Chapter 9: The Social Battlefield
The Nevermore gym was a kaleidoscope of chaos, transformed into a vibrant dance floor for the Rave'N. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting a warm glow across the sea of students, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the gothic arches lurking in the shadows.
Oliver Smoak stood awkwardly in a borrowed suit, the too-tight collar chafing his neck, hazel eyes scanning the crowd. I'm an imposter. They're vampires, werewolves, sirens—I'm just a guy with a magic app. His fingers tugged at his tie, a nervous tic, the compass in his pocket humming faintly, tying to Glint's gift, Morticia's training, and the gem's pulse.
Enid Sinclair glowed across the room, radiant in a flowing pastel dress, pink-streaked hair bouncing as she laughed with friends. A pang of guilt twisted Oliver's chest—she deserved a carefree night, not his distracted focus.
She's the only real thing here. The compass's hum drowned out the music, a reminder of their mission to find Eldric's cursed artifacts, linking to the library's glitter, the catacombs' residue, and the Serpent's mystery.
The air was thick with sweat and perfume, a cloying mix that clashed with the metallic tang lingering in Oliver's senses. His boots scuffed the polished floor, each step heavy with the weight of his secrets. I'm here to hunt artifacts, not dance. But Enid's smile makes me want to try.
Bianca Barclay emerged from the crowd, her dark red dress shimmering like liquid fire, green eyes locking onto Oliver with predatory intensity. Her presence was a cold wave, thinning the air, her silver hair catching the light as she leaned closer.
"Heard you're a new kind of magician, Smoak," she purred, voice smooth but edged with menace. "Nevermore's my territory. Watch where you step."
Her words were a velvet-gloved threat, Oliver's pulse spiking, fingers twitching at his tie. A siren. Great. Not monsters, but pop divas. He forced a grin, voice strained. "Just here to dance badly and leave early."
His sarcasm was a shield, but Bianca's lips curled, amusement and suspicion mixing. "Your dancing's a magical threat, I've heard."
She's not buying it. She thinks I'm a joke. The perfume scent sharpened, tying to Enid's lavender but more dangerous, a reminder of the stakes.
[SYSTEM: Social Threat Detected. Deflect with Charm. Maintain Cover.]
The prompt was a cold jab, Oliver's mind racing for a retort, his humor faltering under her scrutiny. I'm a terrible liar, and she knows it.
Wednesday materialized at his side, black dress stark against the vibrant crowd, deadpan expression a mask of calculated indifference. "The lighting is inadequate," she said, voice flat, braid motionless as she scanned the room. "Perfect for chaos."
She flicked her wrist, an Obscuro spell sending the fairy lights into a flickering frenzy, the music glitching into a distorted wail. The crowd gasped, heads turning, and Oliver seized the moment, muttering a Revelio spell under his breath.
The air hummed, a metallic scent rising, linking to the library's glitter and the catacombs' residue. The System blared:
[SYSTEM: Warning—Multiple Cursed Artifacts Detected. Source: Eldric's Minions. Location: Vendor's Booths.]
Wednesday's eyes met his, a silent nod, her fingers twitching as if itching for her knife. She's a master, manipulating the battlefield. Oliver moved toward the booths, boots scuffing, the gym's chaos alive around him.
The vendor booths, draped in gaudy fabrics, were a disappointment—the artifacts were gone, replaced by cheap trinkets. Oliver's heart sank, fingers brushing a crumpled parchment, its serpent symbol pulsing faintly, tying to the compass, gem, and Glint's chaos.
He touched it, and a vision flashed: a young Bianca, wide-eyed, surrounded by cloaked figures in a candlelit ritual, their chants heavy with power. The image faded, Oliver's breath catching as he glanced at Bianca, her gaze sharp with anger across the dance floor.
She saw me see it. She yanked him aside, grip bruising, voice a low hiss. "That symbol," she said, green eyes blazing, silver hair falling across her face. "It's the witch covens. They're not your enemy. The Scalper is."
The revelation hit like a punch, the gym's noise fading to a dull roar, the air thick with conspiracy. The compass hummed, the serpent symbol burning in Oliver's mind, the Rave'N's lights steadying, but the game had shifted.
Bianca's anger softened, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I've seen what he does," she said, eyes distant, fingers trembling slightly. "He hunts power, not people. Stay out of his way, Smoak."
Oliver nodded, throat tight, the parchment's weight heavy in his hand. She's not just a rival; she's a survivor. Wednesday stood nearby, her gaze flicking between them, her silence louder than words. She's calculating, but she's with me—for now.
The music swelled, students returning to the dance, but the metallic tang lingered, tying to the library, the catacombs, and the Serpent's mystery. Enid's laugh echoed from across the room, a fleeting anchor, but Oliver's focus was on the parchment, the covens, and Eldric's shadow.
The System was silent, but the compass's hum was a call to action. The artifacts are gone, but this symbol's a clue. The Scalper's closer than we thought.
"Bianca's not just a threat; she's a key. The covens, the Scalper—it's bigger than Eldric. The compass, the gem, the parchment—they're pieces of the Serpent, and I'm running out of time. Wednesday's chaos gave us a chance, but we missed the artifacts. Enid's shining, but I can't tell her about this. The System's my secret, pushing me, but I'm pushing back. Nevermore's a battlefield, and I'm not failing."
"Oliver's drowning, isn't he? He's trying to be funny, but his eyes are scared. Bianca's dangerous, but she's right about the Scalper. I want to help him, but I'm just Enid, the girl who can't transform. My family's watching, judging, but Oliver doesn't judge. He's my friend, and I'll keep him steady, even if I'm shaking. I'll smile, fight, for him. For us."
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