Aleksander adjusted his Rave'N outfit in the dim dorm light when a flutter cut the air.
Mathew swooped through the open window, landing with a theatrical flap of midnight wings."Fresh news, Aleksander," the raven croaked in his signature gravelly drawl, head cocked with sly impatience. "And it's just like you guessed."
Aleksander glanced over, calm. "Show me."
Their minds linked in a seamless pulse—Mathew's memories unfolding like a third-person dream sequence, crisp and immediate:In the dim glow of Thornhill's greenhouse, Marilyn Thornhill paced with fervent energy, her eyes alight as she outlined her plan to Tyler."After Rave'N, we'll snatch Wednesday—clean and simple," she said, her voice crisp and teacherly, gesturing to a cluster of venom-laced vines. "My sleeping serum will ensure she's out cold. Then, Crackstone will rise, and we reclaim the outcasts' rightful end. It's poetic, Tyler. Botanical justice."
Tyler nodded, leaning in with feigned eagerness. "I'm all in."
But as he turned to adjust a glowing plant, his gaze flicked outward—past the glass panes to a gnarled tree. There, Mathew perched motionless, black eyes fixed on them.
Tyler held his expression steady. No need to warn Aleksander himself. Mathew would carry the message.
The vision snapped clear. Mathew ruffled his feathers. "Told you. This is high quality Drama in play."
Aleksander finished adjusting his embroidered tuxedo jacket when a sharp knock echoed through the boys' dorm door. He crossed the room in three strides, hand on the knob, and pulled it open to reveal Wednesday and Enid framed in the hallway light—both dressed for Rave'N.
Wednesday stood front and center, black off-shoulder dress hugging her frame, braids neat, pale face set in her usual blank stare under the dim bulb glow.
Enid flanked her right, white feathered mini-dress catching the light, claws retracted, grin wide as she bounced on her heels.
"Ready?" Enid asked, eyes flicking over his tux.
Aleksander nodded and held the door open.
They walked down the hall as a group. Double doors opened to the Rave'N space: white snow-like walls and floor, fake icicles above, fog from machines, platforms on sides, blue lights dim, DJ booth at end.
Music hit hard. Aleksander looked around and saw Lucas with a Nevermore girl. He recalled Enid's story—Lucas had asked her out. Aleksander read his thoughts and found, he just came here to play a harmless prank. Since his thoughts checked out safe, so he let it go.
Wednesday pulls Aleksander into her dance with sharp steps and a fixed stare. He follows loosely, hands relaxed, shifting to the beat without much style.
Enid then grabs his other arm and drags him center, bouncing between them.
The three move together under the blue lights, Aleksander keeping it simple amid their energy
Enid and Wednesday moved to the floor, starting a dance-off for Aleksander—Wednesday stiff and sharp, Enid loose and fun.
Aleksander watched from the platform edge and muttered, "Troublesome."
Aleksander sways loosely between Wednesday and Enid on the dance floor when a faint pull hits his senses—Tyler tucked against a far wall, blending into shadows, head down. Tyler catches his eye and tips a quick nod.
Aleksander's gaze slid past the writhing crowd, locking onto Thornhill. She chatted too closely with Principal Weems near the DJ booth—gestures casual, smile fixed like a porcelain mask. Her thoughts flooded his mind, crystal clear: The plan's ticking down. Almost time.
So she's making her move soon, Aleksander thought, keeping his steps even, weaving through the strobe-lit mob.
Then chaos erupted. Lucas and his crew—Jonah and Carter—grinned like hyenas as they yanked the sprinklers. Crimson "blood" rained from the ceiling in thick, gloopy sheets, soaking outfits and shattering the party's glamour. Screams mixed with laughter; students slipped and slid across the floor, fleeing in a pastel-soaked stampede.
Wednesday stood unflinching amid the deluge, looking oddly at home—like a vampire in her element. She caught a drip on her tongue, tasted it, and deadpanned, "Corn syrup and food coloring. Hardly authentic."
Aleksander's voice pierced her mind like a cold blade: Go to the dorm. Thornhill will make her move.
Wednesday gave him a slight nod, her expression unchanging, and turned toward the dorm. "I'm going to get out of this awful dress," she announced flatly to no one in particular, her heels clicking against the stone path like ticking clockwork.
She slipped into her room, the door creaking shut behind her. The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and wilted nightshade from the open window. It wasn't long before she felt it—a prickling presence, like invisible fingers brushing her spine.
Wednesday spun just as the blow landed. Pain exploded across her skull, stars bursting in her vision. She crumpled to the floor, dazed.
Marilyn Thornhill loomed over her, shovel gripped tight in white-knuckled hands, her botany-teacher facade cracked into something feral. "Tyler, get her!" she hissed urgently. "We can't let anyone see us—especially that boy, Aleksander."