Outside, Raka crouches by the cracked remains of the Bushmen nest chest, her tail wagging slowly as sunlight gleams across her freshly brushed fur.
The contents spill out like something from a storybook:
A heap of silver and copper coins, scattered like autumn leaves.
A gleaming steel shield, its surface etched with a radiant starburst sigil—practically humming with defensive magic.
And in her palm—
A blackened silver ring, twisted in thorned coils, the gem at its center glinting like frozen blood.
Raka looks up as Kit and I step out, her grin all teeth. “Found our payday… a shield made for me, and maybe a problem,” she rumbles, holding the ring up.
Kit’s eyes narrow instantly, the last of her playful mood draining away. “That thing smells wrong,” she mutters, her hand brushing her dagger hilt.
The bond hums faintly between us—all of us wary.
I have them break camp while I kneel beside the spread of loot, letting the rhythm of routine steady my thoughts.
Detect Magic
Both items flare immediately—no surprise there.
I rest a hand on the shield first, tracing the polished face as the starburst sigil flickers under my vision—radiant, clean, solid.
Identify
The HUD snaps into place:
[Item — Starburst Shield]
[Rarity — Rare Tier 1]
Enhanced magical defense and durability.
[Ability — Star Burst]
Emits a blinding flash. Enemies must shield or be blinded.
Mana cost scales with output.
Yeah. That’s a frontline weapon.
“Perfect for you, Raka,” I say, glancing up as she tears down the tent poles like they insulted her personally. “You’ll shine even brighter out there. Moonlight and starlight.”
Her ears perk, tail swishing. “A shield that blinds and blocks? Hah! No more thorn-spitting weeds catching me off guard.” She flashes a grin, fangs catching the light.
Then—my attention shifts back to the ring.
The metal is wrong.
Too smooth. Too cold.
The thorned design seems to twist if I look too long, like it’s not meant to sit still under sunlight. The gem pulses faintly.
I cast Identify again.
The runes flare—
—and then stall.
Whatever magic sits inside this thing… it doesn’t want to be seen.
Kit steps closer, ears twitching. “That thing smells… wrong,” she repeats, quieter now. “What does it do?”
Raka looms behind me, her new shield catching light at her side. “Looks strong,” she says. “But you’re making that face, Master. The one that means trouble.”
The bond thrums—a cocktail of curiosity, wariness, and a trace of temptation from both girls.
The fire crackles low as I sit cross-legged on a bedroll, the ring of blackened silver perched in my palm like a serpent coiled for a strike. Its thorned design catches the muted light of morning in a way that feels almost hungry.
Identify ripples over it again, but this time… the truth hides deeper, shielded by ancient wards. Only a single fragment slips through—a command word etched into the weave of its magic:
“Sanguis.”
I exhale slowly. “That’s… not great.”
Kit crouches beside me, pulling her cloak tighter against the morning air. “You’re telling me a ring that smells like a graveyard answers back when you poke it?”
“I’m telling you,” I say, rolling it between my fingers, feeling a faint pulse that almost matches my heartbeat, “that all I got was a word. Everything else is locked down tight.”
I look at it.
Then at them.
“Only one way to know what it does. Someone puts it on. And speaks the word.”
Raka huffs, gnawing on a chunk of hard bread before setting it aside. Her ears angle back slightly. “Sounds like bad spirits to me. Cursed things don’t share until they’re chewing on your bones.”
She leans forward, silver fur shifting over muscle. “Question is—do we risk that?”
Kit’s tail lashes once, betraying nerves she doesn’t voice. “What if it’s something good?” she says. “Or something really bad?” Her gaze sharpens on me. “What’s your gut say, Master?”
I don’t answer right away.
I just stare at the ring, listening to the forest—the hush of wind through the trees, the rustle of leaves shifting somewhere beyond sight.
I could walk away.
Throw it into a river.
Forget it ever existed.
But power that hides itself…?
That kind of power is never meaningless.
Breakfast ends quietly, tension settling in where conversation doesn’t.
The ring sits between us—
like a loaded die no one’s rolled yet.
“We need to know… stand ready, girls.”
The ring slides onto my finger like molten shadow—snug, warm in a way that shouldn’t feel right. A whisper curls through my mind as my lips shape the word.
“Sanguis.”
The world shivers.
The forest floor heaves as roots split and soil boils upward in a spiraling surge of thorns and petals. Vines coil, dragging bone from the earth and snapping it into place with wet, splintering cracks. Roses bloom—blood-red—along a lattice of blackened vines, their beauty cruel against the skeletal frame they cling to, until finally—
it stands.
Six feet of vine-bound death. A ribcage of briars pulsing with a dull crimson glow. Claws hooked and jagged, grown from thorn and bone alike. Where eyes should be, roses burn like embers inside a skull of twisting roots, and the air fills with the scent of crushed flowers and old blood.
Kit takes three sharp steps back, daggers whispering free. “What. The actual. Abyss.” Raka’s ears flatten as her grip tightens on her axe until the leather creaks. “That’s not a bushman. That’s not even… natural.”
My HUD flares alive in my vision.
[Summon Registered]
Name: ED
Type: Thorn Revenant
Rank: Rare
Bond: Linked to Ring of Sanguis
Status: Loyal / Controlled
Special: *Thornlash*
Current HP: ██████████
Resummon: 24 hours if destroyed
I look up slowly as the towering thing tilts its thorn-crowned head toward me—silent, waiting.
“…Ed?” I say, half-joking, half-hoping.
It doesn’t move—just vines rustling like whispers in a grave.
Kit’s voice jumps, incredulous. “You—you named it Ed?!”
I grin despite the adrenaline still humming through my veins. “Seems… friendly enough.”
Raka lets out a low growl, tail lashing behind her. “Friendly? That thing looks like death wearing a garden.”
The forest is silent.
“Ed?” Kit blurts, incredulous again.
I blink. “That’s his name. Look.” I tilt the HUD toward her, even though she can’t read it.
Kit’s nose wrinkles. “…Ed. Sure. Why not. He looks like a corpse florist.”
The skeleton tilts its head toward her with a soft creak. A single rose slips free from its crown and drops to the forest floor.
Raka growls low. “It smells like blood and springtime.” Her silver ears twitch. “Can we trust it?”
Ed doesn’t move.
It just stands there—perfectly still, head bowed slightly toward me.
Waiting.
The silence stretches, broken only by the crackle of the campfire.
Kit crosses her arms, tail flicking in agitation. “Okay, I’ll say it—this is as creepy as the Nine Hells. And—” she gestures at it with her dagger, “—it sheds roses. Like, why?!”
Raka grunts, crouched low like she’s watching a rival predator. “It’s unnatural,” she rumbles, claws flexing against the dirt. “But… if it fights for you, then it’s useful.” Her gaze cuts to me, sharp and steady. “Can it fight?”
I open my mouth—then stop.
On impulse, I look at it instead.
“Can you fight?”
The thing tilts its thorn-crowned skull toward me with slow, deliberate precision. Its jaw unhinges, and in a voice like dry petals scraping over bone, it whispers—
“…Ed.”
The camp goes still.
Kit’s ears snap upright. “…Excuse me?”
It turns its hollow, rose-lit sockets toward her… then back to me.
“Ed.”
I swallow. “Your… name. Ed?”
The skull dips once—almost human.
Kit just stares. “Did it just—?!” She whirls on me. “Okay. Nope. Nope. It talks. I hate that it talks!”
Raka leans in closer, nostrils flaring as she studies it. “It only speaks to him…” She bares a fang, voice dropping. “That makes it worse.”
I glance between them—then back to it.
“Ed…” I say carefully. “Will you obey me?”
Its voice crawls out like vines through cracks—
“…Always.”
Kit shudders, full-body. “I’m sleeping with both eyes open from now on.”
The campfire pops, sending a spray of embers into the air. The three of us sit in a loose circle, Ed motionless in the shadows, roses curling lazily from the cracks in his vine-twisted bones.
Kit jabs a finger toward him, tail lashing. “We can’t bring that with us. Look at him! He’s like… death’s flower arrangement!”
Raka growls low, crouched on her haunches. “It is strange, yes. Though…” Her gold eyes flick to me. “If it fights well, it stays. We need every edge we can get.”
Kit throws up her hands. “Every edge?! He doesn’t even have eyes, Raka!”
I raise a hand before it devolves. “Look… he’s not attacking us. He’s… waiting.” My gaze drifts back to the skeletal figure. “Silent. Patient. That’s not random. He’s a summon. Loyal.”
Kit scoffs. “Loyal?! How do you know that?”
I don’t answer right away.
Instead, I ask, quiet and careful, “Ed… why do you fight for me?”
The forest hushes.
Slowly, its thorn-crowned head turns toward me. Its jaw creaks open, and from within, a voice leaks out—fragile as petals breaking underfoot.
“…Love.”
The word coils through the night like smoke.
Kit freezes mid-retort. “…What?”
Ed doesn’t move. Just stands there, a bouquet of roses shedding softly from the gaps in its ribcage.
Raka’s ears angle forward, hackles lifting.
Its skull tilts slightly, something faint and eternal flickering in those hollow sockets. When it speaks again, the whisper is softer—but unmistakable.
“…Love.”
Kit’s tail puffs out like a bottlebrush. “Oh, great. Creepy and romantic. That’s… worse. That’s so much worse.”