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A skeleton represented death itself. It was the remnant of a life that had been terminated. The person's life didn't exist anymore, so it was meaningless.

And I was a skeleton. It was empty where my eyes should have been. I was weathered white and completely devoid of flesh.

Click. Clack.

Yet, my life was far from over, and my memory was still sharp. Twenty years ago, an amateur necromancer awakened me during a thunderstorm. Since then, I'd meticulously recorded eve ...

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