As Frank made his exit, leaving me alone in the damp and dark room, frustration hung heavy in the air. The girl let out a sigh, clearly exasperated by the situation we found ourselves in. "Another one?" she muttered, her voice tinged with both annoyance and concern. "How are they managing to capture my people?"
Her gaze turned towards me, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of suspicion. "Hey kid, what clan are you from in the demon continent?" she asked, her tone demanding yet strangely soothing. Clan? The word echoed in my mind, unfamiliar and confusing. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Clan?" I repeated, seeking clarification.
The girl's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and disbelief crossing her features. "Did they hit you too hard?" she asked incredulously, her voice laced with a touch of sarcasm. "Yes, I said clan, child." Her words dripped with a hint of condescension, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of irritation. Who did she think she was, demanding answers from me?
I let out an exasperated huff, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "Listen, miss, I don't mean to burst your bubble, but I'm no demon, and I have no idea what clan thing you're talking about," I retorted, my voice tinged with annoyance. The audacity of this woman! We had just met, and she was acting as if she held all the answers, demanding information from me as if it were her right. It was infuriating. We were both trapped in this wretched place, facing the same uncertain fate, and yet she seemed to think she was somehow superior. It was absurd.
"What do you mean you're not a demon?" she pressed, her eyes narrowing as she inched closer, prompting an involuntary flinch from me. "Easy, child, I'm not going to hurt you," she murmured, her voice a blend of reassurance and weariness. As she settled next to me, the sound of her chains clinking together punctuated the silence of the room.
In the dim light, her face became clearer, revealing more of who she was. She appeared to be in her forties, yet her beauty was undiminished by age, a timeless grace about her. "I'm Aria," she declared, her eyes scrutinizing me with a mix of curiosity and intensity.
"You look to be a demon, and... your aura screams it," she observed with a calm certainty that seemed to come from years of experience. Aura? The concept was foreign to me, sparking more questions than answers. I've been hearing a lot about an aura, but what exactly does that mean? What are they talking about when they mention an aura? I was utterly lost in this conversation, trying to grasp the meaning behind her words and the world she was a part of.
"Hmm, how old are you, kid?" she inquired, her voice carrying a soft undertone as she picked up on my bewildered expression regarding the concept of auras. "I'm fifteen," I responded, my words barely above a whisper, betraying my youth and uncertainty.
She exhaled a deep sigh, a mix of concern and resignation passing over her features. "You're still so young, but you should at least know this much... Are you from the demon continent?" she probed further, her gaze intent on finding the truth.
I could only muster a shake of my head in response, indicating a 'no', which elicited another sigh from her. Gently, with a touch that seemed out of place in our grim surroundings, she took my hands in hers, her fingers tracing the bruises and rope burns that marked my skin.
"Listen to me closely, child," she began, her voice dropping to a whisper as if the walls themselves could betray us. "I have a way of getting out of here, but you'll have to do exactly as I say and stay strong," she confided, her eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation or fear.
"Will you help me, child?" she asked, the question hanging between us. It felt less like a request and more like a challenge, a test of my resolve and courage in the face of the unknown.
"Why?" I found myself asking, the word slipping out almost involuntarily. "Why would you help me? You don't even know me. For all you know, I could shout for the guards this very moment," I continued, the words tumbling out with a mix of suspicion and newfound bravery.
"And why would you need my help, of all people? If I decide to assist you, what then? What happens to me after we escape?" I pressed on, my voice gaining an edge of defiance, a spark of confidence igniting within me.
She looked at me, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Good, you're not as naive as you appear," she complimented with a hint of respect. "I'm glad you asked. At least now I know there's something up there," she teased, lightly tapping my forehead with her finger, which only made me frown in response.
Her expression shifted, the softness in her gaze giving way to a more stern, serious look. "I know you won't tell the guards... whether you like it or not, or even accept it, you're a demon, and they won't believe a word you say. And yes, I do have my reasons for wanting to help you, child," she explained, her voice firm, leaving no room for doubt that she had a plan and a purpose for me in it.
"Listen, whether you realize it or not, you're stronger than you think," she began, her voice filled with a mix of certainty and encouragement. "Even without all the fancy training and knowledge about the energy that flows through you, I bet you've never had a proper lesson on that stuff, right? I mean, hell, you don't even know what the heck an aura is or how to sense it!" she exclaimed, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
I could only nod my head in agreement, silently acknowledging my lack of understanding as I absorbed her words. It was true, I had never delved into the intricacies of my own power, never explored the depths of what I was truly capable of.
"But here's the thing," she continued, her voice taking on a more serious tone, "if you could just catch a glimpse of the density and size of your aura right now, without any training or fancy techniques, you'd be blown away by the sheer potential you possess. And that's why I want to take you back with me to the demon continent. I want to train you, to help you unlock that untapped power within you, so you can fight alongside us."
Her words hung in the air, a weighty proposition that demanded careful consideration. "Of course, it wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows," she added, her voice tinged with a hint of caution. "If I manage to save you from this place, then yeah, you'd be indebted to me for saving your life. Think of it as a partnership, a chance for growth and a new beginning," she explained, her eyes searching mine for any sign of understanding.
My frown deepened, frustration and anger bubbling up within me like a tempest. "What? Leave one form of bondage for another? Are you planning to hit me, stab me, or drug me until I'm numb, just to have your way with me?" I hissed, the words dripping with defiance and a simmering resistance to the idea.
She held up her hands, a gesture of peace and understanding. "Whoa there, hold up! That's not what I meant at all," she quickly interjected, her voice laced with sincerity. "I don't want to harm you, I want to empower you. I want to help you embrace your true potential, not strip you of your autonomy. Trust me, I'm not.
As she stood there, the weight of her gaze felt like an anchor, steady and unyielding. "Why?" I pressed, my voice a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Why invest in me when there's a chance I might just turn on you? I could be your downfall, a traitor in waiting." My caution was a shield, held tightly against the uncertainty of her intentions.
She exhaled, a long and thoughtful sigh that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken stories. "I get it, being cautious is your way of surviving," she said, her tone softening. "But sometimes, kid, that shield of caution can become a barrier that keeps you from living, from reaching out and grasping the strength that's rightfully yours." Her hand reached out, ruffling my hair with a familiarity that felt strangely comforting.
Her eyes held a glint of something more, a hidden depth that hinted at plans within plans. "I won't lie to you; I have my reasons, my own goals. But that's a conversation for another day," she said, her voice laced with a promise of future revelations. "For now, just know that what I'm asking won't bring you harm or lead you to your end. When the time comes, when I call upon you, can I count on you to stand with me?" Her question hung between us, an invitation and a challenge all at once.
I felt the resistance within me, the urge to push back, to maintain that distance. But her sincerity, the earnestness in her plea, it chipped away at my defenses. "It's not like I've got a wealth of options," I muttered, brushing her hand away, a half-hearted attempt to regain some semblance of control. "What is it that you need from me?" I asked, resignation lacing my words as I acknowledged the invisible threads that seemed to bind us together.
"Great, I'm glad you're on board," she replied, a genuine smile playing on her lips. "While we're here, I'll do my best to teach you what little I can. But we'll have to wait until the end of this month to leave. That's when they plan to auction us off." Her words hung in the air, heavy with a mix of uncertainty and resignation.
I couldn't help but feel a pang of surprise at her next words. "The person who's going to buy us is actually a friend of mine," she said, her smile catching me off guard. It was a smile that held secrets, a smile that seemed to hide a world of complexities. I couldn't help but wonder why someone with such connections would find themselves in this predicament.
"Why are you here?" I blurted out, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. "If you have friends who possess wealth and power, why would you be caught up in something like this?" My words were tinged with a mix of confusion and intrigue, my eyes searching hers for answers.
She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "You really want to know, huh?" she teased, her voice carrying a sense of mystery. It was in that moment that I realized there was more to her than met the eye. She had an air of warmth and gentleness, a motherly quality that seemed to wrap around her like a comforting embrace.
Her sigh filled the space between us with a weight that seemed to make the air itself heavier. "I was actually on a mission, child," she began, her voice tinged with the weariness that comes from carrying a burden too long. "I needed to understand why our people were being taken. It never made sense to me. Our continent is known for its security, its impenetrable defenses."
She paused, her gaze distant as if she were seeing through the walls to a place far away. "But as with all things, where there's light, shadows lurk. Amongst our own, there are those who are consumed by greed, demons who see no wrong in trading the lives of their brothers for gold and gain."
With a heavy heart, she continued, her hand absentmindedly rubbing her temple as if to soothe a persistent ache. "So I took on the disguise of a slave, allowed myself to be captured intentionally, all in hopes of uncovering the identities of these traitors." A note of frustration crept into her voice. "But alas, my efforts were in vain, and here I am, caught in the very trap I set out to dismantle."
She turned her gaze back to me, and it softened, a gentle warmth returning to her eyes. "I suppose I'll have to adapt my methods, continue my investigation through different means while I'm here." Her words were resolute, and despite the setback, she offered a soft smile—a silent promise that she wasn't giving up.
I sighed and shook my head, "so what's that gotta do with me? How can I even assist you?" I questioned. "You say it like it's simple, kid," she began, her voice a mix of encouragement and challenge. "What I'm asking from you is not just an attempt, but a genuine, deep-seated effort. I want to see that fire, that rage. You've been too passive, too willing to let life knock you around without standing your ground." She let out a sigh, heavy with the weight of unspoken stories.
"Fight back!" she exhorted, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that was both unsettling and electrifying. "There's a spark in you, I can tell, but you need to fan it into a flame."
I felt my brow furrow, a frown etching itself onto my face as I retorted, "I do fight back. You don't know a thing about me, where I've been, or what I've faced. Yet here you are, assuming I don't try, do you think I want to be here!" The words came out sharper than I intended, hissed through clenched teeth as my anger began to bubble to the surface.
Her reaction was a single raised eyebrow, a silent acknowledgment of my defiance. "No, you don't understand," she replied with a calm that contrasted my growing irritation. "It's not about trying in the way you think. There's something holding you back, something deep inside that you might not even recognize—fear."
She recounted the way I had been manhandled earlier, her tone a mixture of observation and disappointment. "He pushed you around effortlessly. You're still a boy in many ways; you haven't yet shouldered the weight of what it means to be a man." With another sigh, she seemed to look right through me, seeing not just who I was, but who I could become.