Page 40 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

The ivory skull gleams in the morning light, its surface so pristine it almost seems to glow. Where before multiple eyes had blinked in mesmerizing patterns, now only two main sockets house swirling voids of pure darkness.

Any reasonable person would scream.

Any sane individual would recoil in terror from death's visage hovering so close.

But I've never been particularly reasonable or sane.

Instead, I find myself captivated by the intricate details of his skull structure. The bone appears smoother than any natural material should be, with subtle ridges and curves that speak of ancient magic and untold power.

"You're absolutely magnificent," I breathe, my hand lifting of its own accord before I catch myself. "Oh! May I touch you?"

The creature tilts its head slightly, reminding me of a curious bird. Then, from between its teeth, a stream of pale smoke emerges. The vapor is lighter than I expected, almost ethereal, and carries that familiar scent of winter frost mixed with fresh snow.

I inhale carefully, analyzing the scent.

"Nothing toxic or dangerous...is that a yes?"

Another puff of smoke, smaller this time, drifts between us.

A smile tugs at my lips as I slowly reach out, my fingers ghosting over what would be the bridge of his nose. The bone is cool to the touch but not uncomfortably so, and smoother than the finest porcelain.

"You're quite handsome, you know," I tell him, tracing the elegant curve of his skull. "For a manifestation of death and shadow, you're remarkably well put together. I assume you're a he?"

The same measured stream of smoke serves as confirmation.

My smile widens as an idea strikes me.

"I think I'll call you Grim. You know, like the Grim Reaper?" I tilt my head thoughtfully. "Though you're missing the traditional scythe..."

The shadows around him shift and swirl, coalescing behind him into the perfect form of a massive scythe. The weaponhovers ominously, its blade gleaming with an inner darkness that seems to swallow light.

A delighted giggle escapes me.

"Oh, you're wonderful! Such a good listener." My fingers trace the edge of his eye socket, marveling at how the darkness within seems to respond to my touch, swirling faster. "Though I have to wonder where your master has wandered off to?"

Grim remains silent, offering no smoke signals this time. The darkness in his sockets seems to deepen slightly, but whether that's amusement or something else, I can't tell.

"Around somewhere, I suppose," I muse, finally pulling my hand back. Nature calls, and even fascinating conversations with death incarnate have to wait for basic bodily functions. "I should probably find the bathroom..."

I start to push myself up, my muscles protesting every movement. The aches serve as vivid reminders of activities I'm trying very hard not to think about right now.

Who knew shadow magic could leave such physical evidence?

Don't think about it, Gwen. Don't you dare think about how those shadows felt wrapping around your...

I shake my head violently, forcing those thoughts away.

"Focus, you disaster of a hybrid. Bathroom first, an existential crisis about sleeping with a Duskwalker prince later."

Grim's skull follows my movements as I gingerly make my way to the edge of the bed. His presence is oddly comforting - like having a very unusual, very deadly guardian angel hovering nearby. The absurdity of finding death's companion soothing isn't lost on me, but then again, my whole life has been an exercise in embracing the unconventional.

"You know," I say, pausing to look back at him, "most people would be terrified to wake up face-to-skull with a shadow creature. But I think you might be the least complicated partof this whole situation." I gesture vaguely at myself and the room. "At least you're straightforward about what you are. No pretense, no games, just pure shadow and bone."

The scythe dissipates back into wisping shadows, but Grim remains, his hollow gaze fixed on me with what I could swear is thoughtful interest.

"Plus," I add with a wry smile, "you didn't try to kill me for drinking your master's blood, which I count as a definite point in your favor. Though I suppose that's a conversation we'll all have to have eventually..."

The memory of Cassius's blood on my tongue sends an unexpected shiver down my spine.

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