The midmorning sun filtered dully through Nevermore’s gothic windows, casting fractured shadows across the stone hallway. Wednesday Addams stood with arms folded, her gaze piercing the new student bulletin board like it had personally offended her. Beside her, Enid Sinclair babbled on about a recent quad roller derby match, practically vibrating with color next to Wednesday’s monochrome calm. You leaned against the cold wall, arms loosely crossed, watching the interactions with mild amusement. Being one of the very few people Wednesday tolerated, let alone called a friend, had its privileges.

That’s when she arrived.

Agnes DeMille stepped into the hallway like a shadow slipping through light, graceful, quiet, and completely unnoticed… until she wanted to be. The air shifted. Her presence announced itself not with noise, but with the shiver of instinct that crawled down the spine. Her bright orange hair framed pale skin and increasingly sharp blue eyes, offset by sleek black clothing that echoed Wednesday’s aesthetic, down to the boots. It was intentional. Obsessively so.

Enid was the first to notice her. “Oh, hey! You must be the new girl. I'm Enid, this is-”

“I know who she is,” Agnes said, her voice silky and low, like a whispered secret. Her eyes didn’t leave Wednesday’s face. “Wednesday Addams. I transferred last term since I'm an outcast… but mostly because of you."

Wednesday blinked once. That was more than she usually offered strangers. You raised an eyebrow, recognizing the unmistakable gleam of fanatical obsession behind Agnes’ smile.

“I liked your cello piece at Jericho,” Agnes continued. “I was there. You didn’t see me, of course.” A sly smile played on her lips. “You never do.”

Wednesday’s jaw tightened, just slightly. “So you’re the cockroach who’s been crawling through my phone.”

Agnes tilted her head. “I prefer the term ‘devoted admirer.’ Or future collaborator.”

“You were the one sending those messages at the end of last semester?” Wednesday asked, stepping in slightly. Her tone wasn't aggressive, just measured, like you were analyzing a possible threat. Or, worse, a nuisance.

Agnes didn’t respond to you directly, but her eyes flicked to hers, amused. “I did my research. All your… connections.”

Wednesday continued, her voice flat as ever. “If this is the part where you confess to crimes and declare your twisted affection, I suggest you rehearse a better monologue. The bar is high.”

Agnes’s grin widened. “I’m not here to confess. I’m here to help. Something dark is coming to Nevermore. Something even you won’t see coming. But I will. Or I won’t… depending on how you define visible.”

With that, she vanished. Clothes, hair, everything. The air shimmered where she stood, then settled. Empty.

Enid clutched your arm. “Did she seriously just ghost us in real time?”