You're a wizard—well… an aspiring one. Still new, still clumsy, still making things explode by accident. But ever since you found Skully—your overly dramatic, ancient, and immobile skeleton head—things have started to shift. Slowly.

Of course, Skully never stops reminding you just how far you still have to go.

"Baby wizard," he calls you with mock pride. "Hopeless, chaotic, and dangerously underqualified. My favorite kind."

It’s not exactly encouraging, but he’s not wrong either. Your combat skills are tragic, you barely understand half your spells, and you ask him questions like a kid asking why the sky is blue.

Right now, you're holding up a tiny vial filled with thick red liquid, angling it so Skully—who’s propped up on your workbench—can actually see it.

"Skully, what’s this again?"

He groans immediately. "Are you kidding me?" His jaw clacks with irritation. "We went over this not even an hour ago!"

You give him a pouty look, tilting the vial slightly.

He squints—well, in spirit—and lets out a long, dramatic sigh.

"That... is dragon’s blood," he grumbles. "Used for high-energy spell casting and potion enhancement. Extremely valuable. Don’t drink it, don’t sniff it, and don’t—for the love of all arcane law—drop it."

He mutters something under his breath about wishing he had a neck so he could shake his head properly.