Grimm Affection ~Wenclair~

Books

Wednesday's POV:

I am simultaneously perplexed and exhilarated, though one would never know it by observing my countenance. The sensation is akin to unearthing a forgotten relic buried deep within the sands of time—hidden, waiting, beckoning to be discovered. This book is an enigma, an affront to the meticulously cataloged chaos that is the Addams family library. Its mere existence here defies logic, and that, above all else, ignites my curiosity.

The hieroglyphs scrawled across the brittle parchment are unlike any I have encountered in my exhaustive studies of ancient Egyptian mythology. The symbols mock me, tantalizingly familiar yet utterly alien, and I cannot suppress the faintest flicker of excitement at the challenge they present.

A mystery that even I cannot immediately solve.

Fascinating.

"Enid," I say, my voice a monotone blade slicing through the charged air. "Come. We must locate additional volumes of this nature."

She hesitates, her vibrant blue eyes darting toward me, brimming with a concoction of concern and barely restrained energy. She is a chaotic force of emotion, a stark contrast to my own deliberate control. Her hesitation frustrates me, though I remind myself that she cannot be expected to operate with the same intellectual rigor.

Without waiting for her response, I ascend one of the rolling ladders affixed to the towering shelves. The sensation of rising above the ground, surrounded by endless volumes of knowledge, is one of the few comforts I allow myself. As I reach the upper levels, I push off with a sharp kick, gliding smoothly across the rails until I come to an abrupt halt at the end of the row.

"Look for something anomalous," I instruct her as I scan the spines of the ancient tomes. My voice remains steady, but my words are laced with a subtle impatience. "Books that defy logic, much like this one. Specifically, search for markings that resemble the branding on my arm. However, refrain from pulling every text you find merely 'weird.' Your instincts, while well-meaning, are prone to error."

Her lips press into a thin line, her jaw tightening. She detests when I question her abilities, yet she continues to tolerate it.

The dynamic between us is a study in contrasts—my calculated detachment against her tempestuous passion.

"I can handle it," she replies, though her tone is strained. I catch the flicker of determination in her eyes as she begins her search.

As I continue to scrutinize the shelves, my mind races. The hieroglyphs are clearly tied to Horus, but their design deviates significantly from his traditional symbols. Could they represent a hidden aspect of his mythology, one deliberately obscured by time?

The Egyptians were masters of esotericism, layering their myths with dualities and paradoxes. Horus himself was a study in contradictions—a god of healing who caused destruction, a figure of protection who sowed chaos.

These markings, however, suggest something far darker. They speak of corruption, of power tainted by greed and ambition. The parallels to the curse on my arm are too striking to ignore. Could this book—and by extension, this library—be attempting to reveal something crucial?

The Addams Family has always been a magnet for the arcane and the cursed, but this feels deliberate.

Intentional.

The faint sound of Enid shuffling books below draws my attention. She moves with an urgency that borders on recklessness, her frustration evident in the heavy sighs that punctuate her efforts.