Into the Darkness: Devotion

I slowly got up from the bed, glancing down at Astrea as he slept. 

His breathing was steady, his arms loosely draped over his chest, and the faintest crease between his brows, as if even in sleep, he was ready for anything.

I stumbled toward the bathroom door, steadying myself against the frame before stepping inside. 

The mirror greeted me with a reflection I barely recognized, bandages peeking from under my robe, and the strange tattoos etched on my chest.

I lifted my hair from my face, forcing a small smile. "Later."

Stronger than him. Older by a few hours. And, most of all, more mature.

I'm going to talk to him. I'm going to explain exactly what I'm feeling.

But I only have two days.

And I don't think I can do it today.

Today, I'll butter him up by being extra nice. After all, I'll be stuck in this room all day.

With that decision made, I shuffled back to the bed, my legs still weak but determined. I sat down carefully, my gaze drifting to Astrea.

A soft groan escaped him as he shifted, his eyes fluttering open, hazy with the remnants of sleep. 

He blinked a few times, then rubbed his face, slowly sitting up.

"Morning," I said softly, trying to sound casual.

He yawned, stretching his arms over his head before giving me a sleepy glance. "You're up early… or did you even sleep?"

"Does it matter?" I replied with a small grin. "I figured I'd keep an eye on you for once."

He snorted softly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Yeah, like I'm the one who needs watching."

Astrea stood, stretching again, then began gathering his things, moving with that effortless efficiency he always had. 

He picked up his sword, checked it, and then started folding some of the clothes from the nearby bags.

I watched him quietly, feeling the words I wanted to say caught somewhere between my heart and throat. But not today.

Today, I'd just be… nice.

Astrea moved toward the bathroom, turning on the shower. The sound of water echoed softly, like rain striking stone, filling the quiet space with its steady rhythm.

"Do you want to take a shower?" he asked over his shoulder, his voice casual, as if the question held no weight.

I stared at him, my lips pressed into a thin line. That's another problem, he's so comfortable with me.

Comfortable enough to see me naked, to act like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Yet he rejected me.

It's really not fair.

But after traveling together for so long, I've grown used to it.

"Yeah," I muttered, shaking off the thought. "But I'll need a change of clothes."

Without hesitation, he crossed the room, his footsteps soft against the wooden floor.

He extended his hand toward me, fingers slightly curled in that familiar, effortless way. 

I placed my hand in his, and he helped me to my feet, his grip firm and steady.

His eyes flicked down to my arm, bronze, intricately crafted, attached just past my elbow.

Without a word, he reached for the release mechanism, his fingers brushing against the cool metal. 

He pressed a small latch hidden beneath the joint, and with a faint click, the prosthetic loosened. 

He guided it off gently, careful not to jar the connection points, and set it down on the table beside the bed.

I flexed my remaining arm instinctively, feeling the strange lightness that always followed its removal.

Astrea then crouched down, disappearing halfway under the bed. 

The sound of rustling fabric followed, and after a moment, he emerged with a worn, dark bag in his hand. 

He unzipped it, rifling through its contents before pulling out a neatly folded pair of red pants, a black shirt, and undergarments.

He tossed them onto the bed beside me.

Then he grabbed a towel from the small shelf near the door, walking back to me. 

"Thanks," I said.

He stepped aside to give me space.

I moved toward the bathroom, towel clutched against my chest. Once inside, I quietly closed the door behind me.

Taking off my robe was difficult with one hand, but it was easier than removing actual clothes. 

Nonetheless, I managed to remove it and stepped into the shower. 

Without my bronze arm, my body felt as light as a feather. 

It makes a huge difference, which is another reason I want to become known and powerful.

With power comes riches. 

Astrea helped some guy create this arm; he doesn't like to admit it, but he was a significant contributor to my survival after I lost it. 

It was a while before I got my mechanical arm, and during those two years, he helped me with everything.

This is probably why he remains unfazed when he sees me in any way, shape, or form. 

He was the main reason I decided to keep going; after his words, I started training to become a knight. 

I had nearly given up on that dream, but he reignited my passion for it.

As I washed my body, I imagined all the things I could say, trying to figure out how to express my feelings.

I don't think confessing to him again is a good idea, and I also don't feel ready to bring up the past.

I grabbed the soap and lathered it through my hair, scrubbing as the water flowed over me. 

After a while, I turned off the water, rinsing out the soap from my hair and the suds from my body. 

I stepped out, took a towel, and wrapped it around myself as I walked to the mirror.

I sighed and wrapped my hair in a bun, tying it over itself and forcing a smile with my hands.

The pain had been dulled by the medicine, but it was slowly creeping back. I noticed faint hints of blood swirling in the water as it drained.

Wounds littered my body, and the two large goat-like horns on my head did nothing to make me feel any better.

I slowly opened the bathroom door and stepped out. As I did, the ship rumbled slightly before settling again.

That meant we'd just crossed the sea line, we were really close now. This boat might be faster than the others.

Astrea was sitting on the bed, holding my sword, carefully inspecting the blade as he cleaned and sharpened it. 

He glanced at me briefly before returning to his task.

I walked over and picked up my undergarments. After some effort, I managed to get them on. The pants weren't much trouble, but the shirt was another story.

I'm right-hand dominant, and even after all this time, I still wasn't used to relying on my left hand.

As I struggled with the shirt, Astrea set the sword aside and walked over. 

Without a word, he helped me pull it over my head and gently guided me to sit back on the bed.

"Just ask for help," he said, pulling the covers over my legs.

"I didn't need any. I could've done it alone."

Ah, damn it, a snarky comeback. I was trying to be nice.

"But… thanks," I added softly.

He sat down beside me and looked at me for a moment before speaking. "You're going to need a new weapon, and also we need to replace your bronze arm."

"Where are we going to find someone who will build it?"

He thought for a moment. "One hundred gold coins, that's the money you got from defeating the demon."

"Really!? With that much, I can buy a mansion and live freely for over a year."

He smiled. "Your arm, I heard of a blacksmith in the empire. He works for the academy."

"So Not only can I go to the academy I can also get a brand new arm?"

He nodded. "So once we hit the mainland it'll take a full moon cycle on foot, but we have other means of travel."

I tilted my head and he smirked. "I've arranged for a train ride, which should only take a day."

I've never rode a train before. That's very exciting, maybe I can tell him on the train.

"We also need to figure out what she was talking about," he said leaning in.

"Huh? He can't be talking about that, right? No. "What are you referring to?"

He pointed at my neck. "Well, isn't it obvious, Art? I'm talking about the prophecy you saw. You don't really think it was a coincidence, do you? I'm the one who influenced it."

"You influenced it?"

He looked confused and then tapped his head. "Did you forget, I'm a prophet."