimate moment.
Then, Ayla stirred slightly, her breath hitching just a bit before she lifted her head. She reached up, her fingers brushing softly against Paola's neck, and then, with a tenderness that made Paola's heart ache, Ayla pressed a soft kiss into the curve of Paola’s neck.
The touch of Ayla's lips sent a shiver down Paola’s spine, and she felt herself relax even further into the embrace, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words. She knew she had to tell Ayla what had just happened, what she had shared with Poca. The truth weighed heavily on her, and as much as she feared Ayla’s reaction, she knew she couldn’t keep it from her.
"Ayla…" Paola began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to tell you something…"
Ayla didn’t move, but Paola could feel the shift in her breathing, the slight tension in her muscles as she listened.
"I… I talked to Poca," Paola continued, her heart pounding in her chest. "And… and I told her how I felt. About her. And… she kissed me."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and filled with uncertainty. Paola braced herself for the worst, for Ayla to pull away, to tell her it was over, that she couldn’t accept what had happened. But Ayla didn’t move. She remained still, her head resting against Paola’s chest, her breathing calm and steady.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ayla lifted her head, her mismatched eyes meeting Paola’s deep brown gaze. The crimson of one eye and the bright sapphire of the other seemed to hold a depth of emotion that Paola had never seen before. Then, without a word, Ayla leaned in and pressed her lips softly against Paola’s.
The kiss was gentle, filled with a tenderness that made Paola’s heart ache. It was as if Ayla was trying to convey all the emotions she couldn’t put into words. When she finally pulled away, her eyes searched Paola’s face, looking for something—reassurance, perhaps, or understanding.
"How do you feel about me, Paola?" Ayla asked quietly, her voice steady but laced with vulnerability.
Paola felt her heart swell with emotion. "Ayla… my feelings for you haven’t changed," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I don’t want to lose you. Not at all. If I have to choose…"
But Ayla gently placed a finger on Paola’s lips, silencing her. "You don’t have to choose, Paola," Ayla said softly, her voice full of warmth.
Paola blinked, her mind reeling as she tried to comprehend what Ayla was saying. Without thinking, the words tumbled out of her mouth. "Do you mean… I could have you both?"
There was a long silence as they stared at each other, the question hanging in the air. Paola’s heart raced as she fumbled for words, trying to explain what she meant, but failing miserably.
Then, to her surprise, Ayla laughed—a soft, melodic sound that filled the room. "The only person I’d consider sharing with would be Poca," Ayla said with a smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
Paola’s breath caught in her throat as Ayla leaned in once more, capturing her lips in another kiss. This time, the kiss was deeper, more passionate, filled with a sense of acceptance and understanding. Paola felt herself melting into it, all the fears and doubts she had been harboring slipping away as she gave in to the moment.
When they finally pulled apart, Paola looked into Ayla’s eyes and saw nothing but love and trust. They didn’t need to say anything else—their actions, their touch, spoke volumes more than words ever could.
Paola lay in bed, the weight of the world pressing down on her, yet there was an odd sense of peace now as Ayla nestled against her. The night had been long, filled with tender moments and unspoken words that had finally found their way out. Now, with the moon casting soft light through the window, they lay side by side, bodies close but minds wandering in different directions.
Ayla’s arm was draped over Paola’s waist, her breathing slow and steady, the rise and fall of her chest soothing in the quiet room. Paola stared up at the ceiling, her mind swirling with everything that had happened, the events of the past few days still raw and unprocessed. But here, in this bed, with Ayla beside her, there was a strange calm. Like the eye of a storm.
Ayla stirred, sensing Paola’s restless thoughts. She lifted her head, her mismatched eyes meeting Paola’s. “You’re thinking too much again,” she whispered with a small smile, her voice laced with affection.
Paola chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair away from Ayla’s face. "It's hard not to," she replied, her voice barely above a murmur. "There’s just... so much."
Ayla shifted, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked down at Paola. "I know," she said softly. "But you don’t have to carry it all alone."
Paola sighed, letting her fingers trace the lines of Ayla’s arm. "Cassian and Liora found a healer, didn’t they?" she asked after a moment. "Are they really going back by themselves?"
Ayla nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Yeah, they’ve already left. Cassian and I had a brief talk before they went... About the Lady’s intentions."
Paola turned her head to look at Ayla more closely, concern flickering in her eyes. "And? What did he say?"
Ayla hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, her gaze distant. "Things are... more complicated than I thought. He agrees that Lady Marcelline’s motives are unclear. I thought... maybe I should go back to Valarian, confront her... But..." She trailed off, her voice softening as she looked at Paola. "I don’t want to leave you, either."
Paola felt a pang of warmth in her chest at Ayla's words. She reached up, brushing her fingers along Ayla’s cheek. "I don’t want you to leave either," she whispered. "But... it sounds like there’s something bigger going on."
Ayla sighed, her thumb gently stroking Paola’s skin. "We still have another day here in Emberfall. We’ll figure it out together. You still have to visit the Grove of Echoes, and… I’ll be here for whatever you decide."
Paola nodded slowly, though her mind drifted to the conflicting paths ahead. "And Poca..." Paola began, her thoughts turning to the quirky healer. "She has to go to Windmere. She invited me to go with her to take Abraham to his aunt, but…"
Ayla gave a small nod, understanding the weight of the decision Paola faced. "It sounds like we’re all going in different directions," Ayla said quietly. "But, as I said, we still have a little time here. We can make the most of it, at least. And after that... we'll figure it out."
"Yeah," Paola murmured, leaning into Ayla's touch. Paola closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push the thoughts away, but they kept creeping back. The weight of the choices she had to make, the paths that lay before her. It wasn’t just Ayla or Poca—it was Selene, too. The demon woman who had fought alongside them, who had come to Paola several times since the battle, asking for forgiveness.
Paola had tried to reassure Selene, telling her that her fight on their side was enough, but Selene didn’t believe it. She was haunted by her past, by the things she had done, and she kept returning to Paola, seeking some form of absolution that Paola wasn’t sure she could give.
"Selene’s been coming by," Paola murmured after a long pause. "She keeps asking what she can do to atone, even though I told her fighting with us was enough. She doesn’t believe it… It’s like she needs something more, something I can’t give her."
Ayla listened quietly, her hand resting gently on Paola’s chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. "Selene’s carrying her own burdens," Ayla said softly. "But that’s not for you to fix. You’ve done enough."
Paola let out a slow breath, feeling the tension in her body begin to melt away. "I just… It’s all so much," she admitted, her voice barely audible.
Ayla shifted closer, wrapping her arms more securely around Paola, offering her comfort in the only way she knew how. "I know," Ayla whispered. "But for now, just rest. We’ll face everything else in the morning."
Paola nodded, her thoughts still a tangled mess of everything that had happened, everything that was to come. But Ayla’s warmth, the steady rhythm of her breathing, lulled her into a sense of calm. Slowly, the chaotic storm in her mind began to quiet, and she felt herself drifting into the soft embrace of sleep.
As Paola lay there, her body relaxing into the bed, her mind began to wander once again. Udanara. The world had changed her, shaped her into something she never thought she could be. She thought back to that first kill, the way the man had looked at her, his final words echoing in her mind.
"You're a monster."
Paola had never understood why he said that. But now, as she looked back at everything she had done, everything she had survived, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, he had seen something in her that she hadn’t yet recognized.
The chaos, the destruction… It seemed to follow her, no matter where she went. She had wanted peace, but Udanara had only given her war. Was this her destiny? Was she truly the monster that man had seen?
There were still so many unanswered questions.
As she drifted closer to sleep, her thoughts quieted, and all she could hear was the gentle sound of Ayla’s breathing. It was a reminder that, no matter what she faced, she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
The knock on the door earlier that night had brought her to this moment—this quiet, intimate moment with Ayla, where the world outside no longer mattered. It was just them, together, facing whatever came next.
Paola’s thoughts faded into darkness as sleep finally claimed her, Ayla’s warmth still wrapped around her like a shield against the chaos of the world. In the back of her mind, a single word echoed.
Udanara.
She was the Void Borne, the harbinger of chaos.
But maybe, just maybe, the world had changed her. Maybe, just maybe, she was changing the world.
"Sleep, my love," Ayla murmured, her voice a soothing whisper in the darkness.
Paola sank deeper into the warmth of Ayla's embrace, her worries slowly ebbing away.
Sleep, her thoughts whispered. Rest.
The chaos of the world could wait.
END OF PART I