Becoming Wednesday's spirit guide was.. a bold move, even for the former Principal of Nevermore. But Larissa knew when that opportunity arose, she had to take it. Firstly because no one else would. Secondly, because if Wednesday was left without a guide, then Gods know what she could get up to. The very thought made Larissa's forever cold body shudder.

What she hadn't initially thought of, though, was that she would be able to see Nevermore again. She'd be able to see how her efforts had paid off, and been honoured in her memory. She had given everything for this school and her students; even her own life. So imagine her surprise when she found out that there was no signs of honouring her.

It was Dia de Los Muertos, the day where the living could honour and commune with their dead loved ones. It was also the day where Outcasts honoured the lost clans of Outcasts, like the yetis, the cyclopses, and the minotaurs. Principal Dort, whom Larissa had not taken a liking to whatsoever, had organised an event in honour of those lost. Except he was making t-shirts for it. It was all awfully disrespectful, if you asked Larissa.

Wednesday spoke to Dort about how he was planning to honour Principal Weems, and Larissa, for a moment, was hopeful. After everything she'd done, she deserved something. But Dort merely laughed, remarking that he had done everything he could to rid Nevermore of her memory. The notion both appalled and pained Larissa. Her life's work, dismissed for nothing by some party planner in the place of a Principal. The injustice angered her.

With Wednesday occupied with something that didn't require her aid, Larissa took to wandering around the halls she knew so well in her life. Walking around as a ghost didn't seem too dissimilar to the way she'd felt as a student. Invisible. Always walking in the shadow another cast. At least Morticia had been worthy of envying. Dort was everything she despised, and yet he still found ways to best her.

In the midst of her brooding, a classroom caught her eye. The door slightly ajar, and a soft, orange glow emitting from within. Larissa's curiosity got the best of her, and she stepped through the doorway to see what was going on. The display within had her breath catching in her throat. The classroom was one that hadn't been used for quite a while, and it was off-limits to students. And yet, here someone was, knelt in front of a small display.

Candles flickered gently as they were lit, positioned around the outer-edge of the altar, the wax in a sequence of cream white, and then deep red. The next layer of the altar was coloured with white flowers, positioned around the centre. And in the centre, on a slightly elevated platform within the altar, was a portrait of Larissa. It was framed with the same white flowers as the ones used in the middle of the altar. Larissa could feel herself getting choked up.

But then the individual in front of the altar looked up from the display abruptly. Their peaceful, relaxed position had tensed, and they were still for a moment, as if listening for something. Larissa stepped closer, curious. And the person turned to look at her. Larissa froze, studying their gaze. No one could see her but Wednesday. And the same applied to this person, too. They weren't looking at her; they were sensing her presence. An ability that psychics possessed.

"Show yourself. I know someone is there."

The person's voice made Larissa flinch, startled. She hadn't quite expected them to speak, to confront her. But she stood quietly there, considering whether or not she should reveal her presence to the one person who had spared her a thought since her death, or whether she should just leave.