An eerie green glow hung over the land as necromantic wards hummed faintly in the air. Near the crossroads between Grin Hollow and their new coastal city, Potabeau stood proudly in the middle of what could only be described as a menagerie of undead creatures. Bones, decayed feathers, and sinew adorned the various zombie animals milling about behind sturdy iron fences, their lifeless gazes somehow managing to convey curiosity—or perhaps hunger.

  Azrath stood at the entrance, his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised as he observed a zombie deer try to gnaw off a fence post. "I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking at here."

  Potabeau turned to him with a flourish, spreading his arms wide. "Welcome, my friend, to the world’s first zombie zoo!" He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "I call it... Potabeau’s Putrid Pavilion."

  Azrath stared at him, deadpan. "Putrid Pavilion?"

  Potabeau shrugged. "Alliteration sells, Az. Besides, who wouldn’t want to see a zombie squirrel or a reanimated bear cub? It’s educational *and* entertaining."

  Azrath sighed, stepping closer to examine one of the enclosures. Inside, a zombie fox paced back and forth, its movements unnervingly smooth for something that had no skin left.

  "This is... certainly an achievement," Azrath admitted reluctantly. "Though I’m not sure what the ethical implications are for turning nature’s creatures into undead exhibits."

  Potabeau waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, please. These animals were already dead when I found them. I just asked some young necromancers studying at Grin Hollow to give them a second chance to, uh, contribute to society."

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  Azrath arched an eyebrow. "Contribute how, exactly?"

  "By making people laugh or scream. Either works." Potabeau smirked and leaned against the fence. "But you’re missing the big picture, Az. Doesn’t all this make you wonder about the grand tapestry of life—and unlife?"

  Azrath tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. "Go on."

  Potabeau gestured broadly to the zombie animals around them. "Think about it. These creatures share some basic similarities—bones, muscles, organs, all that squishy stuff. But they’re also wildly different in size and function. What if, I don’t know, they all came from a common ancestor? Something... bigger."

  Azrath blinked, taken aback by the unexpected insight. "That’s an interesting conjecture. You’re suggesting these creatures radically changed their appearance over time, adapting to their environments?"

  "Exactly!" Potabeau said, pointing at a zombie crow perched on a nearby fence. "That thing used to be bird, right? Maybe it came from some ancient, much larger creature too."

  Azrath’s mind raced as he considered the implications. "If that’s true, then somewhere in the fossil record—or even buried deep beneath our feet—there might be evidence of these supersized ancestors. Perhaps even megafauna with necromantic potential."

  Potabeau’s eyes lit up. "Megafauna? You mean, like, giant bears? Mammoths? Zombie whales?"

  "Possibly," Azrath said, nodding. "If their remains are intact enough, we could reanimate them and study their physiology, their adaptations... their power."

  Potabeau grinned wickedly. "Forget the Putrid Pavilion. Imagine an Undead Safari. Giant zombie elephants stomping through the countryside. Zombie sea serpents patrolling the coast!"

  Azrath sighed. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The goal would be scientific discovery, not creating a spectacle."

  "Why not both?" Potabeau said, winking.

  Azrath shook his head, though he couldn’t suppress a small smile. Potabeau’s unorthodox approach often bordered on absurdity, but there was no denying that his creativity sparked ideas that Azrath wouldn’t have considered on his own.

  As they walked through the zoo, Azrath began taking notes, theorizing about how necromancy could be used to explore evolutionary biology. Perhaps the necromantic energy itself had a role to play in how certain creatures adapted—or failed to adapt—over time.

  By the time they reached the exit, Azrath felt a renewed sense of curiosity.

  "You know," he said, turning to Potabeau, "this ridiculous zoo of yours might actually lead to something significant."

  Potabeau beamed. "I knew you’d come around. Now, let’s go find ourselves a zombie mammoth."

  Azrath chuckled, shaking his head. "One step at a time, Potabeau. One step at a time."

  As they left the Putrid Pavilion, the undead creatures behind them groaned and shuffled, oblivious to the role they might one day play in uncovering the secrets of the past—and perhaps reshaping the future.