Paola’s steps were soft, almost inaudible against the cobblestone streets of Windmere. Each step she took was unhurried, the smooth stone cool beneath her feet as she made her way through the city. Her eyes were distant, lost in thought as her tail swayed lazily behind her, occasionally brushing against her legs. The noise of the bustling city surrounded her, but it felt muted, distant—as if she were somewhere else entirely.
Her gaze shifted to the railing just ahead, and she moved toward it, her hands gently gripping the stone as she leaned over, peering down into the winding streets below. The wind tugged at her cloak, threatening to expose her naked body to the world, but she quickly caught the fabric, drawing it tighter around herself.
The time she had spent with Selene earlier that day played in her mind. It was strange, seeing someone like Selene—a demon woman with a troubled past—trying so hard to find her way back to some kind of normalcy. In a way, it mirrored Paola’s own struggle. She hated what she was. Void Borne. A fallen star. The title was as heavy as the powers that came with it, but the weight that pressed down on her soul was even greater.
Paola’s eyes wandered across the expanse of Windmere, really taking in the sights again, as if seeing them for the first time. The towering spires, the intricate stonework, the way the city seemed to be cradled by the surrounding mountains—it was beautiful, but it also felt alien. This was a different world. A far cry from the one she had left behind. Earth felt so distant now, like a fading dream. And yet, there were times when the memories of home clung to her, refusing to let go.
She looked up at the sky. The sun hadn’t set yet—there were still a few hours left before nightfall—but the fading light cast a soft golden glow over the city. Somewhere, beyond those clouds and beyond the stars, was Earth. She knew it was out there, just as she knew her family was no longer waiting for her. Her soul had traveled back—briefly—to watch them say their final goodbyes, to see them bury her. It was a strange, heartbreaking kind of closure.
The wind picked up again, tugging her ponytail and causing the cloak to flutter once more. Paola sighed, letting her hands fall from the stone railing to clasp together in front of her, elbows resting against the cool surface. The Arcange Forge loomed in the distance, its towering spires casting long shadows over the city. She’d caught glimpses of it before, but it always seemed just out of reach, hidden away in this labyrinthine city. Udanara was like that—full of secrets and mysteries, always keeping her guessing, always keeping her on edge. She wondered, not for the first time, if she would ever feel like she truly belonged here.
Lost again, she thought with a wry smile, shaking her head slightly. No matter how much time passed, that sense of being adrift never really left her. She could navigate through the chaos, the battles, the danger—but in the quiet moments, like now, that old feeling crept back in.
With another deep breath, Paola pushed away from the railing and resumed walking. Before she knew it, she was back at the inn. The familiar creak of the wooden door greeted her as she stepped inside, and a wave of relief washed over her. This place, at least, had started to feel like a small sanctuary amid the madness.
Inside, Ayla and Poca were waiting. Poca, always the carefree one, was sprawled out across the bed, already napping in her new set of clothes. Paola couldn’t help but smile as she took in the sight. Poca’s light blue skin stood out against the beige pants she wore, which wrapped tight under her knees. The loose-fitting kimono-style top barely contained her sizable chest, and her hands were tucked lazily behind her head as her feet dangled off the side of the bed, as if she hadn’t meant to fall asleep but had drifted off anyway.
Paola took a few quiet steps closer, not wanting to wake her, but before she could reach the bed, the door opened again.
Ayla stepped inside, and Paola froze, her eyes widening at the sight. Ayla had always been striking—tall, powerful, with her piercing mismatched eyes and that fierce warrior’s aura—but now… now she looked even more breathtaking. Paola’s tail swished in excitement, her eyes roaming over the new suit of armor that Ayla wore.
Where once the Dragon Guard armor had been little more than a metal bikini, it had now evolved into something far more intricate, more protective, and—Paola noted with some amusement—still undeniably Ayla. The armor still revealed her midriff, but instead of bare skin, mithralite chains crisscrossed her abdomen, glinting in the soft light of the room. The shoulder plates had been extended, flowing into a fuller breastplate that covered more of her chest, but the design remained true to the original: sleek, black Damascus metal shaped like dragon scales, each piece layered to offer both flexibility and protection.
The boots were still the same, reaching just above her knees, but gone were the exposed thighs and the thong that Paola had secretly admired—now, Ayla wore matching black, dragon-scale armor that hugged her legs like yoga pants. The scales were thicker over her thighs and hips, giving her more defensive coverage, but the armor still allowed for easy movement. Paola could tell that much from how fluidly Ayla moved, even with the added weight.
Paola’s gaze flicked back up to meet Ayla’s eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. Ayla’s face was flushed a deep red, her eyes darting away shyly before returning to meet Paola’s. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room seemed to grow warmer, the air between them charged with something unspoken.
“You… you look amazing,” Paola said softly, her voice breaking the silence. She felt a little breathless, and her tail flicked behind her again, betraying her excitement.
Ayla shifted awkwardly, clearly unused to the attention. “I, uh… I thought it was time for an upgrade,” she mumbled, her mismatched eyes glancing down at herself as if she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the new look. “The old armor… well, it wasn’t exactly practical.”
Paola laughed softly. “No, it wasn’t,” she agreed, stepping closer to Ayla. “But this… this is perfect. You look like a goddess.”
Ayla’s blush deepened, and she rubbed the back of her neck, clearly flustered. “I don’t know about that…”
Paola’s heart warmed at the sight. Ayla was always so composed, so strong in battle, but in moments like this—when it was just the two of them—she was endearingly vulnerable. Paola reached out, gently placing a hand on Ayla’s armored forearm, feeling the cool metal beneath her fingertips.
“You’re always beautiful to me,” Paola whispered, her voice soft but sincere.
Ayla’s breath hitched, and for a moment, Paola wondered if she had said too much. But then Ayla’s hand came up, gently cupping Paola’s cheek, her thumb brushing lightly across her skin.
“You’re the one who’s beautiful,” Ayla murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Paola found it utterly adorable when Ayla was flustered. For someone so strong, so composed, and always ready for battle, it was rare to see Ayla blush or stumble over her words. Paola often teased her for it, inwardly delighted by the contrast between the fierce warrior Ayla was in battle and the shy, flustered woman she became in these quiet moments.
Ayla was, after all, a sword maiden—proud, powerful, and disciplined. And yet, Paola had always known there was more to her than just the hardened exterior. It was this softer side that made Paola’s heart flutter each time she caught a glimpse of it. And as expected, as if it had become their silent ritual, Ayla stepped closer, her hand gently grabbing Paola's chin. Paola tilted her head up just as Ayla leaned in, closing the distance between them.
Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss—one that Paola happily accepted. Her ears, pointed and sensitive, pulled back in delight as her tail swished eagerly behind her, betraying her excitement. The kiss was slow, sweet, and comfortable, and Paola found herself standing on her toes to reach her taller girlfriend, her bare feet pressing into the wooden floor beneath her. Ayla’s lips were warm, her kiss tender yet filled with an unspoken passion that made Paola’s chest tighten.
When Ayla finally pulled back, her mismatched eyes—one a brilliant red and the other a piercing blue—gazed down at Paola with an intensity that never failed to make her feel seen, truly seen. Paola’s golden-flecked brown eyes met Ayla’s gaze, and for a moment, the world outside the inn ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, sharing a moment of quiet connection.
But then, as Paola’s gaze drifted to Ayla’s lips, she noticed something—a sly grin creeping onto her face. It was subtle at first, just the barest twitch of her mouth, but Paola knew that look. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, wondering what her girlfriend was up to now.
Before she could ask, Ayla’s hand reached up, her fingers moving purposefully until they found the space between Paola’s cat-like ears, nestled atop her head. Paola blinked, her heart skipping a beat as Ayla’s fingers pressed gently into her skull, massaging the sensitive area with an unexpected tenderness.
It was like a switch had been flipped inside her. Paola’s ears immediately flattened to the side, her body reacting instinctively to the touch. Her eyes went half-lidded, and her knees bent slightly as if her body was giving in to the overwhelming sensation. Her toes curled into the wood floor, and a soft, involuntary mhhm escaped her lips, a small moan of pleasure that surprised even her.
Paola’s eyes widened in embarrassment, and her hands shot up to cover her mouth, trying desperately to stifle the sound. Her cheeks burned red with a deep blush, the heat spreading across her face and down her neck. She felt utterly exposed in that moment, her body betraying her as Ayla’s hand continued to rub her head in slow, deliberate circles.
Ayla’s laughter broke through the stillness of the room, light and filled with delight. She stepped back slightly, grinning down at Paola with a look that was both amused and affectionate. “Oh gods, Paola, you’re so cute!” she practically squealed, her voice filled with genuine adoration.
Paola’s blush deepened, and she shot Ayla a mock glare, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way her tail was still flicking behind her in obvious contentment. “Ayla!” she mumbled through her hands, her voice muffled but still carrying a note of exasperation.
But Ayla just laughed again, clearly pleased with herself. “I had no idea you liked that so much,” she teased, her hand still resting on Paola’s head, though now she was being far gentler with her touch, simply letting her fingers stroke the space between Paola’s ears. “You make the sweetest sounds.”
Paola wanted to retort, to say something clever or playful in return, but her words were cut off by the sudden, startled sound of movement from the bed behind them.
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Poca shot up from where she had been napping, her eyes wide and wild with confusion. “Ah! Non, non! Get ze rabbit out of ze garden!” she shouted, her thick French accent slurring slightly from sleep. Her arms flailed for a moment as if she were fighting off some invisible intruder, before she blinked, her mismatched eyes—one green, one purple—finally focusing on her surroundings.
Paola and Ayla turned toward her, both of them trying to stifle their laughter. Poca looked around, still dazed, her wild navy-blue hair falling messily over her shoulders as she blinked at the two women standing near the door. For a moment, she just stared at them, her eyes locking onto Paola’s still-blushing face and Ayla’s amused grin.
“Oh, it is just you,” Poca mumbled sleepily, her voice heavy with her accent. She flopped back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, her hands coming up to rub at her eyes. “I thought I was in ze garden again. Merde…”
Paola bit her lip, trying not to laugh, but the absurdity of the moment was too much. She let out a soft giggle, her shoulders shaking as she watched Poca curl back up on the bed, pulling the blanket over her head in an attempt to go back to sleep.
Ayla grinned, her own laughter mixing with Paola’s. “You were dreaming about rabbits again, huh?”
“Oui,” Poca mumbled from beneath the blanket, her voice muffled but still clear enough to make out. “Zey always eat my carrots. So rude.”
Paola shook her head, still smiling, and moved closer to the bed, reaching out to tug the blanket down just enough to reveal Poca’s sleepy face. “We’ll keep the rabbits out of your garden, don’t worry,” she said softly, her voice filled with affection.
Poca opened one eye, peering up at Paola with a sleepy but endearing expression. “You are ze best,” she mumbled before snuggling deeper into the bed, her mismatched eyes fluttering closed again.
Paola’s heart swelled at the sight, and she gently brushed a strand of Poca’s hair away from her face. Poca was such a contrast to both her and Ayla—so carefree, so full of life, even in her sleep. There was something grounding about her presence, something that made Paola feel safe, even in this strange and unpredictable world.
As Poca drifted back to sleep, Paola felt Ayla’s arm wrap around her waist, pulling her close. She leaned into the warmth of her girlfriend’s embrace, her earlier embarrassment melting away as she rested her head against Ayla’s shoulder.
“I love this,” Paola whispered after a moment, her voice soft as she looked up at Ayla. “I love having these moments with you. With both of you.”
Ayla’s expression softened, and she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Paola’s head. “I do too,” she murmured. “It’s nice to have something… normal. Especially in a place like this.”
Paola nodded, her hand finding Ayla’s and intertwining their fingers. For all the chaos and danger they faced, for all the uncertainty that came with being Void Borne in a world like Udanara, these moments—these small, quiet moments—were what made it all worth it.
They stood there for a while longer, just enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence, the soft sounds of Poca’s breathing filling the room. Eventually, Paola pulled away just enough to look up at Ayla again, her golden-flecked brown eyes shimmering with affection.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ayla smiled, her mismatched eyes glowing with warmth. “You didn’t have to do anything. I’m the lucky one.”
Paola’s heart fluttered at those words, and she leaned in, pressing her lips to Ayla’s in a kiss that was both tender and filled with gratitude. Ayla kissed her back, slow and gentle, as if they had all the time in the world.
And in that moment, it felt like they did.
Poca stirred again, her mismatched green and purple eyes fluttering open. She blinked a few times before stretching out across the bed, her arms extending above her head in an exaggerated motion, her fingers splayed wide as though she were reaching for something far beyond her grasp. She let out a long, melodramatic sigh, then rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand as she looked between Paola and Ayla, her lips forming into a pout.
“C’est not fair,” she whined, her thick French accent even more pronounced in her half-awake state. “It should be mon tour now, Paola! I was out all day, shopping with zis one.” She waved her hand dramatically in Ayla’s direction, her head flopping back against the pillow as though the effort of pointing was too much for her to bear.
Paola raised an eyebrow, looking between the two women. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips. She already knew that whatever Poca was about to say was bound to be amusing.
Poca sat up, shaking her head as though the mere memory of the day’s events had worn her out. She gestured wildly at Ayla, her movements exaggerated as she mimicked the warrior’s serious demeanor. “Zat woman never stops!” Poca cried, waving her hands about like a puppeteer controlling invisible strings. “We go to one store for armor, oui, but zen it is ‘Oh, we need more gear!’ and ‘Oh, let’s get more supplies!’ and ‘Oh, zis dagger is not sharp enough!’”
She placed her hands on her hips, trying to lower her voice in an impression of Ayla. “‘We must be prepared for battle at all times,’” Poca mocked, her accent thickening as she play-acted Ayla’s serious tone. “‘No resting until we have everything we need.’”
Ayla crossed her arms over her chest, watching the performance with an amused expression. “I don’t sound like that,” she said, though the small smirk on her face suggested that even she wasn’t convinced.
“Oh, mais oui, you do!” Poca exclaimed, throwing herself back onto the bed in an exaggerated motion, her hand pressed to her forehead in mock exhaustion. “I need Paola now, s’il vous plaît!” She rolled onto her side, reaching out toward Paola as though she were pleading for rescue. “I need her to lie wiz me for just a bit. I need her for ze energy to get up and continue.”
Paola couldn’t help but laugh, watching Poca’s antics with growing amusement. Poca’s wide, mismatched eyes were looking up at her with such exaggerated desperation that it was hard not to feel a little sympathy. The farm girl had been dragged around all day, after all.
Ayla shook her head, her smile widening. “It wasn’t that bad,” she said, trying to defend herself, though even she couldn’t completely deny Poca’s complaints. “We just need to be ready for the journey back to Valarian. You know how dangerous the roads are. Supplies are important.”
Poca sat up again, her arms flopping down onto the bed as she rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, oui, ‘Supplies are important.’” She puffed out her chest, once again mimicking Ayla’s serious stance before falling back against the pillow with a loud sigh. “But what about me, hmm? Too many stores! Trop! Too many swords, too much armor. I am only one woman!”
Paola, who had been silently giggling behind her hand, stepped over to the bed and sat down beside Poca. “Well, you’ve certainly earned your rest,” she said with a grin. “Sounds like Ayla really put you through the wringer today.”
“Oh, you ‘ave no idea,” Poca replied with a dramatic groan, flopping onto her stomach and burying her face in the blankets. Her voice was muffled as she added, “I deserve a medal. Non, deux medals!”
Ayla laughed, shaking her head as she gave Paola a small nudge toward Poca. “Go on. She’s clearly suffering,” Ayla said with mock seriousness, her tone teasing. “It’s only fair you give her a little comfort.”
Paola grinned, rolling her eyes playfully before she reached over, gently tugging on Poca’s arm. “All right, all right. Come on, scoot over,” she said as Poca made room for her on the bed. Paola stretched out beside her, and Poca immediately curled into her, throwing an arm around Paola’s waist.
“Merci, ma chérie,” Poca murmured, her voice soft and content now that she had Paola by her side. “Zis is better. Much better.”
Ayla watched the two of them, her eyes warm with affection. She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest as she shook her head in amusement. “You two are ridiculous,” she said with a smile.
Poca, her head resting comfortably on Paola’s shoulder, glanced up at Ayla with a playful smirk. “And you, mon amour, are a slave driver. Zat’s why I was trying to sleep.”
Ayla snorted, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. “It wasn’t that bad, Poca,” she said with a chuckle. “We only went to a few shops.”
“A few?!” Poca exclaimed, sitting up slightly as she raised an eyebrow at Ayla. “We went to ten, at least. I lost count after ze seventh gear shop. I zought I was going to die.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Ayla teased, though she gave Paola a small nod, silently acknowledging that maybe, she gave a regretful shrug, she had pushed Poca a little hard today.
Poca, never one to pass up an opportunity for theatrics, placed a hand to her forehead and fell back onto the bed again. “Je suis épuisée!” she declared, her voice heavy with mock exhaustion. “Too many stores. Too many weapons. I cannot go on.” She glanced up at Paola with wide eyes, as though hoping for further sympathy.
Paola, laughing softly, patted Poca’s arm. “Poor thing,” she said, shaking her head. “Maybe you’ll feel better after a nap.”
“I need more zan a nap, I need you,” Poca replied, nuzzling into Paola’s side. “I need your energy, Paola! Zen I can get up again.”
Ayla let out a soft laugh, reaching over to poke Poca in the ribs. “You’re hopeless.”
“I am exhausted!” Poca protested, swatting Ayla’s hand away. “You do zis to me!”
Ayla just chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, we do need to be ready for the way back to Valarian,” she said, her tone more serious now. “The roads are dangerous, and I want us to be fully prepared before we leave.”
At the mention of Valarian, Paola winced, her eyes widening as she realized something. “Oh… um…” She hesitated, glancing between Ayla and Poca. “I might have forgotten to tell you both something.”
Ayla raised an eyebrow, her mismatched eyes narrowing slightly. “What is it?”
Paola scratched the back of her head, her tail swishing nervously behind her. “Well… we have a meeting. At the Arcane Forge.”
Both Ayla and Poca turned to look at her, surprise written across their faces.
“A meeting?” Ayla repeated, her voice full of confusion. “At the Arcane Forge?”
Paola nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah… and it’s, uh… soon. Like, very soon.”
Poca sat up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Mais non! How soon? Like… soon, soon?”
Paola glanced out the window at the dimming sky. The sun hadn’t set yet, but it was close. “Well… it’s supposed to be before nightfall,” she said, cringing slightly. “So… yeah. Soon.”
There was a brief moment of silence as all three of them processed the information. Then, as if on cue, Ayla and Poca both groaned loudly, their exasperation clear.
“Oh, great,” Ayla muttered, rubbing her temples. “We’re never going to make it in time.”
Poca, ever the optimist, gave them both a bright, cheery smile. “Mais non, don’t worry!” she said, hopping out of bed with renewed energy. “We will get zere in no time at all! Pas de problème!”
Paola and Ayla exchanged a look, both of them raising their eyebrows in silent understanding. They had been through this before. Whenever Poca was the one to lead the way, they always ended up… well, somewhere. It was just never where they intended to go.
“Poca,” Paola began, her voice hesitant. “You do remember what happened last time you led us anywhere, right?”
Poca waved a hand dismissively, already grabbing her things and tossing them into a bag with careless abandon. “Oui, oui, but zat was different! Zis time, I know where we are going!”
Ayla snorted. “Last time, you said we’d be at the market by midday, and we didn’t get there until after sunset. And it wasn’t even the right market.”
Poca pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Zat was one time.”
“It’s every time,” Paola said with a grin, though her tone was light and teasing.
Poca huffed, her pout deepening. “I will get us zere zis time. I promise! By sunset, exactement!”
Paola and Ayla both groaned again, already anticipating the long, meandering journey that awaited them.
“If we let you lead, we’ll end up there by sunrise,” Paola joked, her golden-flecked eyes sparkling with amusement.
Ayla nodded in agreement, chuckling softly. “Or we’ll end up in an entirely different city.”
Poca threw her hands up in mock offense. “You ‘ave no faith in me, mes amours! None! Zis is a tragedy!” She placed a hand over her heart, feigning hurt, though the playful grin on her face betrayed her true feelings.
Paola laughed, shaking her head as she stood from the bed, stretching her arms above her head. “All right, all right,” she said, her tone light. “Let’s just get moving before we miss this meeting entirely.”
Ayla nodded, gathering her own things as she stood up as well. “Agreed. We don’t have much time.”
Poca, her earlier exhaustion seemingly forgotten, bounced toward the door, her energy renewed. “Do not worry! I will get us zere! Follow me, and we will arrive exactly on time!”
Paola and Ayla shared one last look, both of them grinning as they followed Poca out of the room. They knew the journey would probably take twice as long as it needed to, and they’d likely get turned around more than once—but in the end, they didn’t really mind. After all, with Poca leading the way, every trip ended where they needed to go... eventually.