The morning dawned gray and soft over Nevermore Academy. The spires pierced the mist like blackened fingers reaching into the clouds, and the scent of wet stone and moss filled the air. Even the courtyard seemed subdued, the students' movements hesitant, as if the fog muted their voices and made the day slower, heavier.
Agnes DeMille rose early, her pale hands pressed against the edge of her bed as she stared at the floor. The candlelight from the night before still lingered faintly in her mind, the memory of Sid's calm presence replaying over and over. But with morning came the weight of reality.
"I can't keep doing this alone," she thought, her heart tight. "I can't hold my magic anymore. It's slipping. I feel… like I'm fading."
Her invisibility shimmered faintly, betraying the fear coursing through her veins. A flicker of herself vanished and returned, unsteady, unstable — her own magic turning against her. Each breath she took seemed heavy, as if the world itself pressed against her chest.
She dressed carefully, choosing dark colors as always, so she would not draw attention. But attention had a way of finding her anyway. Whispers drifted down the hall. A classmate's eyes lingered too long, another stepped back quickly. The fear and loneliness she carried were mirrored in her own unstable power, and the more she tried to ignore it, the more it wavered.
At breakfast, Agnes moved silently through the dining hall. Enid sat across from her, bright and lively as ever, but Agnes felt a distance that words could never bridge. The laughter around her sounded hollow, a reminder that no one truly understood her, no one could see her fragility or the invisible threads of magic trembling at her fingertips.
"I'm so tired,"* she whispered to herself, almost inaudible, but the words echoed inside her like a confession to the empty hall. "So tired of hiding. So tired of disappearing."
---
The day dragged. Each class felt longer than the last. Spells, history of magic, potion preparation — all were tests of patience and skill, but for Agnes, the real challenge was not failing the lesson; it was maintaining control over herself. Her invisibility flickered constantly. A sudden surge of emotion — a pang of loneliness or fear — and she would nearly vanish completely, leaving her hands trembling as she gripped her notebook tightly.
During a break, she slipped into a quiet corridor, pressing her back against the cold stone wall. She closed her eyes, trying to stabilize the power that threatened to betray her. Her breathing came in uneven bursts.
"Focus… control… don't let it take me," she muttered. "I can't disappear. Not yet. Not like this."
But the more she tried to force it, the more unstable her magic became. The invisibility flickered violently, making her limbs feel unreal, as if she might fade from existence entirely. A small sob threatened to escape, but she swallowed it quickly, hating herself for being weak.
It was then that her thoughts drifted to Sid Edward. She remembered the North Spire, the candlelight, Ryuchi coiled calmly on his shoulder, and the quiet authority in his voice.
"He doesn't judge me," she thought."He… he sees me. Maybe… maybe he can help me control this."
The thought was both terrifying and comforting. Terrifying because trusting someone with her instability was dangerous; comforting because for the first time in her life, she felt like she could be understood.
---
Evening approached slowly, painting the sky in muted shades of violet and gray. Agnes moved with quiet urgency through the corridors, her footsteps light, almost hesitant, as if the hallways themselves might notice her presence. She reached the base of the North Spire, heart pounding like a drum.
"I hope… I hope I can do this," she whispered.
She knocked gently on the heavy oak door. A soft, measured voice answered:
"Enter."
Stepping inside, Agnes felt the atmosphere shift. The North Spire room was quiet, untouched by the bustle of the academy. The candlelight flickered across old stone walls and the polished wooden floor. The air smelled faintly of wax and old parchment.
Sid Edward sat cross-legged in the center, Ryuzen open before him. Ryuchi coiled lazily around his arm, eyes glinting in the dim light. The Ryuken rested against the wall, its presence dark and foreboding, untouched.
" Finally, You came," Sid said softly, his calm gaze meeting hers.
"I… I need help," Agnes whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't control it… my invisibility… it's slipping. I'm… afraid I'll disappear completely."
Sid's eyes softened faintly, but his posture remained composed. "Then we begin," he said. "Sit."
Agnes moved forward carefully, sitting across from him. The candlelight flickered between them, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. She could feel the pull of him — calm, steady, like a tether holding her from falling into chaos.
"The first lesson," Sid said softly, "is observation. You do not fight your fear. You do not try to suppress it. You allow it to exist, while noticing how it interacts with your magic."
Agnes swallowed. She nodded, trying to steady her hands.
"Close your eyes," Sid continued. "Breathe. Let the fear flow through you. Do not resist it. Observe it. Let it guide you rather than overpower you."
Her invisibility flickered as she obeyed, and she felt the familiar tug of instability. Panic rose in her chest, but Sid's calm presence anchored her, steadying her pulse and her shaking hands.
"Better," Sid murmured softly. "Your fear is not the enemy. It is a guide. Listen to it."
Agnes's lips parted, her chest heaving. She dared a glance at him. His eyes were calm, patient, and faintly reassuring. For the first time, she felt seen. Not just by anyone, but by someone who understood — who could guide her without judgment.
"Maybe… maybe I'm not alone," she thought softly, feeling warmth spreading through her chest.
---
Sid guided her through the evening. Every subtle adjustment — her breathing, her posture, the energy coursing through her limbs — was corrected with quiet patience. Ryuchi hissed softly from his shoulder, observing every movement.
"Careful," Ryuchi murmured. "Fear and trust are both storms. They can destroy or guide."
"I guide," Sid said softly, almost a whisper, and Agnes felt it. She felt his calm, his patience, his careful observation. The storm of her loneliness and fear eased slightly under his presence.
Hours passed slowly. By the end of the evening, Agnes felt her invisibility stabilize more than it had in weeks. Not fully mastered, but steadier. Her hands no longer trembled uncontrollably, her heartbeat slowed. She dared a small, tentative smile.
"You've done well today," Sid said softly. "Tomorrow, we continue. Step by step. Slowly."
Agnes nodded, a faint blush warming her cheeks. "Thank you… Sid."
"Do not thank me yet," he murmured lightly, voice low and calm. "You are learning. I am only the guide."
As she left the North Spire, the academy seemed smaller, quieter, less oppressive. And somewhere in the shadows across the courtyard, Wednesday Addams observed silently, noting every glance, every subtle shift of emotion, her black eyes sharp and calculating.
For Agnes, the day had been exhausting, frightening, and yet… strangely hopeful. The first step toward control, toward trust, and toward a bond that might become something more than she had ever dared to imagine, had begun.
--Next day--
The day begins with hope...a hope of something that can't be defined easily.
The day goes normally ... Agnes is suffering from her emotional breakdown...but she controls it from other students from seeing it...
Then in the evening, Agnes is really curious to learn something new...she moved through the corridors filled with students...and then reached her destination...the dorm of Sid Eward...
The candlelight flickered softly in the North Spire room, casting shadows across the stone walls. Ryuchi's white scales reflected the glow, creating a shimmering halo around Sid's calm figure. Agnes sat across from him, hands trembling slightly, her eyes darting nervously from the flickering candle to the polished pages of the Ryuzen Book.
"The next step," Sid said softly, voice calm and steady, "is to feel your power. Not control it yet. Not fight it. Just… feel it. Let it exist. Let it speak."
Agnes closed her eyes, taking a deep, uneven breath. Her invisibility shimmered faintly, like a mirage in the dim light. Fear rose quickly in her chest, a sharp, clawing panic that made her tremble.
"Don't let it take me… please, don't let me vanish…"
Sid's eyes never left her face. His calm presence was steady, like an anchor in a stormy sea.
"Observe it," he said softly. "Notice how it reacts when fear rises. Notice the edges where it begins to slip. Do not judge yourself. Do not fight."
Agnes's hands clenched in her lap, her pulse racing. Her invisibility flickered violently. One moment, her hands were solid; the next, they shimmered and partially disappeared. A small gasp escaped her lips, but Sid's calm voice guided her like a lifeline.
"Good. You feel it. That is the first step. Your fear is not weakness. It is a signal. Learn to read it."
Slowly, tentatively, Agnes focused. She let her fear flow through her, letting it ripple through her body rather than trying to push it away. Her invisibility flickered less violently. A small sense of control returned, fragile but present.
"Better," Sid said, his voice soft, almost intimate. "Now, try to stabilize it. Feel the edges of your magic, and imagine a line connecting it to yourself. You are not losing it. You are guiding it."
Agnes's chest heaved. She imagined a silver thread running from her heart to her hands, to her whole body. The flickering of her invisibility slowed. A small spark of hope bloomed in her chest.
"I… I can do this… maybe…"
Hours passed slowly. Sid guided her with quiet patience, correcting her posture, her breathing, the subtle shifts of energy in her limbs. Every time Agnes faltered, he offered calm reassurance rather than criticism.
"Do not fear failure," he murmured. "Fear is part of the lesson. Every tremble, every slip, every flicker is information. Learn from it."
Agnes's hands stopped shaking slightly. Her invisibility stabilized further, though still fragile. Her chest heaved, but not from panic — from effort, from concentration, from the quiet pride of her first small victory.
"You are stronger than you think," Sid added softly, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. The candlelight caught the faint glint of warmth in his dark eyes.
Agnes's breath caught. That look, calm, steady, patient — it sent a flutter through her chest she had not felt before. A dangerous, delicate warmth that made her cheeks flush faintly.
"Why does he make me feel… safe? Why does my heart… feel like this?"
Ryuchi hissed softly from Sid's shoulder.
"Careful, Sid Edward. Emotions like this can be as dangerous as the magic she cannot yet control."
Sid's lips curved faintly in a ghost of a smile.
"I guide. Not interfere."
The lesson continued, slow and deliberate. Sid instructed Agnes to move her hands slightly, focusing the energy flowing through her invisibility, directing it like water along invisible channels. At first, her hands flickered, half-vanished, trembling violently. But Sid's calm presence guided her, every soft word anchoring her to the present.
"Focus on your heartbeat. Match the rhythm of your breath with the energy. Let it flow, do not fight it. You are not invisible — you are present. You are real."
Agnes's pulse quickened as she tried to follow his guidance. Slowly, she felt the edges of her power respond, a gentle glow of stability returning. For the first time in weeks, she felt like herself again. Not hidden, not lost — herself.
"Yes… that's it," Sid whispered, voice low, almost reverent. "Hold it there. Feel it. You are doing well."
Agnes's eyes flicked up to his. The flicker of candlelight caught in his dark eyes, reflecting a quiet pride, a soft warmth she had not expected. Her chest fluttered, her pulse racing with more than magic or effort — a personal, human thrill.
"Why does he look at me like that? Why does it feel like… he sees me?"
The evening wore on. Every movement, every flicker of her invisibility, every subtle correction from Sid built something delicate and profound — a bond that was quiet, unspoken, but undeniable.
By the end of the session, Agnes felt exhausted, but triumphant. Her invisibility was steadier than it had been in months. Her hands no longer trembled violently. Her breathing had slowed, calmer, steadier. And for the first time, she realized: she trusted him.
"Thank you… Sid," she whispered, voice soft, almost shy.
"You need not thank me," Sid said quietly. "You are learning. I am only guiding. Tomorrow, we continue."
Agnes nodded, her heart fluttering faintly at the sound of his voice. A warmth lingered in her chest, subtle, dangerous, and utterly new.
As she left the North Spire, stepping back into the misty evening corridors, the weight of the day fell away. She had faced her fear. She had stabilized her power. And she had taken the first step toward trust — toward something… more.
Outside, across the courtyard, Wednesday Addams watched silently, her sharp eyes noting every gesture, every glance, every subtle heartbeat of connection. She did not speak, but she understood — the calm boy and the lonely girl had begun something that could not be ignored.
And somewhere, deep in the North Spire, Ryuchi coiled thoughtfully around Sid's arm, eyes glinting with quiet amusement.
"The heart, Sid Edward… it is the most unpredictable magic of all."
Sid's gaze lingered on the door Agnes had just closed behind her. Calm, patient, observing.
"I guide. Nothing more. But perhaps… in time…"
The night settled over Nevermore, quiet and dark, but inside the forbidden tower, a slow, delicate bond was beginning to bloom— one that would grow, layer by layer, lesson by lesson, moment by moment.