The Chronicles of a Fallen Star

Ayla hesitated, her eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. "Paola, can you tell me again how you came to this world? I'm still trying to understand." She was tapping her lip with her finger, again.

Paola sighed, looking into the fire. "Sure," she said softly, her mind already drifting back to that day. "It was a Saturday. I was helping my mom with paperwork. We were getting my sister set up for citizenship," she explained, knowing Ayla wouldn't fully grasp the concept. "It was a long day."

Ayla nodded, listening intently.

"We were heading home, just me and my mom, when the car had a flat tire around nine at night. No way to call anyone, so I had to change it," Paola continued, her tone casual but tinged with frustration. "Everything we had was broken and put back together in a way only my dad knew how to make it work. By the time I got back to my apartment, I was exhausted."

Ayla's brow furrowed. "That sounds difficult."

"It was," Paola admitted, a faint smile playing at her lips. "I had to clean my clothes and take a shower. The laundry took until two am in the apartment's laundromat. I was so tired. Then, when I went to shower, there was no hot water."

Ayla looked sympathetic. "You must have been so frustrated."

"Yeah," Paola replied simply, her mind drifting to the strange events that followed. "I was naked, about to shower. I stepped out of the bathroom... and my apartment was gone."

Ayla's eyes widened. "Gone? How?"

"The doorway from the bathroom to the rest of my apartment acted like a gateway, I guess" Paola said, her voice distant as she recalled the moment. "I remember staring into the void, feeling like I was holding on for dear life. My towel slipped away, and then I did too. Everything I loved was gone."

She paused, her eyes fixed on the fire, the memory pulling her back. She intentionally left out the part about her parents, the last day they had together wasn’t the best. She couldn't think about them now. It would break her.

"I fell," Paola continued after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. "I landed here and woke up in that hole. Then I followed the river and... that's when the zombies attacked me."

Ayla reached out and gently touched Paola's arm, bringing her back to the present. "And that's when I found you," she said softly.

Paola nodded, her gaze still distant. "Yes. You saved me."

Ayla's touch was comforting, grounding Paola in the present. "You've been through so much," Ayla murmured. "It's incredible that you're still standing."

Paola gave a small, humorless laugh. "Barely."

"But you're here," Ayla insisted, her voice firm. "You're strong, Paola. Stronger than you realize."

Paola finally looked at Ayla, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and sadness. "I don't feel strong," she admitted. "I feel lost. I miss my family, my home."

Ayla's eyes softened. "I know. And I'm sorry you're going through this. But you're not alone. I'm here with you."

Paola took a deep breath, the warmth of Ayla's words soothing her. "Thank you," she said simply.

Ayla gave her a reassuring smile. "We'll get through this together. One step at a time."

Paola nodded, feeling a flicker of hope. "Okay. One step at a time."

They sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling softly between them. The night was growing colder, but Paola felt a sense of warmth and safety she hadn't felt in a long time. She glanced at Ayla, the Sword Maiden's face illuminated by the firelight, and felt a deep gratitude for her presence.

Paola glanced at Ayla, curiosity dancing in her eyes. "How did you end up here, Ayla?"

Ayla raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean here with you, or here in Valarian?"

Paola gave a small laugh, desperately trying to think of anything else but home. "The first one." She narrowed her eyes at Ayla. "For now." Paola smiled.

Ayla smiled in return, taking a moment before answering. "I lead a small team that protects Lady Marcelline's carriage. We were traveling through the Spinal Range, on a mission, when we were attacked by Cave Hounds. It was one of the largest packs we've ever encountered."

Paola's eyes widened. "That sounds terrifying."

Ayla nodded, her expression growing serious. "It was. We were guarding Lady Marcelline's carriage, and the Cave Hounds came out of nowhere. We fought them off, but in the chaos, I got separated from the carriage and my team. I had to lure the pack across an old rickety bridge in the mountains and took the bridge out behind me."

Paola listened intently, her heart pounding at the thought of Ayla facing such danger alone.

Ayla continued, her voice steady. "I managed to escape the Cave Hounds, but I was alone in the mountains. My mission was to protect Lady Marcelline, so I had to find a way back to her. I knew the path, but it was dangerous and uncertain."

Paola leaned in, captivated by Ayla's story.

"I was making my way back when I saw you fall from the sky," Ayla said, her tone softening. "I followed the trail you left behind—broken branches, disturbed earth. It was clear you were scared and hurt. Then I found the dead zombies and realized you had been attacked."

Paola shivered at the memory. "They almost got me."

Ayla nodded, her expression gentle. "You were in bad shape when I found you. I gave you a healing potion while you slept and stayed with you to keep you warm through the night."

Paola's eyes softened, her gratitude deepening. "You saved my life. Seriously."

Ayla shrugged, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "It was the right thing to do."

Paola sat in silence, processing everything Ayla had shared. She felt a mixture of awe and admiration for the Sword Maiden. "Thank you," she finally said, her voice filled with sincerity. "For everything. I know I've said it like a million times already, but, really. Thank you."

Ayla's eyes were warm, a faint smile playing at her lips. "Of course, Paola."

The fire between them burned low, the embers glowing in the darkness. As the fire burned dimmed, Ayla reached into her ring and summoned the bedroll. Paola watched in amazement as the simple blanket appeared, unfurling onto the ground. It wasn't much, just a thin layer of fabric between them and the rocky terrain, but Paola didn't complain. The warmth that radiated from Ayla was far more comforting than any blanket could ever be.

Paola lay down on the bedroll, feeling the rocks and pebbles pressing against her through the thin fabric. The sandy, mountainous terrain was far from comfortable, but she was so tired that she didn't care. It was flat enough, and that was all that mattered.

Ayla settled beside her, her body radiating a magnificent heat. It wasn't overwhelming, like the uncontrolled heat that made Paola need a fan back at home. Instead, it was a soothing warmth that enveloped her, making her feel safe and protected. Paola thought briefly of her bed back home, with the open window and the fan blowing on her as she struggled to find a comfortable position. It was never easy to fall asleep, but here, lying on the flat fabric with Ayla's warmth, she felt a sense of peace she hadn't experienced in a long time.

Ayla leaned in, whispering in Paola's ear as she placed the knife by her side. "There's a ward on the knife. Only you and I can see it until one of us grabs it."

Paola nodded sleepily, her mind already drifting. She thought nothing of the ward as Ayla snuggled up behind her. Paola found herself curling up with her back against Ayla, becoming the little spoon. The sensation of Ayla's warmth against her back was comforting, and she felt herself relax completely. As she stared into the dying fire, her eyes growing heavy, Paola reflected on how far she'd come in such a short time. It's her third night here, and yet, she'd already faced more danger and challenges than she'd ever imagined possible. She wondered what the next day would bring. Yet, at the same time, she felt ready, oddly enough.

With Ayla's arm draped over her and the gentle rise and fall of Ayla's breath against her back, Paola let her eyes drift closed. The last thing she saw was the flickering embers of the fire, casting a soft glow over their little camp. She felt safe, protected, and, for the first time since arriving in this world, truly connected. A small smile tugged at her lips as she drifted off to sleep, a feeling of contentment washing over her.

* * *

The forest was thick with trees, casting long shadows as the sun began to set. A small group of bandits moved through the underbrush, their footsteps mostly quiet. At the front of the group was their leader, a mage named Garrick. He was a tall, wiry man with a sharp gaze and an air of authority. He carried a heavy mace slung over his back, an unusual weapon for a mage, but one he wielded with deadly efficiency.

Behind him, the rest of the group trudged along. There was Leif, a so-called archer who carried a pair of small handaxes instead of a bow. He was a lanky, sarcastic fellow with a constant smirk on his face. Next was Helda, a short, stocky warrior who wielded a staff, her demeanor gruff and impatient. Finally, there was Bram, a large, burly warrior with a pair of daggers strapped to his belt, his face perpetually set in a scowl.

As they moved through the trees, Leif grumbled under his breath. "This is ridiculous. We've been out here for days and haven't found a single person. It's like the blind leading the blind."

Helda snorted in agreement. "Yeah, and I'm getting tired of this damn forest. We should be back in Valarian, hitting up the markets."

Bram, his voice a low rumble, added, "I think the boss has lost his mind. Chasing after fairy tales."

Garrick, his patience wearing thin, finally snapped. He turned on his heel and glared at his team, his eyes blazing with irritation. "Enough! I know what's out here. I've got it on good word from one of the damned Aetherians. The falling star should be out here."

Leif rolled his eyes. "And you believe one of those winged freaks? They can't even agree on what day it is."

Garrick's grip tightened on the mace's handle. "I can't remember the name, but they were credible enough. Until we find it, we'll make do with ensuring none of the locals have found what we're looking for." He pointed to the smoke rising into the air. "And that means checking out that fire."

The team exchanged glances, half eager and half annoyed, but without any other choice, they continued to grumble as they followed their leader. Garrick sighed, knowing this was the way it was and always would be. He shook his head as they complained behind him, but still, they followed.

Helda muttered, "I can't believe we're doing this."

Bram agreed, his voice a low growl. "We're wasting our time. The boss is off his rocker."

Leif snickered, his voice carrying over the other two. "What else is new? He's always chasing after some fool's dream. Hopefully he has a plan this time."

The three continued to grumble, but they followed Garrick as he led the way. Garrick glanced over his shoulder, his expression firm. "Trust me, Leif. I always have a plan."

They continued through the trees, the smoke from the fire growing closer. Garrick's mind raced with possibilities. He knew the falling star was out here somewhere, and he was determined to find it. Even if it meant dealing with his motley crew of complainers.

As they approached the source of the smoke, Garrick held up a hand, signaling for silence. The group fell quiet, their eyes scanning the area. Garrick's ears perked up as he heard the faint crackle of a campfire and the murmur of voices. He motioned for them to spread out and approach cautiously. Leif, Helda, and Bram moved into position, their weapons at the ready. Garrick took a deep breath, his fingers tingling with anticipation. This was it. They were close.

He stepped forward, his voice low and commanding. "Remember, we're looking for the fallen star. But if the locals have anything valuable, don't hesitate to take it. Stay sharp."

The group nodded, their earlier complaints forgotten in the face of potential loot. They crept closer, their eyes locked on the flickering light of the campfire. Garrick's heart pounded in his chest. He knew this could be their chance. He just had to keep his team focused and hope that the falling star was within their grasp.

Garrick led the group in a wide circle around the small camp, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement. Leif moved beside him, quieter than the others, his hand axes glinting faintly in the dim light. They completed a double perimeter check, ensuring that the woman by the fire was alone. Garrick and Leif stared at each other in disbelief. There, next to the dying fire, was a woman, naked and alone. They scanned the area one last time, but there was no one else.

Leif whispered, "Boss, what about the voices we heard earlier?"

Garrick frowned. "It must have been her, talking to herself before she fell asleep. It's the only logical explanation. We cleared the area, and there's no one else here." The woman lay facing the fire, her bare skin illuminated by the flickering flames. Garrick narrowed his eyes, feeling a sense of unease creeping over him.

Leif sneered. "Easy target, eh? Just lying there for the taking."

Garrick shook his head. "This doesn't feel right. My danger sense is whispering."

Leif shrugged, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "If it's only whispering, then it's nothing the four of us can't handle. I'll activate Silent Foot and slap her in the head with this." He waved his axe, evil glinting in his eyes.

Before Garrick could protest, Leif pulled an axe from his side and silently began to move in on the sleeping woman. He crept closer, the campfire casting long shadows as he approached.

Just as Leif was about to strike, there was a sudden movement in the shadows. A blonde-haired woman with a massive broadsword swung at Leif, the force of the blow knocking him back and sending him tumbling across the ground. Leif barely had time to regain his footing before the woman was upon him again.

Leif screamed, "Boss! Help!"

Garrick was already in motion, his mace transforming into a ball of fire, the spikes appearing like razors of solar flares. Bram and Helda quickly followed behind, their faces set in determination. The blonde warrior wore armor that barely covered her, yet she moved with the agility of someone carrying a dagger, not a broadsword. She parried and countered with deadly precision, her strikes powerful and unrelenting.

Garrick swung his flaming mace, but the woman dodged with ease, her broadsword slicing through the air with a deadly grace. Helda lunged with her staff, aiming for the warrior's midsection, but the woman sidestepped and brought the hilt of her sword down on Helda's shoulder, sending her sprawling. Bram, with his massive size and strength, tried to get close enough to use his daggers, but the woman was too quick. She spun around, her broadsword cutting through the air in a deadly arc, slicing Bram's thigh and causing him to stumble.

Garrick, seeing his team falter, enhanced his spell, flames erupting from his mace in a blinding inferno. The woman shielded her eyes but did not retreat. Instead, she charged at Garrick, her broadsword glowing with a blazing light. Their weapons clashed, sparks flying as metal collided. Garrick's strength and magic were formidable, but the woman fought with a ferocity and skill that matched his own. For a moment, it seemed like a stalemate, but then the woman’s broadsword found an opening, slashing across Garrick's arm.

He roared in pain, the flames of his mace flickering. Bram, despite his injury, lunged at the woman from behind, but she spun around, her broadsword cutting through the air with deadly precision. Bram's scream echoed through the night as he fell, blood pouring from a deep wound in his chest. The woman turned to face Garrick again, her eyes blazing with determination. Helda, struggling to her feet, swung her staff at the woman's legs, but the warrior leaped over it with ease, bringing her sword down in a powerful arc that Helda barely managed to block.

Garrick, fury in his eyes, enhanced his spell further. Flames erupted around him, turning the night into day. The woman was momentarily blinded, and Garrick seized the opportunity, striking her with a powerful blow that sent her staggering back. Leif, finally regaining his footing, threw one of his handaxes at the woman. She deflected it with her broadsword, but the distraction gave Helda a chance to strike. Her staff connected with the woman's ribs, eliciting a grunt of pain.

The warrior's eyes blazed with determination. She swung her broadsword in a wide arc, forcing Helda and Leif to retreat. Garrick stepped forward, his mace a blazing inferno, and swung at the woman with all his might. The clash of their weapons echoed through the forest, sparks flying as metal met metal. The woman's movements were a blur, her broadsword dancing through the air with deadly precision. She parried Garrick's strikes and countered with powerful blows of her own.

Despite their combined efforts, the bandits were no match for the woman's skill and ferocity. She fought with a determination that seemed almost otherworldly, her broadsword a blur of deadly steel. Leif lunged at her again, but she sidestepped and brought her sword down on his leg, severing it at the knee. Leif screamed in agony, rolling away and disappearing into the underbrush, his screams fading into the distance.

Bram, seeing an opening, thought he had the advantage. He managed to get close enough to plunge his daggers into her chest, but the woman activated her mirror mantle ability. Bram realized too late that the wounds appeared on his own body. As he pulled the blades from her chest, he stumbled, blood pouring from his own wounds. The woman snatched the healing potions from his hands as he fell, fumbling with the top as he struggled to breathe. Helda, enraged, charged at the woman, her staff swinging wildly. The woman parried the blow effortlessly and brought her broadsword down in a swift, deadly arc, cutting her front side nearly open. Helda fell to the ground, her eyes wide with shock as blood pooled around her. She was dead before she hit the ground.

Garrick, seeing his team decimated, roared in fury and summoned every ounce of his magic. Flames erupted around him, and he swung his mace with all his might. The woman was pushed back, her movements slowing as she struggled to fend off his powerful attacks. Garrick's advantage grew as he pressed the attack, his flaming mace a blur of fiery destruction. The woman fought valiantly, but she was beginning to falter under the relentless assault.

Just as Garrick was about to deliver the final blow, a sudden movement caught his eye. The naked woman, her eyes filled with determination, had snuck up behind him. Before he could react, she plunged the obsidian blade into his back, the serrated edge finding the gap in his armor and sinking deep into his chest.

Garrick's eyes widened in utter surprise. He looked down at the blade protruding from his chest, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The flames around his mace flickered as he fell to his knees.

The warrior woman, breathing heavily, stepped back and looked at woman of undress, her expression one of gratitude and relief. The naked one, her hands trembling, pulled the dagger from Garrick's body as he collapsed to hands and knees desperately holding onto the last vestiges of life. He fell back, sitting on his heels and staring up at the two women.

"I... I didn't expect... that," Garrick said, coughing up blood and giving a menacing crimson smile. "It's like... you were... a ghost." Staring at the naked woman before him, how could have not seen her? How could she have slipped his sight?

The red and blue-eyed woman crouched in front of him, her broadsword planted in the ground, and smirked. "No," she said softly, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Not a ghost, but a fallen angel. You and your team came here to take my Paola." She looked around, counting only three bodies instead of four. "Where is the fourth?"

"Gone," Garrick replied, blood staining his teeth and lips. "The coward fled."

"The scout," the armored woman muttered. She glanced at the naked woman and sighed. "I will track him down, but he won't make it far. Not with his injury."

The naked woman, still holding the obsidian dagger, looked at Garrick, then back to the armored woman. Her expression was of horror, of panic, and a deep sadness. "I... I had to." Her voice quivered as she stared into Garrick's eyes, her own wide with terror. Garrick saw it, the innocence, the naivety, and the fear. He understood her. He hated her.

"You're right," Garrick wheezed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You did."

The naked woman fell to her knees, the obsidian dagger dropping to the ground. "Why? Why did you do this?"

Garrick let out a pained laugh, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Because, girl, that's what men like me do." He gave a bloody smile, his eyes flashing with malice. "You've never killed before, have you?" His smile faded, his expression growing serious. "It doesn't go away, you know. The guilt, the fear, the blood on your hands. It stays with you forever."

The naked woman stared at him, her almond colored eyes, bloodshot, and her cheeks tear-streaked, made her look more beautiful than ever. Garrick hated her. His eyes should have never left her, let alone the armored bitch who was standing before him. He should have seen the obsidian dagger when she picked it up. He should have noticed the movement of the shadows. He should have been smarter, he is smarter.

A soft wind blew, and the smell of death hung in the air. Garrick stared into the naked woman's eyes, his own filled with pain and anger. He is going to die. He can't kill her, no, but he knew this moment would stick with her. He would haunt her for the rest of her days.

The naked woman whispered, her voice barely audible, "I'm sorry."

Garrick gave a final, raspy laugh. "You should be," he rasped, his voice filled with bitterness. "You're a monster."

The words hit her like a blow, and she flinched, her eyes wide with anguish. Garrick reveled in the moment, watching the naked woman struggle with the weight of her actions. The armored bitch said nothing, her expression neutral as she watched the scene unfold. It was a lie, he knew it. He was the monster. He wasn't sure when he had become one, but there was no turning back now. He had come too far. He hated her. He hated himself. But there was nothing else to say, and nothing he could do.

He gave a final, bitter laugh, and then the light faded from his eyes. He slumped forward, his lifeless body crumpling to the ground.

* * *

Paola wiped her face, her whole body trembling as she sat on her heels, staring up into the sky. They had been running for hours, and everything felt like a blur. The last clear memory she had was going to sleep in front of the fire. Ayla had placed the dagger in front of her, mentioning the ward, but Paola hadn't thought much of it at the time. Then they had been attacked, and she... she had killed someone.

The memory made her stomach churn again. She wanted to throw up, but there was nothing left inside her. She took heavy breaths, trying to steady herself, ignoring the cold air that bit at her skin. Ayla stood behind her, giving her the space she needed, her eyes scanning the area for any sign of the scout who had carried the axes. She had followed his blood trail to the river, but it had vanished there. They had to assume he was dead, but there was no way to be sure. If he managed to call for backup, they needed to keep moving.

"Paola," Ayla said softly, "you must have a skill of some kind. There's no way you could maneuver over and through the terrain like you did without it."

Paola looked at Ayla, her mind barely able to register the words. For a brief moment, it seemed true. She had been running through the forest, over rocky and sandy terrain at insane speeds, almost effortlessly. But the thought was fleeting, pushed aside by the man's final words searing into her brain: "You're a monster."

The stars twinkled above, their cold light offering no comfort. She felt that maybe the man was right. She had taken a life. She was no different from the monsters she had faced since arriving in this world.

Ayla knelt beside her, her voice gentle yet firm. "Paola, you're not a monster. If you were, then what does that make me? I killed three of them."

Paola tried to consider Ayla's words, but her hands wouldn't stop trembling. The memory of the blade sinking into the man's back played over and over in her mind. Ayla had explained that the knife had slipped perfectly between two plates of his armor, an incredibly lucky strike. But that didn't make it any easier to bear.

Ayla placed a comforting hand on Paola's shoulder. "You did what you had to do to survive. He would have killed me if you hadn't intervened. You saved my life."

Paola took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts. "But I killed him. His blood is on my hands."

Ayla nodded, her expression serious. "Yes, you did. And it won't be the last time we face situations like this. But you are not defined by that moment. We do what we must to protect ourselves and those we care about."

Paola looked at Ayla, seeing the truth in her eyes. She wanted to believe it, to take comfort in the idea that she was not alone in this struggle. But the guilt and horror of taking a life weighed heavily on her.

"I don't know if I can do this," Paola whispered, her voice breaking.

Ayla squeezed her shoulder gently. "You can. And you will. We'll get through this together."

Paola nodded slowly, taking another deep breath. She forced herself to stand, her legs shaking but holding firm. Ayla stayed close, ready to support her if needed.

"We need to keep moving," Ayla said, her tone practical. "If that scout survived, he might bring others."

Paola nodded again, the determination in Ayla's voice giving her a small spark of resolve. "Okay. Let's go."

They continued their journey, moving through the forest with a renewed sense of purpose. Paola focused on the terrain, feeling the strange ease with which she navigated it. Maybe Ayla was right; maybe she did have some kind of skill. But for now, all that mattered was surviving.

The stars above seemed to guide them, their light steady and unchanging. Paola kept her thoughts on the present, pushing away the haunting memories of the fight. Ayla's presence beside her was a constant reminder that she was not alone.

As they moved, Ayla spoke softly, telling Paola more about the world they were in, the dangers they faced, and the hope they held onto. Paola listened, letting the words fill the silence and push away the dark thoughts. Bandits and raids, goblins, those sorts of things. All things Paola would have assumed to be the stuff of fantasy. It was almost unbelievable, but Paola knew better. She had experienced the danger firsthand.

By the time they found a new place to rest, the sky was already brightening. They had moved through the night and finally had a chance to catch their breath.

Paola collapsed, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up to her. She curled up on the hard, rocky ground, not caring about the discomfort. All she could think about was how tired she was and how much she wished she could take it all back. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the world around her. Her body ached, and her mind was full of the memories of the fight, but the exhaustion was winning out. Her eyes were heavy as the sun was rising in the sky, and soon she was asleep.

Paola was lost in a dreamless slumber, unaware of the passage of time. When she awoke, she felt groggy and disoriented, her mind still filled with the horrors of the previous night. But when she opened her eyes, she saw Ayla sitting beside her, a small, reassuring smile on her face.

"Hey," Ayla said gently, handing her a small waterskin. "Here, drink some water."

Paola accepted the waterskin and took a few small sips. Her throat was dry, and the water was refreshing. She felt a little better, but the guilt and shame of what she had done still weighed heavily on her.

"How long was I asleep?" Paola asked, her voice rough.

"A few hours," Ayla replied. "You needed the rest."

Paola nodded, taking a moment to survey their surroundings. They were in a small clearing surrounded by trees. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the sun was shining down, warming the air. It was a beautiful day, but all Paola could think about was the fact that she had killed a man.

"How are you feeling?" Ayla asked, her tone cautious.

Paola shook her head, her eyes staring at a small beetle like bug crawling across the dirt. "I don't know. I feel numb."

Ayla sighed, her expression sympathetic. "I understand. It's a lot to process. But you did what you had to do to survive. You saved my life, Paola."

Paola didn't know what to say, the memories of the night still fresh and raw. She took another sip of water, trying to organize her thoughts. She knew Ayla was right; she had saved her life. But the guilt and shame were still overwhelming.

"What's our next move?" Paola asked, changing the subject. Ayla gave a weak smile.

"We'll find some shelter, then get some more rest. Once you're feeling up to it, we'll keep moving towards Valarian."

"Will the bandits follow us?" Paola asked, a flash of fear crossing her face.

Ayla shook her head, her expression grim. "No. If that scout was smart, he would have led the others far away from here." She shook her head. "If he even survived."

Paola felt a moment of relief, then immediately felt guilty. She shouldn't be relieved. She had taken a man's life, and she should feel horrible about it. But Ayla's words helped, and she knew that, for now, she was safe.

"Are you okay?" Ayla asked, her voice laced with concern. "Eh, I mean, as okay as you can be?"

"Yeah," Paola lied, forcing a smile. "I'm fine."

Ayla didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the issue. "Come on," she said, standing up and offering a hand to Paola. "Let's find somewhere safe to rest."