The gates of Nevermore groaned open in the cold wind. Dark clouds hung low, heavy and gray, as if waiting to release a storm. The tall school stood in the distance, sharp and cold, its windows glowing faintly like watchful eyes.
Students filled the courtyard. Their voices were low, nervous, as they waited to see the new principal. Some looked hopeful, others worried. The air was full of unease.
Dr. Helena Grieve stepped forward. She was tall, her black hair cut short, her face sharp. Her smile was polite but thin, like a mask she wore out of habit. Her eyes, however, were unreadable—calm, but cold.
Wednesday stood apart from the crowd, her expression blank, though her dark eyes studied the principal with sharp interest. She didn't look nervous like the others. She looked curious, as though she were already measuring Dr. Grieve's strengths and weaknesses.
Enid, standing beside her, shifted anxiously. She whispered, her voice light but uncertain, "She seems nice… don't you think? Not sweet-nice, but, you know, strict-nice."
Wednesday didn't look at her. Her voice was calm, almost bored. "Niceness is only a mask. Masks are only interesting when they crack."
Enid sighed and crossed her arms, trying to hide her unease. "You say creepy stuff like that all the time."
"Because it's always true," Wednesday replied, her eyes still locked on the principal.
Dr. Grieve spoke firmly, her voice steady but carrying a heavy seriousness.
"Students of Nevermore. I honor the memory of Principal Weems. Her loss still lingers, but Nevermore will endure. I promise you safety and order."
The students clapped politely, though their faces showed both respect and uncertainty. Bianca watched closely, her sharp eyes filled with suspicion.
"But," Dr. Grieve continued, her tone growing harder, "things must change. There will be stricter rules. A tighter curfew. And…"—her gaze slid briefly, but clearly, to Wednesday—"…some students will be watched more carefully."
Enid's stomach dropped. She whispered nervously, "Did she just… look at you?"
Wednesday's lips curved ever so slightly, her voice calm but laced with dark amusement. "Yes. She has good instincts. Pity they won't save her."
Enid's chest tightened. She couldn't tell if Wednesday was joking.
That Night
The dorm was quiet except for the harsh clicking of Wednesday's typewriter. The sound filled the room like a steady heartbeat.
Enid lay on her bed, flipping through a magazine, but her eyes were tired. She groaned, covering her face with the pillow. "Do you have to type this late? It's midnight."
Wednesday didn't look up. Her voice was cool and certain. "Creativity has no curfew."
Enid pushed the pillow aside and sat up, frustration in her voice. "What are you even writing this time?"
Wednesday pulled a fresh page from the machine and read, her tone calm and detached:
"The girl screamed only once before the night swallowed her. By morning, she would be found under the willow tree, her body arranged like an unfinished poem."
Enid's eyes widened in shock. Her face paled. "That's… really messed up, Wednesday." Fear tinged her voice, though she tried to laugh it off.
Wednesday stared at the words with quiet satisfaction, almost like she was admiring a painting. "Art is supposed to disturb."
Enid hugged her pillow tightly, nervous laughter escaping her lips. "Sometimes I don't know if you're joking, or if I should call the police."
Finally, Wednesday lifted her gaze. Her eyes were cold and steady, her voice low and chilling. "If you ever needed to call them, Enid, it would already be too late."
Enid froze. Her heart skipped. She forced out a shaky laugh. "Y-you're kidding, right?"
Wednesday said nothing. The silence itself felt heavy, like a weight pressing down.
The Next Morning
The campus buzzed with fear. Word spread quickly: Lila Marrow, a quiet sophomore siren, was missing. Her bed was empty.
Students whispered, their voices full of panic. Teachers tried to calm them, though their eyes betrayed worry. Dr. Grieve stood firmly at the steps, her hands behind her back. Her face showed control, but her sharp gaze revealed concern.
Xavier stormed up to Wednesday, his voice tense and angry. His grip on his sketchbook was tight, his knuckles white. "Did you hear? Lila's gone!"
"I did," Wednesday replied calmly, almost coldly.
Then why aren't you doing anything?" Xavier's voice cracked with frustration. "You've solved stuff like this before. Why don't you care?"
Wednesday tilted her head, her face unreadable. "Maybe because everyone expects me to."
Xavier's eyes widened. Anger and confusion burned in his voice. "What is wrong with you?"
Before Wednesday could reply, Dr. Grieve's strong voice cut across the courtyard. "All students to the great hall. Now."
In the Great Hall
The air inside was thick with fear. Students huddled together, whispering. Some faces were pale, others tense.
Dr. Grieve stood at the front, her voice clear and steady. "Lila Marrow has not been found. We are searching. But I will not let fear spread through these halls. We must stay calm."
Bianca stepped forward, her voice strong but edged with frustration. "With all respect, Principal, this isn't the first time. You can't treat this like nothing."
Dr. Grieve's eyes hardened, but her voice remained even. "I know Nevermore's history, Miss Barclay. But fear spreads faster than truth. I will not let it control us."
Then Wednesday spoke, her tone sharp and certain. "Perhaps the real question is: Why her?"
The hall fell silent. All eyes turned to Wednesday.
"Lila was quiet," she continued calmly. "She wasn't popular, or exceptional. She often wandered after dark. Whoever took her wanted someone easy. Not a challenge."
Students shifted uncomfortably, fear and suspicion spreading in their eyes.
Dr. Grieve studied Wednesday closely, her voice cutting. "You seem very sure, Miss Addams."
Wednesday's lips curved slightly, her eyes dark with hidden amusement. "I'm simply paying attention."
Their eyes locked—two hunters recognizing each other. Tension thickened in the air.
Beside her, Enid felt her heart race. A shiver crept down her spine.
Midnight – The Willow Tree
The storm finally broke. Rain poured, soaking the ground, making the earth soft.
Wednesday walked silently through the night. She carried no light. She moved with calm certainty, as if she belonged to the darkness.
At the edge of the grounds stood the willow tree, its long branches swaying in the storm.
Beneath it lay the body of Lila Marrow.
Just as Wednesday had written.
She knelt beside the lifeless girl. Her face was calm, her touch almost gentle as she adjusted Lila's hands like she was arranging a piece of art.
Her voice was soft, almost tender, filled with quiet satisfaction.
"Art requires sacrifice. And you were necessary."
Lightning flashed, showing a faint smile on her pale face—a smile of pride.
But in the shadows, unseen, a pair of eyes watched.