On Thing's side, he stood in front of Weems' desk, hands moving rapidly as he signed.
Weems watched him with a tightening expression, irritation clear on her face. She had never been fluent in sign language, and whatever Thing was trying to convey was coming too fast, too fragmented.
Only after a moment—when his gestures slowed and repeated—did the meaning begin to sink in.
"What are you saying—Wednesday is in danger, and one of the teachers kidnapped Enid?" Weems asked, her tone sharp now.
Thing tapped emphatically, repeating the gesture until it was unmistakable.
Weems straightened, irritation slowly giving way to concern. She didn't understand half of what Wednesday was usually up to, but this much was undeniable: one of her students was missing, another was in danger, and a member of her staff was involved.
She could dismiss it as just another one of Wednesday's antics—but if Wednesday was right, truly right, then the damage would be catastrophic.
That was not something she could afford to ignore.
"Where are they?" Weems asked again.
Thing signed carefully this time, slower.
Raven Island.
The crypt.
On Ethan's side, he stood with a massive tree ripped clean from the ground.
In front of him, Crackstone stepped out of the wreckage—robes scorched, staff intact, body completely uninjured.
Ethan exhaled slowly. "Wow. Super durable. That's irritating."
"Goody was clear," Wednesday said, steady despite the chaos. "The heart. It has to be the heart."
Crackstone lifted his staff, eyes burning as they locked onto Wednesday.
"So," he said, voice echoing with old venom, "the raven still hides behind monsters and tricks. Just like your ancestor."
The ground shuddered as he slammed the staff down. A wave of force tore through the clearing, sending debris and broken branches flying.
Ethan dug his heels in, absorbing the impact. "He talks a lot for a walking corpse."
Crackstone sneered. "You are an abomination—both of you. Errors that should have been erased centuries ago." His gaze returned to Wednesday. "I ended your kind once. I will enjoy doing it again."
He thrust his staff forward. Fire ripped through the air toward them.
Ethan swung the uprooted tree like a shield, flames exploding on impact. Splinters flew, embers scattering across the forest floor.
The forest ignited around them, flames crawling up tree trunks and racing through fallen leaves, turning the clearing into a ring of fire.
Ethan didn't take his eyes off Crackstone.
"I'll keep him busy," he said evenly. "You know when to go for the heart."
"Good," Wednesday replied, already shifting her stance.
Ethan launched forward.
Red lightning wrapped his arm as he drove a punch straight toward Crackstone's chest—fast, brutal, meant to end it. Crackstone reacted instantly, snapping his staff up to block. The impact cracked the air, energy flaring between fist and wood.
Crackstone laughed, low and cruel.
"Useless. This body is beyond death. You cannot kill what no longer lives."
He twisted the staff and swung it toward Ethan's throat.
Ethan caught it mid-arc.
The ground groaned under the force as he planted his feet. Muscles tightened. With a sharp pull, he ripped Crackstone off balance, lifting him clean off the ground like dead weight.
"Wrong," Ethan said quietly.
He slammed Crackstone down.
The impact shook the forest floor, dirt and embers exploding outward as Crackstone hit hard, the earth cratering beneath him. Flames wavered. Trees shuddered.
Ethan didn't let go. He hauled Crackstone up again, muscles coiling for the next slam—
—but the staff flared.
A burst of fire ripped outward, forcing Ethan to release and leap back as heat scorched the air where he'd been standing. Crackstone staggered, boots skidding through ash, trying to regain his balance.
He didn't get the chance.
Ethan's hand snapped up. Invisible force crushed down on Crackstone mid-step, yanking him off the ground and locking him in place. Crackstone thrashed, staff vibrating, flames sputtering as his limbs froze against the pressure.
Ethan's eyes burned red.
"Wednesday—now!"
Wednesday moved the moment he shouted.
No pause. No doubt.
She sprinted straight at Crackstone, sword low, grip tight. Fire snapped around her boots, but she didn't slow. Crackstone twisted toward her, staff rising—
Too late.
She drove the blade forward with brutal precision, straight into his chest.
The sword punched through decayed flesh and bone and buried itself in the black heart.
Crackstone screamed—not in pain, but in raw fury.
The flames around them wavered. His body split with glowing fractures, light leaking through as Ethan released his hold. Crackstone staggered, staring down at the blade impaling him.
"No—" he rasped, voice cracking. "I cannot— I was chosen— I was eternal—"
Wednesday stepped closer.
She twisted the blade.
Crackstone's scream turned desperate. "NO— I WILL NOT DIE— I—"
The sound cut off.
His body collapsed inward, breaking apart into ash and burning cinders that scattered across the scorched ground.
Silence followed as the fire was extinguished almost immediately.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Weems' shout cut through the clearing as she arrived—just as Wednesday delivered the final blow. She froze, not understanding how Crackstone was even alive. He was supposed to be dead.
What the hell was going on here?
Wednesday straightened, expression unchanged.
"This," she said evenly, "is exactly what I've been trying to tell you."
She turned to face Weems fully.
"The monster was never just a monster. It was planning something." A trace of satisfaction crossed her face. "And this… is that something."
For once, the woman who had always called her delusional had no answer.
Laurel crawled out of the crypt, teeth clenched in fury as she saw that Crackstone had been killed. But she didn't care. Not really. She had already prepared for this.
Laurel had a backup plan.
Tyler would finish it.
If things hadn't gone as planned, she had already given the order. Tyler was to massacre the students of Nevermore. One way or another, the outcasts would pay.
Then the air shifted.
Ethan was suddenly in front of her.
She didn't even have time to react.
The world snapped sideways—trees streaked past—and then impact. Her back slammed into a trunk hard enough to crack bark. Pain exploded through her spine. She slid down, gasping, useless.
He stepped closer.
Eyes glowing. Veins dark and alive beneath his skin. When his fangs slid free, there was no rush—just certainty.
"I'm really hungry," Ethan said quietly. "Your little stunt caused more damage than you realized."
Normally, blood wasn't necessary. Human food was enough.
But the forced healing had drained him. Now he needed human blood—urgently—or he would lose control and descend into a berserk vampiric state. The signs were already there, impossible to ignore.
He was a vampire, after all.
And he had already promised that bitch she would die a painful, ugly death.
*****
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