The sky starts to brighten. It is still night, but dawn is here, and soon enough the sun will begin its hateful march across the sky, to warm up the earth. I do not have much time to think of how I should escape the sun.

I did not plan on being out here for this long, just long enough to get some fresh souls. I blame my greed of souls and curiosity. Of course, I would bring back any meat I found to bear. I healed most of its wounds, so it should be alright… I hope.

I should not be standing here doing nothing. I need some ideas and I need them quick. Hide underneath the wagon? No, too risky. Oh! The boxes! I can surely fit inside one. What if more bandits come to kill the kid, and then open the crate? Perhaps, Nia could do something, but I am way too paranoid. My paranoia is enough for me to throw away that idea. Hoping that Nia would attempt to fight the bandits off, is not enough for me to risk my life. Under a tree is a silly idea; I am ashamed that I even thought about it.

There must be some way to avoid death-by-sunburn. Hmm... Death. Maybe all I need to do is to go where dead bodies usually can be found. I take off my cloak and throw it on the ground, pushing off my boots with my feet, and unbuckling my belt. I throw the belt on the ground with the rest of my clothing, including my gauntlets and khopesh. Then I put my hands into the ground and begin to dig a hole. It is impressive how well my fingers are digging out the dirt and small rocks in the way.

With the sun, like a shadow of death, on the horizon, I do not immediately notice that the boy is also using his hands to dig, eventually shifting to using a knife, and repeatedly stabbing the ground to soften it before digging it out with his hands. I have no clue where the fairy is, though that does not cause me any lack of sleep. If I even sleep at all.

We finally reach the point where I can climb into the hole. I do not care how wide the hole is, only that it is deep, and that we are fast. I throw myself into the makeshift grave and look up from within the hole, where yellow rays of light shoot out across the sky, turning to the clouds to a pink-orange color. The darkened sky makes way for the sun, receding slowly.

Shame I cannot not stay around to see the sunrise. I am already in the pit now. The boy fills the hole back up with the dirt we dug out. At least I will now be able to say that I dug my own grave. We were not able to dig wide enough for me to lie stretched out, instead I am folded up like a piece of paper. I am still getting used to the lacking sensation of pain. I still have my sense of touch; I feel my sword when I hold it, and the ground when I stand, but the amount of pain I can feel is limited, everything just feels like a pinch.

It is a shallow grave, but for the most part I am positive that I will escape the rays of deadly sunlight. I wonder what my life will be like from now on. When will my bones decay? When will I eventually turn to dust? One thousand years, or maybe ten thousand? I believe I am somewhere in my early twenties, which is around the age where you notice that you are not invincible anymore. I feel quite the opposite.

I resigned myself to the belief that I would probably die in the next thirty years. I still think that, but I am uncertain of death now. By the laws of nature, I should be dead right now. Maybe this is where you go after you die, or maybe this is not even real. I never gave much thought about whether all of this could be a dream. Too many movies before bed could explain everything that has happened up till now.

But dreams are never this vivid and structured. Never have my dreams invented new things, instead they usually draw inspiration from current events, or things from my past. I am sure that this is not dream. However, that only creates more questions in my mind. More things to feed my curiosity and more things to learn.

As I rest in my makeshift grave, I think about why I do not feel bored. I think about a lot of things. Being in a grave makes me think about death. I have seen skeletons who either got their skulls knocked off, or crushed. The ones who got their skulls knocked off were still alive, but they were as good as dead, since all they could do was to clack their jaws as the bones in their body came apart. Their skulls did not survive long after that either. I am sure that the sun will incinerate their souls to nothingness.

I spend a lot of thinking on how the two moons can be so close to each other without colliding.

I work on my weaving skills to pass the time. I am probably embarrassingly slow at it. Occasional throughout the day, I wonder why I remember my training as a knight so clearly. The sword strokes, stances, and forms comes to me naturally during fights. All compliments of the knight, if, by some twist of faith, I ever see him again, I should remember to thank him. His skills, combined with my speed and strength, has already saved me multiple times since I awakened in this world.

I work more on practicing with the repair thread, which causes the most trouble because of its complex sub threads. I pride myself on having good memory skills, but I am still not used to weaving. That, however, does not take away from all the fun I am having during my practice.

Being able to see is a major help, when weaving, but it is also possible to form it in your mind, though the difficulty is magnitudes greater.

I know healing magic needs you to be in physical contact with someone. I remember from the memories of Mr. Albus that some high-ranking priests can cast healing spells from a distance. Many young acolytes have died trying to cast a healing spell from afar. I have the oddest thought while practicing: what if I could reverse the effects of the repair spell? Instead of repairing, would it cause damage instead? Something to check out.

The warm earth feels welcoming. I think I fell asleep, though I am not sure. It is hard to tell when you are in a grave, but I do feel as though I just had the best sleep in years. I can tell that quite a bit of moving is going on above me, from the vibrations in the earth.

A scraping sound is getting closer and closer. I begin to feel the dirt above me move, and finally moonlight touches my face. Sweet sweet dark night is here. You don’t know how good night feels. The boy's hands are covered in dirt from the digging, just like the layer of sweat covering his forehead.

“I’m so happy you're okay. Nia told me your name’s Laoch, and about your ahh... sun problem. Doesn't sound like a name from around here. I'm Isaac.” I do owe the kid one for helping me out last night, and for digging me out now. Not knowing when it is daylight, or night, means that there was a good chance I could have timed it wrong when I ascended from my grave It would have been a bad idea to have done that without help. It also makes sense that Nia knows of my weakness. She must know more about what I am, than I do.

At least now I know the boy's name. Isaac is an easy name to remember. I rest my arms on top of the ground and pull myself up with the help of my elbows. I glance around, and the first thing that attracts my attention is the huge funeral fire that has replaced the campfire. It looks like the boy dragged all the bodies there, laid them on a pile of broken branches and dried leaves, before setting the whole thing afire.

Isaac seemed quite resourceful for his age. It makes me wonder who he is. He is the first social contact I have with a human on this planet, so I had no one to compare him with.

The horses are now saddled with their reins tied back to the wagon. The crates are still on the ground, but the fabrics are back inside them again. I notice my clothes on the back of the wagon and I briskly walk over to retrieve them.

I feel much better after dressing. It feels odd with no clothes on, but at the same time I feel odd with it on. The black cloak that covers my back and shoulders, makes the night feel even better. I begin to see a pattern with the day and the night. The day is pain and death while night is pleasure and life. I am beginning to suspect more and more that my new skeleton life has been messing with my feelings, and the way I react to situations.

“I am going to Rylock, where the Spire of Vatra is. I'm going to become a mage; Will you come with me? Nia said she won't go if you don't? “Isaac says as he walks closer towards me.

The boy’s question is unreasonable, something I can expect from a child. I do not want to seem eager to accept, so I show him no physical indication that I even heard his question. The fairy chose this timing to float down from a tree and settle on my shoulder. She rubs her eyes, yawns, and stretches her hands up into the air. A clear sign that she just woke up as well. I did not know that fairies sleep.

“Tell him he needs to go sleep, Nia, tell him we'll talk about this when he gets some rest.“ I say to Nia, hoping she picks up the mental message. She does, since the boy frowns and was about to spit out some defiance against my words, but I raise a hand, which makes him stop. I am not too sure if it is my skull with the flaming blue eyes that made him listen, but he soon sighs and walks off towards the wagon. Isaac takes out several of the furs and fabrics from a crate, laying them on the ground to form a makeshift bed.

“I'm going to go check something; I’ll be back. Watch over the boy.“ I say to Nia. I receive only a smile and a nod as she flies away onto a tree. I have to go pay the bear a visit. I am not sure why I even cared, but not knowing if my healing helped or doomed the creature has been on my mind all day. It is not that far away, and I still remember the path back.