Chapter 59: Afrosia’s dilemma, Sophisia?
After the playful chaos, the room finally settled into a rare calm. The blonde girl sat dazed on the bed, hands propping her up, her blue eyes clouded with confusion.
Mistfeather and Blazewing had vanished, but the faint sound of running water hinted at their whereabouts. After all, they’d become walking abstract art, drenched in rainbow paint.
Aphrosia stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.
What should she do?
The Time Goddess’s training was growing harsher, now including theology and politics. Even if Aphrosia were slow, she could guess the goddess’s intent.
She wasn’t that slow. Without her wit, how could she—a half-elf shunned by society, stripped of magic, penniless, and hunted by the Church—have survived this long?
Admittedly, that annoying pink phoenix, Ifrora, deserved some credit…
Over the years, a few had secretly helped her. Aldric, who sent supplies via Yanlu, was a prime example.
But Aphrosia suspected Yanlu had slipped some of her own “gifts” into Aldric’s deliveries. How else to explain a dignified man sending shrinking potions and animal-transformation elixirs? And without antidotes! Those were clearly Yanlu’s shady, no-brand concoctions—potentially lethal!
Though, in the future, those odd potions would indeed prove useful…
Back to the Time Goddess. Her goal was glaringly obvious. At first, Aphrosia thought Astraea feared she’d disgrace the family (not that there was much left to disgrace—no family, no honor!). But that theory crumbled. Becoming a noble lady didn’t require learning politics. So what role demanded such knowledge?
Astraea wanted her in politics? Ridiculous.
Then what? Tracing her identity, her elf mother was a high noble but had left her clan over a human affair—dead end. That left Saintess Aitelien. The Astraea family had always produced saintesses, including the current candidate, Sophia.
The answer was clear.
Astraea wanted to mold her into a saintess—one tailored to her will.
But what about Sophia? Chosen by the Pope, she had strong faith and public support. If Aphrosia became the goddess’s saintess, what would happen to Sophia, the people’s hope? A saintess was a symbol of faith, and Aphrosia couldn’t compete with Sophia’s devotion.
Not that she wanted to follow Astraea’s plan. Being a saintess was too restrictive, and Aphrosia craved freedom.
Plus, saintesses were tied to the Church, which she despised. Constant dealings with them only soured her view further.
Still, even without becoming a saintess, she’d uphold the Astraea family’s duties. That was inescapable.
Poor Sophia…
Who was she, really? Aphrosia couldn’t figure it out. Asking Astraea yielded vague answers.
From what she knew, Aitelien had no siblings or distant relatives. The Astraea family was always a single line.
Why no brothers? The saintess family produced only women, even their spouses were female. The goddess couldn’t bless them otherwise, granting magic to allow same-sex couples to bear daughters. So where did Flo come from? That was the hidden secret (foreshadowed earlier).
Oh, right—Aphrosia wasn’t biological! Sophia was! Aphrosia was adopted!
That was the rumor.
But how to explain her time and miracle powers? The Church’s holy blessings didn’t lie—Sophia was undeniably Astraea, eligible to be a saintess.
Did her mothers sneak another child behind her back? Aphrosia was skeptical, but it made no sense!
As she mulled over these tangled thoughts, the two lolis finished their long bath, transforming from paint-splattered messes to soft, fragrant cuties.
Blazewing, wrapped loosely in a towel, stepped out first, her bare feet pattering. Perhaps unused to her human form, the towel barely clung to her, revealing tender, pink skin in a half-hidden, half-exposed tease—practically useless!
She hopped onto the bed, rubbing against the soft blankets, the towel slipping off entirely, leaving her bare. Even Aphrosia, flustered, turned away to avoid the shameless display!
She was Aphrosia, yes, but also Flo! Thirty-eight years as a man across two lives!
This was her first time seeing such a bold sight outside her family!
Mistfeather, more modest, properly covered herself. She plopped beside Aphrosia, cheeks puffed in a sulk, clearly having been bullied by her sister in the bath, refusing to acknowledge her.
“Aphrosia, where to next?” the blue-haired loli asked, staring at her flushed face.
“The Silver Moon Guild, to gear up.”
Why the Silver Moon Guild? Well, that’s another story…