Huff... Huff...

Astraea's breaths grew labored as she pushed herself through the pain, her body screaming for her to halt. But she wouldn’t. The voices of the townspeople trailed closely behind, and she couldn't afford to be captured now.

"Ugh!" She gasped, her steps slowing to a crawl, her body trembling. She heaved one more time before falling to the ground. After a brief pause, she continued, gritting her teeth and dragging herself through the dry dirt and grass.

I won’t get caught here, she silently vowed, her mind consumed by a single purpose. As she pressed on, the voices faded into the background, the Goddess's judgment a distant concern. Her thoughts slowly grew hazy, lost in the throes of pain, unable to focus.

Unbeknownst to her, her ivory hair gradually turned ashen gray. From there, color seeped from the tips and spread like a veil dipped in black ink. The raven hue crept up her neck, entwining her strands with darkness.

The Curse, the Goddess's Judgment, was beginning to take hold.

But still, Astraea crawled. Despite the torment, she began to feel the whispers of a strong wind, urging her in the direction the voice had beckoned. The gusts swirled with a newfound intensity as if guiding her to safety, promising relief from the torment.

She persisted, the scars on her back starting to itch fiercely. Lost in the agony of the Goddess’s Curse, she disregarded the sensation, oblivious to the fact that the light pink scars were tingling, their hue shifting to a dark purple and then to an ominous black. Small black dots emerged from the scars, tracing intricate patterns along her veins, gradually overtaking her back and enveloping it in an unhealthy shroud of black and purple. Her once pale skin vanished beneath the mass.

“Ha...ha.” Astraea's breaths grew heavier. Thoughts tumbled haphazardly through her mind, struggling to form coherent patterns through the pain.

Almost there...she reassured herself. She crawled onward, her body covered in a sheen of sweat and dust, each movement a testament to getting away from her captors.

With a sudden gust, Astraea emerged from the tall grass, standing at the edge of a steep cliff. The wind howled with a renewed vigor, threatening to snatch her away and plunge her into the Abyss below.

Several rocks tumbled down the steep cliffs as Astraea’s feet shuffled forward. Their gray and black silhouettes were seen briefly before they disappeared–the darkness swallowing them whole.

The pain reached its height, tearing at Astraea’s very being. The dark and purple mass crept upward, enveloping her arms and descending down her legs like a morbid disease, only meant for those who had been dead for a long, long time.

"There!" A man's voice pierced the air, followed by the sound of determined footsteps. Several men had doggedly pursued Astraea through the plains, and now they were closing in. Faces came into focus, unfamiliar yet determined. She knew, without a doubt, that they would show her no mercy.

Amidst the turmoil, a sense of clarity emerged, a growing realization. For the longest time, Astraea had resisted, desperately clinging to life even in the face of suffering. After all, no matter how hard life was, she wanted to continue living. Even if her relatives hated her, even if her friend abandoned her, she wanted to continue existing, as painful as it was.

But as the seconds ticked away, Astraea's acceptance grew, a quiet surrender to the fate presented in front of her.

There were just two choices ahead. She could either live long enough to become a monster, or die as a human.

It didn’t take long for Astraea to make her decision. Even in death, she would remain true to herself.

"If I’m going to have my future taken from me," Astraea murmured, her eyes locking with one of the approaching men, "It will be at my own volition, and not by the Goddess’s whims."

Those were her final words as she surrendered to the abyss, her body falling gracefully into the void behind her, her arms open to accept its embrace.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

. . .

"She's gone," one of the farmers stated matter-of-factly. He glanced at his companions, who nodded in agreement.

They had been tasked with finding Astraea, albeit reluctantly. While whispers of caution regarding her captivating nature had circulated in the town, she had generally been regarded as a good girl. If only she hadn’t hurt the Baron. Nevertheless, she committed a sin, and if the Goddess didn't punish her, the imperial decree surely would.

But ultimately, Astraea had chosen her own fate. The men exchanged silent nods and began their long journey back to the town. The image of Astraea's serene smile as she fell remained etched in their minds.

Astraea would be declared dead, her existence swiftly erased from the townspeople's memories. In a life dictated by the struggle for survival, the fates of others held little consequence.

. . .

Thousands of feet below the cliff, in a realm devoid of light, so frigid that life could not endure, a young girl lay motionless at its depths. Her long ebony locks cascading over her face, concealing her features.

Within this expanse, the remnants of skeletal creatures and ill-fated individuals littered the terrain. Narrow walls of jagged rocks enclosed the space, towering ominously. At the helm of this abyss, a figure sat nonchalantly upon an elevated surface, humming softly, as if biding their time.

"Ugh..." a voice murmured, slicing through the silence. Astraea wearily opened her eyes, unaware that their effort was in vain. In this abyssal chasm, even with her eyes wide open, she could perceive nothing. The chasm was so deep, not even light could make its way down.

"I'm... alive..." she whispered, her words filled with a newfound certainty. Astraea had somehow survived the fall, emerging not only relatively unscathed but still clinging to life.

But how? she pondered, perplexed by her unexpected survival. If this wasn't the end of her life, then what about the Goddess's Judgment that should have taken place?

"You have me to thank," a voice echoed throughout the chamber, catching Astraea's attention. She strained her eyes, attempting to discern the source of the enigmatic voice.

Slowly, she rose to her feet, her vision adjusting to the encompassing darkness. Yet, there was nothing there to be seen.

"Ah, right," the voice spoke again. "You're a human, so naturally, you can't see me."

A sharp crack reverberated, illuminating the surroundings with the sudden emergence of numerous purple orbs, casting a soft lavender glow upon the chamber.

Now, Astraea could perceive the origin of the voice. A young boy, no older than eleven, sat cross-legged upon a slab of rock, his vibrant amethyst eyes sparkling with excitement. Clad in a white button-up shirt and black suspenders, his stark white hair starkly contrasted with his black leather shoes.

Is that a boy? What’s he doing in such a place? Astraea wondered, her gaze fixed on the peculiar figure before her.

"I suppose you must be quite surprised by all of this," the boy remarked playfully, barely allowing Astraea the chance to respond.

"Although, you shouldn't be too taken aback. We've had a few encounters, you know!" he continued, rising from his seat with a buoyant "hup" and sauntering closer to Astraea.

"At first, it was just an accident. I was rather bored and decided to launch my spirit through your species’ dreams; they’re quite entertaining you see.”

His sentences progressed even faster; the words threatening to spill over each other. His excitement was evident.

“I must have frightened you the first time. I was all raspy and mysterious, so doom and gloom. But what can I say, I find entertainment in scaring mortals.”

He squinted and pressed his fingers to his temples, as if trying to remember something.

"But then you captured my interest. Your life, it was undeniably awful. No offense, of course. Even I felt a twinge of sympathy for you. It surprised me that the oh-so-holy Goddess would permit her humans to live this way."

As the boy rambled on, closing the distance between them, Astraea instinctively took a step back. Though he appeared no more than a scrawny youngster, there was an aura about him—an air of authority, of solitude, and the fact that she stood here, alive against all odds, only deepened her sense of unease.

"Who... who are you?" Astraea finally managed to stammer, her voice laced with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

"Ah, right," the boy replied, rolling his eyes in a display of mild exasperation. "I got so caught up in the excitement that I nearly forgot to introduce myself properly."

"The name's Erasmus," he proclaimed, now towering over Astraea with an air of enigmatic confidence.

"Or, I suppose, as you humans know it, I am the Daemon of Darkness."