I stood on one leg. One of Grek’s punishers, the one named Whily, repositioned my metal shoe. No, it wasn’t called a shoe. For some odd reason, everyone around me kept calling it a sabaton. When I asked about it, I got a long lecture about sabatons, greaves, poleyns, cuisses, and that’s where my mind blanked out.

  But it didn’t matter to the punishers. They started having a heated discussion about sabatons and sollerets. Those were the pointy kind of metal shoes. Honestly, what was wrong with people? Couldn’t they just call them shoes and move on?

  Not that I could tell them that. Ilya kept a close eye on me and every time my mouth was empty she made sure that I stuffed it with mana-enriched dried food. Nuts, raisins, and jerky kept me chewing. As Ilya repeatedly told me, after drinking a healing potion, a manaborn like me needed both nutrition and enough foodstuffs to get me back to a hundred percent.

  I was seriously getting tired of food, so I looked inwards at my soul. My essence levels had stabilized at twenty percent. They were slowly rising and they would do so normally now, but twenty was barely enough for me to recreate my dagger thrice. I was beginning to understand that I had to rely on mana if I had to fight in this world.

  And that is where this armor came in. Ilya was not going to let me even walk out of sight without adequate protection anymore. That meant I had to wear this shell that protected my feet, my shins, my thighs, and worked up to my midsection, chest, forearms, and yes, my shoulders. Which were getting tied on by Grek right now.

  “Your Grace, we have company coming in,” Stone, the female punisher, announced from the large door to the ballroom.

  “Let them come. I really need to kill something,” Ilya stated, stopping all the conversation.

  “Sister?” I asked.

  “Not now, Voss.” Ilya slashed the air and nodded. “We will speak when I am calmer.”

  “There are six of them, Your Grace. All specters.” Stone stepped away from the large doors with a hand on the hilt of her sword.

  Ilya gave me a critical look and frowned. “There is something missing from the set. What is missing?”

  “The kilt, Your Grace,” Grek replied, pointing at my waist.

  Ilya wordlessly made a kilt appear from somewhere and threw it at Grek.

  Grek caught it and recoiled. He held it away from himself and approached me with a folded piece of leather. “Your Highness, please put this on yourself.”

  I looked at the piece of leather questioningly and looked at Grek.

  “It’s leather soaked in death and blood. I… I don’t feel comfortable touching it.”

  I gave Ilya a look.

  Ilya scoffed. “Don’t look at me like that. This whole set belonged to a lich’s apprentice. I killed him and my people took it off his body. We repaired and restored it to display in my castle. The only thing new on the armor is the golden ornamentation.” Ilya narrowed her eyes. “And why am I explaining myself to you? You eat spirits.”

  I frowned but in a calm tone tried to explain, “I don’t eat spirits. I consume their essence. There is a difference.”

  “Your Grace!?” There was panic in Stone's voice as she backpedaled towards us.

  “Put it on. I am going to kill plenty of specters. I will let you eat them if you are nice and do as I say.” Ilya gave Grek a stern look. “Keep my brother out of danger. And stay out of my way.”

  Grek gulped and nodded rapidly. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Ilya whirled and with a loud gust of wind shot towards the door, leaving us all behind.

  I sighed and began to take measured steps. The armor on my body was heavy. And the metal boots, the sabatons, were slippery on the polished stone floor. And I could barely move. I didn’t understand how anyone could fight in this awful shell.

  Still, I wasn’t going to let Ilya fight on her own. No matter how powerful she thought she was, she couldn’t take on soul fire on her own. So, I unfolded the leather skirt and began to put it around my waist.

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  It was a strange, velvety smooth fabric. As I unfolded it, it rippled and pulled on my mana. It flew onto my waist and my hands moved with practiced ease. It was like I had done this thousands of times before. I knew every notch, every fold, and every leather hoop. And where my fingers missed a mark, the kilt moved on its own. And in one stop, it even tied the strap around my leg hidden from outside.

  The kilt suddenly flared outwards. It ripped and tore from the bottom creating dozens of knife-shaped flaps that blew in an unfelt wind. Then I felt a tug and stopped. Suddenly with bone-chilling speed the armor pulled on my mana and drank deeply from me. The shining black lacquer flaked off, dulling to a dull black. The golden ornamentation began to gleam in an unseen light. With pings and clunks, the armor began to conform to my body.

  Before I knew it I had dropped to a knee. The armor kept tightening at spots and loosening at other places. The kilt danced and laughed. It reached up. One of its flaps scratched my inner thigh. I looked down to see a paper-thin cut. It swiped the blood and drank from my wound. The flaps shivered in pleasure.

  Finally, the flaps settled and the armor lightened on my shoulders. I took in a breath and looked down at the strange new armor on my body. It was mine. No, that wasn’t a figure of speech. It was truly mine and I was its. I knew it in my heart and soul.

  Whily tried to step closer to me with concern. The flaps flared threateningly and he shuffled back rapidly.

  “What in the stars?” The punisher asked.

  “Stand back, Whily.” Grek waved the other punisher away. “That is not normal armor. It is…”

  Grek gulped and looked at me. “Your Highness, has it bonded with you?”

  Bonded. As the thought came to me the leather flaps danced and laughed at the newfound freedom. I smiled down at the flaps. With a rustle, they laughed a laugh only I could hear.

  “I think so?” I answered and looked up at Grek. “What is this?”

  “Blight and curses!” Grek cursed. “How did we not think of this?”

  “Did Her Grace know?” Whily asked.

  “Do you think if she knew, she would have given this set to her brother?” Grek shot back.

  “Mouth?” I stopped the conversation while standing back up.

  It was easy to move in it now. I could even dance in this armor now. The flaps began to dance on my waist at my errant thought.

  “Your Highness, that armor hid its true nature until it found its new owner. We thought it was just attuned to death mana but…”

  “It is a death bonded.” Whily almost shouted.

  “I don’t know what that means.” I held up a finger. “Wait. I need more mana. The armor drank mine.”

  Grek spat to the side and cursed. “Blighted lands and oceans.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Mouth. Curse later. Mana crystals, now.”

  Grek grimaced and took out a handful of crystals from his pouch. He approached me and the flaps flared up.

  I smacked them down. “Hey, my Mouth.”

  The flaps floated back down chastised. I took the mana crystal from Grek. The flaps floated back up and gathered all but two mana crystals and stored them in my pocket.

  I looked down at the leather folds and muttered, “That is convenient.”

  “It is trying to ingratiate itself to you.” Grek glared down at the flaps.

  “Well, it’s working.” I agreed.

  “Your Highness, it will compel you to kill. It will drive you mad. We have seen its kind before,” Grek stated with a frown and stressed, “It is an artifact of death.”

  “Mad?” I laughed. “Do you think this little thing's will is stronger than mine?”

  “You don’t get it. It feeds on death. It will make you kill everything around you.” Whily shouted the last part and then looked up and muttered, “By Starbright’s stars, what have we done?”

  “You.” I pointed at Whily. “Stop panicking.”

  Grek looked at me. “Your Highness, you need to take that armor off.”

  “Why?”

  “We need to destroy it, right now.” Grek said gravely.

  I looked down at the flaps that had drooped onto my legs and clung to me. Some of them even moved to hide behind my thighs. It didn’t feel evil. I had seen evil. I had fought it. I had stood and faced a legion of doomed and damned. This was not it. Still…

  I slipped into the turbulent Dark Waters and looked at it. My eyes opened and I looked at the thing clinging onto my soul’s shield. My mouth flew open as two clawed feet scrabbled on my shield. The armor was alive? Well not alive. But it wasn’t dead either.

  I knocked on my shield to get the creature's attention. The little feet lost their grip. I quickly opened a hole in my shield and created an arm. I caught the little ferret. And looked at it.

  “You are cute. Little one.”

  I couldn’t believe my own words. What was living doing to me?

  The ferret looked at me with large black eyes. Its soul shivered in my arm. I slowly lowered it next to my pool of essence and began giving the little soul basic instructions.

  “Stay here. Don’t go into the pool. And don’t make a mess. I will let you stay if you follow my instructions.”

  The ferret looked at me with scared little eyes. I created a finger and stroked its little head.

  “Now, behave. I am going back up.”

  I raised myself from the dark and looked at Grek. He looked back at me with concern in his eyes.

  “No.” I finally said.

  “Your Highness?” Grek started.

  I cut him off. “Enough of this.” And then sighed. “It is not a problem.”

  “And if it becomes one?”

  “Tell me. Or better yet, tell Ilya or Father. And they will handle it. Does that help?” I asked Grek while folding my arms.

  Grek did not look pleased but nodded. “Yes.”

  The flaps relaxed and swayed back and forth.

  I looked down at them. “You need a name, little pet.”

  “Did he just call it a pet?” Whily asked in a whisper.

  Grek looked at the man.

  The flaps rustled again.

  I nodded. “It is settled then. You are Rustle.”

  “Did you just name a death bonded armor Rustle?” Grek asked.

  I shrugged. “It rustles. So, it is Rustle.”

  Grek groaned and smacked his forehead.

  I looked down at the flaps and asked, “You want to go kill things, Rustle?”

  The flaps slid against each other creating a louder rustle.

  I smiled down at the flaps. “Let’s go kill things.”