He ran his fingers lightly over the raised skin of the inverted pentagram. It felt old, yet strangely sensitive beneath his touch.
As his fingers traced the lines, he noticed something else – faint, intricate markings encircling the star. They looked like writing, but in a language he couldn't comprehend.
"What... what is this?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse. He directed the question towards the ring on his finger, the only source of answers he had right now. "This star on my chest?"
"Ah, that," the ring replied, its tone becoming a little more serious, losing some of the earlier lightness. "That, is what we call a cursed mark. It's the physical proof that you were, indeed, cursed. Think of it as the curse's signature, left behind on your body."
A cursed mark. The words echoed in the man's empty mind.
Memory loss was one thing, confusing enough on its own. But a curse? A mark of a curse etched onto his skin? It felt like something out of a dark fairy tale, not something that happened to... well, whoever he was.
He stared down at the black ring again. "You know about this... this curse. You know about my memory loss. You seem to know quite a lot about me, for a talking piece of jewelry." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "Who... or what, exactly, are you?"
"An excellent question!" the ring chirped, sounding pleased. "Think of me as your personal assistant, your portable encyclopedia, your incredibly sophisticated accessory. I am an artifact, bound to you. My purpose is to assist you, and yes, that includes having access to a vast amount of information, including nearly everything about you and your... previous circumstances."
An artifact? Bound to him? An assistant? It sounded both incredible and incredibly convenient.
A part of him screamed that this was insane, that he was probably hallucinating after bumping his head. But the ring felt solid on his finger, its voice clear in the quiet forest.
And the scar... the scar was undeniably real.
He chewed on his lower lip, weighing his options.
He had nothing. No memories, no identity, no idea where he was.
This talking ring, bizarre as it was, was his only connection to whatever life he had before waking up here.
Skepticism warred with desperation.
For now, he decided, he had little choice but to tentatively trust the ring. Wait and see, as it were.
"Alright," he said slowly, nodding to himself more than to the ring. "If you're my assistant, and you know pretty much everything... then you can tell me who I am, right?"
There was a distinct pause from the ring, a silence that felt heavier than the previous ones.
"Ah," it said finally, its voice losing all trace of humor. "About that... I'm afraid I can't."
The man frowned. "Can't? You just said you know everything."
"Knowing and telling are two different things, especially right now," the ring clarified. "Remember that cursed mark you just found? The pentagram? As long as that mark remains on your chest, your past is off-limits."
"But... why? You said the curse is gone because my memory is gone."
"Not entirely," the ring corrected him. "The trigger for the curse, the memories associated with it, they are gone. That's why you're not currently suffering its effects. But the curse itself, the magical imprint, it hasn't been fully eradicated. That mark is the proof. It signifies the lingering connection, however dormant. Revealing your past now, before the mark fades completely, could potentially reactivate the curse. And believe me, after all the trouble we went through, nobody wants that."
"So... I have to wait?" the man asked. "Wait for the scar to magically disappear before I can even know my own name?"
"Yes," the ring confirmed. "The mark will fade on its own, now that the active curse and its linked memories are suppressed. Only then will it be safe for you to learn about who you were."
The man tried to make sense of what the ring had explained.
"Ah," the ring chimed in. "As for your name, I can tell you that part. Your name is Aziel."
Aziel.
The man repeated it silently, then aloud. "Aziel."
He closed his eyes, concentrating hard, trying to dredge something, anything, from the depths of his blank memory. Did the name spark a picture? A feeling? A whisper of a forgotten life?
Nothing.
He opened his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips.
"Okay. So, I'm Aziel." He looked down at his hand, at the intricate black ring gleaming on his middle finger. "And you... do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you 'hey, talking ring'?"
There was a slight pause, perhaps the electronic equivalent of a chuckle.
"My designation, my proper title, is The Whisperer Ring," the ring stated. "Crafted by brilliant minds, imbued with knowledge, designed to assist. Quite a mouthful, I know."
"The Whisperer Ring," Aziel repeated. "Fancy. But yeah, a bit long for everyday use."
"Precisely," the ring agreed. "Which is why you can decide what you'd prefer to call me. Consider it one of your first executive decisions in your new, memory-free life. Thrilling, isn't it?"
Aziel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What did I call you before? Before the... memory wipe?"
"Before?" the ring echoed. "Hmm. You weren't particularly imaginative, I must say. You simply called me 'ring'."
"'Ring'?" Aziel wrinkled his nose. "Just... 'ring'? That's kind of boring."
He thought for a moment, tapping his chin. His gaze drifted over the ring's dark, glossy finish.
"How about... Blackie?" he suggested, a grin spreading across his face.
There was a distinct digital silence. If a ring could sound taken aback, this was it.
"...Blackie?" the ring repeated, its usually smooth, synthesized female voice sounding slightly flustered. "Are you... certain about that, Aziel?"
"Yeah! Blackie. It fits! You're, well, black," Aziel said, gesturing towards the ring. "Simple, catchy."
"While I appreciate the... directness," the ring began hesitantly, "I must admit, 'Blackie' wasn't quite what I anticipated. Given that my voice matrix is programmed with feminine tones, I was perhaps hoping for something... a touch more traditionally feminine?"
Aziel tilted his head, looking genuinely puzzled. "Blackie isn't feminine?"
"Well..." the ring said, sounding thoughtful. "Societal perceptions of names can vary greatly, of course. Different cultures, different contexts... But from my data banks and general analysis of common nomenclature in this region... 'Blackie' tends to lean more towards the masculine end of the spectrum. Or, perhaps, a name one might give to a pet."
"A pet?" Aziel blinked, then grinned wider. "Nah, you're way more useful than a pet. Besides, I like Blackie. It's settled." He held up his hand, admiring the dark ring against his skin. "Suits you."
"But Aziel," Blackie protested, its voice sounding almost pleading. "Given my vast capabilities, my access to millennia of knowledge, my sophisticated processing power... doesn't 'Blackie' feel a trifle... inadequate? Perhaps something like 'Oracle'? Or 'Sage'? Or even 'Whisper', referencing my original designation?"
"Nope," Aziel replied cheerfully, popping the 'p'. "Too stuffy. Blackie it is. Come on, it's friendly!"
"Friendly," Blackie repeated flatly. "Friendliness wasn't my primary design specification."
"Well, maybe it should have been," Aziel countered. "Look, you're stuck with me, and I'm stuck with you. Might as well have a name I like saying. Blackie." He poked the ring gently. "Deal with it, Blackie."
There was another pause, longer this time.
Aziel could almost picture tiny digital gears grinding in frustration inside the obsidian band.
Finally, the ring spoke again, its tone resigned.
"Very well, Aziel. If you insist. Henceforth, you may refer to me as... Blackie."
Aziel beamed, feeling a ridiculous sense of accomplishment. "Great! Glad we got that sorted, Blackie."
He pushed himself up from the base of the tree, brushing dirt and leaves off his simple trousers.
The forest air was cool and damp, filled with the scent of moss and earth. Sunlight filtered down through the thick canopy in dappled patterns.
"Okay, Blackie," Aziel said, stretching his arms above his head. "Now that we're properly introduced, where exactly are we?"
"We are currently located within the boundaries of the Elysian Forest," Blackie replied promptly, its voice back to its usual, emotionless efficiency.
Aziel almost missed the hint of frustration from moments ago.
"Elysian Forest," Aziel echoed, looking around at the towering trees and dense undergrowth.
It sounded peaceful, but he had a feeling peaceful forests could still be dangerous places. "Right. And you said you're my assistant, yeah?"
"That is correct. My function is to provide information, analysis, and support."
"Perfect," Aziel clapped his hands together. "So, Assistant Blackie, what's the plan? What am I supposed to do now? Just hang out in this forest until my super-secret curse mark fades?" He gestured vaguely towards his chest.
"That would be suboptimal," Blackie stated. "Waiting idly in an unfamiliar wilderness carries unnecessary risks. Exposure, lack of resources, potential encounters with unfriendly local fauna..."
"Okay, got any suggestions, oh wise assistant?"
"Based on my geographical data and your current situation, the most logical immediate objective is to seek shelter and resources in the nearest human settlement," Blackie explained. "Around twelve kilometers southeast of our current position lies a village named Glenwood. It is fortified and possesses basic amenities. It would be a suitable place to reside temporarily while we await the dissipation of the cursed mark and assess our next steps."
Aziel considered this.
A village. Glenwood. It sounded reasonable. Staying put, integrating somewhere for a while – it felt like a solid plan.
"Glenwood," Aziel nodded slowly. "Okay, I like it. Sounds like a plan. We head to Glenwood."
He looked towards the southeast, though he had no real sense of direction. "So... you know how to get there, Blackie?"
"Yes," Blackie replied. "I can provide precise navigational guidance. Proceed approximately thirty degrees southeast from our current position. I will guide you."
"Alright then," Aziel said, taking a determined breath. "Lead the way, Blackie."
He started walking, pushing aside low-hanging branches.
The quiet hum of the forest surrounded him as he took his first steps towards the unknown village of Glenwood.