The Devil is the Villainess

Chapter VIII: A Stratagem To Take

"It shall serve as your salvation, child."

What are you talking about? I don't need it.

The woman smiled at her genuinely which sent shivers down her spine.

"A key to unlock the chains that bind you to your current plight."

Why am I suddenly remembering that foolish mortal's words?

As Medea gradually stirred from her slumber, a veil of darkness enveloped her senses, casting her into a realm of obscurity. With a faint fluttering of her eyelids, she became aware of the soft fabric that obscured her vision, the gentle pressure of the blindfold against her skin serving as a constant reminder of her disorientation. Slowly, she turned her head, her senses keenly attuned to the presence of another nearby.

To her surprise, Medea detected the faint sound of rhythmic breathing, a comforting cadence that hinted at the peaceful repose of a slumbering figure. With a sense of anticipation, she shifted her gaze toward the source of the sound, her heart quickening with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

There, seated beside her bed in an expression of serene tranquility, was Caelus. His form was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, casting intricate patterns of shadow and light across the contours of his features. Arms crossed and features softened in repose, he appeared every bit the embodiment of tranquility.

Medea's annoyance prickled at the edges of her consciousness, her frustration mounting as she grappled with the limitations imposed by her blindness. With a determined resolve, she sought to rise from her prone position, her movements guided by a sense of urgency born of her predicament.

Unable to bear the confines of her limited vision, she resolved to sit upright, her muscles tensing in anticipation of movement. As she reached out, her fingers grasping for stability amidst the uncertainty, a voice sliced through the silence, jolting her from her thoughts.

"What are you doing?" The question, tinged with a note of curiosity, echoed in the darkness, prompting Medea to pause in her movements. With a slight turn of her head, she directed her attention towards Caelus, his presence a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty.

In the wake of his explanation, Medea's brows furrowed in a gesture of mild irritation, her frustration evident in the furrow of her brow. "Am I confined to this woman's quarters?" she inquired, her voice tinged with a hint of exasperation.

Caelus, ever the picture of calm and composure, met her gaze with a steady resolve. "Yes, I brought you here after you lost consciousness," he confirmed, his words carrying the weight of responsibility.

Medea's fingers instinctively sought out the blindfold that obscured her vision, her touch tracing the edges with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "And why, pray tell, am I subjected to this indignity?" she demanded, her tone laced with a hint of defiance.

"To protect your eyes from the harmful aftereffects of the eclipse," Caelus explained, his voice tinged with a note of caution. Leaning back in his chair, he continued, his expression grave. "The solar eclipse poses a danger to our vision. If one is unlucky, the consequences could be dire—permanent blindness."

Medea's frustration simmered to the surface, manifesting in the sharp click of her tongue as she navigated the space between herself and Caelus. With a swift, calculated movement borne of irritation, she reached out to seize his collar, her grip firm and unyielding. The force of her action pulled him down onto the bed, his back colliding with the mattress in a soft thud. Medea, asserting her dominance, positioned herself above him, her posture one of unmistakable authority.