"Stories Told Us by Spirits: The Knight with Harrowed Hands," Kenabres Medium Alliance Publishing

Item · 65 gp · Weight 2

"The demon puts two plates on the table in front of me. On each, a bleeding human heart. 'Look,' he says. 'The right one belongs to a noble and righteous man, a loyal servant of Iomedae. The left one is the heart of a murderer and a scoundrel. But something tells me they taste exactly the same.' I remain silent and don't move. I couldn't if I tried. One of my hands is pinned to the wide armrest, with a knife thrust to the hilt. The other similarly pinned helpless on the table. The demon circles and carefully brushes away a strand of hair that's stuck to my forehead. 'Your silence saddens me.' 'Don't waste your time on this performance, monster,' I say, though I have scarcely the energy to breathe. 'If you wish to torture me, go ahead. If you want to kill me, then kill me. My life is in your hands. But my soul is not, and never will be.' The hearts on the plates in front of me continue oozing blood. They've only just been ripped from their owners' bodies. The right one, apparently, belonged to my partner; the left, to the criminal we were escorting. But the demon, who'd set his lair in the old mill, killed without discrimination. He walks around the armchair, and stops behind my back, placing a clawed hand on my shoulder. 'This is not a performance at all. It's a feast, and I will be sated. No, not with this.' He can see my eyes still on the hearts. 'With you. It's your heart that's in front of me right now. So helpless...' The claws on my shoulder tighten a bit. Goddess, help me endure. After a moment, the demon continues. 'You know what you don't understand, you zealous servants of law and good?' He seems to like the sound of his own voice. 'It was you who brought us to your land. The more of you who gather here, at the edge of the Worldwound — so brave, burning with righteous wrath — the more like me will come from the Abyss. It's not because we want to win a war and conquer your world. Perhaps our lords want this, but trust me, they are as far removed from their subjects as your lords and kings are from you. No, we come for those like you. For the persistent and the proud, who won't break until the end. For those whose suffering is sweet and lasts and lasts. For the sweets.' He appears in front of me again, licking his lips. I well know that he'll never grant me a quick death."