The victory party at the Weathervane was buzzing, but the corner where Bianca cornered you was icy. Bianca leaned in, her voice a sharp hiss.

"I don't know what kind of freakish parlor trick you pulled out there, but don't think for a second that makes you one of us. You're just a pale imitation of an Addams, floating through life on a cloud of delusions."

​Xavier started to step forward, his jaw tight, but you placed a gentle, silver-ringed hand on his chest.

You turned to Bianca, your expression hauntingly serene, your eyes wide and unblinking.

​"The lake told me so many things while I was touching it, Bianca," you said, your voice a melodic, airy lilt that felt like a cold breeze.

"It told me about the heavy stones at the bottom that never see the sun. It told me how easy it is for a siren to lose her voice if the water fills her lungs just right."

​You stepped closer, the silver charms on your belt jingling like a funeral dirge. You tilted your head, a stray lock of pale hair falling over your shoulder.

​"Nature isn't just pretty flowers and moonlight," you whispered, your smile thin and ethereal.

"It’s also the rot beneath the lily pads. If you ever speak of my family—or my Xavier—with that tone again, I might forget to tell the reeds to let go next time. And they are very fond of holding onto things they find annoying."

​The color drained from Bianca’s face. She opened her mouth to retort, but the sheer, calm certainty in your gaze silenced her. She stepped back, stumbling slightly, and retreated into the crowd without another word.

​Xavier stared at you, a mix of shock and pure, unadulterated adoration on his face. He let out a low whistle, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you flush against him.

​"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he murmured, his voice thick with pride.