BLEEDING HEART | ONC 2024

02 - HIM

"You were created to be more powerful than any other demon," says Bazroth, stepping down from the platform atop which he stood. "Myself excluded, of course." He wears a cloak too, but his is more richly fabricated, thicker and warmer. It's royal, befitting a ruler.

I sense a chill in the air, breezing against my exposed chest; I'm not donning a shirt under this coat, but I'm not cold.

"Centuries I've spent shaping you, infusing you with power. I gifted you all manners of abilities, sharpened senses, heightened intelligence." He circles around me, each stride thunderous, rattling the ground beneath us. "I've weaved spells into you, hoping you could bypass the curses set upon those of our kind."

"The banishment," I say, recalling bits and pieces of the knowledge I woke up with. Tormenting visions of full-figured women wrapped in halos, shooting globs of energy on beings like me.

Them. Us. The battle.

"The banishment," Bazroth echoes with a slow nod. "When those blasted goddesses couldn't handle our worth, our energy, and they forced us underground to keep our wrath at bay."

I wasn't alive for any of this, yet I saw the images in my mind as if I'd been there. The full-figured women in my mind were the goddesses. They'd shoved us through a portal and sealed it shut, swearing to keep us locked up for all eternity.

My arms bulge as I grit my teeth, seething at their treatment of us. How dare they think they were above us, better than us?

"I also spent many moons crafting a portal that only you can use, to escape our dungeon," says Bazroth, bringing me back to the present.

This is a dungeon, indeed. Bars on fake windows, a ratty scent in my nostrils. The stench of a sooty, dampened floor, annoying drops drizzling from the caky ceiling.

In this place lingers an overall air of despair and dread.

While the room is vast, it still feels tight. Like there are thousands of others within, cramping around me. Or like the walls are closing in, creeping closer with every breath I take.

I'm taking breaths?

I'm breathing. There's a thing pumping inside me, trapped in my ribcage. I frown as I place my hand there, listening to the pulse in my ears.

"Yes," says Bazroth, squinting at me. "You have a heart."

"A heart," I echo, grimacing. "This word is unfamiliar to me."

"You'll get used to it. You'll learn. It's an essential tool to fool the portal into letting you out there. With a heart, you appear as human. And as a human, you are allowed to walk the soil of Exivaria without detection."

A sordid but smart plan. "I see."

"I've tried many times to bring you to life," he admits, returning to his throne. He drops onto it with a thud, shaking the room with his weight. He must be seven or eight feet tall, and I appreciate him sitting down, so that my neck no longer aches from looking up at him.

I'm not sure how tall I am, but I have a great view from where I stand. My height is great enough to notice the doorways in the distance beyond his throne, guarded by masked men. And the chairs off to the sides, piled up in waiting for the next court session.

Torches burn near the thresholds, along with a few more on either side of me.

"I have high hopes for you, Azath." Bazroth's voice is smaller now, as he settles comfortably into his throne and clasps his hands. "You must promise to attain our goals by any means possible, and report to me with any trouble."