Chapter 10: Eldric's First Move
The Nevermore gym pulsed with the Rave'N's chaotic energy, fairy lights casting a warm glow over students swaying to a pulsing beat, their laughter mingling with the cloying scent of sweat and perfume. Oliver Smoak stood awkwardly in a borrowed suit, its too-tight collar chafing his neck, the compass in his pocket humming faintly, a tether to Glint's gift and the gem's pulse. The air held a faint metallic tang, a lingering echo of the library's glitter and the catacombs' residue, tying to the Serpent's mystery. His hazel eyes scanned the crowd, catching Enid Sinclair's radiant figure in a pastel dress, her pink-streaked hair bouncing as she laughed with friends. A pang of guilt twisted his chest—she deserved a carefree night, not his distracted focus on Eldric's artifacts.
"She's the only real thing here, and I'm stuck chasing shadows." His fingers tugged at his tie, a nervous tic, the compass's hum a constant reminder of their mission. The music swelled, but a low rumble shattered the moment, vibrating through the polished floor, shaking the lights. Screams erupted as the air turned sharp with ozone and petrified stone, the warmth replaced by a cold dread that pricked Oliver's skin.
[SYSTEM: Warning—Warlock Attack Imminent. Instinctual Casting Unlocked.]
The prompt was a release, not a command, sparking terror and resolve. "No time to think. Just feel." His pulse raced, the compass's hum syncing with his heartbeat, urging him to act. "Eldric's here. The Scalper's making his move." The gym's chaos escalated as students scattered, their shouts echoing off the gothic arches, the metallic tang sharpening, a thread linking to the Rave'N's parchment and the gem's pulse.
Wednesday Addams materialized beside him, her black dress a stark silhouette against the flickering lights, her knife gleaming as she scanned the chaos with forensic precision. "Stay sharp, Smoak," she said, voice a low growl, braid swinging with purpose. "This is the kind of party I prefer."
Her dry humor cut through the panic, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, her eyes narrowing with focus. Bianca Barclay joined them, her red dress shimmering like liquid fire, green eyes flashing as she readied a sonic scream, silver hair wild in the dim light. "This is your mess, magician," she snapped, voice sharp but steady, fingers flexing with power. "Don't screw it up."
"The queen of sirens and the master of macabre. What a team." Oliver's chest tightened, fear mixing with resolve, his mind flashing to Enid, safe inside but counting on him. "I'm not just a Host. I'm their shield." He raised his hands, the air crackling with raw magic, a heat building in his chest. "No System. Just me."
The ground shook again as gargoyles from the roofline stirred, their violet eyes glowing with sinister intent, stone wings scraping as they descended. A gargoyle lunged, claws slashing, its roar grating like stone on stone, sending students screaming toward the exits. Wednesday dodged, her movements fluid, knife flashing uselessly against rock, her braid whipping as she rolled aside. Bianca's scream erupted, a high-pitched wave that cracked the gargoyle's wing, sending shards flying, but the creature pressed forward, relentless.
Oliver's heart pounded, Morticia's lesson echoing: Feel it. Channel the emotion. He focused on his resolve—protecting Enid, saving Nevermore—and power surged, untamed and fierce. "Impedimenta!" he shouted, the spell a wave of force that slammed the gargoyle into the ground, stone shattering across the grass outside, the impact jarring his bones.
His breath caught, shock and pride warring. "I did that. All me." Wednesday's gaze flicked to him, a rare nod of respect, her lips twitching in approval. Bianca's eyes widened, her posture softening, a flicker of grudging admiration crossing her face. "They see me now. Not just the awkward guy in the tie."
The air buzzed with ozone, the metallic tang sharper, tying to the gem, the parchment, and the Serpent's mystery. Another gargoyle charged, its violet eyes locking onto Oliver, and a wave of energy hit him—not painful but invasive, like ice in his veins. A vision seared his mind: a crumbling library, a dark altar, a shadowy figure with Wednesday's face, her eyes glowing violet, radiating malice.
He gasped, the image a knife in his gut, hands shaking as the vision faded. "A prophecy? A warning?" The gargoyle fell, its eyes dimming, and Eldric's shadowy form appeared briefly in the distance, a taunting specter vanishing into the night. Wednesday's knife slashed the air, her frustration palpable, while Bianca's scream faded, her breath ragged.
[SYSTEM: Threat Neutralized. SP Awarded: 100. Vision Logged.]
The System's voice was cold, but Oliver's mind reeled, the vision's weight crushing. Wednesday's gaze met his, questioning, her fingers tightening around her knife, but he shook his head, throat tight. "I can't tell her. Not yet."
The gargoyles were stone again, scattered across the lawn, the air heavy with dust and ozone, the crowd's panic fading to whispers. Wednesday sheathed her knife, her posture rigid but eyes softer, a new trust forming, her braid still as she scanned the wreckage. Bianca brushed her silver hair back, voice low, her usual venom tempered.
"You're not bad, Smoak," she said, grudging respect in her tone, fingers relaxing. "For a magician who looks like he got dressed in the dark."
Her quip sparked a weak laugh from Oliver, a fleeting relief against the vision's shadow. "She's warming up. Barely." The compass in his pocket hummed, its needle now pointing steadily toward an ominous location—Eldric's lair. The night was quiet, but the game had escalated, the metallic tang lingering, tying to the gem, the parchment, and the Serpent's mystery. Oliver's boots crunched on shattered stone as he stepped outside, the cold air biting his skin, the weight of a dark future pressing down.
"Eldric's real, and he's playing for keeps. That vision—Wednesday, but not Wednesday. Is it a trick, or is she in danger? The compass points to his lair, and I'm not ready. But I'm going anyway. Wednesday trusts me now, and Bianca's not just a rival—she's a fighter. Enid's safe, but for how long? The System's my secret, and it's staying that way. Nevermore's a warzone, and I'm not failing."
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