I spend my working hours writing beasts that could unmake reality. Creatures of void and fire and centuries of accumulated grief. Beings whose true forms would shatter a mortal mind.
And then I thought: what if you could put them on your bed?
So here they are. The beasts of the Anamnesis Trilogy, plush edition — constellation embroidery, glyph-work, and all. Scythe has already made it clear he considers this beneath his dignity. He is also, I note, the one most often found on the pillow.
Scythe
Ancient. Sardonic. Bonded to a girl with exceptionally poor taste in men, which he mentions often. The plush version carries his constellation-work in gold thread and the midnight-violet mane he would insist is not vanity, it's presence.
“I have devoured stars. I am machine-washable. We do not speak of it.”
Shade
A panther stitched from the dark between stars, with an open eye embroidered on one flank and a closed one on the other — because Shade sees what is and what's hidden, and never tells you which is which. The blue eyes follow you around the room. This is a feature.
Best kept where you can see it. Or where it can see you. It's the same thing.
Solace
Bonded to House Solis. Bearer of flame and renewal. Sees truth in the ashes. The plush edition trades the pyre for velvet in every shade of ember, gold-thread flame glyphs on the breast, and a tail that takes up half the shelf and regrets nothing.
The only beast on this list guaranteed not to set anything on fire. Probably.
Rook
An owl embroidered with the night sky it keeps — crescent moon on the brow, silver stars down every wing, and the faintly disappointed expression of a creature that has watched centuries of human decision-making and formed opinions.
Judges you silently from the bookshelf. You will apologise to it. Everyone does.
Gerald
Every ancient bestiary has one entry the scribes couldn't classify. A white fox threaded with living gold vines, radiating the serene confidence of a creature who knows something you don't and is in no hurry to share. The others have titles. Gerald has a name, and that is somehow more unsettling.
Scythe refuses to discuss Gerald. Make of that what you will.
These are concept designs for now — no production run yet. But if the idea of a void-beast on your pillow speaks to you, tell me. If enough of you say it, I'll take it as a sign. Scythe would call that manipulation. He's not wrong. He's also 40cm of huggable existential dread, so.
Want a beast of your own? Join the newsletter and tell me which one — the votes decide who gets made first.
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