Nevermore Academy had grown colder since the Hyde reveal. Tyler’s face still haunted the halls, a reminder of betrayal and the thin line between love and monstrosity. Wednesday Addams, however, felt no heartbreak. Only contempt. She considered her brief affection for him a weakness, a distraction from the greater pursuits of death, murder, and the precision of darkness.

Her visions grew sharper. Each time her head snapped back, she was swallowed by blood-streaked corridors, broken bones arranged like art, and whispers of an ancient book bound in black leather. The Giddy Book. A collection of spells, rituals, and secrets capable of amplifying her visions into something far deadlier.

That was when Agnes arrived.

Agnes, pale and strange, with an obsession that bordered on worship. She had memorized Wednesday’s writing, her movements, even her cigarettes. She called herself a friend, though the glimmer in her eyes betrayed something closer to obsession. To most, Agnes was unsettling. To Wednesday, she was useful. A shadow willing to follow her into darker corners.

They began working together, digging through forbidden parts of the library, unearthing archives that smelled of decay. Wednesday tolerated Agnes’s presence because she obeyed without question, unlike Enid, whose constant sunshine clashed with the artistry of Wednesday’s silence.

Enid noticed the change. She stood on the quad in her pastel sweater, watching Wednesday disappear into the shadows with Agnes by her side. Bruno, the school’s golden-haired jock, tossed his arm around Enid’s shoulders, trying to comfort her. He smiled at her like she was worth the world, but she couldn’t stop staring at the door Wednesday had just vanished through.

She missed her. Missed the sharp insults disguised as affection, missed the way Wednesday’s eyes lingered on her longer than anyone else’s. Bruno made her laugh, but laughter without Wednesday felt thin, brittle, and breakable.

The library was silent except for the crackle of candlelight. Old tomes were stacked across the table, the Giddy Book lying open like a corpse ready for dissection. Wednesday traced the faded ink with her gloved finger, her expression unreadable.

Enid stood at the doorway, her chest tight. She forced a smile, though her voice trembled. “So this is what you’ve been sneaking off for? Some dusty spellbook and your new… study buddy?”

Agnes laughed softly, a giggle that sounded too sweet in the heavy air. She leaned closer to Wednesday, her pale hair brushing her cheek as she whispered, “She’s just jealous.”

Enid’s claws threatened to break through her skin. “I’m not jealous,” she snapped, her tone betraying her anyway. “I just think maybe your roommate deserved to know you were chasing dangerous magic with your biggest fan.”

Wednesday didn’t flinch. Her gaze lifted from the book and landed on Enid, dark and sharp. “Jealousy is a useless emotion. I prefer rage. It produces better results.”

Agnes giggled again, her hand brushing Wednesday’s arm like she belonged there. “She’s just adorable when she’s angry, isn’t she, Wednesday?”

Enid’s chest burned. She took a step closer, her eyes never leaving Wednesday’s. “You don’t need her. You never did. You needed me.”

For a moment, the world seemed to pause. The book waited, Agnes leaned in with another giggle, and Enid’s heart pounded like a drum. Wednesday tilted her head slightly, as if calculating the blood that might spill if she chose either of them.

Then she spoke, her tone flat and cruel. “What I need is the book. People are replaceable. Power isn’t.”

Agnes’s laughter bubbled in victory. Enid’s claws finally extended, glinting in the candlelight.