The Chronicles of a Fallen Star

Paola's consciousness gradually clawed its way back from the depths of darkness. She groaned, the sound unmistakably hers and not the eerie moan of a zombie. Her back was propped against the rough roots of a large tree, the texture oddly comforting. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling her skin with patches of warmth. The sun was lower in the sky now, nearing the horizon, yet it stubbornly clung to the day, refusing to set.

As she oriented herself, Paola noticed a small fire crackling a few feet away. Her pink bunny slippers were placed neatly beside her, a bizarre but familiar sight. She was naked still, the absurdity of her situation not lost on her. Tentatively, she rolled her shoulder, bracing for pain from the zombie bite that... never came. So, when she finally dared to look, she found her skin was unblemished, as if the flesh had never been torn. "What the fuck?" she whispered to herself, her voice a mix of wonder and confusion. The impossibility of the situation weighed on her, each logical explanation crumbling under the reality of her healed skin.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of another figure from the opposite side of the fire. The woman didn't seem to notice Paola was awake as she dropped a bundle of firewood next to the flames with a harrumph. She was an intriguing sight; her wavy blonde hair flowed down her back, soft and untamed, contrasting sharply with her rugged surroundings.

Paola studied her more closely. The woman's eyes were of different colors—one a deep, vibrant red and the other a clear sky blue, an unusual and captivating combination. Her attire was even more striking. She wore black metal bracers that spiraled intricately around her forearms and matching shoulder pads that looked both ornate and formidable. The boots were of the same black metal, crafted with the same elaborate detailing.

Yet, the rest of her outfit was baffling. A strapless metal bra molded to her chest with precision, covering just enough to be modest but no more, its design as elaborate as the pieces adorning her arms and legs. Her frame was petite, much like Paola's, adding to the surrealness of her appearance. And then there was the thong—also metal, barely functional, a ludicrous choice for any form of protection or comfort.

"This has got to be some male fantasy video game armor," Paola thought, unable to suppress a chuckle. The armor would offer little protection in a real battle, a single arrow to the abdomen could end it all, not to mention the absurdity of fighting in a metal thong.

Her chuckle caught the woman's attention, and she looked up sharply, her mismatched eyes locking onto Paola's with an intensity that halted any further thoughts. The air between them thickened with an awkward energy, neither woman speaking, just staring at each other across the small fire. The blonde woman’s expression was unreadable, her posture stiff and alert, as if unsure how to react to Paola’s laughter.

Paola felt the urge to explain herself, to break the silence that stretched uncomfortably between them, but words failed her. Instead, she took in the full absurdity and complexity of the woman’s outfit again, wondering if this too was part of the bizarre world she had been thrust into—a world where zombies roamed and healing happened miraculously.

The woman finally broke the stare, her gaze softening slightly as she turned her attention back to the fire, adjusting a log with a small metal rod. The quiet crackle of the flames filled the silence, providing a gentle backdrop to the surreal tableau.

Paola watched her, fascinated and bewildered, the reality of her situation slowly sinking in. She was no longer in her own world, and this woman, this strangely attired guardian or warrior, might be her only link to understanding this place. Yet, how to begin a conversation? What could she possibly say that wouldn’t sound utterly insane?

So, they sat, the fire crackling between them, each lost in her own thoughts, the awkwardness of their first encounter hanging in the air like smoke. The sun dipped lower, casting longer shadows, and the forest around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for one of them to shatter the quiet. But for now, they just looked at each other, two strangers in a strange land, connected by circumstance and the unspoken questions that flickered like flames in their eyes.

Paola pulled her knees tightly to her chest, her toes digging into the cool sand, an instinctive attempt to cover herself as much as possible. Despite the warmth of the fire, a chill of vulnerability swept through her, intensified by the presence of the stranger across from her. She felt naked and exposed, not just physically, but emotionally, the weight of her situation crushing her confidence.

She shivered, her breath catching in her throat. Her mind raced, searching for a logical explanation, but each path dead-ended in confusion and uncertainty. Finally, she spoke, her voice hesitant and trembling. "Who are you?" Paola's voice wavered, the question sounding weak and pathetic in her ears.

The woman blinked, as if momentarily surprised by the question. “Oh, I'm Ayla,” she replied, her mismatched eyes—one a vibrant red, the other a clear sky blue—studying Paola intently.

“Paola.” Paola nodded slightly, holding her knees to her chest, feeling exposed and vulnerable. She couldn’t bring herself to say more.

Ayla cleared her throat, breaking the silence again. “What were you doing out here in the Spinal Range?” she asked gently, her tone probing but kind. “And, uh, in your current state?”

Paola shrugged, her mind still foggy. “I don’t really know,” she said softly. “I was just… here.”

Ayla’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she maintained her gentle demeanor. “I saw a falling star earlier today, even under the bright sun,” she mentioned casually, watching Paola’s reaction closely. “I decided to investigate.”

Paola’s eyes widened in confusion. “A falling star?”

“Yes,” Ayla continued, her voice calm. “When I reached the crater, I saw that something—or someone—had climbed out. I followed the tracks and found some dead zombies. It seems you handled some of them yourself.”

At the mention of zombies, Paola’s breath hitched, and she quickly looked around, eyes wide with fear. Ayla shook her head, raising a reassuring hand. “There are none left. I took care of the rest.”

Paola swallowed hard, trying to steady her nerves. “Thank you,” she whispered, her mind still reeling from the encounter.

Ayla nodded, her expression thoughtful. “How did you end up here? What’s the last thing you remember?”

Paola took a deep breath, trying to recall. “I was at home,” she began slowly. “I was getting ready to bathe. I turned on the water, and then… I just fell into the void. Next thing I know, I’m here.”

Ayla’s lips curled into a skeptical smile, but she did her best to understand. “You just fell into the void?” she echoed, her tone curious.

Paola nodded emphatically. “Yes, I was at home, waiting for the water to heat up. I was there, and then suddenly… I fell. And now I’m here.”

Ayla’s eyes flickered with doubt, but she remained patient. “Where are you from? Maybe it was a spell gone wrong. Perhaps you’re not far from home?”

Paola hesitated, unsure of what to say. “I’m… not sure,” she lied, trying to buy time. “I’ve never heard of this place before.”

Ayla tilted her head, studying Paola more intently. “What province are you from?” she asked, her tone gentle but insistent.

Paola’s mind raced as she tried to think of an answer. “I… I don’t know,” she stammered. “I’ve never heard of provinces. We didn’t have those where I’m from.”

Ayla raised an eyebrow, her skepticism growing. “What do you mean? Every land has provinces, territories, or regions. Are you saying you don’t even know your own homeland?”

Paola felt a wave of panic. “I told you, I was just at home,” she insisted, looking down at her naked body. “I was waiting for hot water, and then I fell. That’s all I know.”

Ayla sighed softly, her expression a mix of sympathy and doubt. “Alright,” she said gently. “It’s clear you’ve been through a lot. We can figure out more as we go. For now, let’s just focus on keeping you safe." Ayla watched Paola closely, her eyes softening as she sensed the other woman's discomfort. "I’m a Sword Maiden," she began, her voice calm and steady. "I was with my employer when we got separated during an ambush. As a Sword Maiden, it's my duty to help those in need, and clearly, you need help."

Paola nodded slowly, trying to absorb the information. "I appreciate that," she said quietly, still holding her knees to her chest.

"I'd like to help you get back to your home," Ayla continued, her tone gentle but firm. "But I can’t do that if you won’t talk about it. I understand if you're traumatized. But I need to know more about you. What is your class? Are you a farmer, a barmaid, something like that?"

Paola's heart raced, fearing she might reveal too much. She chose her words carefully. "I... I'm not sure what you mean," she said, evading the question. "What’s a Sword Maiden, exactly?"

Ayla’s eyebrows raised in surprise. "You haven’t heard of the Sword Maiden class?" She studied Paola even more intently, her curiosity piqued.

Paola took a deep breath, trying to craft a plausible story. "I come from a poor family," she began. "We work in the fields and orchards, barely getting by. I don’t know much about the world beyond that. We live a nomadic lifestyle, always struggling. Classes and such aren’t important enough to be studied."

Ayla nodded slowly, accepting the explanation. "I see," she said thoughtfully. "Those communities often rely heavily on adventurers to keep them safe, especially around the main cities or villages. And if you don't live within one it would be more difficult for you to have access to resources." Ayla tapped her finger against her chin, her eyes never leaving Paola.

Paola nodded along, relieved that Ayla seemed to believe her. "Yes, exactly," she agreed. "We’ve always depended on others for protection."

Ayla smiled reassuringly. "Well, as a Sword Maiden, my role is a blend of the Quarts-tier Lady class and the Obsidian-class Warrior. The Lady class is focused on leadership and etiquette, often serving nobility. The Warrior class, as you might guess, involves combat and protection. Sword Maidens are trained in both, ensuring we can protect important figures effectively."

Paola feigned understanding, nodding along. "That sounds impressive," she said, her voice filled with a mix of awe and respect.

Ayla's expression softened further. "It’s a demanding role, but one I’m proud of. We ensure the safety of our charges, blending ceremonial duties with practical combat skills."

Paola found herself relaxing slightly, feeling more comfortable with Ayla's presence. "It sounds like you’ve had a lot of training," she remarked, genuinely curious.

Ayla nodded. "Years of it. Both in combat and in courtly duties. It’s a delicate balance, but essential for the role."

Paola couldn’t help but admire Ayla’s dedication. "That’s incredible," she said softly. "I can’t imagine having to do all that."

"It can be challenging," Ayla admitted, "but it’s rewarding. Knowing I can protect and serve those in need makes it worthwhile."

Paola's mind raced with the implications of Ayla’s words. This world was so different from her own, yet she found herself drawn to Ayla’s strength and kindness. Despite her fear, she felt a growing sense of trust.

"Thank you for helping me," Paola said earnestly. "I don’t know what I would’ve done without you."

Ayla smiled gently. "It’s my duty," she said simply. "And besides, no one should have to face this world alone."

Paola nodded, her gratitude genuine. She still had so many questions, so many uncertainties, but for now, she was content to have Ayla’s help. She glanced at the fire, its warmth and light providing a small comfort in the vast unknown. It danced and popped, the only normal thing in the chaos that surrounded her. Paola stared into the fire, her mind swirling with the overwhelming strangeness of her situation. "Quarts tier Lady class?" she repeated, the words tasting foreign on her tongue.

Ayla nodded, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "You’ve never heard of the Lady class?" she asked gently.

Paola glanced down at herself, her brows furrowed in confusion. "I’m not sure if Lady is a class," she admitted.

Ayla laughed, a soft, cute sound that lightened the tension in the air. "Lady isn’t just a gender, well, it is, but it’s more of a role in nobility," she explained. "It involves leadership, etiquette, and various duties within the court."

Paola tried to process this new information, nodding slowly. "Oh, I see."

Ayla continued, her tone gentle and probing. "Your family works in orchards, then? Do you live outside the villages, or? Are you nomadic to stay with the farms or something?"

Paola quickly made something up, trying to stay consistent with her fabricated story. "Yes, we move around a bit to follow the work," she said. "We live outside the villages, close to the orchards and fields."

Ayla nodded thoughtfully, accepting the explanation. "That must be tough, moving around so much."

"It is," Paola replied, grateful that Ayla seemed to believe her. "But it’s all I’ve ever known." Ayla’s eyes softened with empathy. "How did you fix my arm?" Paola asked, hoping to shift the focus away from herself.

Ayla narrowed her eyes slightly, curiosity gleaming in her mismatched gaze. "Do you not have healing potions where you’re from?"

Paola quickly corrected herself, shaking her head. "We do, but only healing herbs. We can’t afford potions."

Ayla’s expression turned understanding, and a bit sorrowful. "Ah, that makes sense. Herbs are effective, but they take time. You must come from a very humble background."

Paola nodded, trying to keep her story straight. "Yes, we’re quite poor." These were all half-truths.

"What’s life like for you?" Ayla asked, her tone soft and genuinely curious.

Paola thought back to her childhood, deciding to draw from her real experiences. "I spent most of my time working with my dad in the orchards," she began. "When I wasn’t working, I’d read or sing. It was simple, but it was home."

Ayla perked up at the mention of singing. "You sing?" she asked, her interest evident.

Paola hesitated but then nodded. "Yes, it’s something I love to do. It helps pass the time." She stared into the fire. “Although, it’s not something I’d do in front of anyone. Ever.”

Ayla smiled warmly. "What language were you singing in when I found you?"

Paola paused, choosing not to lie. "It’s called Spanish. It’s a language from my home."

Ayla’s eyes lit up with appreciation. "It sounded beautiful. I’ve never heard anything like it."

Paola felt a small surge of pride at Ayla’s compliment. "Thank you," she said softly.

Ayla nodded, her expression thoughtful. "You have a lovely voice. I thought it was some sort of ritual or spell at first."

Paola chuckled nervously. "No, just singing to calm myself."

Ayla's smile widened. "Well, it worked. It was very calming to hear, even in such strange circumstances."

Paola felt a bit more at ease, grateful for Ayla’s kindness. "I’m glad," she replied.

Ayla continued to ask leading questions, trying to piece together Paola’s story. "So, you’ve never heard of the Lady class or the Sword Maidens. Is there any kind of structure like that in your home? Any formal roles or titles?"

Paola shook her head. "I mean I’m sure there is, within the city walls and what not. “She drew from her knowledge of anime. “We’re just simple folk. Titles and roles are for the wealthy and powerful."

Ayla nodded, seemingly satisfied with Paola’s answers. "I understand. Life must be very different for you."

"It is," Paola agreed, relieved that Ayla seemed to believe her.

Ayla’s expression turned serious. "Well, I’ll do my best to help you. Even if it takes a while, we’ll get you back to where you belong."

Paola felt a wave of gratitude. "Thank you," she said earnestly. "I appreciate it more than you know."

Ayla smiled softly. "It’s my duty. And besides, I couldn’t just leave you out here alone."

Paola nodded, feeling a growing sense of trust in Ayla. Despite the surrealness of her situation, she was starting to feel a bit more secure. "I don't even know what to say," Paola finally uttered, a hint of vulnerability seeping into her voice.

Ayla's gaze grew more intent. "You've been through a lot," she noted. "I'm just glad I found you."

Paola took a deep breath, a slight shiver passing over her. "I can't thank you enough," she whispered.

Ayla's eyes softened. "Besides, you have a beautiful singing voice," she said playfully. Ayla's eyes flickered with curiosity as she studied Paola. "Plus, when I first saw you, I thought you were performing a ritual," she mentions again before continuing. "Some witches and wood nymphs tend to be in a state of undress during their ceremonies. Even some werewolves prefer running around naked, as they hate tearing off their clothing during transformations."

Paola did her best to maintain a casual demeanor, nodding along as Ayla casually spoke of witches, wood nymphs, and werewolves. She couldn't help but be fascinated by the strange, new world she found herself in, but she kept her expression neutral.

Ayla’s eyes softened with a hint of sadness. "Seeing you like this, it breaks my heart. It must have been a summoning gone wrong."

Paola glanced down at herself, feeling the chill of the evening air against her skin. "Do you have any extra clothes?" she asked hesitantly, looking at Ayla’s own scant uniform.

Ayla shook her head, a hint of regret in her eyes. "I’m afraid not. I only have what I wear and very limited supplies in my dimensional ring," she said, tapping the ring on her finger.

Paola nodded, trying to keep a straight face despite the mind-boggling things Ayla was talking about. "Dimensional ring," she repeated, marveling at the casual mention of such fantastical items.

Ayla blushed slightly, realizing she had been talking a lot. "I’m sorry, I’ve been rambling."

Paola smiled for the first time since they met, feeling a bit more at ease. "No, it’s been helpful. It’s a good distraction."

Ayla smiled back, appreciating the reassurance. "I’m glad," she said softly. Then, seeing that Paola had calmed down, she asked again, "Are you sure you don’t know what province you’re from?"

Paola hesitated, then shook her head. "I was never taught. It wasn’t needed. We learned how to survive, no more than that."

Ayla’s expression turned somber, her eyes reflecting sympathy. "I understand. There are several tribes that still live in similar situations. Survival comes first."

Paola felt a wave of relief. Although she wasn’t trying to lie, she was still unsure if telling the truth was the best option. "Thank you," she said quietly. "It’s nice to know you understand."

Ayla nodded. "I do. And I’ll do my best to help you."

Paola appreciated Ayla’s sincerity. Despite the strangeness of the world she had fallen into, Ayla’s presence was comforting. "How did you become a Sword Maiden?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Ayla’s eyes lit up with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. "It took years of training," she explained. "Both in combat and in courtly duties. It’s a blend of the Quarts-tier Lady class and the Obsidian-class Warrior. Sword Maidens are trained to protect and serve, ensuring the safety of important figures."

Paola nodded, trying to absorb the information. "That sounds impressive."

Ayla smiled warmly. "It is demanding, but it’s a role I’m proud of. To be a Sword Maiden is a privilege, and I take my responsibilities seriously." She gave a small shrug. "Plus, coming out here was better than being a servant at the castle. Being able to fight, to protect those in need, is an honor. Plus, the pay is better."

Paola couldn't help but laugh at Ayla's comment, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I see." She paused before asking the question that's been burning in her mind. She looked up, her almond eyes meeting Ayla's mismatched ones. "So, uh, here. Where are we, exactly?"

Ayla's expression shifted, a flicker of surprise passing over her features. "The Spinal Range," she answered simply, studying Paola closely. "How have you not heard of this place? The mountains, the forests... these are things people have been talking about for centuries. The Leviathan's Ribcage? The Serpent's Tail? None of these names sound familiar to you?"

Paola's heart raced, panic rising in her chest. She pursed her lips, shaking her head slowly. "Nope," she answered, struggling to keep her tone even. "Sorry."

Ayla frowned, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure?" she pressed, her tone tinged with doubt. "It seems odd that you don't even recognize the landmarks, or even the name of the mountain range." She nodded her head in understanding though. "Nomadic, and most likely from another continent, so maybe it's not that odd after all." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, maybe you're from the Far Reaches?"

Paola had no idea what Ayla was talking about, but she just nodded and hoped for the best.

"Worry not, though," Ayla reassured her. "Some failed summoning's have pulled tribals from their lands, even from the far reaches, so I'm sure there is a reason. We had no way to communicate with them, and if I remember correctly, we were still capable of getting them back."

Paola nodded along, pretending to understand, hoping her ignorance wouldn't be a problem.

"So, I have a plan," Ayla continued, her voice growing more animated. "I'll take you to the nearest city. We'll rest there, get you some proper clothing, and figure out our next steps." This time her finger tapped her lower lip, a small smile playing on her lips as she continued. "So, you have no clue where we are? No idea of what province or city this is?"

"Not a clue," Paola replied, her anxiety mounting.

Ayla sighed, her expression sympathetic. "I see," she said softly. "Maybe I should explain then," she added.

Paola nodded. "Please."

Ayla smiled, taking on a patient, teacher-like tone. "We’re in the Seracian Sands Province, under the Recaea Empire," she began. "The closest city is the capital, Valarian."

Paola nodded, trying to process the information. "Valarian?" she asked, hoping to learn more about this strange new world.

"Valarian is a magnificent city," Ayla explained, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "It’s built around Air Magic, specifically wind. The city is known for its soaring towers and flowing architecture, all designed to harness and manipulate the air. It’s a Jade Tier land in its elemental charge."

Paola nodded along, pretending to understand. Magic? Magic is real here? Air magic? Like the elements? She kept her face neutral, doing her best to appear knowledgeable.

Ayla continued, clearly enjoying the role of instructor. "The wind currents in Valarian are controlled to create a harmonious environment. The city is always breezy and cool, which is a relief given the desert surroundings. It’s an incredible place, bustling with life and activity."

Paola listened intently, though her mind struggled to keep up with the unfamiliar concepts. "How far is Valarian from here?" she asked, hoping it wasn’t too far.

Ayla’s expression turned somber, and she almost reluctantly answered, "It’s about two and a half weeks’ journey on foot."

Paola felt the color drain from her face, the reality of her situation hitting her hard. Two and a half weeks? Her heart pounded in her chest, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

Ayla noticed the change in Paola’s demeanor. "Are you okay?" she asked gently, concern etched in her mismatched eyes.

Paola pulled her legs in closer, trying to preserve her modesty and hide her growing anxiety. She nodded, forcing a weak smile. "Yes, I’m fine. Please, continue about Valarian."

Ayla hesitated for a moment, then continued, describing the vibrant markets, the majestic palace, and the intricate airships that floated gracefully above the city. She spoke of the various guilds, the schools of magic, and the beautiful parks that were lush and green, how even the land itself was vibrant with life although it mostly being sand.

But Paola barely heard any of it. She focused on her breathing, trying to push back the rising tide of panic. Two and a half weeks. The thought echoed in her mind, amplifying her fear and uncertainty. She felt a wave of dizziness and nausea, but she fought to keep it at bay. Ayla’s voice became a distant murmur as Paola's thoughts swirled chaotically. She hugged her legs tighter, burying her face in her arms. Her breaths came in shallow gasps as she tried to calm herself, forcing back the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her.

Without realizing it, the exhaustion of the day caught up with her. The warmth of the fire, Ayla’s soothing voice, and the sheer mental and emotional fatigue took their toll. Paola’s eyelids grew heavy, and despite her best efforts to stay alert, she felt herself slipping into sleep. Ayla’s stories became a distant hum as Paola’s consciousness faded. She felt a strange mix of fear and comfort, knowing she wasn’t alone but still grappling with the enormity of her predicament. Her last thoughts were of home, of the life she had known, and the vast, unknown journey ahead of her.

With her head resting on her arms, Paola finally succumbed to sleep, her body and mind seeking respite from the day’s events. She didn’t dream of zombies or falling stars; instead, her mind was overcome with one thought and one thought alone. Two weeks.

Two fucking weeks.