The rain poured down in sheets as Swift staggered through the gates of the capital. The damp stone streets shimmered beneath his feet, glistening with the cold weight of the night's storm. His breath came in short, labored gasps, and his body, though whole, felt as if it were no longer his own. The strange green veins pulsed beneath his skin, an unnatural rhythm that made his stomach churn. Whatever he had become in the hours after his death, it wasn't right.
The city of Asterholt was eerily quiet in the wake of the storm. The usual hustle of merchants and townsfolk had died down, replaced by whispers in the streets, glances over shoulders, and nervous laughter. Swift could feel the eyes upon him as he passed, the people who had once feared him now seeing a ghost. He had died in the forest. Everyone knew that. They had seen the bodies of the royal knights scattered around his grave, his sword broken in two. They had heard the stories of how Bones had torn him apart, how no man could survive such a death. And yet, here he was, walking among them.
But his return was not a triumphant one.
No, there was no joy in Swift's heart as he approached the palace. The weight of the green energy within him hung heavy, a constant reminder that he had been marked — tethered to the very monster that had killed him. The connection between him and Bones still tugged at him, faint but unyielding, like a chain pulling him towards something dark and terrible. He had to act quickly. Every second that passed brought the city closer to destruction.
At the palace gates, the guards froze when they saw him, their spears raised in alarm. They had been stationed there for hours, no doubt hearing the rumors of his death and return. But Swift did not have time for pleasantries. He had no time to explain himself to the royal guard. He pushed past them, his boots echoing on the marble floors of the palace.
"Swift?" one of the guards stammered, his voice shaky. "Is it really you?"
Swift didn't answer. His eyes were already fixed on the grand staircase that led to the throne room. The king needed to know what had happened. Swift had no choice but to face him.
As he ascended the stairs, the servants and courtiers parted for him, casting fearful glances his way. There were murmurs behind him, whispers of disbelief and confusion. The figure of Swift, once a shadowy outlaw, now returned from the dead like a revenant. The sight of him was unsettling, but more than that, it was a warning.
He reached the throne room and pushed open the heavy doors, the sound of creaking wood reverberating through the vast chamber. King Valtor III sat upon his throne, flanked by his advisors, the royal knights, and the captain of the guard. They all turned to look at him as he entered, their faces a mix of astonishment and suspicion.
"Swift…" The king's voice was low, full of disbelief. "You… live?"
Swift's eyes met the king's, and for a brief moment, he wondered if the ruler of Espearia would even recognize him. He had died in the forest. He had returned to warn them all. Yet, in that moment, he could feel the weight of the king's gaze upon him. Valtor was no fool. He knew something was wrong.
Swift nodded curtly. "I'm here, Your Majesty. But I haven't come to discuss my death."
The king stood, his robes flowing like ink in the dim light. "Then what have you come for, Swift?"
"I've come to warn you," Swift said, his voice rough, carrying a weight he had not intended. "Bones is free."
A wave of shock rippled through the room, but no one dared speak. Swift could see their faces shift from uncertainty to fear. Even the knights of the star, those who had seen countless battles, exchanged uneasy glances.
"You speak in riddles," one of the advisors said, his voice trembling. "What does this Bones mean?"
Swift clenched his fists, the green veins beneath his skin flaring briefly as the connection between him and the creature twisted. He could feel it, faint but growing stronger. Bones was near. He was coming for them.
"Bones isn't just a name," Swift continued, his voice growing darker. "He's a god-star. A being older than anything you could possibly understand. And I released him."
The king's face darkened, his brow furrowing. "You… released him?"
Swift nodded. "I opened the prison where he was kept. I thought I could control it, like I've controlled so many stars before. But this one is different. This one isn't a star. He's a god. He feeds on destruction. On fear."
The king's gaze grew hard, his lips tightening. "How did this happen?"
"I thought it was a fallen star," Swift explained. "It was a green streak in the sky, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. It took two weeks for it to fall, and when it did, I thought it was just another star waiting to be turned into a weapon."
"And it wasn't?" Valtor asked.
"No," Swift replied, his voice growing grim. "It wasn't. I thought I could break the stone around it, pull it out, and make my fortune. But what I released wasn't a star. It was something else. Something far worse."
Swift's eyes flicked to the floor, the memory of that strange, sinister voice echoing in his mind. The voice that had called to him from the star. "I am free. I am Bones. And you will be the one to bring me all that I desire."
"It's too late," Swift said softly, the weight of it settling over him like a shroud. "Bones is already killing. He's already hunting. And soon, he will come for this city."
The room fell silent.
The king turned to his knights. "Prepare the royal guard. Send for the sorcerers. I want every blade in this city sharpened. Every spell prepared. We will need them."
The captain of the guard stepped forward. "But, Your Majesty, what of the Star Knights? They will need time to—"
"No," Valtor snapped. "Time is a luxury we don't have. We fight now."
Swift's eyes narrowed. He felt the pull again, stronger this time. The connection to Bones was undeniable now, and it drove him mad with its force. He had to stop it. He had to destroy it.
Swift's gaze turned back to the king. "I don't know how much time we have. He's closer than you think. I felt him. His presence. It's like a storm on the horizon."
Valtor's expression softened slightly. "Then we will meet it head-on. I will not let my people fall to this… this monster."
Swift exhaled sharply. "Then you need more than just your knights. You need every star-forged warrior you can muster. And you need someone who knows how to fight him."
"And that someone is you?" Valtor asked, his voice heavy with expectation.
Swift's lips curled into a dark smile. "I've fought him once. I'll fight him again. But I'll need your help. We'll need every weapon, every sorcerer, and every knight we can gather. We need to make our stand."
The king nodded grimly, his voice steady. "Then we prepare. And we will not let Espearia fall."
Swift turned, his heart pounding. He could feel the pull of Bones, closer now, unmistakable. This was no longer just a fight for survival. This was a fight to keep the very soul of the world intact.
As he walked away from the throne room, he realized the truth.
This was only the beginning. The calm before the storm.
And when Bones arrived, they would either break… or burn.