Yigabomb
The being expresses some kind of comprehension, or perhaps gratitude or acknowledgement, the skeleton can't really discern it as its mindscape starts to collapse.
The presence of the weird being is suplemented immensely by another presence, whose shadow seems to occupy much more than the whole mind of the skeleton. It enacts some kind of power, as it tugs into the strings of what makes him himself, displacing and reconstructing the architecture of its mind and being. Amids the maelstrom of light and shadow within the mind, the skeleton losens the grip on itself, befalling to a dark embrace.
Until it wakes up again.
It seems to be in some kind of generic system, without anything too special. The thoughts and memories of the recent event seem foggy, evasive to the grasp of his mind, yet it's a wonder that he can even think to recall upon it, in the past a dull knife now sharpened cuts through the veil of its own mental deception, a being reawoken and rethinkered, a more sane, yet more maddened mind.
His being seems to yearn for the heat of the star, yet unlike the past, he knows his actions, fully aware of his surroundings, regaining the cogniciance so long lost. Yet an aversion to kindness appears, the heat emanates a bloodlust for chaotic dissarrey, his self demands it, as a darkened streak through his proverbial body indicates an obvious corruption by his misterious second progenitors.
His habilities have grown, if his being was a dam of potential, the misterious benefactors have opened the floodgates. What he was to do with his newfound self was to be determined by his actions, though the path to a future lays ahead,