The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting long shadows over the winding road as the wagon rolled forward at a steady pace. Paola and Ayla sat at the back, their legs dangling off the edge, while the others rode at the front. Poca and Abraham chatted softly with Carter, and Oso was curled up asleep, his soft snores barely audible over the steady creak of the wagon’s wheels. The rhythmic sounds of the forest, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, and the distant call of birds set a peaceful tone that contrasted with the weight Paola could feel hanging in the air between her and Ayla.
Ayla had been quiet for hours, her usual sharp and confident demeanor replaced by a somber silence. Paola hadn’t pushed her, hadn’t asked her what was on her mind. She could sense that Ayla was working through something, something heavy and personal. So, Paola waited, her presence steady and calm, knowing that when Ayla was ready, she would speak.
The forest passed by in a blur of green and brown, the trees standing tall and ancient, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Paola felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, but her mind was elsewhere, focused entirely on Ayla beside her. She glanced at her from time to time, watching the way Ayla’s fingers absentmindedly brushed against the hilt of her broadsword, the way her mismatched eyes—one crimson, the other sapphire—stared into the distance, as though lost in thought.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ayla took a deep breath, her voice quiet and low as she began to speak.
“My life under Lady Marcelline…” Ayla started, her voice trailing off for a moment as she collected her thoughts. “It’s been complicated, to say the least.”
Paola remained silent, her ears perking up as she listened, her tail twitching softly in anticipation. She didn’t speak, didn’t interrupt. She just let Ayla talk, knowing that sometimes the best thing to do was simply to be there.
Ayla’s eyes were fixed on the road behind them, watching as the dirt and gravel passed beneath the wagon’s wheels. Her expression was distant, her usual confidence stripped away, leaving only the raw edges of someone who had lived a life they didn’t choose.
“I’ve been a Sword Maiden for as long as I can remember,” Ayla continued, her voice steady but tinged with an underlying sadness. “I was trained for it—forced into it, really. I never knew my parents. I don’t even know if they’re alive or dead. All I’ve ever known is Lady Marcelline.”
Paola’s heart ached for her, but she didn’t speak. She leaned slightly toward Ayla, letting her presence offer comfort without words, her tail brushing gently against Ayla’s side in a subtle gesture of support.
Ayla let out a bitter laugh, though it was devoid of any real humor. “I used to look up to her. When I was a child, I thought she was like a mother to me. I thought that everything I did was to make her proud, to prove myself to her. But the older I got, the more I realized… it wasn’t pride she wanted. It was control.”
Paola’s tail swished slowly, her heart tightening as she listened to Ayla’s words. The image of Lady Marcelline—a woman of power and influence—loomed large in Paola’s mind, but it wasn’t the image of a motherly figure. It was something else entirely. Paola remembered the way Ayla had spoken about her in the past, the way her voice had always held a hint of something darker, something that had now begun to surface.
“I don’t know what I am,” Ayla said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have this dual affinity—fire and ice. It’s rare, I know that much. But Lady Marcelline never told me anything about where I came from, about who I am. I don’t even know if I’m human or something else.”
Paola’s eyes flickered with sadness, and she leaned in just a bit closer, her tail brushing against Ayla’s thigh, a soft, comforting motion. Still, she remained silent, allowing Ayla to continue at her own pace.
Ayla’s fingers traced the hilt of her sword, her eyes distant as she spoke. “I had dreams once. Goals, like any young girl. But every time I got close to something, it was taken away. Lady Marcelline didn’t allow for distractions. She didn’t want me to be anything but what she needed—a weapon.”
Paola’s chest tightened at Ayla’s words, and she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life Ayla would have had if things had been different. What kind of person would she have been if she had been allowed to follow her dreams instead of being molded into a tool for someone else’s ambitions?
“When I was older, she sent me to school. I thought… I thought it was because she believed in me. I worked harder than anyone else, pushed myself to the limit every day. I graduated at the top of my class. I thought I was making her proud.” Ayla’s voice wavered, and she paused, her eyes flickering with something raw and painful. “But all I got for my effort was a contract of servitude.”
The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, like the weight of a burden that had been carried for far too long. Paola’s tail wrapped gently around Ayla’s waist, a silent gesture of comfort and solidarity. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to offer the kind of solace Ayla needed, but she hoped that her presence was enough.
Ayla’s face was expressionless as she stared at the passing trees, the road beneath them disappearing behind the wagon. “Three more years,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Three more years of being her sword. That’s all I have left.”
Paola’s mind raced, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what Ayla had endured. She had known that Lady Marcelline was a powerful figure in Ayla’s life, but she hadn’t fully understood the depth of the control that woman had held over her. And now, seeing Ayla so raw, so vulnerable, Paola felt a wave of protectiveness wash over her.
“I’ve spent my entire life sharpening my blade,” Ayla continued, her voice hollow. “I thought that’s what I wanted—to be strong, to be the best. But now, I wonder… is that all I am? A more dangerous version of Gwenore, Lady Marcelline’s head maid? Just another tool, another weapon to be used and discarded when I’m no longer useful?”
Paola leaned in closer, her head resting gently against Ayla’s shoulder. Her tail curled around Ayla’s waist, a warm, comforting presence that offered silent reassurance. She didn’t need to say anything—her actions spoke louder than words ever could. She was here for Ayla, no matter what.
Ayla’s gaze remained fixed on the ground as the wagon rolled forward, the trees passing by in a blur. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” she admitted softly, her voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know what I want. For so long, I’ve just been… surviving. Doing what I’m told. And now, with you and Poca, with this journey… I feel like I’m waking up from a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.”
Paola’s heart ached for her, but she knew that Ayla needed to say this, needed to let it out. So she remained silent, her arms and tail offering the only comfort she could give. She nuzzled Ayla gently, her soft cheek brushing against Ayla’s neck, a quiet reminder that she wasn’t alone.
Ayla’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. Her eyes were glassy, as though she were holding back something deep inside, something she had kept buried for far too long. When she finally spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I don’t want to be just a sword anymore, Paola,” Ayla admitted, her voice trembling. “I want to be more than that. I want… I want to live.”
Paola felt tears prick at her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. Instead, she tightened her hold on Ayla, her tail brushing softly against Ayla’s back in a comforting rhythm. She didn’t need to say anything. Ayla knew she understood. Knew she would be there for her, no matter what.
They sat in silence for a long time after that, the only sounds the creak of the wagon and the gentle rustling of the trees around them. Paola didn’t push Ayla to say more, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty words. Instead, she let the moment be what it was—a quiet, vulnerable space where Ayla could finally let go of the weight she had been carrying for so long.
The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the road. Paola and Ayla sat side by side at the back of the wagon, their legs dangling off the edge as the steady creak of the wheels continued. The warm light of the setting sun softened the world around them, but the weight of Ayla’s words hung heavy in the air. Paola had been quiet, offering silent comfort with her presence, her tail gently wrapped around Ayla’s waist in a small, reassuring gesture.
Ayla exhaled a slow, shaky breath, her gaze still fixed on the ground passing beneath the wagon. She hadn’t spoken for a while, but it was clear she was still wrestling with the thoughts and emotions that had been stirred up. Paola’s heart ached for her, but she didn’t push. She had learned to let Ayla come to her own conclusions, to speak when she was ready.
“I still see her as my mother, you know,” Ayla said quietly, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and confusion. “Lady Marcelline… as much as I’ve questioned things lately, as much as I’ve felt betrayed by her… she’s still the only family I’ve ever known.”
Paola listened, her ears flicking slightly as she kept her eyes on Ayla, her expression soft but attentive. Ayla had been holding all of this in for so long, and now that she was finally opening up, Paola wasn’t going to interrupt her.
Ayla shook her head, her hands resting on her lap, fingers trembling slightly. “It’s confusing, Paola. I’ve been angry. I’ve felt… lost. But I can’t let go of the idea that maybe, somehow, she really does care. That she really does want what’s best for me. I just… don’t want to be a sword anymore.”
Paola’s heart clenched. Ayla’s voice was filled with conflict, the deep-seated emotions she had buried for so long bubbling to the surface. It wasn’t easy for someone like Ayla—who had spent her whole life being strong, being resilient—to admit something like this. The complexity of Ayla’s relationship with Lady Marcelline was clear in every word she spoke.
“I want her to be proud of me,” Ayla continued, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to earn that, trying to be what she needed. But it’s like… the closer I get to being perfect, to being the sword she forged, the further away I get from who I wanted to be. And it hurts.”
Paola said nothing, though her tail wrapped tighter around Ayla’s waist, her touch offering quiet support. Ayla glanced at Paola for a moment, her mismatched eyes filled with a storm of feelings—sadness, frustration, and something that felt like guilt.
“I know things have been… off, ever since she found out you were a hidden star,” Ayla said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “Everything changed after that. I saw it in her eyes. And I’ve been trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why. But I can’t.”
Paola’s stomach tightened at the mention of Lady Marcelline’s reaction to her. She didn’t show it outwardly, but inside, her mind raced. Lady Marcelline had been wary of her from the start, and as much as Paola tried to downplay it, she knew the truth. She was expendable. She wasn’t a cherished part of Lady Marcelline’s circle. She was a fallen star—an anomaly. And anomalies were dangerous.
Ayla’s next words only confirmed Paola’s darkest thoughts.
“When we go back, I’m going to confront her,” Ayla said, her voice gaining a hard edge. “I have to. I can’t keep pretending everything is fine. I need to know why she’s treating you like this. I need to know what she really thinks, what her intentions are.”
Paola’s pulse quickened at the thought. Going back to Lady Marcelline? Facing her, especially after everything that had happened? Paola couldn’t hide the dread that crawled up her spine. She kept her face composed, though, not wanting to worry Ayla. But inside, her thoughts churned.
Going back there… is that really a good idea? she wondered. Lady Marcelline had been cold from the beginning, but the moment she found out Paola was a fallen star, her attitude shifted. And not in a good way. Paola had felt it—a kind of watchful suspicion, as though Lady Marcelline was waiting for her to make a mistake, waiting for an excuse to deal with her.
Paola cared deeply for Ayla—more than she could put into words. And she didn’t doubt that Ayla would protect her. But Lady Marcelline? That was another story. Paola couldn’t shake the feeling that, to Lady Marcelline, she was nothing more than a potential threat, something to be handled. And if push came to shove… Paola thought darkly, what’s to stop Lady Marcelline from eliminating me entirely?
But Ayla… Ayla was different. She was Lady Marcelline’s adopted daughter, her most trusted Sword Maiden. There was no way Lady Marcelline would turn on Ayla, right? And yet, Paola couldn’t shake the feeling that Lady Marcelline wouldn’t hesitate if it came down to her star-crossed girlfriend.
“She’s not going to hurt you,” Ayla said, as if reading Paola’s mind. But her voice lacked the certainty Paola had hoped for. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Paola’s thoughts spun in her head, but she remained silent. She wasn’t sure what to believe. Ayla seemed so convinced, so determined to confront Lady Marcelline, but Paola knew better than to place blind trust in someone as powerful and secretive as the Lady. And the fact that Ayla herself had begun to doubt her? That was unsettling.
Ayla let out a long, heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping as she stared at the passing trees. “I’ve spent seven years trying to make her proud,” she said quietly. “Seven years of sharpening my blade, of becoming exactly what she wanted me to be. And now… now, I’m not even sure I want that anymore.”
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Paola shifted slightly, leaning her head against Ayla’s shoulder, her tail tightening around her waist in a comforting embrace. She didn’t speak, didn’t offer any advice. How could she? She barely understood herself, her role in this strange world. Who was she to question Ayla’s emotions, her connection to Lady Marcelline?
“I don’t know what to do, Paola,” Ayla admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “I want to believe that Lady Marcelline still cares about me, that she’s not just using me. But ever since she found out about you, things have been different. And I’m afraid… afraid of what she might do.”
Paola’s heart ached at Ayla’s confession. She knew that Ayla had been questioning things, but to hear her admit it out loud made it all the more real. The doubt, the fear, the uncertainty—it was all there, right beneath the surface. And Paola felt it too.
Ayla’s eyes were glassy as she stared at the road behind them. “But I still love her,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “As much as it hurts, as much as I feel betrayed… I still see her as my mother. I still want her to be proud of me.”
Paola felt a lump rise in her throat. She tightened her embrace around Ayla, her head still resting against her shoulder. She didn’t have the answers, didn’t know what to say to make it better. But she knew one thing: Ayla wasn’t alone.
And that was all she could offer right now.
For a long while, neither of them spoke. The wagon creaked along the road, the trees swaying gently in the breeze. Poca’s laughter drifted back from the front of the wagon, mingling with Abraham’s quiet voice and Carter’s occasional gestures. It was a peaceful scene, but the tension between Ayla and Paola lingered, unspoken but ever-present.
“I’m going to confront her,” Ayla repeated softly, more to herself than to Paola. “When we get back… I’ll ask her everything. About you. About me. About what she really wants.”
Paola closed her eyes for a moment, letting the cool air wash over her skin. She didn’t show it, but deep inside, she wasn’t sure if going back to Lady Marcelline was the right choice. She had her doubts, her fears. And as much as she wanted to believe Ayla’s words, the truth was… they were walking into uncertainty.
But Paola also knew one thing for certain: she didn’t have another option. Not yet.
I’m expendable, Paola thought bitterly. She wasn’t like Ayla, tied by bonds of loyalty and history. She was an outsider, a fallen star, a threat to the balance. And if Lady Marcelline truly wanted to rid herself of that threat… well, Paola wouldn’t be surprised. Everything so far had pointed in that direction.
But Ayla’s doubt, her questioning, her need to understand—that was something Lady Marcelline couldn’t have predicted. And Paola clung to that small thread of hope. If Ayla, of all people, could begin to see things differently… maybe, just maybe, they could survive this.
The sun had dipped lower, casting the forest in hues of orange and gold, as Ayla finally leaned back, resting her head against the side of the wagon. “I just don’t want to be a sword anymore,” she whispered. “I want to be more than that. And I want her to see me as more.”
Paola nuzzled Ayla gently, her tail brushing softly against her side. She didn’t need to speak. She just needed to be there, offering her quiet support, her silent promise.
***
The days had blurred together since the chaos of the battle with the rogue magists. Paola had been reckless, too confident in her abilities. She knew it. Her eagerness had almost cost her everything, and once again, if it weren’t for Ayla, she would have been dead. The weight of that realization sat heavily on her mind, even as the wagon rolled steadily toward Windmere. It had been a couple of days since they left the aftermath behind, but the echoes of that fight still lingered between them, especially for Ayla, who had needed time to recover—not physically, but emotionally—from the burden of what she'd been forced to do.
Paola had spent much of that time trying to understand herself, her abilities, and what her existence in Udanara really meant. The conversations between her, Ayla, and Poca had shifted into deeper, more introspective topics—things that Paola hadn’t expected to be grappling with so soon. But this world had a way of forcing you to grow faster than you were ready for.
Ayla had taken a full day to process everything. She’d been quieter than usual, her sharp confidence softened as she dealt with the aftermath of the battle. Paola had given her space, but even as Ayla became more herself again, there was something unspoken between them. Something heavy. And Paola felt it in her own chest, too. The guilt. The uncertainty. The strange, creeping fear that she was pushing herself too far, too fast.
Now, a couple of days later, they sat together again, much like before, their legs dangling off the back of the wagon as it made its way down the road. The air was cooler today, with the smell of distant rain hanging in the breeze. Paola had asked Ayla about something that had been bothering her for a while.
Her HP.
"Why’s my HP going up?" Paola had asked, breaking the silence. "I haven’t been back to the Grove of Echoes to increase my durability, so why am I getting stronger?"
Ayla had pondered that for a moment before answering, her voice thoughtful. “There are certain races that can gain HP outside of the Grove,” she explained. “You’re T’shal’ara, Paola. It makes sense. Your race is unique in more ways than one. Some of that natural durability comes from your biology.”
Paola nodded, though her mind drifted as she tried to wrap her head around it. Udanara had rules that didn’t quite align with what her brain from Earth could fully grasp. It was still strange to her, despite how much she had learned, and despite how much she’d grown since arriving. Her Earth mind wasn’t fully compatible with the logic of this place, but she was starting to get used to the contradictions.
That didn’t stop her from being bad at all of this, though.
“I mean, I get that… kinda.” Paola furrowed her brow. “But my Earth brain still struggles to process it sometimes. It’s like… it makes sense, but it doesn’t at the same time. Does that make any sense?”
Ayla smirked. “You’re adapting. The tree of life adapts with you, Paola. It grows with you and adjusts based on how you develop. Your skills, your abilities, they aren’t just static things. They evolve.”
Paola understood, at least on some level. But she still had so many questions. Why was she pulled from Earth to Udanara? Were there other fallen stars from Earth? And if there were, was there a way back?
She sighed, leaning back on her hands as she gazed up at the sky. I died, she thought to herself. I’m dead on Earth. My family knows I’m dead. So going back isn’t possible… right?
But there was a nagging feeling deep inside her. What if there was a way back?
Her mind wandered further, to the abilities she had developed since arriving. She had once had a bardic skill, something that had formed from her playing the guitar. She had maxed out that ability when she sang and played, enchanting those around her without even thinking about it. But now, it was gone. Replaced with something else. Summon from scratch—that was what she called it. The ability to summon any weapon, though she somehow kept landing on a dagger. And now, with her T’shal’ara bone claws, the dagger and claws had become her primary weapons.
T'shal'ara were supposed to have strong magical affinities, to wield magic with ease. Yet, her chaotic energy had refused to cooperate, as if mocking her attempts to control it. Of course it would. Chaos wasn’t meant to be controlled. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating.
She sighed again, frustrated but trying not to let it show. “So… my skills translate into my abilities. The tree adapts with me. But… how does it know me better than I know myself?”
Ayla chuckled softly, her eyes flicking over to Paola. “That’s Udanara for you. The tree grows with you because it’s connected to the essence of who you are. It’s part of the magic that governs this world.”
Paola shook her head, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, that’s still something my brain is going to take a while to fully grasp.”
“You’re not alone in that,” Ayla said, her voice soft but reassuring. “Even those of us born here have trouble fully understanding the tree. But we trust it. And I think, in time, you’ll come to trust it too.”
Paola wasn’t sure about that. She felt like she was just barely holding on, trying to figure out how any of this worked. But she nodded anyway, appreciating Ayla’s words. They were only a few days out from Windmere now, and she needed to keep her head straight. There was so much to think about, so much she still didn’t understand about herself or her place in this world.
She glanced over at Ayla, who had been quietly observing her. “What’s on your mind?” Paola asked, trying to shift the conversation away from her own frustrations.
Ayla hesitated for a moment before speaking. “You’ve been adjusting fast, Paola. I’ve seen it. You push yourself hard, and that’s a good thing… but it also makes me worry. You overstepped back there with the rogue magists. I had to pull you out of that mess.”
Paola winced, feeling a pang of guilt. She knew Ayla was right. She had been too eager, too reckless. “I know,” she admitted quietly. “I thought I could handle it, but I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
Ayla shook her head. “It’s not about being sorry. It’s about understanding your limits. I know you’re gaining experience fast, but you can’t rush this. Udanara isn’t like Earth. You have to let yourself grow at the right pace. If you don’t, you’re going to burn out. Or worse.”
Paola nodded, her throat tight. She hadn’t meant to put them in danger. She just… wanted to be strong enough to keep up with Ayla, to protect herself and the people she cared about.
As if sensing her thoughts, Ayla placed a hand on Paola’s shoulder, her touch firm but gentle. “You’re strong, Paola. You’ve come a long way since you first arrived. But don’t forget, you don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got me, Poca, and everyone else by your side.”
Paola’s heart swelled at Ayla’s words, and she found herself smiling despite the heaviness that still lingered. “Thanks,” she said softly. “I guess I just… don’t want to let anyone down.”
“You’re not letting anyone down,” Ayla replied, her voice warm. “We’re all learning, in one way or another. And if you ever feel like you’re losing your way, we’re here to remind you.”
The conversation between Paola and Ayla had drifted into a comfortable lull. The wagon creaked along the uneven road, the distant sounds of birds echoing through the trees, while the soft breeze rustled the leaves. Paola’s mind, however, was far from settled. The peace of the forest around them couldn’t calm the storm of questions that had been brewing inside her for days—questions she hadn’t dared to voice until now.
She glanced at Ayla, who was lost in her own thoughts, her mismatched eyes reflecting the shifting light of the setting sun. Paola knew Ayla had her own burdens, her own conflicts to resolve, but there was something else she needed to know. Something about her own existence here that had been gnawing at her since the day she arrived.
“Ayla,” Paola began softly, breaking the silence. “Can I ask you something?”
Ayla turned to her, nodding, her expression open. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
Paola hesitated for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. “The fallen stars… or, the Void Borne, as you called them. Do you know if any of them… came from Earth? Like me?”
Ayla’s brow furrowed slightly as she considered the question. “The Void Borne are more myth than fact at this point,” she admitted. “There’s very little accurate information about them left. They’re spoken of in legends, but the details are hazy. Most of what people know is speculation. If you wanted to meet one, it would be rare. Extremely rare.”
Paola’s heart sank a little at that. She had hoped for some kind of answer, something concrete to hold on to. But instead, she was left with even more uncertainty. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder. Were there others like her—others who had died on Earth, only to end up here in Udanara? It felt impossible, yet at the same time, the odds weren’t that far-fetched. Not when she considered how vast the universe truly was.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Paola said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “I mean, I died on Earth. I know I did. I remember everything… my life, my family, my friends. But now I’m here. What if there are others? What if other fallen stars came from Earth too?”
Ayla listened intently, her gaze soft but thoughtful. “It’s possible,” she said after a moment. “But you have to remember, fallen stars are separated by generations. The Void Borne that exist now, if they do exist, may have come from completely different worlds. Or… maybe some did come from Earth. It’s hard to say.”
Paola nodded, her thoughts racing. “I know… I just keep thinking about it. I mean, Earth is just one planet in a universe full of countless others. The odds that I’m the only human here… they seem so small, but at the same time, they’re just as likely, right? Maybe I am the only one.”
Her voice grew softer as she spoke, as if the weight of the possibility was sinking deeper into her chest. “But why me? Why was I the one pulled from Earth? I should be dead. I am dead, as far as Earth is concerned. My family knows I’m gone. They’re probably grieving right now, and I—” Paola stopped, swallowing hard, the pain of that realization hitting her again, as it often did in quiet moments like this.
Ayla reached out, placing a hand on Paola’s shoulder. “I wish I had answers for you,” she said gently. “But this world, Udanara… it has its own rules, its own mysteries. Maybe there is a reason you’re here. Maybe there’s a purpose for your arrival. But I can’t pretend to know what it is.”
Paola’s eyes drifted toward the horizon, where the sun was sinking lower, casting a deep orange glow over the landscape. “I remember everything,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I remember my family, my old life. My dad teaching me to play guitar. My mom working long hours to take care of us. My brother and sister… teasing me, but always looking out for me. Those memories—they’re real. They feel so real. But this… this is real too. And I don’t understand how both can exist at the same time.”
Ayla’s hand squeezed Paola’s shoulder gently, offering silent support. Paola didn’t cry, but her chest felt tight, the ache of her old life pressing against the reality of her new one. She thought about the statistics she had once read on Earth—how, in the United States alone, someone died every 12 seconds. The idea that out of all those souls, hers was the one to end up here… it didn’t make sense. But then again, nothing about this world made sense.
“Maybe I’ll never know why,” Paola murmured, her gaze still fixed on the distant horizon. “Maybe I’ll never find out if there are others like me, or if I’m just… an anomaly. But I can’t stop wondering.”
Ayla remained silent, her presence steady and comforting. She didn’t try to offer false reassurances or answers she didn’t have. Instead, she let Paola’s words hang in the air, giving her the space to process her thoughts.
“I just…” Paola’s voice faltered. “I feel like I shouldn’t even exist. I should be nothing. But here I am, with these memories of Earth, with this new life in Udanara, and I don’t know why. It’s like I’m stuck between two worlds, and neither of them makes sense anymore.”
Ayla turned slightly, her mismatched eyes meeting Paola’s. “You’re not stuck, Paola,” she said softly. “You’re living. You’re moving forward, one step at a time. Maybe you don’t have all the answers yet, but that doesn’t mean you’re lost. It just means your journey isn’t over.”
Paola looked at her, her heart heavy with the weight of Ayla’s words. She wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe there was a reason she was here, that she wasn’t just some random soul thrown into Udanara by chance. But the uncertainty gnawed at her, pulling her thoughts in a thousand directions.
“I know you’re right,” Paola finally said, her voice barely audible. “But it’s hard to feel that way sometimes. I miss them. My family, my old life. It feels so far away now, but it’s still part of me.”
Ayla nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I can’t imagine what that feels like, but I do know that you’re here now. And whatever brought you to Udanara, whatever reason you were pulled from Earth… it’s not for nothing. You’re part of something bigger, even if you don’t see it yet.”
Paola sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she processed Ayla’s words. She knew she was right, but it didn’t make the ache any less painful. The memories of Earth were still fresh, still vivid in her mind, and every day she felt like she was drifting further and further away from them.
But as she sat there, the cool breeze brushing against her skin, the warmth of Ayla’s hand on her shoulder, she realized something.
Maybe it was okay not to have all the answers yet.
Maybe it was okay to live in the uncertainty for a while.
“I’ll try,” Paola said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of determination. “I’ll try to keep moving forward.”
Ayla smiled softly, her hand still resting on Paola’s shoulder. “That’s all you can do.”
They sat there in silence for a while longer, the wagon rolling steadily toward Windmere, the sun finally dipping below the horizon. The shadows of the trees stretched out before them, but Paola felt a small spark of hope flicker inside her chest.
She didn’t have all the answers. She didn’t know why she was here, or if there were others like her. Seems like that would be a problem for future Paola, she thought. For now, she was going to take it one step at a time, like Ayla said. She would keep moving forward, no matter what.
Because the uncertainty was what kept her alive.