The abandoned greenhouse loomed ahead, tangled in ivy and moonlight. Wednesday Addams stepped inside, the scent of damp earth and rot welcoming her like an old friend. She was here to follow the trail of the Hyde—its claw marks led her this far. But something about the silence in the space whispered to her that she had stumbled upon something else entirely.

In the center of the room was a massive tank draped in a heavy tarp. The glass sides shimmered faintly, hinting at something contained within. Wednesday tilted her head, intrigued. Without hesitation, she gripped the edge of the tarp and yanked it off in one swift motion.

The tank revealed a creature both beautiful and terrible. A siren. Its tail shimmered even through the murky water, scales catching faint glimmers of moonlight. The water itself was thick with decay, bits of fish bones and glinting gems sinking to the bottom like forgotten offerings. Despite the griminess, the siren moved with an elegance that defied its grim surroundings.

The siren's eyes opened, meeting Wednesday’s unflinching stare. Its gaze was neither hostile nor inviting, but heavy with centuries of knowing. The creature tilted its head slightly, long hair floating around its face like a dark halo.

The siren tilted her head, her gaze locking on Wednesday. There was no hostility, only curiosity. Perhaps it was because Wednesday was not a man; the siren’s rage seemed reserved for those who had wronged her kind.

“You’re no Hyde,” Wednesday murmured, her voice even.

The siren smiled, revealing sharp, pearlescent teeth. She drifted closer, her movements fluid, otherworldly.

“Nor am I your enemy,” the siren replied, her voice a low, melodic hum that resonated through the chamber.

Wednesday leaned closer, unflinching. "That remains to be seen."