Naked BONES OF THE BETRAYED

CHAPTER 2 — The Corpse-Wash Silence

Rain hammered the slums long before Chris reached them. By the time he stepped onto Hollow Street, his clothes were soaked, his hair dripping, and his pulse still shaking from the courtyard.

The city’s neon lights flickered against puddles of oily water, turning every step into a smear of color, red, blue, sickly green. The gates of the upper district had slammed behind him only minutes ago…

but it felt like years. He took one fragile breath. Another. Then a voice cut through the rain. “Hey! You gonna stand there all night?”

Chris jumped. A gaunt older man leaned in a doorway, thin as a rake, apron stained with dried crimson. Ben, supervisor of the Hollow Street Corpse-Wash.

Chris’s new workplace. “I—I’m sorry,” Chris stuttered. “I just ”

“Don’t waste my time,” Ben barked. “You late?”

Chris blinked. “Late…? I—I didn’t know”

“You start tonight,” Ben snapped. “Inside. Now.”

The door slammed open. Chris stepped in. The corpse-wash smelled of blood, iron, and disinfectant, the kind that seeped into the skin and never left.

Metal tables lined the room, each with a sheeted figure resting atop it. Buckets of murky water sloshed under flickering lights.

Chris froze. “Are… are these all from today?”

Ben snorted. “From this hour. Plague’s spreading faster than we can keep up.”

Chris’s chest constricted. “Plague…?”

“Yeah, bone-black rot or something.” Ben tossed him a pair of gloves. “You’ll be washing bodies. Don’t screw up.”

Chris swallowed. Hard. “I thought I was assigned as a healer”

Ben’s laughter cracked like brittle bone. “Healer? Boy, the nobles labeled you unstable. You think anyone’s gonna trust you with the living?”

“I didn’t,  I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Ben jerked his chin at a table. “Start scrubbing.”

Chris hesitated. Ben glared. “Problem?”

“I just… they’re all… singing.”

Ben blinked. “What?”

Chris shook his head quickly. “Nothing.”

He approached the first corpse. A young man, early twenties. Lips blue. Bone-core socket on his chest blackened like burned coal. Chris whispered, “I’m sorry…”

A faint vibration trickled through his fingertips.

It hurts… it hurts… why didn’t anyone help me…?

Chris flinched and nearly dropped the sponge. “No, please, don’t” he whispered. “I can hear you, but I can’t do anything”

Ben stomped toward him. “Who you talking to?”

“No one,” Chris said sharply.

Ben leaned close, sniffed. “You on something?”

“No.”

“You better not be.” Ben jabbed a finger into his chest. “This place doesn’t need crazies.”

Another whisper bled into Chris’s skull.

He killed us… the one in armor… the one with the blade of bone…

Chris stiffened. “What…? Who?”

Silence. Then, as if someone pressed a hand over the corpse’s mouth, the voice vanished. He forced himself to keep working. One body.

Then another. And another. Each with its own song, some soft, some broken, some screaming. Chris tried to shut them out. He couldn’t.

He whispered apologies under his breath, gentle words carried by shaking hands. When he reached the fifteenth body, a new voice cut through his concentration.

“Well, well… look what the nobles dragged out.”

Chris froze. A tall man in a black coat leaned casually against a table, arms crossed, dark eyes measuring him. “I know you,” the man said. “You’re the bone-empty husband who got thrown out today.”

Chris’s face heated. “Please… don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It’s what everyone’s calling you.”

“Because it’s not true.”

The man raised a brow. “Is that so?” He stepped closer. “Then tell me, how’d you save the governor’s kid last night?”

“I… I listened.”

“To what?”

Chris hesitated. “Bones.”

The man studied him. Too carefully. Too knowingly. Then he extended a hand. “Name’s Marco. Investigator. Off the books.”

Chris didn’t shake it. Marco smirked. “Smart. You trust too easily, you get burned. Or divorced.”

Chris flinched. Marco continued. “Tell me something, kid. You heard anything… strange… since you got here?”

Chris hesitated. “Like what?”

“Like voices.”

Chris’s heart stopped. He took a step back. “You, you’re making fun of me.”

Marco’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not.”

“I don’t know who you are,” Chris said, voice trembling. “But please, just let me do my job.”

Marco leaned in. “Someone killed those people, Chris. It wasn’t the plague. And you know it.”

Chris’s breath froze. “You’re wrong.”

“No,” Marco said quietly. “I’m not. And you? You’re the only one who can hear the truth.”

“How” Chris whispered. “How would you know that?”

Marco smirked slightly. “Because I’ve met one of your kind before.”

“My… kind?”

“Bonekeepers.”

Cold shot through Chris’s spine. “That’s impossible,” he whispered. “They’re”

“Extinct?” Marco finished. “Yeah. That’s what the nobles want people to think.”

Chris shook his head. “You’re mistaken. I’m nobody.”

“You’re a lot of things,” Marco said, “but you’re not nobody.”

Before Chris could respond, Ben shouted from the back room. “Oakwood! Clean-up’s piling up!”

Marco gave Chris a final look. “We’ll talk again.”

“I don’t want to.”

Marco smirked. “Doesn’t matter. You’re already involved.”

The moment he left, the bone songs surged, louder, harsher, desperate. Chris clutched the metal table. “Stop, please,  one at a time”

Dozens of voices collided in his skull. We were killed, not sick, not sick, the armored one,  the hunter, he came for us, he’s coming again.

Chris dropped to one knee, breath choking. “Who?” he whispered. “Who killed you? Who’s coming?”

A voice answered, sharper than the others: Valeforge.

Chris’s blood turned to ice. “No,” he whispered. “No, he wouldn’t—he”

Ben stomped in. “Oakwood! What part of ‘wash the bodies’ involves kneeling like you’re praying?”

Chris forced himself up. “Sorry— I just— I’m dizzy”

He hunts Bonekeepers, the corpses whispered.

He hunts you.

Chris squeezed his eyes shut. Ben threw a soaked cloth at him. “Slacking on your first day. Useless.”

“I’m trying,” Chris whispered.

“Try harder.”

Chris resumed scrubbing. But the voices wouldn’t stop. Prince… Run… Hide… He’s coming…

“Who?” Chris whispered desperately. “Who’s coming for me?”

A corpse’s fingers twitched. Chris stumbled back in horror. Ben didn’t notice. But Chris did. The whisper slithered through the air like smoke:

The one your wife serves.

Chris’s stomach twisted violently. “Jenna?” he choked. “Jenna sent someone?”

Not someone. Something. A heavy, metallic thud echoed from the hallway outside the corpse-wash. Then another. And another. Ben frowned. “What the hell is that?”

Chris felt the air tighten. The bones went silent.

He’s here.

Chris’s pulse stopped. The door handle turned slowly. Metal scraped. Breath caught in Chris’s throat. Ben stepped forward. “Who’s there?”

The door creaked open. And a man stepped inside, tall, armored in black bone, eyes glowing faintly through a visor made entirely of sharpened ivory.

Chris’s entire body went cold. The armored figure pointed a bone-forged blade directly at him. Ben sputtered. “Hey, what do you think you’re”

The figure spoke, voice distorted and ancient. “Christopher Oakwood.”

Chris stumbled backward. “Who, who are you?”

“You are to come with me.”

Ben shouted, “Back off! He’s working”

The figure didn’t even look at him. A whip of bone lashed out, striking Ben across the chest and throwing him into a table. Chris gasped. “No, leave him alone!”

The hunter took a step toward Chris. “You survived longer than expected,” he said. “But your awakening ends tonight.”

“My… awakening?”

“Accept your fate, Bonekeeper.”

Chris trembled violently. “I’m not,  I’m not what you think I am”

“Yes,” the hunter said, raising the blade.

“You are exactly what they fear.”

The blade swung. Chris threw up his hands, and the bones in the room screamed.