The Whisper of the God of Love (Part 2)

“Elka… have you been… corrupted by an Evil God?” Anne asked, her voice trembling, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.

An “Evil God” was the source of most of the chaos and distortion in this world, a symbol of pure, unadulterated depravity and destruction. Like a shadow cast by the sun, they were rarely seen by ordinary people, yet they clung to the edges of the world like parasites, forever coveting its beauty. Like gluttonous, ravenous beasts, they craved a feast of blood and desire. If they could just get a hold of a single, tiny thread of depravity, they would extend their tendrils without hesitation, corrupting and consuming everything they touched.

This was why the Evil Gods were often so generous, why one could so easily trade blood and flesh for their terrible power. But the smaller the price paid upfront, the greater the debt owed. And when that debt accumulated to a point where you could no longer pay, your entire being, your very soul, would become a mere plaything in the hands of the god.

Every gift has its price.

“An Evil God?”

Faced with Anne’s question, a look of genuine, almost childish displeasure crossed Elka’s face. “Master, how could you say such a thing about the great god? He has been so good to me. To fulfill my wish of loving everyone, he has generously, selflessly granted me the power to make that wish come true!”

“Without… a price?”

Anne’s breath caught in her throat. If no price was paid when the power was granted, then what, in the name of the heavens, would be demanded when the god came to collect its debt?

One’s very soul?

“Hey, Master. You still haven’t answered my question.”

Elka smiled, a sweet, innocent smile, and held out her hands, opening her arms as if to embrace her beloved master.

“Will you… accept my love?”

“…” Silence. A silence as thick, as heavy, and as suffocating as blood.

Elka said no more, simply waiting for Anne’s answer, her smile never wavering. The room was so quiet that not even the sound of a single, terrified breath could be heard.

Anne’s gaze was fixed on the floor, her hands habitually folded at her waist. But from her knuckles, which were clenched so tightly they had turned a stark, bloodless white, one could see the violent, chaotic turmoil in her heart.

She was hesitating. Or perhaps, she was thinking.

An eternity seemed to pass in that single, terrible moment.

Just as a flicker of raw, petulant impatience appeared on Elka’s face, Anne finally moved, stepping through the pool of blood, toward her.

“Have you agreed, Master?!”

A blissful, radiant smile spread across Elka’s face. Like a butterfly flitting toward a beautiful, deadly flower, she eagerly, joyfully threw herself at Anne.

“Let us be together forever, Master! I will always, always… love you—”

Her joyful cry was cut short, choked off in her throat.

A look of pure, uncomprehending confusion flashed in Elka’s eyes. She stiffly, mechanically, lowered her head.

A cold, sharp blade was clutched in Anne’s hand.

And it was plunged, unerringly, and with a brutal finality, into Elka’s heart.

Anne’s hand was still trembling, but she forced herself to push, and then push harder, and then, with a vicious, hateful twist, she churned the blade.

Until the very source of a person’s life, the warm, beating heart, was completely and utterly destroyed.

“Cough, cough… why… Master?”

Elka coughed up a bloody, mangled piece of her own internal organs, her eyes full of a childlike bewilderment.

“Do you… not want to accept my love?”

“I’m sorry…”

Anne looked up, her usually strong, unyielding eyes now red-rimmed with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry… Elka. I can’t let you hurt anyone else.”

“Cough, cough… what are you talking about, Master?” Elka tilted her head, a look of genuine, innocent confusion on her face. “I haven’t hurt anyone.”

“I am just giving them my love.”

“I love them, Master. What is so wrong with love?”

“Shut up—”

Anne suddenly lost control, her voice a furious, grief-stricken roar. “That is not love!”

“Not love? Then what is it? This is love! To possess everything about the one you love! Isn’t that what you taught me, Master?!”

Elka’s eyes widened. She began to walk toward Anne, step by agonizing step, forcing her back. The fact that her heart had been utterly destroyed seemed to have no effect on her at all. She continued to cough up blood and flesh, yet her expression was as innocent and curious as a child’s as she asked, her eyes wide with a terrible, earnest light.

“If it’s not love, then tell me, Master! What is true love?!”

“Tell me, Master! Aren’t you my master?”

“What is love? What is its nature? How can I give you my true love?”

“I…”

Anne’s lips moved, but no words came out.

What is love?

Is it really possession?

This was a belief she had once held with an unshakeable, fanatical conviction. But now, facing Elka, facing this monstrous, twisted reflection of her own philosophy, she couldn’t even find the courage to say it aloud.

Thump.

Anne’s retreat was cut short as her back hit a cold, hard surface. Unconsciously, she had backed herself into a corner.

“Ah…”

Suddenly, something cold and clammy grabbed the hem of her dress.

She instinctively looked back and saw the disemboweled young woman on the iron bed, her withered, skeletal hand clutching at her skirt.

She was crying, and she was saying, “I love you…”

So full of devotion… and so utterly, terrifyingly, soul-crushingly horrifying.

“No…”

No. No.

This is not love.

This is absolutely not love.

The love that I know, the love that I feel, could never be something so ugly, so monstrous.

Something has gone wrong. Something has gone terribly, horribly wrong.

Anne gritted her teeth and violently tore her dress free from the woman’s grasp, scrambling away in a blind panic.

“Don’t run away, Master.”

Elka suddenly lunged at her, her movements far too agile, too predatory for a mere mage. She tackled Anne to the ground, pinning her firmly, a strange, feverish blush on her cute, innocent face.

“Please, answer my question.”

From within her open shirt, the dark, leathery face writhed, its expression twisted in a mask of pure agony as it glared at Anne with a venomous, all-consuming hatred.

And all the while, it called out, its voice a chorus of the damned, “I love you…”

“I love you…”

“Stop it…”

Anne struggled violently, trying to throw Elka off. But the calls of “love” were like maggots boring into her bones, into her very soul. No matter what she did, she couldn’t shake them off. They were like insects, tearing at her sanity, shredding it to pieces.

“I love you…”

“Please… stop it.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”

“Stop it…”

“I love you, love you, love you… I love you, Master.”

“BE QUIET!”

Anne squeezed her eyes shut in agony.

As if by pure, primal instinct, a sharp, merciless blade condensed in her hand.

A slash. And another.

The wet, tearing sound of flesh being rent asunder echoed in the room. Hot, sticky blood sprayed everywhere, mixing with the cold, foul-smelling liquid that already covered the floor. The crushing pressure on her body was suddenly gone.

“Hah… hah…”

Anne opened her eyes and stared at the blood-spattered ceiling. Though she had barely moved, she was gasping for breath, as if she had just survived a life-or-death battle for her very soul.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

She got to her feet and bowed her head to the now-dismembered, and finally silent, Elka.

“I had to do it.”

Even though her heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a giant, iron hand, even though her soul was about to drown in a sea of guilt, what remained of her sanity told her that she had to kill Elka. If she allowed the Evil God’s corruption to spread, there was no telling what other terrible, monstrous consequences would follow.

“I will cremate you properly,” she whispered, “and bury you with the one you love.”

Anne stumbled toward the door, intending to go to the kitchen to find something to start a fire.

“Ah, I know now!”

But she had only taken a few steps when a voice, full of a sudden, joyful, and utterly insane realization, cried out from behind her.

Her heart stopped.

“Wh… what?”

Anne’s teeth began to chatter as she slowly, mechanically, turned her head.

And then she saw it—

Elka’s severed head, a look of pure, blissful, and terrifying enlightenment on its face.

“I understand now,” it said, its eyes sparkling with a new, terrible light. “This is your love too, isn’t it, Master?”