Paloria

There are places so dark, you can't trust your own eyes when they glimpse the light.

She lay curled in a ball, her world in fragments. The weight of it all pressed in. She wondered when it would lift.

Then – a breath. A thread of hope carried in the air, the restorative scent of lavender and sandalwood – so fragile she feared acknowledging it might make it vanish.

She moved. Some days, all she could do was crawl. Other days, a step. Always forward.

Time passed like waves. Each small victory – a breath, a step, a day survived – carried notes of sandalwood and lavender, anchoring her to now.

The fragrance became a tether, a compass. A gift she gave herself – proof that she was still here. The light worth moving towards.

Until one day, she realized the warmth on her face wasn't a hallucination. She had been rising all along.

She is a warrior. She is strong enough.

She is Paloria.