Reaper Grimm is a lonely skeleton boy wearing a beak mask from 17th century with a rusting scythe. He looks morbidly at the scythe then swings it smoothly around his head cleanly cutting his head off. His head plonks on to the ground with a thud, nothing, he feels nothing. Not even the void calling out to him because he is already dead. He can't die no mater how much he yearns for it. Being a lost soul, that can only guide other souls to the void is his curse that he's given up on. If he could just die all his torment would be over, however once dead you can not die again. The soul will just keep on living. Reaper hates skeletons, no he loathes them, he loathes that he is one. He cannot do anything in this form, he cannot sleep, cannot eat, cannot drink. He kicks his head sending it flying then stomps towards where it landed. He stops in his tracks.

"Now why would you go doing that hmm," Crowley says laughing. Jake punches him in the gut shaking his head. Casper just looks dumbfound as he picks the head up. He thought he was depressed. A eleven year old kid just chopped his head off then kicked it. His vines wipe off the dirt extending from his fingers, then he pats the bald head and gently puts it on the kids body.

"So how's that?"

"Are you a skeleton or a tree? I don't know if I should hate you," Reaper says eyeing Casper cautiously.

"Don't hate me I'm not going to hurt you, I'll be your friend. If that's ok?"

"My friend?

"Yeah," Casper says patting him on the back, Reaper burst out laughing, then hides his face in Casper chest as he starts crying, no tears just a shriek of pain, agony, and loneliness. To hear such words Reaper cries with all his heart for the world to know what torment he's been through and how happy he is now. Casper holds him tight as he cries like this for a while, Jake and Crowley watching.

"You remind me a lot of my younger brother, whenever he was upset I would tell him a story of a dragon,"

"Can...can... I hear it," Sobs Reaper. Casper nods, and asks Reaper where he wants to sit, he points to his barren home where a tattered lounge and a bed of wilting chrysanthemum. Reaper offers them tea even though he doesn't drink tea, they kindly accept and wait for the brew. A few minutes later everything is set, tea, and biscuits. They all stare at Casper with anticipation.

" During a raging tempest a glittering turquoise egg the size of a football with intricate patterns shaped in the form of waves. Washes onto the river bank of a lone village called "Sunshine" near the middle of the Crocked Mountains, a superstitious group lives. A wise old man just past the age of a century who has seen plenty in his life, catches his eye on the glittering egg. He stumbles and picks it cautiously up brushing the mud off, surprisingly the egg was as light as a feather. He almost mistook it as a turquoise gem washed up from the Blue Heart a stunning mountain on the edge of the Crocked Mountain range. Until he saw the strange patterns that match the description of a Sea storm dragon egg, the Turquoise Tyrant. Little did he know that this dragon egg was going to change the villagers life forever.

A few weeks later the dragon egg hatches, and an infant dragon comes scrawling blindly out as blue as the sky at noon. The old man chuckles as he cleans the green goo and other bits off shell off the baby dragon, the infant sneezes a short burst off flame almost singing the mans snow white scruffy beard. The wise man nurtured and cooed the infant day and night till infant no longer.

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A couple years have passed and the infant, now proud sky tyrant spreads his glorious wings shading the shrubs and long grass with a dazzling blue hazy light. With a push the dragon roars into the sky stretching his wings as far as the sky could let him. He soars through the crocked mountains looking for a good hunt. He spots a hooded figure cornered by dire wolves, wolves ten times stronger and bigger than normal ones with fangs that can crush bones. The dragon roars and lets out a singing burst of flames scaring the pack away, the hooded figure nods then run off, the last he saw was a staff. The staff was matching the wise old man used to bear with him. The dragon looks back at those fleeting fond memories as he gnaws into a delicate deer barely ceasing his appetite. After the dragons hunger has ceased to gnaw at him, he searches for the old hut he once grew up in. Fire, did he smell fire. He soared over and spotted the hut in flames embers bursting out. He let out a mournful cry fearing for the worst. To late the worst has happened the old man staff was shattered by him as he slowly bled out. His hand reached to the sky toward the dragon and smiled whispering the name "Blue". He closes his eyes in peace as his last shallow breaths left him. The villagers that night heard the roar of the mournful tyrant. A brave villager went to see what was happening and saw the ferocious dragon, the burning hut, and the wise old man.

From then on the turquoise tyrant was banished from the village. The dragon never felt so lonely. Not even priceless trinkets could bring happiness to the mournful soul. No matter what he did that day always haunted him. He didn't blame the villagers or the wise old man, he blamed himself from straying from home at his young age.

Decades passed, till the dragon had enough and was about to head back when a hooded figure scrambled into the dark gloomy cave. His lair who dares trespasses what sacred territory he has left. The hooded figure with the same staff as his father. Could it be him, the one he rescued earlier. If so then why does he have his old mans sacred gem. He stole it. This thief was the culprit for everything, he could see it in the mans green malicious eyes brimming with evil. Before he could utter his roaring rage the figure saps his magical energy making him weak. He thanks the dragon for the meal and promises to say hello to the villagers, with that he vanishes from the cave. Full of raging fury the dragon staggers to the blinding entrance, groggy he spreads his wings with as much effort as possible. He launches into the sky and rushes to the village as best he can in his state.

Late again. The dark wizard torments the villagers giving them terrible nightmares to fight. The dragon breathes in deeply then lets out a bellowing roar. Nothing changes, he tries burning the wizard but the emerald draws it in as energy making the wizard more powerful. A last resort was needed the only way to win this fight is one magic word that means energy absorption. Enclassindora. with that the wizards magic is drawn and all other evil magic in the area to the dragon. Absorbing all he can muster, then with one final push of energy the dragon vanishes becoming the sky.

From then on the villagers celebrate and worship the dragon that has become the sky. Whenever a storm happens the villagers believed it to be the evil wizard and the glorious sky dragon Blue. This goes on till the dragon becomes a myth and the story is told at bed time.

My brother always believed the dragon to be alive looking down on the village, that made him happy."

"That story just makes me more sad, although now I think about it it's more bittersweet, thank you for sharing and trying to cheer me up." says Grimm

"Wow that's one wicked story, where did you come up with that." Crowley ruffles Casper's hair playfully giving him thumbs up.

"A merchant told me the story from the Crooked mountains." Casper says blushing

"The dragon did exist it lives on in another realm like this one." States Jake who really enjoyed the story.

"So do you guys want to see the town," Reaper says more cheerful.