Skeletons Of Society Novels & Stories

"Well, that's not too far, but it will be stupid to go th- STOP!" The skeleton was walking towards the place it died. As if it was trying to complete the "mission" set by David. Who felt a little touched but mostly annoyed at this behavior. "Ok ok, first we need to get you something to fight back, you'll get crushed if you go unprepared...let's start with the crystals, pick up some of them." The skeleton nodded and tried to take a piece of the purple crystal off the wall until his arms dislocated, but the gem remained unperturbed.

If they could not resolve the problem of the sealed land or failed to leave this place, they might be trapped here until they died. The skeletons did not require food or drink. They simply had to reassemble repeatedly. So far, their strength seemed unlimited. There was no comparison between humans and skeletons. As time progressed, humans would be exhausted and rendered useless against the skeletons. They quickly followed Philip’s cue of chopping off the skeletons' limbs and leaving them alive with skulls and torsos intact. Suddenly, the huge palace shrank rapidly. Almost everyone discovered that change, and the space left for them was quickly reduced by half.

The energy nurtured the skeleton. After thirty thousand epochs, the skeleton had been refined through a thousand trials, achieving the realm of immortality. Now, no power in the world could erase this skeleton. The coffin disappeared in a flash. After vanishing, the desolate universe collapsed. The coffin reappeared in another desolate universe, once again absorbing the energy of that universe. At the same time, the Dooms’ armies were done assembling. Outside the Dooms’ entrance, countless armies gathered in the distant sky, all clad in black armor, standing on the clouds with a formidable aura.

To the south of the valley not far from its present location was a group of simple structures next to the mountains, which gave the appearance of being a mine. But there was something strange, a group of about fourteen figures were marching in close formation in the direction of the middle. "A police car?" Zark asked. To which Nyos, who was taking a spyglass out of his backpack replied "I doubt it." "the reasons?" Keil asked directly. But before Nyos could answer, the one who gave an answer was Ingrid "Because they are undead, more specifically they are skeletons." While Nyos nodded after rectifying the statement looking with his spyglass, he handed this to Keil.

The air in the Valley of the Unborn didn't just carry the scent of death; it was composed of it. Every step we took into the concentric circles of ancient wolf skeletons produced a sound like dry parchment tearing. The bones were bleached a brilliant, unnatural white, contrasting sharply with the grey salt-dust that swirled around our ankles like a ground-level fog. These were not the remains of a single battle or a localized plague. These were the discarded skeletons of the First Alpha’s own pack—those who had been deemed "imperfect" when he sought to refine the shifter soul into a weapon of pure light.

​But as we drew closer, the horror of the place became clear. ​The structures weren’t made of iron, tungsten, or lead. They were ivory. They were made of bone—massive, calcified ribs and titan-sized vertebrae woven together with the same silver-wire silk the Harvesters used. The city was a skeletal ghost, a graveyard of architecture that looked as if it had been grown rather than built. ​“It’s the Hub,” Winnie whispered, her voice trembling. “But it’s… It’s us. It’s all of us.”

He’d fallen and rolled into a vast chamber full of skeletons. He turned, squinting, seeing that it was more than just a depositary of bones. Over and over there were skeletons. Huge skeletons. A majority of them were quite massive and bearing skulls more apish than those of men. Understanding that he stood in a weird graveyard, August figured there was some compliance between the locals and these stinking beasts. That didn’t mean much at the time, as he heard voices from down the way, ahead of him. Barely able to see in the grim light, he flattened against the wall of bones between him and the cave wall, wishing he could climb out, balance on the ledge and go back the way he came. August tho

I freed half the skeletons from the cage, leaving the rest to do their duty to Vienthrey. “Right then,” I told the skeletons. The soldiers were accustomed to them and did not question their presence. They had named the ones that patrolled their streets, I found out as we travelled, as well as many of the surviving skeleton vermin. I shook my head in bafflement, but it made sense that a city which embraced the presence of a dragon in its queen’s bed, would accept the presence of skeletons in its streets. As we travelled through the countryside, I cast out. Aurien had said that some had gone missing. We made camp on the side of the road, and the arrival of five additional skeletons startled th

"You told me you don't know who. I believe you don't know the name. But you know something about them. You don't get to eighteen months inside an operation without picking up texture. What do you know?" He's quiet. His broken finger is purple now, the knuckle grotesquely swollen, and there's blood drying on his chin from the lip Declan split, and he has the look of a man who has been making calculations for the last twenty minutes and keeps arriving at the same answer, which is that he is out of leverage and what's left is just deciding how much more of this he wants before he says everything he knows. "They called them the Ghost," he says finally. "That's all I ever heard. The Ghost. Someon

The Bone Garden stretched before him, vast and impossible. Where the previous chamber had contained grief liquid and flowing, this one held death made solid. White structures erupted from black soil, forming patterns that hurt to perceive directly. Not simply bones, though human and animal remains certainly featured in the grotesque landscape. Rather, these were the skeletons of concepts, the calcified remains of ideas that had lived and died across eons. "Welcome to the place where abstractions come to die," a voice whispered, though no speaker was visible.