Life as a skeleton servant is boring. Or should I say unlife? Either way, my Mistress keeps giving me the same old tasks.
‘Alph, stir those potions. Alph, clean the tower. Alph, strangle that peasant with his intestines.’
It just gets mundane after a while, you know? Now don’t get me wrong. I love my Mistress. She just has this way with words that has me obeying her every order. Lucy once said something about us being ‘Dutybound’ and that this whole obedience thing is a product of magic. Now she’s fertiliser for the garden herbs. Serves her right. Mistress would never use us like that. And besides, what else can we do but serve her? The world is cruel out there, especially if you’re a skeleton. With all the heroes and goodies that roam the realm it’s damn near impossible to visit a city, let alone get a proper job. Not only did Mistress bring us back, she lets us stay in her tower for the low low cost of eternal servitude. She’s a saint, if you ask me. I don’t get why people call her a witch and other mean things. Perhaps that’s why she has them strangled. Though now that I think about it, the most recent ones didn’t even say anything…
The last few days have been rough, so maybe she’s lashing out? Poor Mistress has been holed up in her laboratory for hours on end during the past week. She keeps rumbling on about breakthroughs and arcane cores, even in her sleep. I don’t understand any of it, so I just smile and nod… which in essence means I just nod. I may not have muscles any more, but the intent is there.
Recently, I‘ve been spending most of my time in the battlements. I like it up there. I’ve been instructed to keep watch, so I have to obey, but I like it regardless. Cloudless nights like this let me see far into the distance, at the human cities and their countless lights flickering through the darkness. Something about them gives me a weird, nostalgic feeling. I must have been born in one of those. When I try to think further, something holds me back, keeping me focused on the task at hand. Which is good. I’m a professional after all. Can’t afford to get distracted over some petty lights when I’ve got a duty to uphold. Speaking of which… Is that small light moving? Oh damn, it is. It almost looks like a torch. This is exactly what Mistress told me to watch out for. I should probably report it.
I make my way back down the winding stairs, bones clanking against the stone. There’s no screams coming from the laboratory, so Mistress must have already retreated to her chambers for the night. I quickly rush over and enter through the half open door. Sure enough, Mistress’ crimson hair betrays she’s there, hidden somewhere under a pile of pillows and blankets.
“Mistress,” I start. “There’s a–”
“By the seven fucking demons, Marcus. Let me sleep.” She shifts a little under the sheets, exposing her sinuous curves to the moonlight coming through the window.
Truly tragic, to be all bones but lack the bone that really matters. Not only that, but to be confused for another man. “Mistress, I am not Mar–”
“Shut the fuck up,” Mistress says, always eloquent.
I nod and wait for Mistress to let me speak, helplessly trying to remember the last time I’d been with a woman. My ribcage did get tangled up with Fiona’s pelvis at some point, but I’m not sure that counts.
“Leave.” Her voice is muffled by the pillow as she points to the door.
Now, some tiny voice inside my head tells me that the information I have to deliver is important, and that Mistress should definitely know. But then again, she did order me to leave. As I’ve already mentioned, I’m a professional, and I take my job seriously. Staying silent as instructed, I make my way back out and up onto the battlements.
Looking down, I can see that the light has grown closer. Underneath it, a tall man on horseback and white armour rides up the small hill that leads to the tower. Something about him chills me to the bone. Almost instinctively, I can tell that he’s an enemy, that he’s carrying a light that’s like poison. Yet I perform my solemn duty unafraid, and just stand there. I will let my Mistress sleep. I inch a little closer to the edge and peer down to see him dismount, before positioning himself in front of the gate.
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He raises a fist and sparks of magic gather in the air around it, clinging to his gauntlet until it shines like the sun. His chest heaves with a deep, powerful breath. Then he smashes against the gate and everything goes white.
“Ack!” I drop backwards, the clanking of my tailbone lost in the thunderous booms and screams that follow. My fingers reach for my eye sockets for some reason, but I don’t have the time to figure out why. I feel my Mistress’ cold touch calling to me, drawing me to her with a force I’d never felt before. Rushing to my feet, I join my brothers and sisters in the long hall. Rows upon rows of white bone separate me and the stairs that lead to the gate underneath. I’m dead last in line, yet I can hear the crushing of bones and see flashes of light reflected on the tower’s ancient walls. Mistress has already retreated to the laboratory right behind me. Even if I can’t be the one to face the intruder, I’ll do my best to be her guard.
More clanking of bones, slowly drawing closer. My siblings shake, and I catch myself doing the same, so I look down. I’ve only seen fear in others, but I don’t experience it. That can’t be it. The shaking turns stronger as the tower tilts worryingly, stones grinding against each other with a low rumble. I can see the man’s magic now, shining through the gaps between bones. Then I see his giant, double-edged sword, cleaving through the tower’s stone as he draws it, then through my siblings as he slashes down. So many fall under a single swing. Marcus, Anne, Vilo, Screw Names and Skeletons six to fourteen. I ready myself for battle, but instead falter and fall. Looking down, I see that the very edge of the sword cut my right leg’s bones without me even realising. And those were my good leg bones, damn it.
The man walks over me and I grab his ankle. Even faced with such an enemy, it’s my duty to protect my Mistress. Sadly, amid the bones he’s kicking about with his boot, he doesn’t even notice me or my weight latching on. He gathers light in his hand again, less this time, and prepares to bust the laboratory’s door open. I make to yell and draw his attention, then remember my orders. ‘Shut the fuck up.’
With another blinding burst of light, the door flies off its hinges. Instantly, I can feel Mistress’ comforting cold rush up and hug the both of us in dark magic. But right as I start to feel safe, the man swats it away with a single motion.
“You won’t beat me with tricks,” the man scoffs with a baritone voice.
“Did the Cilian send you?” Mistress asks. “I’ll give you double! No, triple what they’re paying you!” Always an effective negotiator, she is.
“God sent me.” The man walks inside, dragging me and the bones that got tangled with mine inside. He lifts up his sword over her chest, tip pointing down. “So carry my name and valor when I send you to the underworld, you lich bitch. Let all the other souls I’ve judged know that you’ve been slain by Wilmot Dawnwalker, avatar of Relos and champion of the light!” I can see radiance gathering on his sword.
“No! Please!” Mistress calls darkness to her palms, but it vanishes under the man’s light. She looks around frantically, before her eyes fall on me.
“Marcus!” She screams. “Help me, Marcus, you worthless bag of bones!”
Wait, Marcus is already bone meal. Oh, she’s looking in my direction. She does confuse us all the time. I guess skeletons do look alike, especially if they’re male. I should probably obey the order either wa–
“Screaming your lover’s name in your final moments, huh?” The man above chuckles to himself. “Typical and pathetic. Pathetypical.”
Lover? I turn to Mistress in indignation. She let Marcus bone her but not me? No. Now’s not the time for drama. After all, I am a pro–
The man’s sword slams through her chest, and suddenly I feel empty. He splashes me with blood as he draws it back, leaving Mistress with a look almost as vacant as mine. The man walks away and I find that my fingers now lack the strength to hold on.
Trickles of darkness form thin lines over Mistress’ cold dead fingers, reaching up to me. Something is calling to me. Something I need so very desperately. I suddenly remember what hunger feels like, and it feels wrong. The strings pull me closer, and I use what little strength I have left to crawl to her. I know what lets me move and speak and think, and I crave it. I dig my boney fingers into Mistress’ chest, pulling the cut flesh apart. My hands brush against something smooth inside her, and it gives me a final burst of strength to pull it out. A luminescent core, almost like a cracked glass sphere full of light. It’s so ravenous, this desire for it. It overwhelms everything else. You never really know you need something until you realise its absence.
I can feel Mistress’ essence and her touch, so I pull it close to my chest and hug it, only for it to slip through my fingers. It drops onto my spine and rolls across my ribs before stopping all by itself, right where my heart once was. Then a voice fills my head and a weird darkness creeps up on me.
[ Arcane Core has been assimilated. Stats have been unlocked. ]