Chapter 1: New Home

At the foot of a barren little hill, Wade dug out the gravel beneath his feet shovel by shovel, piling the soil into a small mound that had already reached the height of his shin bone. Without a pocket watch to keep time, he couldn’t tell exactly how long he’d been digging, but it felt like quite a while – the hole before him had expanded significantly, growing from a small bucket-sized opening to something resembling a well. Just a bit more digging, and the hole would reach its intended size, completing the first step of his project.

Wade mentally planned how to renovate this cave once the digging was done. This place would likely become his future home, and one couldn’t be careless about where they slept and rested. It didn’t need to be luxurious or comfortable, but at least secure, sturdy, and reliable. He’d had some renovation ideas before starting to dig. This being his first time living in a cave, he figured he’d have to try things out firsthand to know what would make it comfortable.

But as he dug, something unexpected happened. Through the vibrations in his skeletal feet, Wade detected intermittent creaking sounds coming from ahead. Anticipating what it might be, he set down his tools and climbed up the slope to survey the endless wasteland before him. 

Just as expected – a skeleton. Pale, dry bones with flickering soul fire in its hollow eye sockets, completely naked with joints clogged with powdery sand, staggering toward Wade. This fellow looked filthy, as if it had just pried open a coffin lid and crawled out of a grave. In comparison, Wade appeared much tidier, mainly because his bones were smooth and intact without excess windblown sand. 

The most obvious difference, however, was that Wade wore equipment. On his left arm, leather straps secured a rusted small round shield slightly larger than a palm. His waist was wrapped in a linen shroud covering vital areas, and a forearm-length round-headed mace hung from his right thigh bone. Among skeletons, this counted as luxurious gear. If the approaching one resembled a foot soldier, Wade was at least a centurion by comparison. 

From any angle, Wade appeared more formidable than his approaching counterpart. Any sensible creature would keep its distance, yet this one advanced determinedly, as if Wade owed it money. Scratching his skull, Wade pondered how to deal with this approaching kin. He certainly hadn’t invited anyone to help with his work – clearly, this was trouble he needed to resolve quickly. Time waited for no one, and besides digging, he had many tasks ahead: decorating the interior, installing an entrance door. If unnecessary matters drained his energy and delayed progress, he might not finish preparing his new home before the next dormancy period.

After some thought, he set down his tools and drew the mace from his waist. For better grip, he’d wrapped the metal handle with crisscrossing cloth strips. Grasping the handle tightly with his right hand, he raised his left and waved forward – a greeting. Having no grudge against this skeleton, Wade hoped to persuade it to leave peacefully. 

Yet the skeleton reaching him remained silent, simply lunging forward. Well then, no more talking. Since you struck first, this counts as self-defense. Raising his round shield, Wade stepped forward. With a clack, the small black shield lodged in the skeleton’s mouth. Wade had long noticed other skeletons’ tendency to bite things and never let go, more stubborn than vicious dogs. This habit could be exploited to immobilize their heads. 

Once certain the skeleton’s teeth were firmly clamped on the shield’s edge, Wade adjusted the mace’s angle and swung horizontally, creating a whooshing sound. Maces were perfect weapons against skeletons – with enough force, you could punch holes in their skulls. He’d intended to smash that head to pieces, but the result surprised him. 

The mace did hit the skull, but after a dull thud, the skull separated from the spine, tracing a high arc through the air. Broken front teeth landed at Wade’s feet while the skull dropped meters away, rolling several times. The headless skeleton staggered in place, limbs flailing wildly. 

Wade hadn’t anticipated this fellow having spinal issues – its skull didn’t shatter, just got knocked off. The sight was rather comical as it foolishly collapsed like a beached fish flopping about, unable to stand. Left alone, it probably posed no threat now. But mercy to enemies is cruelty to oneself – better grant it quick release than let it struggle. 

Wade strode to the skull, crouched, turned it sideways, aimed at the temple, and brought down the heavy mace. Crack! Web-like fractures spread across the skull as the mace easily pierced the thinnest part of the temporal bone like cracking an eggshell. 

The temple is the human skull’s most fragile spot. While the thickest part can be thumb-width, the temple is only one-fifth the average skull thickness, barely thicker than an eggshell – a skeleton’s most fatal weakness. Breaking the temple creates an opening for the housed soul fire to gush out like blood from a severed artery. 

As flames spilled from the breach, Wade pressed his right palm against them, channeling the escaping soul fire into his body. Soul fire nourishes the undead – this uninvited skeleton had attacked Wade driven by instinct to consume a kin’s soul fire. Unfortunately, it failed and became Wade’s “nutrient” instead. 

Feeling the soul fire’s flow brought Wade the refreshing sensation of washing his face with hot water in deep winter. Touching his forehead, he found even the last crack “healed,” as if tempered by blacksmith’s flames. Meanwhile, the other skeleton lay motionless like a wind-up doll that had run down. 

Silence returned. Wade sheathed his weapons and quietly buried the shattered skull before looking up at the sky. A crescent moon hung in the pale gray firmament, under which scattered skeletons wandered the gravel-strewn wilderness with twisted thorns. Unlike human vision, Wade’s world consisted only of gray and white – gray sky, whiter moon. Moonlight carried magical tidal fluctuations resembling sheer veils invisible to humans but perceptible to skeletons who see with souls and sense magic more acutely. 

This sky had never seen sunrise, at least not in Wade’s memory. He deduced he was in a subspace dimension – as for why… don’t ask him; he’d like to ask someone himself. He recalled several nights ago during full moon when magic grew so dense it obscured the moon, and hundreds of skeletons emerged from earth and sand, biting ribs and kicking pelvises. Every undead Wade saw became extremely active. 

Being a civilized skeleton, Wade naturally avoided this melee, hiding in this very hole until the waning moon calmed the magic. This was his first full moon as a skeleton. Anticipating possible future chaos during full moons, he decided to expand this hole into a proper residence for safety. 

This downhill location, far from the sandy area where skeletons last emerged, was ideal – he’d searched long without finding better. Back to work now that the trouble was resolved. Picking up his homemade bone shovel (a shin bone attached to an unidentified large scale with rotting leather), he diligently widened the hole. After testing the size by crawling through, he began decorating. 

He laid collected shrouds over the cave walls, then dismantled the fallen skeleton outside for its leg bones, ribs, and arm bones. Besides this unexpected casualty, he’d prepared three other skeletons’ worth of bones as building materials. Using soul fire, he reconfigured these bones, hammering connections before placing them strategically inside. 

Like assembling blocks, the bones formed a cage-like structure in this cramped space – “beams” to reinforce the cave against collapse. Finally, he moved pre-gathered stones to block the entrance. This would be his new door – a chest-high stone perfectly sealing the opening against accidental intruders. 

Hands on hips, Wade nodded approvingly at his handiwork. Crude but functional. The aesthetic might horrify living beings – bones everywhere suggesting some cursed, evil den. But Wade wasn’t alive, and this style suited a bag of bones just fine. 

Noticing cracks on his bone shovel’s handle, Wade realized this brittle leg bone would soon snap. He discarded it, keeping only the quality scale and old leather. Ducking inside, he sat on tattered shrouds, knees hugged, admiring his new home. The cave was small – no walking around or standing comfortably, best for sitting or lying down. Still, he found it cozy – the confined space felt secure. As a child, he’d slept buried under blankets against walls, as if no monsters could threaten him in the dark. 

Amusingly, now he was the scary monster. Not necessarily bad – though dead and skeletal, optimistically speaking, he’d finally become a homeowner without mortgage. Congratulations were in order. The place might be crude now, but that could change – lay good foundations today, build a palace tomorrow. 

Sitting awhile, weariness set in. Becoming a skeleton taught him undead weren’t tireless as some legends claimed – they needed sleep too. After all this work and a fight, he was exhausted. Pulling the stone to seal the entrance, pale moonlight disappeared as grinding stone muted the howling winds outside. 

Huddled in this cramped cave listening to muffled sandstorms, Wade curled up like an infant. The flames in his eye sockets dimmed as consciousness faded. Before sleep, he briefly reviewed the day – all in all, things went smoothly with planned tasks completed. 

Goodnight, Wade. Though no sunrise comes, may tomorrow bring good fortune.

…