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?"

I freeze, wondering how much of my mind he's been reading since I got here.

"Naturally, I couldn't tell you who she was. It would destabilize you, being up against such a powerful being. One of a similar level as you. One who spent millennia ensuring heartbreak didn't exist in the world, and you," he sneers, "broke her heart."

I'm melting into my seat. Boiling up with rage, but icing over with fear at the same time.

Dru is...an angel of love? She's love itself? She protects love, and I...broke her?

"Imagine my surprise when you basically delivered her to me," says Bazroth, unaffected by my growing fury. "I couldn't tell you, but look: it worked. You took away all her defenses, Azath. You weakened her powers, her hold over the population. Now, hearts are darkening all over. Thanks to you, we demons will roam freely again. We will destroy everything they built and conquer their land as our own."

It's too much for me. I snarl, my upper lip trembling as it exposes my canines. "Evil. You're evil."

I was bred for evil, but this goes too far. I'm disgusted with myself, with what I've enabled. With how my master abused me, lied to me.

Over the past few weeks, I've realized I hate liars.

Bazroth is a schemer. He omitted things, important things, to get me to do his bidding without question. He forgot to warn me about beings like me who wandered the earth to prevent the thing he created me to do.

Angels.

Bazroth scoffs. "Of course I'm evil, Azath. I'm the King of Hell. I'm on a path of revenge against those who mistreated me. The goddesses, and their snotty little humans. And your precious little Druvena? She works for the goddesses. It was only natural that she be the tipping point leading to their demise."

"You're a fraud," I say, unable to block my words. He can break my neck in an instant, but I've had enough of keeping quiet. Enough of faltering in his presence as if he's some god.

He's not. He's a fiend who manipulated me into starting his war for him.

And I didn't consent to it.

Before I can speak further, he lifts his palm, silencing me. "I didn't need your consent," he says, confirming that he has been dipping into my thoughts all this time. He knows. He feels my guilt, my questioning, and he's going to make me pay for it. "I made you, Azath. You were created for me, as an extension of me. To go where I couldn't and do what I couldn't."

"But I—"

His hand raises higher, its energy sealing my mouth shut. "You'll be rewarded, Azath. Showered with gold and all the pretty women you can take. Demon women. Druvena was nothing but a vessel for our goals. You must forget her."

How he knows her full name when I don't is troubling to me. Not only did he recognize my description of her before, but he's been aware, this whole time, that I might bump into her. In fact, he was probably counting on it.

And he thought I, a demon of heartbreak, would stand a chance against an angel of love?

Somehow I prevailed, but this explained why I was so damn attracted to her. Why I almost let her take control. Why it was so hard for me to walk away from her.

She's love itself. And I...broke her.

I broke an angel.

Which means...I'm much more powerful than I thought.

Which means Bazroth might not have as much dominion over me as I thought.

Growling, I fight Bazroth's hold over my mouth, and manage to move my lips enough to say, "you think I care about riches and women?"

His eyebrows jerk up in surprise at my undermining of his ability. "You dare speak up, boy?"

"I'm no boy," I say, watching as his hand shakes, his arm tensing from my power undoing his. I'm not sure how it's happening, but it appears the pupil is surpassing the master.

He built me to withstand an angel's appeal; and apparently, to test his own powers.

"You are," he retorts, exerting more energy to keep his arm up. "Don't forget that I made you. And I can take you apart just as easily."

With that, he flicks his wrist, sending me soaring across the room. I barrel through three layers of thick wall and land outside of the palace, dazed.

Dazed...but not dead.

He's opted not to kill me. That throw was a warning.

Well, he should have killed me.

As I stand, cringing from the soreness, I brush myself off. I don't want anything to do with his nasty war. I don't want to be involved in his messy revenge.

Perhaps I'm supposed to thrive on heartbreak, but I don't. I thrive on her more.

And I want to save her. Save the world. Before Bazroth dares walk on its surface again.

Wordcount: 1,391
TOTAL: 31,069