RISE: B1 — 2. Fire Empress and the Redlight

RISE Rewrite Index

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Ayla gasped, her chest heaving as her fingers curled into the wet sheets. Blood dribbled from her lips, pooling beneath her chin as she struggled to breathe through the sharp pain in her chest. Her ears rang with the lingering remnants of her nightmare, and white spots flickered across her vision, dancing between the shadows of the room.

The dull roar of the storm outside slowly bled back into focus, a rhythmic reminder of the relentless world they lived in. Ayla tried to force stifle the tears and coughs as Amaris leaped from the top bunk, her feet hitting the cold stone floor with a muted thud.

“Ayla!” she hissed, worry lacing her voice as she rushed to press a small jewel on the wall. The soft glow of diamond lights bloomed around them, illuminating the cramped orphanage room in a muted, white hue. “Are you okay?”

Ayla’s smile was faint, her hand shakily wiping at the blood on her lips. “Just a nightmare,” she croaked, voice rough from the strain. “The dragon attack…from six cycles ago. I’m fine, Amaris.”

The other two women in the room—Kylean and Uelia—were already stirring, their concerned faces peeking out from the opposite bunk. Kylean quickly slid out of bed, her dark hair still tousled from sleep, while Uelia sat up, wide-eyed and alert.

“Do you need anything?” Kylean asked gently, rubbing her arm as if still shaking off sleep.

Ayla shook her head, her gaze drifting to her scarred arm, the faint traces of black metalwork etched into her pale skin from her time spent in the forges, sword practice, and her other inventive endeavors. She forced a weak grin to set their hearts at ease.

“Just a bad dream, I promise. Go back to sleep.”

“No,” Amaris cut in, her tone firm and unyielding upon fixating on the blood. “You’re not staying in that bed tonight. Move to mine while I clean yours up, Ayla.”

She glared up at her cousin, currently sporting green-hair, hands on her hips like a mother hen ready to drag her to safety. Both of them had a lot of girls that saw them as a mother figure, but Amaris always made sure to remind her that she was a bit older and responsible for her.

Ayla groaned, shifting to sit up. “I’m fine, really. I can handle—”

“She’s right,” Uelia chimed in with a soft, supportive smile. “You look exhausted. Let us handle cleaning up the sheets. You should rest.”

Before Ayla could protest further, Amaris had already hooked an arm around her waist, tugging her up toward the black metal-framed bed. “C’mon, up you go! You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I can keep them open just fine,” Ayla muttered, trying to stand on her own, but her legs wobbled beneath her, and the world around her tilted dangerously as another cough sent blood splattering across the stone floor. Her muscles screamed in protest, and her mind felt sluggish, the edges of her vision darkening as she stumbled.

“Ayla!”

“Is she getting worse? I thought the Elder said this wasn’t deadly, but…”

“Yeah, it doesn’t look good.”

Ayla tried to wave their concern away. “I’m…fine. Ugh…”

Her weak feet seemed to fall straight through the mountain. Falling…falling into cold emptiness. Snowflakes, delicate and silent, drifted around her, swirling in a memory she hadn’t visited in a long while: a memory from nearly twelve cycles ago.

The soft crunch of snow underfoot, the endless white expanse stretching before her as Kael flew her over the boreal forest on Nulina’s back, just after he’d bonded to the legendary roc.

She could feel the biting chill of the wind, the serene quiet of the world beneath them, and the distant warmth of her brother’s presence. He had shown her the art of black metal forging that day, during her eighth cycle, patiently guiding her hands, his voice a constant reassurance amidst the cold of the northeastern boreal forest zone, inhabited by the elves.

The dream dissolved into darkness, the snow vanishing as a soft knock echoed in the distance, pulling her back to reality. Ayla’s eyes fluttered open, staring up at the dark ceiling of the orphanage. Her breaths came slow and deep, the sharp edge of exhaustion weighing heavily on her.

A whisper broke the silence. “Ayla… Ayla, are you awake?”

It was Julia, her voice timid and cautious, barely audible over the storm’s howling winds outside. Ayla blinked, feeling the fatigue in her bones but not the type to go back to sleep easily once awake.

She cleared her throat, somehow feeling much better and not nearly as raw as it had been. “Yeah… Come in. I’m just getting up… Where’s Amaris?”

Ayla shifted to the side, squinting in her half-conscious state. The door creaked open just enough for a small figure to slip in: a ten-cycle-old with soft pink hair, the standard non-dyed color of their people, that shimmered faintly in the dim noon-light. Julia, one of the younger girls at the orphanage, stood by the entrance, her fingers nervously clutching the edges of a book pressed against her chest.

She blinked, trying to shake off the exhaustion clinging to her bones as the small voice whispered so quietly, it was almost lost to the tempest raging beyond the walls, “Ayla? It’s, umm… It’s noon-light… Most everyone’s out.”

Ayla groaned inwardly, forcing her sore body to move. She stretched, feeling the tension in her muscles and wincing as the stiffness reminded her of her restless night. The sun-diamond is already at its peak? Shit… I’m late. Nulina’s probably going to shock me for making her worry.

The thought of the Tempest Queen waiting for her pushed Ayla to sit up, though the heavy exhaustion still pulled at her limbs. Mera, the young teen she’d been training to take over her position as Nulina’s caretaker, must have been hovering around the crippled roc’s sanctuary, likely wondering why she hadn't shown up. No… On second thought, Amaris would have likely let everyone know she wasn’t feeling well.

Yet, despite that, the guilt gnawed at her as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. What’s wrong with me lately… I’ve never slept in a day in my life, and suddenly I’m having these blood-coughing fits the last few months? Maybe I should talk to the old man about it one more time… No, right now, Mera’s probably pacing back and forth, scared to go into the sanctuary alone. Gotta get up!

“Can you press the crystal activation, Jules?” Ayla asked, rubbing her temples as spots dotted her vision.

Julia hesitated a moment before nodding in the mostly dark space, only a shine of light passing into the room from the cracked door. She moved to tap the small crystal embedded in the wall. The room immediately brightened, the soft diamond light illuminating the modest space.

The non-occupied bunks came into focus; only two of the three in their shared room were filled. Population was apparently in a decline. Ayla blinked, adjusting to the glow, and her gaze fell on the wad of bloodstained linen, soaking in a pail of opaque liquid beside her bed. It made her brow furrow, not wanting to be a burden on her cousin.

Whatever this is, it needs to stop… Redlight is hard enough at times. I don’t need added symptoms.

Her thoughts were still sluggish, but something about the way Julia fidgeted caught her attention. The girl stood there, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze flicking up to Ayla and then darting away.

She shouldn’t be here—not during noon-light—and not in her nightgown.

The orphan children were always assigned to one of the many public duties by this time. However, it was the book held tightly against her front that made it click, and a small, understanding smile lifted Ayla’s lips.

“C’mon,” she hopped down and patted her uncovered raven lord feather mattress, motioning for Julia to sit. “What’s wrong?”

The ten-cycle-old hesitated, clutching her book tighter against her midsection as she slowly made her way over. She sat gingerly, as if afraid of disturbing something, and Ayla saw the faint blush creeping up the girl’s pale cheeks. A few moments passed in silence, save for the distant roar of the storm.

“I, um…” Julia started, her voice barely a whisper. “I think I had my…my first Redlight.”

Having expected that was the reason for her staying in her bed, Ayla recalled all the older orphan women she’d had who had helped her growing up. Naturally, being on her last cycle of staying at the orphanage—the twentieth—she had quite a few younger girls who looked up to her as a mom or big sister.

“Mhm? That’s normal. All of us go through it…but did you forget to wear the pad? It’s okay if you did.”

Julia’s fingers tightened around the book, and her gaze drifted to the pail before slowly moving the book to show the stain on her nightgown. “I…didn’t want the other girls to see. It itches at night, and…and I know I should have, but I didn’t think it would happen.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Jules,” she whispered, pulling her against her body and rubbing her shoulder as she held back tears. “It’s going to happen a lot now, so you need to get used to it. I didn’t like the feel of the cotton either at first.”

Julia’s hands pressed against her thighs, eyes returning to the stain she’d been hiding. “It’s not just that. The boys…they’re teasing me about…about my chest. And some of the girls too… They said I should work with black metal because I got this scar on my neck…”

She lifted her chin slightly, revealing a small mark, barely visible. Ayla’s heart clenched at the sight. Scars were a delicate subject in the stormlands, particularly for girls. It was an old belief, mostly upheld by the stormland adults to dissuade women from attempting to join the academy. There was some truth to it, but Kael had told her it was overblown, mostly upheld in women’s circles over men’s.

However, it was true generally speaking, scars made a woman less desirable for marriage in the highlands. Then again, it also had to do with where they were and what type they were. It was a fact, as much as some women tried to deny it.

Ayla’s thoughts flickered briefly to her own scars—small, light ones on her hands and forearms from her time in the black metal forges. She was well-respected for her work, but most saw her as a brute, a Skyborn-in-the-making like her brother, not someone who’d ever fit the mold of a noble’s dream wife.

Julia’s voice wavered. “I don’t want them to keep teasing me. I…don’t know what to do.”

Ayla retained her smile, remembering Jessica’s advice when helping her navigate through her own early cycles at the orphanage. “Don’t worry about those girls, Jules. They’re just scared of what’s different and about themselves. You’re not clumsy or scarred in a bad way. You’re stronger because of it. Like me,” she chimed, holding out her arm for the girl to lightly trace the marks. “Between you and me,” she winked, “some nobles like a girl with grit.”

Julia’s eyes glistened as she glanced up at Ayla, searching her face for something more. Ayla hummed and an idea softened her expression. She shifted, reaching for the storage chest by her bed. Her gaze lingered on the pair of black metal shortswords she practiced with every night, a gift from her brother for her twelfth cycle.

Brushing it out of her mind, she shifted the items around, noticing Julia lock onto the fitted stormclad beast leather outfit on the surface. The stocky and muscular eight-foot-tall animals were bred and slaughtered by their people for their meat and special storm-resistant properties.

It was their primary source of trade, along with black metal and engineering services, to get yellow silk and other unique highlands items from the nobility. However, the black leather, along with many other comfort items, were only available to those in higher trades as an incentive, such as blacksmithing.

She rummaged through the items, such as the fashionable stormclad beast belts inside and the customary yellow silk cap all citizens received, until her hand closed around a familiar piece of fabric. Pulling out a small yellow silk bra, one meant for support and practicality for a young girl, she held it up with a grin.

“Here,” she said, offering it to Julia. “It’s my last one from when I was your age, but it’s a good start. Only a few trades get blacksmith bras, which are the absolute best: breathable, semi-customizable, flexible, yet firm and supportive, and…waterproof!” she grinned, knowing that was the biggest selling point.

Julia stared at the garment in awe, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted it. “A yellow silk bra? Really? B-But can I have it? The linen one feels scratchy…and it shrunk and doesn’t fit well, but then it fits better after a bit… I don’t know. But really?!”

Knowing all the reasons behind those drawbacks but leaving them unanswered to save time, she nodded. “I can give it to whoever I want. You know, Katie has one of my other ones, and Patty another! I get a new one every cycle, so I have plenty. It’ll fit you just fine for now, and as you grow, you can adjust it. You’ll need one of the other girls to help when you outgrow it.”

Julia let out a small, nervous giggle as she reverently held the light-weight, soft, and extremely durable silk, but her smile slowly returned. “Katie can help me? Wow, it’s so smooth. But…what if they make fun of me for having it?”

Ayla nodded, giving her a playful nudge before handing her the matching undergarment. “Yep. This will help with your Redlight, too. And if any of those girls give you trouble, just tell them I gave it to you and we’re friends. I’m a scary girl, right? I’ve got the strongest lightning tongue in the orphanage!”

The ten-cycle-old sniffled, tears starting to fall down her cheek as she lurched over to hug her around the waist. “Thanks, Ayla! I…I don’t want you to go. Everyone’s worried a-about you leaving us and never coming back!”

Ayla gently held the sobbing child, soothing her with her touch. “I’m tough, Jules. I know there’s a lot of fear when the older girls go up to the Tempalis and it is dangerous…but I’ll come back. I wouldn’t want Nulina to cause a storm, would I?”

The girl held on tighter. “You promise? Why can’t you bond to Nulina? She’d protect you, right? She’s like…the strongest!”

Smile softening, her heart went out to the younger girls, knowing exactly how it felt to watch cycle after cycle as the older women you looked up to went to the infamous academy of Tempest Peak and never came back. Her feelings also went out to her big brother’s roc.

Nulina was one of the strongest… Even one of the ten Tempest Queens can’t come out unscathed against a dragon. 

“I promise, Jules, in one cycle, you’ll see me again, and I’ll see how much progress you made.”

“Progress?” Julia mumbled, pulling back to show her flushed cheeks, teary eyes, and runny nose. “In what?”

“In whatever you want to do,” Ayla whispered, kissing her on the top of her head before pulling her in for another strong hug. “Have faith in me. I keep my promises, don’t I?”

“Mhm…”

She tucked her bottom lip under, her brother’s promise sinking into her chest like a lodestone. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

The girl’s body firmed with her eyes, face showing faith as she grip the undergarments tightly against her chest as if they were precious treasures. “Okay. Promise. I’ll… I’ll be stronger, too! Thank you, Ayla.”

“Mhm!” Ayla chuckled and ruffled Julia’s pink hair. “You’ll be fine. And I’ll be fine, too. Just remember—you’re stronger than you think. Now, let’s grab your sheet so you can add it with mine to stop the stains and adjust your undergarments to fit.”

“Okay! Wait, but…what about Nulina?”

“The bird can wait for her breakfast,” Ayla snickered, causing the child to gape at her disrespectful tone to the legendary roc. “She was a little bird turd the other day and zapped my butt, so I need to get back at her!”

“Oh… Wow. Okay. Thank you.”

Embarrassing atmosphere lifting for the excited ten-cycle-old, Ayla spent the next ten minutes helping Julia through her first Redlight. It touched her heart seeing the girl liven up and bounce with excitement at her new treasures: things she totally took for granted.

Ayla quickly guided Julia through the steps of caring for herself after her first Redlight, showing her how to wash and prepare the linen pads, and offering her advice on handling the boys’ teasing. Though the moment was brief, it left the child with a small smile on her face, her anxiety soothed by the gentle encouragement and attention.

Sending Julia off to gather her items to meet her in the female bathing area of the orphanage, Ayla allowed herself a moment of respite now that she was alone. The space was quiet, a rarity in a place where a hundred girls lived; it should have been a hundred and fifty, but the population was in a gradual decline due to the mortality rate being six deaths to every five births per cycle.

Her bare feet brushed the cold stone floor, and the constant trickle of water from the storm-fed streams created a soothing backdrop. The water that flowed into the bathing chambers was fresh, drawn directly from the storm above, and poured into the narrow channels that wound through the room before being collected in the large basin. It then went down the ravines into the lowlands lakes.

Her clothes hung nearby, made from the waterproof leather and silk that the stormlands people relied on. The garments were crafted with intricate patterns of interwoven material, specifically designed to endure the tempest’s wrath while remaining lightweight and flexible.

It was no small feat to create such protective clothing, which went from a desired item to a necessity after the dragon attack had destroyed part of the cavern they called their home. Their ancestors had dealt with fierce winds and rain, but the present generation faced the unrelenting barrage of nature unlike anything in the past, and the Soul’s Tempest was only growing stronger.

Ayla sighed, brushing her white hair away from her face as she approached the mirror. The glass was foggy from the cool air meeting the hot steam, which rose out of the volcanic vents that provided heat from deep below, where the furnace blacksmiths and miners worked. Warm steam rose from the bathing area, a divider allowing for the cool water to be redirected inside of it. 

She wiped the fog clear with the back of her hand. Her reflection stared back—her pale skin contrasting sharply with her vivid, stormy-turquoise eyes, almost unnatural white hair that hung down to her shoulder blades. The length wasn’t common for men or women in the stormlands, other than the girls hoping to catch the eye of highland nobles. The delicate silver strands gleamed in the dim light, a gift from her father’s side, according to her brother. Although it marked her as different from the majority of stormlanders.

What was that dream? Her fingers moved to comb through the damp locks as Julia entered the area with a cute skip and hum. I only went to the northeastern boreal forest once…and I’m shocked we did with the elven and white tiger threat in that region. Then again, Kael never was one to shy away from dangerous areas while exploring and having fun… I suppose that resonated well with Nulina.

A small smile tugged at Ayla’s lips as she caught Julia positioning beside her, mimicking her hand motions through her hair and studying herself. The young girl’s eyes constantly flicked toward her reflection, clearly admiring her and wanting to be just like her.

“Why don’t you cut it short?” Julia suddenly asked, her tone casual but curious. “Like the other women who aren’t planning on marrying highborns. You’re always fighting, and training with those sharp black sticks; it must be hard to, umm, m-manog?”

“Manage,” Ayla chuckled, warmth filling her chest at Julia’s bluntness.

Kids always did know how best to ask questions: straight to the point. Amaris and her were some of the few girls who kept a longer style, which allowed others to easily identify them. Of course, they also had special privileges, taking care of not only a roc, but a legendary figure, even amongst the Celestial Beasts.

She gave her hair a playful toss, watching as it shimmered in the light. “My brother, Kael, said my hair was beautiful,” she explained, her voice softening at the memory. “And it’s really not that hard to bind it up and protect it under the yellow silk cap we wear.”

Julia frowned at her own reflection, tugging at her pink hair that barely reached below her ears; even that was long for stormland women. “I guess,” Jules mumbled, “but it’s not as cool as yours.”

Ayla turned to face her, placing a hand on the girl’s head and offering a gentle smile while styling it, making the girl grin again. “Your hair is pretty too, Jules. Just because it’s not white or long doesn’t make it any less special.”

The girl shrugged, still eyeing her white hair in the mirror with a hint of envy, and not just for her hair but the fitted, stormclad beast leather lace-up outfit, belts, and hood. “Maybe. But it doesn’t shine like yours. It’s just really cool… Maybe I should train to be a blacksmith. You get all the cool stuff.”

She could only smile while returning to the mirror, giving the big-eyed girl a full show as she braided her hair with practiced ease before tucking it under the cap. In a world where survival was paramount, the little moments of vanity felt both unnecessary and comforting. Yet, despite the ease with which she handled her hair, a lingering sense of unease gnawed at her thoughts—the same feeling that had haunted her since the dragon attack.

Why was only Kael nearby when the attack happened? I get that the kingdom of Celestoria was under attack by the Celestial Sea Dragons, but there should have been a ton of non-active combat roc flying in the tempest. And what was that voice that helped me break the dragon’s fear aura…

Ayla’s fingers combed absently through her hair, the soft trickling of water from the nearby channels almost drowned out by the howling storm outside. The tempest was always present, leaking through the gaps in the buildings.

“Why does Redlight only happen to us girls?” Julia blurted, her voice carrying the innocence and confusion of her age that made Ayla almost snort with laughter.

What a question!

Julia scrunched her nose, glancing up at Ayla, her big eyes wide with curiosity; every girl went through the talk. “The older women don’t have it anymore, but…the younger girls do. So why do only we have to deal with it?”

Ayla paused her daily routine, considering how best to answer. She could delve into the scientific books she’d read from the highlands—hundreds read every cycle since she was eight cycles old—but that would only leave the ten-cycle-old girl even more bewildered. She needed something simpler, something Julia could grasp.

A soft smile tugged at her lips. “Have you ever heard the story of the Fire Empress and the Red Moon?”

Julia’s eyes grew impossibly large, shaking her head as she moved closer to her, hanging onto every word. “No! Is it about fire? I’ve never seen fire before! Someone said it burns like, like electricity, but, like…everywhere. It doesn’t stop, just keeps burning. Scary…”

Ayla chuckled softly; they didn’t get a lot of wood in the stormlands which meant most things were made out of black metal. Julia’s enthusiasm was infectious, though.

“Yeah, fire’s like that—it spreads fast and devours everything in its path. But this story? It’s about more than just fire.”

“A evil dragon empress?” Jules gasped. “You know, Tiara says the moon’s fake!  She says it doesn’t make sense because a ball can’t stay in the sky without string holding it or bouncing.”

Snickering, Ayla shook her head as the girl crossed her arms, her expression saying it was impossible to refute her evidence. “Don’t jump the bridge yet. And Tiara says the moon's fake, huh? Well, what if I told you it does bounce,” Ayla winked, playing along. “Up and down, every night. So, I guess you know more than Tiara now, huh?”

Julia’s lips parted, her eyes bright with sudden realization. “It does that? Wow. I want to see that! So…Tiara’s wrong?”

“Not wrong, exactly—just missing a few details.” Ayla soothed, knowing the girl really idolized the two-cycle-older girl who roomed with her. She leaned back against the smooth stone, motioning Julia to sit beside her by the gently flowing water of the bathing area. “Now, wanna know where Redlight comes from?”

Julia bobbed her head eagerly, the tension from earlier forgotten as her focus shifted entirely to the story she was about to tell.

Ayla took a deep breath, settling herself as she began the tale, her voice soft and rhythmic, like the steady flow of water beside them.

“Long ago, before the storms that rage outside ever touched this mountain, there was a great empire ruled by a great queen. She was powerful, beautiful, and feared across the land. But her heart was…cold.”

Julia’s eyes widened, captivated. “Like the ice you brought up and showed up from the blacksmith zone cold?”

“Not exactly.” Ayla smiled, tapping her on the nose. “And we keep that a secret, right?”

“Right!”

“Hmm. How should I put this… Her heart was cold because she never allowed herself to feel.” Ayla continued. “She ruled with logic, never letting emotion sway her decisions. She thought that if she never loved or cared too deeply, she would never be hurt, like her mother.”

She glanced at the girl beside her, gauging her reaction before moving on. “But the Red Moon had other plans.”

“The Red Moon?” Julia whispered, eyes wide.

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” Ayla whispered, scooting closer to try a few different styles on Julia’s locks as she spoke, her voice weaving through the soft sounds of running water nearby. “The Elders tell us that this princess was the most beautiful woman in the world. An icy princess from a kingdom of fire…who was ‘chosen’ to marry the God of the Red Moon.”

Julia’s brows knitted, her gaze dropping to her lap. “Did she love him? A lot of women say love doesn’t matter if you get to be a noble lady.”

Ayla shook her head, her lips forming a sad smile. “I don’t fully agree with that. Sure, being a noble lady is grand and amazing…but so is love. But, no, the god was jealous and wanted her. He was cruel. Possessive. He didn’t want any man to have her, even though her heart wasn’t his to claim. So, he stole her away when she refused his demand, and she was powerless, despite all her strength. He locked her in his Moon Tower.”

Julia’s eyes widened, her breath catching. “But…but someone saved her, right?”

Ayla chuckled softly, but her mouth tightened at this part of the story. “A Dragon Raider—a man who had fallen in love with her—braved the moon’s wrath and freed her. But that wasn’t enough. The god would have just taken her again, had she not stolen something precious from him…something she knew he prized even more than her.”

“What?” Julia asked, only just above a whisper. “Cake from the highlands?”

“No,” she snickered, “not cake… The Primordial Phoenix egg.”

Julia gasped, eyes wide in awe. “The Phoenix?! I’ve heard the Elders talk about the Phoenix!” She slapped her hands over her mouth dramatically. “The Fire Empress! She’s a Phoenix!”

“Not…exactly, but you’re close!” Ayla’s fingers slowed as she finished playing with the girl’s hair and helped her put on her cap; her work clothes were nearby waiting to be donned since she wanted to admire the gifts Ayla had given her a bit longer. “The princess bonded with the Primordial Phoenix, its power amplifying her own. Together, they fled with the Dragon Raider. But the God of the Red Moon wasn’t done with her. He cursed her…cursed all women with…”

Julia’s voice dropped to a whisper while completing the sentence, her heart in her throat. “The Redlight…”

Ayla nodded gravely. “Yes. The curse for stealing what was his. But the princess, now the Fire Empress, didn’t give up. She fought back, standing with the Dragon Raider at her side. Together, they sealed the god away, trapping him in the moon.”

“That’s how she became the Fire Empress,” Julia breathed, her gaze distant as if she could see the ancient battle unfold in her mind. “Oh, the Dragon Raider melted her icy heart! I get it! I get it! So, there were good dragons…”

“Her icy heart did melt,” Ayla said, her voice softer now. “Her strength, her courage…it shaped everything.”

Julia glanced up at her with a mixture of wonder and fear. “But…is the Red Moon God still up there…bouncing up and down every night? Is that why the moon bounces? He’s trying to get out? Could someone like…like your brother…defeat him? Fix the Redlight for all little girls?!”

Ayla finished checking her cap and did a final check on her yellow silk bra adjustable holds in the back, plucking at the thread on the clamp area with a tender hand.

“No one knows for sure. But maybe…” She stood, her expression unreadable for a moment before her usual smile returned. “For now, I have to see the Elder—and Nulina. She’s probably going to zap my butt again.”

Julia giggled, her curiosity replaced with a mischievous glimmer as she examined herself in the mirror, running her fingers over the fabric of her new garments with a proud smile.

“I love these, Ayla! I’ll treasure them forever. And next cycle, you…you promised to come back and fly me around on your roc, right?”

Ayla rose and stretched, adjusting her outfit in the mirror before pulling her hood over her head and pulling up her mask. “Of course I will. Now, finish getting dressed and head to the mushroom fields.”

Julia groaned dramatically. “Ugh, I hate the smell! I always have to take a bath after, but fineee.”

With a playful shake of her head, Ayla moved toward the door, glancing back one last time with a smile before making her way to the foundation’s main administration building.

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