The drawing was coming into focus. In the oppressive silence of the den, Leo no longer saw the weeping stone walls or Vark's jittery silhouette. His mind had locked onto a single frequency: pure creation. An icy lucidity washed over him. What flowed from his talons was no longer mere ink; it was a physical extension of his own will.
He smiled, a rictus that stretched his purplish skin. The lines he traced upon the vibrating parchment were dark, brutal, and terrifyingly efficient.
— "Draw something you can defend yourself with, Artist!" Vark barked. "Time is wasting, and the spectators hate long monologues!"
Leo ignored the creature. His claw raced across the paper in a frenetic dance. Under his touch, a massive scythe was born a weapon of staggering proportions. He imagined the handle carved from polished white bone, the remains of some forgotten titan. At the junction of the curved blade, he sketched two skulls embedded into the structure, their empty sockets facing outward.
That was when the grimoire reacted.
Around the sketch, words began to appear on their own. A sublime, complex calligraphy coiled around the weapon like silver ivy. It was an ancient language, lines of magical code glowing with a violet radiance, describing the exact functions of the skulls.
Like all his past works, Leo's creations could not remain inert. By injecting his mana into the page, he wasn't just crafting a tool of death; he was forging consciousness.
Suddenly, the drawing literally tore itself from the page.
The ink solidified in a crash of black light. The air in the room froze instantly. The weapon materialized in Leo's hands, heavy with the weight of blood and iron. As soon as the metal touched the air, the two skulls snapped their grinding jaws open.
— "Oh, finally!" the left skull exclaimed in a shrill, cheerful voice. "I was starting to wonder if we'd end up as a glorified bookmark. Tell me, Boss, who are we turning into a jigsaw puzzle first?"
— "Patience, brother," the right skull replied. Its voice was low and sepulchral, echoing as if from a fresh grave. "Look at that little furry thing over there. He looks like he has a very... interesting ribcage to explore."
Vark leapt three meters back, his fur standing on end and his yellow eyes wide with sudden terror.
— "Easy now, you ugly mugs!" the advisor shrieked. "I'm on your side! Well... for now!"
Leo felt the power of the weapon vibrating through his demonic arms. The scythe was surprisingly light despite its size, perfectly balanced. The skulls, though gifted with a cynical and dark sense of humor, seemed tethered to his very thoughts.
— "We'll deal with the advisor later," Leo said, his voice resonating with a new, dark authority. "For now, we have a labyrinth to build."
He raised the scythe, and within the eye sockets of the skulls, a crimson light flickered to life. The show had finally found its lead actor.