Malric wandered deeper into the forest, his skeletal frame moving through the darkened undergrowth with a steady pace. The silence of the woods felt oppressive, the stillness pressing in from all sides. No animals scurried through the leaves, no insects buzzed in the air. It was as if the forest itself had abandoned all life. He stepped carefully, his sharp bones scraping faintly against the bark of the trees as he passed.
Despite the silence, there was something oddly comforting about it. His mind, though fragmented and foreign, seemed to find a strange peace in the emptiness. It was as though the absence of noise mirrored the hollowness within him, that same void he could not escape. He hated that void. The anger that surged through him earlier when he saw the living, the raw, biting hatred, it hadn't gone away. It lingered in the back of his mind, gnawing at him.
But for now, he focused on the path ahead. He didn’t know what he was looking for—answers, perhaps, or simply a way forward. All he knew was that there had to be something. Something that would fill the emptiness that kept growing inside him.
His steps were slow, deliberate. Malric could feel the weight of the ruin ahead of him before he even saw it. It was an old structure, its stones cracked and worn down by time, but still standing amidst the trees. The crumbling walls were draped in vines, their tendrils clinging like the last remnants of something once alive. He approached it cautiously, every movement precise, as though waiting for something to spring from the shadows. Yet, there was nothing.
He stepped inside, his footfalls echoing softly in the dead air. The ruin seemed abandoned, untouched for years. He brushed his hand against the stone walls, feeling the cold surface beneath his fingers. The air inside was thick with dust and the scent of decay. His hollow eye sockets scanned the interior, trying to make sense of the disarray. The ruin held no immediate answers, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was somehow significant.
The faint glow of something caught his eye. A symbol, etched into the stone, its edges worn away by time. Malric stared at it for a long moment, trying to make sense of the patterns. They were unfamiliar, nothing like the markings he’d seen before. It sparked something in his chest—a recognition, perhaps, but he could not place it.
The silence stretched, and Malric’s unease grew. His fingers twitched, aching with the need to do something, anything, to push forward. The ruin mocked him with its stillness, its vast emptiness. There was something more here, he could feel it. The strange sensation gnawed at him, a draw he couldn’t explain. A whisper in the back of his mind, urging him to explore further.
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It was then, in the quiet shadows of the ruin, that he saw it. Half-hidden beneath a pile of debris, a human skeleton lay in an unnatural position, as though it had collapsed here long ago. Malric froze. The bones were still intact, though the clothing was ragged and worn, little more than tatters. He stood still for a long moment, staring at the remains. Something about the sight of the bones pulled at him.
He stepped closer, his footfalls softer now, his eyes locked on the skeletal form. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the cold, brittle bones. There was no doubt now—a strange, undeniable feeling coursed through him. He could feel it deep in his core, a pull, like an instinct buried beneath layers of confusion.
Malric bent down, reaching for the arm of the corpse. His fingers curled around the bone, feeling the jagged edges, the rough texture. He tugged, and with a sickening snap, the arm came free. The action was simple, mechanical. But as soon as the limb was in his grasp, he felt it—a surge, like an electric current rushing through his bones. His body hummed with new energy.
He stood there for a long time, the severed arm in his hands. He could feel something growing inside him. It was power, raw and untapped, a spell beginning to form deep within his core. It was something he could use, something that would make him stronger. It was the first real sense of purpose he had felt since waking.
With a final, decisive movement, he attached the arm to his own, fitting it into place. The bones locked together with a hollow, unnatural click, and Malric stood motionless for a moment, his mind flooded with the new sensation. His strikes would be stronger now. He could feel the magic coursing through him, pulsing in time with his heartbeat—or what passed for it. But as the power surged, he could sense a toll as well. Each strike would drain him, take a piece of his energy. The price was clear.
He let out a small, almost inaudible sigh. This power—it was both a gift and a burden. But it was something. And for now, that was all that mattered. He wasn’t sure where it would lead, but it was a step forward. It was progress, something to grasp onto in this strange, fragmented existence.
A sudden chill swept through the ruin, and Malric instinctively straightened, his senses on high alert. He felt something shift in the air. It was as if something or someone else was present, lurking just out of sight. The feeling was familiar, yet unsettling. It was the same sensation he had felt earlier, when he thought he was being watched. But this time, the presence was heavier, more deliberate.
Malric turned, his hollow gaze sweeping the ruin once more. There was nothing. The place was empty. Yet, the air felt thick, pressing in on him. It was then that he realized how deeply the absence of life affected him. The emptiness here mirrored the void inside him—an absence he couldn’t fill, no matter how much power he sought.
He let out a low grunt of frustration, turning away from the ruin. This place, these symbols, the corpse—none of it seemed to be connected to him, not in any way he could understand. The more he tried to force meaning from it, the more it slipped through his fingers, like sand.
With one last glance at the crumbling stones and the bones of the fallen, Malric stepped away. He moved cautiously, his steps slow and deliberate, as if searching for something that wasn’t there. As he left the ruin behind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had drawn him here wasn’t about him at all. There were no answers here. Just silence. Maybe it was even the skeleton itself. If so, his business there is finished.
For now, he would leave it behind, and find the answers elsewhere. But the feeling of the bones, the power coursing through him, stayed with him, lingering like a whisper in the dark. He would need to learn more, to understand this gift, this curse, and where it would take him. There was still so much to uncover, and somewhere deep within him, he knew that whatever the future held, it wouldn’t be simple.