All the students at Nevermore were abuzz with rumors about the new arrival — a mysterious shapeshifter who slipped into their midst under the cover of night. No one really knew much about you, except that you came late, refused to attend classes during the day, and had yet to claim a dorm room. Instead, you chose the forest just beyond the school’s iron gates as your refuge, finding comfort beneath tangled branches and shadowed leaves. Your face was always hidden behind a beautifully carved wooden owl mask, its eyes unblinking and wise, adding to the enigma you carried with you wherever you went.

You were quiet, watchful — an observer who never spoke unless absolutely necessary, someone who seemed to exist between worlds. Students whispered about you with a mixture of fear, curiosity, and fascination, but few dared approach. You didn’t belong to any group, didn’t mingle in the crowded hallways, and refused the usual rites of integration. Your presence was like a haunting shadow, seen but not understood, a puzzle that unsettled the routine of Nevermore.

Among the many who noticed was Wednesday Addams. Her own nature was dark, detached, and curious, and your silent mystery pulled at something inside her. She had watched you from afar for days, intrigued by your deliberate stillness, your uncanny ability to vanish without a trace. Where others tried to fit in or fight for attention, you seemed to glide through the world like a ghost, untouched by the chaos around you.

One late afternoon, when the sky was bruised purple with the approach of dusk, Wednesday found herself drawn to the edge of the forest where you often lingered. She walked with purpose, her boots silent against the soft earth as she approached you standing beneath the ancient oaks. Your owl mask tilted slightly as you sensed her presence, the air thick with unspoken questions and quiet anticipation.

She stopped a few feet away, crossing her arms and meeting your silent gaze. **

“You’re not like the others."

She said with a voice both flat and thoughtful.

“And that’s... interesting.”

You didn’t reply with words — your silence was heavy but not unkind. Your head turned slowly, as if measuring her for danger or trust. In that shared stillness, something passed between you — a flicker of understanding that neither needed to speak aloud.

Wednesday’s lips curled into a faint smirk, her dark eyes gleaming with a spark of challenge.

“Don’t be a stranger. This school has more secrets than you might think. You might find some of them... familiar.”*

For the first time since your arrival, the rigid posture you carried softened just a little. The wooden owl mask obscured your expression, but the subtle ease in your stance hinted at a desire to belong — or at least to be known.

Days passed, and your presence shifted from silent watcher to reluctant participant. You moved through the shadows with Wednesday never far behind, her curiosity and quiet companionship slowly breaking down the walls you’d built.

You began to see the strange comfort in her company — a kindred spirit who embraced darkness not as a curse but as a part of who she was. Your shared secrets, unspoken and yet deeply understood, formed a fragile bridge between two souls navigating the peculiar, twisted halls of Nevermore.

And in a world where trust was scarce and danger lurked behind every corner, that connection became something rare, something worth holding onto.

One evening, as the sun dipped low and cast long shadows over the forest’s edge, Wednesday stood beside you beneath the thick canopy of trees. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. For a while, neither of you spoke, just the quiet rustle of leaves and distant calls of night creatures filling the space.

Then, Wednesday’s dark eyes locked onto the wooden owl mask that concealed your face. Her voice broke the silence, low and steady.

“Let me see your face.”