Chapter Text
The blinding green light faded slowly, leaving the cottage shrouded in silence. Smoke and the faint smell of singed wood lingered in the air as Stiles blinked, his vision clearing to reveal the aftermath.
The shadow creature was gone—dissipated into nothing—but the toll of its attack was written all over the room. Derek stood just a few feet away, his red alpha eyes dimming back to their usual stormy gray as he scanned the area for any remaining threat. His chest heaved with barely-contained energy, his claws still extended.
Stiles stood in the middle of the room, his glowing hand raised, trembling as the sigil dimmed. The hum of the magic still coursing through him was both electric and nauseating, like a storm he couldn’t fully control.
“Well,” Stiles muttered, breaking the silence. “That sucked.”
Rowena emerged from behind the table, brushing soot from her coat and giving Stiles an appraising look. “Sucked, perhaps, but effective. You banished it, didn’t you?”
“Sure,” Stiles said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Banished it. Totally meant to do that. Definitely didn’t almost pass out in the process.”
Derek growled low in his throat, stepping closer to Stiles. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking, ‘Don’t die,’” Stiles snapped, lowering his hand. “Mission accomplished, by the way. You’re welcome.”
“You don’t just throw yourself into something like that without knowing what you’re doing,” Derek growled, his tone harsh but edged with something else—fear.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Stiles shot back. “Did I miss the part where you handed me the Supernatural Survival for Dummies manual? Because I didn’t see one lying around.”
“Enough,” Rowena said sharply, cutting through their argument. She stepped between them, her gaze flicking between Stiles and Derek with a faint smirk. “If the two of you are done posturing, perhaps we can focus on the larger issue.”
Derek’s scowl deepened, but he fell silent, stepping back to give her space.
“The shadow creature was a construct,” Rowena explained, moving to the center of the room. “A manifestation of the grimoire’s power, sent to test its bond with you.” She turned to Stiles, her sharp eyes narrowing. “And you passed.”
“Yay,” Stiles said weakly, dropping into a chair. “What’s my prize? More terrifying ghost monsters?”
Rowena ignored the sarcasm, her expression serious. “The grimoire’s connection to you is growing stronger, but it’s still incomplete. Whatever force created that creature will try again—and next time, it won’t be so easily banished.”
“Great,” Stiles muttered, running a hand through his hair. “So we’re back to square one: figure out why the grimoire likes me so much before it decides to eat my soul.”
“Exactly,” Rowena said, her tone clipped. “And if you want to survive, you’ll need to embrace the magic.