Thorian lay on the cold stone floor, his body weak and trembling. His vision was blurred, and his thoughts were clouded with exhaustion, yet one thing remained sharp in his mind. The dream.

He had felt it so vividly, living the life of another man in a world far different from his own. A world without the constant fear of magic or monsters, a world where life was kinder, gentler. Yet, despite the safety, that man had chosen a path of hardship.

Takashi Mura. Thorian had felt every moment of the man's life, the dedication to his craft, the blisters and bruises earned from countless hours of practice with a sword, the endless ridicule from those who thought his obsession with an outdated art was pointless. And still, Takashi persevered, not because it was easy, but because it was hard. It gave his life meaning. He had become the best, a champion, only to have it all taken from him by those in power, changing the rules to suit their whims.

The dream had felt like a lifetime, yet it ended in an instant, with Takashi sacrificing himself for another. His final act, being one of selflessness.

As Thorian stirred, pushing himself up from the cold stone, the weight of those memories still lingered in his mind. They weren’t his memories. He knew that. And yet, they had left a mark on his soul. His body ached as if it had lived through Takashi’s hardships, and his mind buzzed with the lingering echoes of that distant life. He rose shakily, his muscles weak but his will strong, driven by something deeper than exhaustion.

He wasn’t Takashi Mura, but for a fleeting moment, he had understood him. Understood what it meant to never give up, even when everything was stripped away.

Thorian's gaze flicked to the still form of the skeleton, standing motionless in the dim light. It was an eerie sight, yet one he had grown somewhat accustomed to in this twisted dungeon. The undead, created by dark wizards, were little more than mindless drones once their creators were gone, standing idle until the magic within them slowly faded.

Now that his exhaustion had eased, he squinted into the darkness, his eyes adjusting to the dim, flickering light of the chamber. The room was littered with the remains of the dark wizards, now piles of shredded, pulped bodies, their black robes soaked in blood. A clear sign of the ritual's failure. The summoning had gone horribly wrong, and it had cost them their lives in a gruesome backlash.

But more disturbing were the bodies of his loyal guards: Thabian, Gideon, and Limar. Their throats were slit, their blood used to fuel the summoning circle drawn beneath his feet. The sight of their lifeless forms filled him with a hollow emptiness. They had pledged themselves to him, despite his tarnished reputation, and now they were dead because of him.

The room was silent, save for his shallow breathing. His hands trembled as he surveyed the carnage, but there was no time for mourning. Not yet. His eyes caught sight of an extinguished torch lying on the ground, and he carefully made his way to it. Pouring a sliver of his dwindling magic into the wood, the torch flared to life, casting a brighter glow across the cavern. The light revealed more of the grotesque scene, but Thorian’s gaze quickly shifted back to the still-standing skeleton.

It hadn’t moved since he had woken up, but something about it unnerved him. He couldn’t leave it there, not knowing if it might turn feral and attack later. His feet felt heavy as he approached the undead, wary but resolute. Reaching out cautiously, he touched the skeleton’s skull.

The moment his fingers made contact, a strange sensation coursed through him. Magic, raw and hungry, surged between them, pulling from him like water to a parched land. Thorian gasped, trying to pull back, but something deep within him whispered that this was necessary. His body didn’t resist.

A blue orb, much like the one that housed his own soul. Slowly drifted out from his chest, floating along the current of magic that now connected him to the skeleton. There was no pain, or at least none that Thorian recognised as pain anymore. Perhaps he had grown numb to it in that moment that felt like eternity under an omnipotent gaze, or maybe he had become something else altogether. Either way, the orb travelled into the skeleton, disappearing into the hollow of its skull.

The skeleton jerked, its empty eyes flaring with a new light. This one is a vibrant blue, replacing the dead purple that once flowed within. Thorian took a step back, his heart racing as the undead creature turned its head to face him, its bony fingers twitching.

Shock, if that was even possible for a skeleton, seemed to register in its posture. And then a voice, clear and distinct, echoed in Thorian’s mind. It wasn’t his own.

"Hey, kid… Are you alright?"

Thorian froze. The voice was soft, weary, but concerned. He looked around wildly, expecting someone else to be in the room, but there was no one. His gaze snapped back to the skeleton. Its hollow eyes seemed to lock onto him with intent, as though waiting for a response.

"Who... are you?" Thorian’s voice was hoarse, dry from the ordeal. His fingers gripped the gently glowing torch; it would have to do as a weapon.

The skeleton’s jaw moved, though no sound came from its mouth. The voice remained in Thorian’s head. "I was someone once. My name was Takashi Mura. But… I don’t know what I am anymore." It looked down at its now boney visage.

Takashi Mura. The name hit Thorian like a hammer. The dream, the life he had witnessed in those strange moments of unconsciousness. The man who had sacrificed everything. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

"Takashi Mura," Thorian repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "The man from my dream."

The skeleton tilted its head, its movements still awkward, like someone relearning how to use their body. "Dream?" The voice sounded confused, as though sifting through fragments of memories. "I... I don’t remember a dream. I only remember... dying. But I know you, don’t I?"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Thorian took a step back, his mind spinning. This skeleton, this undead creature. Was now speaking to him with the voice of a man he had never met but somehow knew intimately.

"How are you here?" Thorian asked, his grip tightening on his sword.

The skeleton’s eyes dimmed slightly, as if lost in thought. "I don’t know," the voice admitted. "But I think... you brought me here."

Just as Thorian’s mind whirled with questions, a faint tremor shook the chamber, reminding him that whatever had caused the summoning disaster might not be over. There was no time to dwell on the impossible.

"We need to leave," Thorian said, more to himself than to the skeleton.

But as he turned toward the chamber's exit, the voice spoke again, calm yet steady.

"Wherever you go, I’ll follow, kid. You and I... I think we’re connected now."

Thorian glanced back at the skeleton. His heart was heavy, but his path had been decided. Whatever strange connection had formed between them, he could feel the presence of Takashi’s soul now bound to his own, a companion in this strange, twisted world.

And perhaps, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

After all, was there anyone you could trust more than a man whom you knew better than themselves?

Thorian and Takashi Mura made their way toward the cave’s exit, the distant hope of escape driving them forward. But as they reached the tunnel, their hope shattered. The path was completely blocked, buried under a collapsed wall of stone. Boulders stacked high, dirt packed between the cracks, sealing them inside.

Thorian’s legs buckled beneath him as despair flooded his veins. He collapsed to his knees, the pain shooting through his weakened body, but it was nothing compared to the weight crushing his heart. There was no way out. Everything was closing in. His failure, his weakness, the suffocating silence that followed. He didn't care anymore. The pain, the bruises, the exhaustion. It all blended into the void that swallowed his will to fight.

Takashi, however, did not pause. The skeleton stepped forward, examining the rocks. With a determination that belied his unnatural body, he began to move boulders, his bony hands straining against the weight of the stones. Each movement was slow but deliberate, as though the task was more than physical labour. It was almost hope itself. Mura strained to move the first stone, dragging it a few inches before repositioning himself for the next attempt. The sound of scraping rock filled the cavern.

Thorian could only slump against the cave wall, his chest tight as he tried to suppress the sobs that clawed at his throat. But he couldn't hold them back any longer. He wrapped his arms around his chest and cried. He cried for the dead men, for his own worthlessness, for the endless spiral of mistakes that had led him here. He had failed everyone who had ever trusted him, and now, in this cold, suffocating tomb, there was no escape from the truth.

Hearing the quiet sobs, Takashi Mura stopped moving. He turned slowly, his glowing blue eyes softening as they fell upon the broken boy. Thorian’s cries echoed in the cave, sharp and painful, but Takashi understood. He had seen it all. The boy’s life, his struggles, his loneliness. It had come to him the same way Thorian had experienced his own memories. Like a story read aloud, not lived but felt all the same. He kneeled before the boy, lowering himself so they were face to face.

“It’s okay,” Mura said gently, his voice quiet in Thorian’s mind, though his bony form showed no emotion. His skeletal hand rested on the boy’s shoulder, light and careful, as though to anchor him.

Thorian looked up, his tear-streaked face filled with despair. His voice was raw, barely above a whisper, but filled with the weight of a lifetime of pain. “No, it’s not,” he rasped. “I’ve seen you. What you’ve done, who you are. Your kindness, your strength. And it’s only made me realise that I’m unworthy. Those three men are now dead: Thabian, Gideon, and Limar. They were more than I will ever be. I’ve never thought about anyone else in my entire life. No one ever taught me how.”

His words hit the air like lead, sinking between them. Takashi could see it, the guilt and shame that twisted the boy’s heart. It was an existential crisis, one born of his youth and the unimaginable burden that had been placed on his shoulders out of nowhere. The boy had lived a life of isolation, of survival amongst a dozen siblings who all would kill him at the first sign he was a threat. But now, faced with real loss and his own failures, he couldn’t reconcile the person he had been with the person he wanted to become.

Mura understood. It was the burden of self-awareness, the painful realisation of one’s flaws, one’s inadequacies of how powerless they truly were. And yet, he knew that the storm Thorian was facing would fade with time, just as it had for him.

“You know,” Takashi began, his voice calm and even, “there was once a great man in my world. A philosopher. And do you know what he said?”

Thorian shook his head, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“He asked, Which is the better man? One who is just good, who has never even thought of evil and has no concept of wrongdoing? Or one who, when finding out who they are, decides to change? Someone who, despite having done bad things, wants to be good. Who has seen the true darkness that blankets the world and wants to uncover just a small part of it?”

Thorian blinked, the words sinking in slowly. He wasn’t sure if he could believe them. “But… I’ve done terrible things. I’ve never been good. I’ve always just... survived and put others down.”

Takashi nodded. “That’s what makes you human. You’re not worthless, Thorian. You’re simply misguided. The fact that you’re even thinking this way shows that you’re feeling remorse. It is proof enough for me that you can change. It won’t be easy, and you might stumble along the way, but the world... has a way of teaching lessons to those who need them.”

The boy’s breath was still shaky, but the sobs had subsided. He looked down, his hands shaking in his lap. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Maybe not yet,” Takashi said, “but give it time. You’re young, and life has a way of shaping us. Just don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even started.”

Thorian didn’t respond right away. He just sat there, staring at his hands, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him. He had spent so long being selfish, thinking only of his survival, that the idea of change felt impossible. But now, looking at the skeleton before him. At the man who had sacrificed everything for others. He wondered if he could try. If he could be different.

Mura patted his shoulder gently. “Now rest,” he said. “You’re exhausted. Let me try to get us out of here.”

Thorian didn’t argue. He nodded, leaning back against the wall, his body aching in ways that went beyond the physical. His eyes closed, the tears still fresh on his face, but the weight on his heart had lessened, if only slightly.

Takashi turned back to the tunnel, his bony hands once again gripping the stones. He knew it would take time, perhaps longer than Thorian realised. But change was possible. He’d seen it before in his own world. And in this boy, in the midst of all the darkness, he saw a flicker of hope.

He might as well help this child until he could figure out what was going on.

As the skeleton worked in silence, the echo of Thorian’s quiet breathing filled the chamber, the first sound of peace they had shared since awakening in this twisted dungeon.

Yet in the very recesses of both their minds were countless voices, incessantly whispering.