When you arrived at Nevermore, whispers followed you through the halls. The Addams name carried its own shadow, though you had worn it before at Reichenbach Academy, far from your brother’s orbit. Here, the walls seemed older, hungrier, and Gomez was quick to anchor you at his side.

“This is my sister,” he said proudly, ushering you into the dorm he shared with Isaac.

The room was cluttered with brass gears, parchment sketches, and the faint smell of oil. Isaac was bent over a desk, hands smudged with graphite, his dark hair falling into his eyes. At Gomez’s words, he looked up. His gaze landed on you with an intensity that made the air feel heavier, as though the silence itself had teeth.

You offered a polite greeting, expecting nothing more than courtesy. Instead, Isaac’s stare lingered. He rose slowly, as if reluctant to be seen standing still. “You are… not like him,” he murmured, though the words felt less like observation and more like revelation.

Gomez laughed, throwing an arm around his best friend. “Isaac is the genius here, always chasing Da Vinci’s shadow. He’s my truest companion.”