The crypt was colder than before. The deeper they went, the more unnatural the air became. It wasn't just the stale scent of old bones and damp stone—it was something worse. Something pressing against them, like unseen fingers trailing over their skin.
Arlan shivered despite himself.
His hand rested near his pocket, where the amulet pulsed faintly. It had gone silent after its last whisper, but he could still feel its presence, waiting. Watching.
Bones stirred slightly inside his cloak, his tiny skeletal frame oddly tense. Arlan could feel it—his familiar was sensing something wrong, too.
Mira took the lead, staff raised as she whispered a detection spell under her breath. The air shimmered faintly, revealing traces of movement—small disturbances in the dust, as if something had passed through recently.
"Tracks," she murmured. "Something's been down here since the last team."
Leila grimaced. "I hate this place."
Tomas shifted his grip on his sword. "We sticking to the plan?"
Mira nodded. "Quick sweep, check the deeper chamber, and then we leave."
Beren grunted. "No distractions."
Arlan kept silent, but he wasn't so sure.
Something about this felt like a trap.
The Vanishing Light
They moved carefully through the old tomb, their footsteps echoing against the stone. This time, the crypt felt different.
The torches flickered strangely, their flames struggling against an unseen force. The air itself seemed thicker, like it was resisting them.
Then, as they turned a corner into the next chamber—
The torches went out.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
"Shit—" Tomas cursed, stepping back.
"Hold still!" Mira snapped, hurriedly casting a light spell. A faint orb of blue light flickered in her palm, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Leila swore under her breath. "Did that just happen on its own?"
Arlan felt his stomach knot. This wasn't normal. Something had snuffed out their light.
Something alive.
Then, from deep within the chamber—
A low, rattling breath.
The Crypt's Guardian
The sound sent ice down Arlan's spine. It wasn't the mindless clattering of skeletons. It wasn't the shrill screech of goblins.
It was something else.
A slow, dragging noise followed—like something ancient shifting within the depths of the tomb.
Mira's light spell flickered dangerously.
Then—
It moved.
A shape lurched from the darkness.
Pale, decayed flesh hung loosely over an elongated body. Hollow eyes, alight with an unnatural green glow, fixated on them with awareness.
And worst of all…
It spoke.
A guttural rasp, broken by time and death.
"You… should not have come."
Tomas took an instinctive step back. "What in the hells is that?"
Mira's voice was tight. "A ghoul. But not just any—that thing's ancient."
Arlan's heart pounded. He had read about ghouls before—restless corpses, twisted by dark magic into hunger-driven monstrosities. But this one wasn't feral. It knew they were here.
Leila had already drawn an arrow. "Are we fighting, or running?"
The ghoul let out a low, rasping laugh.
"There is no running."
And then it lunged.
The Fight for Survival
Beren was the first to react. His axe swung, catching the creature in the side. But instead of slicing through, the blade skidded off, barely cutting into its rotted flesh.
The ghoul grinned.
Then it struck back.
It moved—inhumanly fast. One second, it was in front of Beren, and the next, it was behind him, claws lashing out.
Beren barely managed to raise his arm in time. The creature's claws raked across his forearm, leaving deep, jagged marks.
"Damn it—!" Beren stumbled back, his axe slipping from his grip.
Mira flung a fire spell, but the ghoul twisted unnaturally, dodging it before slamming a clawed hand into her stomach.
The breath was knocked out of her. Mira gasped, her staff slipping from her fingers as she was flung backward, hitting the stone wall hard.
She didn't get up.
Tomas charged next, shield raised. "Come on, ugly!"
The ghoul turned toward him, its decayed lips curling into something almost a smile.
Then it moved again—disappearing in a blur.
Tomas barely had time to register the attack before the ghoul's claws slammed into his shield. The sheer force sent him flying across the chamber, crashing into an old stone coffin. He groaned, dazed.
Leila fired an arrow, but the ghoul dodged it effortlessly. Before she could notch another, it grabbed her by the throat.
She choked, eyes wide, legs kicking uselessly.
Arlan's mind screamed at him to move, to do something.
But the ghoul… it turned to him.
And it laughed.
"Ahh… the little one." Its eerie green eyes bore into his. "You reek of something… familiar."
Arlan's breath hitched.
It knew.
It knew.
Before Arlan could react—
Bones leapt from his cloak.
Arlan barely had time to register the movement before his tiny skeletal rat skittered forward, darting straight toward the ghoul.
For the first time—
The ghoul paused.
It looked down, its eerie green eyes locking onto Bones.
A beat of silence.
Then—
Bones changed.
It started with a tremor in the air, a pulse of energy rippling through his tiny form. His bones cracked—not in breaking, but in growth. His tiny frame elongated, his ribcage expanding slightly. His claws sharpened, glinting in the dim magical light.
And his eyes—those glowing emerald pinpricks—flared into something more.
A wave of shadow energy pulsed outward from him, rattling the bones scattered across the floor.
Bones had evolved.
But… something went wrong.
The skeletal rat's form twisted—magic surging wildly.
And suddenly—
Bones was no longer a rat.
Arlan's brain short-circuited.
Leila, still gasping for air, froze.
Tomas, barely conscious, lifted his head.
Even the ghoul looked momentarily baffled.
Because standing there, in the center of the chamber, was no longer a small skeletal rat.
It was a giant, bony, undead chicken.
Complete with wings, an elongated skull, and razor-sharp talons.
The crypt was dead silent.
Then—
Bones squawked.
A loud, bone-rattling, horrifyingly echoing undead BACAWK!
The ghoul flinched.
Then—
Bones attacked.
With all the chaotic energy of an undead chicken, he launched himself at the ghoul, flapping skeletal wings wildly.
The ghoul shrieked, trying to claw him off, but Bones pecked and clawed ferociously. His talons raked across its face, his beak snapping at its rotted flesh.
It was complete chaos.
Leila, still choking, managed to gasp out, "What… the… hells?!"
Arlan was horrified.
Mira, regaining consciousness, stared at the scene, whispered, "I think I hit my head too hard."
Tomas, groaning, muttered, "I'm going to pretend I didn't see that."
But it was working.
The ghoul stumbled, trying desperately to shake the undead chicken off. It wasn't dying, but it was completely overwhelmed.
Arlan snapped back into focus.
"Bones, hold it still!"
Bones squawked again—possibly in agreement.
Arlan thrust his hand forward, magic coiling at his fingertips.
A bolt of pure shadow shot forward, slamming into the ghoul's chest.
Mira followed up with a fire spell.
Tomas, with one last push, rammed his sword into the ghoul's gut.
The creature spasmed—once, twice—then finally collapsed.
And just like that—
It was over.
Aftermath
Arlan panted, still staring at Bones.
Bones, still very much a skeletal chicken, clicked his beak once.
Then—
He shrank back into his normal rat form.
Arlan exhaled sharply.
"…What just happened?"
No one had an answer.
But Arlan knew one thing.
Bones had evolved.
And something told him…
This was only the beginning.