I see it all like la, la, la

 ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

𝕋ℍ𝔼 library was cloaked in shadow, lit only by the soft amber glow of hanging lanterns and the occasional flicker of candlelight. Rows of ancient shelves loomed overhead like silent sentinels, the air thick with the scent of old paper and secrets long buried.

Wednesday moved silently between the shelves, dark eyes scanning the spines with clinical precision. Thing scuttled beside him along the lower shelf, flipping through volumes with efficient flicks of his fingers.

"I keep seeing that same purple book," Wednesday muttered, more to himself than to the disembodied hand.

Thing responded with a snap of his fingers, then produced a purple book, holding it up expectantly.

Wednesday glanced at it, shaking his head. "The cover was darker. More like a day-old contusion. Keep looking."

His gaze drifted further down the row, until something caught his eye—a book bound in a deep, bruised shade of midnight blue. It almost seemed to shimmer under the dim light, as if resisting being noticed. Intrigued, he pulled it free.

It was a volume on the history of witches—an ominous title etched in tarnished silver. He flipped it open. Faded illustrations of hooded figures, archaic symbols, and stories of persecution filled the pages. But something felt off. Near the middle, several pages had been ripped out—jagged tears where knowledge had once been, leaving behind only speculation.

Before he could study further, the click of heels on stone echoed through the library, followed by a voice that lilted with amused surprise.

"I don't usually find students in here looking for actual books," Miss Thornhill called from the stairwell, her tone light and teasing.

Thing dove into the shadows behind a shelf with a barely audible splat. Wednesday turned his head calmly, already slipping the book under his arm.

"Most sneak in to make out," she added with a soft chuckle.

Wednesday didn't smile. "I accidentally walked in on two vampires fanging each other. I can't unsee that."

Miss Thornhill winced sympathetically. "Occupational hazard, I suppose." She stepped closer, hands gently folded. "Is there something I can help you find?"

Wednesday studied her for a long beat before reaching into his coat. He unfolded a sketch on aged parchment—at the centre, a watermarked symbol shaped like a petal-styled eye within a crescent moon.

"I'm looking for a book. This was the bookmark inside. Familiar?"

Miss Thornhill leaned in, examining the drawing. Her brow furrowed slightly in thought. "I believe that's the sigil of an old student society... The Nightshades."

"Like the deadly flower," Wednesday noted, arching a brow. He turned the paper back toward himself. "Colour me intrigued."

"I was told they disbanded years ago," Miss Thornhill replied, her voice casual—perhaps too casual.

"Any idea why?"

She gave a small smile and shook her head. "Sorry."

Wednesday didn't press further. He slipped the paper into his backpack alongside the book, zipping it shut with deliberate care. Miss Thornhill watched him for a moment longer before her expression softened.

"I was very impressed with your answers in class today."

"My mother is a carnivorous plant aficionado," Wednesday replied without looking up. "I assume I get my red thumb from her." Miss Thornhill smiled at the response, then moved around the table and sat down, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Are you and your mother close?"

Wednesday paused. His fingers brushed the chain around his neck—the one holding Morticia's pendant. He didn't look at her when he answered. "Like two inmates sentenced to life in the same cell block." There was a beat of silence before Miss Thornhill nodded knowingly and said, "I know it can't be easy... showing up mid-semester."

"I've been here a year and a half," she added quietly, "and I still feel like an outsider."

Wednesday finally turned to look at her.

"Because you're the only normie on the staff?" he asked. "Enid and Lilith told me."

Miss Thornhill gave a faint, rueful smile. "To tell you the truth, I've never really fit in anywhere. Too odd for the normies, not odd enough for the outcasts. I thought Nevermore would be different... but some of the teachers still act like I don't exist."

Wednesday tilted his head, considering her. "I act as if I don't care whether people dislike me," he admitted. "But deep down... I secretly enjoy it."

Miss Thornhill stood, the smile returning to her lips. "Never lose that, Wednesday."

He blinked, almost confused. "Lose what?"

She glanced at him with an almost wistful look. "The ability to not let others define you. It's a gift."

Wednesday's gaze lowered for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Doesn't always feel that way."

"The most interesting plants," she said as she walked slowly away, "grow in the shade. Besides..." She turned at the end of the row, her voice soft but firm, "you're not the only plant that's in the shade." He watched her pause, then continue on, her footsteps fading into the quiet hum of the library.

"And if you ever need someone to talk to," she added, just before she disappeared down the hall, "the door to the conservatory is always open." Wednesday stood still, the echo of her words lingering long after she'd gone. Then he turned back to the shelves, but something had shifted—just slightly—in the way he looked at the shadows. The hunt for the purple book continued... but so did something deeper, tugging at the edges of mystery and something almost like trust.

🥀

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an amber glow through the windows, Xavier entered his dorm room, his breathing still heavy from a late run. Without noticing anything amiss, he made a beeline for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The sound of the shower soon filled the room.

From behind a curtain near the closet, Wednesday emerged, dressed in his civilian clothes rather than his usual uniform. Thing crawled out beside him.

"That purple book has to be around here somewhere," Wednesday muttered. "Start investigating."

While Thing skittered off to search the shelves and drawers, Wednesday made his way to Xavier's art book resting on the desk. He flipped through the pages quickly—landscapes, dark abstract sketches—until one caught his eye. A portrait of Lilith. She held a candle, her gaze intense, as if the drawing itself watched him. He stared at it a moment longer before slipping his hand into his backpack, pulling out a compact blue flashlight.

Click.

He turned off the room light and began scanning the floor for prints. The faint residue of something on the wooden boards beneath Rowan's bed caught his attention. Wednesday dropped to the floor and crawled under, lifting a loose floorboard with ease.

Inside was a bird-like mask.

"Rowan's full of surprises," he muttered, placing the mask carefully into his bag. As he stood up and brushed dust off his sleeves, a knock echoed from the door.

Without hesitation, Wednesday dove under Xavier's bed just as the bathroom door opened. Xavier stepped out, hair damp and sticking to his neck, a fresh shirt clinging to his frame. He tossed his towel onto the bed and moved to answer the door.

Bianca stood on the other side, smiling faintly.

"You're not supposed to be up here," Xavier said, quickly pulling her inside and closing the door behind them.

"Good to see you too," Bianca replied dryly.

Xavier crossed his arms. "How'd you get past the Housemaster? Use your siren powers?"

She gestured to the gold necklace around her throat. "Not while wearing this."

Xavier sat on the edge of his bed, expression hard. "Would it kill you not to think I'm the villain for once?"

"I'm not the one assuming things," Bianca countered. "Would it kill you to not always assume the worst of me?"

He let out a small huff. "What do you want, Bianca?"

"I wanted to see how you're doing," she said softly. "I'm sorry about Rowan. I know you two were close."

Xavier chuckled without humour. "Since when did you care about Rowan?"

"You were the one afraid he'd do something to Wednesday and Lilith," she said pointedly. "Isn't that why you've been following them around like a puppy? Or is there something more toward Lilith?"

Wednesday, still under the bed, raised a brow at the accusation.

Xavier stood and walked over to his desk, saying nothing.

Bianca didn't stop. "Seriously, what is it with her? You know what people say—what she did to those students in the fire. The three witches who vanished. Her own parents. Who knows what else she's capable of."

He snapped the art book shut. The page had been open to the very portrait of  Lilith.

"And yet," he said finally, "she hasn't tried to manipulate me."

Bianca's tone turned pleading. "I make one mistake, and you can't forgive me. But Lilith? She rejects you, and you're obsessed."

Xavier's jaw clenched. "Why are you so fixated on them?"

"Because Wednesday acts like he's better than everyone, and Lilith walks around like she could burn the world down with a flick of her wrist," she snapped. "I can't wait to crush Ophelia Hall tomorrow and watch that werewolf roommate of theirs crumble. It's going to be a Poe Cup finale to remember."

Xavier rolled his eyes. "I hate to think what you've got planned."

"My game's already in motion," she said smoothly. "I like to win. Is that so wrong?"

He looked at her coldly. "And you wonder why I broke up with you." Bianca stepped closer, her voice softer. "You used to love my killer instinct. We were good together, Xavier." He shook his head. "Were we? Or is that just what you made me believe?"

The confidence in her faded. She looked away for a second, then met his gaze one last time. "Trust me. Lilith Winters is not the girl of your dreams. She's the stuff of your nightmares."

She turned and left.

Silence filled the room.

Thing peeked out from under the bed and signed something.

Wednesday translated with a dry murmur, "She's the girl of your nightmares."

But he didn't say anything more. He just lay there in the dark, thoughts spinning like smoke.

🥀

Enid sat curled on Wednesday's bed, sobbing into a pillow. Lilith stood nearby, gently using her powers to keep drying the damp patch forming beneath Enid's tears. A faint shimmer of energy passed from her hand over the bedsheets, keeping them crisp despite the flood of emotions.

The door creaked open. Wednesday stepped in, eyes immediately narrowing at the sight before him. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get the chance.

"Where have you been?" Enid shot up from the bed, eyes puffy. "I'm literally having a heart attack right now!"

Wednesday blinked, unamused, then looked past her to Lilith, who stood with her usual calm grace. Her black cat rested comfortably in her arms as she approached him.

"Yoko's in the infirmary," Lilith said evenly. "She ate garlic bread at dinner. Had an allergic reaction."

Enid threw her hands in the air. "She's out of the Poe Cup! I don't have a co-pilot!"

She started pacing the room in frantic little circles while Lilith gently stroked the cat's head. Wednesday raised a hand, his voice cutting through the chaos.

"It wasn't an accident," he said flatly. "Bianca's behind it."

Lilith's eyes flicked to his. "How do you know?"

Wednesday met her gaze. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that tomorrow, the three of us are going to take her down."

Enid froze mid-pace. "Wait... you're joining the Black Cats? You'll actually do it?" She took a step closer to him, eyes wide with hope. "For me?"

Wednesday shifted uncomfortably under her stare, then glanced to Lilith. She offered him a small, knowing smile. He returned his gaze to Enid.

"I want to humiliate Bianca so thoroughly," he said coolly, "that the bitter taste of defeat burns in her throat for the rest of the year."

Lilith smirked. "I'd love to witness that."

Enid still looked at him, hopeful. "Yeah, but mostly you're doing it because we're friends, right?"

Wednesday turned his back to her. "Tell me how she keeps winning."

"It's a real brain cramp," Enid replied, folding her arms.

Lilith stepped beside her. "The past two years, no other boat has made it across and back without sinking." Her voice was calm but serious. "In other words, sabotage."

Enid nodded quickly. "There are no rules in the Poe Cup. Except for Lilith. Some people think she might kill them or make them disappear."

Lilith shrugged innocently. "Rumours travel fast."

"And Bianca's a siren," Enid added. "That makes her master of the water."

Wednesday turned to face them both. "Then we beat her at her own game." He looked at Lilith. "That means you'll need to use your powers." Lilith's eyes lit up, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Gladly."

Enid practically bounced out of the room, her spirits restored. "I'm gonna go get everything ready!"

As the door closed behind her, silence settled between Wednesday and Lilith. She turned to him, still smiling softly.

"Goodnight," she said gently.

"Wait," Wednesday called after her.

Lilith stopped, turning back toward him, brow arched. "Yes?"

He hesitated for a moment, voice softer than usual. "Could you still read my readings?" Her expression shifted, curiosity mingled with warmth. She stepped closer.

"Hold on."

Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him. Her touch was surprisingly gentle. The air around them shifted—growing heavy, charged. Her eyes began to mist over, pale silver clouding the irises. Wind rushed into the room, rattling the windows. A deep hum rose in the air.

A storm of crows burst forth, swirling around them in a spiralling vortex, feathers catching the candlelight like obsidian blades. The world around them vanished in the chaos of wind and wings.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

By: SilverMist707

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