Astraea's gaze remained fixated on the Daemon's explanations etched upon the wall, lost in contemplation. Amongst the Commandments, her eyes lingered on the first:

You will not kill.

A pivotal choice now confronted her. In a few months' time, the entrance exam for the Royal Academy would begin, granting aspiring Apostles an opportunity to begin their journey at the Academy. However, compared to her peers competing for entry, Astraea was very far behind.

Life as an Apostle doesn't come easy, she thought, her palms tightening into fists. The wound inflicted by the Daemon's slash tingled faintly, serving as a reminder of the weight of her contract.

In her thoughts, the act seemed achievable. She'd grown up there, and her aunt and uncle lived in an isolated part of town. Their ongoing bitter demeanor affected more than just Astraea, keeping most townspeople at bay as a result. If they disappeared, who would really notice?

Yet putting those thoughts into action was a completely different story.

Restless nights followed, filled with deep contemplation as unmade decisions echoed through Astraea's mind. She stood at a crossroads, her thoughts swirling in uncertainty. Even though she made a contract with the Daemon, she was still an innocent soul, shaped by her unfortunate circumstances. She was Cursed but still untainted.

Yet, the path to power would demand sacrifices, forever staining her hands with Sin. There would be no turning back from this choice.

. . .

After a conflicted couple of days, Astraea finally made up her mind. She approached Erasmus, who had been patiently waiting.

"I’m ready," Astraea declared, her voice steady. "Let’s depart from this place."

Erasmus smiled, and with a puff of smoke, he transformed back into his child form.

“This makes things easier,” Erasmus explained. “I can’t tell you how many times I had to explain my true appearance to humans.”

"How will we leave the Abyss?" Astraea inquired, aware of her current lack of strength to scale the treacherous walls.

"Hold on tight," Erasmus instructed, motioning for her to draw nearer.

WHOOSH!

Astraea clung tightly to Erasmus's shoulder as they shot upward, the rock walls of the Abyss blurring into a swift ascent. The wind roared behind them, obscuring her vision. Within seconds, they emerged at the top of the cliff, hovering above the spot where she had leaped only days before.

"Down we go," Erasmus said with a “hup!”, gracefully descending from the air to solid ground. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of earth, foliage, and the proximity of civilization.

"It's been quite a while since I last set foot here," he reflected. Astraea noted his anticipation, tinged with a hint of melancholy. His gaze remained fixed on the tall grass swaying in the cool breeze, the sparse trees, and the narrow dirt paths that would eventually loop back to town. It felt as if he was recalling memories from a long time ago, ones that humans wouldn't remember.

"Now, Astraea," the Daemon inquired, his amethyst eyes fixed upon her. "Where shall we go next?" He seemed keenly aware of what Astraea’s next steps would be, but wanted to keep himself entertained, watching her actions with excitement.

“We’ll go to my aunt and uncle’s house,” Astraea said decidedly.

“But not now,” she concluded, after contemplating the situation a bit.

“We’ll get there when the moon has risen high. I don’t want there to be wandering eyes.”

. . .

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Astraea and Erasmus emerged from the bushes, concealed in the darkness. Just a few yards away stood a worn farmhouse, bathed in the soft glow of the full moon. The windows were dark, signaling that everyone inside was fast asleep.

"Are you ready?" Erasmus asked, his eyes fixed on Astraea.

She bit her lip. Now that the situation was actually happening, she felt hesitation. There was still time to turn back, time to stay the innocent maiden she was.

But as she stood there, a tumultuous storm of memories surged within her. The scars of whips, the pain of beatings, the echoes of abuse and neglect—they all resurfaced, reminding her of the life she had endured. Her whole life, she had been treated worse than an animal.

Her resolve hardened, and with a determined look etched upon her face, she strode towards the front entrance. The horses in the stable sensed her presence, their gentle neighs a whispered acknowledgment. Even in her Cursed form, they recognized the girl who had offered them kindness—the one who fed them apples, sang them songs, and brushed their manes.

Lost in her thoughts, Astraea failed to notice the transformation occurring behind her. Erasmus gradually grew darker, twisting and contorting until he merged completely into her shadow. In the dimness, only his pair of amethyst eyes remained, glistening like beacons of guidance.

Rustle.

With cautious steps, Astraea approached the front door, her hand gripping the cold handle. The door gave way slightly, revealing a wooden chain on the inside, barring her entry.

Crack.

She effortlessly reached through the gap and shattered the chain into pieces, letting them fall noiselessly to the ground. With her contract solidified, Astraea’s strength now matched the strongest men in town. Moving with utmost silence, she made her way toward the bedroom. The floorboards groaned silently under her weight as she made her way to the final destination. Her heart remained calm in the darkness, her footsteps echoing through the hallway she had traversed countless times.

Creak.

Astraea opened the door slowly, revealing Aunt Helen and Uncle Roger in a peaceful slumber. They lay cozily in the bed, their faces hidden in the mound of pillows propped on the headboard. Their rhythmic breathing filled the room, undisturbed as if they had never lost their niece.

The sight of them further hardened Astraea’s resolve.

"They've already forgotten about me," Astraea scoffed silently, repulsed by the tranquility that surrounded them.

But not for long.

"GET UP!" Astraea commanded. In one fell swoop she closed the distance and clawed her hands into Uncle Roger’s hair. With brute force, she yanked him out of bed, several pillows following him onto the ground.

"Argh!" he cried out, dazed and in pain. Astraea's newfound strength was on full display as she effortlessly overpowered him.

"Who are you?" Uncle Roger yelled, attempting to break free, but Astraea held him firmly before banging his head into the adjacent wall, causing him to crumple.

Upon hearing Astraea’s voice, Aunt Helen startled awake. She jumped out of bed and grabbed the metal candlestick holder from the nightstand, her hands trembling as she tried to keep distance from her unknown assailant.

"What do you want?" she demanded, her disheveled hair and crumpled nightgown revealing her confusion. She failed to recognize Astraea in her transformed state.

"Can't you tell?" Astraea said as she advanced towards Aunt Helen. Behind her, Uncle Roger was still groaning and clutching his head, a visible dent showcased on the wall.

Step by step Astraea closed the distance, her feet dancing as she evaded the swinging candlestick with ease. Aunt Helen shrieked in fear until they were mere feet away from each other.

"I've come back for my warm welcome home."

Aunt Helen’s eyes widened. She recognized that voice from anywhere.

"Shouldn't you be dead?" Aunt Helen screamed, her panic mounting. "Stay away from me!"

Astraea dodged Aunt Helen's blows and disarmed her, snatching the candlestick from her grip. She marveled at her newfound strength, feeling as if she were taking candy from a baby. Aunt Helen retreated to a corner, defenseless and frightened.

Seeing Aunt Helen’s vulnerable state, Astraea raised her arms in anticipation.

SLAP!

Aunt Helen’s face recoiled at the impact, her hands immediately cupping her cheeks as the force was so hard it split skin. Red blood started trickling down from her cheek to her face.

"Oh no," Astraea said, tilting her head slightly. "Uncle Roger always said not to hit the face.”

“I must’ve forgotten."

Astraea savored the mix of confusion, panic, and despair that flickered in Aunt Helen's eyes.

As Aunt Helen continued to cower in her corner, still groggy from sleep and struggling to comprehend the unfolding events, Astraea made her way out of the bedroom, dragging Uncle Roger kicking and moaning with her.

Before shutting the door completely, she locked eyes with Aunt Helen once more. In Aunt Helen's gaze, a collision of crimson bloodlust and ebony fear clashed fiercely.

"I'll be back for you," Astraea said, her eyes cold with fury.

"So wait here until then."