The palace garden grew neatly from the earth-sewn roof of the third-tallest tower. Thin spindly trees with leaves as green as emeralds shed their precious stones with the passing breeze. As they fell, they mingled with the tall blades of stark green grass and the already downed bristles of other trees with thicker, straighter trunks. There were rows of exposed soil cut deliberately into the green – beds for all manner of exotic flower and fruit – and about the perimeter was a high white wall, enclosing the ethereal space and rescuing it from the view of the far murkier landscape.

On the edge of the garden, beside a tall rosebush, was Prince Huburn. He looked exactly as you might expect a prince to look. A regal coat adorned with polished golden buttons and a pristine white ruff, fit snugly over a silk shirt. His trousers were cropped just below the knee, revealing the tall white stockings underneath. On his feet he wore a pair of immaculate brown leather boots – so clean they were that it was impossible to tell from their state whether he had walked into the garden in which he now stood, with its dewy grass and tight stretches of mud, or rather levitated over it.

The rosebush that loomed over him – for he was barely five feet in height, even in princely heels – had some of  the most vivid reds Grimm had ever seen, somehow outshining the expensive scarlet of the Prince’s coat.

Delicately, he toyed with the flower closest to his face – stroking velvety petals with an ungloved hand.

‘Good afternoon, Prince Huburn,’ said the balding servant at Grimm’s side as they together reached the Prince. ‘This is the giant you requested to speak with.’

‘Ah, yes,’ replied the Prince in a wistful voice that made his words sound more like a tune than talking. ‘Thank you, Polk. You may leave us.’

With a bow so low it almost toppled him, the balding man backed away a few steps, before leaving properly. One he was out of earshot, the Prince cast a glance at Grimm, and then returned his attention to the flower between his fingertips.

‘You certainly have a way with words, giant,’ said the young Prince. ‘In only a few short hours you have managed to greatly worry every member of my council.’

‘I’ve not met your council,’ said Grimm, honestly.

‘You have met Rolundin,’ said Huburn. ‘Rolundin is renowned in Volaira for his loose lips. If Rolundin knows, everyone knows…’

‘Fine by me. Makes my job easier.’

‘And mine far more difficult,’ snapped the Prince, letting go of the rose. The flower recoiled as though desperate to get away as its stem relaxed. He turned suddenly to face the giant. ‘I had not anticipated using the entire first day of my reign to clean up the mess of your visit.’

‘It’s either that, or clean up the mess left by your Yahara.’

‘Shade, please. I am not one for hysteria,’ insisted Prince Huburn.

‘Hysteria? Your city is on fire. I hardly think the thing’s name matters.’

‘It matters. As I understand it from your own mouth, the shade is the last vestige of a tortured soul. And they call her Monster. Crass. Since when is it proper to speak ill of the dead?’

‘Her?’ asked Grimm.

Prince Huburn’s face drained. ‘Or him… Fifty-fifty, as they say,’ he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Grimm narrowed his eyes. It was a slight change, but the Prince, with his own wide and fixed on Grimm, could hardly fail to notice. With a laboured sigh, he acquiesced. ‘I assume you have some idea of who the shade might have spawned from?’

‘Not yet. But it shouldn’t take long. Planning on visiting a few taverns in the city. Temples, too. Common haunts for those that like to talk. I should be able to narrow down the log of corpses soon enough.’

‘Don’t bother,’ said the Prince, shaking his head. ‘I think I know who it is. Who it was…’

Grimm raised an eyebrow. ‘I think it’s my mother,’ Huburn went on. ‘She died almost a week ago now. It was a shock to all of us – especially my father. There was no official report regarding the matter – as far as the public are concerned, she took ill and rapidly deteriorated. But it’s a shameful lie – concocted by Zimir and my father. I think he feared how her death might impact our reputation. She took her own life, you see.’

Grimm cocked his head, and stared. ‘Why?’

‘Is it pertinent?’ said the young Prince in a wounded tone.

‘Could be. I’ve never seen a shade in the city before. Maybe I’m just too familiar with the gutter, but it would strike me as very odd if this thing’s host turned out to be one of the few formerly living in luxury, rather than of one of those poor bastards suffering in the stock or the poorhouse. If I’m to cancel my search, I have to have good reason.’

Prince Huburn tried his best to hide a defeated sigh. ‘She was in mourning. Over the deaths of my siblings. Four now passed. Four happy souls snatched by Ahri.’

‘Must’ve been some battle,’ said Grimm.

‘There was no battle. They passed at different times, over the last year or so. All of them. I am the last. From youngest to eldest – just like that. The effect on her was immeasurable. I met with her often in her time of grief, and each time I left knowing there was another part of her broken. Poetic, I suppose. She slit her throat with a shard of shattered mirror. Well? Does that sound plausible?’

‘It does. I couldn’t say for sure – but it’s worth a try.’

Prince Huburn nodded. Returning his attention to the bush, he took hold of another rose – one slightly smaller – and moved it from side-to-side in his hand; his chin high and his eyes narrow. He cocked his head and let out a short hum as what seemed to be some internal deliberation reached its close. Then, with his other hand he withdrew from his belt a dazzling silver knife. The blade was not an inch-wide – perhaps as thick as a quill, and only as long as one too. It glittered like diamond in the light, though it was the fantastic rubies and sapphires that adorned the rest of it which struck Grimm.

‘Do you like it?’ asked the Prince, after catching the giant’s eye on the jewel encrusted hilt. ‘It was a gift from… from her. From my mother. It’s been a truly useful companion. I would let you hold it but… I imagine it’s a bit feeble compared to what you are used to.’

Grimm turned the corners of his mouth downward. ‘Whatever works,’ he said.

The Prince half-smiled, though it was with a lingering stare that made apparent his distrust. With a short flick of his wrist, he cut the flower free from its stem, and then pocketed both it and the knife.

‘You need to see her body? I assume there’s some form of ritual you can perform?’ he then asked in a sudden effort to resume their dealings.

‘No. Shades are protective over their hosts. I wouldn’t get near enough for long enough. Even if I could, I don’t know a spell that would work.’

‘So what then? Stab the thing again? Must that be the answer to all problems? You must have something better than steel?’

‘I do. Moonlight,’ said Grimm. ‘Shades thrive in the sun. The more light, and the stronger it is, the more powerful they become. Think of it like dark shadows on a bright day. That’s why yours was so relentless. So effective.’

‘But the moon is as much a light as the sun…’

‘No. The moon is like a mirror. Reflecting light. Poisoning it. For the same reason tainted light affects vampyrs and wierwolves, it affects shades too.’

‘Then… you mean to kill her…’ Huburn said in a hoarse voice. ‘Tell me, do giants have family?’

‘We do.’

‘And your mother – is she still living?’

‘No.’

The Prince nodded slowly. ‘It appears to me that we may not be so different. I’ve always wondered what the great divide is between your kind and mine. Though I regret to say I have never met a man who knew – nor a giant I was comfortable enough around to ask.’

Grimm laughed. ‘We can be like that,’ he said.

‘So what is it? I look at you and see a man. You seem to me flesh and blood – bone and brains – but you are somehow a mere vague relative to me. As removed as a dog to hare, or a cat to a mouse,’ said Huburn, coincidentally failing to acknowledge the vast difference in their size. ‘It is said that you are in some way soaked in magic, unlike us mere mortals. Even going so far as to feed off of it. To allow it to scatter you for summons as though you were a magician’s familiar. How is it that it affects you so, and us so little?’

‘It’s a complicated history…’ said Grimm, his tone rife with disinterest. ‘In essence, you descend from the dead gods. Men who first touched the earth. Those you worship now… My kind do not.’

‘Then where-from were you conjured?’

Grimm shrugged. ‘Told you it was complicated.’

‘Then, if I am not mistaken, you and I may be very much alike. Very much, indeed. The odds are slim, I will concede, but there is a small chance that we have grown together – mirrored each other in a way. I wonder if we share common goals. If we navigate our worlds in adherence to the same base instincts.’

Grimm did not answer, deliberately allowing time for the Prince to come to the end of his monologue. ‘I wonder, giant. How would you go about destroying that which you hold dearly? Perhaps your answer might inform mine.’

Again, Grimm said nothing. Huburn looked to the giant for a clue, but found his face entirely unreadable. ‘The shade… threatens all. I know that. And yet, I am struggling with the notion of allowing her destruction.’

Grimm frowned. ‘That thing is not your mother,’ he said.

‘No. I know. But… Can’t have one without the other.’ The Prince wandered away from Grimm a short distance, absorbed in thought. ‘Is there another way?’ he asked after a moment.

‘No.’

‘I have heard… from various sources whom I am inclined to believe… that there is.’

‘I’m sure whoever it is, is wrong.’

‘You’re not even willing to try? To listen?’ pleaded the Prince, swivelling on a heel. His eyes bulged, as though threatening to flood his cheeks at any moment. ‘I will pay extra. Double. That’s fourteen-hundred.’

‘I can count,’ said Grimm, bitterly. ‘I don’t need much money. Seven hundred is plenty. Helps if you live long enough to spend it.’

‘Fourteen, or none at all.’

‘You’re very brave. I’m sure your successor won’t be.’

‘Are you threatening me, giant?’

‘Name’s Grimm. And yes.’

Prince Huburn puffed himself up, his brow creased and his jaw clenched – though as he approached the giant, a finger raise to his chin (though not reaching it), he found his courage slip.

Grimm glowered at the man, until he withdrew his finger. ‘For fifteen, I’ll hear it. But know that I have no obligation to help you on this. I won’t risk my life testing the theories of mad men,’ he said.

Huburn gave a shallow bow. ‘Thank you. I don’t expect it to be an easy request – and therefore don’t expect you to accept. But I will sleep better at night knowing I tried,’ he said. ‘I have been made aware that there is a way of expelling the creature. Perhaps, freeing it from its torturous state by means of fulfilment.’

‘You think it wants something?’ asked Grimm, incredulously. ‘Other than tearing us all limb-from-limb, that is?’

‘Yes, I do. I have been informed that shades do retain the fragments of the souls which birthed them. If this is true, then it stands to reason that what might cure the rage and grief of the one departed, might also nullify the shade.’

‘Nullify it? How do you expect me to do that?’

‘Find something that would sooth my mother’s spirit. I believe there is something. There must be…’ Huburn scratched at his hairless chin and stared with frantic eyes at nothing in particular.

Grimm took a deep breath, and then said: ‘I’ll look into it. It’ll keep me occupied while I wait for it to resurface, at the very least.’

‘You’d be doing me a great kindness.’

‘If that’s everything, I’ll be off.’

‘I’ve asked that Rolundin prepare you a room in my house. Make yourself at home,’ said Huburn. ‘Oh, and giant?’

Grimm, who had made a half-turn to leave, looked back toward the Prince. ‘If in your search you find yourself at the door to the Hall of Whispers, please do not attempt to force entry. It is a sacred place reserved for my family, and my family only. Though, worry not – the place is bare. You won’t find anything of use there anyway.’

Grimm nodded, though with a curious expression, before departing from the garden.