freefall-gypsy and 0809, I hope I did this chapter justice for you two! Enjoy!

Stiles

I don't know what woke me up first, maybe it was the fact that I was no longer in my sleeping bag, or maybe it was the fact that I wasn't cold. Either way, I figured that if I opened my eyes and found myself in a casket, then I shouldn't be all that surprised. I mean, I probably froze to death and someone found me. With that mental pick-me-up, I pried my eyes open and was happy to see that I wasn't in a dark casket, but I was in a nice room. It kind of reminded me of the room Bella had, not that I would ever willingly watch Twilight other than to see if there was any truth in the characters, supernatural wise. A rather large, calloused hand placed itself on my forehead, and I jerked upwards in fright. Or, at least I tried but in reality all I did was jerk slightly then more than likely I groaned in pain, oh lordy that hurt.

Another hand settled itself over my sternum and I began to feel warmth, it started to radiate from my chest and outward to all my limbs. It was relaxing, soothing….A small part of me was panicking, this wasn't right, something was going to happen, if it wasn't already happening. But my body and the rest of my mind refused to listen, and I was pulled down to sleep once more.

Derek and the pack

Stile's death had sent all the pack for a loop, Deaton seemed shaken and he left the pack den without another thought. No pack member was able to get near Deaton's building, it was drowning in mountain ash, and it had more supernatural barriers than the Chinese phonebook had Chins. Slowly they were able to get back to their old ways, they knew something had happened to their friend's body but Derek wasn't letting them research, and the whole town was in mourning, so even if they wanted to, they wouldn't have been able to get very far without angering the already disheartened community. But just as they were getting used to the world, a world without Stiles, but then something happened.

Scott, Boyd, and Isaac were in school and in the only class period they had separate when it happened. It felt as if someone had smashed them in the head with a bat made of Mountain ash, and that the ground gave way.

Scott dropped his pencil, his eyes went wide and he looked around his math class deliriously, he was able to focus on Stile's chair for a moment, then nothing. His eyes rolled around his head and he slumped in his seat, head rolled on a limp neck. This caused the first wave of panic.

Boyd was in gym class, he was forced to repeat Freshman gym due to the complications of last year. He was easily jogging the mile, enjoying the smells that gently came from the surrounding tree line and it allowed him and his wolf to be at peace. When it was as if an earthquake had come, he couldn't find solid footing. He slammed painfully onto the track and groaned, a few people slowed their jog and eyed him wearily, he was a rather imposing figure usually but now, he seemed kind of pitiful. Boyd's head began to pound, lights flashed in his eyes, and his body seized twice before he blacked out. The freshman started to scream.

Lastly, Isaac, Isaac was in a mandatory counseling session. He was sitting on an over plush armchair, listening with one ear as the woman, who reeked of dead flora, yammered on and on about closure and how talking about what has happened should aid in his healing. The first thing to go was his sight, the second his hearing; he clutched the edge of the chair, praying that he didn't have claws. Then he listed to the side, a blood slowly dripping from his left nostril. Unresponsive to the now near frantic woman, that was the final wave.

The three wolves were raced to the closest hospital, thankfully Ms. McCall was on duty, and she knew that it would be just a matter of time before a very distraught and angry alpha would crash through the hospital looking for his pack. The three boys were rushed into MRI machines and Cat-Scans, but no one was able to find the reason behind their collapse, this only seemed to unnerve the staff even more.

Deaton had been wiping down a table when he felt it, the sudden snuff of power, it was a string going lax, or a waterfall suddenly turned off and there wasn't even a drop to show that it once existed. Deaton knew what it meant, but it was nearly impossible for him to fathom. It meant that Stiles was in face alive, or he had been, but then he died. And his death had caused a ripple in the natural order. Deaton knew that the betas would be nearly catatonic, and their alpha in worse shape. He sighed heavily, and attempted to move forward, only to find that his legs were rather weak. Leaning against the table, Deaton shook his head, he had feared that Stiles's magic would simply stay dormant and he would be able to pass away in peace. But of course simplicity is not the way of life in Beacon Hills. No matter how he yearned for it. And even thought Deaton loathed it, he knew that he would have to go back to the dogs and tell them that Stiles was in fact alive, and is now dead, but it is a good indicator that he will be alive again, and that they needed to begin searching for him. Because the more deaths Stiles experienced, the less humanity would remain within him. And if he died enough times, the Stiles they knew would no longer exist, and only calculating magic would be left, and that was something that Deaton feared to see.

Stiles

When I came to again, I noticed a few things. One, I was still in the bed that was overly frilly but very comfortable, two, I still had no idea where I was other than that I was in a very feminine room, and three I knew that there was someone to my left. Very slowly I moved my head, and saw a rather beautiful woman sitting in an old rocking chair, even though she wasn't rocking, the chair gave off a sense of…something. It is impossible to explain. She was neither young nor old, a few stray grey hairs gave her a touch of wisdom, but her face had no creases.

'I see that you are awake young one,' She signed, without looking in my direction.

If at all possible my eyes grew larger than they had ever been. 'How did you know that I was deaf?' I asked, looking at her curiously.

'It was whispered through the leaves,' she replied simply, turning her head to look at me, her dark brown eyes danced with mischief.

I honestly didn't know how to respond to that, so I just looked at her for a moment. 'Where am I,' might as well go with the simple questions and work my way up.

'You are safe, young one. But it was a challenge, you deciding to sleep in the cold and wet, not a smart move.' She signed, a slight crease formed between her two perfect eyebrows as she surveyed me.

'How did you find me?'

'The whispers,' she signed with a fluidity that could only be from many years of using sign language.

Before I was able to say much more my eyes grew heavy, almost alarmingly so.

'Do not fret, my dear, you are simply settling into your magic, you will be tired for some time. But be at peace, you are safe with us.'

My hand rose to reply, but it grew too heavy, and the last thought I had was, what magic, before sleep overcame me.

I woke up a few more times, and there was very little change in my surroundings. The woman would either be in the rocking chair or standing by a window, she would patiently answer my questions and then I would pass out again. In retrospect it is kind of embarrassing, I mean, I kept falling asleep on her, I really hope that I didn't snore or fart or something just as embarrassing.
When I was finally able to stay awake for more than a few minutes, the woman decided that it would be best to introduce herself.

'My name is Nara,' she signed from the rocker. A light blanket was thrown over her lower half, making her seem smaller.

'Stiles,' I signed back, flashing her a tentative smile.

'Stiles,' She signed back, to make sure she had it right.

My smile brightened, and she gave me a gentle smile back.

'How well do you know of your family history, Stiles?' she asked, turned the rocker slightly so she was looking at me head on.

I shrugged and looked at my hands, surprised to see that they were clean, even under the nails, and for a brief second a few weeks back I had believed that I would never again have white fingernails. And now, they were cleaner than Lydia's. Lydia, Scott….No, I would not go down that road, I could not.

'My mother died when I was little, my father is as American bland as they come.' I shrugged, not really looking up as I signed.

She waited patiently for me to look before she answered. 'Have you ever met either parents' parent?'

I thought for a moment then shook my head, I never really thought of it before but I couldn't remember meeting my grandparents. On either side. 'Why is that important?' I asked, cocking my head to the side in confusion, something the old Stiles would do but it was ingrained.

She smiled warmly, 'What do you know of Camelot and Merlin?'

'Other than what I learned through BBC America, not much,'

'Well,' she paused for a moment, her eyes had a thoughtful gleam, 'it would be best to start from Merlin's heritage then work down,' she gave herself a moment, positioning her hands over her breasts and looked directly into my eyes. 'This is the story of how you came to be, and of how many others have come to pass,'

'Merlin was a very powerful creature, he was not a man, and he was not a beast, he simply was. Some believe that he was created to see the joining of Abylon, other's believe that he was the original source of magic, and all things purely supernatural. Either way, his magic did not die with him, and Merlin never had children, instead it traveled into a new born babe, who was born two hundred years later. It has been said that the babe was very ill, the mother had passed and the child only had moments before it followed it's mother to the afterlife. But instead, the magic entered the body, and created the next generation of Merlin's. The babe, a girl, grew to be strong and she fought for what she believed and died rather poetically. I think your history books call her Joan, Joan of Arc.

The belief that magic is purged from the body through the use of flames is actually far from the truth, flames can simply be manipulation of the eye, yes, Joan died when she was young and yes she died fighting for what she believed in, but she did not die from the flames. Her strength, her wisdom, her courage had been enhanced through her magic, through Merlin's magic, and the enemy had learned of its presence and wanted to harness it for their own. She perished in their attempt, and she never knew that she had magic.

The magic then traveled through many people, but it seemed to be focused on one thing and one thing in particular. The babe had to be close to death, or dead, and it was all alone.'

'Wait' I waved my hands about, to as if to clear the air of the story she was spinning. 'this sounds all well and neat, but there is one fatal flaw.'

She raised her brow in question.

'I have two parents, and until recently, I never died. And I am far from alone, I have a dad and I had a wonderful mother,'

'Adoption'

'I look like my MOM,' I emphasized the last part with a wave of my hand.

'That is the beauty of magic.'

I gave her a disbelieving look, even if magic were real, and I am not going to even think for a mili-second that it was, I was a Stilinski through a through. I had similar mannerisms of my dad and I looked exactly like my mom, there was no way for me to be anything but blood….was there. Nara watched as conflicting emotions passed through my face.

'You were probably a stone babe,'

'What,' I asked, glaring at her.

'A stone babe, a child born from wedlock and cast out, usually abandoned in an old cemetery or an overgrown garden. Old superstitions said that the spirits of the souls that long since wandered the earth would hear the child's cry. Being unable to heal the babe, and unable to care for it, the spirits would do the only thing they could do; they would turn it to stone. To release the anguishing spirit and immortalize the body of a damned babe, your father more than likely found you before you were turned. But it is clear to any with sight, you are not of this natural realm, at least, not anymore.'

'What,' That seemed to be my favorite word of late.

'With each death, you become more like your original self, you lose a small part of your…humanity if you will.' With that said she calmly handed me an antique hand mirror.

I honestly didn't know the person looking back at me. Gone were my brown eyes and buzz cut hair, gone was the brown hair. My hair reached to my chin, strains straining to pass it. My eyes were nearing a violet hue, and my whole facial structure was slowly changing, and my hair….I honestly never thought it could be so red, that any hair could be so red without the aid of chemicals.

'I don't look like me,'

'Nay child, this is the first time you are looking like yourself.' Nara countered.

So? What did you guys think? Reviews keep me motivated, just saying :) Hope you enjoyed and if you had any thoughts or suggestions feel free to shoot me a message! Stay warm and enjoy your fall! Until next time - Adieu!