Paola grunted as she pushed against Oso’s weight, his soft sandy fur brushing against her bare arms as he sprawled lazily across her chest. “Oso, you big lump,” she muttered, her golden-flecked brown eyes narrowing in mock annoyance as the young Chaos Cub’s tongue lolled out of his mouth. He panted heavily, his enormous paws draped over her shoulders, the black and purple tips of his fur glinting faintly in the early light. She shifted beneath him, realizing just how strong she had become in her time here—after all, she was wrestling a creature that could easily crush an ordinary person.
Oso gave a contented huff, his breath warm and a little slobbery on Paola’s face as he wriggled in closer, completely unaware of his size. Despite her mild irritation, Paola smiled softly. He was still young, still a cub, and in so many ways, he was just as new to this world as she was. They had both been thrust into a strange existence in Udanara, and in that sense, Oso was more than just her familiar—he was a companion, someone who shared her experience of being uprooted and thrown into a world filled with danger and wonder.
The sky was still a deep shade of blue, the faintest traces of dawn just beginning to creep over the horizon, casting long shadows over the landscape outside Windmere's walls. Paola had slipped out of the inn before the others had woken up to spend some time with Oso and Carter, both of whom had been left outside the city because, well… Oso was a little *too much* for most people to handle. His size and energy made him difficult to contain, even as a cub, and Paola didn’t want to cause more chaos inside Windmere’s already bustling streets.
Poca had joked earlier about taking Oso to her small farm outside Valarian and putting him to work. The thought had made Paola chuckle, but now, wrestling with Oso in the early morning light, she wondered if the bear cub would ever calm down enough for such a life.
“Oso,” she murmured, patting his side as he finally rolled off her, his massive form flopping onto the soft grass with a satisfied grunt. She sat up, brushing bits of dirt from her cloak, and glanced over at the wagon where Carter stood, leaning against it like a silent sentinel. His grin—forever too wide, forever a little unsettling—seemed to stretch even further in the low light. His hollow, carved-out eyes were fixed on the horizon, always watching, always protecting. His new body was sturdier than the last, made of finer wood, the joints smoother and more refined. Despite his eerie appearance, Carter was dependable, a constant presence that gave Paola an odd sense of security.
Paola stood and stretched, feeling the early morning chill nip at her skin. She glanced toward the inn, wondering if the others had woken up yet. They needed to head back to the Arcane Forge to use the portal that would take them to Valarian, and after everything that had happened recently, Paola was looking forward to the quiet, familiar comforts of their home in the city.
As if on cue, Poca emerged from the inn’s entrance, her energy already in full force despite the early hour. Her blue skin seemed to shimmer in the soft dawn light, her mismatched green and purple eyes bright as she practically skipped toward Paola. “*Bonjour!*” she called cheerily, flashing a wide grin as she approached. “Are you ready to head back to Valarian?”
Paola chuckled. “I suppose. Though I’m still half-asleep.”
Poca giggled, patting Paola on the back. “Zat is because you spent all night wrestling zat beast!” She glanced over at Oso, who was now rolling lazily in the grass, clearly unbothered by the world around him. “I’m telling you, *ma chérie*, you should bring ‘im to my farm. I’ll put ‘im to work!”
Paola rolled her eyes but smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d be real helpful.”
By then, Ayla had emerged from the inn as well, though her demeanor was far quieter than usual. Her long blonde braids fell over her shoulders, and her mismatched red and blue eyes seemed clouded with something—perhaps exhaustion, perhaps something else. She was dressed in her Dragon Guard armor, the black, Damascus-steel-like material glinting faintly in the morning light. The armor covered more of her than it had before, leaving only her midriff and neck exposed, and the crisscrossing mithralite chains added a certain elegance to her otherwise fierce appearance. Yet despite her formidable look, there was a softness in the way she moved, a sense of weariness that Paola hadn’t seen before.
“You okay, Ayla?” Paola asked as she approached, concern in her voice.
Ayla nodded, though she didn’t quite meet Paola’s gaze. “Just didn’t sleep well. That’s all.”
Paola frowned slightly but decided not to press. She had seen Ayla like this before—quiet, introspective. Sometimes, the weight of their battles lingered longer for Ayla than it did for the others.
Yasmin appeared next, her fiery hair as wild as ever, though her usual vibrant energy seemed dimmed this morning. She rubbed her eyes and stretched as she joined them by the wagon, her amber eyes looking somewhat groggy. “Ugh, mornings are the worst,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “I’m more of an evening explosion kind of person, you know?”
Paola grinned. “Didn’t peg you for a morning person, Yasmin.”
Yasmin scoffed. “Please. Mornings are for planning chaos, not living it.” She threw herself into the back of the wagon with a dramatic sigh, pulling her cloak around her as if shielding herself from the sun that hadn’t even risen yet.
As they all gathered by the wagon, Carter took his place at the front, his stiff wooden form moving with surprising fluidity as he clambered up to take the reins of the oxen alongside Poca. Paola, Ayla, and Yasmin climbed into the back, settling in for the short ride back to the Arcane Forge.
It wasn’t just Ayla who seemed unusually quiet—Yasmin, too, was far less talkative than normal, leaning back against the side of the wagon with her eyes half-closed. Paola couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. Maybe Yasmin really wasn’t a morning person after all.
The wagon creaked as it began to move, the oxen pulling them steadily along the cobblestone path. The rhythmic clop of hooves and the faint jingling of the harnesses filled the silence, and for a while, they traveled in a comfortable lull. Paola glanced over at Ayla, who was staring out at the fields beyond Windmere, her expression distant. She reached out, gently brushing Ayla’s hand with her fingers, and though Ayla didn’t say anything, she gave Paola’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
They passed the outskirts of Windmere, the city slowly disappearing behind them as they followed the familiar road to the Arcane Forge. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long golden beams across the landscape, the light catching on the dew that clung to the grass and leaves. It was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos they had faced in recent days.
Poca, sitting at the front of the wagon, was humming softly to herself, her usual boundless energy somewhat subdued by the early hour. She guided the oxen with gentle, practiced hands, her mismatched eyes scanning the road ahead.
Paola leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment, the gentle sway of the wagon lulling her into a state of half-awareness. She could hear Yasmin’s soft breathing next to her, the fiery-haired magist clearly on the edge of sleep. Oso, curled up at Paola’s feet, snuffled contentedly in his sleep, his massive body taking up more space than it should have, but Paola didn’t mind.
Carter, ever the silent guardian, sat upright at the front of the wagon, his wide grin fixed in place as always. Paola glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and this time, instead of the usual unease, she found herself smiling a little. His grin had grown on her over time. It was part of what made Carter Carter, and in a way, it was comforting. He was always there, always smiling, always watching over them.
Paola leaned closer to Ayla, nudging her gently. “You know, Carter’s grin... it’s kind of endearing, isn’t it?”
Ayla, her gaze still on the horizon, raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Endearing? You’re changing your tune.”
Paola shrugged, her smile soft. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it. He’s always looking out for us, no matter what. That smile... it’s like his way of saying everything’s going to be okay.”
From the front of the wagon, Poca, who had clearly been eavesdropping, turned to flash a triumphant grin of her own. “Ah-ha! I knew you’d come around, Paola. Carter’s smile is perfect! It’s like he’s always zere for us, even when we don’t know we need him.”
Paola chuckled, feeling warmth spread through her chest. “Yeah, you’re right, Poca. He’s always been there, hasn’t he?”
Ayla, who had been quiet for most of the trip, finally spoke, her voice thoughtful. “It’s kind of like... he’s a part of us now. A silent protector.”
The group fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the gentle creak of the wagon and the rhythmic clop of the oxen’s hooves the only sounds filling the air. Paola leaned back, her golden-flecked eyes resting on Carter’s wooden form. The way the light filtered through the trees gave his figure a warm glow, and for the first time, Paola felt a deep appreciation for him—not just as a magical puppet, but as someone who had become a friend. He was always there, watching over them, his ever-present smile a quiet reassurance.
Poca couldn’t help but add in her usual enthusiastic tone, “You know, Carter may not talk, but he doesn’t ‘ave to. I always know what ‘e’s thinking.”
Yasmin, who had been dozing off in the back, cracked one eye open, grinning sleepily. “I’m sure you do, Poca.”
Paola smirked, leaning forward to catch Poca’s eye. “And what’s he thinking now?”
Poca beamed, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “He’s thinking ‘Poca is ze best driver and friend ever. I am so lucky to know ‘er.’”
Paola laughed, shaking her head. “Of course, he is.”
Despite the playful banter, the ride remained peaceful, the landscape rolling by as the sun slowly climbed higher in the sky. And true to her word, Yasmin—who had taken charge of navigating—managed to get them back to the Arcane Forge without a single wrong turn.
As they arrived at the grand gates of the Forge, Paola stretched, feeling the stiffness in her muscles begin to melt away. The Forge loomed ahead, its towering spires gleaming in the morning light, and Paola couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.
Yasmin hopped out of the wagon with renewed energy, her morning grogginess apparently forgotten as she stretched her arms overhead. “See? I told you I’d get us here with no problems!” she said proudly, flashing them a triumphant grin.
Paola laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, I’ll give you that. You didn’t get us lost. But let’s see if we make it through the portal without any explosions.”
Yasmin smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “No promises.”
The group made their way through the grand halls of the Arcane Forge, the ancient stone walls adorned with intricate tapestries and glowing sigils that pulsed faintly with magic. The air was filled with the familiar hum of arcane energy, a reminder of the power this place held. Paola walked beside Ayla and Poca, Oso padding alongside them, his massive form lumbering with each step. Yasmin, surprisingly composed for once, trailed behind, her fingers lightly tracing the runes on the walls as they moved through the corridor.
As they approached the central hall, the towering figure of Master Draslyn appeared, stepping out of a side chamber as if he had been waiting for them. His dark eyes, sharp and all-seeing, flickered with amusement as he took in the sight of the group.
"Ah, just the people I was hoping to run into before you left," Draslyn said, his deep voice carrying a note of warmth. He looked them over, his gaze settling on Yasmin for a moment before shifting back to Paola. "I wanted to wish you all safety in your future endeavors. The Arcane Forge will always be open to having you in our guild, should you ever want a more permanent home here.”
Paola smiled, feeling a slight warmth in her chest at his words. “Thank you, Master Draslyn. We appreciate the offer.”
Draslyn turned his attention to Yasmin, his lips twitching into a smirk. "And Yasmin... try to return to us without blowing up anything that shouldn't be blown up."
Yasmin crossed her arms, her fiery hair glowing in the light of the Forge. "I'll try, but no promises," she said with a mischievous wink.
Draslyn shook his head, but there was a hint of fondness in his expression. “Stay safe, all of you.”
With that, Draslyn nodded and turned away, leaving the group to continue their journey through the Arcane Forge. They passed through a set of towering archways, entering an open courtyard where the portal stood, glowing faintly in the early morning light. The courtyard was wide and open, the sky above now a pale blue as the sun crept higher, casting soft shadows across the stone.
To Paola’s surprise, standing near the portal with her hands tucked into the pockets of her black and light blue robes, was Selene. Her silver-white hair, shaved on one side and falling in soft waves over the other, glowed in the daylight. The robes she wore were unmistakable—black with light blue trimming, the insignia of the Cathedral of the Leviathan sewn into the fabric. She leaned against the portal’s archway with a half-smile on her lips, her eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression as the group approached.
Paola blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected to see Selene here. Before she could say anything, Selene raised her hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m not stalking you,” she said quickly, her voice light with amusement. “I heard there was a group portaling back to Valarian and... well, I was offered a free ride.”
Paola’s surprise melted into a cautious smile, but her mind raced. She hadn’t had the chance to talk to Poca about Selene yet—not after everything that had happened. As her gaze flickered to Poca, she saw the strange, tense stare down happening between her and Selene. Poca’s mismatched green and purple eyes were narrowed, scrutinizing Selene with a seriousness Paola wasn’t used to seeing.
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Selene, to her credit, held Poca’s gaze steadily. “I’m... sorry,” she said, her voice softer now. “For everything. I didn’t expect to see you here, but I figured I owed you more than just words.”
Poca’s lips twitched, and for a moment, Paola thought she might snap back at Selene, but instead, Poca let out a short, almost forced laugh. Paola raised an eyebrow, surprised at the tension.
Poca, ever straightforward, crossed her arms and fixed Selene with a hard stare. “You ‘ave a lot to do if you want to earn my trust back,” she said, her voice firm. But as she spoke, there was a small, reluctant smile creeping onto her face, betraying her words.
Paola watched with growing curiosity. Poca’s heart was big—too big, sometimes. Paola knew, despite the harshness of Poca’s words, she would eventually forgive Selene. That was who Poca was.
Selene seemed to pick up on this as well, and she gave a nod, taking the olive branch Poca offered. “I’ll work on it,” she said sincerely. “In fact... how about I work on your farm? For free. For as long as it takes.”
Poca blinked in surprise, her eyes wide as she considered Selene’s offer. Then, to everyone’s shock, it was Ayla who laughed—a rare, genuine laugh that lit up her face. “Well, now that’s a deal I’d like to see.”
Paola, still processing the strangeness of the scene, couldn’t help but smile too. Selene, working on Poca’s farm? The idea was almost absurd, but then again, stranger things had happened.
As the conversation died down, Paola stepped back, looking at the portal before them. It was an arched gateway, glowing with a soft, ethereal light that reminded her of the Echo Gates leading into the Grove of Echos. Yet, unlike those, this portal wasn’t just going to take her across a small part of the world. This was going to take her all the way to Valarian.
“Paola, you’re up first,” Yasmin said, grinning as she stepped toward the portal. “Or are you too nervous?”
Paola shook her head quickly. “No... it’s just, I’ve never done long-distance portaling before. I... I want to be the last one to go through.”
Yasmin raised an eyebrow, clearly curious, but she shrugged and stepped through the glowing arch without hesitation. There was a brief flash, and she was gone.
One by one, Ayla, Poca, Selene, and even Carter passed through the portal, leaving Paola alone in the courtyard. She stared at the archway, her mind swirling with thoughts of everything that had happened to get her here—to Windmere, to this moment. And now, after all the chaos, it was going to be a single step to take her back to Valarian. It felt surreal.
Paola looked down at her feet, her heart racing. She lifted her foot hesitantly, as if testing the water with her toe. The moment her foot touched the portal’s glowing surface, it was as though the world shifted, pulling her in. She didn’t have a choice—her body followed.
There was no sensation of being ripped through space or of the world around her dissolving. Instead, it was like being submerged in water—soft, cool, and fluid. The world around her became muffled, her senses dulled as she floated through the in-between space, time itself seeming to stretch and compress in equal measure. She felt weightless, disconnected from the ground and the sky, like she was drifting through a dream where everything was both familiar and strange.
Colors and sounds ebbed and flowed around her, but they were distant, as though she were hearing them from behind a thick curtain. Her mind wandered freely, untethered, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if she was still moving or if she had stopped entirely. The sensation wasn’t uncomfortable—just disorienting. She wasn’t moving through space; space was moving around her, guiding her gently toward her destination.
And then, as quickly as it had started, the sensation shifted. Her feet touched solid ground, and the muffled world faded away. Paola blinked, feeling the cool breeze of Valarian against her skin. She was standing just outside the city walls, the towering stone structures of Valarian looming in the distance.
Poca’s wagon was there, the oxen huffing softly, and Oso bounded over to her, nudging her with his massive head. Paola laughed, ruffling the fur on his neck, relieved to see him.
The others were already waiting, their expressions varied—Ayla looked calm, Yasmin had a mischievous grin, and Poca was chatting animatedly with Selene, who had an odd but sincere look on her face as she listened.
Paola stood still, her toes curling into the strange blend of sand and grass beneath her feet. The field stretched around them, the warm morning air carrying a gentle breeze that kissed her skin. But it wasn’t the land or the sky that captivated her—it was the massive ribs, those towering ancient bones that arched overhead, impossibly large and majestic, stretching like great, protective fingers toward the heavens. They loomed over Valarian, part of the city’s skyline yet entirely apart from it, shimmering faintly with a magic that was as old as the world itself.
She had forgotten how awe-inspiring the Leviathan’s Ribcage was. Having only seen it once before, when she first arrived in Udanara with Ayla, it had been a whirlwind of emotions—fear, confusion, survival. Now, standing there again, she could finally take it all in. The sheer magnitude of the bones, the way they seemed to pulse with life even though they were lifeless remains. The ribs felt both eternal and ghostly, a reminder of a past far older than any civilization in Udanara.
Above the city, airships drifted lazily through the sky, their sails billowing, glinting in the sunlight. Some were large, majestic vessels, the pride of the wealthy elite, while others were more rugged, worn-down cargo ships bringing goods into the city. It was surreal to see them float so effortlessly between the ribs of the Leviathan, as if it was all part of some grand, mystical ecosystem. Paola’s chest swelled with a strange mix of wonder and longing. She had lived on Earth, a world so different, yet here, in the heart of Valarian, it felt as though she had stepped into a realm of dreams.
The Leviathan’s ribs curved overhead like the remains of some colossal creature that had once ruled the earth, its presence still felt even in death. And under those bones, the grand city of Valarian sprawled, both beautiful and harsh—a place where magic, wealth, and history collided in an intricate dance. Paola had been standing there for what felt like hours, lost in her thoughts, her eyes tracing the ribs, the floating ships, the towers that seemed to grow out of the bones themselves.
“Paola.”
Ayla’s voice broke through her reverie, gently pulling her back to reality. Paola blinked, realizing how long she had been standing there, staring up at the sky. She turned her head and saw Ayla standing a few paces away, her mismatched eyes—one red, one blue—watching her with a mix of amusement and understanding.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Ayla said softly, glancing up at the ribs herself. There was a calmness in her tone, the kind of quiet reflection that came from someone who had seen this sight many times but still felt its weight. "Every time I come back to Valarian, it takes me a moment too."
Paola nodded, her voice still caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. “It’s like... stepping into a dream,” she murmured. “No matter how much I’ve seen, this... it’s like seeing it for the first time, all over again.”
Ayla smiled softly, her blonde braids catching the sunlight. “Yeah. It has that effect on people. You get used to it, but it never loses its power.”
Paola’s gaze flicked back up to the ribs, then to the airships above, their shadows cast like fleeting whispers on the ground below. “I almost forgot how incredible this place is,” she admitted, her voice trailing off.
Ayla stepped closer, her armor clinking softly as she moved, her eyes now focused on Paola. “I didn’t want to distract you earlier, but there’s something you should know.”
Paola turned to her, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”
“The Festival of Breath is next week,” Ayla said, her voice steady, though Paola caught the hint of something behind her words. “It’s been on my mind.”
Paola blinked in surprise. The Festival of Breath—the grand celebration of the Leviathan’s last breath, the breath that was said to have brought life and magic to the Seracian Sands. She had heard of it, but the idea of being in Valarian during such an event had never crossed her mind. It was a festival of grand parades, magical displays, and endless celebration, but also a time of political maneuvering and secret power plays among the city’s elite.
“That’s what’s been on your mind?” Paola asked, glancing at Ayla.
Ayla nodded, her gaze shifting toward the wagon where Carter was already guiding the oxen back onto the road. Poca was busy helping him, her usual animated self chattering away with Selene, who seemed to be listening, a slight smile tugging at her lips.
“Yeah,” Ayla said quietly. “There’s more going on during the festival than just celebrations. It’s also a time when people make moves—politically, personally. Lady Marcelline will be involved, and that means we will be too.”
Paola raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a plan?”
Ayla gave a small, almost secretive smile. “Let’s just say, there are some things we need to keep an eye on. I’ll explain more on the way back into the city.”
Paola’s curiosity deepened, but she trusted Ayla. If she had a plan, it would come together in time. She glanced at the road, where the rest of the group had already started moving. “I guess we should catch up then,” Paola said with a grin.
Ayla nodded, gesturing toward the wagon. “Come on, let’s get going.”
Paola and Ayla jogged back up to the cart, their feet crunching softly on the sandy grass as they caught up to the rest of the group. With a quick leap, they hopped into the back of the wagon, settling in as the oxen plodded along the dusty road toward Valarian. Inside the cart, Yasmin was animated, her fiery hair bouncing as she spoke, her usual vibrant energy lighting up the space.
“So, that’s why I’m here!” Yasmin was saying, gesturing wildly as she leaned forward. “I’ll be looking for my sister. Figured Valarian was as good a place as any to start. She’s... well, let’s just say she’s tricky to track down.” Yasmin’s smile widened as she playfully nudged Poca. “But while I’m at it, I was thinking, why not take a little detour and check out your farm? You know, see what all the fuss is about! I’ve got all the time in the world, after all.”
Poca chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, non non, you will not be turning my little garden into a pile of ash, Yasmin. I like it the way it is—no explosions, no chaos.”
Yasmin laughed, leaning back. “Who, me? I’m perfectly well-behaved when I want to be.”
Paola forced a smile as she listened to the banter. But beneath her outward calm, something much more serious gnawed at her. The time had come. She had been putting it off, but she couldn’t delay it anymore. Her heart raced in her chest as she glanced between her two girlfriends—Ayla and Poca—unsure of how to even begin the conversation.
Ayla must have sensed her hesitation because, in a rare moment of taking the lead in such conversations, she leaned forward and gently filled the silence that had fallen over the wagon. “Paola, we need to talk,” she said softly, her voice steady yet warm. Her mismatched red and blue eyes met Paola’s, and there was a deep understanding in them.
Paola’s breath hitched, but before she could speak, Ayla continued, her tone measured. “I’ve been thinking about what’s ahead... about everything that’s happening in Valarian. Lady Marcelline will be expecting us to return, and with the Festival of Breath coming up, it’s going to be... complicated.”
Paola’s chest tightened as she nodded slowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Ayla gave her a half-smile, the kind of smile that said she already knew what Paola was feeling. “I think,” she began, glancing at Poca before continuing, “it would be best if you went with Poca for a little while. Stayed at her farm until... well, until I’ve had a chance to talk to Lady Marcelline. I don’t want you caught up in anything... risky, not until I know it’s safe.”
Paola blinked, the words sinking in slowly. She hadn’t expected Ayla to already have a plan in place, and the thought of separating—of not being there with Ayla—hit her like a wave. But even as the panic started to rise, Paola knew that Ayla was right. Lady Marcelline’s dealings were dangerous, and if Ayla was concerned, it meant things were more complicated than Paola had anticipated.
Before she could stop herself, Paola dropped to her knees in the wagon, her body moving instinctively toward Ayla. She wrapped her arms around the armored woman, pressing her face into Ayla’s chest, feeling the cool, hard edges of her armor against her skin. Paola’s fingers found their way between the crisscrossing mithralite chains to the warm, soft skin of Ayla’s back, her grip tight and desperate.
“I’ll do it,” Paola whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “I’ll stay with Poca. But... don’t take too long. Please.”
Ayla’s hand came down gently, stroking Paola’s head, her touch both comforting and protective. “I won’t,” she promised, her voice low. “I just want to make sure everything’s... right before you come back. I’ll know where to find you.”
Paola nodded into her chest, the warmth of Ayla’s presence grounding her in the moment. She felt Poca’s soft hand resting on her shoulder, a gesture of solidarity and comfort. Poca, ever the optimistic and kind-hearted one, didn’t say anything, but her smile was reassuring in its own quiet way.
As the wagon rolled along, Paola held onto Ayla, her thoughts a tangle of emotions. She trusted Ayla—more than anyone—but the idea of being separated, even for a short while, made her heart ache. Still, she knew this was necessary. The stakes were high, and with the Festival of Breath looming, they had to be careful.
Finally, Paola lifted her head, looking up at Ayla with a soft, teary smile. “Just... don’t leave me hanging, okay?”
Ayla’s eyes softened, and she leaned down to press a kiss to Paola’s forehead. “I won’t,” she whispered. “I promise.”
Paola slowly released her hold, sitting back on her heels as she turned to Poca, who was watching the exchange with a quiet, knowing smile. Poca’s mismatched eyes glimmered with something playful as she spoke up, her thick accent wrapping around her words. “Well, zat settles it, ma chérie. You’ll come with me, and we’ll make sure Oso ‘as plenty of work to do at ze farm.”
Paola couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension in her chest easing a little. “I’m sure he’ll love it,” she replied, grateful for Poca’s ability to lighten the mood, even in serious moments.
Yasmin, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, suddenly perked up, her usual playful tone taking on a slightly pleading edge as she leaned toward Poca. "Come on, Poca, you have to let me come visit your farm. I mean, think about it—I can help with the crops, maybe throw in some, uh, magical touches to your garden. It’ll be fun, I swear!"
Poca narrowed her eyes suspiciously, leaning back as she gave Yasmin a long, measured look. "You’re much more eager now zat you know Paola’s going to be there," she said, her tone teasing but sharp.
To everyone’s surprise, Yasmin let out a small, high-pitched peep as if she'd been caught in the act. Her face instantly flushed a deep shade of red, and she quickly looked away, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “I-I mean, I just thought it’d be nice, you know? All of us together...”
A tense silence filled the wagon, and slowly, all eyes turned toward Paola, except for Yasmin’s. Paola’s golden-flecked catlike eyes darted around, her heart racing as she felt the weight of everyone's gaze. She could feel the warmth creeping up her neck, her ears flattening against her head as she, too, turned beet red.
Ayla raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, while Poca’s grin widened into something almost wicked. “Ahhh, je vois,” Poca said, smirking. “It seems our fiery Yasmin ‘as a bit of a soft spot for our Paola, non?”
Paola’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out as her blush deepened, her mind racing. She hadn’t even considered it before, but the way Yasmin had been acting—her teasing, her playful energy, her sudden awkwardness—was now painfully clear. Yasmin... might have a thing for her.
Ayla’s lips twitched into a smirk, and she leaned in closer to Paola, whispering in a mock-serious tone, “Should I be worried?”
Paola’s cheeks burned even hotter as she tried to stammer out a response, her eyes still flicking between Yasmin and her girlfriends. “I-I didn’t... I mean... this isn’t—”
Before she could finish, Yasmin, now redder than ever, waved her hands frantically. “It’s not like that! I mean, yes, Paola’s... amazing and beautiful, obviously, but I didn’t mean—ugh!” She buried her face in her hands, mortified by her own confession. "This is coming out all wrong."
Poca burst out laughing, the sound full of delight as she clapped her hands together. “Oh, zis is too good! You are making zis far too easy, Yasmin!”
Paola, still blushing furiously, shot Poca a half-hearted glare, though it quickly crumbled under the weight of the moment. She couldn’t help but laugh softly, her embarrassment fading into something lighter as she glanced at Yasmin, who was still hiding behind her hands.
“Yasmin...” Paola said gently, her voice soft. “It’s okay.”
Yasmin peeked through her fingers, her amber eyes still wide with embarrassment. “Really?” she mumbled, clearly mortified but also hopeful.
Paola smiled, her golden eyes warm and reassuring. “Yeah, really. It’s flattering, honestly. I didn’t expect it... but it’s not a bad thing.”
Ayla chuckled, her arms crossing over her armored chest as she watched the exchange. “It’s not like we didn’t already know Yasmin had a soft spot for chaos.”
Yasmin groaned, burying her face deeper into her hands. "Oh gods, you're all not going to let this go, huh?"
Poca, wiping a tear from her eye, shook her head with a grin. "Non, definitely not. But... I suppose you can come visit my farm," she added with a playful wink. "As long as you promise not to blow anything up—or flirt too much with Paola."
Yasmin peeked out again, her face still flushed but a smile starting to form at the edges of her lips. "Deal. I’ll be on my best behavior."
Paola, still feeling the heat in her cheeks, sighed but couldn’t help grinning. This was her life now—chaos, awkward confessions, and a strange but loving group of people who made every moment unpredictable, but full of heart. As she settled back in the wagon, her eyes caught Yasmin’s again, and they shared a brief, soft smile before looking away.