In the library, I delight in discovering other worlds. The library is my home, and in my suicide note I plan to say that I would like to be buried with a copy of Candlewax and Poppyseeds, a book of simple 'dark' magic I unearthed some time ago and promptly fell in love with.

I expect the Master will be his usual pitiless self today, perhaps choosing some poor innocent to suffer his wrath; he is one of my idols as a teacher, he is so profound and forthright, unafraid of society's eye but shying from the light. He is a picture of how I see my father once was, perhaps not in physical appearance but in demeanor. Though I slouch into my seat, I sit up with respect as he enters the room and begins writing on the board. Everyone is already copying it down word for word, knowing he will not slow down but be ready to begin as soon as he finishes writing. Hmm... Today will we are learning to create a chemical solution that would remove all traces of blood from anything; a most useful creation in my opinion. And not too difficult, if one has any skill in this area-which I do.

Nearly done now, all I need to do is use my pen-knife to spill a bit of blood on my cloak to test it. Look, the professor wants to use me as an example. Carefully bring the knife across my wrist, trying not to look suspiciously practiced. The room is spinning! I can't see! My eyes closed, I watch myself plunge the knife into the base of my throat and lose all consciousness. Collapsed in a growing pool of shadowy blood, I fade away...