𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Into the calm and the quiet



•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

𝕋ℍ𝔼 Black Cats team was settled in their canoe, ready for the Poe Cup race. Enid sat at the front, her excitement barely contained, while Lilith took her place directly behind Wednesday. The air was thick with anticipation as the contestants lined up, their canoes bobbing slightly in the water. The tension was palpable, but it only seemed to fuel Lilith's mischievous energy.

Enid glanced to her side, her heart skipping a beat as she caught sight of Ajax in the neighboring canoe. Dressed in a playful clown costume, he looked utterly charming in his own awkward way. She couldn't help but smile and wave at him, her eyes sparkling with affection. Ajax returned the smile, though he quickly looked away, a shy grin playing on his lips as he avoided her gaze.

Wednesday noticed the exchange and shot. Enid a blank, disapproving stare. "Focus," he instructed, his voice flat and unyielding.

Just then, Lilith leaned forward, bringing her lips close to Wednesday's ear. Her voice was soft and dripping with flirtation as she whispered, "Hey, kitty."

The words were laced with a teasing purr, sending a shiver down Wednesday's spine. He stiffened, caught completely off guard. His heart skipped a beat, and for the first time that day, he felt the warmth of a blush creeping up his neck. Wednesday turned his head sharply, glaring at Lilith, but there was no mistaking the flustered look in his eyes.

Lilith leaned back into her seat, her smirk widening in triumph. She could see the faint pink colouring his pale cheeks, a rare sight that made her feel victorious. Wednesday might have been quick with a glare, but she knew she had rattled him, even if just for a moment.

Her smirk grew as she met his gaze, and she could practically feel the heat of his lingering annoyance-and something else he wouldn't dare admit. The race hadn't even begun, but Lilith knew she had already scored a win of her own.

Just as the tension in the air seemed to reach its peak, a voice sliced through the murmur of anticipation. "What do we have here? The runt of the litter?" Bianca's voice dripped with condescension as she glared at the Black Cats from her own canoe, a smug smirk curling her lips.

Lilith's gaze turned icy as she locked eyes with Bianca, her expression cold and unforgiving. Before she could retort, Wednesday spoke up, his tone calm yet razor-sharp. "For the record, I don't believe I'm better than everyone else. Just that I'm better than you."

The confidence in his words was enough to make Bianca's smirk waver. She blinked, caught off guard by the direct hit, and a flicker of confusion crossed her face as she turned her gaze forward, the taunt she had ready dying on her lips.

Lilith, meanwhile, couldn't help but turn her eyes to Wednesday, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There was something deeply satisfying in seeing Bianca's confidence shaken, and Wednesday's retort only deepened her admiration for him.

At that moment, the commanding voice of Principal Weems captured everyone's attention. "I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allan Poe Cup," she began, her voice carrying over the water. "This is one of Nevermore's proudest annual traditions, dating back 125 years. Each team must row across Raven's Island, pull a flag from Crackstone's Crypt, and hustle back without sinking or being sunk."