BLEEDING HEART | ONC 2024

019 - HER

I lounge on a bench in a once flourishing square, watching the world crumble around me.

The screams and accusations of lies and cheating have become a normal melody in my head. One full day has passed since I infected Hazelvale, and the infestation only continues to grow. Its nasty tentacles have reached the farthest edges of the city, and threaten to creep out into all of Tavalon.

All I can do is watch. I'm alone and powerless. I tried to eradicate a few blackened hearts that were in my vicinity, but for each one killed, three more resurface.

There's no point.

So I sit around instead, dreading the end of my life. I'm sure it's coming.

As if on cue, a screeching siren slams into my ears. A blast of noise I recognize as a goddess' voice—I've only heard it a few times, earlier in my days, but it's a sound one never forgets.

It's deafening and rumbling. So powerful it brings me to my knees, hands clapped over my ears.

No one can hear this but me. It's a cry reserved for angels; a sordid means of communication between them and the goddesses.

Far be it from them to appear in person; they'd much rather slice into my scalp with piercing precision.

"Druvena," screeches the somber, sobering voice of Drenaris—goddess of Tavalon.

"Drenaris," I mutter, wincing from the way her words scrape at the insides of my head.

"You've put us all in danger," she says, not bothering to lessen her intensity. She doesn't care that I'm suffering; if anything, it's her way of warning me of what's to come. Her way of punishing me.

I'm sure Drenaris hates me. After all, I'm her angel, and all I've done is wipe this continent with blood and agony. Even before my demise, my method of choice to keep heartbreak away was death.

I doubt she's always been on board with that.

"Your carelessness has put the world's balance in jeopardy," she continues, so neutral it's almost like she doesn't care. But that's what goddesses sound like: solemn, superior. "Your selfishness let in the negativity we've striven to keep at bay. It's overwhelming, and it's spreading too fast for us to control it."

I wrinkle my nose. "So it's traveled beyond Hazelvale?"

"It's made its presence known on all seven continents, Druvena." There's no additional rage from this sentence, yet I know Drenaris is fuming. She's waiting for the signal from the others, allowing her to put me out of my misery.

There's no point apologizing. I'm too deep in trouble to bother groveling at this point.

"And you've come to announce my sentence and execute it?" My hands are still pressed to my ears, my teeth gritting whenever I'm not talking. Her presence is so overpowering, my legs quake and my core is clenched to stop me from falling on my face.

"I'm here to remind you how heartbreak was potentially one of the main causes of violence and horror and war in Exivaria. To make you remember that's why we hired you to ensure it never existed. The prophecy, Druvena. Did you omit it?"

No angel ever forgets the prophecy. Drenaris received it many, many eons ago, showing her that heartbreak would be the end of Exivaria. She and the other goddesses took it seriously, and fought to make sure it never showed its ugliness in our world.

And I...destroyed that with one roll in the sheets, one twirl of my tongue around Az's.

I can't stop myself. "I'm sorry," I say, though my heart isn't in it. Truthfully, I'm not sure where my heart is. It's so heavy with guilt and disgust that I might have willed it away.