I stand up and look behind me. The guard is standing in the exact same place he was before.

A wave of disappointment and frustration flows over me. These aren't my emotions I feel. I reach my right hand into my back pocket, pulling out the Book.

"Why did you do that? The skeleton never wanted to hurt you."

Why does it matter? The skeleton was about to kill that guard.

"That guard would have died anyway if you weren't around to meddle with the situation."

How would it be ethical for me to let the guard die, if I have any power to stop it? Besides, the only reason I'm here is because of you! You're the reason I've transformed into this monster!

"Can you honestly, in good faith, blame me for your transformation when you aren't even sure how it happened? Do you even have a story to back up your claim?"

Well, no, but considering all of the strange things that have happened to me since you've been around, I can hardly imagine anyone else being responsible.

"Strange things?" The Book projects sensible skepticism. "I'm afraid I'm not sure what you mean by 'strange.' Unless you can tell me what strange event caused your transformation, I find no reason to be held responsible."

You're obviously denying it. You know how it happened. It was the armor, wasn't it? You wanted me to enchant the armor, because you knew what the magic would do to me!

"How could an enchantment make armor do that? Armor is designed for wearing, for protection. Enchantment is designed, of course, to make armor more protective... not make the armor transform its wearer into a skeleton. Do you want to know what I think? You over-exerted yourself. You put on the armor too fast, and you couldn't handle the magic. Then, rather than take the armor off like Dan told you to, you slept with it. And guess where that led you? You would have died if you hadn't been infected."

I wouldn't have bothered sleeping with the armor if I weren't so illogically attached to it. You've been manipulating the way I think, forcing me to wear the armor, knowing quite well what it would lead to.

"Since when have I made you think anything? You're thinking right now of your own accord, aren't you? Otherwise, we wouldn't be arguing with each other."

There have been many times where you've manipulated my thoughts. You've given me nightmares, you've made me want to do things I've never wanted to before, and you've made me feel emotions I otherwise wouldn't feel.

"How do you know those weren't really your thoughts you were thinking? Besides, if I really wanted to control your mind, and I had the power to do so, I wouldn't let you think for yourself. I'd be human, my name would be Fristad, and you would not exist. Of course, I would never bother searching for a way to control your mind, because I value your friendship."

That's a bunch of garbage. You plant all sorts of ideas in my head. Also, you're not my friend. Haven't we had this conversation before?

"Yes, and you're not bringing up any new points."

Perhaps we should stop arguing, then.

"I agree, Fristad. But first, let's get to the heart of the matter: you are not human. As a skeleton, you have different obligations, but one obligation does not change: your loyalty to your own kind. You can't run around killing skeletons anymore, because you are one of them. You must cooperate with skeletons in order to survive.

"Believe me, I'm as disappointed by the transformation as you are. However, we need to make the best of the situation that we are in. You must adapt your perception of morality and learn to befriend the creatures of the night. Only then can our plans see fruition."

What plans?

"Only what you have been searching for all along."

Fine, then. Be as vague as you want. I'm done asking questions.

I put the book back into my pocket, and look out towards the road again. An armored guard is walking towards town, but I'm not sure if he's the same guard, because he is carrying a sword. Yet, the guard's presence saddens me. I've destroyed one life to save another, a life very similar to my own.

Should I shoot him, even though he's human, like I was not too long ago?

I feel my fingers curl around an arrow of unknown origin.

It is only fair. I killed a skeleton, so I might as well kill a human to balance the scale.

What kind of screwed-up logic is that, justifying the death of one creature for the death of another? If I want to kill a man, then, Nether's fire, I'm going to do it!

I raise the arrow into position, looking down from the feathers to the flint head, aligning them above the head of the guard as he moves. Fifty points. A rush of excitement causes me to let go of the arrow without thinking, and launch the arrow farther left than I wanted. I watch the arrow cut upward into the air, then plummet downward towards the road. It lands perfectly within the neck of the guard. He stands still for a moment, grasping the foreign object now inside of him, before falling to the side, his sword tumbling onto the ground. I know it should be wrong for me to think this, but... his death satisfies me.

Another guard runs out from the town, this one carrying a bow. He runs off the road towards me, pulling an arrow into position. He sees me; I have no choice but to kill him. I step off to the side, startled, just as he fires and misses, and another arrow materializes in my hand. I push it against the bowstring, aim at the guard, and release. The guard tries to sidestep it, but grunts as the arrow is lodged at the base of his shoulder. He throws his bow down and pulls out an iron sword from his belt. I grasp and launch another arrow at him, this one bouncing off of the thick center of his chestplate without harm. He continues to charge at me, raising his sword above his head. Just as he is no more than a body's length from me, I fire a third arrow into him, this time into his neck. He staggers forward, crashing into me with the momentum of his charge. I step back to keep my balance. The guard lifts his sword weakly before collapsing onto the earth.

I have never killed a man before this night, in part because I've never needed to, in part because it felt wrong to do so. Why is it, then, that it feels so right tonight? Is it because I'm a skeleton? Somehow, that doesn't seem like a sufficient reason. If humans are supposed to be my enemies, then I should have felt like I was acting in self-defense by killing them, even when that first guard walking down the road didn't see me. His death wasn't exactly justified, yet it made me feel a strange satisfaction which I have never felt with such great intensity: the satisfaction of power, the satisfaction of ending another player's turn in the game that is life... permanently.

I gaze upon the fallen guard at my feet, his hand limply lying flat upon his sword. This is far more exciting than the dull life I've been living on the farm. Now that I have acquainted myself with this power, I must find a way to put it to good use. The only problem is that my life has basically started over; I can no longer pursue the wants and desires that evaded me while I was human, because nobody will recognize me. Heck, I can't even have a nice meal or get a good night's sleep, two of the simplest of pleasures. That's depressing. I think I get a vague idea of what that skeleton meant earlier by "irreconcilable differences."

What to do now?

Well, first of all, I should avoid buildings and roads, to reduce the likelihood of getting ambushed. Secondly, I should search for others like me, to get an idea of what to do next.

I turn away from the road and begin to walk further into the field. There isn't a whole lot of method to this plan.

After walking for about a minute, I begin to hear rapid footsteps coming from behind me, as if somebody is running in my direction. I squeeze an arrow from the air and slide it into the bowstring before turning around.

It's Dan in his grey robe, running hurriedly towards me with a worried look on his face. He doesn't look like he wants to hurt me, but with everything that's happened tonight, I wish he'd just leave me alone.

He slows down from his sprint two meters away from me. He breathes heavily, then takes in a deep, slow breath inward. "How's it going, buddy?"

How does Dan recognize me? Perhaps if I act more aggressively, he'll reconsider. I aim my bow and arrow at his head, and let out a threatening hiss. Somehow, this makes Dan grin.

"Come on, Fristad. I know it's you. Also, for the record, skeletons don't make hissing sounds."

I keep my bow lifted, staying silent to make it seem like I don't recognize him. Regardless if he does, it should be pretty obvious that I don't want him around.

"You aren't honestly going to fire that at me, are you?"

Perhaps Dan needs a little bit more persuasion. I let go of the arrow, letting it fly towards him.

Dan lifts his hand up to his face. A purple vortex appears in his palm, swallowing the arrow instantly. The expression on Dan's face goes flat. He pulls out a diamond sword from the flaps of his robe, and holds it outward. "I don't want to fight you, but if you try to kill me, I will defend myself."

I eye the brilliant blue sword with awe. Between that and the magic, Dan's too strong of a match for me. I lower my bow. "How did you know it was me?"

Dan's face breaks into a grin again. "The magic from your enchanted armor was kind of a giveaway." He lowers his sword. "What were you doing out here, anyway?"

"Well, the reason I'm out here in the first place is because I was looking for you, actually. I thought there was something wrong with your house because everything was so bright... until I went outside and realized the brightness was from my night vision from being, well, undead. After that I..." I hesitate for a moment, trying to think of something harmless to say, "...practiced archery."

Dan raises his eyebrow. "Oh, really? In this desolate place? What were you practicing archery on?"

I look around. There really isn't much here. I try to think of something reasonable. "I was practicing archery on the shrubbery."

That probably wasn't the best answer. The way Dan glares at me, I can tell he isn't buying it.

"Are you sure? I don't see any bushes to shoot at..." He looks around him. "...in fact, I don't see any monsters or animals to shoot at, either. So tell me, Fristad, what were you really shooting at?"

"Well, you're right, there isn't really all that much to shoot at, which is why I was shooting at the shrubbery."

Dan continues to stare at me, unconvinced.

"I was bored! Geez, give me a break."

"I don't believe you, Fristad." Dan says plainly. "So, please tell me, and be honest this time: What were you shooting at? If you don't give me a persuasive answer, I'm going to assume the worst."

He sees through my lies. He's going to keep asking me until he gets the real story out of me. I might as well tell him the truth. I sigh in defeat.

"The town guards."

Dan shakes his head. "I had a feeling you were up to no good."