Poca stood by the window of her cozy little home, watching the sky turn a deep amber as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Her mismatched eyes reflected the fading light, but her thoughts were elsewhere—on the woman sitting across from her, the one she shouldn’t have allowed back into her life so easily. Selene, with her silvery hair and dark, worn-down expression, sat at the table with her raspy voice carrying the weight of their complicated history.

Poca hadn’t expected this moment, not here, not now. It had been a whirlwind of emotions ever since Selene reappeared. Poca had thought she was past the betrayal—past the anger. But as she watched Selene, a mix of emotions swirled inside her. She shouldn’t forgive so easily, and yet, here they were.

"I don’t know if I can do this, Poca." Selene’s voice broke through Poca’s thoughts, soft and raw. "Coming back here... It feels wrong, like I don’t deserve to be here. Especially after everything I did."

Poca turned toward her, arms crossed, but her gaze softened as she saw the vulnerability in Selene’s face. Her expression wasn’t guarded or defiant, as it often had been. She looked like she was drowning in her own guilt, and Poca, despite everything, couldn’t help but feel that pull in her chest—the desire to comfort, to forgive, to move on.

"I didn’t expect you to," Poca admitted, her voice quieter than usual, though still laced with her natural energy. "After you stole zat feather from me, I... I was hurt, Selene. I trusted you."

Selene winced, her fingers tightening into fists as she lowered her gaze. "I know. I knew it was wrong when I did it. But at the time, I convinced myself I had no choice. You were... you were so kind to me, and I threw that kindness back in your face. I felt like every bad thing that happened after I left was the universe punishing me for betraying you."

Poca let out a sigh, leaning back against the window frame. "I didn’t even realize it was gone for a while," she admitted, surprising even herself. "I thought I had misplaced it, didn't even think twice about it. Ze truth is... I didn’t want to believe zat you had taken it. Not after ze time we spent together here." Poca glanced to Selene's mithralite arm.

Selene glanced up, a mix of shame and relief washing over her features. "You don’t know how many times I wanted to come back, just to fix what I did. To stay here, away from all the... chaos. Away from the underworld, the politics, the scheming, the... death. I don’t want to be dangerous anymore, Poca. I don’t want that life."

Poca’s heart clenched at Selene’s words, and she found herself walking over to the table, standing just a few feet from her. She had always had a soft spot for broken things—her puppetry was proof of that. She could mend, restore, and breathe life into the lifeless. But with people... it was different. Or was it?

Poca glanced out the window again, at the fields she had worked so hard to maintain. The garden, the peace of this place—it was everything Selene had once tasted and, it seemed, everything she now craved. And as much as Poca wanted to hold onto the hurt, to keep her guard up, she just couldn’t do it. Not with Selene sitting there, looking so lost.

"Selene," Poca began, her voice softer now, almost tender. "I am not someone who believes in destiny or fate or any of zat nonsense. But I do find it... strange, odd even, zat we found each other again like zis. I didn’t expect to see you, yet here you are."

Selene chuckled lightly, though it was filled with bitterness. "Maybe the universe has a sense of humor. I just wish it wasn’t so cruel about it."

Poca hesitated, the words she was about to say catching in her throat. She shouldn’t forgive Selene so easily—she knew that. She should be firm, set boundaries, make her earn back her trust. But that wasn’t who Poca was. She had always been too forgiving, too soft-hearted, and she knew that now, more than ever.

"You know..." Poca finally said, her voice betraying the conflict inside her. "When I found out about ze feather, I was angry. Furious, really. But time has passed, and seeing you now... I see zat maybe, we are all a little broken. Maybe we all need a second chance."

Selene’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across her face. "You... you really mean that?"

Poca gave a small, hesitant smile, though she still felt the weight of her decision pressing down on her. "Oui. But zat does not mean it will be easy. Trust is fragile, Selene. You broke it, and zat will take time to mend."

Selene nodded slowly, her eyes glistening with what Poca suspected were unshed tears. "I’ll do whatever it takes to earn it back, Poca. I mean that."

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Poca's mind raced, telling her to be cautious, to guard her heart. But her instincts told her to follow her nature, to forgive, to give Selene the chance she was asking for.

"You can start by helping me in ze garden," Poca said finally, her voice brightening slightly. "Zere is much work to be done, and zis place is more than just dirt and plants. It’s about life, about growth. Maybe zat’s what you need, too."

Selene’s lips curved into a small, tentative smile, and she nodded. "I’d like that. I’d like that a lot."

Poca’s heart softened further, and she couldn’t help but smile back, even though a part of her still told her this might be a mistake. But she ignored that voice for now. There was something about Selene’s presence, something about the way she had come back into her life, that felt important, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet.

Selene stood as well, her posture more relaxed, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Alright, zen," Poca said, pushing herself up from the table with renewed energy. "We start fresh. But you’re going to have to work hard, ma chère. Zis farm is not for the faint of heart."

"I’m ready for it," she said with a small but determined smile. There was a quiet understanding between them now, a sense that things could truly begin to heal, but Poca knew there was more left unsaid.

As they walked toward the window, Poca’s pace slowed. She turned slightly, her mismatched eyes catching the last light of the day. The conversation wasn’t entirely over. There were still things to be cleared between them, and now that they had reached a new understanding, Poca felt it was time to dig deeper into what had been left unsaid for too long.

The silence lingered for a moment before Poca shifted, her fingers playing absentmindedly with a small tendril of her blue hair. Her mismatched eyes, one a deep green and the other a vibrant purple, flickered with a mixture of emotions. She knew this conversation needed to happen, and now that they were alone, there was no avoiding it. Selene sat across from her, eyes hopeful yet cautious, as if bracing for whatever Poca had to say.

With a half-smile, Poca took a breath. "You know, Selene... the last time we saw each other, before everything happened... I have to admit, I enjoyed having you here, on ze farm. I enjoyed spending time with you. You were a quiet presence, but it felt... peaceful."

Selene nodded, her pale, silver-white hair catching the soft light of the setting sun. Her amethyst eyes were focused intently on Poca, filled with a kind of quiet hope. "I felt that too, Poca," Selene said, her voice raspier than usual. "Being here, away from everything, it was life-changing. You... you gave me something I never thought I could have—a chance to feel at peace."

Poca’s smile grew a little, though there was still a tinge of sadness in her expression. "I was hurt by what you did, Selene. You know zat. But..." She paused, the words heavy in her throat, before she pushed them out. "Zere is some truth you need to know."

Selene tensed slightly, her fingers gripping the edge of the table as though she were bracing herself. "What is it?"

Poca shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes darting around the room before they settled back on Selene. "I suspected, back zen... zat you caught feelings for me. Maybe it was because we were so isolated here, away from ze chaos of Valarian, away from everything. I could see it, even though you never said anything."

Selene blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly as she looked down. She hesitated, but then nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. "I did," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Being here with you... it was different. It was calm, safe. I wasn’t used to that. I didn’t know what to do with those feelings, but... yeah, I did catch feelings."

Poca let out a soft sigh, sitting down across from Selene, leaning on the table. Her fingers drummed lightly against the wood, as though trying to find the right rhythm for the words she needed to say. "Selene, zat means a lot to me. But things... things have changed since zen."

Selene’s eyes flicked up to meet Poca’s, her brow furrowed with concern. "What do you mean?"

Poca paused, choosing her words carefully. "After you left... after everything with Windmere, I met someone. Someone who has come to mean a lot to me."

Selene leaned back slightly, her expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Paola?" she asked quietly, her voice tentative.

Poca nodded, her face softening as she spoke. "Oui, Paola. She and I... we’ve gotten close, very close. Over ze course of our journey to Windmere, after you... well, after you delivered ze dead woman to me, we spent a lot of time together. Zings just... happened."

Selene’s lips parted slightly in surprise, but then she offered a small, hesitant smile. "And you’re happy with her?"

Poca chuckled softly, the sound lightening the tension in the room. "Oh, you could say zat. Paola... she's a force of nature. And along the way, we both caught feelings for each other. And zen zere's Ayla... who Paola is also involved with. By extension, so am I," Poca added with a laugh, shaking her head at the unexpected direction her life had taken.

Selene's brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to wrap her mind around it. "And... that works for you? You’re happy like that?"

Poca could see the genuine curiosity in Selene’s expression, and she didn’t miss the underlying question there—How does this all work?

Poca straightened up, feeling a flicker of protectiveness rise within her. "Oui, it does. And yes, I’m happy. It’s... different, sure. But Paola, Ayla... zey make me happy. Zere’s something so real about ze way we care for each other, ze way we trust each other. We aren’t like ze nobles back in Valarian, scheming behind closed doors. It’s... pure."

Selene stared at her for a long moment, clearly trying to process what Poca had said. But then, her expression softened, and she gave a small nod. "I’m glad, Poca. I really am. You deserve that kind of happiness."

Poca smiled, but her heart felt a little lighter as she realized just how much she cared for Paola—and how deeply she was willing to defend their relationship. "I wasn’t looking for it, you know," Poca added, her voice more playful now. "It just kind of happened, ze way these things do. Paola is... she's like a whirlwind. And I guess I got swept up in it."

Selene chuckled softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "She’s something else, isn’t she?"

"Oui," Poca grinned. "And you know what? I think you’ll get along with her... if you’re not too busy trying to work in my garden."

Selene raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking up into a small smile. "I think I can manage both."

For a moment, they just sat there, the weight of the conversation lifting slightly, the tension between them easing. Poca knew it wasn’t perfect—there were still things to work through, trust to rebuild—but for now, they were on the right path.

Poca leaned back in her chair, her mismatched eyes gleaming with a soft warmth as she looked at Selene. "You know," she said, her voice lighter now, "Paola and Yasmin should be coming back soon. Or, if we hurry, we could join them down by ze river."

Selene’s lips quirked up into a small smile, her mood noticeably lighter. "You think they'd mind us joining them?"

Poca smirked, tilting her head playfully. "Knowing Paola? Not at all. In fact, she might even enjoy ze company."

Selene opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, the front door creaked open, and Poca’s sharp ears caught the sound of voices drifting inside. The unmistakable tone of Yasmin’s laughter filled the air, quickly followed by Paola’s more playful one.

"Speak of ze devils," Poca said with a grin, standing up from her seat just as Yasmin and Paola stepped into the room. Both of them looked slightly damp, their cheeks flushed from the warmth of the bath. Paola's golden-flecked eyes twinkled as she noticed the two women already in the kitchen.

"Oh hey, we were just talking about you two," Poca said cheerfully, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "Enjoy ze bath?"

Paola gave a lopsided grin, her cloak draped loosely over her shoulders. "It was great," she said, nudging Yasmin, who was still a little red in the face. "Yasmin here needed some encouragement, but I think she finally relaxed."

Yasmin scoffed, though her embarrassment was obvious. "Oh, please," she mumbled, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Poca chuckled softly, glancing between them and Selene. "Well, we were just considering coming down to join you, but I guess ze timing worked out perfectly."

Paola's ears flicked slightly as she raised an eyebrow, glancing at Selene, who looked more at ease now. "What were you two talking about?"

"Nothing too serious," Poca said with a casual wave. "Just catching up. But now zat you're back, maybe we can all sit and relax for a bit."

Selene stood as well, brushing off her clothes and offering a small, genuine smile. "Yeah, I think I could use a bit more relaxing after all this." Her voice, though still raspy, sounded lighter now, as if a burden had been lifted.

Paola, noticing the shift in Selene’s demeanor, gave her a friendly smile and gestured toward the hearth. "Come on then, let's warm up a bit more as the sun sets."

As they all gathered together, the atmosphere in the room felt noticeably lighter, a sense of camaraderie settling over them as they began to chat, laughing and sharing stories. For the first time in a while, the tension that had lingered between them was finally starting to ease, and it felt like things were moving in the right direction for once.

***

Ayla’s boots crunched lightly on the stone-paved streets of Valarian as the sun slowly began its descent, casting golden light over the city’s winding alleyways and towering structures. Her steps were slow and deliberate, each footfall heavy with thought. The city she had called home for so long felt strangely foreign to her now. The narrow streets that twisted and turned like a labyrinth through the bustling marketplaces and quiet residential quarters seemed unfamiliar, as though her own sense of direction had been dulled by everything that had happened.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Finding Paola had been like finding a missing piece of herself, but with it came the burden of awareness—an awareness that gnawed at her constantly, a deep-rooted realization that her world was far more manipulated than she had ever known. The manipulations of Lady Marcelline, the schemes of the court, the tangled web of political intrigue she had once navigated so effortlessly now felt like chains tightening around her heart.

The air in Valarian was thick with the scent of spices, smoke from the many food stalls, and the faint tang of magic that always lingered in the air. People bustled around her, unaware of the war inside her mind, oblivious to the internal conflict that had plagued her since her journey with Paola. She passed familiar landmarks—the towering buildings of the Merchant's Ward, the ornate spires of the Arcanum, the bustling docks that sat at the lowest tier of the city. The city was alive, vibrant, yet Ayla felt detached, as if watching it through a haze.

Her destination was clear: Lady Marcelline’s palace. She knew she had to go, though her heart wavered at the thought. It would take her several hours to get there on foot, but she didn’t mind. She needed the time to think, to sort through the jumble of emotions that twisted inside her.

The Leviathan’s ribs, those ancient, towering structures that framed Valarian, stood like giant sentinels in the distance, their white bones gleaming in the sunlight. The ribs arched over the city like a cage, and Ayla couldn’t help but feel like a bird trapped within them. Every step she took toward the palace felt heavier, as though the air grew thicker the closer she got.

By the time the grand palace came into view, the sky had begun to fade into the soft hues of twilight. The palace loomed on the horizon, its sandstone walls blending into the landscape of the Spinal Range, yet standing as a beacon of power and authority. Ayla’s heart clenched. It had been too long since she had been here, and yet, it felt like no time had passed at all.

As she approached the palace gates, she was met by Gwenore, the head maid. Tall, with raven-black hair pulled tightly into a severe bun, Gwenore’s piercing eyes settled on Ayla with cold disapproval. There was no warmth in her gaze, no recognition of the bond that had once existed between Ayla and the palace.

"I’ll inform the Lady of your return," Gwenore said curtly, her voice cutting through the evening air like a blade. Her lips were thin, pressed together in a tight line, and she didn’t wait for Ayla to respond before turning on her heel and disappearing back into the palace.

Ayla barely acknowledged her, her mind already elsewhere. The cool marble halls of Lady Marcelline’s palace were familiar yet unnerving. It was a place of opulence and shadows, where secrets were whispered behind closed doors, and the weight of power could be felt in every corner. But Ayla wasn’t here to linger in the grand corridors of the palace. She had another destination in mind.

With purpose in her stride, Ayla made her way toward the back of the palace grounds, where the training fields lay. Just beyond them, nestled in a quiet corner of the estate, was a small wooden cottage. It was quaint, out of place amidst the grandeur of the palace, but it was exactly where she knew she would find him—Johnny Jester.

The cottage was surrounded by a small, overgrown garden, wildflowers spilling out from the edges of the path that led to the porch. The smell of freshly turned earth and wood smoke lingered in the air. The training fields nearby were empty now, the sound of swords clashing and grunts of effort from sparring soldiers having died down with the setting sun.

Ayla approached the cottage quietly, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. Jester’s place had always been a refuge of sorts for her—a place where the burdens of court politics didn’t matter, where she could just be herself. The porch was adorned with various trinkets—wind chimes made of silver and gold that tinkled softly in the breeze, mismatched furniture that seemed to have been collected over the years, and a hammock strung between two wooden beams.

And there, lying in the hammock, was Johnny Jester.

His large pirate hat was tilted over his face, and his tattered coat hung loosely over the armrest of a nearby chair. His disheveled black hair spilled out from under the hat, and his boots, caked in dust, were propped up on the edge of the hammock. Jester’s chest rose and fell slowly, the only sign that he was alive.

Ayla couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. He hadn’t changed at all.

For a moment, she hesitated. She wasn’t sure why she felt awkward—perhaps it was everything that had happened, or perhaps it was the strange comfort of being back in a place that felt like home. But with a deep breath, she stepped forward, her boots barely making a sound on the wooden steps of the porch.

"Jester," she called softly, almost afraid to wake him. "Hey, Jester."

There was no response.

Ayla sighed, shaking her head. She reached out, nudging the hammock gently with her hand. "Jester, wake up."

With a start, Jester stirred, his hat slipping off his face to reveal his scarred jawline and his usual mischievous grin. His eyes blinked open, and for a moment, he seemed disoriented, squinting against the fading light. But then, recognition dawned, and his grin widened.

"Ayla!" he exclaimed, sitting up abruptly in the hammock and nearly toppling out of it in his excitement. "Well, if it isn’t my favorite sword maiden! Come to grace me with your lovely presence, have you?"

Ayla rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the warmth that spread through her chest at the sight of him. "I didn’t mean to wake you, but... well, you looked too comfortable for your own good."

Jester waved her off with a lazy hand, his grin never faltering. "Ah, I wasn’t sleeping. Just resting my eyes, love. A Magist needs his beauty sleep, after all."

He swung his legs over the side of the hammock and stood, stretching his arms over his head with an exaggerated yawn. His movements were as flamboyant as ever, every gesture filled with a roguish charm that seemed almost too practiced.

The cottage behind him was as mismatched and chaotic as Jester himself. The small windows were adorned with tattered curtains, and the door creaked slightly as it moved in the breeze. A small wooden table sat outside on the porch, cluttered with half-empty mugs, scattered papers, and an assortment of magical trinkets—likely the remnants of Jester’s most recent experiments. The smell of wood smoke and herbs lingered in the air, giving the place a homey, albeit cluttered, feel.

"So, what brings you to my humble abode?" Jester asked, leaning casually against the porch railing. "Come to tell me about your grand adventures, or have you just missed my handsome face?"

Ayla chuckled, shaking her head. "I’m not sure ‘handsome’ is the word I’d use."

"Ah, you wound me," Jester said, clutching his chest dramatically. "But truly, what brings you here? You don’t usually come all the way out here unless something’s on your mind."

Ayla’s smile faded slightly, and she hesitated for a moment before answering. "I needed to get away. Things have been... complicated."

Jester’s playful expression softened, and he nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. "Complicated, huh? I’m guessing this has to do with our dear Lady Marcelline."

Ayla sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "It’s more than just her. Everything... Paola, the journey, the city, it’s all been a lot to handle."

Jester studied her for a moment, then smiled gently. "Well, you’ve come to the right place, then. Sit down, take a load off. We’ve got all the time in the world."

Ayla smiled, a genuine one this time, and settled herself on the porch steps. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world into twilight, the two of them sat in comfortable silence. For the first time in a while, Ayla felt a sense of peace, knowing that with Jester, things didn’t have to be so complicated.

She could just be herself.

Ayla sat on the porch steps, her mind swirling with memories as the sky darkened into a deep indigo, the stars beginning to peek through the veil of twilight. She glanced up at Jester, who was leaning against the porch railing with his usual carefree air. His dark hair spilled over his shoulders, his pirate hat tilted just enough to give him that roguish charm that had always unnerved her a bit. The faint scar on his jawline caught the light, and despite his seemingly relaxed posture, there was a sharpness in his eyes, a readiness that belied his lazy demeanor.

For a moment, she hesitated, unsure of how to start. But then, in true Ayla fashion, she just dove right into it.

“So... everything's been a mess since we left for Emberfall,” she began, her voice steady but weighted with the memories. “You remember, we were supposed to recover that Fallen Star? Well, we barely made it there. Got hit by a beaststorm before we even reached the desert. Separated. Chaos everywhere.”

Jester raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “A beaststorm, you say? Nasty business, that. But it takes more than a bit of chaos to bring you down, eh, love?” His smile was teasing, his tone light, but she could see the genuine concern in his eyes.

Ayla nodded but didn’t smile. “Yeah, but Paola… she didn’t make it.”

The grin vanished from Jester’s face, and he straightened slightly. “She died?” His voice was soft, surprised, and she could see the gears in his head turning, trying to make sense of it.

“Yeah. That’s how we found out she's a T’shal’ara.”

There was a long pause as Jester processed this. He blinked several times, and then, with a bewildered shake of his head, he said, “Well, that’s a fine bit of madness, isn’t it? A T'shal'ara, just... hiding in plain sight.” He scratched his chin, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “So she came back, then. T’shal’ara can’t die, not like we do. But still... Bloody hell, love, that’s a lot to take in.”

Ayla nodded, her heart pounding as she recounted the story. “It didn’t stop there. After the storm, we made it to Emberfall, and we thought the worst was behind us. But no. Ta’huka… our third party member... he turned on us.”

Jester's expression darkened, and his playful grin faded completely. “Turned on you? What for?”

“He wanted Paola dead. For her gear, her power. He thought he could kill her and take her life force, claim her as a trophy or something.” Ayla’s fists clenched, her voice filled with a bitterness she hadn’t quite let go of. “He almost succeeded, too.”

“Betrayed you for gear?” Jester shook his head in disbelief, and then, with a hint of humor creeping back into his voice, he muttered, “I knew the lad was ambitious, but bloody hell, that’s one hell of a leap. Should’ve just asked for a bit of gold, eh?”

Ayla couldn’t help the small smirk that pulled at her lips. “Yeah, well, we dealt with him. Paola’s... tougher than she looks.” Ayla leaned back against the porch railing, the moonlight casting a soft glow over her armor. She glanced at Jester, his roguish grin still in place as he leaned closer, clearly enjoying the banter. It was almost like old times—before everything had become so complicated.

Jester's eyes flickered with curiosity as he waited for her to continue, but Ayla hesitated, her mind wandering to how things had changed since Emberfall. She had been so focused on their mission at the time, so determined to complete the recovery of the Fallen Star, but fate had other plans. That was when she’d first met Poca—odd and endearing in her own way, a puppet-woman with sentient free will, a living creation who had quickly become a strange but valued companion.

"Poca was... a surprise, to say the least," Ayla began, her tone softening as she recalled their first meeting. “We met her in Emberfall, and at first, I didn’t know what to make of her. She’s a puppet—literally. But she’s also so much more than that. A living puppet, the only one of her kind, with free will and everything. It was... strange at first, I’ll admit. But she grew on me. On all of us.”

Jester raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “A living puppet, eh? Now that’s something I’ve never seen. And you say she’s got free will? How’s that work?”

Ayla shook her head with a small smile. “Honestly? I’m not entirely sure. Poca explained it once—something about a combination of life magic and earth magic, puppeteering in a way that went beyond normal enchantments. She’s fully sentient, has emotions, desires, and—well, she’s... alive. Just like you and me.”

Jester let out a low whistle. “That’s one hell of a companion to have. And I’m guessing she was part of this whole adventure with you and Paola?”

Ayla nodded, the memories of their time together coming back in a flood. “Yeah. After everything went sideways in Emberfall and Ta’huka turned on us, we met Poca while we were still recovering. Paola... Well, I caught her sleeping with Poca after one of our rougher nights.”

Jester’s eyes widened, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Sleeping with Poca, eh? Now that’s a twist I didn’t see coming.”

Ayla chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s not what you think. Paola was exhausted, and Poca... I don’t know, she has this strange way of being comforting. They just ended up falling asleep together. It was... endearing, really.”

Jester raised his cup in mock salute. “Well, that’s a plot twist if I ever heard one. And let me guess—that led to another adventure?”

Ayla nodded. “Yeah. It led us to Windmere. Poca had a mission of her own—to deliver this boy, Abraham, to his aunt. His family had been in some trouble, and he needed a safe place to go. We took it as a chance to regroup, to focus on something other than the chaos that had been chasing us. It ended up being... a bonding experience. We all got a lot closer on that journey.”

She smiled fondly, remembering the long days spent traveling, the quiet moments shared under the stars, and the way they had grown to trust each other. Poca’s quirks had become endearing, her humor and straightforward nature balancing out Paola’s fiery spirit and Ayla’s own grounded approach. Despite being a puppet, Poca had become an irreplaceable part of their group.

Jester, ever the charmer, gave a knowing nod. “Seems like you lot have been through quite the adventure together. And speaking of Paola...” He grinned, leaning closer again. “She’s still got those ridiculous pink bunny slippers, doesn’t she? You know, the ones that somehow—by the grace of whatever gods exist—are diamond-tier?”

Ayla couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, absolutely. She still wears them, on occasion. Can you believe those things? I’ve never seen anything like it—pink, fluffy bunny slippers that could probably take down a beast on their own. Only Paola would have something like that.”

Jester chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “That woman’s full of surprises, isn’t she? Fighting off monsters in bunny slippers... It’s almost poetic.”

Ayla’s smile softened as she thought about Paola. “She’s more than capable. Honestly, sometimes I think she fights better when she’s... well, you know... not wearing much at all.”

Jester’s grin widened into a full-blown laugh. “Ah, of course. The legendary Paola, fighting off beasts in nothing but her birthday suit and bunny slippers. Sounds about right.” He gave Ayla a playful nudge. “And you—you’re still the sensible one, I take it? Armor upgrades and all?”

Ayla rolled her eyes, but her smirk didn’t fade. “Someone has to be. Paola’s fearless, but someone has to think about, you know... surviving the fights.”

Jester’s eyes flicked over her, and he chuckled. “Looks good on you. But...” His grin turned roguish, and his voice lowered into a mock conspiratorial tone, “I have to admit, I did always fancy that old armor of yours. Had a certain... appeal, if you catch my drift.”

Ayla rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smirk from growing on her face. “Yeah, well, I needed more protection. Not everyone can prance around in nothing but rags and expect to survive.”

Jester gave her an exaggerated shrug, his grin widening. “What can I say, love? I like to keep things light. Besides, watching you fight in your old gear was a highlight. Now that I think about it...” He raised a finger as if having an epiphany. “Maybe it wasn’t the gear. Maybe it was just you.”

Ayla reached for the nearest object—an empty vial that had been lying on the porch—and tossed it at him. It bounced off his chest and landed in his lap, and he laughed, the sound bright and carefree.

“That’s the spirit!” Jester cheered, picking up the vial and setting it on the railing. “Always did like it when you got feisty.”

Ayla shook her head, but there was a warmth in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a while. Jester had a way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight of the world wasn’t so heavy after all.

“So where is our dear Paola now?” Jester asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. “Out raising hell, I presume?”

Ayla’s face reddened slightly, and she averted her eyes for a moment before answering. “Well... she’s with Poca. And... we’re all kind of... together.”

Jester blinked, clearly taken aback. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his eyes widening as he processed what she’d just said.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he finally said, raising his hands as if to stop time. “So, you’re telling me that you, Paola, and Poca—Poca the puppeteer—are all... together? As in, romantically?”

Ayla nodded, biting her lip to keep from laughing at his bewildered expression.

For the first time that evening, Jester was truly speechless. He stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, and then, with a dramatic flourish, he threw his hands up in the air. “Well, that’s it. I need a drink.”

Ayla burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer. Jester’s reactions were always over-the-top, but this one took the cake. He hopped up from the porch, heading to a small side table where he kept a bottle of rum and a few mismatched cups. He poured two generous servings, handing one to Ayla with a playful wink.

“To unexpected twists, love,” Jester said, raising his cup. “And to you, Paola, and Poca. May your relationship be as chaotic as the rest of your life.”

Ayla clinked her cup against his, still smiling. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Jester leaned back against the railing, taking a long sip of his drink. “So, tell me. How’s that working out for you, eh? Three’s a crowd, as they say.”

Ayla shrugged, her smile softening. “It’s... different. But it works. Poca’s... well, you know Poca. She’s a bit eccentric, but she’s got a good heart. And Paola...” Her voice trailed off for a moment, a fondness creeping into her tone. “Paola’s like no one I’ve ever met. She makes things... easier. Even when they’re not.”

Jester raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a knowing grin. “Sounds like someone’s got it bad, lass.”

Ayla shot him a playful glare. “Shut up.”

But Jester wasn’t finished. “No, no, I mean it. I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen you this... soft. You’ve got a glow about you, Ayla. It suits you.”

Ayla felt her face grow warmer, and she took a quick sip of her drink to hide her embarrassment. “It’s not like that.”

Jester just laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, love, it’s exactly like that. But don’t worry, I won’t tease you too much. I’m happy for you.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the soft sounds of the evening surrounding them. The crickets chirped in the distance, and the breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of the nearby training grounds.

“Do you ever think about what could’ve been?” Ayla asked suddenly, her voice quieter now. “Between us, I mean?”

Jester glanced at her, his expression softening. “Of course, I do. But life’s funny that way, love. It takes you in directions you never expect. I’m not one to dwell on the ‘what ifs.’ I live in the moment. And right now, you seem happy. That’s all that matters to me.”

Ayla smiled, a bittersweet feeling blooming in her chest. “Yeah... I guess you’re right.” Ayla was happy he was happy for her, at the very least.

Jester gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. “Besides, I’ve got my hands full with my students these days. No time for romance when you’re running a battle arena, eh?”

Ayla chuckled. “Still giving them hell, I take it?”

“Oh, you know me,” Jester said with a grin. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As the night deepened and the stars twinkled above them, Ayla felt a sense of peace settle over her. Talking with Jester, teasing him, laughing with him—it brought back memories of simpler times, of days when things weren’t so complicated. She knew that life would never go back to the way it was, but in this moment, with Jester by her side, she could pretend that everything was just a little bit easier.