They say the Child of Thorns does not come often.
It appears only when called by suffering too sharp to ignore, and vanishes once its vengeance is complete.
This relic is the same, released in a limited number, never to return once gone.
It doesn’t love you.
It only hates the ones who hurt you more.
Some say those who wear its mark feel it watching from behind, waiting, ready to strike on their behalf.
But protection from thorns has its own cost:
The longer you keep it close, the more you bleed for it
The Child shields you from harm, but never gently.
It wounds those who strike at you, turning their cruelty back on them.
Yet each act of protection sinks the thorns deeper, until you can’t tell whose blood it’s drinking: theirs, or yours.