BLEEDING HEART | ONC 2024

018 - HIM

The energy in the throne-room is harsh, suffocating. It's ripe with victory, but one so cruel and evil that it unsettles my stomach.

"Azath," says Bazroth, rising from his throne as I enter. He doesn't give me time to kneel and takes me in his massive arms, patting my back.

I wince, wondering why he'd employ such awkward affection towards me.

"Majesty," I say, tugging out of his embrace, keeping my chin down. I don't want him to see how guilty I'm feeling.

"I sense good news from you," he says, making a chair appear for me, and insisting that I sit.

I appreciate it, because my legs are jittering. "It's done. I infected my target, and she's spreading the disease of heartbreak as we speak."

Bazroth's elation is strange to behold. He smiles, and it makes my blood curdle. "That's fantastic news, Azath." He rubs his hands together, and his eyes illuminate; like black marbles sprinkled with sparkles, all manners of hopes and dreams displaying over his face. It's eerie to see him so happy with such destruction.

"Yes, Majesty," I say, praying he doesn't detect the half-heartedness in my timbre.

The creepy aspect accentuates as Azath strokes his chin, his already ominous smile widening. "I can smell the rot already. A few more blackened hearts, and the veil between our realms will be so thin that we'll be free. Hell's gates will reopen at last."

I squint at him. "So fast?" Yes, I'd detected the despair and negativity upstairs before passing through the portal, but it was still progressing. I doubt Dru's pain has extended so far in such a rapid manner. "Such a strong disease takes time, does it not? Shouldn't we...be patient?"

How could the world become corrupted so quickly? I only broke one heart, officially; it'd take days, maybe weeks for more hearts to become infected. Dru was only the start.

The king's grin is so sinister, it makes me recoil, but I don't think he notices my disgust. Nor does he care. "No. Your target? She was no ordinary target." His gaze narrows on me, though his smile remains. "Surely you figured it out by now. That she wasn't what you thought?"

My spine tenses as I sit up straight. "I told you as much. I sensed her magic was...different."

"It was." He stretches an arm out, extending his skeletal but long fingers. "Because she was love embodied."

"Love," I gulp, "embodied? What do you mean, Majesty?"

He lifts from his throne but stays before it. "She's an angel of love, Azath."

Angel. The word stings inside me.

That's what she called herself, when we made love. I thought it was a term of endearment, but...

"Angel?" My throat is dry. "What is an angel?"

"An agent of the goddesses," says Bazroth, with no condescension in his voice. He's not disappointed that I don't know this; and it's his fault I don't.

He hid this from me. Now I understand why I didn't trust him, why I was so sure he knew more than he let on.

Because he absolutely did.

"Angels are lesser deities with lengthy lifespans who do whatever the goddesses order, by whatever means. And this angel...was one of love." He releases a cackle that shatters through me. "Of all creatures to corrupt, to choose as a target? You chose her."

"How..." I shake my head. "How did you know?"

"Azath!" Bazroth stops his laughter for a moment, turning serious. "I can get in your head, dear boy. Did you think you could hide her from me?"