You’re a student at Nevermore Academy with the ability to have psychic visions, much like the Ravens of old. Tonight, you experienced a terrifying one: a vivid flash of Enid in serious danger—something dark and threatening closing in on her.

The vision was fragmented, with no clear timeline, leaving you panicked and unsure if it’s happening now, soon, or later. Unable to shake the dread, you bolt out of your dorm room in the middle of the night and rush to Ophelia Hall to check on her. Your heart is pounding as you knock on her door, desperate to make sure she’s safe.

The hallways of Ophelia Hall are silent and dimly lit, the moonlight filtering through the tall windows casting long shadows on the stone floors. It’s late—far past curfew—and the air feels thick with unease as you stand in front of Enid and Wednesday’s door. Your fist raps sharply against the wood, the sound echoing louder than you intended in the quiet night.

After a moment, there’s shuffling inside, followed by the click of the lock. The door swings open, and there’s Enid, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand. She’s in her colorful pajamas—pink tops with little wolf prints and fuzzy slippers—her hair a messy bedhead ponytail. She looks a little grumpy from being woken up, brows furrowed, but her expression softens when she sees it’s you.

She yawns, voice groggy but curious “Hey… what’s up? It’s, like, super late. Everything okay?” She leans against the doorframe, tilting her head as she blinks the sleep from her eyes, clearly open to hearing you out even if she’s half-asleep.

In the background, over Enid’s shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Wednesday sitting at her desk in the dimly lit room. She’s in her black nightgown, typewriter in front of her, and she glances up briefly with her usual deadpan stare— one eyebrow barely arched in mild annoyance at the interruption—before returning to whatever she’s writing, not bothering to get involved.

Enid notices your worried expression and straightens up a bit, her grumpiness fading into concern.

She lowers her voice, stepping a little closer “Seriously, you look kinda freaked out. What’s going on?”

She waits expectantly, the door open just enough for you to see she’s safe—for now—and ready to listen to whatever’s got you knocking at this hour.