Lioren Grave had always known he was different. While other children in the village ran through fields, played tag, or tried to catch frogs, he spent his afternoons in the Grave family backyard, surrounded by soil and old bones. He wasn't sure why, but something about bones called to him. He liked the quiet, the stillness, and the faint whisper of magic he could feel around the buried remains.
It all began the year he turned ten. That morning, Lioren had been digging near the far corner of the yard when his small hand brushed against something hard. He pulled it out carefully. It was a skull, small and cracked in places, probably buried there for decades. Lioren traced a finger along its cracks and, half-joking, whispered a name he had made up on the spot. Tibby
The skull trembled. It rattled lightly. Then it lifted slightly off the ground. Lioren froze, eyes wide.
Did… did you just move he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
A faint voice echoed in his mind. Yes… I think so.
From that moment, Lioren realized that he could do more than study bones. He could awaken them, shape them, and if he practiced enough, control them. His heart raced with excitement and a little fear. From that day on, he spent every free moment studying old scrolls, practicing incantations, and experimenting with tiny spells.
He did not have a teacher. The Grave family had long ago abandoned most of their necromantic knowledge, leaving behind only a few dusty scrolls, a handful of ancient runes carved into stones, and a mysterious old grimoire that smelled like mildew and dust. Lioren learned mostly by trial and error, and the errors were often funny, sometimes dangerous, and occasionally a little terrifying.
One morning, he had attempted to raise a single skeleton from a femur. Instead of a normal skeleton, the bones popped out of the ground wearing a tiny chalk-drawn hat he had scribbled earlier for decoration. Lioren stared at it for a long moment before realizing it was twitching in a way that seemed almost amused. Another time, he accidentally made a skeleton dance uncontrollably across the yard, performing flips and spins until it collapsed in a pile of bones, rattling as if it were laughing.
Lioren laughed so hard that he almost forgot to check his magic for safety. That was the first lesson he learned. Magic could be unpredictable, even for a talented necromancer.
By the time he was thirteen, Lioren had gained some control. He could summon simple skeletons reliably, raise single bones, and animate them with small bursts of magic. But the most thrilling moment came when he tried to give a skeleton awareness, a mind that could think, observe, and respond. It took weeks of effort, countless failed attempts, and more than a few explosions of blue sparks.
Finally, one evening as the sun dipped behind the village hills, the spell worked. A skeleton rose from the soil, its body slightly crooked, one arm bent awkwardly, a rib jutting out like it had a bad attitude. Its eyes glowed faintly blue, and Lioren could feel a spark of intelligence within it.
Can you hear me Lioren asked, holding his breath.
The magic inside the skeleton formed words in his mind. Yes, I can hear you. I guess I belong to you now.
Lioren's eyes lit up with a grin. Perfect. I will call you Rattle.
Rattle bowed stiffly. I will try not to get in your way, master.
You are going to be my partner Lioren said. Together we will discover things no one in this village can even imagine.
Rattle rattled his bones, which seemed like a chuckle. You say that now, but I have a feeling life with you will be interesting.
From that day forward, the backyard became their training ground. Lioren experimented with raising skeletons, animating single bones, and controlling small magical effects. He practiced until his arms ached and his fingers glowed faintly blue. He made mistakes, sometimes spectacular ones, but Rattle was always there, offering sarcastic commentary that kept Lioren laughing.
One day, Lioren attempted a spell that was meant to make three skeletons fight in training combat. Instead, the skeletons started chasing each other in circles, knocking over flowerpots, and colliding with the fence. One skeleton grabbed the neighbor's chicken and paraded it around the yard like a trophy.
Rattle, why didn't you stop them Lioren yelled, half annoyed, half amused.
I tried, but they don't listen to me either. I swear, master, your magic attracts chaos Rattle replied in his mental voice.
The two of them spent the entire afternoon untangling bones, returning the chicken, and explaining to Lioren's mother why the backyard looked like a battlefield. Lioren only smiled. Every mistake, every funny accident, was a lesson.
Lioren's family didn't fully understand him. His parents were distant and quiet, preferring to avoid magic altogether. They had heard stories about the dangers of necromancy, and some villagers believed the Grave family was cursed. But Lioren didn't care. He knew that with magic, practice, and creativity, he could become something extraordinary.
Little did he know, every small experiment, every skeleton he raised, and every burst of accidental chaos was preparing him for a world beyond his quiet village. A world where he would face danger, adventure, comedy, and challenges far greater than animated chickens or dancing bones. A world where he would rise to become something no one could ignore: the Bone King.
And in the soft glow of twilight, with Rattle clattering happily beside him, Lioren made a silent promise to himself. He would become stronger, smarter, and braver. He would master the magic that had called to him since he was ten, and nothing, neither villagers, monsters, nor gods, would stand in his way.