"Skelly, can you talk to him?" the boy asked, pointing at the old soldier with a curious smile. The skeleton followed his gesture, looking at the rotting creature before them. Even if he could speak, the skeleton knew he wouldn't. He felt a deep revulsion, not just toward the decaying soldier but toward the very idea of communicating with it. Though he, too, was dead—little more than bones—he knew instinctively that he was not the same as that grotesque thing. So, he didn't even try. He just shook his head, signaling to the boy that he couldn't.
The boy's hopeful expression faded into disappointment. "Too bad. I thought you could make a new friend." He seemed to mistake the skeleton's reluctance for sadness, because he quickly added, "Don't worry, Skelly. We'll find you a new friend soon." With that, the boy gestured toward the old soldier, a casual wave of his hand as if calling a pet.
The skeleton didn't expect anything to happen. Surely the dead man wouldn't respond to such a simple gesture. But to his surprise the decaying soldier began to shuffle after the boy, leaving pieces of flesh and bone behind with every step.
The skeleton watched, wary, as the boy led the grotesque creature toward a nearby balcony. Feeling the urge to follow the skeleton took a step forward, but something about the boy's cheerful grin and those unsettlingly bright blue eyes made him stop. Instead of approaching the balcony, he stayed back, watching the scene unfold from a distance.
"Come, Mr. Grey! Come see the view!" the boy called, still leading the rotting body. Then, with a mischievous grin, he added, "Oh! Sorry, can I call you Mr. Grey?" he added, almost as if talking to a pet. The skeleton scoffed inwardly. He can't even speak, how would you know if he cares?
The boy didn't seem to care about the lack of response. "You don't mind, do you, Mr. Grey?" he asked again, a playful air in his voice. The corpse didn't react, of course, but the boy continued as if it had, leading the rotting soldier to the edge of the balcony.
The skeleton watched from the shadows, every instinct telling him to leave, to put as much distance as he could between himself and this strange child, but something held him in place, a morbid curiosity perhaps.
When the rotting soldier reached the balcony, the boy turned to him with a bright smile, as if explaining a simple lesson to a child. "Mr. Grey, I know you were just born, so you can't really appreciate the view, nor can you understand what I'm saying. But don't worry—I'll make it simple." His voice, still cheerful, took on an eerie undertone. "The scary lady says that an unripe fruit must be thrown away. It's bitter, and it has no use. Best it becomes fertilizer for the other fruits to grow stronger."
And with that, the boy gave the old soldier a gentle push. The decayed body toppled over the edge of the balcony, plummeting down until it splattered against the blood-soaked ground below.
The skeleton watched, though unsettled, not entirely surprised by the act. He'd already sensed something off about the boy. Now, he watched him carefully, his hollow eyes vigilant. What is wrong with this kid? he thought. I need to get away from him as soon as I can.
The boy leaned over the balcony, watching with almost childlike fascination as the body below was absorbed almost instantly into the soil, the ground greedily drinking it up like it had been waiting for such a gift. Then, as if nothing had happened, the child turned on his heel and skipped deeper into the castle, humming a tune to himself.
Only after the boy had disappeared did the skeleton dare approach the balcony. He didn't get to see the gruesome sight of the ground swallowing the corpse, but as he looked out over the landscape, something else caught his attention. Down the main road leading to the castle, a group of knights was riding, their armor glinting faintly in the dim light. They were approaching the castle—and fast.