Aria reverses her car into the narrow lean-to her father built many years ago. The small shack that doubles as her home feels more welcoming than she can ever remember. The visions of her younger self in the kindergarten still loom large in her mind as she climbs out of the car and makes her way to the front door.

She pulls down the keypad cover and enters the four digits that secure her home from the rest of the wasteland. Darkness engulfs her for the briefest of moments before she finds the light switch. The front door slides closed behind her and automatically locked itself.

Aria heads straight for the bottle of whiskey sitting on the small circular table in the center of the living room. She grabs the bottle and takes a swig, gasping as the liquid burns its way down to her stomach. The mystical symbols now tattooed permanently around her wrists haven’t stopped glowing and throbbing since she picked up the Sinner’s Heart.

Hand slightly trembling, she reaches into the pocket where the artifact is stored and pulls it out for further inspection. There really isn’t much to see. It’s a simple gold heart with three lightning bolts striking its center on a simple gold chain. How it came to take this form and what its original one may have looked like were both lost on Aria. The inner workings of Hell and the souls in it were still a mystery to her for the most part.

‘I see you found it,’ comes a male voice from behind Aria.

She spins around to see Myrle standing before her. His robe engulfing him in an eternal darkness that she may never be able to see through.

‘Will you people please stop fucking sneaking up on me!?’ Cries Aria, her heart pounding a little faster than she would like.

The monk bows his head in respect.

‘I do apologize, but it's important that I arrive here quickly and be gone just the same,’ says the monk, his hood dipping as he looks down at the artifact in the girl's hand.

‘Why did you bring this back into this world, the con man told me it was you he got it from,’ says Aria, holding out the artifact.

Myrle makes no move to touch the artifact.

‘Because I know that our master wants to find all the artifacts, but I needed you to find it first,’ he says.

‘Why me? If they are his artifacts then why not let him have them? And another thing, he had no clue that i had it in my pocket. Why is that?’ Says Aria, taking another swig of whiskey.

‘They are not his artifacts,’ the monks' voice changes to a deep, almost guttural tone. ‘If they were he would be able to see and feel them in the same manner you can.’

Aria can sense a hint of anger in Myrle’s voice and decides to take a small step back for her own safety. Although it was more likely that he could destroy her with a click of his fingers if he wanted to.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

‘Who do they belong to then?’ She asks.

‘They belong to you. You are the only one capable of sensing them and using them,’ says the monk.

Disbelief clouds the girl's face. Why would eon’s old artifacts suddenly belong to her? That doesn’t make sense.

‘I don’t get this. Two days ago my father sent me on a job that could have made us good money and kept us alive for a long time. Instead, he ends up in Hell and I end making a deal with the devil to try and save him some suffering. And now to add to that, you’re telling me that these ancient relics somehow belong to me. You can see why I’m struggling with all of this, can’t you?’

Myrle takes a step closer and reaches out with a gloved hand.

A tear trickles down Aria’s face as she places the Sinner’s Heart into his waiting palm.

‘I understand how confusing this all seems right now. But you must trust me when I tell you that everything you have experienced so far is for a reason. You have a much greater role to play than you think and it's important that me and my brothers make sure you are strong enough to fill that role,’ explains the monk, motioning for her to come closer to him.

Trembling with emotion, Aria steps forward. Tears are free-flowing down her face now, but she doesn’t cry out or sob. She has too much pride to allow that to happen.

‘You make it sound like I’m something special. Which is nice in its own way, but I’m the kind of girl who fully accepts just how awful this life can be, so you don’t have to sugarcoat anything,’ she says, wiping her tears away.

‘You are more special than you realize. Now stay still. When the energy of this artifact imbues with your own lifeforce you will be able to see and feel the emotions of others,’ explains Myrle and then he begins to chant in a language that Aria doesn’t understand.

She expects the same level of pain she went through when the golden bullet was saturated into her own body, but this time something different happens.

Myrle presses the artifact against the top part of the girl's chest and chants a few more words before stopping. Aria looks down and can feel a slither of coldness pierce her skin as the artifact melts and absorbs into her body. There is little pain this time except for the dull throb now coming from her chest. When she pulls her shirt out far enough to get a good look she can see that there is now a heart connected by a chain tattooed to her chest.

‘That wasn’t as bad as I was expecting,’ she says, letting go of her shirt.

Myrle steps back and opens his arms.

Aria can see a spinning ball of blue light around the same place his heart should be.

‘What do you see?’ He asks and Aria tells him, although she doesn’t understand the meaning of it. ‘Blue is for honest. Red is dishonesty and anger. Green is for love and affection.’

‘So I really can trust you?’ Says Aria.

‘Yes. You should try and rest now. I have something of importance that I must take care of,’ says the monk.

‘Will you ever tell me why this is happening to me?’

A black cloud of smoke begins to form around the monk. He nods his head solemnly

‘Yes. I promise I will. You must know the truth. But before that happens there is something I have to do. Rest now.’

Aria watches as the smoke engulfs Myrle and then fades away like it was just a figment of her imagination. She takes one more mouthful of whiskey before setting the bottle down on the table again.

She knows the monk is right about one thing: She does need some sleep.