Chapter Text
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As the two dark figures disappeared into a purple mist, leaving harsh smoke curling in the air behind them, Lenore immediately flew to the shattered window that had been broken by her beloved. Her beloved lay on the ground, withering in the torrential rain outside the school building, a stark contrast to the otherwise monotonous ambiance within. Lenore's mind raced frantically, struggling to catch up with the whirlwind of events. She hardly registered the weight of the former deans' discussion, their voices just distant echoes as they faded from her consciousness. The only thought that consumed her was a singular, desperate need to ensure Annabel's safety, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.
Dropping her sword without a second thought, Lenore knelt beside the blonde girl, who was now drenched in dark blood that resembled messy ink spilling across pristine paper. It was an infectious blood, distinct from the crimson stains that marred Lenore’s own skin. No, this blood whispered of something sinister that had claimed Annabel, as if the stag from before had laid its curse upon her. The world around them fell silent, the relentless ticking of the school clock echoing ominously in the wind, marking the time at five in the morning. Dawn was just on the horizon, a promise of new beginnings that seemed painfully ironic under the circumstances. It would have been good news, perhaps even the best news imaginable in the dreadful environment of their school, but Lenore felt only a hollow ache in her chest. Her heart beat slowly, a heavy thrum in a void that felt inexplicably empty. Meanwhile, Annabel's heart had stopped.
With trembling hands, stained and slick with blood, Lenore brushed gently against Annabel's face, her touch as light as a whisper. She pushed aside the damp strands of blonde hair clinging to the girl’s forehead, revealing the gruesome truth underneath—the evidence of an agonizing struggle. The dark blood smeared across Annabel’s features made it appear as though tears were streaming down her cheeks, catching the light under the weak glow of the moonlight, giving her a ghostly, sorrowful appearance. Lenore knew all too well what Annabel likely felt, the unyielding regret that would envelop her if she awakened. The burden of helplessness weighed heavily on Lenore, knowing she hadn’t been able to protect her beloved in time.
Minutes turned into what felt like an eternity. Time lost its meaning as Lenore's red eyes remained transfixed on Annabel’s lifeless form, the girl who once radiated warmth and life. The school grounds, typically bustling with the vibrancy of one another, now seemed a macabre graveyard, each passing second amplifying the hollow silence that surrounded them. Perhaps that's what this school always was after all. Lenore clenched her fists, fighting back the tide of despair threatening to overwhelm her. If only she had arrived sooner, if only fate had played differently. The bitter taste of regret lingered on her tongue as she held Annabel’s unresponsive hand in hers, feeling the coldness of it, a stark reminder of the fragility of life.
Just when it seemed all hope had slipped through her fingers, Annabel's voice emerged, faint but unmistakable. "Ha...Lenore...?" It was barely a whisper, brushing past the barrier of despair that enveloped them. The sound sent a shock of electricity through Lenore, a flicker of life igniting within the depths of her being. Lenore immediately opened her eyes, widening in disbelief as she saw Annabel's limbs moving slightly. She leaned closer, desperate to grasp any hint of consciousness within Annabel’s depths of darkness. Lenore felt the warmth of her own tears mingling with the rain that continued to pour relentlessly, washing over them both—a cleansing, albeit painful, reminder of their fragility.
The faint coughs that escaped Annabel's lips filled Lenore with a flicker of hope. "Annabel? Annabel Lee!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mixture of joy and concern. With urgency, Lenore reached out, propping the blonde woman gently against her knee. A small smile broke across Lenore's face, one filled with both relief and tenderness as she saw Annabel's familiar features. "Pet...? Is it really... you?" Lenore could see Annabel's eyes flickering from side to side, those once bright garnet eyes now appearing muted, almost a dusty pink.
Lenore nodded fervently, her hand resting on Annabel's shoulder, trying to anchor her in this moment. Though the reunion was bittersweet, the atmosphere grew heavy as time passed, and Lenore could not help but notice the disheveled state of her lover. The once elegant strands of Annabel’s hair hung limply, and her skin appeared pallid, a stark contrast to the vibrancy Lenore remembered. As Lenore gazed down at her, something unsettling caught her attention. Tiny sparks of dust swirled in the air around Annabel, floating like remnants of a fleeting dream. Each particle shimmered momentarily before disappearing, creating the disconcerting illusion that Annabel was fading away, slipping through Lenore's fingers like grains of snow.
"Annabel, oh no..." Lenore breathed, her voice laced with dread. She instinctively looked up at the clock mounted on the wall above them, its steady ticks increasing in volume, a relentless reminder of the passing time. Each tick felt like a countdown, a measure of Annabel's diminishing strength, as if it were biding its time until it would usher in a final farewell. Lenore felt a pang of panic rise within her chest; she needed to act, to do something, anything that might encapsulate the essence of this moment.
Returning her gaze to Annabel, Lenore noticed how quickly her lover's energy was waning. The warmth that once radiated from Annabel was quickly dissipating, replaced by an icy silence. Lenore could see the struggle in Annabel's eyes, the flicker of life battling against the inevitable. The room felt suffocating, each breath growing heavier as Lenore grappled with the impending loss.
"Stay with me, Annabel," Lenore whispered urgently, her voice imbued with desperation. "You have to hold on." She brushed Annabel's hair away from her face, trying to find those familiar features that had once shone with such vitality. Lenore willed the softness of her touch to bring some form of clarity and comfort to her, to forge a bond strong enough to bridge the growing chasm that threatened to swallow Annabel whole.
"Please, tell me what I can do to help," Lenore pleaded, her heart racing as she searched Annabel’s eyes for signs of recognition, for a glimmer of the fierce spirit she had always known. Within the depths of those dusty pink irises, Lenore could glimpse the reluctance to succumb to despair, the unyielding will power shining through the fog of uncertainty.
"I have to take you back," Lenore said suddenly, her voice still comforting but now imbued with an unwavering determination. The dark-haired woman held Annabel closer, cradling her lifeless body in her arms as if she could somehow impart warmth back into her. Everything around them felt suspended in time, the weight of the world pressing against them both. "Lenore...I can't live on..." Annabel's words were barely a whisper, her breathing barely perceptible, each inhalation seeming more labored than the last.
"Yes, you can, I got you," Lenore replied, her gaze steady and unyielding. She turned to look at the imposing building ahead, the school now shrouded in an eerie stillness. The heavy doors loomed in front of them, likely bolted shut, an impenetrable barrier that could keep their hopes from escaping. "Just hang onto me as much as you can. Got it?" Lenore said gently, trying to encourage some spark of life back into Annabel, who responded with a meek nod. It was a fragile gesture, but it was all Lenore needed to keep fighting.
With a surge of adrenaline, Lenore adjusted her grip, feeling the weight of Annabel's still form in her arms. She took a deep breath, mentally steeling herself for what lay ahead.
"Stay with me, Annabel," Lenore urged, her voice a soothing balm against the encroaching silence. They were in this together, and Lenore's heart beat with the fierce resolve that she would not let her lover slip away into the void. She began to move toward the doors, each step a calculated risk, driven by the desperation to find help. Each step felt like a silent plea to the universe, a commitment to preserving the fragile thread of life that hung by a thread.
As she reached the doors, Lenore pressed her shoulder against the cool surface, testing its strength. "Come on, we can do this," she whispered, focusing her energy on the challenge before them. With a determined push, she attempted to shove the door open, an action filled with all the hopes and dreams she wished to restore. Regardless of the obstacles before her, Lenore resolved to fight for Annabel until the very end.
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Within the arboretum, students were starting to see the sun rising after the tragic hours of the night. In the dim light, many students were engaging in hushed prayers, expressing gratitude to their gods for surviving the ordeal. There was an air of melancholy mixed with relief as they began to come to terms with the night's events. Prospero, his brow furrowed with concern, trailed over to Monty and his supposed "peers," who appeared indifferent to the anxiety permeating the atmosphere. The brown-haired man paced restlessly, his eyes searching for the blonde girl, only to find her conspicuously absent.
With a sigh of resignation, Prospero approached the shaggy man sitting beside Ada's unconscious body. "Where's Annabel?" he asked, his voice firm as he scrutinized Monty's careless attitude. "Wandered off," Monty replied nonchalantly, as if the absence of their leader was a trivial matter, one that scarcely merited concern. Prospero's frustration was palpable as he surveyed the surroundings once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl who had somehow slipped away. "To where?" he probed, his impatience beginning to show. Monty merely shrugged in response, his nonchalance infuriating. "Dunno, ain't her keeper," he retorted, further dismissing Prospero's concern.
As he took in Monty's lack of accountability, Prospero's thoughts churned with frustration. "Of course you didn't, but couldn’t you have at least thought to keep an eye on her?" he said sharply, feeling the tension in his gut tighten. Monty merely pointed to his broken leg, which was wrapped in bandages that Ms. Dolly had provided earlier. The injury had him sidelined, but that could not excuse his disregard for the group’s well-being, especially in such uncertain circumstances.
“Well fine, I’ll have to do it by myself then,” Prospero declared, irked by the entire exchange. He turned sharply, already devising a plan to search for Annabel. He could barely hear Monty murmur something under his breath, but he chose to ignore it, knowing that his priority was to find Annabel. The air thickened with the need for resolve, and Prospero knew he couldn't waste any more time. Armed with determination, he began to navigate the arboretum, each step fueled by a mix of worry and hope that he would soon locate her and bring her back safely to the group.
Meanwhile, the misfits were peering through the curtains of the domes in the garden room, their eyes straining to catch a glimpse of sunlight filtering through the vibrant greenery. The air was thick with anticipation and worry. "Perhaps Lenore will be here soon," Eulalie said softly, her voice laced with sorrow as she leaned against Berenice's shoulder for support. Berenice, trying to mask her concern with a lighthearted tone, replied, "Sure, biscuit, whatever you say," though her eyes betrayed the same unease that was felt in the room.
The atmosphere was mostly quiet, with the occasional rustles of the leaves and whispered conversations. However, the silence was punctuated by Duke's frantic search for Lenore, his pacing reflecting the chaos churning inside him. He moved from one corner of the room to the next, a shadow of nervous energy personifying his concern. Meanwhile, Morella sat by a tree, tears streaming down her cheeks, mourning what felt like a collective loss among the group. The emotional landscape was heavy with worry, each misfit dealing with their own turmoil as they waited for Lenore to return.
As Duke approached the archway leading out of the garden room, he felt a mix of dread and hope. His heart raced as he searched for Lenore, determined not to be idle while she was out there alone. Just as he was about to despair, his eyes went wide with disbelief. "Mais non..." he muttered, the words escaping his lips like a prayer. In that moment, Lenore burst into the arboretum, her arms enveloping another figure who appeared just as unexpected. It was Annabel Lee, her presence illuminating the room and raising the tension that had settled among everyone.
"WHERE'S MS. DOLLY?" Lenore exclaimed, urgency driving her feet as she rushed toward the tree, her arms cradling the frail, withering form of the blonde girl against its sturdy bark. The gathering crowd around them began to swell, an assortment of expressions ranging from sheer panic to sheer confusion etched across their faces. Lenore's eyes swiftly darted from one person to another, her concern for Annabel overshadowed by the growing annoyance at her friends’ distractions as she rose from her position beside the almost lifeless figure. "I said, where is Ms. Dolly?" Lenore insisted, her voice rising above the murmurs, determined to be heard despite the chaos surrounding her.
"Mon ami, is that—" Duke began to interject, but Lenore cut him off, her focus unwavering. "I know what we discussed last time. I just need to help her...please," she implored, her arms gesturing emphatically toward Annabel's deteriorating condition. In that moment, Lenore was acutely aware of how her actions might be perceived; it seemed strange to everyone else that she showed such care for someone whom she had previously considered an enemy. Nevertheless, the bond of shared humanity overpowered any lingering sentiments of rivalry. What mattered most was that she needed assistance—she needed someone to help Annabel lee.
"Oh my!" A voice broke through the air, filled with genuine concern. Lenore turned, her gaze falling on Ms. Poppet, whose appearance shifted the dynamics of the scene entirely. "What on earth happened to you, Annabel Lee?" Ms. Poppet exclaimed, immediately brushing past Lenore to kneel beside Annabel's frail body sprawled against the tree.
"You have to help, Ms. Poppet. Please, Annabel's...withering," Lenore repeated, desperation creeping into her tone as she returned to Annabel's side, wrapping her blood-stained arms around the blonde girl in a protective embrace. The warm flow of crimson seemed to ignite a sense of urgency in the onlookers, who began to murmur among themselves, sharing worried glances.
Ms. Poppet's skilled hands hovered over Annabel, assessing the situation with a practiced eye. As she began to work, the atmosphere shifted, tension replaced slowly by a flicker of hope. Lenore remained steadfast by Annabel's side, her heart pounding in sync with the escalating possibilities of what could happen next. It was a moment suspended in time, where a fragile life hung in the balance, and Lenore understood that every second counted.
Mrs. Poppet gasped, tilting her head as if trying to grasp the reality of the situation before her. "Surely, I'll get Ms. Dolly," she exclaimed, and in the blink of an eye, the teacher poofed away, disappearing with an air of surprise that only added to the bewildering scene. How ironic, Lenore thought, that Ms. Poppet didn’t seem concerned in the least about her well-being or if she was injured; perhaps being the star student had its perks — a level of detachment from the worries of others. But right now, those thoughts didn’t matter to Lenore. Her focus was on Annabel.
"Your spectre..."
"You manifested?"
Many questions emerged from everyone, but with one that striked Lenore the most.
"Where was she?" came a concerned voice from the gathering crowd, breaking into her racing thoughts. It was Prospero, his eyes widening as he registered the precarious state of Annabel. Lenore sighed heavily, turning her gaze to Annabel’s pale, almost deathlike features. The urgency of their trip to the garden weighed heavily on her mind, compounded by her frantic pace while Annabel lay asleep, seemingly lost to the world. With a gentle motion, Lenore pressed her hand against Annabel’s back, seeking the reassurance of life beneath her touch, feeling the soft rise and fall of her breath, slow yet steady.
"She was... fighting the stag itself," Lenore replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She knew she had to provide some context, but she deliberately chose to withhold the detail that Annabel had been searching specifically for her. That revelation felt unnecessary; there would be time for the truth later, once things had calmed down.
She could hear gasps ripple through the assembled group. Eulalie’s voice emerged softly from the crowd, murmuring something about "the poor girl." Lenore nodded in silent agreement, her heart swelling with an odd mixture of sympathy and protectiveness. She sat down next to Annabel, positioning herself like a sentinel against the inquisitive eyes and murmurs from her peers.
"As for the manifestation," Lenore continued, her tone faltering as she searched for the right words, "I don't know... I just happened to be there when she was there." The weight of her admission hung in the air, filled with uncertainties. Prospero sighed deeply, his gaze darting back to Annabel, who remained entranced in a sleep that looked both peaceful and haunting.
"At least you were there, I have to give you that," he acknowledged with a hint of resignation in his voice, though Lenore could sense the underlying skepticism that colored his expression. She didn’t blame him; the implications of what had transpired were heavy, and suspicion could easily creep in when faced with the inexplicable.
As the murmurs in the crowd began to die down, Lenore felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. Her mind churned with questions of its own—what exactly did it mean to manifest? And why had Annabel chosen to confront a creature as dangerous as the stag? She glanced down at Annabel, wishing she could project warmth and strength into Annabel’s unconscious form.
The surrounding students began to disperse slightly, maintaining a distance but stealing glances as they tried to piece together the mystery that enveloped this unexpected encounter. Whispers of concern and curiosity danced around them, filling the air with a sense of urgency that felt palpable. Each second stretched into eternity, yet in that moment, all Lenore wanted was to protect her lover, to shield her from the prying eyes and judgment that accompanied moments of weakness.
It was then that Lenore resolved that she would not allow the doubts and suspicions to overshadow the loyalty she felt towards Annabel. She would remain vigilant, guarding against the unknown and the undisclosed truths that lingered like shadows around them. This moment was theirs, a sacred space forged through struggle; nothing, not even the opinions of others, could taint that bond.
Before anyone else could even speak, there was a sudden burst of purple smoke that materialized in front of them. "Don't worry, I have the potion here," Lenore heard Ms. Dolly say with a sense of urgency. The nurse moved past Lenore with a determined stride, getting closer to Annabel, who appeared frail and unresponsive. In her hand, she held a glass bottle filled with a shimmering purple liquid, where bubbles danced and floated to the surface. Its appearance was reminiscent of medication, yet its vibrant hue raised a myriad of questions in Lenore's mind.
Lenore observed Annabel’s pale face and then shifted her attention back to the nurse, confusion and concern etching lines on her forehead. "This doesn't do anything...right?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with trepidation. As Ms. Dolly brought the glass to Annabel’s lips, gently parting them to facilitate the liquid’s entry, Ms. Poppet clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh right! About that! This will simply induce a death-like slumber! Little Ada over there had the potion too," she exclaimed, her tone almost uncomfortably cheerful considering the circumstances. Lenore’s eyes then darted to Ada's unconscious body slumped against the bench, her form shrouded only by Monty’s jacket, which served as a makeshift blanket. The sight of her friend in such a vulnerable state intensified the sense of unease settling in the pit of Lenore's stomach.
Everything felt so unnaturally off; the atmosphere was thick with confusion and anxiety. "Alright, that shall do it," Ms. Dolly stated matter-of-factly as she withdrew from Annabel, a hint of finality in her tone. She turned to join Ms. Poppet, placing the now empty bottle back into her medical bag with swift efficiency. "Since it's dawn, I shall bring both Annabel and Ada into the infirmary," she declared decisively, her words resonating as an order rather than a mere suggestion.
Lenore stood rooted in place, struggling to grasp the gravity of the situation. How could it be that a potion was the solution to their seemingly dire plight? The familiar warmth of the rising sun began to touch the landscape, yet it brought no comfort. Instead, it illuminated the bizarre events unfolding before her. Could this strange purple potion really render them into a state of sleep so profound that it resembled death?
While Ms. Dolly prepared to carry out her plan, Lenore felt an inexplicable urge to intervene, to challenge the decisions of the adults who seemed to harbor an unsettling calm in the face of chaos. "But what if something goes wrong?" she blurted out, wanting to voice the panic that gripped her heart tightly. But the words hung uselessly in the air, dissipated like the purple smoke that had first caught her attention.
Ms. Poppet turned to Lenore, her expression shifting slightly, as if she were momentarily unnerved by the intensity of her gaze. "Dear, you must trust us. We know what we are doing. Sometimes, these things are necessary for the greater good," she replied, though the reassurance in her tone felt hollow, capable of sparking doubt rather than dispelling it.
Lenore immediately stood up from where Annabel had been laid out, her heart racing as she walked toward the pair of workers in front of her. "May I, at least, be there with Annabel?" she asked, her voice carrying an urgency that was uncharacteristic of her usual demeanor. The Misfit's eyes glanced at her, filled with confusion, undoubtedly questioning why Lenore cared so deeply for Annabel, someone who had been their rival for quite some time. However, her mind was too crowded with conflicting thoughts to dwell on the predicament further.
Ms. Poppet's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly shook her head. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as if to soften the blow of her response. "No, sorry. But you may come early in the next morning, perhaps," she suggested, her tone shifting to one that supposedly hinted at a more compassionate stance.
Lenore felt a surge of frustration simmer beneath her breath. It wasn’t the answer she had hoped for, but she understood that the situation was fraught with complications that required careful handling. "Both Ada's and Annabel's blood might be infectious to anyone during their sleep; it’s best to not go," Ms. Dolly stated firmly, her gaze directed at Lenore with an unwavering intensity that made it clear the decision was final.
"Alright..." Lenore replied, her voice faltering slightly. The reality of the circumstances weighed heavily on her, and she felt the urgency to act merging with helplessness.
"Alrighty then! Students," Ms. Poppet pivoted to address the other students, her demeanor changing as she spoke loudly, almost cheerfully, as if to divert attention from the somber atmosphere. "We shall see you later at class at nine; don't be late unless you want demerits!" With that, both Ms. Dolly and Ms. Poppet turned and disappeared, leaving the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension.
Lenore looked back, her gaze drawn to the now empty spot beneath the large tree where Annabel's body had rested moments before. Her heart sank as she realized the finality of the situation; Annabel had been taken into the infirmary. A sense of loss washed over her, coupled with a fierce determination to understand what had transpired. It felt surreal, the fleeting moments of her darling lying there, almost lifeless and vulnerable, contrasting sharply with the bustling life of the students around her, who seemed unaware of the gravity of the situation.
She wrapped her arms around herself, seeking some semblance of comfort as she stood alone, grappling with her emotions. The vibrant chatter of her classmates felt distant, their whispers echoing against the walls of her mind, which was now consumed with worry and uncertainty. Lenore couldn't shake the feeling that something more sinister was at play, that Annabel's condition was just the tip of an iceberg that loomed ominously beneath the surface. In her heart, Lenore felt a flicker of hope mixed with dread, as she took her first steps into the uncertain path ahead.
But for now she had to at least survive one day without Annabel lee there.
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