Suresh's Melancholy

Suresh woke late by 9:14 AM.

His phone alarm had failed three times because he unconsciously dismissed it in his sleep.

He stared at the ceiling for several seconds before sitting up slowly.

Outside his enormous rectangular window, the calm and peaceful garden outside glittered beneath pale morning sunlight.

He seemed to be in a very good mood and finished his morning activities faster. 

He had sensed that his dragon had returned and went to talk to him. 

The corridors echoed.

Most residents were away.

The Dragon Master had dispatched nearly everyone across various universes during the past week.

The nine young couples were scattered across missions.

All the dragons were gone with their partners. 

Even Nemo & Shadow-Blade are on some missions in Dragonesia. Only few remained here in The Citadel and that may change anytime as anyone can return at any time. As that’s the type of work the Dragon Warriors do.

Automatic lights activated softly as Suresh walked through curved hallways lined with enormous windows overlooking courtyards or gardens of the castle. 

Around noon, he climbed the eastern battlements carrying a cold canned coffee.

The ocean wind hit immediately.

Far across the plains, the Ghost King’s palace shimmered faintly atop the island’s lone mountain.

Nearby dragon perches sat empty.

Normally dozens of dragons rested there:
sleeping,
arguing,
Sunbathing, lazily dozing…

Suresh leaned against the stone railing. 

Then the scorpion bracelet materialized around his wrist and it clicked.

Tiny metallic legs unfolded slightly against his skin.

“What’s this?” Suresh muttered immediately.

Green fire spiraled upward from the bracelet.

A skeletal warrior materialized before him wearing ancient Egyptian armor covered in faded gold markings. Blue flame flickered inside empty eye sockets.

The undead Commander bowed deeply.

“My master.”

The bracelet allowed Suresh to speak ancient Egyptian fluently. He still found this deeply unsettling after so many years. 

“What’s up? You never appear before me unless called!”

“Nothing wrong, my lord.”

“That answer somehow worries me more.”

The Commander straightened carefully.

“It's an honor to serve you, my lord. The legion humbly requests permission for a holiday tomorrow.”

Silence.

The ocean wind moved slowly around them.

Suresh blinked once.

“A what?”

“A holiday, my lord.”

“You’re undead.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“What exactly are you resting from?”

The Commander hesitated.

“We are uncertain.”

Suresh stared at him.

“You’ve served me for years and suddenly discovered vacation?”

“One skeleton sat down accidentally last month,” the Commander explained solemnly. “Morale improved afterward.”

Suresh rubbed his forehead.

“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“The legion wishes to spend one day in leisure, my lord”

“You haven’t had assignments in weeks.”

“We would like to relax professionally.”

“That sentence should not exist.”

The Commander bowed again.

“So… permission granted?” he asked carefully.

Suresh sighed.

“Fine. Tomorrow is officially a holiday.”

Blue fire brightened faintly inside the Commander’s skull.

“The legion rejoices internally, my lord.”

“You don’t have internal organs.”

“Nevertheless.”

The Commander vanished into green flame.

Suresh remained motionless.

Then quietly whispered to himself:

“The undead have developed labor rights.”

  * * * * *

Puzzling over the situation, he met Galadmir in the vast dining hall and sat beside him. 

Galadmir always looked annoyingly relaxed. His hair tied behind his neck. Sleeves rolled up carelessly. Barefoot despite repeated warnings from house elves.  

“Hey, what’s up? What are your plans when you are here?” asked Suresh trying to sound cheerful. 

“Nothing, the usual. The Ghost King is holding a formal meeting tomorrow evening, and there’s a party afterward. Seems like most of the important ghost nobles will be there. He invited us too,” said Galadmir cheerfully. 

Suresh relaxed slightly.

“At least both of us or one of us can attend. Or the brothers can attend”

“Probably.”

As they were on their way out of the castle, Suresh wanted to ask for an opinion on the Undead’s vacation request, but the laboratory wing exploded nearby.

A deep BOOM shook the entire corridor.

Black smoke immediately rolled past the laboratory doors.

Neither man reacted for two full seconds.

Then both sighed simultaneously.

“The brothers,” Galadmir muttered.

They walked toward the laboratory wing.

Ringo emerged through smoke coughing violently. Behind him, part of the ceiling glowed purple.

“Minor issue,” Ringo wheezed.

“You’re on fire,” Suresh informed him.

“Yes, but academically.”

House elves sprinted past carrying extinguishers, enchanted blankets, and one deeply terrified robotic vacuum cleaner. 

From somewhere inside the laboratory, Wingo shouted:

“DON’T TOUCH THE GREEN BUTTON!”

A second explosion answered him immediately.

Galadmir peered through the smoke.

“Why is gravity sideways in there?”

“Temporary setback,” Ringo coughed.

A chair floated past upside down.

Neither Suresh nor Galadmir questioned it further. This was normal for the brothers.

“Would either of you be able to attend the Ghost King’s party tomorrow evening?” Suresh asked hopefully.

Ringo coughed smoke from his lungs.

“Sorry, bros. We’ve got some serious testing calculations to finish, and one of us needs to stay near the machine in case it destabilizes again. My humble apologies.”

Somewhere inside the laboratory, another explosion rattled the walls.

Suresh felt a small knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach.

  * * * * *

The second problem arrived during the evening.

Suresh was crossing one of the outer circular corridors when his phone vibrated.

Galadmir’s message appeared. He’s off on a task in Dragonesia.

Suresh stopped walking.

No.

No no no.

He immediately understood the problem.

The scorpion bracelet’s undead legion could only remain physically manifested within several metres of him.

If Suresh attended the Ghost King’s gathering at the palace—

the undead holiday would collapse instantly.

But if nobody from the Citadel attended the gathering—

the Ghost King would be deeply hurt.

The Dragon Warriors and the Ghost King went back years.

The Ghost King was one of the closest friends the residents of the Citadel had. Missing his gathering would not look good, and it could strain the long friendship between him and the Dragon Warriors.

He had been the Citadel’s very first ally. Long ago, he had helped the Dragon Warriors through some of their worst times, and in return they had stood beside him when he built his kingdom atop the mountain.

The King was deeply fond of the Warriors. If nobody attended the gathering, he would genuinely feel hurt.

And now Suresh had somehow become trapped between undead labor laws and diplomatic friendship.

He walked slowly toward the battlements.

Outside, evening wind swept across empty plains.

Far away atop the mountain, pale blue lights flickered from the Ghost King’s palace.

Visible.

Constantly visible.

Suresh stared at it miserably.

Then sat heavily against the cold stone wall.

“This is stupid,” he muttered.

  * * * * *

He barely slept.

Every solution will fail.

Remote manifestation spells.

Portal anchors.

Projection magic.

Nothing worked.

By morning, dark circles sat beneath his eyes.

The undead legion assembled across the plains outside the Citadel as evening approached. Suresh grew increasingly anxious as the Ghost King’s gathering drew nearer, desperately hoping a solution would suddenly come to him.

One thousand ancient Egyptian undead warriors stood silently beneath gray skies.

Skeleton soldiers.

Mummified archers.

Ancient cavalry.

Their banners moved slowly in the wind. 

Suresh walked among them while trying unsuccessfully not to look stressed.

“So,” he said awkwardly. “You’re all relaxing now.”

Nobody moved.

Finally one skeleton raised a hand.

“My lord.”

“Yes?”

“What activities produce enjoyment?”

Suresh froze.

Another mummy spoke.

“Are we permitted to stand casually?”

A third asked:

“Should leisure maintain military formation?”

Suresh slowly looked around.

The undead stood in perfect combat rows despite technically being on vacation.

None of them knew what to do.

The Commander approached quietly.

“My lord,” he said, “many soldiers no longer remember life before death.”

Something inside Suresh sank heavily.

Around him, ancient warriors stood motionless under endless gray sky.

Not one remembered celebration.

Or rest.

Or ordinary happiness.

Then distant music drifted across the plains.

Suresh turned sharply.

Across the empty land between the Citadel and the mountain, spectral blue lanterns suddenly bloomed into existence by the hundreds.

Ghostly figures floated across the plains carrying tables, instruments, banners, and glowing decorations.

At their center stood the Ghost King.

Suresh stared.

Then slowly looked toward the mountain.

Then back toward the Ghost King.

The Ghost King approached, smiling faintly.

“You looked distressed yesterday.”

“You knew?”

“You spent twenty minutes staring dramatically at my palace from the battlements.”

“That narrows nothing down.”

The Ghost King looked toward the undead army. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“They wished for celebration, they don’t remember how,” he said softly. 

“Then we shall remind them.”

He raised one hand.

Music erupted across the plains.

Ghost musicians began playing ancient instruments beneath floating lanterns.

Spectral nobles moved among the undead.

One ghost grabbed a confused skeleton and forced him into dancing.

The skeleton moved with terrifying military precision for several seconds before awkwardly improving.

Nearby, a mummy became emotionally fascinated by grilled corn despite lacking digestive organs.

Slowly, the rigid military formations dissolved.

Small groups formed.

Conversation appeared.

Laughter echoed.

One skeleton tapped his foot unconsciously to music.

Another began humming an ancient melody he apparently never experienced before.

And for the first time since Suresh had summoned them into modern existence, the undead no longer looked like an army.

Hours later, Suresh stood alone near the center of the plains.

Behind him:
music,
ghosts,
floating lanterns,
awkward dancing,
and one thousand dead soldiers attempting to remember life.

The Citadel stood dark in the background, the Ghost King’s palace glowed pale blue atop the mountain. 

The Commander approached quietly beside him.

“My lord.”

Suresh looked over.

Several undead soldiers sat together nearby watching spectral fireworks rise above the island.

“Yes?” Suresh asked softly.

The Commander watched them silently for a moment.

Then said:

“The legion requests another holiday next year.”

Suresh looked across the empty plains between the palace and the Citadel.

Tonight they were no longer empty.

He smiled faintly.

“Approved.”

Above them, lanterns drifted slowly into the night sky while ocean winds crossed the silent island.

And between the Citadel and the mountain palace, the dead forgot war for one night.

  * * * * *