They’d been in the library for hours already when Orme dared do what he’d been wanting to do since they entered.

He reached out and picked up a scroll from the alcove.

He opened it as slowly and delicately as he could, but a part still detached from the rest. He put the whole thing back, hastily, dislodging some other scrolls from their spot. That’s when he saw it.

There was a small hole on the wall behind the scrolls, tiny and oval, as if… It couldn’t be. 

As if a medallion would fit in perfectly.

Orme called the others to come and look, without telling them what he thought. They both exclaimed. “Looks like… no, it can’t be!” “I can’t believe it! Do you still have the medallion?”

Orme took the medallion Gus gave them all that time ago out and around his neck. His hand was shaking as he approached it from the hole. 

It fit perfectly.

Suddenly they all jumped in the air as a loud rumble resonated through the library. The wall behind Iyona, where most of the blue books were, pivoted inwards. A secret passage. They couldn’t believe their eyes.

Iyona jumped in excitement. “A secret door! Orme, we have to go and look. There could be so many things in there!”

“Even goblins,” Wren joked.

“Ha. Ha. Let’s go check it out, then.” Orme mumbled. He was curious too, anyway.

They all went in through the opening in the wall, in single file, and opened their eyes wide. The passage was heavily decorated with mural paintings representing trees and growth, nature and healing.

The colors were faded but one could imagine they’d have been vibrant and beautiful. They walked slowly, taking it all in. They didn’t dare speak. This place felt almost sacred. 

A red door stood before them at the end of the passageway. It had no lock and no keyhole. Orme waited for his companions to catch up with him, then pushed.

It opened in a deafening silence.

The companions paused on the threshold of a big room. There were shelves with more green books, a table, some chairs, a bright light, and everything was green. But there, right next to the table, unmoving, sat a skeleton.

***

The skeleton didn’t move a bone until Iyona did. She took a step forward, and suddenly it was up and turned toward her. It had a scepter in one hand, and a crown on its head. Its fleshless face was inexpressive but its movements did the talking.

It raised its scepter and threw a fire ball at Iyona, who barely dodged. The fire ball turned to mist on the door. 

They all moved at once, Wren behind Orme and Iyona on his left. The skeleton threw another fire ball, that went over their heads. Orme didn’t have time to turn to Wren that another fire ball was heading his way. He shouted “move!” And all three of them picked a corner of the room.

The skeleton turned towards Orme and raised its staff again. This time, the balls were black and landed safely a meter from his feet.

He breathed a sigh of relief. But that was not the end.

The black balls of fire turned on themselves instead of disappearing. And grew. Grew. Grew. And out of the black balls emerged more skeletons.

“What the hell?” Orme barely had time to scream before the new skeletons lunged at him, three of them, with swords.

He barely had time to get his own sword out of its scabbard when it connected with 2 blades. The shock rang through his arm, making it tingle. Orme grabbed his sword two handed and lifted, until the skeleton’s blades slid against his and ended up pointed at the floor. That’s the moment his 3rd attacker chose to aim for his heart.

Orme moved to the side, trying to get his sword back into a deflective position. Thankfully the skeleton wasn’t as fast, and its sword barely grazed his chest. Blood poured from the opening it left in his shirt, but he barely felt any pain. It was probably not too deep.

It did anger him though, he’d had that shirt for a long time and it was soft and fit just right. Orme got back into an attacking position and started pushing on his opponents. 

The lack of flesh on them was disorienting. Blows that should have gotten through the heart ended up caught inside a ribcage, or banging on a tibia. He needed to figure out how to kill these things and fast. 

From the corner of his eye he saw Wren go down. 

“Fuck!”

His kid was down. He had to help, had to save them, had to do something. Anything. In a big swooping blow he decapitated the first skeleton in front of him. It stayed down. 

“Aim for the neck! Decapitate those sons of nothing!” Orme barely had time to yell his warnings when he received a sword in the right leg, lodging inside his thigh. He fell, the pain blinding, his muscles torn. He still managed to lift his sword one handed over his head to block the next blow, and in return sent the motherfucker’s head flying.

1 left.

On one knee, Orme braced himself for impact as he saw the last skeleton coming closer. There wasn’t much he could do to prevent it. He raised his sword, breathing hard. The pain was getting to his head, making his vision swim. The skeleton’s blade crashed on his, and he lost the struggle to stay upright. Come on Orme, last one. You can do this.

He lifted his sword one last time, aimed for the neck, and pushed all his strength behind the blow. The bones cracked and the head slowly detached itself, falling to the side before turning to ashes. Orme collapsed.