“Unbutton yourself.”
Astraea felt a chill crawl down her spine as the words hung in the air, commanding her compliance. She gently brushed her hair aside, revealing the row of buttons on her blouse that traced down her back and to her skirt. Methodically, Astraea’s trembling fingers worked to undo each one, their popping sound echoing in the room.
Pop.
Pop.
The creaking floorboards provided a haunting soundtrack as Aunt Helen ventured away, her eyes searching for something with determination.
Pop.
Pop.
Finally, she found what she sought, returning to Astraea's side with a cold, hard object clutched in her hands.
Pop.
With one final button undone, Astraea bared her back to the elements, bracing herself for the imminent pain that awaited her.
Aunt Helen's voice filled the room, a fervent invocation to the Goddess of Light.
"Goddess of Light," Aunt Helen called out, her voice carrying a twisted mix of reverence and cruelty.
"Bring this girl her judgment."
Screams pierced the stillness of the night, shattering the brief moment of tranquility that once clung to the farmhouse. Yet, the Goddess of Light did not grant Aunt Helen's cruel request. Her judgment remained absent, withholding its divine power from both Aunt Helen and Astraea.
After all, the Commandments only stated not to kill your fellow human.
They did not mention the ability to harm.
On that day, judgment was cast by Aunt Helen herself.
. . .
Astraea stirred, her body convulsing with pain as she attempted to find a more comfortable position. The golden rays of the sun filtered through the cracks in the rickety farmhouse, casting streaks of light upon her battered form.
Moaning softly, Astraea shuddered, her exposed back adorned with deep crimson welts. The remnants of Aunt Helen's brutal judgment were etched upon her skin, the physical wounds mirroring the torment she endured. Each breath was accompanied by a wince, fearing that the slightest movement might cause her injuries to reopen, reigniting the searing pain.
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Creak.
Astraea's body tensed at the sound, her instincts urging her to respond swiftly. If it was Aunt Helen, and she failed to react in time, who knew what further punishment awaited her?
"It's me," a gruff voice said.
Struggling to focus, Astraea weakly turned her gaze up to see the blurry figure of the trader. She couldn't discern the expression on his face, but he drew nearer until he stood a few feet away.
"Last night was rough," he stated matter-of-factly. To any observer witnessing the scene, it would have been an immediate call to summon healers and tend to Astraea's wounds. The scent of straw mingled with the faint hint of iron, and splotches of scarlet stained the space around her.
"You're lucky to be alive. Is Aunt trying to kill you?"
Astraea breathed out, her voice feeble. "She can't...the Goddess's Judgment..."
"Right," the trader sighed, his voice trailing off, cautious not to complete the sentence.
For the first time, Astraea felt a glimmer of gratitude toward the trader. Their interactions were usually limited to functional exchanges, ensuring the smooth operation of the produce stand. Yet, at this moment, he stood as the only individual on the farm who had shown her even a little bit of kindness.
"I'll tell you what," the trader continued. "I can manage the stand until the—er—what's it called? Summer Solstice?"
"Until then, rest, so you can help me later."
"But..." Astraea's voice faltered, uncertainty marring her words. "What about Aunt Helen?"
"I'll make her see right," the trader said. "As a trader, I know how to get people to buy."
He paused, glancing back at the angry lashes etched onto Astraea's back. "And the way you look right now," he added, "would scare anyone away for miles."
Astraea barely contained a laugh, and the trader joined in. But suddenly realizing his happy demeanor, he coughed and went back to his normal stoic expression.
"I will leave now," the trader announced, heading toward the door.
"Goodbye," Astraea whispered, her voice a mere breath. A small tear escaped her eye as he departed.
. . .
Left alone in the barn, Astraea hastily wiped away her tears, gingerly propping herself up to assess her situation. Perhaps, she thought, Aunt Helen might feel a lingering awkwardness, knowing that the trader was aware of the punishment she inflicted upon Astraea the previous night. With any luck, Aunt Helen would grant her a respite until...
Until when?
Frustration welled up within Astraea, her teeth gnashing in exasperation. What was the point of her skill with words when it proved ineffective within her own family? Would she be subjected to a lifetime of beatings for circumstances beyond her control?
A heavy breath escaped Astraea's lips as she confronted her harsh reality.
Will I live the rest of my life like this? To serve others, to be punished?
What about me?
Her thoughts grew more distressed.
What about me?
With a deep sigh, Astraea collapsed back on the haystack, her mind too overwhelmed to think any longer.
Goddess, is this the world you intended?
...
Goddess... answer me!
Once again, the Goddess remained silent, refusing to heed Astraea's desperate plea.
In that fleeting moment, Astraea longed for the Goddess to deliver judgment upon her wretched family. But as the seconds ticked by, it became painfully clear that her hopes were in vain.
Enough. she thought, shifting her gaze from the ceiling above to the tough blades of dried grass beneath her. She would continue relying on herself, as she always had.
. . .
Miles away in the darkness far removed from Astraea's existence, beyond the boundaries where the Goddess's light could no longer penetrate, an intangible force stirred. Within the depths of the emptiness, something ancient and powerful awakened.