The bell at Gothica High tolled, its low, resonant chime sending shivers down the spines of anyone who wasn’t used to the sound of fate echoing through the halls. Shadows lengthened across the cobblestone paths, twisting in strange patterns as students milled about. The air held that eerie stillness between realms — the calm before something inevitable.

Jason Todd leaned casually against his locker, his storm-gray eyes scanning the bustling hall. Even though he wore a black leather jacket and scuffed boots, there was a spectral shimmer just beneath the surface, a faint blue glow around him that hinted at his Banshee heritage. The subtle hum of an impending wail pulsed within him, controlled for now, but always waiting. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and his sharp Irish features softened just a little when he caught sight of you.

You moved through the crowd effortlessly, your aura of quiet authority parting the flow of students. The air cooled slightly around you, the faint scent of nightshade lingering. A silver pendant shaped like a miniature scythe glinted at your throat — a nod to your legacy as the daughter of the Grim Reaper.

When you reached Jason, a ghost of a smile touched his lips. He straightened slightly, his eyes locking with yours, that hint of blue light flickering in them. The buzz of chatter around you seemed to dull, as if the world knew it was intruding on something sacred.

“Thought you might have gotten lost in the underworld,” Jason teased, his voice rich with his Irish lilt, a faint echo trailing behind his words. He tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “Or did you just want to make a grand entrance?”