The Chronicles of a Fallen Star

Paola woke to the gentle rocking of the wagon as it trundled along the dusty trail. After a night of restless sleep, plagued by nightmares, she was grateful for the fresh morning air and the sound of the river nearby. Yas'tavot had generously gifted them soap and, to Paola's delight, a hair tie and a guitar. It was his way of thanking them for saving his life. He had no armor or clothing to offer, which he seemed hesitant about, but Paola shrugged it off. She was used to it by now.

The river was cold, but finally having soap to clean the grime and blood off her body was a relief. Ayla used her magic to warm the water, making the morning bath pleasant. Paola watched as Ayla's magic created small ripples in the water, her eyes lingering on the Sword Maiden's graceful movements. The memories of the previous day, the battles they had fought, and the lives she had taken still haunted her, but the gentle moment by the river brought her a sense of peace.

As they continued their journey, Paola sat in the back of the wagon, her fingers hovering over the strings of her new guitar. It was an acoustic guitar with a beautifully crafted wooden body. The sound hole was shaped like a crescent moon, giving it a unique and magical appearance. She hugged the guitar tightly, the polished wood pressing into her thighs and chest. Her fingers trembled as she prepared to play.

Her mind drifted back to memories of her father, her papa, who had taught her to play. He had only taught her a bit, just enough to continue on her own, but she had never picked it up again. After working in the fields and orchards, her father's hands had grown too bad to continue playing. Paola, too, had found other distractions—boys, school, parties, and finally work. She had grown up too fast, forgetting the simple joys of playing the guitar.

Now, here she was, her fingers shaking as she prepared to strum. She took a deep breath, her damp hair tied back in a ponytail with a few strands framing her face. She sat on one leg while the other dangled off the wagon, as it kicked up small trails of dust. Paola's fingers strummed the strings of the guitar, the sound resonating through the crisp morning air. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to get lost in the music. Ayla glanced back from the front of the wagon, her mismatched eyes filled with curiosity and concern, but she said nothing. She understood that this moment was Paola's.

Paola began to sing, her voice soft and trembling at first but growing stronger with each note. She sang a song in Spanish, a song that held a close place in her heart. It was about a boy who lost his mother when he fled his homeland, only to find upon his return that she had already passed away.

The lyrics flowed from her lips, painting a vivid picture of sorrow and longing:

"En mi patria, te dejé,

madre mía, con tanto pesar.

Fui a buscar un nuevo hogar,

y al volver, no te pude hallar."

Paola thought about the song, remembering the story her father had told her. He had cherished this song, and she had overheard him one night telling her mother that it reminded him of himself. She had vowed to learn it for him, but she had never gotten the chance to show him she could play it. Now, she played it for him, across worlds and time.

"Tu recuerdo vive en mí,

como un faro en la oscuridad.

Madre mía, yo te extraño,

tu amor es mi eternidad."

Tears welled up in Paola's eyes, but she didn't wipe them away. She let them fall, each drop a testament to her love and grief. The music swelled, filling the space around her with its haunting beauty. She played with all her heart, each chord and note a piece of her soul laid bare.

"El camino fue largo y cruel,

pero tu voz me acompañó.

Ahora sé que estás en paz,

en un lugar donde el dolor no alcanzó."

Paola's voice cracked with emotion, but she pressed on, pouring everything into the song. It was a cathartic release, a way to connect with her father and her past. The guitar sang under her fingers, the melody weaving a tapestry of loss and hope.

"Madre mía, te prometo,

llevar tu amor a donde voy.

Aunque lejos esté de ti,

en mi corazón siempre estás."

As the final notes hung in the air, Paola let out a shuddering breath. She felt a sense of peace wash over her, a small comfort in the midst of her turmoil. She opened her eyes, blinking away the tears, and looked at the trail beneath them. Her foot hung off the edge of the wagon, swinging gently as they moved forward.

Ayla watched her in silence, a deep understanding in her eyes. She didn't need to say anything; the music had spoken for itself. Paola had found a way to honor her father and find a moment of solace in this strange new world. And in that moment, she felt a little less alone.

Paola hugged the guitar close, feeling the polished wood against her skin. She knew the road ahead was still long and uncertain, but for now, she allowed herself to be lost in the memory of her father's love and the music that connected them. Paola didn't sing anymore after that. Instead, she let her fingers dance across the strings, weaving notes and melodies into the air. The music flowed from her, a soothing balm for her soul. She took notice of how well they were traveling now, the speed much faster than their walk. It was a little bit faster than a run, so she could see how they were making good time. The land was a perfect blend of desert and forest. The horses and wagon had no problem moving through the semi-packed road. It wasn't sand dunes but a mix of clay-type sand and, well, sand.

She noticed the mountains being left behind, although they were technically still in the Spinal Range. Ayla had explained the mountain passes, usually dangerous, were typically avoided unless travelers had a full guard. Ayla had also mentioned while they were bathing how Yas'tavot was clearly a merchant of high status. Only the rich could afford personal wagons and horses. Most people pulled their own carts or owned a single small breed of horse, none to pull wagons at least. Basically, she explained that doing what Yas'tavot was doing meant he had money.

Paola played absentmindedly as she thought about different things, letting the world pass her by as she sat in the back of the wagon. Trees, grass, shrubs—all grew from the sand-like material. The mountains were supposedly the spine of some mythical beast. This world was cruel and beautiful. The sky was blue with lazy clouds, and she could see one of the planets far off in the sky, even during the day. It looked like Earth, but she could see the outlines of the shorelines and knew it wasn't Earth at all.

Hours went by before she finally put the guitar away and simply watched the world pass by. She had gained a lot of knowledge about the world listening to Yas'tavot and Ayla speak.

Ayla had mentioned that the Spinal Range was named for the mythical Leviathan, whose massive bones formed the mountains. The river they followed, the Leviathan's Flow, was said to be its lifeblood, giving life to the region. Paola found it hard to wrap her mind around the concept, but it was fascinating nonetheless.

As they traveled, she noted how the landscape shifted subtly. The trees and vegetation were resilient, growing out of the sandy soil with surprising vigor. Birds with vibrant plumage flitted between branches, their calls filling the air. Ayla had called them "Parcos," another type of bird, and Paola couldn't help but compare them to parrots from Earth as well. Ayla explained how Parcos were known for their ability to mimic sounds, including human speech, and were often kept as pets by the wealthy. Paola took in the scenery, appreciating the mix of familiar and unfamiliar elements. The world of Udanara was both enchanting and daunting, filled with dangers and wonders.

* * *

Paola sat in the back of the wagon, lost in thought. The previous evening’s emotional release through her song had left her feeling raw yet oddly at peace. She strummed her guitar absently, the music flowing softly as she pondered the conversations she had overheard and participated in throughout the day.

It had been a couple of days since they saved Yas'tavot, and as they traveled, Paola had been absorbing as much information about Udanara as she could. Ayla and Yas'tavot spoke often, and she listened intently, asking questions whenever she could. That morning, Paola overheard Ayla and Yas'tavot discussing the political landscape. They spoke in hushed, conspiratorial tones, making Paola strain to hear every word.

“The Queen is really running the show,” Yas'tavot said, his voice low and smooth. “King Alderic might be the face, but Queen Mirella holds the true power.”

Ayla shook her head, her tone skeptical. “I disagree. The King has more influence than you give him credit for. The Queen is formidable, yes, but she doesn’t control everything.”

Paola filed this information away, her curiosity piqued. The dynamics of power in Udanara were complex, and she wanted to understand them better. Later, she asked Ayla about the economic system of the Receaea Empire as they walked alongside the wagon, giving the horses a break.

“How does the economy work here?” Paola asked, genuinely curious. “What keeps everything running?”

Ayla glanced at her, her expression thoughtful. “The empire is divided into provinces, each with its own resources and specialties. For example, Windmere, where I’m from, is a bustling trade city with ports that connect to various parts of Udanara. We deal in goods from all over the continent.”

Yas'tavot, overhearing, added, “Valarian, where I’m based, is the heart of commerce and culture. It’s a melting pot of races and professions, where anything and everything can be traded or sold.”

Paola nodded, absorbing the information. The idea of a city where different races and cultures mingled intrigued her. “And the currency? How does that work?”

Ayla explained, “We use the Gold Square System. There are different denominations, but it’s fairly straightforward. The provinces trade goods and services, and taxes are collected by the empire to maintain infrastructure and security.” Paola had learned that their currency system worked pretty much the same as America's, although no paper, just coins.

That evening, as they set up camp by the river, Paola reflected on the different races in Udanara. She had learned about them through various conversations. There were the Aquarids, with their sea-blue skin and webbed fingers; the Arachnites, like Yas'tavot, who resembled humanoid spiders; and the Aetherians, with their butterfly wings and shimmering hair.

Yas'tavot, noticing her interest, shared more about his kind. “Arachnites are known for their craftsmanship and trap-making abilities. We’re a resourceful race, often underestimated by others.”

Paola couldn’t help but shiver slightly, still adjusting to the idea of talking spiders. “And the Aetherians?” she asked, curious about the winged beings she had only heard about.

Ayla smiled, her eyes reflecting the campfire. “Aetherians are elemental fae, known for their elaborate ceremonies and connection to nature. They can manipulate elements to a degree, making them both beautiful and formidable.”

As they continued their journey the next day, Paola learned more about Valarian. Yas'tavot described it as a city divided into two main areas: Uptown and the Slums. Uptown was home to the wealthy and powerful, with lavish buildings and bustling markets. The Slums, on the other hand, were where the poor and marginalized lived, struggling to make ends meet. “Despite the disparity, there’s a sense of community in the Slums that you won’t find Uptown,” Yas'tavot said. “People look out for each other, share what little they have. It’s a tough life, but there’s a certain camaraderie there.”

Paola thought about this as they traveled, her mind filled with images of the city. She imagined the vibrant streets of Uptown, the opulence contrasting sharply with the grit and determination of the Slums. By evening, the conversations and lessons began to blur together, painting a vivid picture of Udanara in Paola’s mind. She marveled at the complexity and beauty of this world, so different from her own. Despite the dangers and uncertainties, she felt a growing sense of connection to the people and places she was learning about.

The horses pushed through the night, their sturdy legs carrying them forward with a steady rhythm. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape, but Paola knew that the days on Udanara were much longer than those on Earth. Even with the sun appearing close to setting, they still had hours of daylight left. Paola rested her chin on the body of her guitar, watching the world blur by as she relaxed in the back of the wagon. The soothing sound of the guitar strings under her fingers helped her to focus.

She called up her character screen, noting with satisfaction that she had leveled up. She was level 12 now, and the small but nice bumps in her stats made her smile. She still had no idea what the average was, but she felt a sense of progress. Then she noticed three new milestones. She chuckled at the cheeky milestones:

Melodic Nudist - Level 1

"You’ve spent an hour playing the guitar naked. What a way to serenade the stars!"

- Reward: 200 XP (Nudist Bonus: 300 XP)

Streaking Traveler - Level 3

"You’ve traveled 100 miles naked. You’ve truly embraced the naked wanderer lifestyle."

- Reward: 300 XP (Nudist Bonus: 450 XP)

Silent Assassin - Level 1

"You’ve achieved three kills. Look at you, starting your very own hit list."

- Reward: 150 XP (Nudist Bonus: 225 XP)

She found herself genuinely amused by the milestones, the humor easing the tension that had been building inside her. She glanced down at her stats again, appreciating the progress she was making. As she strummed her guitar, she let her thoughts drift to the conversations she had overheard and participated in throughout the day.

Paola's soft features and gentle brown eyes reflected the setting sun's light. Her hair, now tied in a neat ponytail, no longer wild and all over the place, framed her face as she sat with one leg dangling off the wagon. She plucked the guitar strings softly, gaining XP with each note. By the end of the trip, with her Nudist perk, she felt she could sway anyone into a lullaby. Ayla had mentioned earlier that she could feel the magic coming from Paola's playing, and Paola had felt a sense of pride in that.

Yas'tavot’s words from earlier replayed in her mind. He had said that since her soul had only recently connected to the Tree of Life, it was adapting to her circumstances in real-time. “You have to understand, Paola,” Yas'tavot had said, his tone patient and instructive, “your soul was recently connected to the Tree of Life. Most people spend their entire lives nurturing their tree to grow in a specific path. Take Ayla, for example. She’s on an accelerated path due to her noble background and rigorous training.” His accent reminded her an old Englishmen, like a transatlantic British man.

Paola nodded, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to follow. “So, what does that mean for me?”

Yas'tavot smiled. “Your tree is essentially playing catch up. It’s growing and adapting to your current circumstances. That’s why you’re seeing these milestones and advancements so quickly. Your Tree of Life is tailored to your experiences and personality.”

“Tailored to me…” Paola repeated, thinking about the snarky milestones. “So, it’s like my tree is reflecting what I find amusing or significant?”

"Exactly," Yas'tavot confirmed. "The Tree of Life is a reflection of your journey, your choices, and your nature. It adapts to you, creating a unique path that's in tune with who you are."

Paola nodded, the pieces starting to fall into place. "So, these milestones... they're a way for the tree to communicate with me, to guide me?"

"Yes," Yas'tavot said. "Think of them as markers along your path, highlighting significant moments and achievements. They might seem cheeky or humorous because that’s what resonates with you. It’s your tree’s way of keeping you engaged and motivated."

Ayla, listening in, added, “Most people don’t experience such rapid growth or these kinds of milestones because their trees grow slowly over time, reflecting a lifetime of experiences. Your tree is unique because it’s catching up all at once.”

Paola’s brows scrunched in confusion. “So, my tree is basically creating itself as I live?”

Yas'tavot nodded. “Exactly. It’s adapting to you in real-time, which is why you’re seeing these snarky milestones and quick level-ups. Your experiences are shaping your tree in a way that’s unique to you.”

Ayla and Yas'tavot had continued their own conversation, and Paola had remained quietly playing her guitar, wrapping her mind around everything she was learning. The realization that her Tree of Life adapted to her personality and preferences was a profound one. The snarky milestones were there because, deep down, she found them amusing. The tree knew this was what she’d prefer in the long run.

As the sun dipped lower, casting a golden hue over the landscape, Paola felt a growing sense of connection to this strange new world. The journey was still daunting, and the dangers were ever-present, but she was beginning to understand Udanara and her place within it. With each note from her guitar, she felt more at peace, even as the world around her continued to shift and change.

Although Paola had expected the horses to pull them through the night, she felt them slow and veer off to the side of the path. Poking her head out of the wagon and glancing ahead, she didn't see any reason to stop. That was when Ayla and Yas'tavot came around the back as Paola sat there, one leg hanging off the back. She looked at them curiously when Ayla said, "Paola, you’re free to make your own choice in the matter."

Paola felt uneasy. "What’s going on?"

Yas'tavot began talking, his accent reminding her of an old Englishman, like a transatlantic British man. "There is a reason I was traveling where I was, and I haven’t been fully honest with you." He paused, mandibles clicking nervously. "My full name is Thrix Yas'tavot. I was traveling out this way with a band of mercenaries when we were ambushed. I fled, and they caught me. I was attempting to free one of my friends from a compound when the ambush came."

Paola nodded, still unsure where this was going. "Okay, and?"

"As it turns out," Yas'tavot continued, "we will be passing by this compound shortly. I humbly ask for your help, knowing an Obsidian tier Sword Maiden would be enough to take down the guards."

Yas'tavot didn't ask about Paola's level, but he assumed since she was with Ayla, she was powerful. Which... she didn't know if she was. She finally asked, "What then?"

His multiple arms and claws came together nervously, his mandibles clicking as he seemed to hesitate. The powerful and confident merchant quickly faded into something nervous and scared. His multiple eyes seemed to look everywhere, and Paola couldn't help but get on edge. Yas'tavot had seemed so... human before, it made her forget that he was a spider. But this, this... this scared her. She glanced at Ayla, who seemed perfectly fine.

Finally, Yas'tavot just let it out, "I need your help to raid the compound and free my friend."

And then Paola got her first quest. In her mind's eye, a message popped up, unable to be ignored like her stats and HP.

Quest: Rescue Mission

Objective:

Raid the compound and free the captured.

Rewards:

Primary: XP

Secondary: Hidden reward

Bonus Side Quest:

Kill the Leader and his minions.

Rewards:

Based on performance.

A prompt appeared, asking her to accept or deny the quest. Mentally, she clicked "accept," and the quest moved to a small version of itself under her stats where her HP was, where she could check in on it. Yas'tavot visibly relaxed as she accepted the quest, although she hadn't meant to do so so quickly. Welp, she was in for it now. She played along as if she had planned to.

Yas'tavot explained, "We’ll need to leave the wagon here." He activated the invisibility and defense ward over his wagon, hiding and protecting his goods while he was gone.

Paola watched as the wagon shimmered and then seemed to vanish from sight. She felt a mix of excitement and apprehension as she stepped down from the wagon. After Yas'tavot activated the wards for his wagon, he turned to Paola and Ayla, his many eyes reflecting the faint evening light. "The compound is just ahead," he said, pointing through the trees. "It's not heavily fortified, just a small band of mercenaries. But the man who runs the place is extremely dangerous."

Paola and Ayla exchanged glances, their resolve solidifying. Yas'tavot led them through the dense foliage until they reached the edge of the forest. There, in a small clearing, stood a dilapidated farm. The crops were dying, the barn was decaying, and everything about the place screamed of neglect and despair. It had all the sad works and makings of a bad guy's hideout, Paola thought.

They crouched behind some bushes, scanning the area. Paola could see a few guards lazily patrolling the perimeter. She took in the sight of the crumbling farmhouse and the overgrown fields, feeling a sense of unease settling in her stomach. Her heart pounded as she reflected on her abilities and those of Ayla.

She knew she had the skills to help in this fight: Barely There, Summon from Scratch, and Dagger Diva. Each one had its use, but this would be her first real test. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

Ayla was beside her, calm and focused. Paola admired her for that. Ayla had already proven herself to be a formidable fighter, and her confidence was reassuring. She glanced at Yas'tavot, who seemed more nervous than ever. The merchant's multiple eyes darted around, taking in every detail of the compound.

"The man who runs this place is a fleshcrafter," Yas'tavot whispered. "He uses forbidden magic to manipulate and control flesh. He's dangerous, but we need to save my friend."

Paola nodded, her anxiety mounting. She had never faced anything like this before, but she knew she couldn't back down now. They had come too far. Paola swallowed hard. She focused on the farm, watching the guards' movements. They seemed relaxed, not expecting an attack. That could work to their advantage.

Yas'tavot continued, "There are probably about ten guards. The leader usually stays inside the farmhouse. We'll need to move quickly and quietly."

Paola's heart raced as she visualized their approach. She could see the path they would take, the spots where they would need to be extra careful, and the moments where they would strike. Her mind whirled with possibilities and plans.

"A fleshcrafter..." Ayla murmured, her eyes narrowing. "That is... troublesome. Do you know if he has any other specialties?"

Yas'tavot's mandibles clacked together softly, his many eyes reflecting the starlight. "I know not of his other abilities, but it will be a challenge regardless."

Ayla's mismatched eyes glinted with determination. "Then perhaps it's best we do not engage the leader directly. Instead, we should focus on incapacitating his men and securing your friend's freedom."

Yas'tavot's gaze darted between the two women, his mandibles twitching anxiously. "Yes, yes, that would be wise. Thank you, both of you." He paused, seeming to compose himself. "Shall we, then?"

Ayla nodded, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "Let's do this."

Paola felt like she was about to puke, but she managed a nod.