Ankhun stroked his forehead while he flipped through the pages of one of his tomes. He had moved his head close to the leather-bound book, his eyes squinting to make out the text. Full of concentration, he hadn’t realised that the room had turned dark, its only light source the whirling fire which was dancing in the hearth next to him. However, he was not focused on what he was reading; fear and doubt had occupied his mind. His body was still in a weak state, crippled by his centuries of imprisonment. Ankhun even wondered if he could execute a simple ritual, like animating the skeleton which was laying in front of his desk. It was not a matter of instructions; he had written those exactly in the book in front of him, no it was the lack of power he was afraid of. The magic he had shown previous child’s play with what he wanted.

He had spent decades collecting artifacts for consumption, their magic permanently expanding his magic pool, which allowed him to hold more energy. It made him able to perform the most powerful feats. Thinking back on his height of power made him smile, but it took only seconds for it to turn into a frown. His imprisonment had reduced his work to none, as his pool had shrunk to its original size. No longer able to collect the ocean of energy he could before. That didn’t mean he was weak however, his knowledge of magic was still paramount, able to execute difficult rituals and magic without spending much energy. Still, he feared that even this wasn’t enough. I could always explore without the use of the skeleton; what risk could there be? He wondered.

He stood up, shook his head, and leaned against the desk. It’s much too early to risk myself like this; I need to learn more about what the world looks like now. An ancient wizard like me shouldn’t even contemplate such things. Even with this power, I should have no problem animating a skeleton. He let out a quick sigh as he sank into his chair again. After reading for a while, his eyes grew heavy, and he leaned back, closing them. Though doubt still lingered in his mind, making it difficult to fall asleep, he did his best to push the thoughts to the back of his mind. Eventually, he succeeded.

The cold air woke him up; his eyes opened slowly, noticing that his breath formed a fog in front of him. His body shivered; the uncomfortable cold was still unfamiliar to him. He slapped his hand against his forehead; why didn’t I think of clothes? To warm his naked skin, he resurrected the fire, throwing a heavy log onto the smoldering coals. As the warmth spread trough, the room again, he read the list of what he needed again. Although he could barely call it a list, the crucial part comprised two items. The skeleton itself and an animal with a life force large enough to animate it.

Ankhun waited for a while, warming up his body before he entered the castle. Then he made a mental note of what he needed to find. Clothes he could salvage into something wearable and a weapon that could subdue an animal. Next, he entered the corridor. With each step, his bare feet touched the stone floor, which snitched the heat away, demonstrating that he had to find what he needed quickly. Upon reaching the enormous stairs directly opposite the main entrance, he realized this was his second challenge. The marble stone had stood the test of time; the problem was that the floor above it hadn’t. Giant beams of wood and stone blocked it, preventing him from entering the first floor. This minor obstacle didn’t stop him as he made his way upstairs by a combination of brute strength and climbing, his muscles at least warming because of the show of force.

After he had climbed over the last stone on his way up, he reached the first floor. Ankhun barely recognized the corridor, as it had seen some better days. The floor had fallen down, leaving holes behind. Because of this, the supporting beams were visible, and he could see the rot attacking them. The sight caused a wave of sentiment flowing through him; the corridor’s former grandeur was rivaled only by the breathtaking beauty of the rooms it connected to. Beds fit for a king, satin curtains, and a decorated chest where guests could keep their valuables. Now the corridor had all but fallen down; the curtains were just a few strings of satin, desperately holding on, and time had broken and withered the beds. The chest had been decorated with iron, which caused it to hold relatively well. A great starting point to look for what he needed.

He searched through five rooms before he found something that looked like a piece of usable clothing. It was slightly damaged, but not beyond repair, especially using magic. The energy inside him transformed the piece of clothing; the threads grew like vines on the ground, sealing the holes and restoring it to its original design. Standing in the corridor again, he was now clothed. He wore a tunic of blue and silver, blue hose and a robe of the same colour, decorated with silver thread. Walking back to the ground floor, he was especially grateful for his leathered shoes, which could protect his feet. No longer shivering, his full focus turned to finding a weapon.

The way down was much more accessible, although the stairs leading to it were much less glamorous than the marble ones going up. There was much more moisture in the gallery he was now standing in. It was not a surprise; he could only describe this place only as a cellar; it was dug underneath the castle, covered in stone and layers of sand. Opposite to the rest of the castle, he had not visited most rooms in this section, as it was the place his servants lived. It would be beneath him to visit such a place as this; people would do it for him. Walking through the corridors, he recognized the old kitchen, no longer filled with the yelling of cooks and the warmth of raging fires. He wandered around for a while, searching for the armoury. The armoury was the one place he had visited, as it stored most of his magical artifacts and treasures. But he also stored his personal weapons here, and he hoped a spear or a bow had survived, or at least something big enough to subdue an animal big enough to complete the ritual.

When he heard the familiar sound of his magic, he knew he had reached the armoury. His heart jumped as he realised that nobody had broken the seal. Of course, he hadn’t made the mistake his apprentices did with his prison, tying the shield to a magical artifact which someone could remove or destroy. Could it be that his artifacts remained inside? He wondered as he spread his touch around the protection. Recognizing its master had returned, the door swung open; the sound inviting him inside.

Immediately he yelled, the power of his voice collapsing against the solid stone of the armoury, its sound echoing through the whole corridor. There was no need to break the seal to get inside, as the floor above the armoury had collapsed, the wooden planks scattered all over. The iron chests broken open and cast aside, as somebody had stolen all the treasures. With quick steps, he walked through the room, desperately looking for something. After he forced himself to breathe slowly, he found a rusty spear left in the room’s corner. It took him a lot of willpower to remain positive; at leas he found the weapon he was looking for.

Ankhun wasted no time and immediately left the castle. With quick steps, he went into the woods, hoping he would find either a deer or a boar to take home. The crunch of broken leaves echoed as he followed the flow of the river. Scared that it would warn his prey, he slowed his pace, carefully placing his feet on the forest floor. When he heard birds, his heart slowed down again; their music letting him know he was silent enough.

After walking for a while, the light crept through the spaces between the trees, showing that it was noon already. Next to him, the river had become larger; the sound of water allowing him to walk faster, his own noise masked by it. Ankhun had a hard time keeping concentrated on the hunt, his brain racing with plans of revenge and memories of what he had done wrong. In addition, he wondered how he would get a heavy beast home. He shook his head; there was no time for such doubts.

The river flowed into a large lake, and the stream slowed down. He was not the best hunter, but even he realised animals had to drink. Hiding himself in a large bush growing close to the lake, he waited. The time slowly dragged forward as he kept waiting. Then, a boar arrived, the beast not realising that he had walked into a trap. His hands turned white when he clutched his spear. With small steps, he left his hiding place, following the wind to mask his scent. As he crawled closer and closer to the animal, he aimed his spear. In an instant, the sound of a spear flying echoed through the forest, followed by a loud squeak and a heavy thump when the weapon had hit its mark.

Carefully, he shuffled towards the boar, keeping his spear in front of him, not risking contact with the giant tusks. When he got close enough, he realised the eyes of the animal were shut, its breast still going up and down, so it was still alive. Not wanting to waste any more time, Ankhun dragged the animal towards the castle. His muscles were tense, unfamiliar with the heavy load they now needed to carry. The body of the animal left a trail behind, moving all scattered leaves and twigs aside.

He stood in an empty room, next to the armoury. The stone floor was a perfect underground to execute his ritual. His head was still red as he finally dropped the boar. The way towards the castle felt like ages, his arms constantly screaming for respite. Then he had to leave the animal alone for a while, as he needed to grab the skeleton. When he returned, his heart was pumping in his throat, only calmed when he heard the slow breath of the animal. With one exhale, he calmed himself, finally ready to begin his ritual.

With the spear in his hand, he began carving the figures he needed on the floor. With the boar and the skeleton on the opposite on the room, he drew two hexagons around the items, connected by two straight lines. The sound it made pierced his ears, almost enough to make him stop. Ignoring it, he continued finishing the pattern with a circle in the middle, filled with six smaller ones. He stepped away, inspecting his creation, comparing it to his description in his tomes. With a small nod, he stepped inside the circle and started up his magic.

When his energy touched the white lines of his drawings, light bursted out of them, filling the dark room with a glooming green light. It was around knee high, entrapping the items inside their respective hexagons. Ankhun focused on the boar, his power cutting through the physical body of the boar, reaching for its soul. Then, a hand appeared above it, the giant thumb and index finger forcing themselves in the animal’s mouth. With dominant force, they forced a white light out of it, the dancing particles forming together in the shape of a star. He smiled as the star floated across the line to the skeleton, knowing that his power had been enough. He ignored the weakness in his body as he continued, focusing on the hand as it shoved the white starts in the skeleton’s skull.

Immediately, all the lights disappeared, and he collapsed as the skeleton rose again, looming over him with great expectation.