The passing of two weeks allowed Astraea to heal her wounds in the solitude of the family's farmhouse. As the Summer Solstice Festival approached, the town gradually showed signs of life. Delicate yellow banners fluttered in the breeze, adorning the buildings and imbuing the streets with a sense of anticipation.

Shopkeepers diligently tended to their storefronts, meticulously dusting and wiping, ensuring that everything appeared pristine and inviting. The markets teemed with activity, bustling with customers eager to buy the necessary materials for the upcoming festivities.

This year's Summer Solstice held particular significance. After over a decade of absence, the Apostles were set to march through the town once more. While they graced many towns during the celebration, their presence had been scarce in this particular place. The reason was simple—this town was nestled dangerously close to the Abyss.

According to ancient legend, when the Goddess of Light had vanquished the Daemon of Darkness, she had been unable to eradicate his existence entirely. Instead, she banished him to the farthest reaches of the land, creating the Abyss. For centuries, she managed to confine him within those shadowy depths. Yet, the darkness of the Abyss constantly threatened to spill over, seeking to consume the world once again. Thus, the Apostles of Light emerged, wielding the power bestowed upon them by the Goddess herself. Their purpose was to combat any evil entities that dared to emerge from the Abyss, protecting humanity from the Darkness.

Why the Apostles refrained from launching a full-scale assault on the Abyss remained a mystery. However, they deliberately kept their distance from this particular town, for reasons only known to them.

With the festival in full swing, Aunt Helen appeared unusually cheerful on more than one occasion. As people busied themselves with preparations for feasts and joyous celebrations, the farm experienced a surge in business. The trader, under the town's preparations, brought increased earnings to Aunt Helen, momentarily alleviating the burden on Astraea.

But this respite was short-lived. Aunt Helen's newfound optimism soon evaporated, replaced by a familiar scowl. She marched to Astraea's door, her mood now far from amiable.

"Astraea!" she barked, her voice echoing through the haystacks where Astraea slept.

"Tomorrow’s the day of the festival. Thanks to the trader's generosity, you've had your rest for long enough," Aunt Helen declared, her voice laced with thinly veiled threats. She barely suppressed the urge to add additional insults, but work was busy and she was needed elsewhere.

"I expect you to be up and ready to serve customers tomorrow. You know what happens when you fail to meet my expectations."

The words hung heavy in the air as Aunt Helen turned on her heel, leaving no room for Astraea's response.

"Yes, Aunt," Astraea whispered, her words barely audible to the departing figure. It was a formality, a quiet acknowledgment of her compliance. For now, that would suffice.

. . .

During her period of rest, Astraea's wounds had slowly but painstakingly healed. The once vivid red lashes etched upon her back now faded into faint pink scars, testaments to the punishments Aunt Helen had inflicted. Beneath those scars, even lighter remnants of white lines remained, permanent reminders of the daily torment Astraea endured.

At least I'm not permanently maimed, she mused silently, searching for solace in the smallest of victories.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

But for how long will my luck hold? Astraea pondered, her mind clouded by uncertainty.

She took a deep breath, gathered her resolve, and rose from the haystack, allowing her weakened limbs to stretch and adjust to their renewed functionality. The grand celebration of the Summer Solstice awaited her, and she couldn't afford to miss it.

. . .

"Astraea!" a sing-song voice called out.

Turning her head towards the familiar voice, Astraea's lips parted into a warm smile. Mildred approached the fruit and vegetable stand, exuding infectious enthusiasm.

"Oh, how I've waited for this day! You wouldn't believe what has happened these past two weeks! And it's all because of the rumors surrounding the arrival of the noblest of Apostles!" Mildred's voice carried a mixture of excitement and awe.

"Noblest?" Astraea replied, pausing between packing orders, her attention divided. "Are you referring to the royalty among the Apostles?"

"Yes!" Mildred practically beamed with joy. "I’ve heard that the sons of the dukes will grace our town with their presence!" Her words tumbled out in an animated frenzy and her eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"They’re supposed to begin the parade close to sun-down," Mildred continued, a hint of wonder in her voice. "That gives us approximately..." she glanced at an imaginary timepiece, mentally calculating the hours. "Enough time to explore and have fun in the festivities!"

"I'd love to, Mildred–" Astraea began, but her words were interrupted by a steady stream of customers. While conversing with Mildred, she aptly received orders, ensuring each customer felt valued and appreciated.

A subtle radiance seemed to emanate from Astraea, capturing the attention of those who approached the stand.

"But," Mildred whined, seeing Astraea’s reluctance and ignoring how busy she was, "you're always like this! Always having things to do. Why weren't you here for the past two weeks, anyway?"

Astraea's composure wavered momentarily, panic gripping her heart at the thought of those memories. She swiftly masked her turmoil, maintaining a facade of calm.

"I needed to prioritize my family's well-being," Astraea replied cordially. "I'm sure your family has been busy as well, haven't they?" She deliberately stirred Mildred away from the topic of conversation.

Mildred considered the question, her features softening. "Well, I suppose so," she conceded.

"But Papa has everything under control. In fact," she leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "we have a special guest staying at the inn, and Papa is personally attending to him."

"Oh, really?" Astraea's curiosity was piqued. Special guests were a rarity in this town, particularly given its proximity to the Abyss. The inn primarily accommodated only weary travelers and the occasional adventurer passing through.

"Yes! His name is Baron Randall," Mildred revealed, her voice filled with awe. "He's a baron, Astraea! Isn't that exciting?"

"Yes, indeed," Astraea replied absentmindedly, her attention divided between the conversation and the demands of the bustling produce stand. Mildred, consumed by her own excitement, failed to notice the distracted nature of Astraea's response. When she finally realized, she began pouting in response.

“Fine, fine, I get you’re not interested,” Mildred sulked. “But you’ll come visit me at the inn after the festival, ok? Papa wants to prepare a meal for your Aunt and Uncle.”

“You really must come,” Mildred continued to emphasize. She seemed to hold a little desperation in her voice that she was trying to conceal.

“Sure,” Astraea said, noting this concern but not pressing on it. “I’ll make sure to come with Aunt and Uncle.”

“Perfect!” Mildred replied. She seemed relieved as she walked off.

To Astraea, it seemed like Mildred just wanted assistance over having to serve a Baron. After all, the experience could be nerve-wracking. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary at first glance, so she quickly brushed it off.

As Astraea continued serving the customers, she remained oblivious to the smile that lingered on Mildred's face after she turned away. It wasn't a smile of relief or joy; rather, it bore the weight of something else.

It was the smile someone made when they were trying really, really hard to hide something.