Edward POV
The forest near the Saber estate was thick with ancient silence—deep and heavy, like the world was holding its breath. I had no idea why I was walking into it, only that I had to.
"You're feeling it now, aren't you?" Astaroth's voice whispered in my mind. "Something calling to you… something old."
I didn't reply. The further I walked, the more the trees twisted inward, as though nature itself bent around the weight of whatever was buried here.
Eventually, I found it.
A forgotten clearing, overgrown and nearly swallowed by time. At its center stood the crumbling remains of a blackened altar, streaked with ash and veined with glowing cracks that pulsed faintly with heat.
A single object lay atop it: a ring, forged from obsidian-dark metal with veins of glowing red, like magma frozen mid-flow. At its center rested a gemstone the color of dying embers, flickering dimly despite the darkness.
I stepped closer.
"You've led me here for this?" I asked under my breath.
"I didn't lead you," Astaroth murmured. "The ring did."
I picked it up.
It was warm—too warm. The moment it touched my skin, pain flared up my arm, like fire had crawled into my blood. I nearly dropped it, but something stronger than instinct kept me holding on.
I slipped it onto my finger.
The fire didn't fade—it spread. I staggered back, gasping. My vision darkened for a moment, and I felt something push through me, as if the ring was testing every corner of my soul.
"You've awakened it."
My knees hit the ground.
I saw a vision—no, a memory. A city engulfed in flame. A man stood atop a mountain of burning stone, raising his hand as firestorm magic burst from his ring, incinerating thousands. Not a warrior. A king.
"The Ashen King," Astaroth's voice was grim now. "The last wielder of that ring. He burned three kingdoms to ash before anyone could stop him. The ring obeyed only him—and only because he gave it everything: mind, body, soul."
I looked at my hand. The ring was cold now. The gem dim.
But the world felt different.
The air no longer tasted like morning mist—it tasted like smoke.
Back at the Estate
I returned before dawn. My fingers still trembled, and every breath I took came with a faint heat I couldn't explain. I wrapped my hand in cloth and slipped into bed just as the first rays of light filtered in.
"You're lucky it didn't reject you completely," Astaroth said, calmer now. "That ring holds more destructive power than any living mage today. It doesn't just amplify fire—it creates it. From air. From nothing. From your rage."
I said nothing. I just stared at my hand.
A ring that once wiped out cities. A relic of death and conquest. And now it was bound to me?
Why?
"Because you touched the sword," Astaroth replied. "The moment your blood mingled with its sealed power, it sent a ripple through the magical foundations of this world. The old things… the forgotten things… began to stir."
Elsewhere…
Deep beneath a crumbled ruin in the eastern mountains, stone walls cracked. A faint hum awakened beneath the earth, like something ancient was breathing again. A second relic had sensed the first.
The world was no longer at peace.
Edward POV
I woke up with the weight of fire in my chest.
Whatever this ring was, it wasn't just a weapon. It was a legacy. A challenge. A threat.
And if I didn't learn to control it—
It would destroy me.