There was a distinct problem as I shuffled the bones like I had been doing for far, far too long. Nothing I did worked, and progress halted nearly as fast as it started. Rattling bones weren’t particularly useful, and that was the extent of my magical aptitude. It occurred to me that maybe I was looking at the problem wrong.

I knew, for a fact, that gray mana could not lift heavy objects let alone light hollow bone. Death mana, as the Dark One called it, was truly pathetic. It did not have the feisty allure and warmth of Fire mana; it did not have the healing properties of Life Mana, it was completely superior to Divine mana but that wasn’t something to brag about. What Death mana had, that other mana lacked, were the remains that the dark gray substance oozed out of.

As I sat on the cold stone floor squinting at bone, I wondered if the dark gray mana was attracted to the frail bone, or if the gray substance was produced from it. Even with mana sight, it was hard to discern anything from the shifting blob of gray mana. As I took my eyes off the bones, I turned to stare at George who was still staring at me. We stared at each other for longer than what was socially acceptable.

George stared at me because there was nothing else to do; I stared back, trying to cheat on my assignment. The rotting undead George was not a masterpiece, but he did stand on two feet and did more than just rattle on the floor. What I didn’t see, though, was mana. George didn’t leak any of the gray substance the bones did, that was very frustrating.

“Why can’t you bleed some gray mana, like these bones?” I asked.

“I don’t know what your demented mind is on about, but the only thing I leak are the fluids from decaying meat juices. I can’t wait to stomp around the catacomb when I get back, and spread them all around.”

“Don’t even think about it. I’m the one who’ll have to clean it all up. Why not stomp around here if you’re so excited to make a mess?”

“I’m a zombie, not a savage. I don’t spread my rotting flesh in other people’s homes as a guest.”

“So you’re considerate to everyone except me?”

“Of course.”

At the very least, the bones treated me fairly. They didn’t talk back, or make my life more miserable. It occurred to me that it was possible that George did have gray mana like the bundle of bones. He wouldn’t have existed, otherwise. My life would’ve been easier, otherwise.

If there was no indication of dark gray mana outside of George’s frame, that meant the mana would have to be inside him. The mana needed a crutch to support its weight, to keep its shape. Instead of pulling the mana out of the dead like a string, I pushed it into the bones. The bones resisted as I merged the dark gray substance into it.

Like before, I wove the mana into a thin string, threading it through the bones until they were attached to each other. My willpower slipped, but the mana stayed in place. The bones refused to let the nebulous gray mana escape and pool at the base of the floor. I willed the bones to move and they flopped around like a fish on dry land. It was a success.

The Dark One stood proudly and marched to my flopping crippled and probably mindless new friend. I named him Floppers, but neither George nor The Dark One would ever learn its name. The Dark One brought his leg back, before hurtling it at Floppers.

“No! I just created him!” I yelled I watched my bone creation crunch and crack under the foot of the deranged immortal.

“Ah, I’m afraid my foot slipped. You’ll have to construct your undead in a way that you can easily pull it back together with your will.”

“Your foot didn’t slip.”

“No. No. I can assure you that was an accident.”

“If that was an accident, then I’m a thirty foot tall giant,” I grumbled to myself.

I picked up the broken pieces of poor Floppers, and spread them out in front of me. Gray mana leaked from the knicks and cracks in the bone. The mana rope connecting the bones had torn.

I willed more gray mana into the bones, creating long strands of mana as I had done before. This time I made sure to leave some slack inside the bones, so the strands would not snap if something went wrong. I figured that I could coil the strands with my will, pulling the bones back together.

It wasn’t long before Floppers was better than it had ever been before. It still was a useless thing but it would at the very least not shatter at the first purposeful kick from the Dark One.

The training continued, the Dark One kept kicking, and George was there. As days passed, the speed in which I imbued the bones quickened immensely, my construction took mere seconds, and Floppers was a shell of the creature he was. I knew my time working with the Dark One was closing in on me as my hunger grew. I was scared to confront Malkor, but I knew if I didn’t act now I would die. There was only so much training I could do, only so much I could improve. I did not have the luxury of immortality. I was not surprised when the Dark One left his parting words.

“I’m afraid that I have taught you all of what you need to know for your first steps on the path to salvation. You’re a bumbling fool, but you’re not as thick-skulled as I initially concluded. Do not die so easily to the jaws of Malkor.”

“I’ll try not to let you down.”

“And do visit occasionally. It gets lonely in here.”