MC's POV
It had been thrilling at first—accidentally stumbling into a new world. I had read the stories, scrolled through fanfics, watched countless anime about reincarnation. But living it myself… that was something else entirely.
When I was born here, it was into the Morozova family—a bloodline steeped in the manipulation of darkness. My name: Aleksander Morozova.
For generations, my parents and grandparents had mastered the shadows. But I was different. When I turned 15, black wings tore through my back, horns curled from my head. My parents were shocked, terrified even. Until I proved I could weave darkness as they did. Tests confirmed it—I was their son. Their love never faltered.
Still, my powers marked me as something else: Dark Fey. I had seen the movie Maleficent back in my old world. The resemblance was undeniable. Only… I was far stronger. Shadows bent easily to my will, but so too did minds and matter. Telepathy, telekinesis, empathy, even chlorokinesis. Curses and blessings alike rested on my tongue. Nothing felt beyond reach.
And then there was the gift—the thing left behind by whoever had sent me here. A grimoire, heavy with spells drawn from countless worlds across the multiverse. Every page a weapon, a treasure, a key.
At first, I thought this was an ordinary supernatural world. Nothing more. Until my mother mentioned a name in passing. Morticia Addams.
That was the moment everything clicked. I wasn't just in some faceless universe. I was in their universe—one I had only known through a television screen. The Addams Family. The most recent show version, the one fresh in my mind before I died.
Third Person:
Aleksander lounged across the sofa, his lean frame stretched comfortably as he lifted a hand. Pale green energy stirred to life in his palm, hazy and vibrant, flickering like mist caught in sunlight.
With a casual gesture, he drew a toy dragon from the table using telekinesis. It hovered for a second before falling into his grasp. Aleksander smirked, muttering under his breath, "Draca."
The little figure shuddered, then twitched. A beat later, wings of painted plastic beat furiously as the dragon sprang to life, circling the room in uneven loops. Now and then, it exhaled tiny puffs of flame, harmless but vivid enough to cast shadows.
Aleksander laughed, eyes gleaming with mischief—until the doorway darkened. His mother, Cassandra, stepped inside.
She was striking in her own severe way. Blonde hair carefully set, sharp gray eyes that shimmered like liquid metal, although there is still warmth in those eyes. Her arms crossed almost instantly as she frowned.
"Animating your toys again?" Cassandra's voice was clipped, unimpressed. "Last time it was that Gundam model. You nearly launched a miniature rocket through the curtains."
Aleksander winced but offered a quick, half-smile. "Sorry, Mother."
He raised his hand again, this time conjuring a soft burst of golden dust. He blew it gently across the animated dragon now clawing at the tabletop. In an instant, the little creature froze mid-roar, shrinking back into lifeless plastic once more.
Cassandra's sternness gave way to the faintest smile. "Good. Now get up. We're leaving."
Aleksander tilted his head, curious. "Going where?"
"To meet an old friend of mine," she said simply.
He nodded and rose, brushing his messy brown hair back from his honey-brown eyes, still lingering on the toy as if reluctant to let his magic rest.
Wednesday sat in the corner of her room,
she has black hair in two long braids, a fringe over her brow, a pale complexion, dark brown eyes, and black eyeshadow. She is relatively short and is also quite slim. She is wearing black nail polish and, on occasion, black lipstick. Wednesday's wardrobe is completely monochrome, exclusively black and white.
Her bow gliding across her cello strings in a low, ominous melody. The door creaked open without warning. She stopped playing, the sound cutting off like a blade through silence.
Morticia drifted inside, her presence as deliberate as ever.
Wednesday's eyes narrowed. "There's a sign on the door, in plain English. 'Do not enter.'"
Morticia waved a pale hand, dismissing the protest. "I'm your mother, darling. Signs don't apply to me."
Wednesday set the bow down deliberately, studying her. "Then this isn't a social call. What do you want?"
Morticia's lips curved into that measured smile she wore like lipstick. "An old friend of mine is visiting. She's bringing her son. He's about your age. I expect you to be… cordial. Perhaps even friendly."
Wednesday's stare sharpened, her expression unreadable. "Two impossibilities in one request. Impressive."
Morticia's smile slipped, her voice softening. "My little Raven, even shadows need company now and then. You should try having a friend."
Wednesday didn't blink. "I'm perfectly content with solitude. It's consistent and rarely disappointing."
Morticia let out a graceful sigh, as if already accustomed to her daughter's resistance. "Just meet the boy. If he doesn't intrigue you, you can dismiss him like all the others."
Wednesday gave the faintest nod. "Fine. I'll tolerate the introduction. Nothing more."