Chapter 38:
Stiles didn't have a real, actionable plan of attack.
He'd sat everyone down and explained the best he could everything he knew from hearsay or personal experience about the World-Eater's abilities and behaviour, but all that truly amounted to was a precautionary lecture.
All they had decided on was who should do what and where. The most important part - what to actually do in regards to the World-Eater - was still up in the air.
It hadn't exactly worked out all that great last time, but Stiles was intending to just play it by ear. Plans never survived contact with the enemy anyway. Fingers crossed they found some useful data in confronting it that would get them all back out of it in one piece.
(Because he lacked the sort of solid grounding of a plan that usually sprang up from involved debates - arguments, really - between some combination of himself, Lydia and Peter, Stiles would have preferred to face things alone. That way he was the only one at dire risk from his own stupidly risky idea to just hope his brain cooked up something decent on the spot before he got himself killed. Everyone had yelled at him when he mentioned it, and the idea had been vetoed.
He appreciated that they cared, but honestly it would have been less stressful.)
oOoOo
Erica and Derek flanked Stiles as they headed into the woods, Allison trailing a few steps behind with her bow.
This was the only part of the 'planning' that really mattered.
Scott and Isaac were at home, Danny was at Lydia's, his dad was at work, and Chris was just supposed to be keeping a general eye on the situation in town while he did whatever it was he did during the day. If anyone noticed anything alarming, they were to contact Allison, who was going to take up a sniping position in the trees as far from the clearing Stiles had chosen as she could whilst maintaining her accuracy and line of sight. Derek and Erica, as the other resident werewolves, had taken it upon themselves to be his immediate back-up.
As far as town went, Stiles wasn't anticipating anything alarming to happen. It was the four of them who were in the danger zone.
When they reached Allison's makeshift sniper's nest Stiles paused and turned to the others.
"Okay team. Remember, we're trying to play this as non-aggressive as possible to hopefully give ourselves some wiggle room."
"If the damn thing even shows up in the first place."
"Don't mock my optimism Erica. Anyway, Allison, remember: don't shoot unless you absolutely have to. It's a dangerous tactic, but we're going for reactionary violence here, not anticipatory. Trying to one-up this guy with a sneak attack isn't worth whatever it might do to retaliate."
"Whatever you think is best," Allison affirmed.
All of the good-natured trust was useful for getting things done without arguments, but Stiles wasn't sure how he felt about people following his orders without question. Still, he supposed there was a time and a place, and getting caught up in anything right now would only derail the plan and their overall morale.
In that case there was really only one thing to say.
"See you on the other side."
oOoOo
It was impossible to know if it had been keeping an eye on the preserve in particular, or if it had simply been in the area, but they didn't have to wait too long before the World-Eater made itself known.
The four of them observed each other in unmoving silence for a moment that seemed to stretch endlessly, nervous tension coiling in Stiles' gut as the seconds ticked by.
Then.
"Moon-blessed, this one remembers you."
Stiles clamped his hands over his ears, a fruitless attempt to block out the horrendous grating tones of the creature's voice as it rattled around inside of his skull. The World-Eater didn't have a mouth in the traditional sense, and as far as Stiles was aware - and evidenced by what was happening right now - could not, or at least chose not to, communicate with the spoken word in the same way as humans did. The noise that constituted a voice drilling straight into his brain was a voice only in that it communicated through sound; there was nothing human about it.
Like nails on a chalkboard, like broken glass, but warped even further. A cacophony that made Stiles want to shred his eardrums even while knowing it wouldn't block out the sound. Instinctively, in his gut, he knew he could only make sense of the sound because the World-Eater wanted him to.
This had not happened last time.
This was new.
Distantly, he felt a hand on his back, a voice near his head.
Erica.
Was he the only recipient of this particular message? How very gracious.
Forcing himself to move his hands away from his ears Stiles opened his eyes (he hadn't noticed himself screwing them shut) and found himself staring at Derek's back.
"It's okay," he croaked, grimacing at the sound. The defensive hunch of Derek's shoulders didn't shift an inch, but Erica squeezed his shoulder, her face pinched at his side.
"What happened?" Derek snarled.
Stiles wasn't sure who he was actually directing the question to, but he took it upon himself to answer. "Just saying hi to an old acquaintance."
Derek glanced back at him over his shoulder, clearly disbelieving.
Stiles waved at his own head, explaining "Telepathy, more or less."
Then he paused. Calling the World-Eater an 'old acquaintance' was a reflexive joke, but it had just said it recognised him. Was that even possible? Did its mind somehow exist outside of linear time? If that was true, wasn't this thing way more dangerous than he thought?!
"What does that mean?" Stiles asked sharply, peering past Derek.
"Stiles?"
He shushed the two of them, clenching his jaw and preparing himself for the sound to invade his head once more.
The World-Eater cocked its, er, approximation of a head. There were no eyes that Stiles could spot, but he felt watched, like it was observing him.
"Merely a truth. Yet it scares you. You remember this one too."
Pushing past the phantom ringing in his ears, Stiles frowned back at it.
"You weren't expecting that?"
"A mistake," it confirmed, aloof and uncaring. (He didn't know if it was capable of any other sort of tone.)
The mistake wasn't sending me back here instead of killing me, Stiles thought to himself, it was coming back here and doing the same thing all over again right in front of me. But those were fighting words, so he locked them in his heart and shifted gears.
"Okay," he said agreeably. "We both remember each other. So, there's no fun in playing this out the same way as before, right?"
"What are you doing?!" Derek hissed, half-turned in reprimand while trying to keep the World-Eater in view.
"Negotiating," Stiles retorted, voice low. He could understand the panic, he got it, okay? He knew he probably sounded like he was taunting the creature, but there was no other way to try and gain information without living a little dangerously.
"Why are you even here?!" Erica demanded over them. She looked mere seconds away from actually stamping a foot in frustration.
A gutsy move, yelling at a mostly unknown entity.
Still, that was indeed the most pertinent question. Plans were difficult to concoct without knowing the opponents motivation or end goal. Stiles had been going for a little more build-up before going for it, but they were all winging it today, and no matter how much or how little respect they showed it any question could be their last. Might as well get straight to it.
Derek and Erica clutched at their heads as the response flooded Stiles' mind; it was talking to all of them now.
"Feasting. One sees no merit in explaining oneself further."
Feasting? What the hell did that mean?
If it was just straight up murdering people then that would make sense; it would be feeding off of their flesh or their spiritual energy or something. But it wasn't. It killed if the situation panned out that way - generally speaking whoever had the misfortune of running into it - but that wasn't the goal. If it was it'd just massacre the whole town and move on.
What the hell did a creature like this even consider food?
Stiles had thought about it a lot, in the beginning. The motive, not the dietary mystery. He'd never come to any sort of conclusion. Now it had been handed to him on a silver platter, but he still didn't have the whole picture.
Inexplicably, Stiles thought of Morgan.
Some problems have surprisingly simple solutions. Isn't that what she had taught him?
So, pushing aside all the fruitless research endeavours, what conclusions could Stiles draw about the World-Eater purely from his own observations?
On both occasions, the creature's presence had been heralded by strange behaviour in the local plant life. Following that trail of thought back then had only led to massive headaches, but now… If he stopped thinking of it as a side effect but instead as a purposeful result of the creature's actions, then did that mean they weren't random fluctuations after all?
Stiles had witnessed in person the World-Eater reducing a tree to ashes in the wind through what he assumed to be the same power. Sped up to the absolute max, maybe, but the same thing. Which meant it wasn't so much a fluctuation as it was cyclical…
And it could manipulate time. In how many directions Stiles had no idea, but speeding it up?
The creature was speeding up the life cycles of the nature in the area. Why?
A 'feast'.
Something about the process provided the World-Eater with energy. But what?
How?
Both important questions in the general sense, but would either answer help right now?
Debatable.
"Shit, what do we do now?" Erica muttered from somewhere beside him.
That's right, he didn't exactly have an unlimited amount of time on his hands to mull this over. Stiles was going to have to go with his gut instinct instead of debating with himself until he'd worked out all the kinks in the theory. He didn't like doing that, but in this case he was pretty much out of options.
If it was consuming life force, potential or otherwise, then there was an angle he could attempt to play. There were many ways it could go wrong even in the event that the World-Eater was perfectly amenable to it, but this was no time to be a worry-wart.
Stiles took a deep breath and steeled himself to commit to the crazy idea his frazzled brain had offered up to him.
"I… have a proposition."
A feeling akin to laughter, but sharp and biting.
"And what does the misplaced moon-child think he can offer?"
God, Stiles couldn't wait for this to all be over so he never had to hear that sound in his head ever again.
"You're looking for life energy, or something along those lines, right? If I offered you a being that had lived a thousand years, with the potential to live many many more, would you leave Beacon Hills?"
Stiles didn't have to look at Derek to know he was making another of his 'what are you doing you idiot' faces. It wasn't like Stiles had given them a detailed play-by-play of his life; this probably sounded like a ridiculously risky bluff to Derek. For Stiles, on the other hand, if this played out well, he could kill two birds with one stone.
When someone was eating, be they human, animal, or strange unfathomable creature, eventually they would reach the point where they were full. The gamble here was trying to guess how much energy the creature was attempting to obtain, and whether or not this would be enough to satisfy them.
If it wasn't?
Well, in that case they'd never had any real chance of defeating or chasing it away in the first place.
"One would have sensed something like that."
Suspicious now. Great. Seemed like everyone thought he was bluffing.
"Yeah, well, it's kind of protected? It's a whole thing. I'll take you there if you want, but only if you agree to leave."
Contemplative silence.
Then:
"You have this one's interest."
"Uh, you have to leave town for at least 100 years," Stiles added in a rush, because there were so so many loopholes in just asking it to leave. "Of chronologically linear time."
The laughter again, like having his brain gently caressed by sharp blades. Stiles didn't care that he was being laughed at, he just wanted to try and guarantee himself some peace and quiet, at least from this particular issue. If it did just come back again in 100 years? At least it would be someone else's problem by then.
"If the offering is impressive enough."
Tch. Not technically a yes but not nearly enough of a no to risk an altercation by kicking up a fuss.
"Fine, okay. It's in the Preserve, but it might be a bit of a walk."
Stiles mentally rolled his eyes at the mild sense of condescension that fell upon him, as if he were casting aspersions on the creature's fitness levels or something equally mundane and ridiculous.
Assuming you knew where the Nemeton was at any given point of time was practically a sure-fire way to ensure that you lost your way. Better to dig into your baser instincts if you were of the supernatural inclination and let the tree's siren song guide you - unless of course the Nemeton didn't want to be found. It may be not much more than a stump these days, but it still possessed enough power to protect itself through misdirection.
With that in mind, Stiles simply picked a direction and hoped for the best.
Erica and Derek followed after him with obvious reluctance, bursting with questions but not willing to voice any of them in case they somehow ruined what they probably assumed to be some con Stiles was trying to pull. As for the World-Eater, Stiles didn't see it move, but he could tell it was around. Actually walking with them like a person must be too plebeian for a being of such immense and confusing power - not that Stiles was about to complain. Any extra distance was good in his books.
As they walked Stiles focused on his plan and let his feet guide him without thinking too deeply about it. It wouldn't surprise him if Derek - being the most familiar with the forest of the three of them - was trying to guess their destination; unfortunately for him that was a losing game.
Luck seemed to be on his side for once. If Stiles focused, he could make out the giant stump through the trees ahead of them. He hadn't been turned away.
"Almost there," he announced, breaking the silence they had travelled under.
"I've never been here before," Derek commented haltingly, as if the statement itself confused him. For all that it was just a tree stump, there was something undeniably unique about it that was difficult to pinpoint if you didn't know what you were looking at; Derek probably had been here before, just not here.
"Well then," Stiles said as he forced himself to continue onwards, "welcome to the beacon of Beacon Hills. Also known as an impromptu prison for nasty spirits."
Well, spirit singular. Gods Stiles hoped there wasn't anything else buried in the roots somewhere waiting to break free. He might actually have to pack up and leave town if he got possessed by one more damn malicious spirit.
"Okay, I'll be right back," Stiles informed the World-Eater, which manifested near the stump. It didn't respond, but Stiles felt a sense of expectation bearing down on him. Just as well that he wasn't intending to con the creature, because it sure as hell felt like it would have no qualms about killing him if this little excursion didn't pay off.
Taking a fortifying breath, Stiles began poking about for the entrance.
In truth, Stiles would very happily have lived his entire life without ever stepping foot into the Nemeton's root cellar ever again. It wasn't as if the place was exactly brimming with good memories. Nevertheless, the Nogitsune was a problem that would have needed to be dealt with at some point, and today just so happened to be that day.
Although it was mostly a subconscious choice, up until today Stiles had very pointedly not spent much time considering the Nogitsune or making plans to avoid being re-possessed. Pretending it didn't exist was kinder to his already stressed self than having to consider the various possibilities still open to the spirit in a world where it still lived.
When Stiles eventually found the jar containing the fly he almost didn't want to touch it. Not only was it firmly lodged into a tangle of roots, but it didn't look all that sturdy. Maybe that was just paranoia. Stiles wasn't sure he'd ever seen the jar before, since by the time he knew of its existence the spirit had already taken up residence inside of him.
"You can't chicken out now Stilinski," he scolded himself, trying to find the best place to stand in order to retrieve his mortal enemy's porcelain prison cell. The jar only needed to keep itself together for the next five minutes or so anyway before it inevitably turned to dust.
It took a bit of finesse and a few inadvisable footholds, but Stiles eventually managed to retrieve the jar. Immediately he wanted to shove it straight back into the roots, the Nogitsune's aura licking at his fingers. Whether or not it was actually real or just a phantom sensation dredged up from his memories was irrelevant - it was an equally unpleasant sensation either way. But giving in to that urge truly would be throwing in the towel at the very last hurdle, and Stiles was better than that.
Or, at least, his friends deserved better than that.
So he pushed down his revulsion and maintained a firm grip on the jar - though he held it as far from his body as possible - and made his swift exit from the root cellar, a place he hoped never to have to return to again.
"For the sake of my sanity," Stiles pleaded as he carried his unwanted cargo towards its final resting place, "please do your thing without opening the jar. If the Nogitsune gets loose I think I might actually just lie down on the ground right here and hope for death."
He winced once his brain caught up to his tongue - he hadn't meant to say that last thing. The whole situation had him rattled in a different way now compared to when it was only about the World-Eater. At this point he was pouring fuel onto the fire of curiosity that burned inside of Erica - and of everyone else too, probably. At least they all knew that today was not the day to ask.
The World-Eater accepted the jar from Stiles without a word. As soon as he was certain the creature had a proper grip on it Stiles took several rapid steps backwards, towards Derek and Erica but more importantly away from the Nogitsune. Any distance was good distance, but he couldn't bring himself to willing turn his back to it. Not until he was sure it was gone.
Erica pressed up against his side, a silent comfort. Derek lingered, still clearly on edge.
The clearing filled with a strange pressure, a humming energy. The sound of frantic wings, but a hundredfold.
Himself aside, Stiles had never witnessed the World-Eater consuming properly sentient energy before. Just like Stiles, the Nogitsune could tell what was happening, but, still trapped in the jar, it was powerless to get away. All it could do was panic and protest right up until the end.
The pressure snapped like a popped balloon, the jar disintegrating in the following silence.
The World-Eater stared at the three of them, curious perhaps, maybe thoughtful, but ultimately said nothing more. Stiles blinked, and it was gone.
He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm the wild pounding of his heart.
Hesitantly, Erica voiced what they were all thinking. "Is, uh… Is that it then?"
It startled a laugh out of Stiles. If any of them thought it sounded a little hysterical they were kind enough not to mention it.
His hands were shaking.
Truly, it would be tempting fate to add the other thought likely floating through their minds: that this had been surprisingly easy. Because it hadn't been. Not really.
Stiles had taken a giant leap of faith, and somehow, mercifully, it had paid off. So, so many things could have gone wrong. The World-Eater might not have been interested in talking, or it might have decided to play along right up until it finished consuming the Nogitsune and then chowed down on the three of them for dessert. There was still, even now, a chance that it wouldn't keep its word and was still in fact lingering somewhere, watching, laughing.
(Stiles didn't think that last part was true, not really. The atmosphere felt less oppressive now, in the way that you sometimes didn't notice something was wrong until it was fixed.)
"We should get out of here," Derek suggested, snapping Stiles out of his slowly spiralling thoughts. Erica nodded emphatically, wrapping a hand around one of Stiles' wrists as if she expected him to put up a fight.
Under different circumstances Stiles wasn't averse to spending extended periods of time out in the woods, but today… Yeah, he was definitely ready to leave the vaguely claustrophobic confines of the looming trees.
Giving her arm a gentle pat Stiles extracted his wrist from her grasp, taking her hand in his instead. The contact was grounding, and Stiles certainly needed to stay in the moment for long enough for his post-confrontation panic to dissipate. It wasn't like they would judge him for it, but he really wasn't in the mood to have a nervous breakdown in the middle of the woods.
Derek led the way through the trees, more intuitively in touch with where they were relative to the road even after venturing into random parts in search of the Nemeton.
They ran into Allison not too terribly far off; she had followed at a distance once they started heading off from the initial clearing, but hung back all the same to maintain her position as long-range back-up. It was clear she had questions, but after a single glance at their group she simply took up the rear and let Derek lead on.
It had been a fruitful day, for sure, but also an exhausting one. They'd barely even done anything, but Stiles halfway wanted to sleep for about a week. A day at the very least. His dad would probably OK that. He had after all just saved the town from an unknown disaster scenario.
Everyone deserved a break.
Hopefully it lasted a long time.
A/N:
This chapter did NOT want to be written At All. September was me going to war with a scene starter that I eventually gave in and deleted to start fresh on (which I hate doing). Then Genshin Impact came out so bye-bye October XD I managed to get the most writing done when I tried giving myself a deadline: finish the chapter before the 1.1 update. Obviously I didn't actually make that deadline but it helped a little. You would think that since I'd actually managed to conjure up the general vibe of how to end the story by the time I got to writing the chapter that it might have been willing to play ball, but apparently not.
It's a very anti-climactic scenario because a) I'm not good at writing combat and my brain is too tired for this and b) the World-Eater is actually kinda way too OP to fight? It is basically some dimension-hopping thing that exists outside of linear time for an unknown purpose (*cough* a plot device *cough*) so uh... fighting it seems like a bad idea XD
