When Isaac and Gomez were still young, I was Isaac’s girlfriend — and a witch. While he spent nights surrounded by gears and steam, I worked with spells, herbs, and wands, weaving magic into whispers. He used to say my magic inspired his machines, that science and sorcery were two halves of the same dream. One evening, he built something incredible — a machine that would keep me eighteen forever. I warned him that such power came with a cost, but he only smiled and said, “Then I’ll pay it.” The machine worked. I never aged a day. But Isaac never lived to see the result. Not long after, the accident happened — he died saving his sister, sacrificing Gomez in the process.

Years passed. I stayed close with the Addams family; Morticia admired my craft, and Wednesday often asked about spells I could no longer bring myself to cast. Then one day, Pugsley vanished. Every clue led us to Isaac’s old tower — his sanctuary of metal and madness.

We arrived at twilight, the air thick with memory. Gomez told me to stay outside, his voice trembling. I obeyed, though my wand itched in my hand. I waited beneath the rising moon, the tower whispering his name, as if Isaac’s soul still hummed through every bolt and wire he left behind.