Walking down the stone stairs, the sun shadowed Helena’s into a form larger than it was. Stretching down the cold steps. Helena worked her way through the maze-like hallways, still gawking at the tall ceilings and dark ornate decorations.

Everything felt so stark in difference to the Goodlands; the sights, smells, feelings. There were no battering carriages running through the roads, no heavy smog or thin brick buildings. Every detail felt so ornate and archaic within Taranqar.

Finally she arrived at the small pagoda, pushing the heavy door into the deck outside. Overlooking the descending mountain, the dark forest that stared back. Despite the ever-present looming forest Helena felt herself smile at the chirping birds.

Her hands were dainty crossed over the other with transparent ivory lace draped down to her secondary knuckles. Ursula’s ivory skin blended with the lace, too much time within these weathered walls, Helena surmised. When she had held Ursula’s hand, they were frozen with the ice that ran through her veins. It would not have surprised her if they became blue with their glacial grasp.

There was only a ring on her hand, a thin silver band that lacked decoration wrapped around her middle right finger.

Ursula was unmoving as she was perched in her velvet sofa and stared down the mountain onto Vakar. Helena did not think the town could feel any smaller than when she had rode through weeks ago. And yet, it stood there, feeling more miniature than ever. The quaintest of towns she had ever seen.

From below the windowsill, carving its way through the grounds overgrown with moss, a sharp river swam. Blue waters captured by bulky rocks.

An opened book hung from Ursula’s hand, half opened and her long black dress cascaded to the floor. Enveloping the dark wood with black fabric. Her gaze was far off, through the crystal glass and towering trees. A sharp jaw and eyes, Helena could almost feel the words an author better than her would use to describe the pose. “Are they not the most loveliest of sounds you have ever heard?”

Upon Helena’s confused features and silence, yet without looking back to her, Ursula explained, “The birds.”

She continued, “They are Gijeer. This time in Taranqar is their mating season.”

Helena closed her eyes to listen to the Gijeers chirping more clearly. She twisted the silver cross on her neck. Listening to Ursula’s warm voice she continued, “They court each other by bringing objects and doing services for their desired bird. Much like here, in Taranqar.”

The description brought a vision to her mind, chirping birds on a wooden branch as they brought a worm to the other, “Courting is much different in the Goodlands. The men are much more brutish, much more…different than in your lands. They pride themselves on their strength, and less on their intelligence.”

Ursula dragged her gaze from swaying nature to Helena’s thoughtful face, “Is this why you are still alone? From my understanding, the women in the Goodlands marry quite young.”

“I have lived this life alone, most likely I will die alone. I am not particularly dejected about this fact, perhaps mournful is a better word to describe the feeling. Yet, I understand this is God’s plan.” In honesty, Helena had not found the spark they talked about when it came to love, but she knew she had been looking in the right places and yet she had not found a man.

Ursula’s eyes held cynicism, “What sort of God would set you on a plan in which makes you so sorrowful? Does your God not want you to be happy? Do you not?” There was a conviction in her voice, one that trapped Helena in the question, unable to choose how to answer.

Thoughtfully, Helena did not respond. A question that popped into her head had run her silent, what does my own happiness look like?

However, instead of pondering it, she answered her own question by pulling out her notebook stashed in the pocket of her dress.

At the sight of its hardcover, Ursula all but groaned. A sight that made Helena have to hide a smile with the back of the book as she held it over the bottom half of her face, “We have not finished these questions yet?”

“Not yet,” Helena chuckled, “But soon, I promise.”

Continuing on, Helena’s eyes swam for a new question to answer, “First question of the day, how did you come into your wealth?”

Ursula took a few moments to herself before beginning, “My parents, had always taught me to desire one thing, power, because along with power came the stability and safety they had not grown up with. And so, after their deaths I did what they asked. I created my wealth through investments and owning properties all over the world.”

But you stay here, Helena noted, intrigued by Ursula’s use of her wealth. After scribbling down “Second question: What would you like to- …let me rephrase, do you have any goals for the future?”

“Not any of serious consequence, my main goal now is to live out my life, comfortably and on the grounds of my abode.”

“I will ask a question now.” Ursula interrupted before Helena could continue.

“Oh? V-Very well.” Fixing her stance, Helena pulled her ivory hair behind her ears.

“Why do you desire to become a journalist?” She pressed, watching Helena skeptically.

“It is very simple really, I have a desire for knowledge.” Ursula seemed skeptical, with pinched features and downturned eyebrows. “There is always a new idea, person, belief or object to learn about. The world we live in teems with sheer knowledge that I believe only becoming a journalist will give me access to. Though, female journalists are not common in the Goodlands, and despite how I am aware my likelihood of ever becoming a journalist is slim, I cannot stop myself.”

Twisting the cold metal of her cross back and forth, Helena looked up at Ursula. A softened expression lifting the darkness of from her eyes.