Astraea's POV
The very first thing that hit me when I opened my eyes was the light.
It was a bright, blinding, and disgustingly cheerful light that was pouring in through the stupidly large windows that lined one side of my room.
I groaned, dragging the back of my hand over my eyes like it would somehow erase the glare assaulting my vision, but it didn't. Because this was the human world, and waking up to unbearable brightness was apparently my new reality.
"Ugh," I muttered, throwing my head back against the pillow in dramatic defeat. "This is hell."
I kicked the sheets off with more force than necessary, sending them tumbling to the floor as I sat up. My hair, tangled and untamed from sleep, fell around my face, shielding me slightly from the light.
I squinted around the room.
Still dark-themed, thank the stars. Draven had done something right, but even that couldn't save me from the giant glass monstrosities letting the sunlight in.
I made a mental note to destroy the windows later, or at the very least, find some blackout curtains.
Stretching my arms above my head, I groaned again, this time more in frustration than tiredness. What was I even supposed to do now?
Live like an ordinary human? Blend in? Pretend I was just another powerless, clueless mortal going about her day like her soul wasn't forged in the depths of the underworld?
I glanced around the room again as if the answer might be tucked under a pillow or written on the walls, but unfortunately for me, it wasn't, and that irritated me more than I wanted to admit.
My entire life had been about purpose. Back home, back where I actually mattered, I had power, I had influence. Now? I had… nothing.
No plan, no direction. Just Draven's vague promise that I'd "adjust."
A sharp knock at the door broke through my brooding, and my head snapped toward the sound.
I narrowed my eyes, already annoyed. "What?!" I barked, not even trying to sound civil.
There was a pause before a small, timid voice replied, "M-Mistress, Master Draven asked that I check if you were awake."
My brow twitched. Master Draven? Right. That was Draven's ridiculous human-world title, I guess.
And Mistress? Really? I nearly gagged.
Rolling my eyes, I shot back, "Well, clearly I am."
Another awkward pause, and then a hurried stammer, "I-I'll inform the Master right away!"
And then I heard it, her retreating footsteps echoing down the hallway. I sighed and flopped back down on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling like it was responsible for the mess that was now my life.
This was my reality now.
Sunshine, servants I didn't recognize or care for, a life I didn't ask for, and no clue what the hell I was supposed to do with any of it.
Perfect.
I lay in bed for another five minutes, grumbling into the pillow like it could absorb my growing annoyance with the entire human world.
Eventually, I groaned loud enough to startle myself and sat up. "Fine," I muttered. "Let's get this over with."
Dragging myself off the bed, I shuffled across the room and into the bathroom, but the moment I stepped inside, I froze.
What in the nine hells was this?
I turned slowly in place, taking in the counters, the mirror across one wall, and a weird bowl-shaped thing—what in the underworld was that for?—sitting underneath what looked like a silver pipe.
And the tub? It just sat there, awkwardly alone in the center of the room like it didn't know what to do with itself.
I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at the strange knobs by the sink and the gleaming rectangle mounted in the wall. I assumed it was meant to hold water, but I had no clue which part of it did what.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, stalking over to the tub. There were more knobs here and a flat metal panel with strange markings.
Nothing made sense. Absolutely nothing.
In Vaelthar, bathing was a luxurious experience. I had an entire team of lower demons whose sole purpose was to scrub, massage, and tend to me. I've never even washed my own hair with my own hands.
But here, I was expected to figure this out alone?
I stormed out of the bathroom, done with trying to decipher whatever was going on in here. I was going to find Draven, and he was going to explain every inch of this cursed house and this cursed world, or I was going to make him very uncomfortable.
Just as I reached for the door handle, a knock came, and I paused.
"Lady Astraea?" came Draven's voice. "May I come in?"
Perfect timing.
"Get in here," I barked.
The door opened, and Draven stepped in, looking unbothered in the way only he could manage, but I didn't give him time to greet me.
"I'm losing my mind," I snapped, throwing my arms into the air. "How am I supposed to live like this? That thing in the bathroom, what does it even do? What is the protocol here? Where's the steam? The bath oils? The handmaidens? Do humans just fend for themselves like wild animals?"
Draven blinked, and his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. "I understand this is a… significant adjustment, my lady, but if you'll just slow down—"
"I am not slowing down!" I snapped. "I am covered in sweat, I haven't had a bath, and my room looks ridiculous!"
Draven took a careful step closer. "I can walk you through how to use the facilities. It's really quite simple—"
Suddenly, a terrible pain slammed into my head. It wasn't physical, not like a migraine or a knock on the skull.
It was inside, as if something had reached into my mind and pulled. My knees buckled slightly, and I gripped the dresser to steady myself, and just like that, I wasn't in the room anymore.
The walls, the light, Draven—they all disappeared, and I was seeing something else entirely.
An alleyway, rain, someone running, and panic in their breath. It wasn't my body, but I could feel it, the fear, the adrenaline, the sting of blood on skin, and then a hand reaching out, grabbing something metallic—then it was gone.
I gasped and stumbled back, blinking rapidly as the familiar view of my room returned.
Draven was staring at me, his expression filled with worry. "Astraea?"
I looked at him, disoriented, and my chest heaving.
"What the hell just happened?" I blurted.
His brows drew together. "You… froze. Just now. For about ten seconds, and then your eyes turned red—"
Red?
They only did that when… when something connected to me, or when I was furious and using my powers, which I wasn't.
"I wasn't here," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "I saw—something. Someone, rather. It wasn't me, but I felt her fear."
Draven moved closer, his expression turning serious. "You had a vision?"
I scoffed. "No. I don't get visions. That's for seers. I'm a demon, not a seer."
He didn't answer right away, and that silence? It was worse than any words.