I hear it in my head, but it's just, "Blah, blah, blah"

 ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

𝔸𝕊 the last crow vanished into the wind, the woods fell silent.

The world exhaled.

Lilith let go of him instantly.

She always did—ever since she learned that physical contact was something Wednesday tolerated, not embraced. Her touch was never possessive, never clinging. She knew when to let go.

Wednesday steadied himself as the haze of the ritual faded, realizing they were no longer in the shadowed halls of Nevermore. Somehow, in the eye of that strange vortex, they had been transported. The shift was subtle, like stepping through a veil.

He stood now inside a place he had only heard whispers about.

Lilith's cabin.

Her sanctuary.

Wooden beams arched overhead like the ribs of an ancient beast. Bundles of dried herbs hung from them—lavender, sage, yarrow—casting soft, earthy scents into the air. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with vials, crystals, and aged tomes bound in worn leather. A fire crackled faintly in the hearth, casting flickering light across the floorboards. The air was dense with quiet magic—alive, but not loud.

Before Wednesday could take another step, Lilith snapped her fingers.

Furniture shimmered and vanished. The chair by the fire, the small couch, the books on the table—all dissolved into glowing dust that evaporated before it hit the ground. In their place, a dark velvet mat stretched across the wooden floor. Candles sparked to life in a perfect ring around it, their flames an unnatural blue. A deck of cards appeared in her hand—sleek, matte, and black. The backs were engraved with silver patterns that never settled on one shape, as if the cards breathed with every second.

Lilith lowered herself to the mat, her movements fluid and precise.

Wednesday followed, sitting across from her with a flicker of interest in his dark eyes. The air shifted. It felt thicker, like the pause between thunder and lightning.

"The cards will reveal their secrets when it's time," she said softly, her voice echoing with a trace of something ancient. "Not before."

She laid the cards out—twelve in a perfect circle, like the hours of a clock. One final card, the thirteenth, she placed in the centre. Her fingers lingered there a moment.

Then she reached out her hands to him.

Wednesday stared at them. Pale. Steady. Open.

Lilith didn't rush him. Instead, she smiled faintly and made a small beckoning motion with her fingers.

He hesitated—always cautious—but eventually lifted his hands and placed them in hers.

They were warm.

But they grounded him.

Her expression changed as she held them. Her smile faded into something serious, focused. Her gaze met his, unwavering.

"Whatever you do," she said gently but firmly, "do not let go of my hands. No matter what happens."

Wednesday's brow twitched, but he gave a small nod.

Lilith inhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around his just slightly. Then she closed her eyes. The wind stirred. Candle flames danced. When her eyes opened again, they were no longer her own.

Pale white mist swirled inside them like storm clouds. Thin black veins crept beneath her skin, pulsing along her cheekbones and down her throat, as though something dark were waking within her.

The wind rose to a whispering moan.

The candles flickered. Then twisted.

Their flames lifted off their wicks and began to spin—spiralling around the two of them like a halo of blue fire. The cards rose into the air, lifted by invisible strings, slowly rotating above the mat. Each card pulsed, waiting. Wednesday glanced around, captivated—but then his focus narrowed.

Something shifted.

The air turned cold. Sharp.

The shadows in the room grew longer, deeper, stretching toward him in unnatural ways. They weren't cast by the firelight. They moved of their own will. A sickly grey mist began to pool at the edges of the cabin, curling around his boots.

Then he saw them.

Figures.

Lurking just beyond the firelight.

They didn't walk—they slithered.

Shapes too long, too thin. Arms where there shouldn't be arms. Eyes glinting like oil in the dark. Their fingers—if that's what they were—dragged across the floor as they reached toward him.

Wednesday's breath caught. The creatures were silent but watching him.

They wanted him.

Instinct told him to break away. To move. To pull free.

But Lilith's grip tightened.

One of the creatures lunged.

A shriek pierced the silence—not from Wednesday, but from the shadow itself, as a column of fire shot upward, encasing him and Lilith in a perfect circle. The creature recoiled, shrieking again as the flames licked toward it.

The fire held. The shadows couldn't breach it.

Wednesday turned sharply to Lilith.

Her body was rigid. Her back arched slightly as though something ancient was moving through her. The fire glowed brighter at their joined hands—flames blooming from her palms, coiling outward like serpents.

She was holding the darkness at bay.

Protecting him.

The pressure grew. The flames roared. The cards above them spun faster. Wednesday could feel the magic building, like a dam ready to break.

The creatures hissed and clawed, just beyond the barrier. But they couldn't touch him.

Because of her.

And still—Lilith held on.

As the fire circled them one final time, the flames began to die down—slowly, gently—like a storm taking its last breath.

The shadows recoiled and vanished into the crevices of the cabin. The wind calmed. The unnatural pressure in the air dissolved, replaced by the soft, steady crackling of the hearth.

The cards stopped spinning and began to descend, each one floating like a feather until it rested perfectly on the mat. The final flicker of candlelight danced on the silver-backed cards as they settled into place.

Lilith blinked.

Her eyes cleared—the mist retreating like morning fog. The black veins faded from beneath her skin, and with an unspoken breath, the room was whole again. Still. Safe.

She slowly let go of his hands.

"It's done," she said softly, voice a little hoarse from the strain.

Wednesday didn't speak, his gaze still locked on her. Not in suspicion, but with the sharp, calculating curiosity he reserved for things he couldn't explain. Things that intrigued him.

Lilith turned the first card.

The Tower.

A dark spire struck by lightning, flames pouring from its windows as bodies fell from its heights.

"A great upheaval," Lilith said, her voice steady. "Destruction. Chaos. Something at Nevermore will fall. Something sacred... broken." She looked at him meaningfully. "You will be in the center of it, whether you choose to or not. The fire will burn."

Wednesday's lips parted slightly. Not fear. Not surprise. Just readiness. Acceptance of fate like a soldier hearing the call to arms.

She turned the next card.

The Five of Cups.

A cloaked figure stood before three spilled chalices, unaware of the two still standing behind him.

"You will face loss," Lilith continued, "and focus on it too long. You may not see the people who remain... who still stand behind you."

He watched her. Listened.

The Strength card. A woman taming a lion, not with force, but grace.

"This isn't about power," she explained. "It's about restraint. You'll need to control your anger. Your fear. Your grief. Otherwise..." Her voice trailed off.

The Moon. A pathway lit by pale light, flanked by a dog and a wolf.

"Deception. Secrets. The truth hidden beneath illusion." Lilith's eyes flicked up to him. "Trust no one. Not fully."

Card after card unfolded.

Three of Swords. Heartbreak. Pain. A sacrifice.

Two of Pentacles. A choice. A balancing act—one that could collapse at any moment.

The Emperor. Control. Leadership. The weight of decisions on young shoulders.

"You are being shaped into something, Wednesday. Forged by fire and fracture."

She hesitated only briefly, then turned the next card.

The Star.

A woman pouring water into the earth and sky. Hope. Healing. Renewal.

Lilith's voice softened. "Even through destruction, someone will be in your corner. One person... will not abandon you." Wednesday raised an eyebrow slightly, scepticism veiled behind his cool stare. "Who?" Lilith hesitated—too long. His eyes narrowed.

"Who," he repeated.

"I don't know," she lied smoothly, flipping the next card with a quick motion. "That's not what this card reveals." The deck was nearly empty now. Twelve cards revealed, their meanings sewn into the air like threads in a tapestry. Still, one card remained facedown untouched at the centre.

The thirteenth.

Wednesday's gaze dropped to it. "You haven't shown me the last."

Lilith's lips pressed together in a faint smile. "Some paths... aren't meant to be walked with a map."

He studied her face, not just the words, but the edges between them. Her calm demeanour was flawless, yet... something flickered in her eyes. Something withheld.

His jaw tightened, but he didn't press further.

Instead, he stood.

"Thank you," he said, voice low but genuine.

Lilith looked up at him, slightly surprised.

Then—without sarcasm, without bravado—Wednesday offered his hand.

She accepted it.

For a moment, they were close. Her fingertips curled around his, his palm warm and steady as he helped her to her feet like a gentleman born of another century. She tucked a loose strand of raven hair behind her ear and spoke gently. "Follow the birds. They'll take you back to Nevermore." Wednesday gave her a final nod and turned toward the door.

He paused only once, casting a last glance over his shoulder.

She met his gaze with quiet steel, the candlelight softening the hard edges of her silhouette.

"Goodnight, Lilith."

"Goodnight, Wednesday," she replied, her voice a little quieter than before.

When the door closed behind him, and the wind slipped in to kiss the flame once more, Lilith turned slowly back to the mat.

She knelt.

Her hands hovered over the last card.

The thirteenth.

She hesitated.

Then flipped it over.

The Lovers.

Two skeletons, entwined in an eternal embrace, their fingers tangled together as if in defiance of death. A blood-red thread ran between their hearts. Lilith's breath hitched. Warmth bloomed across her cheeks as her lips lifted in something small. Something secret. But then—her smile faded. With a long sigh, she brought the card to her lips. She blew softly. Ash scattered into the air. The card dissolved, and the deck turned blank—just like before.

Just as it was meant to be.

And the cabin fell into silence.

Only the fire remained.

Wednesday leaned back in his chair, his fingers twitching against the wooden armrests as a storm of frustration brewed beneath his usually unreadable exterior. The flicker of candlelight from his desk cast long shadows across the floor of his dorm room, dancing in time with the thoughts he couldn't seem to extinguish.

Lilith.

The name itself left a strange warmth in his chest—unfamiliar, unwelcome, and yet, unshakable. He clenched his jaw and tried to focus on the Poe Cup strategy pinned across his wall, maps and diagrams littered with notes in his sharp, precise handwriting. But no matter how many times he studied them, her face kept slipping through the cracks in his mind. The way she looked under candlelight. The way her voice curled around secrets. The way her fingers had felt wrapped in his.

He couldn't afford distractions.

Not now.

And yet...

Miles away, in the solitude of her dorm, Lilith sat on her bed with her knees pulled to her chest, a book open in her lap but completely forgotten. Her gaze was distant, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite the confusion curling in her gut.

Wednesday Addams was supposed to be cold. Distant. Untouchable. But something about him—something subtle—kept pulling her closer like the tide to the moon. She didn't understand it, but she didn't want to fight it either.

As the night wore on, they were both lost in thoughts of each other, a delicate, invisible thread weaving quietly between them—binding their paths with every passing heartbeat.

🥀

Morning came with golden rays piercing through the mist surrounding Nevermore Academy. The crisp air carried the distant sound of laughter and the bustling energy of Poe Cup preparations.

Wednesday moved with purpose through the courtyard, his steps steady, his expression unreadable as ever. He passed Bianca, who gave him a smug, knowing smirk, clearly amused by what she believed to be her imminent victory.

But she didn't know the truth.

She didn't know what he and Thing had been constructing for days in secret. She didn't know she'd already lost.

Wednesday's eyes scanned ahead, catching sight of Enid and Lilith standing in front of the school steps, the two of them chatting excitedly. Enid waved him over with an eager grin.

"We're all set!" she said brightly, practically bouncing.

"Good," Wednesday replied coolly, "Thing's in position."

Lilith turned toward him, her arms crossed and a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Can't you tell us what you two were up to?" she asked, head tilting slightly in curiosity.

He gave her a rare smirk. "And spoil the surprise? Where's the fun in that?"

Enid clapped her hands between them, breaking the tension. "Speaking of surprises—your costume's in the tent!"

Wednesday blinked. "Costume?"

Moments later, he emerged from the tent dressed in a sleek, black leather outfit... with cat ears perched unceremoniously on his head. His expression was thunderous.

Enid gasped in glee. "OMG, you look purr-fect! Only thing, where are your whiskers?"

Wednesday shot her a look that could curdle blood. "Ask again, and you'll be down to eight lives." Enid giggled nervously and scurried away toward the canoe, leaving him to simmer in brooding silence. Then came a voice behind him—silken, amused, and sharp enough to slice through steel.

"Meow."

He turned, and his breath caught in his throat.

Lilith had stepped out in her costume: dark, elegant, and laced with just enough rebellion to match her spirit. It hugged her figure with effortless confidence, and Wednesday, usually immune to such things, found himself frozen.

She stepped closer, her smirk curling like smoke.

"What's the matter, Wednesday? Cat got your tongue?"

For once, his icy demeanour cracked. A faint blush crept up the back of his neck. He hated how quickly she could disarm him.

And yet...

Without warning, he stepped forward, closing the distance in a single stride. His hands slid to her waist, gripping gently but firmly, pulling her against him. Lilith's teasing smile faltered, her breath hitching as she found herself inches from him. The air between them pulsed with electricity.

He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Careful, Lilith. You might end up purring if you keep teasing me."

The heat of his breath sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt her pulse spike, her cheeks flushed in a way she hadn't anticipated. Before she could respond—before she could catch her balance—he released her and walked off without a word.

She stood there, utterly speechless.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she muttered to herself, "What just happened?"

For once, the witch was the one under a spell.

 ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

By: SilverMist707

Hope you enjoyed. <3