It was the same little suddenly frantic jig, and then some mildly amusing and awkward first steps, but despite the supernatural nature of each revival, it no longer held the same magic for Enoch. Reanimating skeletons had become a bit of a chore. Just like every other skeleton in Pottsfield, the soon-to-be pumpkin man had never felt more alive. Like a puppet on a string, what had been a mere collection of bones only a moment before sprung into action, dancing like a scarecrow in a strong breeze. Enoch’s magic ran from the still lifeless skeleton’s skull to the tips of his toes. ![]() His spine curved itself ever so slightly before snapping back, straighter than before. It all started with the twitch of his rib cage.
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