Aleksander found Rowan's mental stability weak, his breathing was uneven, eyes darting toward the floor.
"You look off," Aleksander said quietly, approaching him. "Your mind feels... unstable. I can help with that."
Rowan blinked in disbelief. "You can tell?"
Aleksander nodded. "Let's just say, I have multiple gifts."
For a moment, Rowan hesitated. Then he nodded, almost relieved. Someone finally seemed to care.
Later that night, Aleksander was playing games with Xavier when Rowan rushed in, eyes wide and wild."Aleksander—I need help. My head… it's going crazy."
Aleksander's worry kicked in instantly. He placed his palm on Rowan's forehead; it glowed faintly gold. Rowan's shaking eased, his breathing steadied.But Aleksander could sense something darker beneath the surface, something external.
"Rowan," he asked carefully, "what happened?"
Rowan, now calmer, reached inside his bag and carefully unfolded a worn drawing. He handed it to Aleksander with shaking hands.
Aleksander studied the picture: Wednesday sketched in stark lines, standing before a blazing Nevermore. Behind her was a shadowy figure—stern-faced, dressed in old-fashioned pilgrim clothes unmistakably like Joseph Crackstone.
Rowan's voice was quiet but tinged with fear. "My mother was a seer. She drew this when she was at Nevermore. Before she died, she told me to stop this girl—if she ever came here. She said… she would destroy the school, and everyone in it."
He looked nervously at Aleksander. "I think it's Wednesday."
Aleksander frowned, emotions playing quietly on his face. "Honestly, the chance Wednesday would burn down a school is pretty low. But with prophetic visions… the trigger usually isn't the person in the vision—it's someone trying to stop them that sets everything in motion."
Xavier, uneasy, leaned forward to look at the drawing. "So she's not some psycho who's going to torch Nevermore?"
Aleksander pointed at the figure behind Wednesday. "Look at this guy. He's dressed like a pilgrim—just like Crackstone. I saw drawings of him at City Hall. He's always been connected to the town. So maybe it's not Wednesday, but someone obsessed with Crackstone's ideals, someone who wants revenge on the school."
Rowan and Xavier exchanged looks, the pieces falling into place. The story felt bigger, more complicated than their worst fears.
For Rowan, relief and gratitude washed over him. He'd spent days tortured by voices telling him this was his destiny, his duty to stop Wednesday. Aleksander's reasoning gave him space to breathe, clarity for the first time.
Back in Ophelia dorm, in her dimly lit dorm room, Wednesday sat at an old typewriter, her fingers methodically tapping out the dark prose of her latest novel. The rhythmic clack filled the quiet space.
The quiet was interrupted by the faint rustling of fabric beneath her covers. Her eyes narrowed.Without hesitation, she pulled back the blanket to reveal Thing, trying to slip away with one clawed hand. A faint scent of his hand lotion hung in the air—enough for Wednesday to know he'd been following her.Without missing a beat, she snatched him decisively. "I knew you were trailing me," she said flatly, holding him firm in her grasp.Thing struggled briefly but stopped when she gave him the choice: surrender now and pledge loyalty, or be locked in a drawer for the entire semester.Thing hesitated, then gave a resigned nod. Loyalty it was.Before Wednesday could say more, a sudden shimmer filled the room and Aleksander appeared—teleportation style.Wednesday's lips twitched in annoyance, but she let it slide.
Aleksander's eyes immediately caught Thing, and he offered a light smile. "Oh, hi Thing."
Wednesday fixed Aleksander with her usual deadpan stare but said nothing, knowing better than to waste energy on his dramatic entrances.
Aleksander stepped closer, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Seems your mother did leave someone to keep an eye on you," Aleksander said softly, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of insight.
Wednesday's brow furrowed. She shrugged, her tone coolly dismissive. "Yes, but that is now taken care of," she replied, voice steady. "Thing has bowed and claimed loyalty to me."
Aleksander nodded knowingly, a shadow of confirmation in his eyes. He reached into his bag and pulled out the drawing Rowan had given him earlier. "I found something interesting," he said, holding it out. "This was given to me by Rowan today."
Wednesday took the drawing, her eyes narrowing as she studied the stark lines. Without looking up, she muttered, "That's me. Looks like I have a stalker. And apparently, I have to burn down the school to escape."
Aleksander raised an eyebrow. "Actually, this was drawn by Rowan's mother when she was at Nevermore. She was a seer."
Wednesday's curiosity flickered as Aleksander pointed to the shadowy figure behind her in the drawing. "Notice any similarities?" he asked. "That figure resembles Joseph Crackstone. It seems someone wearing his costume and carrying his ideals is targeting you. Looks like a fight is brewing."
She tilted her head thoughtfully. "So someone inspired by Crackstone is planning to burn the school down."
Aleksander's gaze hardened slightly. "And you're deeply involved. Especially given the history—Crackstone and the Addams family were enemies. That makes whoever's behind this extremely dangerous."
Wednesday nodded in agreement.
Aleksander lowered his voice. "This is just a theory, but the murders—the organs removed, the ritualistic nature—it all points to someone preparing for a dark ritual."
Wednesday's eyes sharpened, catching Aleksander's meaning instantly. "You think they're trying to raise the real Joseph Crackstone."
Aleksander shrugged. "It's a possibility."
Aleksander felt the subtle shift in the air and glanced toward the door. A faint wave of goodbye floated into the room—and suddenly, the figure disappeared.
When Aleksander returned, he found Rowan dozing in a bean bag, his face relaxed for the first time in days.
Xavier was sketching quietly nearby."He was tired," Xavier remarked without looking up.
Aleksander nodded knowingly. "I would be too. His telekinesis was overworking his mind—pushing him to the edge."
Xavier glanced up, curiosity catching his eyes. "So you really think the person dressed like Crackstone is behind the killings?"
Aleksander looked at Xavier, a spark of approval evident."It's a good theory,"
Xavier shrugged and continued. "The coincidences… too much to ignore."
They exchanged a few words about the latest deaths, the silence thick with unspoken concern.
Aleksander then moved to his worktable, focus sharpening as he pulled out materials for his newest project—the Ten Rings.Inspired by the legendary weapon from the Shang Chi movie, the rings were formidable iron bands meant to encircle his forearms. Each ring was thick, heavy, and engraved with intricate runes and symbols.
The metal had a dark, dense quality, its slightly rough and worn texture catching the light with a subtle sheen. The detailed carvings glowed faintly as Aleksander traced them with his fingers.