Chapter 1. Heart Eaters

“I have walked the shadowed paths and studied the demons more than any living man. Mark my warning: those who would devour their foul hearts for power are already halfway to lunacy.” ~ Oswald the Wise, 561 A.C.

———

Year 1111 A.C.

“How much faith can we really put in the Angel of Arms? We know nothing about him, yet we trust he will give us his blessing.”

Valorth stood in the damp, enclosed space that served as his chambers, ignoring the words of his friend, Adion. His eyes were fixed on the two items resting on the makeshift bed before them.

The items leaked purple blood onto the bedsheets, staining them with their putrid-smell. Even now, they pulsed four times per second; both young men could feel the power emanating from them. If they didn’t act quickly, someone from the palace might burst into their room and discover the crime, punishable by death, that they were about to commit.

“I’m telling you, Valorth, we shouldn’t pray. What if the Angel doesn’t agree with our decision and strikes us down?” Adion said nervously from the sidelines.

Valorth didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled out a small knife from inside his waistcoat that he had stolen from the kitchen of the Uradesh Palace. Weapons were commonly used as mediators when praying to the Angel of Arms, though they were usually something more extravagant than a chef’s tool.

Adion’s pale forehead beaded with sweat as his friend held the knife in both outstretched hands and closed his eyes. Valorth’s heart raced at the thought of the danger, but this was the only way he could feel safe before devouring the heart of a demon. Only a fool would risk such a thing without the protection of an Angel.

Valorth drew a deep breath and spoke.

“O Angel of Arms, hear my prayer and grant me… no, grant us your blessing.”

One line in, and he had already stumbled over his words. If his eyes were open, he was sure he would see Adion growing even more frightened. Mistakes were common, after all; he was a palace servant, not a priest.

Valorth swallowed his nerves and continued.

“Today, we venture into the unknown. We devour the hearts of demons, not for our own gain, but to gain the strength to do good for others. To protect the world from evil and set right what is wrong. If what we do is just, O Angel of Arms, please protect us during this process. Let us not be tainted by evil and corruption. Allow us to control the power of the heart.”

After finishing his prayer, Valorth slowly opened his eyes. Everything around him was silent; all that could be heard was the steady beating of the demon hearts and the sound of chatter from the other servants’ rooms. He turned his head toward his red-haired friend, Adion, who stared back nervously.

“Well,” Valorth said with a smile, “we haven’t been struck down. I’ll take that as an accepted prayer.”

Adion swallowed, and his shoulders relaxed. There was no sure way to tell whether the Angel had heard their prayers, but he believed his friend was right. Their lives had not been taken, and that was a good start.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time.”

Valorth reached forward and picked up the demon heart on the right. Adion had claimed the heart on the left when he first brought the two, saying he felt a connection to it.

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Valorth had no complaints. Neither of them was powerful enough to distinguish between the different heart types, nor knowledgeable enough to know what all the types were. They could only hope the powers bestowed upon them were suitable.

With conviction, he lifted the cold, sticky heart and took a large bite of its flesh. The taste was as he expected, ghastly. Yet he continued to eat until his brown-skinned face was stained purple with blood.

At first, Adion watched with a disgusted look. After a few moments, he cursed sharply, picked up the remaining heart, and began to chomp down on it.

The two gagged as they struggled through the grotesque feast. When they finished, they stood staring at each other, out of breath. Adion rested his bloody hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“W-what now…” Adion huffed. “Aren’t we supposed to feel some sort of change—”

Before his friend could finish his sentence, Valorth felt it. A sharp pain on the left side of his chest. At first it merely made him clutch where it hurt, but after a few moments it became excruciating.

Valorth fell to his knees, groaning through gritted teeth, spittle flying from his mouth. He heard Adion rush over, shouting words hurriedly, but he could barely make out what he was saying.

It took hardly any time for the pain to become unbearable, and darkness overtook his vision. Valorth’s body lay splayed on the floor of his room, his heart no longer beating. Yet, after facing eternal darkness, he found he could open his eyes.

When he did, he was no longer in the servant chambers of the Uradesh Palace. Instead, he found himself hovering in an endless expanse of white clouds. Despite not possessing a body, Valorth could swivel his vision. It didn’t matter, though; no matter where he looked, he saw only a silent stretch of whiteness.

Where in the world am I?

As if on cue, the world around him began to change. The clouds dissolved, and his vision swam. For an instant, he felt a wave of distortion until the world bloomed with colour. Shapes came together, resolving into a throne room beneath his hovering gaze. A throne room neither luxurious nor familiar, nothing like the glamourous halls of Emperor Haide II in Uradesh.

Two figures appeared miraculously in the scene, both shadowed beyond recognition. One sat on the dull throne, resting an elbow casually on the armrest, while the other stood before him, taller than any human Valorth had ever seen. In the giant figure’s hand was a shadowed great sword, as tall as the figure itself.

Is this some sort of knight speaking to his king? That would explain the throne… but why am I seeing this? How is this connected to the heart I’ve eaten?

Valorth waited, as that was all he could do. Moments later, one of the figures broke the silence.

“Angel Armaneus,” the presumed knight said, presenting its giant weapon to the figure on the throne. “I do hope the Blade of Kacel is to your liking.”

As the words were spoken, Valorth suddenly felt an enormous pressure crash against his consciousness, as though an unseen force was trying to erase him from existence. If he relaxed for even a second, he truly believed he would cease to exist.

He turned his gaze away from the scene instantly and subconsciously blocked out the conversation. The shapes and colours around him faltered, and he felt himself slipping back into darkness.

Moments later, his consciousness returned to his body, and he shot upright, body drenched in sweat and lungs empty.

Adion grabbed his friend’s shoulders and looked deep into his eyes with worry.

“Valorth, calm down. You’re alive… We’ve both survived the process!”

The words calmed Valorth only slightly. It took a while for him to control his nerves and process his thoughts. Then he looked at his friend. Adion was unchanged in appearance, still the same pale-skinned, red-haired eighteen-year-old in servant’s clothing. But he was now a full-fledged Hearteater, with a first-vein demon heart beating alongside his human heart on the right side of his chest, marking him as a man at the start of his journey towards power.

A smug look spread across Adion’s face as he placed his hands on both sides of his chest, feeling the simultaneous beats.

“It’s crazy, Val. To think we’ve actually managed to become Hearteaters,” Adion said with a smile.

Valorth wished he could share his friend’s glee. His mind was still racing with a thousand thoughts, and something felt wrong with his body. Very wrong.

Trying not to alarm his friend, Valorth reached a hand to the right side of his chest to feel the beat of his newly formed demon heart.

Chills spread through his body.

There was nothing there.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he forced a smile and looked up at Adion, who still wore an expression of joy.

“You’re right, Adion. We’ve done it. We’ve become Hearteaters.”

After muttering the words, he reached his other hand to the left side of his chest. There he felt it.

The normal resting heart rate of a human was below a hundred beats per minute. Under his current circumstances, it would be natural for his heart to beat slightly faster. But what Valorth felt was a heart beating roughly four times per second, strong enough to send vibrations through his arm.

Valorth knew what this meant. He had read about it in scriptures and books. The process had not gone as smoothly for him as it had for his friend.

In other words, the demon heart had corrupted his own.