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Zayn Darkshadow doesn't wake up at the crack of dawn. Or 7 am. Or 6 am. He doesn't wake up, because he doesn’t sleep. He doesn't eat, either, so his mornings before school usually are comprised of waking up other members of the household and then chatting to them about their sleep and dreams as the rest of Mordred Manor gets ready for their day. Adaine needs a new bar of soap? No problem, Zayn’s dropping it off right outside the bathroom. Jawbone can’t find that cardigan that’s been buried in the back of the closet? Easy, Zayn will swoop right in to help him get it. Lydia can’t reach the pepper in the cupboard? Zayn’s there for her.
He attends school alongside his friends, The Bad Kids, at Aguefort Adventuring Academy and is the school’s only ghost student. He may have died a year and a half ago, but honestly, things have been looking up since then. It’s great to float around, and you can't get any more ’goth’ than actually being dead; it’s done wonders for his pale complexion. School is normal and boring, though, so let’s not delve into that.
It’s the weekend that Zayn ‘lives’ for, when there’s no concern for homework or accidentally passing through a random kid in the hallways who inevitably hates the iciness that accompanies such an act. It’s when he takes time for himself and to get to better know those around him.
It’s when, for example, he has his morning talk with Lydia Barkrock. It’s usually mid-morning when, after everyone has finished breakfast and gone their separate ways – The Bad Kids usually meeting up at the mall or Seacaster Manor, Jawbone heading outside to tend to his garden, and Sandra Lynn taking Baxter the griffin out for a fly about over the nearby Far Haven Woods – that it leaves just Zayn and Lydia alone. After one day when Zayn floated downstairs he noticed Lydia looking forlornly out the window, he decided that it would be good to chat with her, and it’s become a tradition. Lydia brews herself some tea and she and Zayn discuss how the past week’s been for both of them.
Later, when Jawbone and Sandra Lynn return, Zayn takes the time to work on his poetry, doing his best to perfect his rhymes and meter, and often taking breaks to play with Edgar, his rat familiar. Their favorite game? Hide and seek, where Edgar hides in the walls or under furniture and Zayn floats around the house trying to find him. Later in the afternoon, sometimes another member of the RVS – Reformed Villains Squad – will show up, and he and Aelwyn will talk about spells, or he and Ragh will talk about parties. These visits are few and far between, however, and most afternoons are spent researching necromancer spells or more poetry studies.
At night, Zayn will head over to the Cravencroft Cemetery next door, hanging with other ghosts and reciting his new poetry. At home, he likes to discuss runes and other wizardry spells with Adaine, or help Fig play pranks on Kristen. Later at night, when it’s almost morning, every now and then he catches a goblin who can’t sleep checking up on his friends. He never says anything, but just watches with interest.
Those are most weekends, though not one is the same as another. But some weekends; some weekends are special.
Occasionally The Bad Kids host sleepovers at Mordred Manor, and Zayn loves those nights. He knows he’s a teenager, but during sleepovers is when he actually feels that youth. Gossiping and playing Truth or Dare until all hours of the night, playing games to decide what movie to watch, and then everyone grouping together to watch the flick, popcorn inevitably being thrown when Fabian loudly asks someone to explain the film’s plot because he wasn’t paying attention. It’s just fun with friends, and it feels right.
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Zayn pops his daily ‘Midnight Ice’ body temperature pill, feeling the cooling effects wash over him. As cold as the grave, he thinks to himself with a smirk. It feels good, the chills running down his arms and legs as the magical medicine takes its hold. He breathes out, a puff of cold air crystalizing before him and then dissipating. He heads over to the cage where he keeps Edgar, his rat familiar, and opens the little wire cage door. The rat leaps out and crawls up his arm, nestling on his shoulder and in the nape of his neck. The rat squeaks happily when Zayn reaches up and scratches him under the chin.
“It's just you and me, bud,” Zayn whispers to the rat. He looks around his small apartment. It perpetually smells like old pastrami and day-old bread thanks to the deli down below, but Zayn doesn't mind. He’s got a safe space and is no longer living in the orphanage or on the street. He has a place to keep what’s precious to him, like Edgar. The sound of ringing catches his attention and he moves over to his small, cluttered desk and fishes out a crystal. A voice on the other end asks him where he is so he can get his new mission. He inwardly sighs – more stooge work for the Harvestmen – but the stipulations Coach Daybreak gave him were that if he worked for him and the Harvestment, he could continue his lonely little existence above the deli, so he stifles his contempt and answers truthfully.
“Perfect,” the voice says, and the call ends abruptly. A few moments later a knock comes at the door, and Zayn moves to open it. There before him stands someone in sweatpants, shirt, and a scarecrow mask.
“New orders for you,” a young, vaguely familiar voice grunts. A sneakered foot rises up and kicks Zayn squarely in the gut, causing him to double over and reel backwards in pain. A massive two-handed sword slides off of the assailant’s back with a cliché *shing* and the young masked man holds it in front of him in an offensive stance.
“Coach says you gotta die,” they said, and they lurch forwards into the small apartment, slashing at Zayn. Edgar, panicking, leaps off Zayn and runs out the opened door squeaking pitifully. Zayn turns to go after his familiar, but the foot once again kicks him – this time in the shins – and Zayn falls to the ground.
“Nice knowin’ ya, freak,” the masked man says with a sneer, before he runs his sword through Zayn, draining him of his life. Zayn feels colder than ever as everything fades to black.