"Howdy roomie."
There were a few seconds of precious silence after that greeting.
To discover that your loved one's features adorned the face of a monstrous enemy was something that could certainly have shaken the sanity and steadfastness of character of many individuals. Their heads would be filled with doubts. Constant "what ifs?" trying to elucidate what could have driven a version of the person they love to become what was before them. Fear and paranoia causing them to start thinking if the situation could not repeat itself, if it was inevitable that sooner rather than later the one they love the most would end up the same.
In Wednesday Addams it merely contributed to a resolution born of an immediate epiphany.
She didn't give a shit.
It wasn't mere bravado when she said she didn't care who they were. She didn't care at all that The Bright One was an Enid Sinclair. They could have been a Wednesday Addams, a Morticia, a Tyler, a Weems or even that stupid student she castrated with piranhas. The identity of the opponent was not, should not, be a factor in her resolve to put an end to their deeds and rescue the versions of herself that had been abducted.
So no, past the initial momentary shock and revulsion due to the twisted familiarity, that face was not a liability in any way.
(If anything, it would only have served to confirm that her she-wolf was going to look damned good as the decades went by, but now was neither the time nor the place.)
All that reasoning, produced in seconds, was followed by another.
Wednesday didn't give a damn who The Bright One really was, but The Bright One did. Her writer's instincts screamed at her, they were in that situation where the villain would proceed to explain their history and their reasons in a banal attempt at self-justification or an effort to appeal to the sympathy of the listener, in the hope that a tragic backstory could serve as a reasonable basis for committing all sorts of atrocities.
So... trite. So cliché.
But despite her weariness, the young Addams knew she had to listen. And even intervene in the dialogue. For it was also an opportunity to be able to ferret out weak points.
"Sinclair," she said. And it pleased her to see a fleeting frown on The Bright One's uncovered face.
"Oh, Weds, no need for formalities," the armor-clad figure replied, "Want something to eat? I can get you to at least move your arms and conjure up some food, but you'd have to use just your hands. You'll understand that I don't leave cutlery or anything sharp within reach."
Wednesday just looked at her, expressionless. The Bright One sighed.
"And back to the silent treatment! Not even a murderous look, just that indifference born of utter contempt. It's…"
The Bright One smiled. Her smile was faint, sad. But Wednesday could see there was no sadness in her eyes. There wasn't even any real emotion, just an empty, dead darkness held in place by an obsessive resolve.
"You look almost as beautiful as she did the day I lost her," she said, followed by a short, dry laugh, "Almost. Always almost."
She clapped her hands together, moving along the table until she was seated at the opposite end facing Wednesday, "Well, you can go on with your silence, but I bet you're dying to know...well, about all this," she said, as she gestured vaguely with one of her hands at the surroundings around her.
Wednesday pinned her gaze on her, "Why?"
"Why what?”
"Why this privilege, why not send me to the cells?"
The Bright One stared at her for a few moments, thoughtfully, before shrugging, "Curiosity, more than anything... Do you know how many Wednesday Addams I've had to deal with already?"
Wednesday didn't answer.
"Me neither!" replied The Bright One, "There have been so many already that I've lost count... And there's been everything. Women, men, and those who wouldn't let themselves be limited by such labels. Adults and children. Humans and non-humans. But all Wednesday Addams. And many of them formidable, fighting to the end."
The Bright One leaned forward, resting her shoulders on the table and clasping her hands in front of her face, "But none, absolutely none have done what you've done. I have never seen any Wednesday who would consider fighting back as you and your companions have done, breaking down the barriers between realities to get my attention. You will understand that it piqued my interest and I wanted to see you up close. You are... you may be the closest to her."
"Your Wednesday."
"Mine," said The Bright One, "All of this...all of this is for her."
The armored figure stood up again, "From what I've sighted of your reality... we're a lot alike. So I won't bore you with too many details. Nevermore, Tyler, Miss Thornhill and that monster Crackstone. But things in my reality took other turns."
Wednesday was beginning to get a pretty good idea of what might have happened. The Bright One's behavior denoted a kind of obsession that tended to be rooted in very specific events.
"When I met my Weds... Oh, her presence changed everything at Nevermore. For me suddenly everything had color. As soon as I saw her, I knew it immediately. That there was an indissoluble bond between us. It was love at first sight…"
Wednesday resisted the urge to emit a disbelieving snort. However many similarities there were, The Bright One had just manifested a substantial difference between their realities.
Wednesday and Enid's relationship was not love at first sight. Not by a long shot.
Not even, if they were honest with themselves, could they speak of anything resembling friendship in those early days at Nevermore. Their first night in their shared room was marked by Wednesday threatening Enid with smothering her with the pillow, and the Addams seeing up close colorful, sharp claws that might have cut her to shreds had their then-owner been less reluctant to spill blood.
There was really no bond between them until that fateful night when Enid confessed her fears and insecurities about the future due to her late bloomer status and Wednesday responded by showing vulnerability to someone outside her family for the first time by telling the werewolf what had happened to Nero.
That was the beginning of a tentative friendship that with time and its ups and downs would grow into something deeper even before either of them realized it.
Not that Wednesday didn't believe in love at first sight. She had empirical proof of it at home, after all. Gomez and Morticia's love had been like a flash of lightning, an electric discharge that ignited a fire that would burn forever between the two of them. But in contrast, the love between Wednesday and Enid had been like a shy plant that had needed care and had gone through multiple adversities before growing. That in just two years that sprout was now like a giant, indestructible sequoia spoke loudly of the strength of their love for each other.
But it had not been love at first sight. Her resolve that any resemblance between their experiences and those of The Bright One should be taken with a grain of salt had been reinforced.
Meanwhile, the fiend in armor kept talking.
"But even our love was not enough. Nevermore burned, many died, and though my Weds was able to slay the monster responsible, Crackstone incinerated her at the very instant his heart was pierced by her dagger. And I could do nothing but watch, unable to help her, weighed down by my weakness."
The Bright One clenched her fists, turning her back on Wednesday.
"I promised myself at the time that I would bring her back," she said, followed by a broken laugh, "Her family didn't believe me when I proclaimed it. Can you believe it? They even acted as if they didn't know me, as if my Weds never told them about me. The only one who bothered to give me any of her time was Eudora Addams and it was to talk me out of it. That it wasn't a good idea to bring back the dead, that it wasn't a task to which I should devote myself... Bah! Hadn't Crackstone returned? If there was one method there might well be others."
Wednesday felt an uncomfortable knot in her stomach. She couldn't resist making an observation, "You weren't a witch, were you?"
The Bright One turned around and shook her head in the negative, smiling, "I studied hard. Those were rough years, with ties to my family broken. And in the end I could only deduce that the only way to bring you... to bring her back could only be done with magic. And for those of us not born with the gift, magic is like an insatiable animal."
"Blood magic," Wednesday said. If there were parallels between this Enid and anyone in her reality they seemed to be with Isadora Laslow or Laurel Gates.
"Oh, no, nothing so narrow. I mean, blood sacrifices are potent but they don't last forever. But sacrificing something inherently magical... that was more viable. You see, Wednesday, I'm a magic user now, but I'm no longer a lycanthrope."
Wednesday's eyes widened. If this Enid had done what she thought she'd done…
"Ha ha, yes! I see by your expression that you've figured it out, I sacrificed the spirit of the wolf sleeping in my soul! That stupid, lazy beast never bothered to make an appearance in my entire life causing me only misfortune and rejection. And it didn't even move a paw on the night I needed it most. So I gave it up without any problem, and at the end of the ritual I could feel the magic flooding my whole being. But it still wasn't enough…"
"You sacrificed a primordial spirit, a part of your own soul by being a lycanthrope by birth," Wednesday said. The dark arts may never have been her main object of interest, but she had studied the theory well, and the consequences of what she had just heard…
"Yes, and as I said it wasn't enough," The Bright One continued, "That ritual gave me great power but it turned me into a magic sponge. It was like an addiction that sent me into a frenzy. Every source of magic I could find, I consumed. Witches and warlocks, psychics, seers, objects and relics... the very natural magic of the Earth. Many tried to stop me. Years and years of constant fighting. Eudora Addams herself put up a fight but from her I took much of my raw power, something I needed to recover from the wounds she inflicted on me."
"Well deserved wounds," Wednesday growled.
"Maybe, maybe," replied The Bright One, "It was during that time that I met Tyler again. There was a coalition of outcasts and other magical creatures joining together to stop me. I think it was his crude attempt at redemption. I took the essence of the Hyde in him and that was...oh, it was quite a surprise, Weds. I found myself with a shadow spirit that went on to fill the gap left by my wolf. Obedient and loyal, my new vermin were born from the shadows of my soul and became my perfect instruments. My own legion of servants! The first one I created I used to devour a Tyler turned human, I think you would have liked the spectacle."
She couldn't deny it, the idea of Tyler being devoured by a replica of his own monstrous self was something damned appealing, but Wednesday would never agree out loud to the madwoman before her.
"Your Shadow Hydes..." she began.
"Seriously, you don't need to call them that. Vermin is more than enough."
"Your... vermin. I gather their abilities come directly from you. Their capacity to avoid harm, their teleportation between realities…"
"All of it comes from my personal essence. Many years of practice, but developing that technique of defense was very useful, no doubt. I'm not invulnerable, but maybe the closest thing to it," said The Bright One. But despite her boasting, Wednesday could see how the woman involuntarily drew a hand toward the spot between her neck and shoulder where Agent A's daggers had been thrust.
And Enid and Taylor had managed to break through that magical defense as if it didn't exist. Wednesday had a couple of theories about it, but she didn't think it wise to exchange notes with The Bright One about it at the time. The figure in armor continued her tale.
"Things went on like that for... mmm, a couple of centuries, maybe. I lost count of that, too."
So she's also much older than she looks, Wednesday thought, Though I shouldn't be surprised, it's a common occurrence with magic users.
"All that time I kept studying how to bring my Wednesday back. The problem was that she didn't have a body, as Crackstone had reduced her to ashes and most existing resurrection rituals require the subject's body. But then it came to me, the inspiration, and it was thanks to you. Well, thanks to my Wednesday."
Wednesday merely raised a questioning eyebrow. The Bright One opened her arms wide with a smile.
"Frankenstein!" she exclaimed.
Oh. Oh no, that wasn't... No, that wasn't good at all.
"Are you... Are you kidnapping the Wednesdays from different realities to build a body?"
"Pfff, Weds, please," The Bright One snorted, "I mean... yeah. But the way you say it makes it sound like you think I'm dismembering you guys into parts and then sewing the pieces of corpses together into a puzzle of human flesh."
Wednesday just stared at her, incredulous.
"Come on... it's not that crude. You see, my Wednesday... she was perfect. And she needs a perfect body. And to that end, after decades of preparation and research, I have devised a foolproof method," The Bright One explained. The woman turned again and made a gesture with her right hand, as if drawing a filigree in the air. Instantly, the white wall in front of her became transparent and Wednesday could see on the other side a nightmarish landscape, barren and with floating rocks above a multicolored firmament, and a huge pyramidal construction that seemed to be made of metal cylinders in an upright position, crowned by a huge crystal sphere covered with runes and alchemical circles.
"My work has three phases. In the first, the Wednesdays are held in the cells down there," The Bright One explained, pointing to what looked like a circular cement building around the pyramid. Despite the distance it could be seen that the dimensions of both constructions were obscenely huge, reaching for miles.
"In their cells, the Wednesdays are kept alive and nourished with pure ambient magic. This purifies them and recharges their souls. The more raw power a Wednesday has the longer the stay should be. I think the record is about a year and a half. Well, after that purification in the first phase you move on to the second phase."
"Amazing observation of the obvious," said Wednesday.
The Bright One continued speaking, ignoring the taunt, "Once purified, the Wednesdays are moved to those cylinders you see in that pyramid. Oh, I chose a pyramid because it's a perfect shape to conduct energy that... Ah, but I'm sure you already know that. Anyway, in those cylinders the second phase, the processing, takes place. The Wednesdays are released from their physical forms, leaving only their pure spiritual essence."
"Are you ripping the souls out of their bodies?" asked Wednesday indignantly, hoping that this hid the fear that something like this could have already happened to Friday.
"Oh, gosh, no," replied The Bright One, "That would damage the essence of their souls. No, I just dissolve their bodies in such a way that the only thing left in those containers is the untainted soul."
That didn't improve the situation. At all.
"It's not a foolproof process, unfortunately. It depends on each Wednesday, really, and some Wednesdays are less Wednesday than others. Their minds break before the process is finished and the soul is scarred and unusable. Some die immediately after that, and others...well, my vermin take care of the leftovers."
Wednesday Addams had never had a problem embracing the macabre and the dark, but even she distinguished between the "good terrible" and the "bad terrible," and that the monstrosity of some acts, whether justified or not, should never be taken with the almost casual levity with which The Bright One described her most repugnant actions.
Totally oblivious to her guest's thoughts, The Bright One continued to explain her plan, "Eventually, when the time comes, all of these accumulated essences will be moved to the upper sphere. They will be mixed with the other components already arranged and the alchemical circles will be activated to transmute all those pure essences again, combined into a new fleshly form. A new body. At the same time, I will perform the invocation that will bring the spirit of my beloved into this reality."
The Bright One turned, smiling at Wednesday with an almost maniacal grin that hinted at a row of sharp teeth more akin to those of a Hyde than the lycanthrope she had been in the past.
"Do you understand now Weds? That body will be like a beacon for her soul. A perfect body for the soul of the perfect Wednesday! My Wednesday! And so I'll have her back at last after centuries of waiting!
The Bright One began to laugh after her proclamation, turning again to gaze triumphantly at her freakish handiwork. Wednesday could only watch in utter bewilderment and with only one clear thought clamoring in her mind.
She's absolutely insane, both her and her plan. And not in a way that's funny, there's no arguing with that, she thought.
Yes, she's totally cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.
Wednesday tensed. That voice had just sounded in her head. Now, it wasn't the first time she'd heard voices in her head other than her own or other variations of hers, but this wasn't one of the usual ones.
Well, I hope not. I'm just passing through after temporarily latching on to your soul. I thought you could use an extra hand.
No, it wasn't one of the usual voices, but Wednesday recognized it. It hadn't been that long since she'd last heard it.
Agent A?
The one and only, variant of mine.
NOTES
Another chapter longer than usual, but this one demanded it. This is basically "Exposition: The Chapter".
I hope that in broad strokes you understand where The Bright One is coming from and her plan, although I have still left some things vague and ambiguous or open to different interpretations. I can tell you that there are no lies in her story, but there are omissions, half-truths and truths that are only true for her and her biased view of things. Everything she has told, take it with a grain of salt.
Things I can tell you: the planetoid where her citadel and pyramid are located is all that remains of her Earth, moved to a space between dimensions that she controls. With that in mind, you can get an idea of how things ended up in her reality and her personal war with the rest of the magic users.
Oh, and it looks like someone isn't quite gone yet.
Edit: I almost forgot... Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! 🎄
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