The Chronicles of a Fallen Star

Lady Marcelline’s mood had soured by the time she was to meet with Queen Mirella Vireo. The news of the Queen’s sudden change of plans had come via a messenger bird, a sleek black raven with a small scroll tied to its leg. The Queen, ever the master of political maneuvering, had been forced into other activities at the moment. Lady Marcelline’s icy blue eyes flickered with irritation as she read the message. She could not afford to falter. The meeting was critical, and she wasn’t sure when she would get another chance.

Her foot tapped impatiently, a rare display of frustration for someone as composed as Lady Marcelline. She was alone in her office, the heavy wooden door closed tightly, and the flickering light from the chandelier casting shadows across the room. The papers on her desk were strewn haphazardly rather than neatly organized, a testament to her disrupted state of mind. She forced herself to calm down, taking a deep breath and smoothing her robes.

The garments she wore were a blend of elegant silk and velvet in deep blue and gray, adorned with subtle magical runes for personal defense. Beneath the robes, she wore a dramatic gown with elaborate embroidery of her family’s heraldry, enhanced with precious stones and enchantments for allure and protection. She looked every bit the dignified lady of Valarian, but inside, her thoughts were anything but calm.

She moved back to her desk and grabbed a couple of documents, her eyes scanning for critical information. Her icy blue eyes froze over a line she had been looking for. Placed within, as casual as could be, worded so that it wouldn’t be noticed immediately, was the plan. In three days’ time, she was to meet with Duchess Rohez Genovete and Duke Alric Genovete. She took a deep breath, knowing that soon enough, all these political games would come to an end. The Festival of Breath was approaching, and with it, the time for truths to be revealed.

Her mind wandered back to Ayla. She wondered if Ta’huka would perform his job well enough. If Paola was who she suspected her to be, then from the information she’d gathered, Paola should get along with him well enough. Resources from Thrix’s circle had mentioned the woman running around naked. Lady Marcelline, being a dignified woman, could never imagine such a thing. She looked down at her robes and smiled faintly. There was something in Paola’s eyes, something that represented more than an earth or wood affinity. There was a deeper mystery there, one she was determined to unravel.

Ayla was important to her, more than a mere subordinate. She was like a daughter, someone in whom she had invested so much. Ayla was on track to become a formidable force, a cornerstone in Marcelline’s plans. The faint smile on her lips reflected her satisfaction with Ayla’s progress. She would not interfere personally, yet. So long as Ayla stayed focused on the right path. But Paola… there was something about her that made Marcelline cautious.

Ta’huka wasn’t there to get between them. He was there to gauge Paola’s true nature, to see if she was a threat or an asset. Lady Marcelline knew that protecting Ayla was paramount, and if Paola posed any risk, she would have to act. She trusted Ayla’s judgment, but she couldn’t ignore the nagging suspicion that there was more to Paola than met the eye.

Her thoughts drifted to the upcoming Festival of Breath. The preparations were in full swing, and the entire city buzzed with anticipation. The festival was a time of celebration, of renewal, and of truth. Secrets would be unveiled, alliances tested, and new paths forged. Lady Marcelline knew that her own position would be under scrutiny, and she had to be prepared for anything.

She stood and moved to the window, looking out over the city of Valarian. The view was breathtaking, the sprawling metropolis bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Airships drifted lazily through the sky, their sails catching the light and casting long shadows over the buildings below. The city was a hive of activity, with people bustling about, preparing for the festivities.

Lady Marcelline’s gaze shifted to the distant mountains, their peaks shrouded in mist. Somewhere out there, Ayla and Paola were likely preparing for their own challenges. She hoped Ta’huka would do his part, that he would be able to see through whatever façade Paola presented. The fate of her plans hinged on understanding who Paola truly was and what her intentions might be.

She returned to her desk, her mind racing with possibilities. The documents she had been reviewing held the key to the future, and she needed to ensure that every detail was accounted for. Her fingers brushed over the intricate designs on the parchment, her thoughts drifting back to Ayla. She trusted her, but she also knew that love and loyalty could cloud even the sharpest mind.

Lady Marcelline’s resolve hardened. She would do whatever it took to protect Ayla and ensure the success of her plans. Paola might be an unknown variable, but she would be watched closely. The Festival of Breath would reveal many truths, and she would be ready to act on them.

As the last light of day faded, Lady Marcelline’s office remained a beacon of calm and order amidst the chaos of the world outside. She had much to do, and time was running short. But she was confident in her abilities and her network of allies. She would navigate the political landscape with the same precision and grace that had brought her this far. And when the time came, she would ensure that her vision for Valarian was realized, no matter the cost.

***

Paola sat on the edge of the bed, her face flushed red as she thought about the events from the night before. She swallowed, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Ayla was still asleep, her peaceful breathing a gentle reminder of their closeness. It was early—far earlier than Paola ever woke up. The alcohol had worn off, leaving her awake and restless.

She remembered how she had gotten a little rough with Ayla, saying things she would never have said without the influence of wine. Her cheeks burned with the memory, but she couldn’t ignore the thrill that accompanied it. Ayla had enjoyed it, maybe even more than she expected. The thought threw her off, and she laughed softly, shaking her head as she threw her cloak on and tied her hair up in a messy ponytail.

Getting dressed was easy, given her minimal attire. She chuckled to herself as she left the room, her bare feet padding quietly on the cool stone floors. She thought she remembered the way to the kitchen but found herself taking several wrong turns. The palace was a maze, and she was hopelessly lost.

Finally, she ran into Gwenore, who narrowed her eyes at Paola.

“Lost, Paola?” Gwenore asked, her tone sharp but not unkind.

Paola laughed nervously, trying to explain herself. “I’m looking for the kitchen. I thought I knew the way, but... well, it’s easy to get turned around in here.”

Gwenore’s gaze remained skeptical. “Why are you looking for the kitchen?”

Paola was caught off guard by the obvious question. “I was, uh, looking for food.”

Gwenore nodded, seeming to understand, much to Paola’s confusion. “Food, of course. Follow me, I’ll show you the way.”

As they walked, Paola tried to make small talk, the silence between them feeling awkward. “So, Gwenore, do you dislike me?”

Gwenore was caught off guard by the straightforwardness of the question but replied with her own honesty. “I don’t dislike you, Paola. But I do have reservations about Ayla.”

Paola frowned. “Why?”

Gwenore sighed, her expression thoughtful. “Ayla has been given too many chances to prove herself. She’s treated like a golden child that spits out her food because it was served to her on a silver platter.”

Paola was surprised by the bluntness of Gwenore’s words. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

Gwenore continued, her tone steady. “I was hired by chance by Lady Marcelline and would never give reason to show I’m disloyal. Ayla, on the other hand, has shown signs of not wanting to be here. It’s sad because Lady Marcelline has done nothing but give that woman everything she’s ever wanted.”

Paola could understand that Gwenore had come from humble backgrounds, and it was clear she had a deep loyalty to Lady Marcelline. “I see,” Paola said, her tone contemplative. “That must be frustrating.”

Gwenore nodded. “It is. But my loyalty remains with Lady Marcelline. Ayla has her own journey to figure out.”

They finally reached the kitchen, where the staff was already hard at work. Paola spotted the head chef from before and approached him with a smile. “Good morning! Do you remember me?”

The head chef, a stout man with a kind face, grinned. “Of course, Lady Paola. My name is Chef Roland. My team loved the tacos you made with us last time.”

Paola laughed. “I’m glad to hear that! Just don’t go stealing my recipe.”

Chef Roland looked momentarily scared, but Paola quickly reassured him. “I’m only joking, Chef. I’m glad you all enjoyed it.”

Chef Roland relaxed and asked, “What brings you to the kitchen this morning, Lady Paola?”

Paola was always caught off guard by the title. “Please, just call me Paola. I was hoping to make breakfast. Have you ever made pancakes?”

The staff exchanged confused glances, and Paola’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh, you’re in for a treat. Let me show you how.”

Paola moved to an empty counter, gathering ingredients as she explained the process. “Pancakes are a family breakfast recipe from where I’m from. You’ll need flour, eggs, milk, sugar, and a bit of baking powder.”

The staff watched curiously as Paola mixed the ingredients, her hands moving deftly. “First, you mix the dry ingredients,” she said, demonstrating. “Then you add the wet ingredients and stir until it’s smooth.”

Chef Roland watched with interest. “It seems simple enough. What’s next?”

Paola grinned. “Next, you heat a griddle or a frying pan. You pour a bit of batter onto the hot surface and cook until you see bubbles forming. Then you flip it and cook until it’s golden brown.”

As Paola demonstrated, the staff gathered around, fascinated by the process. They were clearly impressed with her easygoing nature and willingness to share her knowledge.

Paola flipped the first pancake, revealing its golden-brown underside. “See? It’s easy and delicious.”

Chef Roland nodded appreciatively. “You make it look easy, Lady Paola.”

Paola smiled. “It’s all about practice. Would anyone like to try?”

A young cook stepped forward, hesitantly taking the spatula. Paola guided her through the process, offering tips and encouragement. The kitchen staff gradually became more involved, each taking turns making pancakes and adding their own touches.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was relaxed and fun, with laughter and chatter filling the air. Paola felt at ease, enjoying the camaraderie. “This is what I love about cooking,” she said. “It brings people together.”

Eventually, Paola set up two plates, one for herself and one for Ayla. She thanked the staff for their help and said her goodbyes, making her way back to Ayla’s room.

As she walked through the corridors, she reflected on her conversation with Gwenore. It had given her a lot to think about, particularly regarding Ayla’s place in this world and her own feelings about their relationship.

Paola entered the room quietly, finding Ayla still asleep. She set the plates down and sat beside her on the bed, gently brushing a strand of hair from Ayla’s face. Ayla stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“Good morning,” Paola said softly.

Ayla smiled sleepily, then her face turned a cherry red, nearly matching her one red eye. Her hands flew up to cover her face. “Morning,” she mumbled through her fingers.

Paola grinned, unable to resist teasing her. “I made breakfast. Pancakes. I thought it might be a nice way to start the day. I’ll let you off easy today, though.”

Ayla groaned into her hands. “You’re never going to let me forget last night, are you?”

Paola giggled, loving the tease of Ayla’s secret submissive side. “Not a chance. It’s too much fun seeing you like this.”

Ayla peeked out from behind her hands, her blush deepening. “You’re terrible.”

“And you love it,” Paola retorted, her smile widening. “But don’t worry, I won’t tease you too much. What’s the plan for today?”

Ayla took a deep breath, lowering her hands and regaining some composure. “We’re supposed to meet up with Ta’huka and your instructor again until Lady Marcelline returns tonight.”

Paola nodded, her tone turning playful once more. “I guess I’ll have to save my teasing for later, then. For now, let’s eat.”

Ayla’s curiosity got the better of her as she looked at the pancakes. “What are these?”

“Pancakes,” Paola said, her eyes twinkling. “Something from my home. Give them a try.”

Ayla took a tentative bite, her eyes widening in surprise. “These are amazing! I’ve never had anything like this before.”

Paola beamed, feeling a sense of pride. “I’m glad you like them. It’s a family recipe... sort of.”

They sat together, enjoying the pancakes and the quiet intimacy of the morning. Paola felt a sense of contentment, knowing that despite the challenges ahead, she had found a new sense of purpose and connection in this strange, magical world. As they finished their breakfast, Paola leaned over and kissed Ayla on the cheek.

“Thanks for last night,” Paola whispered.

Ayla blushed again, but this time she smiled. “Thank you for breakfast.”

***

Selene moved through the narrow, twisting streets of Valarian with practiced ease, her footsteps silent on the cobblestone paths. The deeper she ventured into the city, the more the buildings leaned toward each other, casting long shadows that cloaked her in darkness. The alleys became a maze, designed to confuse and mislead any outsiders foolish enough to wander in. This was the Shadow's Corner, the notorious headquarters of the Thieves' Guild, where law enforcement feared to tread.

Her destination was Korran Blacktail, known as the Blood Architect, the formidable head of the guild. She clutched the Feather of the Thunderwolf in her pocket, knowing its value would grant her an audience with the powerful crime lord. As she navigated the labyrinthine alleyways, she remained vigilant, her eyes scanning for any sign of danger. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and the faint, metallic scent of blood—a reminder of the ruthless world she was about to step into.

Finally, she arrived at a nondescript door, guarded by two burly men who eyed her warily. Selene nodded to them, her expression calm and confident. One of the guards knocked on the door in a specific pattern, and it swung open to reveal a dimly lit room. She stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a heavy thud.

The room was large, with walls lined with weapons and artifacts. A chandelier made of twisted metal and glass cast eerie shadows across the floor. At the far end of the room stood Korran Blacktail. He was an imposing figure, standing at 6'5" with a muscular build that spoke of his gladiatorial past. His body was covered in scars, each a testament to battles fought and won. His chiseled jawline and slightly crooked nose added to his intimidating presence, and his piercing dark eyes seemed to see through her. Korran’s jet black hair was kept short, and his neatly trimmed beard framed a stern expression that rarely softened.

Korran wore a combination of gladiatorial armor and practical clothing. His upper body was adorned with a leather cuirass reinforced with metal plates, offering both protection and mobility. Sturdy trousers and heavy boots completed his outfit, and a dark cloak flowed dramatically behind him as he moved.

"Selene," Korran's deep voice rumbled, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Selene stepped forward, her hand slipping into her pocket to grasp the feather. The air in the room seemed to thicken with anticipation. "I need information, Korran. And I have something that might interest you."

Korran raised an eyebrow, his intrigue barely veiled behind his stern expression. "Go on."

With deliberate slowness, Selene pulled out the Feather of the Thunderwolf, holding it up to catch the flickering light from the chandelier. The feather shimmered with an iridescent glow, tiny sparks of electricity dancing along its edges. Korran's eyes widened slightly, a rare display of emotion from the usually unflappable crime lord.

"Impressive," he murmured, stepping closer to examine the feather. He extended a hand but stopped short of touching it, clearly aware of its potent magic. "You’ve certainly piqued my interest. What do you want in exchange?"

Selene steadied her voice, keeping her gaze locked with Korran's. "I need a lucrative target. And I know you have the information I need."

Korran's piercing dark eyes seemed to bore into her, weighing her request. He nodded slowly, a calculating look on his face. "Alright. But before we discuss targets, there's something you need to know."

He turned and began pacing the room, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor. The shadows cast by the chandelier danced across the walls, adding to the tense atmosphere. Selene watched him, her curiosity and apprehension growing with each step he took.

Korran finally stopped and faced her, his expression unreadable. "There's been a hit placed on Thrix Yas'tavot by Lady Marcelline herself." He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. His lips curled into a nasty smile, clearly savoring the chaos this news could bring. "I can give you information to dismantle either one, but I understand your relations with the spider."

Selene's heart raced at the mention of Thrix. The implications were immense, and she knew she needed to tread carefully. "If you can give me access to his location, I can use that to our advantage. I need to see him."

Korran's smile faded into a thoughtful frown. He walked over to a large, intricately carved desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. "Thrix has been a thorn in many sides, mine included. But Lady Marcelline's involvement complicates things. She's powerful, and her reach is extensive."

He paused, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied Selene. "Why do you need to see him? What's your angle here?"

Selene took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "Thrix has information that could be crucial to both of us. If I can get to him, we can turn this situation to our advantage. But I need your help to do it."

Korran's gaze remained fixed on her, his expression inscrutable. After a long moment, he nodded. "Alright. I'll give you the information you need. But there's a price."

Selene's fingers tightened around the feather in her pocket. "Name it."

Korran's wicked grin returned. "For a blood oath on that feather, I'll give you free access to any information you need. Think of it as a binding agreement—a guarantee of your loyalty."

Selene's mind raced. A blood oath was a serious commitment, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. She nodded, her resolve firm. "Agreed."

Korran's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he pulled out a contract, the parchment old and worn, but imbued with a dark magic that made the ink shimmer. He placed it on the table and pricked his finger with a small dagger, letting a drop of blood fall onto the parchment. The blood soaked into the paper, sealing the contract with his essence.

"Your turn," he said, handing her the dagger.

Selene hesitated for a moment, then took the dagger and pricked her own finger. She let a drop of blood fall onto the parchment, the magic binding her to the oath. The feather in her hand pulsed with energy, as if acknowledging the agreement.

Korran rolled up the contract and placed it in a secure box. "Welcome to the Shadow's Corner, Selene. You now have access to any information you need."

Selene nodded, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. "Thank you, Korran."

He leaned back, his expression serious. "Now, about Thrix. He's been moving around, keeping a low profile. But I have sources that can track his movements. Give me a day, and I'll have his location for you."

Selene's eyes flashed with determination. "That’s all I need."

Korran’s gaze shifted, his piercing dark eyes softened slightly, a rare moment of genuine concern. "Are you sure, Selene? The game you're playing is dangerous, and the stakes are high."

Selene nodded, the Feather of the Thunderwolf still warm in her pocket. "I know. But I don’t have a choice."

Korran held his arms out to his sides, a gesture that conveyed both openness and authority. "You have a rare opportunity here. With this contract, I’m bound to answer honestly anything the guild knows. This is a power that no one but myself has ever wielded."

Selene blinked, the weight of the contract she had entered into with Korran beginning to dawn on her. She had not fully grasped the extent of what she had bargained for, and a pang of guilt over taking the feather from Poca began to bubble up once more.

Korran’s voice boomed, jolting her back to the present. He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that filled the room. "As a freebie, I'll tell you this: Thrix has managed to get himself into trouble with both the nobles and the big wigs in the slums at the same time."

Selene's eyes widened as she finally understood the magnitude of her situation. She had a chance to learn everything she needed. "Tell me everything, Korran. Start from the beginning."

Korran leaned back, his gaze never leaving hers. "Thrix came back through the slums with Ovochos' men on his tail. Not immediately on his tail, but within the next day or so, they came and tore the place apart searching for him. Thrix, of course, slipped back Uptown, to his palace. But that wasn't before he stirred up a lot of trouble."

Selene’s heart broke as she realized the truth about what had happened. "He was there for me, wasn't he?" she whispered, more to herself than to Korran.

Korran nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, he was. He managed to save Ayla Guinenne along the way, too. You might recognize her as the Sword Maiden." She was the one Thrix was fighting back at Ovochos' farm before he took her arm, Selene thought silently.

Selene's mind reeled with the information. She had left Thrix behind, thinking he was just another part of her chaotic life, only to realize he had been there for her all along. "And Ayla? What happened to her?"

Korran leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Ayla returned to Lady Marcelline's palace. Her report indicated that Thrix was aware she had come into contact with a fallen star of some sort. That's the only piece of information Thrix hasn't told anyone, or maybe he doesn't know the full extent of it. But it's confirmed that Ayla has one."

"Fallen star?" Selene's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Korran shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "Lady Marcelline has paid several assassins to take out Thrix. They are probably in motion as we speak. She believes that the spider has spun his last web, trying to catch what belongs to the Leviathan or something."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Selene demanded, her frustration growing.

Korran sighed, shaking his head. "It means there are bigger players involved, Selene. The Leviathan is a name that commands fear and respect. Whoever or whatever it is, it has stakes in this game too."

Selene tried to wrap her mind around everything she had just learned. "Tell me more about this fallen star that Ayla is related to."

Korran's gaze turned thoughtful. "All I know is what I told you. Ayla came into contact with a fallen star, and she reported it to Lady Marcelline. The only other detail is that she encountered a naked woman. If you know anything about the fallen stars, coming gearless means she's just a nobody."

Selene's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information. Everything was hard to comprehend, but she knew she had to find Thrix. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Korran studied her for a moment before shaking his head. "That's all I have for now. But you can stay in one of the Guild's suites for the night. You'll be safe here."

Selene nodded, knowing she needed to rest and gather her thoughts before making her next move. "Thank you, Korran."

He stood, leading her to a door at the back of the room. "This way. The suite is modest but comfortable. Get some rest, Selene. You'll need your strength for what's to come."

Selene followed him down a dimly lit corridor, her mind still racing with everything she had learned. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of battle and conquest, a testament to the guild's storied history. Korran stopped in front of a wooden door, pushing it open to reveal a small, cozy room.

The suite was simple but well-furnished. A bed with a thick, quilted blanket occupied one corner, and a small table with a basin of water stood near the window. Selene stepped inside, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on her.

Korran gave her a nod. "Rest well, Selene. We'll talk more in the morning."

Selene watched him leave, the door closing softly behind him. She sank onto the bed, her mind spinning with possibilities. The Feather of the Thunderwolf still pulsed with a faint energy in her pocket, a reminder of the power she held.

As she lay down, the events of the day played over and over in her mind. Thrix had been there for her, risking everything to save her, and she had run away. Guilt gnawed at her, but she knew she couldn't afford to dwell on it. She had to focus on finding Thrix and uncovering the truth about the fallen stars.

The Festival of Breath was approaching, and with it, there would be moves to be made, as there always was. Selene closed her eyes, exhaustion finally taking over. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, she allowed herself a moment of respite. As she drifted off to sleep, the Feather of the Thunderwolf glowed faintly in the darkness, a beacon of hope and power, of betrayal. She hoped she could use it for good, to set things right, and to make up for her mistakes. She'd repay Poca one day, she knew. For now, though, she had a spider to save.