Scott came back into the room ten minutes later, drying his hair with a towel as he walked inside. "Look, Stiles. I think we need to –." Scott halted, his hands still wrapped in the towel on his head as he blinked into the empty room. He swallowed, pushing down the panic that was threatening to rise. He took a few more steps into the room, looking in every corner and even glancing behind the door and under the bed – but he wasn't there. Scott's heartbeat sped up and he sniffed the air, inhaling Stiles' scent and tracking it through the room. He ran back to the hallway, expecting to find his scent heading down the stairs into the kitchen, but it didn't – it wasn't there at all. He turned back into the room, continuing to sniff, Stiles' scent strongest by the bed – just as he'd left him. Scott called his name again, hoping beyond hope to hear an answer, but there was none.
Panic was now fully formed, thrumming in Scott's chest and surging through his veins as he struggled to keep his breathing under control.
He'd lost him, he'd lost him again; the Witch had taken him and now she was ripping his skin apart with her fingernails – fuck, he'd never get that image out of his mind – and when she was finished torturing him, she was going to kill him. She was going to kill him and he'd be dead, and – and –
Scott spun around, feeling as though he was going to throw-up. Fear coursed through his body, his instincts urging him to run, to look, to find his missing pack. Scott sniffed the room again, running out into the hallway and down the stairs, searching and smelling every corner of the house, desperate to find that maybe he was wrong, maybe Stiles was still here somehow, somewhere. He wasn't.
His phone began ringing and Scott ran back upstairs and into his bedroom, grabbing his phone off the dresser and hoping to see Stiles' face on the screen, but seeing Malia's instead. Swiping his thumb to answer, Scott brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Scott, Scott you have to come quick! The witch, she –" Malia broke off, her voice turning muffled and unintelligible.
"Malia?! Malia, what's happeni –."
Malia's voice came back, her words coming out in a rush. "The witch – Lydia saw the witch in a vision, she saw her coming into the school and she went to stop her –."
"Alone?! What the hell is wrong with her?!"
"She called me and told me what she was doing, and I tried to go with her – she said the witch was going to burn the school down and she had to stop –."
"Where is she now?! Where's Lydia now?"
"I can't – I don't know, I – I'm trying to track her scent but I keep losing it –."
Scott was already moving, grabbing his shirt and dressing as fast as he could. "Where are you now?" he asked quickly.
"At the edge of town on the north side – I think they went into the woods."
Scott ran down the stairs, his feet pounding on each step until he reached the door, where he started putting on his shoes. "Malia, have you seen Stiles?!" Scott asked fervently, grabbing his keys off the counter and opening the door. "Have you smelled him, or –."
"No," Malia replied, her voice panting for breath. "Why, where is he? Where did he go?"
"I don't know, I just – he was here fifteen minutes ago and now he's just… he's gone. I can't find his scent and I – I think the witch –."
"We'll find him," Malia replied firmly. "We'll find both of them. If the witch took Lydia, then she probably took Stiles too –."
Guilt and fear tore at Scott's chest. He had lost him. He'd lost him after he'd sworn to protect him, after he'd promised to keep him safe, and now Lydia was taken too –
A deep frown set on Scott's face as he got on his bike, his eyes narrowing and flashing red. The time for waiting was over. The witch was going to die now.
Stiles blinked, momentarily in shock before his eyes narrowed into a glare, still looking up at Alayna from his back. "Yeah, well, some people have really deserved it lately."
Alayna stepped back as Stiles sat up, then got to his feet. "You may feel weak for a little while; transition through the portal does not do many favours to one's body."
Stiles kept his gaze on her for a long moment as he worked to reorient himself from the sudden arrival to Alayna's world. Or plane. Or dimension. He really had to ask her about that at one point; but at the moment he couldn't think of anything other than how angry and freaked out he was over everything that was happening. After a few minutes he finally spoke, his voice holding a sharper bite than he'd originally intended: "What the hell took you so long? The Witch has been back for over a week now and she –." Stiles broke off, swallowing before he continued, "I needed your help a long time ago. She's been in the school, she's injured teachers – she burned down the fucking library…"
Alayna's eyes softened and her fingers lightly gripped her skirts. "I'm sorry, Stiles. I would have brought you back sooner – you're right, there's so much more you need to know, so much you need to learn – but the portal's breaking made it difficult to re-open. It also requires a large amount of energy that needed to be recuperated, and so I needed to wait. Believe me, if I had been able, I would have brought you here as soon as you'd made it back to attic."
Stiles stared at Alayna for another moment, before turning away and hunching slightly in on himself, running both his hands through his hair, belatedly realising that his arms were shaking. Damn it, he just wanted to scream right now. Everything was happening too fast, it was too much; and now he was back here, with Alayna, just as he'd been wishing he was ever since he'd found out the Witch was alive, but this was no longer where he needed to be. He needed to be back home, he needed to find the witch, he needed to give her what she wanted, give her his powers, because it was the only way to make all of this stop –
A hand rested gently on his arm and Stiles jumped, head snapping to the side to see Alayna standing beside him, her brows slightly furrowed and her lips pressed together, her dark-blue eyes reflecting bright in the evening sun. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, before she finally spoke. "You're going to stop her, Stiles – I promise you. She may be a witch, but she is not all powerful. You will defeat her; and once you have, I will bring you back here and I will teach you all that I can."
Stiles hesitated for only a moment before tearing himself away and walking across the grass, taking a deep and heavy breath. "I know I will. And I already know how I'm going to defeat her. I'm going to give her my powers. It's what she wanted from the beginning, and if it means that I can stop anyone else from getting hurt, then I –."
"You can't give her your powers, Stiles."
Stiles frowned, turning back around to face Alayna. She was staring at him intently, a frown on her lips, though her eyes expressed her regret; her knuckles turned white in a tight grip against the dark brown of her dress. He leveled his gaze at her, his own fingers clenched in fists by his sides. "Yes, I am. I've already had this conversation with Scott and I'm not going to argue about it anymore; I'm going to give her my powers whether you want me to or not. I don't give a damn what you think, so stop trying to talk me out of it."
"If you give her your powers you will die," Alayna said plainly. "She most likely has implied otherwise, has told you that you will somehow survive the removal, but you won't. Your powers are a part of you – they are like a second heart. If you take them away, you will not be able to survive." Stiles' brows furrowed in confusion and he opened his mouth to speak, but Alayna cut him off before he could begin. Her voice was low and strained, adding to the tension that already filled the air around them. "And let me tell you something Stiles – if you think that giving her your powers will make her stop, will bring an end to the danger she is posing in your home – then you are mad. I've told you once already, but clearly these things need to be hammered into your head before you will see its truth: those who seek power are never content with what they have. They will always want more, and nothing you can give will ever satisfy them. So yes; you can give the Witch your powers – but you will condemn yourself to death, and in doing so will condemn your friends and family to death as well. You will be doing the exact opposite of all that you are wanting to achieve – and I will not allow that to happen."
Stiles stared at her for a long moment, his mouth now held tightly shut. She was right; he knew she was right. It was a long shot in giving Givens his powers – he knew that. But he'd let himself hope, he'd wanted to hope that giving her what she wanted would make her stop. But what Alayna said was most likely true – Givens would never stop hurting others. But if he didn't give her his powers, then that meant he had no other options; he had no more ideas of how to stop her. He wouldn't know what else to do.
He didn't know what else to do.
Stiles finally opened his mouth, opening and closing it a few times before words finally left his tongue. "Then what… what am I supposed to do?" He raised his arms in the air beside him questioningly, his heart starting to beat fast once more. "What am I supposed to do?! I can't – Scott and the others can try and fight her, but they won't…. She's a witch, and they can't – they can't see that she's going to be different, that she won't be like some other supernatural creature they've faced before, so how –."
"Why can't you fight her?"
Stiles halted and blinked, his eyes wide and his arms still raised in the air. "I can't… I don't know…." He swallowed. "I don't know how to fight. And I can't – I'm not strong enough. I don't know the first thing about these powers, I don't know how to use them, I can barely knock someone over, much less actually use them to fight –."
"You can do more than that, Stiles, and you know it. You've used the air more than once since I last saw you – I know you've been able to feel it. You've felt it surging beneath your skin, its power stirring deep within you, giving you energy, giving you strength. You know its instinct – you know that its waiting for you to use it, to take it in your hands and do with it what you will. It's yours for the taking – if only you would." She paused, looking Stiles straight in the eyes. "But you won't."
"I've told you, it's because I don't know how to use them –."
"Stop lying!" Alayna looked Stiles up and down, appraising him, judging him. He withstood her gaze, though he wanted to run. The problem was that he had nowhere to run to. After a long moment Alayna spoke: "The last time we met I said that you were afraid – that you were afraid of responsibility, that you were afraid of the consequences these powers might bring. Is that still what you fear? Is that why you continue to run?"
Stiles jerked back, his heart beating loudly in his chest and he turned away, shaking his head. He had enough of this. He didn't even know this woman, he didn't even know where he was or anything that had been happening to him in the past month. She had no right to presume what he thought, what he feared –
"Where are you going?" Alayna called, and Stiles could hear her footsteps as she followed after him. He walked faster, hoping she'd get the hint and leave him alone. She didn't. "Stiles!"
"Just leave me alone!" he shouted, stepping foot into the trees. As he was just about to move a stray branch out of his way with his hand, the branch suddenly moved on its own, bending backwards to the side until it was no longer in front him. Stiles came to an abrupt halt, staring at the branch with wide eyes. Movement caught his eye and he looked down to see raised roots sinking back into the ground, shrubbery and bush creeping across the ground and behind the trees, and fallen logs rolling away – all of it leaving behind a clear and clean path in front of him, dusted only in fallen leaves.
It took Stiles a moment to realise what had happened, and when he did he balked, taking a step back. Rustling sounded behind him and Stiles turned to see more branches moving out his way, like a crowd of people parting for their king. Footsteps broke leaves and twigs behind him and Stiles turned around to see Alayna looking at the trees with wide eyes. "Did you mean for them to do that?" she asked, her words coming out in an unexpected rush.
Stiles frowned. "No," he replied, looking back at the trees.
"You're saying they just moved like that, all on their own?"
Stiles turned round, looking back at the trees, not knowing why Alayna seemed so concerned. "Yeah, I – I guess. I was just walking and they moved in front of me. Or away from me."
"But you didn't try and make them move? You didn't hold out your hand or will for them to do it?"
Stiles looked back at her, staring at her in irritated confusion. "I told you, I didn't mean to make them move! It did it by itself!"
Alayna looked back at the trees, completely still for a long moment before turning back to Stiles. "You need to start learning, and you need to start now. When did you begin controlling the earth?"
"I don't know, a – a week ago? A week and a half? I was just walking around and everywhere I walked the grass started growing, and then a tree decided it was going to start growing on me, so I –."
Alayna suddenly grabbed Stiles' wrist, pulling him back out of the trees. "You need to start learning how to focus. You have no idea what your potential is or how strong you are, and until you do –."
Stiles ripped his hand out of Alayna's and stopped, digging his heels into the ground. "I told you, I'm not doing this anymore! I'm not going to deal with any of this shit –."
"And I told you that giving up your powers wasn't an option – unless your goal is to commit suicide and give the Witch the ability to kill far more people than she already can!"
Stiles glared at her, shaking his head. "I'm not going."
They stared at each other, now in a standoff, both utterly still until Alayna finally broke the silence. "Then you have condemned your friends and your family to death. Is that what you want? Well?" Her voice grew louder until she was shouting. "Is that what you want?!"
"I DON'T KNOW!" Stiles shouted back, his voice echoing through the trees and the clearing. His hands gripped his hair until he ripped them away, glaring viciously at Alayna. "And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?! Huh?! You bring me here, you give me some bullshit-spiel about nothing, telling me you're not like Givens but not saying why. You just expect me to trust you, to believe you're trying to help me – but I know nothing about you! And yet you stand here, trying to tell me what to do with my life? What to do with my powers? I didn't even ask for them! I didn't ask for these damn powers and I sure as hell don't want them! I told you this before but you obviously don't know how to listen worth a damn, because you keep shoving it all in my face! You keep telling me that I need to use them, that I need to learn how to use them, but that's all you do! You don't actually show me what to do! You don't show me what to fucking do!
"Well I'm not dealing with this anymore. I am not a part of your stupid fuckin' prophecy; I am not your Blessed. I'm just Stiles Stilinski – a regular, normal, seventeen-year-old kid who's about to finish high-school then go to college. I'm going to get married and have kids and grow old and I'm gonna have a normal fuckin' life – I'm not going to fight off some fucking 'darkness' or whatever the hell it is you say I'm supposed to do. I'm just a normal human – that's all I am. That's all I've ever wanted to be…." Stiles trailed off, his throat scratchy and raw, heat burning threateningly behind his eyes.
They stared at each other for a while, Alayna's expression unreadable as she looked back at him, though her hands were wrapped tightly within in her dress. After what felt like an age of silence, she opened her mouth, tilting her head forwards slightly in a small nod of acknowledgement. "You're right," she said quietly. Stiles suddenly became aware that he was breathing heavily, his heart pounding loudly and steadily in his chest. "I haven't told you much of anything about your powers, the prophecy, or the Blessed. I haven't told you who I am or given any reason as to why you should trust me. I've placed far too much on your shoulders at once than what you ever deserved. And for that I am sorry."
She tilted her head back, taking a deep breath before continuing. "My name is Alayna Asterleigh. I am not a witch, not like Givens, but I can use some magic. The witch you are fighting is Alice Givhan. She is relatively young, born in the mid-nineteenth century, and has been causing havoc ever since. She is particularly greedy, which is why she has come after you so early in your years. Had she waited even a few years, you most likely would have discovered your powers and been ready for her when she came for them."
"And why are you here?" Stiles asked, looking around. "What is this place?"
Alayna swallowed before answering him and Stiles knew this was a topic she didn't enjoy, but at the moment he couldn't care less what she felt. "I cannot tell you everything about this place," she said. "But what I will tell you is that you are not the only one to know what it is like to live in a prison."
The anger that had been coursing through Stiles' veins faltered and he blinked, his frown momentarily falling from his face. "You're… you're stuck here?" he asked.
"Well I certainly wouldn't spend my years here of my own choosing," she replied caustically.
Stiles' frown returned. "But why… who put you here?"
A shadow fell across the house and the trees, interrupting their conversation and causing both their heads to turn to the sky. A dark cloud drifted across the orange sky, blocking out the setting sun. A crack of thunder rumbled across the clearing, a stark contrast to the endless blue-sky and shining sun that had been so present the first time he was here. As Stiles watched, a small sensation began prodding him in the back of his mind, whispering that something was wrong, that somewhere there was danger. He was brought out of his thoughts, however, when Alayna spoke. "Come with me, Stiles." Stiles looked down and saw Alayna walking away towards the house. He paused for only a moment before following after her.
They walked through the door and into the kitchen, which looked exactly the same as when Stiles had last seen it, but instead of stopping they continued on through the door and into the back of the house. The room was filled with a clutter of different things, from papers and books strewn across old shelves and tables, to an actual spinning wheel tucked away in the corner, thread still latched through the spinner. Stiles didn't have time to look too long, however, as Alayna continued to lead him through yet another door, entering a small room on the other side.
A desk stood beneath the window with a tome of a book sitting on top, nothing else nearby. Alayna sat down on the chair and Stiles came up beside her, wondering what it was she was trying to show him. The book looked very old, intricate designs raised across the cover and dancing around to the back. There was no title or any words to describe it, but it was clear that it held something important. Alayna brushed her fingers briefly across the cover, before grasping the edge and pulling it open.
Stiles frowned, tilting his head slightly in confusion. He had been expecting to see pages upon pages filled with nothing but words, but instead what he saw were pictures, followed by brief paragraphs beside or beneath them. The pictures weren't just any pictures, though – they were photographs. They were recent photographs. They were photographs from the 21st century.
"This book tells me everything that is going on, everything that is happening or has happened throughout history. It is my only window to the outside world." She turned to a page with a car on it, surrounded by buildings and skyscrapers. She pointed to the picture, tapping it with her finger. "As a child, I would never have thought that the world would come to see moving carriages with no horse to pull them. It's rather remarkable, really, what human hands have accomplished."
She flipped through a few more pages, her eyes quietly scanning each picture before moving on to the next. Stiles glanced between her and the book, a mixture of sadness and guilt slowly growing in his chest.
So she was trapped here. And from the looks of things, she had been trapped here for a very long time. Her words from their first meeting echoed in Stiles' mind, when she had told him in a very off-handed manner that if there was a cliff, she'd have already jumped off it. Stiles swallowed, realising just how much he had misjudged her. He'd thought Alayna was just another witch, that she was just another person trying to make him do what she wanted him to do, trying to push and control his life. He hadn't thought that, in reality, she was just another prisoner like he had been – like he still felt he was. Perhaps she was even more so.
Alayna let out a soft sigh, before shutting the book with a thump. She leaned back in her chair, suddenly looking tired and weary as she ran a hand across her mouth, before settling it on her lap. "We all have our trials that we must go through, Stiles," she said, looking out the window into the empty yard. "We are all put in positions that we do not want to be in, we are all given things that we do not want to deal with. You're right; you didn't ask to be the Blessed, you didn't ask to have powers, to control the elements of this world. You didn't ask to be part of a prophecy centuries old – you didn't ask for any of it. You've done nothing to deserve being in this position, in this place." She paused briefly, taking a small breath before continuing, "But you are. You have a right to mourn the loss of your past and what you thought was going to be your life – you have every right. And it is right that you should do so. But mourning and grieving your loss will not bring it back; it will not make the reality you now face disappear."
Alayna finally turned, looking up at Stiles, her mouth pressed in a thin line and her eyes betraying the empathy and sympathy that she was feeling. Stiles fought back the lump that had formed in his throat and clenched his teeth, determined to hold onto the anger that was now slowly starting to fall through his fingers.
Alayna watched him for a few moments, before speaking. "Do you remember what I said the last time we met, about how I thought what you feared was the responsibility these powers gave you, the fact that power can often change and corrupt a person if they let it? I am sure you still fear those things, certainly – but I don't think that's why you're running away from your powers now. I think don't think you're afraid of your powers, Stiles – I think you're afraid of yourself. You're afraid you won't be able to use them, that when you try you will fail, that in the end, you won't be able to live up to all that has been said about you, all that has been foretold. You know these powers give you strength, but you fear that, in the end, you won't be strong enough for them."
Stiles finally turned away, shaking his head and walking back until he reached the wall, trying to keep his emotions in check, shouting in his mind that she was wrong, that none of what she was saying was true. He hated his powers, he didn't want them, he wanted to get rid of them, because power was dangerous, power meant responsibility, power meant corruption –
Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, his arms wrapped painfully around his sides as he tried to come up with an answer, as he tried to gather the words he needed to refute her claims. The only problem was, he realised, opening his eyes – he couldn't.
She was right.
He didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to accept it – but she was telling the truth. A truth that he really, really didn't want to hear. But it didn't matter what he wanted, because she knew more about this whole thing than he did, and when he really thought about it…. The feeling he felt when he used his powers, the feeling of the air moving beneath his fingers, wrapping around his heart, his soul…. Even when he'd touched the tree back in the clearing with Scott, he'd felt an inexplicable connection, a pull unlike anything he'd ever felt before in his life. It had felt good, it had felt right; it had felt safe, it had felt comforting.
It had felt like home.
If he'd let himself admit it, deep down he was actually curious about these powers, he wanted to know what he could do, just how far he could push them, how strong he could be. But it was all happening too fast; it had barely been a month since he'd first walked into the classroom where Givens stood, pretending she was a scared, meek, and mild substitute teacher; a wolf in sheep's clothing. Everything was just too overwhelming; he needed time to stop, to process, to accept it all. But Givens wasn't giving him that time.
He felt much like he had the last time he was here, when he was forced to accept the revelation of his powers and the prophecy in only a matter of hours before he went back to face Givens in the attic. But it hadn't been acceptance so much as stalling; he'd needed to escape the Witch and to do that he had to pretend he understood, he had to pretend that he was okay with it all. He hadn't been and now he was back here, forced once again to make a decision; forced once again to accept his powers, to accept that they were a permanent part of him, of his life. Only this time, however, that acceptance meant so much more. Its weight sat on his shoulders like concrete, pushing him down, making it impossible for him to move. It wasn't like before, when he'd only had a few hours to discover his powers. It had been almost a month now of being aware they existed, of quietly reaching out in the night and holding them, grasping the air and moving it to his will. He'd fought with his powers, he'd felt his powers, he'd used his powers….
Stiles took a deep, heavy breath, and raised his head.
He didn't understand it all, maybe he never would. But Alayna was right – he had to stop running away. He had to stop running away from his powers, from his gifts, from the prophecy – and he had to start accepting that they were now a part of him, and always would be. Perhaps they always had been. Because if he didn't stop fighting them, if he didn't stop refusing them, then only more people would get hurt; only more people would die. He'd said that Scott and the others wouldn't stand a chance against Givens, that they were only werewolves and werecoyotes, banshees and kitsunes, and their abilities, for all they were worth, would be nothing against a witch.
But maybe, Stiles thought, turning around to face Alayna, his lips pressed in a thin, firm line – his could.
They both stared at each other for a long moment, neither saying a word, but whatever was on Stiles' face must have said something, for Alayna's worried frown slowly began to ease, until she was looking at Stiles with something akin to relief. Stiles took another deep breath, and unclenched his fists. "Tell me what I need to know."
Scott drove his bike through the trees as long as he was able, until he finally was forced to abandon it and continue on foot. He caught the scent of his pack easily, weaving his way through the trees and jumping over fallen logs and branches as fast as he could. The scents were many and ran in different paths, but the one Scott latched onto the most was Givens. Her scent was a pungent, musty smell that made his nose hurt, but he knew that if he wanted to find the others – if he wanted to find Stiles – he had to find her.
He ran for nearly twenty-minutes before he broke through the clearing and found them, the sight before him bringing him to an immediate halt.
Liam was currently in the middle of a fight with the Rogue Wolf and was losing – badly. Malia was trying to help him, but neither of them could gain an upper hand against the much larger – and much more feral – werewolf. Givens was nearby, being attacked repeatedly by Kira's sword as it came crashing down on her, wrapped in the flame of the kitsune. Kira was surprisingly holding her own against the witch rather well, forcing the older woman to step back with every blow she gave.
But where were Stiles and Lydia?
Scott swung his head every which way, searching desperately for the rest of his pack, sniffing the air for their scents. He caught Lydia's and began to look for her, knowing she was nearby, but he couldn't find Stiles'.
"SCOTT!"
Scott turned to Liam, who gave him a frantic look in amongst defending blows from the other wolf, looking pointedly at Kira and Givens. Scott took off without a second thought and ran towards the witch, his claws and teeth extended as his eyes turned a dark red. He raised his hand, just about to bring it down across Givens' neck, when suddenly he was thrown back and sent sprawling across the clearing, crashing hard into the trunk of a tree. He gave no time for his injuries, however, and immediately rose to his feet, running back to the fight.
Kira looked up at him as he returned and Givens used the distraction to send her flying across the ground, her sword ripped from her hands and sent tumbling through the air, landing on the forest floor nearby. Scott made to punch Givens' face then ducked, dodging the shockwave of magic that tore through the clearing and crashed into the trees, ripping the bark from their sides. He swiped his hand at her back, his claws ripping through her dress and tearing into her skin. The witch screeched and spun around, a ferocious snarl on her face as she raised her hand towards him.
At that moment, however, there was a loud scream, and Givens was thrown away to the side, landing on the ground in a heap. Scott looked up and saw Lydia standing at the edge of the trees, her dress torn and dirtied, her skin littered with cuts and blood. Her chest was heaving with rapid breaths, but her eyes were narrowed and held an anger and determination that Scott knew meant someone was going to get hurt. "Lydia!" he called out, wanting to know she was all right, but they were given no time to talk before Givens got back to her feet, and started towards the banshee. Lydia's eyes grew wild and she opened her mouth, and a second scream tore through the clearing, sending Givens flying back to the ground.
"Scott!"
Scott looked up to see Kira running up beside him, panting for breath as she adjusted her sword in her grip. He grabbed her arm, looking back only briefly to see Givens still on the ground, slowly getting to her feet. He turned back to Kira. "What hap –."
"She took Lydia at the school – Malia and Liam ran after her. When I found out I followed, and when I got here they were already fighting –."
"Where's Stiles?"
"What?"
"Where's Stiles?!"
A shout was heard to their left, and both of them turned to see Lydia being held in the air, her fingers grasping at invisible binds that held her by her neck. Scott growled and extended his claws, turning his full attention to the Witch. "Let her go!" he yelled.
"I must say, Mr. McCall," Givens said, still holding Lydia in the air, a small smile on her lips. "It's about time you arrived. The party started without you, I'm afraid."
Scott ran towards her and gave her no time to continue before he lunged forward; but rather than try to rip out her throat, he instead crashed into her side, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Lydia fell from the air with Kira beneath her, managing to break her fall.
Scott quickly got back to his feet, crouching defensively, waiting for Givens to make her next move. The Witch stood up with ease, looking none the worse for wear, despite her torn dress and bleeding skin. The smile she had been wearing before was now gone, replaced with an angry glare. "You're testing my patience, wolf," she said, waving her arm to the side. Kira and Lydia's shouts were immediately silenced and they were frozen where they stood. They struggled to move from the invisible bonds, but to no avail.
Scott glared at the witch, backing slowly away as he looked for any opening he could take. "I'm going to kill you," he growled. He expected the witch to talk, to give him some monologue about how he would fail and she would win, but she did neither.
"I don't care about you or your pack," she said evenly. "I only want the Blessed. Where is he?"
Scott kept his mouth firmly shut, continuing to look for an opening of attack. Even if he did know where Stiles was, he would never tell her – even if it cost him his life. "Go to hell," he replied instead, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his wolf urging him to attack, maim, and destroy.
Scott felt a force pushing against him, trying to move him farther back and off his feet. He stood his ground, digging his heels into the soil and refusing to let her move him. Givens' glare darkened and she extended her hand, taking a few steps towards him. The force increased, but Scott's determination was stronger and he continued to stay where he was. Givens finally let out a screech of anger and waved her hand, sending everyone in the clearing – including the Rogue Wolf – to the ground.
"Where is the Blessed?!" she screamed. "Give me the Blessed!"
"Who the hell are you talking about?!" Lydia shouted, wavering back to her feet. But Givens paid her no attention.
"I want the Blessed! Give me the Blessed this instant or I will kill each and every one of you!"
"We don't know who the hell the 'Blessed' is!" Malia intervened, trying to keep her attention on both the fight with the wolf and with the Witch.
Givens stared at Scott, her eyes dark and wild. "Give him to me," she said, stepping closer towards him. "Give him to me or all your friends will die."
Scott continued to remain silent, until finally Givens straightened her shoulders and tilted her head back. "Fine," she said, walking away. "Then until your fratrem shows up, you will have the enjoyment of watching each one of your friends die before your eyes." She waved her hand towards Kira and Lydia and both were lifted into the air, their feet kicking as they struggled to find solid ground. Scott jerked forward, but Givens held out her other hand and an invisible barrier appeared, stopping him from moving any further. "Who shall we kill first, hmm?" Givens looked between the two girls, her finger tapping her chin in mock contemplation, before her eyes finally came to a rest on Lydia. A smile spread across her lips. "I wonder if a banshee can predict her own death?" she asked. "Let us find out."
Stiles raised his arm and splayed his fingers outwards, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them once more, staring intently on the tree before him. Nothing happened for a moment, and Alayna spoke: "Feel the earth, Stiles," she said quietly. "Feel it beneath your feet, feel it all around you, feel the life of the trees that stand before you. Feel their strength, feel their essence. Once you have that, you must focus on it – focus and push it to move in the way you want, urge it to do as you will."
Stiles could feel the essence she was talking about, could feel the earth and the trees around him; he could even sense the tree that was standing in front of him. He closed his eyes and focused, trying to grasp the tendrils of the element that seemed just out of reach. He suddenly grasped it, then faltered and lost it. Growling in frustration, Stiles opened his eyes, glaring at the unmoving tree. Alayna hushed him, whispering for him to try to again. Closing his eyes, Stiles pushed away his anger and refocused on the tree, trying to grab hold once more.
This time when Stiles grabbed onto the element, it didn't slip away. A sudden strength poured through him, rejuvenating and reviving him, giving him a sudden burst of energy and awareness he hadn't had before. He willed for the tree to move, for the branches to dance, for the leaves to sing. When he opened his eyes a smile spread across his lips, as the branches and leaves of the tree moved back and forth in a windless air, waving with invisible strings. "Very good," Alayna said.
Stiles turned to look at her; her brown hair fell gently over her shoulders, a small, pleased smile turning up the sides of her lips. Stiles vaguely realised that he was rather pleased himself, too. They hadn't been working for even an hour, but he'd still managed to do almost everything she had asked, revealing to both her and himself just how far he'd come since he'd last been here. The air was his most easiest element to handle, obviously, since it was the first one he'd learned; but even the earth was falling quickly into his grasp, taking barely anytime to respond to his promptings, seeming almost eager to come under his control. The fear that Stiles had felt about his powers, though still very much within him, was slowly beginning to ease.
"Now," Alayna said, leading Stiles out of the trees and into the clearing. She motioned to the sky, stretching her arm high. "You can control the air, the wind, the trees, and the earth – but can you control the clouds?"
Stiles knew this was coming; he even already knew the answer. But he knew that her question meant far more than just making the clouds move. This, perhaps more than anything else he had done so far, frightened him. He knew he could control the clouds, that he could control the weather – but he also knew that that control was far from perfect. If anything, it was dangerous. But he didn't have time to worry. The knowledge that Givens was still out there – looking for him, threatening his friends, his family, his town – forced all feelings of fear and uncertainty aside, and with a deep breath he raised his hand to the sky, and closed his eyes.
He'd expected to at least feel something, to at least sense the air above him moving in the clouds, to feel the electricity rippling within them. Instead he felt nothing, only a hollow void where nothing could be grasped, where nothing could be moved.
Sighing, Stiles let his arm drop to his side, frowning at the untouched-sky above him.
"You need to trust yourself," Alayna said, coming up beside him.
"You've already told me that," Stiles replied, trying and failing to keep the petulant sarcasm out of his voice, "and I don't think the sky cares whether or not I know how to trust myself. It seems pretty fine to just sit there and do nothing."
He expected Alayna to make a snarky reply back – she had a surprising propensity for that – but she didn't. Instead she sighed, brushing her fingers rigidly through her hair along her shoulder. "Your elements are a part of your instincts, Stiles," she said, her calm voice a contrast to the nervous fidgeting of her fingers. "You just need to find them, and once you do I am sure this will all, in time, become second nature to you."
"And how long do you think that will take?" Stiles asked.
Alayna looked up at him, catching his eye. "With the rate at which you are already proceeding? I can't imagine more than –." Alayna broke off, her eyes suddenly growing wide and her body going completely still.
Stiles frowned, concern etching across his features. "Alayna?" he asked tentatively. "Alayna what's wron –."
Without any warning Alayna suddenly keeled forward, her arms wrapping around her sides before moving to her head, her hands covering her ears just as she let out a very loud, terrifying scream.
Stiles jerked back, flinching as he covered his own ears, staring at Alayna with wide, fear-filled eyes. He quickly recovered, running back and leaning down, grabbing her shoulders and trying to get her attention. "Alayna!" he shouted, trying to be heard above her screams. "ALAYNA!"
Fear coursed through his body as he stared at her, helpless for what to do. He tried shaking her but she didn't respond, her eyes remaining tightly shut and her hands still covering her ears as her mouth continued to scream. Just as he thought it would never end, the screaming stopped, but only for a moment; it quickly returned and continued, but this time it was accompanied by something else.
A loud voice echoed throughout the clearing and the trees, filling the entire place with its presence, resounding through the air as though coming from every and all directions. "I'm waiting for you, my little Blessed," it said lightly. Stiles' surprised eyes immediately turned into a glare, as he immediately recognised the all-too familiar voice.
Givens.
Alayna continued to scream and Stiles noticed blood beginning to run from her eyes and her nose, as Givens voice continued to boom loudly around them. "I've got your friends, little Blessed," she taunted. "I've got the coyote, the banshee, the kitsune, and your two pet wolves – and they're all waiting for you. We'll have a tea-party," she laughed. "Won't that be fun?" The air shimmered before him and a moment later an image of a clearing appeared. Within it stood all his friends – his Pack – all standing before Givens and the Rogue Wolf, save two. Kira and Lydia were currently standing on a branch high in a tree; though Stiles couldn't see them very closely, he was able to make out the one detail that mattered most – the nooses that were wrapped around both of their necks.
Stiles' muscles froze, then tensed, as his eyes widened with horrifying realisation.
"Run, run, run, my foolish little man," Givens sang above Alayna's screams, "you'll have to catch them, for no one else can."
Just as it had started, everything stopped. The image disappeared and the voice faded away, leaving only Stiles and Alayna by the house once more. Alayna's screams abruptly ceased and without any warning she pitched forward, falling into Stiles' quickly-outstretched arms. "A-Alayna," he stuttered, looking her over, trying to see if she was all right. "Are you okay? Alayna, wake up!"
Alayna's eyes fluttered back open and she blinked a few times before her gaze caught Stiles'. He tried wiping the blood that was streaked across her face but she pushed him away, struggling to get to her feet. "You must leave," she managed to say, trying to stand but falling back into Stiles' arms. She pushed away once more. "You must – you must find her; she is going to kill your friends – she will kill all of them. You must hurry."
Stiles watched her, helping her to her feet. "Alayna, you, I – I –."
Alayna's one hand dug tightly into her thigh as she waved the other in front of her. The sky above her cracked with a sudden bang, and a large portal appeared before them, wind swirling around an image of a forest looking down over a hill. Alayna struggled to move, but when she did she grasped Stiles' arm and pushed him towards the portal. Stiles tried to protest, tried to stop – help, she needed help – but she had a surprising strength and Stiles found himself inching ever closer to the door. "Go," Alayna said. Stiles started to argue but she broke him off. "I'll be fine! Now go!"
The familiar sensation of the portal pulled against him and Stiles closed his eyes against the onslaught of the wind. When he opened them next, he was standing in a forest on a hill, overlooking a valley and the forest beyond. Dark clouds loomed overhead, encompassing the entire sky as thunder rumbled low in the distance.
A quiet sensation gently touched the back of his mind and Stiles stilled, wondering what it was, before realising with a start that it was an element – that it was the earth. Stiles looked beyond the valley, trying to figure out where he should go, when the sensation brushed against his mind once more, and he suddenly knew exactly where they were.
Without a second thought, he began to run.
A/N: Sorry for the wait! Had to finish up some work commitments that needed to get done before I could work on this. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed - I read and appreciate every one of your comments. Your support is GREATLY appreciated!
