"Lovely thing, isn't it?"
The voice came from behind the throne of skin and bone, smooth and dripping with aristocratic arrogance.
Both boys looked up sharply.
A figure stepped out from the heavy shadows behind the dais. It was a skeleton, but not like the mindless thralls wandering the courtyard outside.
It was tall—impossibly tall, its limbs elongated and its spine perfectly straight. The bones were immaculate, a dark, polished ivory devoid of any rot or flesh. It wore the tattered remnants of a dark, high-collared coat, its fabric reduced to shreds by time.
Deep, violet light burned steadily within its eye sockets.
It walked around to the front of the throne, ran one long, bony finger over the armrest made of fused skulls, and then gracefully lowered itself into the seat. It crossed one long leg over the other, resting its chin on its knuckles, looking down at them like a king observing his court jesters.
