Weems led Wednesday, Enid, and Yoko—along with the rest of their Black Cat crew—to the Quad, where the entire school had gathered.She placed the trophy beside her and addressed the crowd. "The first Poe Cup took place in 1897 as a way to honor Nevermore's most famous alumnus and celebrate the values all Outcasts share: community, perseverance, and determination. We certainly saw those on display today."
Enid snatched the trophy from Weems with a squeal. "Whoo! Yeah!"
Weems flashed a genuine smile. "Congratulations to Ophelia Hall! As a former resident, I'm thrilled to see the cup back on the mantle after all these years."
Aleksander clapped with the cheering students, but he knew Wednesday hated the spotlight—especially all those beaming faces aimed her way.Sure enough, she scowled and slipped away.
Aleksander followed.Wednesday retreated to a secluded corner of the Quad, slumping beside the statue of Edgar Allan Poe. She sighed, then glanced up—and froze. Carved into the stone was the same symbol Aleksander had shown her: the mark of the Nightshade Society.
He arrived a moment later. "Looks like all the smiley faces are unnerving you."
Wednesday deadpanned, "It's unsettling."
Enid bounded over, catching the tail end. "That's called having your moment. You took down Bianca Barclay. Try enjoying it."
Wednesday shot her a flat look. Aleksander turned serious. "I saw you get a vision during the race."
Enid's eyes widened—worried, curious. She knew Wednesday was a Raven; those visions always skewed dark.Wednesday frowned. "A girl who looked like me, but with blonde hair. I think she's my ancestor, Goody Addams."
Aleksander hummed. "Did she say anything? Leave a message?"
Wednesday nodded. "She said I'm the key."
Something clicked for Aleksander. He muttered, "So that's it."
Wednesday's gaze sharpened. "What did you find?"
He shrugged. "Marilyn Thornhill's going all out. Remember the painting by Rowan's mom? Burning Nevermore, you fighting someone in Crackstone's pilgrim rags?"
Wednesday nodded as he pressed on. "We thought it was some Crackstone wannabe. But now? That's the real Joseph Crackstone—resurrected by Thornhill."
Wednesday and Enid exchanged grim looks.
Enid blurted, "But what's the 'key'? How's it link to Wednesday?"
Aleksander leaned in. "Crackstone hated Outcasts, called them evil, convinced his pilgrims to slaughter them. Your ancestor Goody Addams? He accused her of witchcraft. She escaped the crypt where he burned dozens—including her own mother—then killed him. Cursed his soul forever. She was a witchcraft prodigy."
Wednesday and Enid shared a flicker of awe for Goody.
Aleksander added, "With Crackstone back, Goody's 'key' has to be a blood lock. Not a sacrifice—she wouldn't demand that."
Wednesday's frown deepened. "So Thornhill needs my blood to finish resurrecting him."
Enid paled. "She wants Crackstone to finish what he started."
Aleksander's expression darkened. "Also, Goody's spell book—the Codex Umbrarüm, aka the Book of Shadows kept in Pilgrim World—went missing a month ago."
Wednesday deadpanned, "Easy guess: Thornhill stole it. She needs the spell to unlock Crackstone's curse."
Aleksander nodded—then Enid's eyes went wide. "Oh shit. Tomorrow's October 25th. Outreach Day."
Wednesday arched a brow. Enid rushed on: "It's this Jericho thing—Nevermore kids mix with Normies, show we're not monsters. Students, staff, locals. Total powder keg."
Enid shivered. "Outreach Day in Jericho... right by Pilgrim World. If she's got the book and your blood..."
Wednesday's eyes gleamed coldly. "Game on."
Enid grabbed Wednesday's arm, dragging her back toward the Quad's lingering crowd.
Aleksander trailed behind, his phone buzzing in his pocket.He pulled it out—a message from his uncle, with profiles on two new recruits.
First: Dorn, the computer and tech specialist. He knew the guy already.
Second: Cisco Ramon, protégé of Dr. Alfred Lanning. Master engineer, tech whiz for the group.
Aleksander's brow arched. He'd heard the name before, but this? Surprising. No Wayne Industries, Gotham, or Central City here—so this had to be a variant Cisco Ramon.
He smirked, muttering under his breath, "Things are getting more and more interesting."
He'd already messaged his mother earlier: Need bigger space. Group's expanding. State-of-the-art gear.
He knew she'd deliver. She'd built Erudite Core Technologies from scratch into a tech behemoth—spanning everyday gadgets like phones and computers to bleeding-edge marvels like supercomputers and ASML lithography machines.
It exploded after he gave her those mind-enhancing pills. Their labs now churned out tech generations ahead—stuff so advanced she'd throttled release, wary of the timeline or dangerous tech falling into wrong hands.
His phone pinged: Ready next month. Pick: New Jersey Mansion (Wayne model) or Malibu Mansion (Stark model)?
[Note comment on top,which one?]
But his mind shifted to Marilyn Thornhill. He could end her now—snag the Codex, spike her ritual, done. Easy.
But no. He wanted to break her. Shatter her spirit by letting her play out every move, then reveal they'd known from day one. Turn her grand resurrection into a clown show.
A slow, predatory smile spread. Perfect.
[A/N:So any suggestions for future cases, I have two original cases. I will choose the third one from the comments.]