Where are you going?

"I'm nothing more than an empty shell."

Astraea exited the woods, her heart heavy, and made her way back to the cabin, unaware of a crucial detail. She believed her brother had murdered David. Yet, if she had looked more closely at the body, she would have noticed that his feet were not severed—they were torn apart by something with inhumane strength. If Astraea had examined for more external injuries, she would have seen the fang marks on his neck that only one creature could leave.

But Astraea remained oblivious, consumed by thoughts of revenge against her brother for the death of David, even as her motivations were driven more by obligation than genuine feeling.

As she neared the cabin, she veered away, each step taking her further from the tiny abode. Ahead stood a massive gate, reminiscent of those found at the entrance of noble towns. Like the gates for villages housing the royal family, this town's gate was gilded in gold, while those for commoners were cast in silver.

To pass through these gates and enter the towns, one needed to be of high standing, possess authorized access slates, or pay a steep toll. Nobles could enter with merely their family crest, while the king bestowed authorized slates—small rectangular stone tablets engraved with the royal emblem—to those permitted to enter and leave at will.

Astraea walked away from the gate, acutely aware of her lack of credentials; she had arrived unprepared. She strolled along the towering wall that barred unauthorized entry, its pristine surface hiding its imperfections.

When she halted, Astraea noticed an opening large enough for her to squeeze through. Narrow as she was, it took some effort to navigate the gap, evidence that whoever created it was quite small.

After ensuring no one was watching, Astraea slipped through and dashed into the throng, eager to blend in with the bustling crowd. The sight of her drew curious glances, many admiring her features. Astraea perched on a crate along the sidewalk, gazing at the palace she aspired to infiltrate one day. While she had no intention of approaching the king directly, her primary goal was to become a Vampire-Sorceress; she would leave marrying the king to chance.

Astraea climbed off the crate and began to explore the town, observing the people around her. Soon, she spotted a woman in a heated argument with a young man. 

"You've been begging for food every day, and now all of my fruits are gone. Do you expect me to believe that's a coincidence?" The woman waved a half-eaten apple in front of the hungry boy.

"It wasn't me!" he protested, his voice trembling. The young man stood defenseless; no one had witnessed who had taken the fruits, and he was too lowly regarded for anyone to come to his aid.

Astraea, taking in the scene, stepped closer. "May I assist you?" she offered politely, her gentle demeanor softening the woman's irritation.

"I'm sorry, but you're not needed. This man ate my fruits, and I'll make him confess," the woman replied, still agitated.

Astraea smiled at her and took the apple from the woman's hand, ignoring her protests. She brought it to her nose for a brief sniff, then turned her gaze to the boy, who looked unkempt and desperate. She scrutinized the apple again before tossing it back to the woman. 

"He wasn't the one who did it," she declared confidently.

The woman frowned, skepticism clouding her expression. "What proof do you have?"

Astraea laughed lightly, gesturing toward the apple. "Do those look like bite marks made by human teeth?" 

The woman leaned in, studying the apple closely. Realization dawned on her, and her frown faded.

"Can you tell me your name, dear?" she asked, her tone now kind and apologetic.

"Astraea."

"I'm Jane. Thank you," she said, nodding in acknowledgment. "I'm sorry for accusing you and not listening." Jane turned her gaze to the boy, remorse washing over her. Astraea could sense the sincerity in her voice; despite her earlier harshness, Jane seemed to possess a genuinely kind heart.

The boy sighed with relief, his stomach growling audibly. A moment of silence passed, before they all broke into laughter, the boy blushing with embarrassment.

"Let me treat you both to a meal as an apology," Jane offered, her voice warm. The boy, who had long forgotten the taste of a real meal, eagerly accepted.

Astraea hesitated, prepared to decline the offer, not wanting to impose. But when she saw the hopeful glint in Jane's eyes, she realized that refusing would only burden the woman's conscience.

With a smile, the three of them entered a quaint two-story structure. Jane led them to a table, summoning a waiter to place an order.

"What's your name, young lad?" the bar owner asked.

The young man frowned, his gaze downcast. "I don't have a name." 

Jane, adept at listening, caught his quiet admission. Astraea felt a pang of confusion and pity. In her world, everyone had a name; she found the idea of someone living without one unfathomable.

The boy continued, a sad smile on his face. "My mother died when I was a newborn, and my father abandoned me. A cruel man found me when I was near death, and he never gave me a name. He called me 'boy,' but I eventually escaped."

"Ah, I see." Astraea felt an unexpected weight settle in her chest. She hated to admit it, but when she heard the boy's tale, she felt nothing. 'I suppose this is the price I have to pay for power,' she thought, a sadness lingering in her heart.

The waiter arrived, setting bowls of steaming noodles before them. Jane turned to the boy, her curiosity piqued. "Can you tell me how old you are?"

"Nineteen," he replied, his tone devoid of any excitement.

Jane then looked to Astraea, as if inquiring about her age as well. Realizing how disrespectful her question might have seemed, she quickly apologized. Astraea dismissed it with a smile. "I'm also nineteen."

Carefully, Astraea took a forkful of noodles, savoring the taste while ensuring she didn't spill. She noticed the bar owner watching her, curiosity evident in his gaze. "Is there a problem?" she asked, her tone light.

"It's nothing. It's just that you don't look like a commoner. Are you perhaps a noble lady?" 

Astraea chuckled, her mind racing. "You have keen eyes, ma'am," she replied, trying to maintain her guise. "However, some things are better left unknown."

Jane smiled, her expression softening. "It would be preferable if you weren't. Nobles irritate me." Astraea was taken aback by her candor, but they let the topic drop, for some things, as Astraea had mentioned, were best left unsaid. 

The boy, engrossed in his meal, finally looked up, a look of bliss on his pale face. 

As he savored the moment, he glanced out the window and felt a bitter pang of nostalgia, recalling the life he would soon return to—wandering the streets, perpetually hungry.

The moment was interrupted by a sigh from Jane, who had finished her meal and was clearing the table. Astraea stood and smiled at both of them. "I have to leave now. It was a pleasure to meet you both."

Jane returned the smile warmly. "Likewise."

Astraea walked out the door, but the boy, lingering for just a moment, was stopped in his tracks by a sudden voice.

"What do you think you're doing?"