Evan walked on, his skeletal feet making soft, rhythmic crunches on the dirt path. He tried not to overthink, to let his mind go blank, but it was impossible. His thoughts kept circling back, gnawing at him like a dog with a bone—though in his case, the bone was literal. He knew he was dead. At least, he was dead back on Earth. He remembered the sensation of the car veering off the road, the stomach-lurching moment when he knew there was no coming back. The impact, though—that part was fuzzy. He recalled the descent, the stormy night lit by brief flashes of moonlight through the clouds, then nothing. Just this.
He looked around, trying to make sense of where he was. The path stretched ahead, flanked by trees that seemed impossibly tall, their tops lost in the sky. The sky itself was a serene blue, dotted with lazy white clouds. It was the kind of sky you’d expect to see on a peaceful summer day, not in the kind of place where the dead might find themselves. Not that Evan had any idea where the dead were supposed to end up.
His mind wandered back to the wagons. Wagons, really? They belonged to the Amish, or maybe to people in parts of the world he knew next to nothing about. Maybe some remote Asian villages still used carts and oxen, but he wasn’t sure. He shook his skull, trying to dislodge the thoughts. It was pointless to dwell on it. The reality was, he didn’t know where he was, or why he was here, or even when "here" was.
But how was he seeing? That question stuck with him, gnawing at his mind like a splinter he couldn’t quite pull out. He could look around, observe the world in vivid detail, but how? He had no eyes, just hollow sockets where they used to be. And then there was the breathing—why did he need to breathe? He wasn’t sure if he needed to, but every breath felt necessary, a habit he couldn’t shake even though his lungs were long gone. He held his breath, testing it, but the compulsion to exhale built up until he finally let out a breath he didn’t need.
He raised a hand, knocking on his ribs with a sharp rap, as if the answer might come echoing back from the hollow space within. The sound was eerie, a stark reminder that beneath the torn rags he wore, there was nothing but bone. No flesh, no muscle, just a skeletal frame that somehow, impossibly, still moved and thought and felt.
The thought of encountering someone crossed his mind, and a shiver ran down his spine—if he could even call it that. The rags did nothing to conceal his skeletal form, and he had no illusions about how people would react. He’d read enough, seen enough, to know that the undead were feared, hated. A deep sense of unease settled in what he could only assume was the pit of his being. Would they see him as a monster? A threat? He had a feeling they would. Wherever here was, he doubted it would be any different.
The hours dragged on, and the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the path. Evan just kept walking, following the setting sun as it dipped toward the horizon. He wasn’t sure why he kept going, only that there was nothing else to do. Walking was better than standing still, better than letting his thoughts consume him entirely. The path took him through a forest, the trees gradually thinning until he found himself in a small grassy field. The open space was a welcome change, but it did nothing to alleviate the heaviness in his mind.
Then he heard it—the distant roar of waves crashing against rocks. The sound sent a jolt through him, a pang of something almost like homesickness. The ocean. He hadn’t lived near the sea, not really. His apartment had been in the inner city, a good twenty-minute drive from the coast. But on days when the wind blew just right, he could smell the salt in the air, hear the distant call of seagulls. His landlord had marketed the place as having "ocean access," but that was a stretch. A twenty-minute drive didn’t count as access. Still, those occasional trips to the beach had been a reprieve from the grind of his life. None of that compared to how much he had walked today, though. He just kept going.
The forest was behind him now, a dark line on the horizon, and the sound of the waves grew louder with each step. The grassy field gave way to a rocky terrain, and the smell of salt filled the air. He walked toward it, drawn by a strange compulsion, until he reached the edge of the cliff.
Evan stopped, staring down at the scene below. It was eerily familiar, a cruel reflection of the place where he had died. The cliffs here were jagged, unforgiving, jutting out into the sea like broken teeth. Below, the waves crashed violently against the rocks, sending up sprays of white foam that sparkled in the fading light. There was no sandy beach to soften the fall, just sharp points and edges waiting to tear apart anything that came too close.
He sat down at the edge, letting his bony legs dangle over the side. The wind whipped around him, a constant presence, but he didn’t feel cold. He felt… nothing. Just the empty space where his emotions should have been. He stared out at the ocean, the vast, endless expanse of water that stretched to the horizon and beyond. Was this real? Could any of this be real?
His thoughts drifted back to his last moments on Earth, the way the car had plunged off the road, the sickening certainty that he was about to die. Had he died and been brought back here? Back in time, maybe? To a world that existed before the coastal highway was even built? He shook his skull again, the question ricocheting through his mind without finding a place to land.
The ocean roared below, each wave crashing against the rocks with a force that reminded him of the impact he should have felt but didn’t. He had driven off a cliff just like this one, but instead of a quick end, he found himself here, in a place that didn’t make sense. A place where the sky was too blue, the clouds too white, and the reality too stark to be anything but a dream—or a nightmare.
He closed his eyes, though there was nothing to close, and tried to remember what it felt like to be alive. To be warm, to have a heartbeat, to breathe without thinking about it. But the memories were slippery, fading faster than he could grasp them. What had his life been, really? A series of disappointments? Chelsea’s betrayal, the band that never made it, the dead-end job as a vet’s assistant—not even the vet, just the assistant. His life had been a series of almosts, a collection of might-have-beens that never panned out.
And now, what was he? A skeleton, walking through a world that felt more like a parody of life than anything real. The thought filled him with a deep, hollow emptiness, like a well with no bottom. There was no purpose here, no reason for him to be. He wasn’t a hero or a villain, just a lost soul in a body that shouldn’t exist.
He knocked on his ribs again, the sound echoing in the quiet evening air. It was absurd, all of it. The more he thought about it, the more it felt like a punishment. But for what? What had he done to deserve this? He couldn’t think of anything, yet here he was, sitting on the edge of the world, staring out at a sea that never ended, in a body that wasn’t his, in a time and place that didn’t feel real.
Maybe this was it. Maybe this was his afterlife, not in some grand heaven or hell, but here, in this endless loop of nothingness. A place where the only constant was the sound of the waves and the vast emptiness that filled him. He was being punished, he realized, not for anything he’d done, but for who he was—or wasn’t. For the life he’d never lived, the dreams he’d never chased, the love he’d never held onto.
The ocean seemed to mock him, its relentless waves a reminder that no matter how far he walked, how long he sat there, nothing would change. He was stuck, caught between life and death, between a world he knew and one he couldn’t understand.
Evan let out a sigh, the breath rattling through his ribs. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the cliffs. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, didn’t care. Time didn’t seem to matter anymore. Nothing did. He was just a skeleton, bones and rags, sitting on the edge of a cliff, staring out at a sea that went on forever.
He didn’t know what he was waiting for, if he was waiting for anything at all. The hours dragged on, the light fading, and the waves kept crashing, endlessly, mercilessly, against the rocks below.
This was his reality now. Not a new beginning, not an adventure, just an endless, hollow existence in a world that had no place for him. A mockery of the life he’d once had, and a reflection of the nothingness he’d become.
He sat there, alone, watching the sun finally dip below the horizon, leaving the world in darkness. The waves kept crashing, and the wind kept blowing, and Evan—dead and alive all at once—kept staring out into the void, waiting for nothing.
Evan sat motionless at the edge of the cliff, the sun having dipped below the horizon, leaving the world in a dusky twilight. The sound of the waves crashing against the jagged rocks below was a constant, rhythmic roar, blending with the wind as it swept across the open field. He had been there for what felt like hours, lost in the void of his thoughts, when a sudden, sharp snap of a branch broke through his reverie.
He turned his head to the right, the movement almost automatic. In the dim light, he caught sight of two figures emerging from the edge of the forest. They were boys—young, maybe one ten years old and the other twelve, if he had to guess. They were roughhousing, shoving each other as they walked, their voices carrying on the wind as they argued.
“Mom’s going to be mad if we’re late again,” the younger boy said, his voice tinged with worry.
“Who cares?” the older one retorted, pushing his brother playfully. “We can say we got caught up with chores. She’ll believe it.”
They looked like brothers, their faces bearing a strong resemblance, with the same dark hair and sharp eyes. They wore clothes typical of the region, or at least what Evan assumed was typical now that he was getting a better sense of his surroundings. Loose-fitting shirts with simple patterns, trousers tucked into sturdy leather boots, and over their shoulders, they each had a small satchel, likely carrying whatever they’d gathered from the woods. Their clothing was practical, designed for the countryside—nothing fancy, just durable and functional.
Evan’s mind raced. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t let them see him like this—animated skeletons weren’t exactly a common sight where he was from, and he doubted that had changed here. Before he could think further, he made a decision. He let himself fall sideways, hitting the ground with a dull thud, and went limp. He didn’t move a muscle—well, a bone, technically. He just lay there, hoping against hope that they’d just pass by without noticing him.
But of course, his sudden collapse had caught the attention of the older boy. The roughhousing stopped, and Evan could hear their conversation as they came to an abrupt halt.
“Did you see that?” the older boy asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and confusion.
“See what?” the younger boy replied, sounding more annoyed than anything.
“Over there, by the cliff. I swear I saw something move.”
Evan lay perfectly still, his breath—or whatever semblance of breath he had—held tight. He could hear the older boy dragging his younger brother closer, despite the younger’s protests.
“Come on, let’s just go home,” the younger boy whined. “We’re already late, and if we don’t hurry, we’ll miss dinner.”
“No, wait,” the older boy insisted, tugging his brother forward. “I saw something, I’m sure of it. It looked like… I don’t know, like bones or something.”
The two boys approached cautiously, the older one leading, his eyes wide with curiosity. The younger boy followed reluctantly, his gaze darting nervously from the trees to the cliff’s edge, clearly more interested in leaving than in investigating.
As they drew closer, Evan could feel the earth shifting slightly under their feet, the faint tremor of their approach resonating through his bones. He resisted every instinct to move, to flee, knowing that any sudden action might draw more attention. The last thing he wanted was for these kids to start poking and prodding at him.
They stopped a few feet away, and Evan could sense them staring down at his motionless form.
“It’s just bones,” the younger boy said, his voice a mix of relief and disappointment. “Probably from some animal that fell almost off the cliff.”
“No way,” the older boy replied, squatting down to get a better look. “These are too big to be from an animal… and look, they’re wearing clothes!”
“Let’s just go,” the younger boy urged, tugging at his brother’s sleeve. “We’re going to get in trouble if we stay out here.”
But the older boy was too intrigued to listen. He reached out tentatively, as if debating whether to touch Evan or not. “I think… I think this might have been a person,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “But how did it end up like this?”
Evan could feel the boy’s hand hovering just above him, the warmth of his skin radiating against the coldness of his bones. Panic surged through him—what if the boy tried to shake him, to see if there was any life left? His mind raced, trying to come up with a way to stay motionless, to avoid detection.
“Don’t touch it!” the younger boy hissed, stepping back. “What if it’s one of the undead? You know what Mom said—never mess with the dead!”
The older boy hesitated, his hand wavering in the air. “But what if it’s not? What if it’s just bones?”
“What if it is?” the younger boy shot back, fear edging into his voice. “You remember what they say—if you mess with the undead, they might rise again! Or worse, they could curse you.”
Evan could feel the tension between the two brothers, the older one torn between curiosity and the creeping fear instilled by old wives’ tales. The younger boy was visibly nervous, casting wary glances at the skeleton lying before them. He seemed ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, and Evan hoped he would drag his brother with him.
“I’m telling you, I saw it move,” the older boy insisted, but there was uncertainty in his voice now. “But… maybe you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t mess with it.”
The younger boy seized on this hesitation. “Yeah, let’s just go. It’s probably nothing, just some old bones. We’ll be late, and you know how Mom gets when we’re late.”
The older boy finally relented, though not without one last, lingering look at Evan’s prone form. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”
Evan breathed an internal sigh of relief, though it didn’t do much to ease the tension coiled in his bones. He could feel the boys stepping away, their voices growing fainter as they retreated.
But then, as they were just about to leave, the older boy turned back. “But what if we could make it rise?” he asked, more to himself than to his brother.
The younger boy looked horrified. “Are you crazy? We’re not necromancers! Besides, you’re not supposed to play with the dead.”
The older boy’s eyes shone with a mix of fear and excitement. “I know, I know… but what if we could? Just to see. You remember what Old Man Corvus said about the cemetery—how the dead sometimes rise if you say the right words?”
“That’s just a story,” the younger boy insisted, tugging his brother away. “Come on, let’s go before something bad happens.”
Evan’s mind raced. What if the older boy tried to perform some ritual? What if it actually worked? The thought sent a chill through him—he had no idea what kind of magic or power existed in this world, but he wasn’t about to find out the hard way.
To his immense relief, the younger boy finally managed to pull his brother away. “Fine, fine,” the older boy grumbled, casting one last glance at Evan before following his brother. “But I’m telling you, it moved. I swear it did.”
They walked away, their footsteps fading into the distance, leaving Evan lying there, utterly still. He listened as their voices grew fainter, carried away by the wind. It was only when he was certain they were far enough that he dared to move again.
Slowly, cautiously, he turned his head, watching as the boys walked off into the distance. The younger one was still casting nervous glances back in his direction, his eyes wide with fear. But he kept walking, unwilling to leave his brother behind, even as his unease grew.
Evan didn’t move again until the boys were almost out of sight, their figures shrinking into the twilight. Just as he turned his head to watch them disappear, the younger boy glanced back one last time—and froze. Even from this distance, Evan could see the boy’s eyes widen in horror as he realized what he was seeing.
The boy stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth opening in a silent scream. He stared at Evan, his gaze locked on the skull that had just turned to watch him. For several long, tense moments, the boy didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Then, as if breaking out of a trance, he stumbled backward, his face pale, his eyes darting wildly between Evan and the path ahead.
The older boy noticed his brother’s sudden stop and turned around, frowning. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, but the younger boy didn’t respond. He just kept staring, his terror palpable even from a distance.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Come on,” the older boy said, grabbing his brother’s arm and pulling him forward. “It’s just bones. Let’s go.”
But the younger boy couldn’t tear his eyes away from Evan. Even as his brother dragged him along, he kept looking back, his expression one of pure fear. With each step, he seemed to expect Evan to rise up, to chase after them, to do something that would confirm all his worst fears.
Evan just watched them go, a strange mix of emotions churning within him. The fact that these kids—children who seemed completely at home in this world—would stop to inspect a skeleton and talk about it as if
it was a normal, if slightly unsettling, occurrence, drove home the fact that this place was nothing like Earth. No children on Earth played with skeletons, debated whether they could raise the dead, or casually mentioned necromancers as if they were just another part of life.
This was a different world. A different time. Maybe both.
As the boys finally disappeared into the distance, Evan slowly pulled himself up, his limbs stiff from the prolonged stillness. The sun was almost gone now, the sky a deep, velvety purple, and the first stars were beginning to twinkle above. The waves below continued their relentless assault on the rocks, the sound a constant reminder of how far he was from anything familiar.
Evan stood there for a long time, staring after the boys, trying to process what had just happened. They had seen him, poked at him, debated his existence—and then walked away as if it was all part of a strange, magical world that was completely normal to them.
And maybe it was.
He wasn’t sure what to make of it. The thought that he might actually be in another world, in a place where skeletons could walk and children discussed necromancers, was both terrifying and oddly liberating. If this wasn’t Earth, then maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t bound by the rules of his old life. Maybe he could find a new purpose here, something more than the hollow existence he’d left behind.
Or maybe this was just another form of punishment, a continuation of the mockery his life had become.
The wind picked up, tugging at his tattered rags, and Evan turned his gaze back to the sea. The endless horizon stretched out before him, a vast, unknowable expanse that mirrored the uncertainty of his new existence.
He had no answers, no clear path forward, but he knew one thing for certain: this was his reality now. And whether it was a second chance or just another cruel joke, he had to keep moving. He had to find out what this world held for him, what it wanted from him.
Evan stood still for a long time after the boys had gone, the world around him slowly slipping into the deep blue of twilight. The stars began to wink into existence above, scattered across the sky like tiny, distant lanterns, while the sea below continued its rhythmic assault on the jagged cliffs. He could still hear the boys’ voices in his head, their words echoing in the vast emptiness of his mind. They had spoken of necromancers, of the undead as if these were everyday things—nothing to be feared, just a curiosity to be poked and prodded at.
This was not Earth. That much was clear. But what exactly was this place?
He glanced in the direction the boys had gone, the faint sound of their footsteps now long gone, swallowed by the night. The forest from which they had emerged lay behind him, dark and foreboding, but in front of him, the path stretched into the unknown. Somewhere beyond that path, the boys were heading home, to a place where they were expected, to a life that made sense to them, even if it didn’t to him.
Evan’s mind churned with questions, but one thought stood out above the rest: If those boys had come from somewhere, that meant there was a town nearby, a settlement of some kind. And if there was a town, then maybe—just maybe—he could find some answers. Answers to why he was here, why he was still walking around when he should have been dead. Answers that might help him understand this world and the strange new rules that governed it.
His bones creaked as he pushed himself forward, the night air cool against the tattered rags that clung to his skeletal frame. He hesitated, looking back at the cliff, at the endless sea that stretched out beneath the moonlit sky. Part of him wanted to stay, to sit and contemplate his strange existence, but another part of him—a part that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever—felt the stirrings of curiosity. He wanted to know more, to see more.
So, with a final glance at the cliff, he turned and began walking in the direction the boys had gone. The path was faint, barely more than a trail through the grass, but it was enough to follow. His feet made soft, hollow clacks against the ground as he walked, the sound almost comforting in the stillness of the night.
The terrain began to slope gently upward, the path winding between low hills. As he walked, he kept his mind as empty as possible, focusing only on the rhythm of his steps, the feel of the earth beneath him. The last thing he wanted was to let his thoughts spiral out of control again, to get lost in the endless questions with no answers.
After what felt like an eternity, he crested the top of a hill and paused, looking out over the landscape that spread before him. The moon had risen higher in the sky, casting a pale, silvery light over everything. The stars twinkled brightly, more than he had ever seen in the city skies back on Earth. But it wasn’t the sky that held his attention.
There, nestled in a shallow valley, was a city—a real, living city. It was nothing like the urban sprawl he was used to, with its towering skyscrapers and endless streets. This place was smaller, more compact, but no less beautiful. In fact, it was stunning.
The city was laid out in a series of concentric circles, with narrow, winding streets radiating out from a central plaza. The buildings were made of stone and wood, their roofs steep and sloping, covered in what looked like red clay tiles. Many of the houses had ivy creeping up their walls, and from where he stood, Evan could see the soft glow of lanterns hanging outside doorways, casting warm, inviting light into the night.
To his left, the path dipped down to meet a small road, worn down by years of travel. There were no tire treads, just the unmistakable marks of hooves and the deep ruts left by wagon wheels. The road was ancient, but well-maintained, and it led straight to the city gates, which were tall and imposing, made of thick wood reinforced with iron.
Standing at the edge of the road was a wooden sign, staked into the ground by two sturdy poles. It was beautifully crafted, the wood polished to a smooth finish, and the letters carved into it were intricate and elegant. Evan stared at the sign, his mind trying to process what he was seeing. The letters were not in English—he knew that much. They were some other language, something foreign and strange.
And yet, as he looked at them, the meaning became clear to him, as if the words were being whispered directly into his mind.
Windmere.
He blinked, though he wasn’t sure how he managed it without eyelids. What the fuck was going on? He could read the sign, understand the words, but they weren’t in any language he had ever seen before. The realization made his empty skull ache, a dull, throbbing pain that seemed to radiate through his very bones. How was this possible? How could he read a language he didn’t know? Nothing made sense anymore.
He turned his gaze back to the city, trying to push the questions from his mind. The gates stood open, and beyond them, he could see the bustling activity of a city that didn’t sleep. People moved through the streets, their figures illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. The city itself was bathed in moonlight, the buildings casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. From this distance, it was almost too perfect, too serene—a picturesque scene straight out of a fantasy novel.
The central plaza was dominated by a tall, elegant tower, its spire reaching high into the sky, where it seemed to touch the stars themselves. The tower was capped with a shining beacon, its light sweeping across the surrounding landscape, guiding travelers to the city’s gates. Evan realized with a start that this must be the Windspire, the lighthouse he had heard about in the boys’ conversation. It was both a symbol of the city and a vital part of its defense, standing watch over the harbor that lay just beyond the city’s walls.
To the right of the plaza, he could make out the faint glimmer of the sea, the waves crashing against the harbor walls with a steady, rhythmic sound that carried even to where he stood. The harbor itself was a marvel of engineering, a natural inlet that provided shelter to ships even in the fiercest of storms. He could see the masts of ships swaying gently in the water, their sails furled, their decks lit by the soft glow of lanterns.
The city was alive with activity, even at this late hour. Merchants peddled their wares in the market square, their stalls overflowing with goods from all corners of the continent. The air was filled with the scent of exotic spices, freshly baked bread, and the salty tang of the sea. In the distance, he could hear the faint strains of music, the sound of a lute or harp being played somewhere in the city, accompanied by the soft murmur of voices.
It was beautiful—achingly so. But as Evan stood there, staring down at Windmere, he felt a growing sense of dread. This city was a place of life, of people who went about their business without a second thought. What would they do if they saw him? A walking, talking skeleton, dressed in rags and covered in moss and dirt? The thought made his bones shiver, and he took an involuntary step back.
He glanced at the sign again, the name Windmere etched into the wood like a brand on his consciousness. This was no place for him. Not like this. But what choice did he have? He needed answers, and he wasn’t going to find them sitting on the edge of a cliff, staring out at the sea.
But he couldn’t just walk down into the city as he was. If those boys had reacted the way they did, he could only imagine how the adults would respond. They would see him as a monster, a threat, something to be destroyed. And he couldn’t blame them. He would have done the same in their place.
The city looked so inviting, so full of life under the moonlight and stars, but it was a life he couldn’t be a part of. Not like this. The realization hit him like a blow, a deep, hollow emptiness that resonated through his very bones. He wasn’t just a stranger here—he was something that didn’t belong, something that had no place in this world.
He took a few steps back, retreating into the shadows cast by the trees. The city was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t for him. Not yet. He had to find another way, some way to understand what had happened to him, why he was here, why he was still… alive? Dead? He didn’t even know anymore. But he couldn’t just walk into Windmere as he was, a walking skeleton with no answers and no purpose.
Evan stood there for a long time, staring at the city, his mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The moon rose higher, casting a silvery glow over everything, but the city seemed no closer, no more attainable. It was like looking at a painting, something beautiful and distant, something that he could never truly touch.
He didn’t know what to do. For the first time since he had woken up in this strange, impossible world, he felt completely lost. No, not lost—trapped. Trapped in a body that wasn’t his, in a world that made no sense, with no way forward and no way back.
He took a deep, shuddering breath—or at least the semblance of one—and turned away from the city, back toward the darkened forest. The boys had gone this way, and if there was a town, there might be other settlements nearby. Places where he could find shelter, hide, and maybe figure out what had happened to him. He couldn’t stay here, staring at a city he couldn’t enter, at a life he could never have.
But even as he turned away, something inside him rebelled against the idea of running. This was his reality now, whether he liked it or not. He couldn’t hide forever. Eventually, he would have to face this world, find his place in it—if there was a place for him at all.
He glanced back at Windmere one last time, the city glowing softly under the light of the moon, the Windspire’s beacon sweeping across the landscape like a silent sentinel. He didn’t have the answers he needed, but he knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t Earth.
Evan had just turned away from the mesmerizing view of Windmere, the city bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight and stars, when he began his slow descent back into the darkened forest. His skeletal feet crunched softly on the fallen leaves as he made his way toward the shadows of the trees. Every step felt heavy, not from the weight of his bones, but from the confusion and uncertainty that clung to him like a shroud. The city had been beautiful, but it was clear to him that he didn’t belong there. Not like this. Not as a walking skeleton with no answers.
He had only taken a few steps into the tree line when a voice, sudden and sharp, cut through the silence of his thoughts.
“Why in the fuck are you leaving the city?”
Evan froze, his non-existent heart seeming to skip a beat. The voice wasn’t his own, but it was inside his head. It was rich with disdain, laced with irritation, and unmistakably belonged to someone else. It sounded as if came from an erratic noble.
“Who said that?” Evan muttered, his voice shaky, as he spun around, half-expecting to see someone standing behind him. But there was no one. Just the trees, the path, and the distant hum of the ocean. His mind raced, trying to make sense of it. He was alone. He had been alone.
“Oh, wonderful. You’re an idiot too,” the voice said, dripping with sarcasm. “I’m in your head, you fool. Stop looking around like a lost puppy.”
Evan felt a chill crawl up his spine—if he could still call it that. “In my head?” he echoed aloud, more to himself than to the voice. This had to be some kind of hallucination. But why would a skeleton hallucinate? Could he even hallucinate?
“Yes, in your head,” the voice snapped. “And might I ask why you’re walking away from the city? The one place with people, information, perhaps even answers to whatever sad predicament you find yourself in? Instead, you’re slinking back into the forest like a coward.”
Evan’s mind was spinning. He had no idea what was happening. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice louder now, laced with frustration and fear. “And what do you mean, in my head?”
There was a moment of silence, then the voice replied, slower this time, as if speaking to a particularly dense child. “I am Lord Malakar Vynthar. I’m the other soul that’s been fighting over this… body. The one you seem to be in control of, for now.”
“Other soul?” Evan repeated, trying to grasp the concept. His mind was still struggling to catch up with everything that had happened. He remembered dying—after that, everything was a blur, just vague images and feelings he couldn’t quite piece together.
“Yes, other soul,” Malakar said, impatience clear in his tone. “We fought, and unfortunately for me, you won the rights over this body. So now, I’m stuck in here, just along for the ride, it seems.”
Evan’s mind was a foggy mess. “I don’t remember… I mean, I remember some things, but…” He tried to focus, to sift through the hazy memories, but it was like trying to catch smoke with his hands. There had been something—some kind of message, maybe? Or symbols? But it was all too vague, too elusive to pin down. He shook his head, feeling more lost than ever. “No, I don’t remember what happened between the deaths.”
Malakar let out a long, suffering sigh, the kind that someone makes when they’re explaining something to a complete moron. “Figures. You were probably too busy dying to notice the important bits. But here’s the gist: we were on our way back to Udanara, our souls, and I tried to claim your body. You, somehow, managed to overpower me. Now, I’m just a soul trapped in here with you, unable to do much of anything except talk. And what a conversation this is turning out to be.”
Evan’s head was spinning with the new information. “So… you’re like… stuck in here? In my head?”
“Yes, genius, that’s what I just said,” Malakar replied, his voice laced with condescension. “And now, I’m at the mercy of your decisions. Which, judging by your current actions, are utterly idiotic. Why are you walking away from Windmere? You need answers, don’t you? I can’t get them for you if you keep dragging us back into the wilderness.”
Evan opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and he realized, with a start, that Malakar wasn’t responding to them directly. He was only answering what Evan said aloud. “Wait… you can’t hear what I’m thinking?”
“No, I can’t,” Malakar replied, sounding mildly offended at the idea. “We may be sharing the same body, but our minds are separate. If you want to talk to me, you’ll have to do it out loud.”
Evan’s confusion deepened. He stood there, on the edge of the forest, feeling utterly ridiculous as he tried to process the situation. Here he was, a skeleton, apparently possessed by the soul of some ancient dark lord, standing alone in the woods, talking to himself.
“Well, that’s just great,” Evan muttered, rubbing his temple out of habit, even though there was no muscle to tense. “I’m talking to myself now.”
“You’re talking to me,” Malakar corrected. “And might I add, you’re doing a terrible job of it. Let’s focus on the task at hand, shall we? You’re standing on the border of a city—one that likely holds the answers you’re looking for. But instead of investigating, you’re turning tail and running back into the woods. Not exactly what I’d call a brilliant strategy.”
Evan sighed, though it came out as more of a hollow whistle. “I can’t just walk into a city full of people like this!” He gestured to his skeletal form. “They’d see me as some kind of monster. They’d probably try to kill me!”
“Ah, yes, I see your point,” Malakar mused, his tone thoughtful for once. “It would be difficult to blend in, wouldn’t it? Especially in a place like Windmere. They’re a bit more civilized than the backwater villages of Darvok, but still, they don’t take kindly to the undead wandering around without permission.”
Evan felt a surge of frustration. “Then what do you suggest I do, oh wise and powerful Lord Malakar? I don’t exactly have a lot of options here.”
Malakar didn’t respond immediately, and Evan could almost feel him pondering the situation. “We need to be strategic about this. If we can find a way into the city without attracting attention, we might be able to gather information. There are bound to be mages or scholars in Windmere who could help us—well, help me—figure out a solution to our current predicament. But we have to be careful. The last thing we need is a mob coming after us with torches and pitchforks.”
Evan ran a bony hand over his face, or where his face used to be. “This is insane,” he muttered. “I’m a skeleton, talking to some… dark lord in my head, trying to figure out how to sneak into a city that probably wants to kill me on sight. What the hell happened to my life?”
“You died,” Malakar said, not unkindly. “From the sounds of it. But look on the bright side—you’re not dead now. Not completely. And as long as you’re… well, ‘alive,’ you can still make something of yourself. Even if it’s just avoiding getting killed again.”
Evan let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, thanks for the pep talk.” He stood there for a moment, weighing his options. Malakar had a point—he needed answers, and Windmere was the only place nearby that could provide them. But how was he supposed to get in without drawing attention?
As he pondered this, he realized something else. “Wait a minute. If you’re in my head, why can’t you just take over? Why do I have to do all the talking?”
Malakar’s voice took on a bitter edge. “Believe me, if I could, I would. But as I said, you won control over the body. For now, I’m just a passenger. I can’t control anything—can’t move, can’t speak directly. I’m stuck in here, dependent on you to do all the heavy lifting.”
“That must really suck for you,” Evan said dryly, though he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of satisfaction at the thought.
“You have no idea,” Malakar replied, his voice dripping with bitterness. “But don’t let that go to your head. We’re in this together now, whether we like it or not. So, let’s make the best of it, shall we?”
Evan sighed again, realizing that there was no way around it. He was going to have to figure out a way into Windmere, whether he liked it or not. But the idea of strolling into a city full of people—people who might attack him on sight—filled him with dread.
Still, standing there in the dark forest wasn’t going to solve anything. “Alright,” he said aloud, feeling more than a little ridiculous. “Let’s head back to the city and see if we can find a way in. But we’re going to do it carefully. No charging in like some kind of... well, like some kind of dark lord.”
“Careful? You?” Malakar scoffed. “Now this I’ve got to see. Lead the way, oh mighty master of caution.”
Evan ignored the sarcasm and turned back toward the path leading down to Windmere. The city lights twinkled invitingly in the distance, but they seemed a world away, separated by more than just the stretch of road. As he walked, he felt a strange mix of fear and determination. He was no longer in control of his own fate, but he wasn’t powerless either.
Step by step, he made his way back down the hill, his mind racing with a thousand questions and doubts. He had no idea what he was going to do once he got there, but at least he wasn’t completely alone. Even if his only companion was an ancient, power-hungry soul trapped in his head, it was better than facing this strange new world completely on his own.
The city loomed closer with every step, its walls and buildings becoming more defined in the moonlight. Evan could hear the distant hum of activity, the sounds of life continuing on even as the night deepened. It was a world that made no sense to him, a place where he was a stranger, an intruder.
But it was also the only place that held the answers he needed. And no matter how terrified he was, no matter how impossible the task seemed, he knew he had to try.
He reached the edge of the woods, the path widening into the road that led to the city gates. He could see the sign again, Windmere carved into the wood, and the sight made his skull ache with a mixture of fear and hope.
“Alright, Malakar,” Evan muttered under his breath as he stood at the border of the woods, staring at the city. “Let’s see if we can figure this out. But no funny business, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Malakar replied smoothly, though there was a hint of mischief in his tone that made Evan’s bones rattle.
With a deep, shuddering breath—one he didn’t need but felt compelled to take—Evan stepped onto the road leading to Windmere, his mind a whirl of thoughts, plans, and fears. The city awaited, full of dangers and possibilities, and as he walked toward it, he knew that whatever happened next would change everything.