Shadows Awakened by Endless Yearning
Author's note: Here you have the second chapter! And a long one-
As you can see, there have already been some developments in the story’s plot, but the best is yet to come. There’s still so much left to uncover, and this is only the beginning of something much darker. Every balance can be shattered in the blink of an eye. It’s only a matter of time.
I hope you enjoy it! I’ll try to be back as soon as possible with the next one. Until then… sending you a big hug <3 And take care!
꧁ Read on ao3 ꧂
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Chapter 2
“Morticia…”.
She couldn’t believe it. Was she dreaming? Could it really be possible that this woman—her former roommate from years ago, when she studied in this very place—the one with infinite calm, enigmatic, cryptic words, morbid elegance, and spellbinding eyes, dark enough to pull gravity toward them, was standing right before her, years later—like a ghost that never really left— in the same place?
“Larissa...”.
Her heart stirred as her name passed from those crimson lips, uttered in that languid, dreamlike voice that instantly pulled her mind back to that exact moment.
“What a most... unexpected surprise. It has been far too long.”
“Too long,” Larissa thought, then tried to steady the tremor in her voice. “I never thought I’d see you again… especially not here.”
Morticia watched her for what felt like an eternity. She tilted her head ever so slightly to one side, the corner of her lips curving into a faint smile, while her dark eyes fixed on her with the quiet certainty of someone who could see through flesh, memory, and soul alike— suggesting a thousand thoughts that would never dare turn into words.
She wore a long black dress that clung to the curves of her body, its neckline modest but suggestive, the hem trailing softly across the floor. Her jet-black hair fell straight and loose down her back—exactly as she remembered it.
“It’s been a long time, my dear… I must admit, I expected to see a few old ghosts from the past… some familiar faces. But not even in a thousand visions would I have imagined finding you here again. Fate is a rather capricious host,” she murmured at last, her calm enough to freeze the air.
“It always knows when to open the door… even for ghosts.”
Larissa didn’t know whether to laugh or shiver at those words. There was something in Morticia’s voice—that soft, dark echo—that made her feel as though she were standing at the edge of a spell.
“And yet,” she murmured, watching her with an attention she rarely bestowed on anyone, “some ghosts never truly leave.”
Morticia tilted her head slightly, her eyes reflecting a shadow of melancholy.
“Some cannot,” she replied. “ Others… simply choose not to.”
There was no doubt—the woman standing before her was Morticia. Time might have traced its pale fingers across the years, yet the only thing it had granted her was a deeper, more graceful maturity. Her words, still veiled in irony and laced with mystery, remained the very essence of her being.
“Who would’ve thought? I honestly believed I’d only see you again if your daughter ever decided to… hold a séance and invite a few unwanted guests.”
“Of course… Wednesday Addams. Now I understand why that surname sounded familiar.”
Morticia turned her gaze to the other woman standing beside Larissa, a faint smile touching her lips.
“That’s right. She’s my daughter. I hope she hasn’t caused too much trouble during this first month of classes, Ms.—”
“Ravencroft. Zeline Ravencroft. Vice Principal of this academy. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Addams.”
Morticia nodded with a gentle smile.
“As for your daughter, she hasn’t committed any of her usual extravagant mischiefs yet. But, coming from you—and after everything that’s happened since she arrived—I doubt it will be long before I hear something about her. She is, without question, her mother’s daughter,” Larissa said, her elbows resting on the table, fingers interlaced beneath her chin as she offered Morticia a slight smile, one eyebrow gracefully raised. In that moment, memories surfaced— scenes from her student days, when Morticia herself would occasionally find her way into similar kinds of trouble.
Ever since Wednesday had joined the Nevermore family, only disasters worthy of sleepless tales had unfolded—with that Hyde roaming around killing people and that normie who controlled him, the same one she had so foolishly hired in the past for the normie inclusion program in the outcast world. All thanks to Wednesday, of course, who had exposed that fraud.
Now that she had been given a second chance—having survived the attempted murder by that cursed Marilyn Thornhill (or rather, Laurel Gates)— she had no intention of making the same mistake again. She would find other ways to help normies and outcasts coexist in harmony. It wouldn’t be fair to judge all normies—or throw them into the same basket—because of one person who had brought chaos to the academy.
The sound of Morticia’s faint, inner laugh pulled her back from the past, sending Larissa’s heart into a flutter.
“What can I say… ordinary is hardly a family trait of ours. Besides, we do enjoy keeping in touch with old acquaintances from the other side. I don’t believe that’s a crime… yet.”
“It isn’t, as long as those guests from the beyond don’t try to take students or teachers as offerings, curse them for life, or even… kill them.”
Morticia’s smile grew clearer, touched with a hint of mischief, and her gaze made it perfectly evident that she knew exactly what her little one was capable of.
“No one can blame the dead for wanting to have a little fun…” she said, then sighed softly. “I can’t wait to see my little bat. But first… I believe there’s an unfinished matter to attend to.”
“Indeed,” Zeline replied. “I see you’ve requested an interview for the vacant botany teacher position this year.”
“That’s right. I heard you were somewhat pressed to find a replacement for the role. And I thought… a change of scenery wouldn’t hurt. I’d call it… fate.”
Zeline glanced at Larissa for a moment, noticing how intently she was looking at Morticia—a look she had rarely, if ever, seen before.
Larissa didn’t return her gaze. She remained silent for a few more seconds, eyes fixed on Morticia, before finally breaking it.
“Of course. You have every right to attend the interview, just like the other candidates. Please, come in and take a seat,” she told Morticia, gesturing toward the chair directly across from her desk.
Morticia nodded and walked toward the chair with her usual unhurried grace. But just before she sat down, Larissa shuddered. Her face turned pale, frozen in shock. Both Zeline and Morticia noticed it instantly.
“Ms. Weems? What—?”
Zeline didn’t even get the chance to finish her question. Suddenly, Larissa rose from her seat and walked briskly toward the adjoining room of her office, closing both doors behind her.
The two women stared at the doors for a few seconds before looking at each other, a flicker of concern reflected on their faces.
“Did I… say something I shouldn’t have?”
“I don’t think so. Would you excuse me for a moment, Mrs. Addams?”
“Of course. I’ll wait right here,” she replied, choosing to remain standing. Her gaze, though skillfully composed, could not quite hide the concern behind her eyes.
Zeline nodded and turned around, making her way toward the double doors that led to the adjoining room where Larissa was. She knocked twice, her tone formal and composed. She always behaved that way when handling delicate matters in front of outsiders.
“Ms. Weems, it’s Zeline. May I come in?”
There was no immediate response. She pressed her ear against one of the doors. All she could hear was a faint gasp and the sound of movement. Her concern deepened, and though it wasn’t entirely proper, she chose to set formality aside and entered without waiting for permission.
“Principal Weems, I’m coming in,” she said before wasting another second, stepping inside and quickly closing the door behind her. It was Larissa’s private room, and Zeline knew she disliked anyone entering—or snooping around—without her explicit invitation.
But what she saw upon entering took her completely by surprise.
Larissa Weems—a strong, unyielding woman, brave and not easily frightened—now had fear written across her face. One hand was pressed against the wall for support, while the other covered part of her mouth and nose. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and she trembled— trembled as if her worst nightmare had just taken form before her.
“L–Larissa!? What hap—!?” she tried to ask as she moved closer, before Larissa abruptly cut her off.
“Don’t come any closer!,” said as she took a step back.
Zeline froze in place.
“Why? Tell me, what’s wrong?”
“Please… leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me—”
“Out!”
And then she understood. At last, she realized what was happening to Larissa.
When she shouted at her, she had lifted her gaze from the floor—and Zeline saw it. Those blue eyes, as bright as the sky itself. But in one of them, the angelic paradise was gone. In its place burned hell— a crimson eye glowing like the fire of the inferno.
But in the end, they were still her eyes—eyes that reflected pure fear and terror. The same eyes a child has when waking from a nightmare.
“It can’t be…”
“Why!? Why is this happening to me now!? Ngh—!”
Larissa pressed her free hand against her stomach, while the other moved to her forehead, taking an unsteady step back from Zeline in the process.
“You’re… losing control? I don’t understand… but… you had it—”
“Under control! I know! O–or at least I thought I did! But…! Kngh—!” She bent over again, clutching her stomach. “T–That scent… Zeline… that smell… it’s… it’s too strong… too intense… so… delicious…”
As she spoke, her expression began to change—her features twisting with something between hunger and madness. A feverish gleam lit up her eyes, and a faint, wicked smile curved her trembling lips, the kind that belonged to someone standing on the very edge of losing control.
“Larissa, take a deep breath. You have to try to control it.”
“Zeline, Morticia has awakened my thirst… I–I need to… feed… if I don’t… I won’t be able to c–control myself…”
Zeline looked at her for a moment. Seeing her like this—so frightened, so desperate—tore at her soul. She had never been able to bear watching her suffer. In any way.
“Use me.”
Larissa lifted her gaze again, staring at her in shock.
“Don’t look at me like that. You know this isn’t the first time. Use me. Feed on me. You know I’m your only option right now. If you don’t, you’ll lose control. And you know that would unleash chaos… it would be your end.”
Larissa kept looking at her, this time with deep concern. It was true—she was desperate. This wasn’t the first time Zeline had done her this favor, yet she hated asking for it. She didn’t want to make her feel like she could be used at will, like something disposable. She was her friend, and Larissa felt she didn’t deserve her help in such a way.
“Larissa. That woman is out there waiting, wondering what’s happened to you. If you don’t decide soon, you’ll draw suspicion—and lose control of yourself. Don’t think about it. Don’t worry, you know I have my ways to keep your bite from affecting me.”
Without another word, Zeline tilted her head, exposing the side of her neck she always used to leave bare.
And so she did. Larissa stopped thinking. In the blink of an eye, she was standing before Zeline, her lips brushing against her exposed neck. One of Larissa’s hands rested on the opposite side of Zeline’s neck, the other on the small of her back. Zeline could feel Larissa’s uneven breathing, and how her fangs took shape within seconds. Without warning, a sharp pain pierced her neck. Larissa’s fangs sank in, sucking, drinking her blood to appease her sudden thirst. Her tongue, insatiable, savored every drop— as if she hadn’t drunk in days. Zeline closed her eyes. It wasn’t the first time, yet it was still unpleasant, and a little painful. But she had long since learned to live with pain—to welcome it like an old friend.
She could feel Larissa’s hands gripping her tightly, leaving her no chance to escape that hold. Every so often, a low grunt escaped Larissa’s lips.
Still, she let her take as much as she needed—to quench her thirst completely. It was that or risk her losing control, endangering herself... or others. Especially that woman, Morticia, the one who had awakened that hunger in her. If Larissa had lost control with her, she wouldn’t just have drained the dark-haired woman—she would have gotten herself into serious trouble, the kind she might never get out of.
Moments later, Larissa finished sating her hunger. She gave one final lick over the twin marks her fangs had left, then released her at last. A trickle of blood slid from the corner of her lips down to her chin. Her fangs slowly receded, returning to their normal state, and the eye that had once glowed the color of blood had turned back to that pure, angelic shade of sky blue.
Larissa was panting as she looked at her, worry in her eyes.
“How are you feeling, Zeline...?” she asked, moving closer again, lifting her hand to her cheek and caressing it gently—a striking contrast to how she had held her just moments before.
Zeline touched the tender spot, feeling the dampness there—her own blood mixed with Larissa’s saliva.
“I’m fine. You should wipe the blood off your chin and go. You can’t stay any longer. Try to come up with an excuse.”
“But... what about you? I don’t want—”
“Give me a few minutes. You know how this goes,” she cut her off, her voice weakening as the dizziness began to take hold—the bite's effect settling in like a slow, relentless wave. She had to move quickly before it overtook her.
Larissa lingered for a few seconds, her gaze torn between worry and restraint, then gave a silent nod and turned toward the door.
“Larissa.”
Before turning the doorknob, Larissa froze mid-movement and slightly turned her head in her direction.
“We need to talk about this later.”
“I know. Let me deal with Morticia first. Then we’ll talk calmly—with no witnesses around. But for now, take from my dresser —”
“I know where the remedy is. Go, don’t worry,” she replied with a faint, reassuring smile, gripping the table beside her to steady herself from the dizziness.
Larissa nodded.
She looked at the door once more, opened it, and stepped out of the room to meet Morticia on the other side.
And Zeline stayed in the room. Quickly, yet with steady steps, she went to Larissa’s dresser and opened the bottom drawer, where a small secret compartment hid the antidotes for emergencies like this one. But there was only one left. So she took it, then pulled a small handkerchief from her own pocket to stem the bleeding. Sitting on the edge of Larissa’s bed, she injected the antidote into her arm and waited for it to take effect while pressing the wound. Little by little, her body began to return to normal, the dizziness fading slowly.
I’ll have to create more antidotes and restock them, she thought. Something tells me that just as this wasn't the first time, it won't be the last, either.
She took a deep breath. While waiting to recover completely, she couldn’t stop replaying what had happened in her head.
How was it possible that after all this time, Larissa had lost control like that again? Wasn’t she supposed to have it under control by now? And above all... why that woman?
Many questions arose out of nowhere—questions that needed answers. And the sooner, the better. For everyone’s sake. But above all, for Larissa’s. After all, Zeline would do whatever it took to protect her. She would give everything for her well-being and happiness. Everything. And to do that, she needed to know what had happened—every single detail.
And that also meant offering herself to her in cases like this—when Larissa’s desperate thirst demanded a quick solution. She never hesitated to give her blood to satisfy it. Besides, even if she denied it, these were among the few chances she had to feel Larissa so close—to feel her arms around her, her hot, uneven breath, and her lips against her skin. She hated to admit it, but it was the truth. She longed so deeply to have Larissa near that the mere act of serving her blood on a silver platter was one of the few things that made her heart feel... alive.
But sadly for her, that was the most she would get from Larissa—for now. She had never confessed it. She didn’t even know if Larissa was aware of it at all. She couldn’t tell whether she felt the same or not. And it hurt, yes, but... what else could she do? If she took the risk, she might lose her forever. And that—she could never bear.
She shook her head, freeing herself from her own thoughts. This wasn’t the time to dwell on that. She needed to return to the meeting as soon as possible—especially after Larissa’s confession that the scent of Morticia’s blood had almost driven her mad. She couldn’t trust that her own blood would be enough to satisfy her if that scent was truly as strong as she described. Especially knowing the principal, who would have only taken just enough blood to finish the interview with that woman— and nothing more. Larissa never liked taking more than what she deemed necessary, always careful not to put Zeline’s life at risk.
She couldn’t allow them to be alone any longer. She had to protect that Morticia woman from Larissa... and vice versa.
After making sure she was no longer bleeding, she tried to hide the reddened, tender spot before heading back to the office to rejoin the other two women.
She wiped away the traces of dried blood from the spot with the help of a piece of gauze in the cabinet where a small first-aid kit was kept, dampened it, and cleaned the area before using her own hair to cover it, always using the bathroom mirror to guide her. She hoped that would be enough— that not a single trace of what had happened in there would show. She tossed the gauze into the trash, gave herself one last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order, then carefully left everything in Larissa’s room just as it had been, leaving no trace behind. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the doors, opened them, and stepped back into the office, closing them behind her.
—
“I admit your background is exceptional. It leaves little doubt you haven’t changed after all these years."
“A fine wine only gets better with age. More intense in flavor. I like to think I’m much the same,” Morticia replied, the corner of her lips curling ever so slightly as she regarded Larissa with those eyes, dark as midnight and fathomless, her head tilted lightly to one side.
Larissa looked at her for a moment before lowering her gaze to the papers in her hands. After the sudden bout of thirst, she felt uneasy around Morticia—especially being alone with her. Though it seemed Morticia had not noticed. At first glance, the excuse she had come up with to justify her sudden absence had been enough, since Morticia hadn’t tried to probe any further into the matter.
Her unease soon faded when the doors to her private quarters opened and Zeline’s silhouette appeared, moving with that calm elegance so characteristic of her. Larissa lifted her gaze and smiled at her, relieved to see that she apparently was all right and had returned to be by her side. There was no visible trace of what had happened on the other side of those doors, and her friend seemed as composed as ever. Though once Morticia walked out, the first thing Larissa would do was make sure of it.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted,” Zeline remarked as she closed the doors behind her and returned to her previous spot, standing beside Larissa.
“You haven’t interrupted anything, Ms. Ravencroft. I was just reviewing Mrs. Addams’—”
“Frump, please.”
Both Larissa and Zeline looked up at Morticia, slightly puzzled by the correction.
Frump? Why would she want to use her maiden name? Unless...? Larissa wondered, before being interrupted again by Morticia.
“I’m no longer Mrs. Addams. I’ve gone back to being Ms. Frump. Sorry for the confusion. I’m still... in the process,” she confessed, her gaze steady, though deep within her eyes lingered a faint trace of sadness.
A silence settled over the room. Larissa studied her with quiet concern, her gaze piercing yet restrained. She wouldn’t press for answers—prying felt profane. Instead, she offered only a faint nod and a smile as delicate as spider silk, her eyes brimming with unspoken understanding. Morticia felt the weight lift, her posture easing ever so slightly.
“Very well. We shall address you as Ms. Frump, if that suits you.”
“Perfect. I appreciate it.”
Zeline merely nodded, lost in how the two women regarded each other —as if words were superfluous, conversing in some ancient tongue known only to them, impenetrable to any eavesdropper. As if they’d spent lifetimes entwined, understanding each other with flawless precision. It fascinated her endlessly. She’d already sensed they knew each other from before, given their reactions the moment Morticia crossed the threshold—but clearly, something deeper lingered here, a secret she was certain wouldn’t elude her for long.
“Well then, I believe that’s enough for today. Ms. Frump, we appreciate your journey here for the interview. We’ve seen several candidates this afternoon, and now we must weigh our options to find the ideal fit for the position.”
“I understand.”
“We shall contact you the moment a decision is made, whether you’re selected or not. Does that suit you?”
“That suits me perfectly.”
Larissa smiled faintly. “Then we won’t keep you any longer. Are you staying nearby?”
Zeline glanced at Larissa, surprised and curious. She was the first candidate Larissa had asked.
“Oh, yes, no need to worry. I’m temporarily at a hotel in Jericho.”
“Then I suppose we’ll need a new contact number to reach you.”
“Of course. Do you have something to write with?”
Larissa rummaged across her desk for a scrap of paper to write on, but Zeline was quicker, handing Morticia a small piece of paper and a pen.
“Thank you very much,” Morticia said, taking both with a faint smile toward Zeline. She felt a shiver run through her, though she couldn’t say why.
Morticia wrote down the telephone number of her hotel room with elegant deliberation. "I hope you don't mind—I abhor the shackles those... diminutive devices impose on everyone. Instead, I offer you the hotel room number."
Larissa couldn’t suppress a soft, throaty chuckle, reminiscent of a similar remark she’d once heard from her daughter. She despised technology’s grip. Though the world—and everyone in it—grew ever more modern, neither woman cared to follow the banal tide. They each carved their own shadowed paths, heedless of the whispers.
When she finished writing, she handed the scrap of paper to Larissa, and the pen back to its rightful owner.
"Very well. We'll use this number to reach you in the coming days. Until then, I trust your afternoon will be satisfactory, Ms. Frump".
"Thank you both for receiving me," she said as she rose from her seat. "I wish you the same."
Zeline gave a grateful nod in return.
And so, Morticia made for the exit, parting the door in her wake— though not before halting abruptly for a moment, wheeling around to fix Larissa with a stare.
"Undoubtedly, Nevermore gleams with a gloomier, more shadowy darkness than I remembered. Clearly, it’s in capable hands." Her delicate smile sent Larissa’s heart lurching, prompting a nervous smile in return. Larissa could only nod. The gesture sufficed for Morticia, who at last glided from the office, easing the door shut behind her, the echo of her heels fading down the corridor.
At last, Zeline turned to Larissa, seizing the moment to speak, setting her notepad and pen aside on the desk's edge. She braced her hands against its corner, leaning in slightly, her gaze grave and unyielding—an uncommon look directed at Larissa.
"You’re going to explain a great many things to me, Riss."
Larissa tilted her head back to meet her gaze, her eyes finally betraying a flicker of calm—yet laced with lingering dread.
"I know. And I’ll tell you every single detail."
She laid a hand upon one of Zeline’s. A mere gesture that always unbalanced the woman, sending her heart into a frantic gallop within seconds.
"But perhaps... it would be wiser to speak elsewhere, another time. After the day’s end, meet me here. There, I will unravel it all, thread by thread."
Zeline took a moment before nodding. It wasn’t the right time. Work lingered before the day’s end, and it couldn’t wait.
“Oh, and come unfed —I’ll prepare something myself,” she added with a mischievous lilt, knowing Zeline savored her culinary handiwork, sealing it with a sly wink.
"You're incorrigible, Riss," she replied with a faint smirk. "Always thinking about food." The last part dripped with playful mockery, a deliberate jab to lighten the grim weight of what had unfolded in Larissa's quarters moments before.
"Don't mock me!" Larissa protested, her pout a theatrical curl of disdain.
"Oh, come now—admit it wasn't my worst barb," she smirked, eyes glinting with calculated malice. Larissa sighed in surrender, her spine easing against the chair's backrest, a faint smile betraying her lips.
"Sometimes I truly wonder how I endure you."
"And I'll always remind you, darling—you know you cannot live without me."
