BLEEDING HEART | ONC 2024

02 - HIM

I nod. "You have my word, Majesty."

He may have instilled centuries worth of wisdom into my brain, but he hasn't explained what exactly our goals are. But if I show impatience by asking him about them too soon, he'll punish me.

I've known him for five minutes, and I can already tell he's unforgiving and strict.

He won't accept defeat from me.

"There's havoc above ground." Bazroth unclasps his hands to set them on the armrests, drumming his blackened nails on the velvet. "Havoc, as in too much peace. Too much prosperity."

I acknowledge this. "And our world thrives on the opposite?"

"Precisely." His fingers drum faster. "The less negativity above ground, the more we, those banished below, suffer. Demons require a minimum of bloodshed and violence to survive."

"And I'm to spread that bloodshed and violence?" I gulp, realizing I'm getting ahead of myself.

Thankfully, Bazroth doesn't seem to hold my restlessness against me. "In a manner of speaking. There's a particular type of negativity that I believe will topple the goddesses and their flawed system. That is what you're responsible for."

I tense, waiting for his details. This is it—this is what I was created for. The answer looms in my head on repeat; it has been since I opened my eyes.

Heartbreak.

It's there, but...what does it mean?

"Exivaria's vocabulary is limited." Bazroth rolls his eyes. "Certain words were banished, like us. One such word is heartbreak." I wince, and he gestures at me. "It's the very thing I created you to do, and because of those damned goddesses, I have to explain it to you."

I wait, breaths hitched in my chest. All the information in my mind means nothing if I don't understand my purpose, the reason Bazroth birthed me.

"Heartbreak is a disease, Azath. It darkens the heart and renders it wretched, loading it with pain and rage. We want that pain and rage. We want heartbreak." He sits up straight, focused on me, eyes charging with fury though his voice remains level. "That thing in your chest," he motions at me, "it can be wounded if someone takes advantage."

"Takes advantage?" I shake my head. "Can they take advantage of me?"

I thought I was built for roughness, to withstand most abilities and to be physically dominating.

"Not you, specifically, but they can get to your heart. Luckily yours is already darkened beyond repair and can't be affected in the same way as humans." His plump, chapped lips quirk into a sly smile. "Playing tricks, lying, faking love, all that—you'll understand it all once you're above ground."

Above ground. I shudder. My eyes have adjusted to the obscurity of this realm, but I'm already thirsty for light. For brightness. For my sight to be overwhelmed with color.

There's no color here; only faded whites, dirty creams. Charcoal grays and many shades of black.

In my implanted memories, I see color, but I don't know what each hue is called. Excitement flickers under my skin at the notion of learning more.

"You'll know what to do once faced with the challenge," says Bazroth, gripping the edges of his throne's armrests. "Past the portal, you'll receive more information. You'll understand how to break hearts, or cause others to break hearts."

Heartbreaker. So this was my destiny—to ruin the world the goddesses took away from us, as revenge. To inject heartbreak into a place that has never heard of it, never known it was a threat to it.