Curse

"Cursed?" he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue heavily, laden with a sense of dread. "What kind of curse? How did I get it?"

"Like I said, it's a long story. You'll find out eventually. Anyway, for now, check your right chest."

He raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

Despite his confusion, he complied with her request. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to his right chest, trying to understand what he was meant to find.

With a subtle movement, he pulled aside the fabric of his shirt slightly at the collar, revealing a glimpse of skin beneath.

On his chest skin, a strange scar was visible, a stark, unsettling contrast to his otherwise unblemished skin. 

It was shaped like a pentagram, an inverted star of five points, surrounded by an intricate script he'd never encountered. The letters were alien, unlike any language he knew, ancient and unsettling, etched into his flesh with unnerving precision. 

The scar itself looked like a deliberate knife incision, clean and precise, as if made by a steady, experienced hand. 

A chill ran down his spine.

"This... what is this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, his finger tracing the unsettling lines of the mark.

"That's the curse mark," the ring replied, its usually playful tone replaced by a grave seriousness that sent a fresh wave of unease through him. 

The implication hung heavy in the air, unspoken yet utterly terrifying.

He fell silent, his gaze fixed on the scar. 

The chilling reality of the mark settled upon him, a weight crushing his spirit.

Cursed. Memory lost. 

The two facts collided in his mind, a jarring impact that left him reeling. 

It was all too sudden, too much information to process in one go. 

His mind struggled to grasp the enormity of it all. 

The thought was absurd, yet the evidence before him – the strange mark, his vanished memories – pointed to a possibilities that must not be overlooked.

However, aside from the mystery of his memory loss, there was another thing that made the man ponder about the ring, which seemed to know a lot about him.

"How do you know all this about me?" he asked the ring, his voice cutting through the heavy silence that enveloped him.

The ring responded to the man's question with a brief answer, "I'm your artifact. I'm your companion. I know almost everything about you." 

Its tone sounded calm and confident.

Upon hearing that statement, a torrent of questions flooded Aziel's mind. 

The ring's claim to be his artifact, his companion, also triggered a wave of unsettling possibilities. 

What if that ring was actually the one erasing his memories?

Was it somehow connected to the strange mark he bore? Or was it something far more sinister, a manipulative entity masquerading as a helpful guide? 

The calmness of the ring's voice did little to alleviate his growing suspicion. 

However, it was undeniable that the ring held the key to his forgotten memories.

And then, the man began to think deeply.

If the ring claimed to know everything about him, couldn't it also just told him who he had been before? 

This thought ignited a flicker of hope within him, as he pondered whether the ring could unveil the mysteries surrounding his lost memories, memories that lay hidden in the dark corners of his mind.

"If you know everything about me, it means there's no problem if I lose my memory, right? You can just tell me who I am again." he ventured, his voice tinged with a mix of eagerness and longing. 

However, despite expressing his wish, a hint of unease remained in his thoughts, creating a cloud of uncertainty and wariness over his faith in the ring's assured claims.

"Not yet," the ring replied swiftly, its tone sharp and unyielding. "Do you see that the curse scar is still there? If I tell you about your past and restore your memories now, the curse will reactivate. We have to wait until the scar disappears."

It seemed that the ring was unwilling to respond to the man's request. 

The reason the ring provided for not revealing more about the man's past might be true, or it could simply be an excuse to withhold the truth of what transpired.

For the time being, the truth about what had happened to him remained uncertain, so he decided to wait and see for now.

The ring continued to speak, its voice steady and reassuring. "But, at least I can tell you your name. That's no problem."

"My name?" he inquired, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes.

Perhaps knowing his name would awaken some dormant part of his memory.

"Your name is Aziel."

As the name resonated in the air, Aziel felt an echo within himself. 

He sought to grasp any connection to the name that now lingered at the forefront of his consciousness. 

He repeated it softly within his heart, letting it roll off his tongue.

Aziel... Aziel... Aziel...

Yet, despite his efforts, nothing came. 

His mind remained an empty canvas, untouched by the brush of recollection. 

The name still felt foreign, lacking the warmth of familiarity that he so desperately craved.

But, amidst the bewildering circumstances, Aziel worked to keep his calm, taking a deep breath to soothe his racing mind.

He resolved to place his trust in the ring, at least for the moment. The ring might have spoken the truth about what had happened to him.

Or, it could be hiding something beneath its surface, a secret agenda waiting to unfold.

Whatever it is, right now, he did not wish to further burden his mind with worry.

Aziel then asked the ring, "Do... you have a name? A name I can use to call you?"

"Well, my official name, as one of the named artifact is The Whisperer Ring. But you can call me whatever you like."

Aziel examined the black ring on his finger.

Jet black, gleaming.

A name suddenly came to his mind.

"Blackie?" 

"Blackie?" The ring sounded unsure. "That name seems... inappropriate for me. It feels too masculine. Because my voice leans more towards the feminine side, I hope to have a name that fits a woman."

"But you're black," Aziel insisted. "Besides, Blackie is short and easy to say."

The ring protested again, "That name doesn't suit my magnificence as a superior artifact." 

"Didn't you say you were just a friendly neighborhood ring?" Aziel retorted, raising an eyebrow slightly.

The ring fell silent for a moment.

"Tsk, fine, fine. Blackie it is." Finally, the ring gave in. "As long as you're happy."

Aziel smiled at his small victory.

"Okay, now, what else do you want to ask?" Blackie asked, a hint of annoyance still remaining from the choice of its name.

Aziel fell silent, the weight of his predicament pressing down. 

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture almost unconscious. The sheer strangeness of his situation continued to unsettle him. 

Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "Where are we now?"

"We're in the Elysian Forest," Blackie replied, its voice returned to a smooth, even tone.

Elysian Forest. 

The name felt alien and unfamiliar, stirring a vague unease in Aziel. 

Nothing about Elysian Forest surfaced in his mind. 

"Can... you at least tell me how I got here?" Aziel pressed, his voice edged with a hint of desperation. "To this... Elysian Forest."

"Sorry, not yet," Blackie replied, a subtle hesitation in its usually confident tone. "If I tell you anything about your past now, I'm afraid the curse will reactivate. It's too risky."

Aziel nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. 

If there was too great a risk in knowing about it now, he wouldn't urge Blackie to explain it. 

Aziel posed another question.

"So, what should I do now?"

"Now?" Blackie paused, processing. "I suggest you find a place to settle down first. While waiting for the curse scar to disappear, you will need a place to live, so to speak. Surely, you wouldn't want to just sleep and search for food in this forest, right?"

Aziel took a moment to observe the lush forest scenery surrounding him.

"Where can I find a place to stay?" Aziel inquired of Blackie. "Do you know of any suitable places nearby?"

"Considering where you are now, the nearest human community is a village called Glenwood. You can go there, find a job, whatever. Live a temporary life. Blend in. In addition, interacting with the locals may provide you with current information about the world. It could serve as your starting point."

Aziel considered this, running a hand through his hair again. It made sense, a logical first step. 

He nodded decisively. 

"Okay, let's follow your suggestion. Oh, by the way, you know the way there, right? Don't tell me you don't know." A wry smile touched his lips.

"Don't worry, I know the way," Blackie reassured him, its tone unwavering. "Just follow the directions I give you."

"Alright." He stretched, a long, groaning stretch that popped his joints, trying to relieve the stiffness from lying down for so long. 

The muscles in his back and legs protested.

"How far is it to Glenwood?" Aziel asked, wanting to know the estimated travel time.

"It's quite a distance if you walk. It might take a few days. But again, don't worry, just follow the directions I give you. I'll show you the fastest route, avoiding any... unpleasant encounters," Blackie reassured him, the last phrase hinting at potential dangers lurking in the forest.

Aziel nodded, a new determination hardening his gaze. 

He began to walk towards the direction indicated by Blackie, his steps firm and purposeful, heading towards the distant village of Glenwood.