It was a morning like any other. Their company had been called to cut down some trees for a construction project. Apparently, their client was the lucky fella who got his hands on the deeds to a highly sought-after private forest after its last owner died. Some eccentric rich man, the last member of the family who owned the local mining company. Word was they bought the land ages ago hoping to find gold, only for the forest to be dry of all precious minerals. Luckily for them and the local economy, the small mountain that was also included in the deal was rich in silver.

Generation after generation ran the company and hosted lavish parties in their private estate in the forest away from prying eyes, though most of the time they lived in the much more practical manor built right next to the Silver Crest's city hall, with the last few decades also introducing a sumptuous villa at the beach far away from their historical home, on the other side of the continent.

Yes, it was a morning like any other for the lumberjacks of the Smithson company. The oaks they were tasked to remove were a little strange, not quite matching those they knew, but it was within the realm of the possible. It wasn't the first time a species of trees grew a little more unique in a specific area, and the ones they began to work in particular were within a rock throw of the sylvan manor, so it would be expected for the previous gardeners to have done something to them while caring for them that would result in a clear difference with normal wild specimens.

The differences were minute, but still noticeable to those experienced in the arborical field, though the symptoms grew more and more obvious the closer they got to the estate, to the point even the untrained eye could tell there were shenanigans at play.

The plants had trunks wider than usual, with odd bumps that went from single masses like some sort of wooden tumors to more serpentine shapes, as though some creature had wormed its way beneath the bark and disturbed it with its every move. None of the oaks were sick or infested by any sort of parasite to their knowledge, but they still chose to pay some extra caution.

The first tree to be felled would be one of those notable strange ones, a particularly small one, likely the youngest this close to the manor, and all present were to wait for it to be cut down before they could go on and start on the rest. It was a waste of time of sorts but after a very painful incident in the past involving larvae in the wood packing quite the bite, the team present here was more than willing to wait, quite a few of the men and women gathered leaning against their work vehicles to spectate the unlucky colleague who had been chosen by fate to be the one bearing the tools that would kill this vegetal in the fairest game of luck available: he had been the first one to cross eyes with the leader of the group after he asked for a volunteer.

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The steps required to safely fell a tree had already been taken: the area it would fall had been determined, everyone present had been warned, and the lowest branches that might cause trouble had been cut off by the sacrificial lumberjack's chainsaw, with no hint of any insectile or fungal threat so far. The branches in question were healthy and clearly came from a living tree, so rot being responsible for its state was off the table.

The unfortunate one readied himself for a shower of disgusting juice as he raised his roaring machine, its metal teeth gnawing and gashing at the wood as soon they made contact.

All went well at first, with nothing out of the usual happening. As soon as the chainsaw reached a bump, however, this relative tranquility in the loud and dangerous work of a lumberjack came to an end.

Oh, the sacrificial lamb wasn't showered in fetid sap or juices from overabundant maggots, but he could feel that his machine wasn't cutting through wood anymore. He briefly pondered the best course of action, but caution won the fight and he quickly stopped the motor of his roaring tool. As he extracted the metal from the oak and checked the crevice he had made to see what had caused the change, his face pale.

The others, seeing his reaction, approached him, some ready to take the chainsaw from his hands in case he fell while others went to see the tree themself, while a handful stayed back by the vehicles and readied their phones in case emergency services were needed.

The first to get to the tree was a woman and as her gaze fell to the dirty ivory thing that lay beneath the bark, she too found her blood drained from her face.

Soon the entire group had seen the truth being the lump, and their leader was already calling the police.

For what else could they do at the sight of a skull beneath the wood?

The large gash that ran through half of it from the bite of the steel chain did nothing to hinder the obvious human nature of the bones, and some curious prodding from one of the lumberjacks pulling at the bark revealed vertebrae beneath, hinting at a full skeleton lying in wait deep in the core of the plant, as well as what likely was the cause of the veins-like patterns, a metal being just as encased in the wood as the bones.

It was a morning like any other when the Smithson company discovered what would become the most famous thing Silver Crest would be known for.

Two months later, the lumberjacks still cooperated with the police to fell every tree suspected to contain a body.

Those already recovered counted in the tens of thousands, ranging from adults to children, with the most recent bodies being identified as having been left there for a decade, while the age of the oldest had been more reliably established by the number of rings in the centuries-old trees the bones had been found in.

It was the day following a morning like any other when Silver Crest's Silver Woods became better known as Skeleton Forest.

When Silver Crest became the city with the bones in the trees.