Belas. That was the name I heard when I awoke. The darkness was overwhelming and yet, I could see through the lack of light. Dim grays and drowned out color surrounded me, though I could sense a heavy allure, the attraction of blood on the corpses before me.

Then that voice echoed in the back of my head.

Accept divinity and carry my power and my name. Belas.

Belas. . . I thought the name again and I felt the warm presence in my mind.

“You might wonder why I chose you.”

The voice echoed in my mind, I could only shake my head.

“Oh, well.” The voice paused for a moment. “I am Belas, a patron of Light. You killed the last holder, Wilem. What is your name?”

My name. . I didn’t have a name. I never thought about it before. Monsters don’t usually have names, at least. I’ve never met another skeleton with a name.

“Then I shall grant you a name. . . er.”

Vilas? I pondered, it sounded sort of like Belas and it loosely matched with Wilem.

“Then it shall be done. I grant you the name, Vilas.”

The world turned even darker as I felt the medallion slip from my fingers and my back hit the ground. I heard the voice in my head echo and scatter to the edge of my senses as I slipped into unconsciousness. It was a weird feeling.

I felt electricity crackle across my body as a warm radiance purified my soul, that name, Vilas. The word, each letter, inscribed into my very being.

By the time I awoke, all I could do was stare at the ceiling in wonder, in wonder that I could think. In wonder that I was a monster. Whoever I was before, if I was anyone before, I couldn’t recall.

My head was quiet, I thought to myself, trying to conjure that voice back. Belas. . . Belas. . .

“Beh. . Be-lash.” My voice croaked in a deep hacking growl. I shocked myself, hearing my own voice. I brought a hand to my throat, feeling leathery flesh instead of bone. I brought my hand before my eyes, black taught skin covered my bones. Dry jerky-like flesh coated my entire body.

I looked around, the man in plate mail stayed motionless before me, but the other two corpses were gone. A trail of blood dragged across the stone ground far down the hall.

“Su--word” I grumbled, whatever deal I had made, I was now Vilas. A skeleton-- or. . . something. A word formed in my head, draugr. Vilas, the draugr.

It had a nice ring to it, I thought, as I looked over my surroundings and the golden medallion caught my eye again. Context flowed into my mind like a stream, this thing whatever it was, was my own fountain of knowledge. The medallion was an heirloom, passed down by a lineage of Paladins.

Perhaps I was one now too.

My eyes shifted from the trinket to the bloodied armor. I set down the golden medallion carefully before descending on Wilem. Rather unceremoniously, I tore off his gauntlets, pulling and tugging at the leather straps and metal clasps. It looked more like I was trying to eat him.

My fingers, now covered in stretched skin, didn’t give much of an advantage over my old bony hands. My dexterity as poor as it was, impatiently pulled, tugged, snapped, and ripped through what I could not open normally.

Eventually, through some gnawing of skin and bone, I had a poorly filleted man and a set of full armor. I, unfortunately, torn through much of the finer armor, the gauntlets, graves, and leg plates were ripped from their leather binds. However, the cuirass was mostly whole, aside from the bloody tear in the back.

To the side, a torn knapsack with a few of his things, looking through it I found a set of clothes, a bag of shiny coins, and other things that didn’t really make much sense to me in the moment.

“Err. . . Be-lash?” I called out, staring at the ceiling, before grabbing the medallion on the ground. I pressed it to my now fleshy cheek before groaning. “Beh-lash. . “

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

What do I do with this. . . what did he want from me?

A glint of light caught my eye, I looked at the knapsack again, and digging through it I saw. . myself? A small piece of glass, showing the bony figure imposed before the stone wall behind me. Though I didn’t look like a skeleton, rather, it looked like I was decomposing backwards. Dark ashen-grey flesh coated my entire body, covering most of my formerly exposed bone.

I felt. . naked? The concept formed in my mind. I never thought about it before.

I let my instinct guide me, pulling the clothes towards me, a pair of boxers, trousers, and a tunic. I discarded the boxers, tossing it into the pile of gore. I wiped my bloodied fingers across my mouth, the little moisture on my rotten tongue clinging onto the viscera, before pulling on the pants. My slender legs barely filled the larger man’s pants, the rope that I pulled and tied around my waist scrunching up the fabric.

Then, I pulled the tunic over my head, struggling for a second as I lost my arms trying to orient myself in the fabric prison.

Why would anyone wear something like this!?

With time I got my head free and then my arms, tugging the bottom of the tunic to cover my exposed chest. While a little restrictive and way too big, it felt a little nice to be covered, oddly enough.

I looked down at my feet, the medallion and the mirror sparkling back up at me. I quickly pocketed the gold trinket, holding onto the fleeting warmth for a moment before grabbing the knapsack and the bag of gold. The weight felt nice, and the shiny coins inside made a cute clinking sound.

I dumped everything else on the ground and put the mirror and the gold inside. All that was left was the sword and dagger, they were far cleaner than the dinky excuse for a sword and bow I had. . . my last two arrows were around here somewhere but, maybe this was what I was meant to wield.

The cuirass found its way in my hands, as I pulled it on, fumbling with the leather straps until it loosely stayed hung on my body. Then the sword and the dagger.

I felt. . . more complete, somehow. It felt good.

I’m the chosen. . . I am Vilas!

“Vih.. las.” I cackled, though it ended up sounding like a dying wheeze, not that I cared.

I poked the dagger around my waist until I found the place for it, but for the sword, I must’ve torn apart the sheath or left it in the gore. . . annoying. .

The knapsack hung from my shoulder and the sword dragged against the stone floor behind me as I ambled away from the mess and back into the dungeon.

As I wandered, my mind did the same, roaming thoughts formed feelings that formed memories. The once comforting endless stone hallways suddenly felt cold and distant.

It was as if I had awoken from a long dream. But the dream was all I could remember.

I didn’t want to stay here, something inside of me tugged to ascend the dungeon floors.

As I looked up to the mossy ceiling, I heard an all too familiar cackle. The knocking of bones.

Two skeletons stepped out into the hall, quickly they became aware of my presence. Monsters in the dungeon rarely worked together and if they did it was often out of coincidence or shared hunting grounds.

But the way they both approached, they were looking at me. One lowered their form while the other watched from afar.

It was a basic attack pattern. .

My golden eyes flickered as I dropped the knapsack to the floor, gripping the Paladin’s longsword with both hands.

The first skeleton came charging in, I wildly swung slashing at the hard bone. I was definitely stronger than when I was a skeleton, but our skill was the same. We traded blows, their bony fingers clawing against my breastplate while I chip away at their form. Nicks turned to cracks and eventually I fully cleaved my blade into the first’s skull.

Then, a pair of arms wrapped around my back, a skeletal hand gripping at my jaw. It didn’t seem all that concerning until I felt teeth bite down at my neck.

I growled, a mixture of annoyance and anger rising in my raspy throat as I wildly flailed. My left hand gripped the skeleton’s clavicle, pulling with all my strength as I slammed it into the wall. Flesh torn from the side of my neck. I whacked and slammed the sword into the second skeleton, pieces of rib and spine shattering and splintering across the hall until it too became immoving.

My body heaved, dragging shallow breaths through my dry throat as I stared at the two. . corpses, is what I think you could call them.

“Beh—lus. .” I called out again, but again there was no response.

Suddenly, I was washed with gold light, though not from myself but the two skeletons. Their bodies, what remains of them, glowed a fluorescent yellow until they dissolved into small sparkling sprites.

Their essence flowed towards me, I took a step back, only to watch as they filtered up my leg and surrounded me before fading. The heat traveled up my body coalescing to my neck, I reached up to touch where a wound should’ve been, only to find tender dry flesh.

I absorbed them? That’s never happened before. . .

I followed my instinct, traveling the lower levels of the dungeon, so far down there were mostly just other skeletons.

Fight after fight was going to be a battle of attrition, it didn’t seem the other undead took kindly to my sentience. With every kill that warmth slowly returned, the golden medallion I carried seemed to radiate with power.

That woman. . she knew the person I killed. Wilem. .

She had magic. . ice magic.

“Mah-jik.” I wanted magic. .

So many things I wanted to do. There was a world outside the dungeon, something past cobbled walls, something past the endless killing.

I stared at my fingers, the contrast of the gray flesh against the light steel of the sword. The dented chest plate and worn clothes stood out against my body.

“Another dead end?” A soft voice echoed down the hall. Immediately, my ears trained on its source. A dungeon crawler. . .