The Heart of the Traitor

The Altar of Ash was illuminated by black candles. The jar with the tongue and the jar with the eyes sat on the stone slab.

Elian stood before them. He held a dagger.

"Where is the Baron?" Elian asked. "You said we would finish it tonight."

Malphas sat on the edge of the altar, swinging his legs like a child. "I never said it was the Baron."

The demon hopped down. He walked a slow circle around Elian.

"The Traitor," Malphas mused. "Someone who betrayed his blood. Someone who betrayed his vows. Someone who betrayed his own nature to serve a lie."

Elian froze. The cold seeped back into his bones.

"Me," Elian whispered.

"You," Malphas confirmed. "You betrayed your sister to the Church. You betrayed the Church by summoning me. You betrayed your humanity by enjoying the harvest."

Malphas stopped in front of him. He tapped Elian’s chest, right over the heart.

"This is the final ingredient, little saint. A heart heavy with so much sin it could sink a ship."

Elian raised the dagger. "You want me to kill myself?"

"I want you to kill the Inquisitor," Malphas said. "I want you to kill the man who feels guilty. I want you to cut out the part of you that still cares about 'right' and 'wrong'."

Malphas reached out and took the dagger from Elian’s hand. He reversed it, pressing the hilt into Elian’s palm, pointing the blade at Elian’s chest.

"I can’t give you Absolution, Elian. No one can. But I can give you Evolution."

Malphas stepped in close, his body pressing against Elian’s.

"Give me your heart. Not the organ beating in your chest—I have no use for meat. Give me the *metaphor*. Surrender. Stop fighting the monster in the mirror and just... be him."

Elian looked at the demon. He looked at the beautiful, terrible creature that had been the only one to touch him with kindness in five years.

"If I do this," Elian whispered, "will the sister stop screaming?"

"Yes," Malphas promised. "Because you won't care that she’s screaming anymore."

Elian thought of the cold. He thought of the hunger. He thought of the endless, grinding misery of trying to be good in a world that was fundamentally bad.

He dropped the dagger.

"Take it," Elian said.