The Slythoris beast swipes down at us and I step forward in front of Jenna and Synt.

“Stand back!” I urge them.

The Slythoris swipes hard at me and I break apart.

Great. It’s happened again. I’m in bits and I’m reduced to a floating skull watching my bones flying everywhere. Now they start to jiggle about and then join together to reform my skeletal limbs and torso.

The Slythoris roars and swipes at my bony limbs and torso as they start to float around its head and harass it.

I hear the swish of an arrow. Synt has fired his bow at the Slythoris, but the arrow barely pierces the beast’s tough hide. It roars again.

“Hey, there’s no need for that,” I call to Synt. “I can take the horn without killing it. Arms! Pick up Zarath’s sword and slice the horn off the beast’s head.”

Zarath’s sword has fallen into the sludge in the bottom of the pit. Now my bony arms scoop it out and float into the air about the head of the Slythoris, bringing the sword around in a wide arc and cutting through the beast’s horn.

My right arm grabs the horn as it falls.

I will myself back together and my bones all reassemble so I’m a complete skeleton again. In my left hand I’m holding Zarath’s sword, in my right hand I’m holding the Slythoris horn. These are the weapons I need to kill Zarath.

I put the horn in my belt and then I will my right hand to detach and float into the air and pluck the arrow from the torso of the Slythoris. I don’t want the poor beast to be in pain.

My hand floats back to me and reattaches to my wrist. I hand the arrow to Synt. “Here.”

The three of us leave the Slythoris beast and make our way back up the tunnel.

“That was amazing, Seren,” says Jenna. Her hazel eyes are wide in her shiny green face. She touches my skeletal arm with her gloved hand. Generally, I never liked being touched by strangers, but Jenna is my friend now and I’m glad that she feels comfortable around me.

I swivel my skull around ninety degrees to look directly at her. “Thank you, thank you,”

I wish I could smile at her, but I’ve got no lips…

“I say that leaving the Slythoris beast alive was a bad idea,” grumbles Synt. “If Zarath is keeping it here, he’s probably going to use it to spearhead his forces.

“Not if I kill him first,” I say. “Then the Slythoris won’t hurt anyone.”

We leave the Howling Tunnels, fortunately not encountering any more of Zarath’s henchmen. The crypt is in the fissure in the Starstone Hills, so we head in that direction. When we reach the edge of the hills, night has fallen and we are surprised by what we see. Three armoured skeleton warriors are beating up a handsome human guy with their wooden sticks.

“Bow before the henchmen of the mighty Zarath, human!” says one of the skeletons, his voice echoing as his jaws clack together.

A second skeleton warrior waves his wooden stick. “You’re going to get boned!” he declares.

“Bend over, boy!” says the third, and he swipes at the human with his wooden stick.

I scuttle forward, feeling a hot surge of anger in my bones. “Stop that right now!” I yell. My voice echoes around the hills. “Leave him alone!”

The three skeleton warriors swivel their skulls around to stare at me. A bloody light glows in their eye sockets.

“A female skeleton in heat? Risen from the grave to look for a mate?” Says the first skeleton warrior in a scathing tone. “You’re long past your prime.”

“We’re the henchmen of the all powerful Zarath!” says the second skeleton warrior.

“A feeble girl poses no threat to us, whether she is living or undead,” says the third.

“We’re going to take this boy and no force on Caucris can stop us,” says the first.

“You have hugely underestimated me,” I tell him. “Hands! Get them!”

My hands break off and fly towards the skeleton warriors, brandishing the sword of Zarath. The sword cuts the three skeleton warriors down like reeds as they yell in fury, their hollow voices making the hills reverberate with their echoes. Then my hands use the sword point to smash each of their skulls one by one.

“Zarath will know about this,” says the skull of the first skeleton warrior as my hands hover above him with the sword. “Zarath will resurrect us, and then we will purge all life from Caucris.”

“Rest in pieces,” I tell him.

My floating hands bring down the sword point upon the evil skull, smashing him to splinters.

My hands float back to me and reattach themselves to my wrists.

“Zarath’s henchmen are all so arrogant,” says Synt.

“None of them are a match for our Seren though,” says Jenna, her green face split in a wide grin. “What a fighter that girl is.”

I sheathe the sword and kneel beside the guy who Zarath’s henchmen were harassing.

“Are you OK?”

Oh ye gods, up close his face is so beautiful… it would take my breath away if I still had any. He has brown eyes and freckles…! He’s so handsome he actually reminds me of Jaime, except that he has a little cleft in his chin. He’s wearing a medium helm, but the fringe of his chestnut hair almost comes down to his wide brown eyes. The shape of his nose and cheekbones are so cute. I can only gape for a moment. My jaw drops. Literally.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“They attacked me… They kept coming,” says the handsome guy.

“I – I - …“ I stammer.

Get it together, Seren. I tell myself. You’re a married woman and you’re on a dangerous quest. You cannot act dazed in front of gorgeous guys now.

“You weren’t putting up much of a fight,” says Synt.

I swivel my skull around one hundred and eighty degrees to glare at Synt. “Don’t be horrible.”

Jenna kneels beside us. “You’re among friends now.”

“They were going to put their sticks in me,” says the handsome guy.

I lay my bony hands on his shoulders. “I would never let that happen.”

He winces. “Please don’t touch me.”

I feel a pang of hurt and withdraw my hands.

“What’s your name?” says Jenna softly. She lays her gloved hands on his shoulders.

“Clark.”

Clark doesn’t mind Jenna touching him, but he winced when I touched him. It’s because I’m a skeleton and Zarath’s henchmen who were harassing him were skeletons. I wrap my bony arms around my bony legs and sit huddled. I thought Synt was hurtful, but Clark’s fear of me hurts on a whole other level. I really wanna cry now.

Synt’s looking down at me. “Why worry about inspiring fear? It’s something you can cultivate. Think of the reputation you could build as a sword for hire.”

Jenna sits herself beside me. “I for one don’t fear you. I feel safe with you around.”

I gaze at her. I’m trembling. My bones rattle.

Jenna puts her arms around my bony form as best she can. “Oh come on, silly. Everyone who gets to know you will love you. I’m starting to love you.”

I lean against her. I’m well aware of Synt smirking at us and Clark staring with wide brown eyes.

“Sorry if I’ve caused upset,” says Clark. He scratches his freckled nose. “I’ve got to get back to the cityport.”

“Don’t be silly, Zarath’s henchmen could be anywhere in the wilderness,” I tell him. “You must come with us. Just think of your wife and mother. They must be worried.” I clench my bony fists. “And I’ll be worried if you wander off in these parts. Why not think of that?”

Synt covers his mouth with one hand as he smirks.

We trek through the hills. The grass is all blackened and charred and the trees look scorched. We must be nearing Zarath’s lair. I want to steal glances at Clark’s face because he’s so handsome and looks like Jaime, but I really don’t want to frighten him…

After an hour of trekking though the blackened hills we reach our goal. Lying at the bottom of a valley like an open wound, the fissure that is Zarath’s lair throws out a fetid vapour into the air.

Jenna wrinkles her shiny green nose.

“The air is obviously unbreathable down there,” she tells us.

“Just as well I don’t need to breathe then,” I say. “Synt, wait with Jenna and Clark. I’m going down there…” I step to the edge of the gaping black maw. Steps run down one side into the black void.

“Seren, wait,” says Jenna. Her voice trembles and she’s looking at me with wide, hazel eyes.

“Right. I need a plan,” I say. “Let’s see if one of Zarath’s followers appears. I can take his robes or armour to disguise myself.”

“Smart thinking,” says Synt approvingly. “Do what you’ve got to, for the good of Caucris.”

Jenna runs up to me, but Synt restrains her and he starts to admonish her in a smug voice. “Only one of the undead can survive down there. Seren must do what only she can do. It’s her destiny to fight Zarath.”

Jenna shakes off his grasp and glares at him. “A lot you care if she’s killed. You’re always so rude to her…”

But now a hooded figure steps out of the fissure, dressed in ragged black robes. The head is a skull and fire glows within its eye sockets.

“Intruders in the domain of Zarath?” the skeleton's hollow voice echoes around the fissure as his jaws clack together. “I will rend you all limb from limb.”

“Wanna bet?”

I swing Zarath’s sword round in a wide arc and the skeleton’s skull shatters and he collapses into a pile of bones. I cover myself with the black robe and pull the hood well over my skull. Zarath’s sword and the Slythoris horn are well concealed.

“Jenna, please take care of my money pouch and wedding ring until I get back. Clark has his sword, but you don’t have a weapon, so take my old knife.”

I hold out my ring, my pouch and my old knife to her. She takes them. Her gloved hands are trembling.

“You must come back,” she says. There are tears in her hazel eyes.

“If I don’t come back in three hours, assume the worst and that you have to get away from here, all of you,” I say firmly. “Then please take the ring to my husband, Jaime of Willowmere.”

“Good luck,” says Clark uneasily.

“Go get Zarath,” says Synt with a grin, clapping me on the shoulder.

I scuttle down the steps into the gloom and swirling vapours. But the dark and the foul fumes don’t bother me. I’m a being of the night, and I don’t need to breathe. A strange property of the rocks gives off a lurid glimmer.

After a hundred paces, the tunnel opens out into a chamber littered with shattered skulls. What happened here? At the end of the chamber there is an archway with a surround sculpted with demons and serpents. Beyond the archway is another tunnel. I follow this tunnel which leads to a chamber carved in white marble adorned with statues of demons and evil gods. At the far end of the chamber, there’s a skeleton sitting on an ornate throne. The skeleton is wrapped in purple and gold robes and has a jewelled crown on his skull. In one bony hand, he clutches a sceptre made of a dark metal. In the far wall beyond the throne is a bronze door.

The jaw of the skeleton moves and his deep voice echoes around the chamber:

“I am Gorgoth, once the scourge of Mortvania. I am keeper of the crypt of Zarath and the master of knowledge. Fifty years ago I ruled Mortvania with an iron fist. Now over the past fifty years since I died, I have become cold bone, but my powers are great.”

“It took you fifty years to become a skeleton?” I pull back my hood to reveal my skull. “It took me fifty minutes. You must have decomposed slowly.”

“Your history is insignificant, worm,” says Gorgoth. “I demand you answer my question – what business have you in the crypt of Zarath the necromancer?”

Right. Time to bluff in true adventurer’s style.

“I’ve been to Port Glikridge to buy weapons,” I say quickly. “The ruler, that’s Lord Dred, he’s surrendering to Zarath.”

“If your story is true, then Zarath will definitely want to know all about it,” says Gorgoth. “But first you will answer my questions so I can ascertain whether you are really a servant of Zarath. First question – how much would you pay for a good warhammer in Port Glikridge?”

There were warhammers on sale in the market in Port Glikridge. They were on the expensive side.

“Seventy copper pieces,” I reply.

“Yes, Port Glikridge is a city of thieves,” says Gorgoth. “Second question, if you were in Port Glikridge then you will know that Zarath’s right hand man, Maggart Stain, is resurrected as a living corpse and is at large in the cityport.”

He must be talking about the horrible living corpse that was terrorising the city until I smashed him.

“Yeah, he gnawed my arms,” I reply.

“He is a cannibal and he is always ravenous,” says Gorgoth. “He will even try to chew on cold bone. So answer my question, how many severed ears has Maggart eaten at one sitting?”

I don’t have a stomach anymore, but if I did, I bet my stomach would heave at that disgusting image.

“I don’t know… and that’s absolutely vile!” I shake my skull. “How can you willingly associate with such horrible people as Maggart and Zarath?”

“So! You are a spy from the outside world. How foolish to think that you could trick me,” hisses Gorgoth.

So much for bluffing my way in.

Gorgoth raises the sceptre. “Flesh become stone.” His voice resounds around the chamber.

“Is that a spell? What’s it supposed to do? Turn my flesh to stone? I don’t have any flesh.”

Gorgoth rises to his feet. “As a king, I would smite disobedient subjects with this very sceptre. Man, woman or child, I killed any who displeased me.”

I raise Zarath’s sword. “Good to know. Now I won’t feel bad about smashing your skull.”

Gorgoth raises his sceptre, but I sweep the sword round and it cuts through the dark metal as though it were butter. Now I bring the sword down on Gorgoth’s skull. His crown bursts apart and the jewels clatter across the floor. His skull splinters and his lifeless bones collapse in a heap along with his robes.

I gaze at the bronze door with trepidation. I have the bronze key I picked up from a skeleton warrior in the Howling Tunnels and it looks the right size for the lock. I put the key in the lock and turn it. The bronze door opens slowly, and I’m hit by a gust of mist. I enter the crypt of the necromancer. There’s an outline of a figure shrouded in the mist and it’s coming towards me…