Shadows swirled around me. I was covered in darkness, my only solace.
From the darkness, I emerged. Just like the time my father had first transformed into his original form of the grim reaper.
My cloak fit me like a second skin. My hair was flying in all directions as if electrocuted by my growing energy.
In my hand was the very object that identified me as the grim reaper. The scythe. It was long with a black rod and a pointy blade at the end.
The shadows never left my side but settled into my cloak in different places. I was floating an inch above the floor, my skin casting an eery glow around the room.
My presence was enough to fill the entire room. It was entirely covered by my dark energy.
I tested my blade, swishing it through the air in a clean swipe. It was perfectly lightweight, so I had no trouble lifting it.
I understood why my father liked his blade so much now. This felt right as if I was meant to hold this blade.