On Wednesday's side, the two of them moved carefully through the monastery corridors while Morticia followed a few steps behind, the beam from Wednesday's torch sliding across old stone walls and broken religious statues.
The silence inside the abbey felt wrong.
"Strangely nostalgic," Morticia said softly as they walked. "Doesn't this remind you of the hide-and-seek games we used to play when you were five?"
Wednesday kept her eyes forward. "You mean the ones where the house was filled with traps and armed relatives actively trying to kill me?"
Morticia smiled faintly at the memory. "Your father believed adversity built character."
"He also believed releasing rabid animals indoors encouraged problem-solving."
"And you solved the problem beautifully."
Wednesday glanced briefly toward her mother. "I was hospitalized for two days."
"But you won."
Wednesday considered that for a second.
"That is true."
Morticia's expression softened slightly as she watched her daughter move through the darkness without hesitation. "You always enjoyed the things other people feared."
Wednesday slowed her pace slightly, the torchlight shifting across the corridor walls. "But sometimes I think you never really wanted me to turn out differently from you."
Morticia's smile faded just a little.
"You misunderstand me, darling."
"Do I?" Wednesday turned toward her fully now. "You transferred me to Nevermore because you wanted me surrounded by people who would shape me into something closer to you. You call it freedom, but it was still your choice."
Morticia stayed quiet for a moment.
"You wanted me walking down the same path you did," Wednesday continued. "The same school. The same expectations. The same life." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You know how much I despise being controlled."
Morticia looked at her daughter carefully, the usual elegance in her expression giving way to something more honest.
"I know," she said softly. "And for that… I am sorry."
Wednesday didn't answer.
Morticia stepped closer, her voice gentler now. "You must understand something, Wednesday. I never wanted to control you because I doubted your strength. I tried to protect you because I was afraid."
That made Wednesday's expression shift slightly.
"I was afraid," Morticia admitted quietly, "that one day you would follow a path so dark, so dangerous, that I would lose you completely."
The monastery fell silent around them.
Wednesday looked away first.
"You say that like danger is unusual for me."
"No," Morticia replied with a faint smile. "Danger has adored you since birth." Her gaze softened again. "But you're still my daughter. That never stopped frightening me."
She was quiet for a moment before continuing.
"You remind me of someone in our family," Morticia said softly. "Someone so confident in her own abilities that she believed nothing could ever truly harm her."
Wednesday's eyes narrowed slightly. "Aunt Ophelia."
Morticia nodded once.
"You rarely speak about your sister."
"Because it isn't a pleasant story."
The corridor fell quiet again except for the distant creaking of the monastery around them.
"She had visions too," Morticia continued. "Stronger than mine. Stronger than most psychics in our family." Her expression darkened slightly at the memory. "At first she adored them. She treated them like a gift that made her untouchable."
Wednesday listened without interrupting.
"But visions are not harmless things," Morticia said quietly. "The mind is not meant to carry every possible future, every death, every fragment of suffering all at once." She looked down briefly.
"Eventually the visions stopped being occasional."
"And started consuming her," Wednesday finished.
Morticia gave a slow nod.
"She began seeing things constantly. She stopped sleeping. Stopped separating reality from prophecy." Her voice lowered further. "Then one day she entered a manic episode so severe the family had no choice but to place her in Willow Hill."
"She hanged herself three months later."
The words settled heavily between them.
Wednesday's expression didn't change much, but her grip around the torch tightened slightly before relaxing again.
"Don't worry, mother," she said calmly. "I'm not weak-willed like your sister. Even if something like that happened to me, death wouldn't be an option I'd consider." Her eyes shifted briefly toward Morticia. "You'd be the first person I'd contact before it ever reached that point."
Something in Morticia's expression softened immediately at those words.
"Then let us ensure it never does," Morticia said quietly. "I already lost one sister to those visions. I refuse to lose my daughter to them as well."
Before Wednesday could answer, two red beams suddenly tore through the monastery walls somewhere ahead, flooding the corridor with violent crimson light for a split second.
The entire abbey shook.
Stone cracked.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
Wednesday stopped immediately. She recognized that color instantly.
"Ethan," she said.
Without another word, both she and Morticia moved toward the source of the impact, following the destroyed corridor until they reached a shattered chamber deeper inside the monastery.
The room looked like something had detonated inside it.
Black blood smeared across the floor and ceiling.
At the center of the destruction stood Ethan, surrounded by the remains of countless dead snakes scattered around him in pieces. Torn bodies twitched weakly across the cracked floor while traces of venom hissed against the stone.
***
A/N: And on Patreon, The Boys arc started.
The Patreon version is already updated with 46 advanced chapters. If you'd like to read ahead of the public release schedule, you can join here:
👉 patreon.com/JamesA211