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To Ian's astonishment, he felt an echo of the skeleton's emotions, first uncertainty, then cautious calm.
"It has no soul... merely a vessel left behind,"
croaked a hoarse voice from the skeleton's throat, impossibly speaking without any vocal cords. It relaxed slightly, shifting its stance.
Perhaps reacting to its previous state of alarm,
Crimson markings began to seep outward from its eyes.
The black-robed skeleton's form pulsed with dozens of runes etched in glowing red, as if inscribed with burning ink. These runes danced over its bones like flames through parchment, giving it an almost lifelike shimmer.
A faint aura, woven of raw magical energy, veiled its skeleton, catching the crimson light and glowing ominously.
Ian could feel it, the kind of ancient power that made his skin prickle.
However,
It didn't feel hostile.
Rather, it felt... frail. Like the remnants of a once-great enchantment that now sputtered, on the verge of vanishing into nothingness.
Truth be told, the very fact that this skeleton could still stand, let alone speak, was a marvel in and of itself. The weariness embedded in its magic was impossible to ignore.
"It's alive, no, wait, it's been reanimated!"
Ian's voice betrayed a flicker of disappointment, yet his wand hand remained steady, curiosity sharpening his vigilance.
After all,
One could never be sure if the appearance of fatigue was merely a clever illusion. Quietly, the young wizard drew out several vials of Potiones Interdictae, wondering if they might benefit the aged creature.
"I will not fall..."
The black-robed skeleton rose, its voice rhythmic, resonant with the cadence of time-worn prophecy. It stood solemnly, more like a relic carved in reverence than a living being.
The robe, draping its bony fram,e fluttered despite the still air. Though moth-eaten and faded, the garment retained a hint of former majesty, adorned in runes Ian couldn't decipher.
"Did you once guard that lost city?" Ian asked quietly, eyes tracing the winding runes engraved on the bones beneath the robe.
To be honest,
They reminded him of the very sigils that had once shimmered across his own skin, though these were denser, more intricate, covering nearly every inch of the skeleton's frame.
The crimson lines, glowing like threads of molten magic, twisted through the bones in a mesmerising pattern.
They lent the creature a power that felt at once sacred and dangerous, as if, at any moment, it might surge forward and destroy everything in its path.
There was something hauntingly familiar about that red glow, like the false sun that had once hovered above the sand-forged echoes of the Shadow Vale.
"I cannot remember..."
The skeleton's jaw, bleached and bare, clacked faintly as it moved in ways no living creature's ever could, the words rough and barely audible.
"What do you remember, then?"
Ian asked, voice taut with anticipation.
"I cannot remember."
The skeleton repeated, tapping lightly on its hollow skull, as though trying to signal that its thoughts had long since fled.
"..."
Ian stared blankly for a moment.
Something about this whole exchange felt off, though he couldn't say why.
"You can speak without vocal cords, but you're fussed about needing a brain to think?!" he finally burst out, baffled by the contradiction.
"I require... a brain," The black-robed skeleton intoned again, with deliberate, rasping clarity.
"And where am I meant to get a brain for you, exactly? Would a cow's do? Just use it as a placeholder?" Ian quipped, rummaging through his enchanted bag and pulling out a preserved cow brain from his stash in the Room of Requirement.
"I've also got pig brains. I hear they're good for mental clarity. Might even make you cleverer," Ian added, gesturing to the black Phoenix to deliver the options to the skeleton.
The Phoenix, ever attuned to Ian's whims, fluttered over obligingly.
"..."
The skeleton stood frozen in silence, clearly dumbfounded.
Clearly,
The newly awakened relic of the past had not expected to be greeted with livestock brains.
"Those who are loved will give rise to flesh."
The black-robed skeleton did not reach out to select the brain Ian offered; it merely continued speaking to him in a low, rasping voice.
"Ugh, who fed you this nonsense?" Ian initially thought the skeleton was jesting, but the black-robed skeleton's eye sockets burned with an intense, deep-red soul fire as it stared at him.
It remained silent.
Yet, there was an undeniable seriousness in its gaze.
"You don't expect me to kiss you, do you?" Ian's eyes widened in shock, and a bizarre thought flashed through his mind: fairy tales about princes kissing princesses, or a princess kissing a frog. Those were the exact images he had just seen in the murals at the top of the tower.
"Those who are loved will give rise to flesh."
The black-robed skeleton repeated itself, like a cursed parrot.
"??????"
Ian's expression shifted dramatically, and amidst the mocking laughter of the black Phoenix, he swallowed hard, glancing at the skeleton, which stood about six feet tall.
"Those who are loved will give rise to flesh."
The skeleton repeated once more, this time raising a skeletal hand toward Ian.
"Alright, alright! I get it, you creepy skeleton!"
Without thinking twice, Ian spun on his heels and bolted.
What a joke!
He wasn't about to kiss this ghastly creature!
He was still a proper young wizard!
Not to mention, he wouldn't even consider kissing a skeleton, especially a male one!
"England's traditions are starting way too early!" Ian dashed out of the hidden chamber, racing down the stone steps, glancing back now and then. Thankfully, his black Phoenix was right behind him.
The black-robed skeleton didn't seem to follow... With a brief thought about the shackles and chains restraining it, Ian allowed himself to slow his pace, feeling somewhat relieved.
"That thing probably can't leave that room." Ian caught sight of the black Phoenix soaring toward him and gave its head a gentle pat, whispering quietly.
"Squawk!"
The black Phoenix's cry was likely incomprehensible, but Ian could tell from its tone that it disagreed with his statement.
"If it could leave, it wouldn't have been chained there for so long," Ian muttered, stepping outside the tower and pausing to look back. To his surprise, the tower slowly began to fade, much like the mysterious echoes he had experienced in the past.
A gust of wind swept through.
And then, nothing remained.
Only the scattering black sand, as though it had been but a fleeting vision.
"It only took a moment to enter that tower, yet it cost me so much of my limited time!" Ian's thoughts shifted as he noticed something peculiar.
According to Lady Ravenclaw, the deeper he ventured into the Twilight Zone, the shorter his time would be. But while wandering the desert, he hadn't felt a significant loss of time.
Why was it, then, that after entering the tower, he had somehow lost a whole day and night? The time had passed far faster than when he had been near Mount Doom.
"Could it be that this tower is farther from Mount Doom than I realised, and it briefly revealed itself to me for some reason?"
With confusion clouding his thoughts, Ian felt himself begin to fade from the Twilight Zone, his form gradually returning to the familiar grounds of the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.
The soft moonlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting dappled silver light onto the ground, its shapes swaying gently with the night breeze and rustling leaves.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
The breeze, which usually felt a little too chilly for his taste, now seemed fresh and welcoming to Ian. The sounds of magical creatures emerging from the underbrush felt more comforting than ever.
"I've been stuck in that desert for too long; I was about to suffocate," Ian muttered, catching a Bowtruckle that had heard the commotion and was now eyeing him cautiously.
He was idly playing with the small creature.
However,
The Bowtruckle's face twisted with sheer terror.
"I thought we were already quite familiar!"
Ian had intended to tease the Bowtruckle, but before he could say more, he noticed something that sent an icy shiver down his spine: a figure looming just behind him.
"Those who are loved will give rise to flesh."
The same hoarse voice echoed chillingly behind the young wizard.
(End of this chapter)