"𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒹ℴ𝓌𝓃 𝓌ℯ 𝑔ℴ"

Overhearing Melissa, Rafael, and Stiles' conversation, Ophelia had found out they were, rightfully so, taking the boy to the hospital. After all, he had been outside for multiple hours in a numbingly cold environment. So the wolf had tapped her best friend's nose once more before departing from the trio, returning to her home for a fresh change of clothes, then speeding back to the hospital where she would find her car, phone, and group of friends that she would dare call family. She was most looking forward to give Stiles a proper hug. She's just as worried and curious as everyone else as to why he had ended up in the coyote den in the first place.

Melissa would later tell her that her ex-husband had concluded that Stiles had been sleepwalking the entire time. He had never actually woken up. It still doesn't make any sense as to why he had said he was in a basement... That had Ophelia stumped. Especially when Lydia had her banshee side telling her that the boy was in Eichen house, when he really wasn't. The whole situation is beyond confusing. But right now, all that matters is that Stiles is safe.

Ophelia races through the corridors of the hospital, following the faint sounds of Lydia and Scott's voices up ahead. She could walk through this building with her eyes closed by now, she knows the entire map of it by heart. The second she spots her best friends, a sigh of relief leaves her lips. Scott's head snaps up at the sound of a racing heartbeat and his eyes widen at the sight of the blonde. "Fi!" He quickly rushes over to her, Lydia hot on his heels. "Are you okay? What happened? I mean, my mom said you were there when they found him-"

"I'm okay," she interrupts with a small chuckle. "I was following his scent..." She hesitates for a single second as she debates on whether to tell them about the voice and the riddles. Tomorrow. "And I guess your mum and dad somehow figured out where he was, too."

Lydia gives her a small smile as she wraps the girl into a short hug. "I'm glad you're all right," she whispers. Ophelia squeezes her shoulders.

"Yeah, my dad figured out where he was from your phone calls," Scott explains.

Her eyes widen. "I'm sorry, how the fuck did your dad get a copy of the call?"

The True Alpha grimaces. "Well, uh, he's the FBI... and, well..."

"They got access to a record of it," Lydia finishes.

Ophelia's eyes glow a dull red as she catches sight of Rafael McCall conversing with Melissa further down the corridor. "No offence, Scott, but I hated your dad already. Now, well, now -"

Before she can finish her sentence, the group's attention falls onto Noah Stilinski as he approaches, a relieved and grateful expression adorning his face. "He's sleeping now," he tells them. "And he's just fine. He doesn't remember much, it's a bit like a dream to him." He turns to McCall. "Thank you."

"It was that repellent we sprayed in the coyote den to keep other animals out," the man begins. "I couldn't go near it without my eyes watering."

Ophelia rolls her eyes. "Pussy," she mutters. Lydia bites onto her lip to stop herself from grinning.

"It's just a good thing he mentioned it over the phone."

The Sheriff shakes his head. "No, it was more than that," he states. "Thank you."

"It was a lucky connection."

Noah stares at him in exasperation. "McCall, can you shut up please and accept my sincerest gratitude?"

With a sigh, he extends his arm and the two shake hands. "Accepted."

Melissa looks to the three teenagers with a small smile. "All right, you guys. You've got school in less than six hours. Go home, go to sleep." She embraces her son briefly, and her eyes linger on the hybrid a little longer. Melissa gives Ophelia a subtle nod of appreciation. The girl smiles back.

Once they're alone, Ophelia notices the frown on the strawberry blonde's face. "Hey, what's wrong?" she asks in concern.

"I don't know what happened," Lydia says quietly as they walk. "I was so sure."

"You mean Eichen?"

Lydia nods at the girl. "There was just... I had a feeling." Ophelia takes her hand.

Scott sighs. "Yeah, I wasn't much help either," he admits. "Doesn't matter if he's okay," he tries to reassure her.

Ophelia's eyes fill with worry at how Lydia doesn't seem to find any comfort in his words. She seems stressed. Maybe disappointed in herself? Then the banshee stops walking and turns slightly to look behind her. Her head swivels around as if she's trying to find something. "Lyds, what is it?"

"Do you hear something?" Scott questions.

Lydia hesitates for a few moments. "No," she answers. "I didn't hear anything."

Ophelia's eyes narrow slightly. Her heart had jumped. She's lying. But why? Perhaps she would find the answer if Scott wasn't with them. Once they reach the parking lot, the hybrid offers to drive the strawberry blonde home, and the three bid each other goodbyes before parting ways. The doors to the Porsche close. The two girls sit in silence for a minute. Ophelia turns in her seat to study her best friend. "What's going on?" she asks gently, treading as lightly as she can so she doesn't cause Lydia to snap.

"Nothing," she whispers back. Ophelia arches a brow and she sighs. "It's just... Fi, he was there. And I know he wasn't actually there, but... I was so fucking sure."

The blonde-haired girl's brows draw together in thought. "Okay," she finally says.

Lydia's lips part in surprise. "Wait, you believe me?"

"Of course I believe you. Why wouldn't I? You're literally never wrong about these things. If you say he was somehow there, then he was." Ophelia's lips purse together. "Okay, he was sleepwalking, right? So if he was sleepwalking, he must have been dreaming... or whatever, I don't know how these things work."

"What are you trying to say?"

"When Stiles called me, he said he was in a basement. An industrial basement. And I'm assuming that Eichen's basement is fairly... industrial?" Lydia slowly nods her head, still thoroughly confused. "Just because he wasn't physically there..."

The banshee's eyes widen as realisation falls upon her. "He was there in his dream," she murmurs.

Ophelia nods. "I think so," she agrees. "It explains why you thought he was there, you just thought that he was actually there. You weren't wrong, Lyds," she adds softly.

A tear falls down Lydia's cheek. "Thank you," she says.

"For what?"

"For believing in me," Lydia replies softly. "For never giving up on me."

Ophelia's lips lift into a warm smile. "Love, I'm never giving up on you, okay? Always and forever."

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Six hours later, Ophelia walks through the halls of Beacon Hills High School. She's not here for school, definitely not. She's way too preoccupied to be thinking about maths... One, she's so worried about Stiles, she thinks she might have a heart attack. Two, she can't stop thinking about that damn riddle. And three, whilst driving Lydia home earlier that morning, the strawberry blonde had confessed that she hadn't heard nothing like she had proclaimed to Scott. Actually, she had heard a loud, repetitive clanging noise, like a hammer smashing down onto an anvil. They had talked about it in detail for the rest of the car ride, but neither of the girls could suggest what it could possibly represent. Most of the time, Lydia's auditory premonitions are what the cause of death will be. For Kira, it had been electricity. Ophelia can't think for the life of her what the clanging could be. Death by... a hammer?

When she finally finds Lydia at her locker, she is flinching at almost every sound created around her. She's clearly still on edge from the events that had occurred within the lasts twelve hours. With a frown of concern, Ophelia gently lays a hand on her friend's shoulder. Lydia jumps at the contact and spins around, relaxing ever so slightly when she sees who it is. "Lydia, are you okay?"

The girl struggles to remain still as locker doors continue slamming. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she says. Clearly, she hadn't been convincing. She softly sighs at Ophelia's pointed look. "Okay, no, not really," she corrects quietly. Lydia closes her own locker and the pair begin the walk to find Scott. "I'm just really on edge."

Ophelia's eyebrows furrow, making sure to keep an eye on the girl in her peripheral vision. "Do you mean you're still hearing that sound?" she questions.

Lydia swallows and gives a brief nod. "Yeah," she confirms. "Everything sounds like it..."

As they pass by a classroom with its door closed, the hybrid falters for a second. There are people inside. Ophelia strains her supernatural hearing as she continues on with Lydia. "I have no idea... Because it's fake." She recognises that voice. Their history teacher; Kira's father. He's talking with Allison and Isaac. "It mentions the name of the internment camp as 'Oak Creek.' There was no internment camp named 'Oak Creek' in California." Ophelia's throat runs dry. Oak Creek. She's never heard of it before in her life. But somehow it sounds so familiar to her. It's like she's been there in person. Which is impossible because she's never been there, especially if it's not real. It's like there are memories buried within the deepest depths of her mind and are slowly, incredibly slowly, resurfacing.

"Fi? Hey, are you okay?"

Her head snaps over to Lydia and she quickly nods. "Yeah, sorry, just overhead a conversation, I..." Her eyebrows draw together then she smiles. "Sorry, never mind." Ophelia loops her arm through Lydia's. "Hey, look! There's wolf-boy. Scott!"

The werewolf smiles as he sees the pair approaching, however, it falters once he notices Lydia's demeanour. Despite trying to convince everyone she's calm and okay, her eyes flick around anxiously, almost in a paranoid matter, and parts of her body flinch at different noises. "You okay?" he asks in worry.

"Yeah," Lydia replies, not looking at either of her friends. "I'm just a little hyper-sensitive to loud sounds today." She's not completely lying. The strawberry blonde jumps once more. Ophelia watches Scott look at the banshee for a few seconds, and she realises that he knows Lydia isn't telling the full truth. Ophelia had thought that she had managed to reassure Lydia about her problems doubting her abilities because she couldn't find Stiles. Maybe she hadn't.

Scott doesn't press the matter any further as he grabs a pile of textbooks out of his locker. "They're, uh, they're doing tests on Stiles all afternoon," he informs the girls. "I was going to go over at around six to visit. Either of you want to come with me?"

Ophelia immediately agrees. She had been worried to even leave Stiles alone this morning for school, even if he's at the hospital. "Definitely," she responds firmly. "I'll drive us."

They turn to Lydia. "... I should probably just go home," she says. She suddenly presses herself up against the locker behind her, eyes wide in fright.

Scott and Ophelia share a look. "You sure you're okay?" he asks Lydia in concern.

Lydia finally turns her head to lay her eyes on her friends. "Yeah," she answers nonchalantly. "I'll text you later." She gives the hybrid a small, tight-lipped smile before turning away and walking down the corridor, still flinching as she goes.

Scott shuts the door to his locker and turns to his best friend. "Okay, what's going on?" he asks as they walk to English.

She sighs. She's aware that Lydia hadn't told Scott, for whatever reason. But if she's experiencing another prediction, a prediction of death, Ophelia has to mention it. "She, well, she was hearing clanging when we left the hospital this morning," she tells him quietly. "So, yeah, she's on edge."

The boy's eyes widen. "Wait, what? Why didn't she say anything?"

She gives him a sad smile. "I think not being able to find Stiles took a bit of a toll on her. I thought I had managed to convince her that she wasn't... you know, wrong or, I don't know, a bad banshee or something?" She sighs once more. Ophelia turns back around to see Lydia bursting through the double doors outside. "But I think it's a good idea if we keep an eye on her."

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

After forcing herself to stay and sit through the rest of the school day to accompany Scott (Lydia had repeatedly messaged her and told her she was fine and that she wanted time alone), Ophelia finally parks her Porsche in the parking lot of the hospital. She takes the keys out of the engine and stares straight ahead. "You ready?"

Scott takes a deep breath. "Yeah, you?"

"No, but that doesn't really matter, does it?"

He closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the leather seat. "I guess not really..." Scott inhales a sharp breath. "He needs to be okay, Fi." Ophelia quickly turns to look at him as his voice cracks. "I can't lose him," he whispers.

She doesn't wait another second to pull the boy into a tight embrace. "I know," she murmurs. "I know." She feels a tear land on her shirt from Scott's cheek. "We're going to get through this," she says firmly, holding onto his shoulders. "Okay? We're going to get through this. All of us."

Scott nods. "Yeah," he agrees quietly. "Whatever this is... Whatever it is, we deal with it together." Her lips twitch into a small smile at his sudden determination. "You're my family now."

Ophelia places her hand over his. "C'mon, let's go."

Ten minutes later, they find themselves in the MRI room they had been given directions to. Stiles sits on the bed in his hospital gown, his leg bouncing uncontrollably as he keeps his eyes cast onto the ground. Melissa and Noah stand to the side as the doctor speaks with the Sheriff and goes over the last few pieces of paperwork. "I'm not sure I know how to pronounce this," the doctor says slowly. "Or if it's not actually a misspelling."

"Just call him Stiles," Noah Stilinski informs.

The man nods with pursed lips and closes the patient file as he turns around to the group of teenagers. "Stiles, just to warn you, you're going to hear a lot of noise during the MRI," he begins, stopping in front of them. "It's due to pulses of electricity going through metal coils inside the machine. Uh, if you want we can get you some earplugs or headphones?"

"Oh, no, no, I don't need anything," Stiles dismisses with a shake of his head.

"Hey, we're just on the other side of that window," his father tells him. "Okay?"

"Okay." Both Melissa and Noah give him comforting smiles and Stiles pats his dad on the shoulder as they leave. However, Scott and Ophelia stay behind. Once the door closes behind the doctor, Stiles lifts his head to look between his best friends who had remained silent throughout the exchange. "You know what they're looking for, right?" Ophelia thickly swallows. She has an idea where this is going. "It's called frontotemporal dementia. Areas of your brain start to shrink." Stiles is silent for a few beats. "It's what my mother had. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers... and there's no cure."

Scott closes his eyes to try and keep his tears at bay. The room is quiet for a few seconds. "Stiles, if you have it, we'll do something." Stiles remains staring at the wall in front of him. Scott turns his head to look at the boy. "I'll do something." They stare at each other, both with tears in their eyes. Then Stiles grabs onto Scott and pulls him into a hug so filled with emotion Ophelia chokes up.

As they stay in the embrace for a few moments, she understands the gravity of Scott's words as she wipes her own tear away. He means that, worst comes to worst, he would bite Stiles. Ophelia knew that her vampire blood wouldn't treat him, and even if there was a slight chance that it would, she wouldn't dare risk it. But this? Werewolf bites had been known to miraculously cure injuries and diseases. It had been proven, time and time again. If Stiles really does have frontotemporal dementia, either her or Scott biting him would cure him. They could save him.

As the pair of boys step away from each other, Scott locks eyes with her and nods subtly. "I'm just gonna be out in the hallway, okay?"

Stiles gives him a small smile. As the werewolf walks out the room, Ophelia moves over so she's sitting beside her best friend on the bed on the MRI table. Neither of them say a word for at least a minute. Just her presence, silent or not, brings him so much comfort. Stiles quickly brushes away his tears that have fallen. "I'm scared, Fi," he says quietly, staring straight ahead. "I'm so fucking scared."

Ophelia grabs onto his hand and tightly squeezes it. "I know," she replies softly. "I am, too. But Scott's right. If you have this, we're going to help you." She turns to look him in the eyes. "I'm going to do everything and anything I can to help you, okay?"

The boy's lip wobbles slightly. "Okay," he whispers. "Thank you."

Ophelia Stone wraps him into the second hug he's had in the last few minutes. Stiles clutches onto her leather jacket as tears continue to stream down his cheeks. "I love you," she speaks up. "You know that, yeah?"

He nods against her shoulder. "Love you, too."

She gives him a gentle smile, as reassuring as she can be in a situation like this. "You got this, bud," she tells him. Then she walks into the observation room with Melissa, Noah, and the doctor. After last night, she's not leaving the boy out of her sight. Unless she has eyes on him, she's going to be in the ER on the ground floor having a panic attack. Both parents give her a small smile and Melissa wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into her side.

As the table slides into the MRI machine, the doctor speaks into the microphone beside him which exits out of a speaker inside the machine. "Okay, Stiles. This will take about forty-five minutes to an hour." Ophelia can't help but smile as she hears him cracking his neck at the same time as the next words are spoken, "Now remember, try not to move. Even just a little bit." From the camera on one of the computer screens, they watch Stiles still. "Stiles, you're going to hear that noise now. It's going to be a loud clanging. Kind of like a hammer hitting an anvil."

Ophelia's blood runs cold. As heavy sound begins within the MRI, realisation fully sets in. It can't be a coincidence that Lydia had been hearing a 'loud clanging noise.' But does that mean Stiles is going to die from the MRI? Is something going to happen whilst he's having the scan? She needs to talk to Scott. She can hear him out in the hallway having a conversation with... Derek? Or she needs to grab her phone out of the pocket in her jeans and call Lydia.

But she can't move. She can't move a muscle. It's like her feet have been glued down to the floor, the rest of her limbs tied down with thick rope or tape. It's like an invisible string has been tied around her then tethered to something behind. Her eyes widen in fear. It's exactly like the woods.

Twenty minutes pass. No one in the room speaks aside from the doctor occasionally checking in with Stiles. Another twenty-five of silence. Ophelia still can't move. And to her absolute horror, she can't talk. Whenever she tries to open her mouth, no words come out. Her throat is impossibly dry. Something is really, really wrong. She knows it is. She knows that something is going to happen to Stiles. And the worst part is that she can't do anything about it.

Eventually, the MRI scans are pulled up on one of the computers. The grim and disappointed expression on the doctor's face is enough. He points to the warmer colours on the brain scan. "See this? The tissue here and there. Both those spots are showing signs of atrophy." Nothing else needs to be said.

Melissa closes her eyes as the news begins to sink in to the father of the boy in the room next to them. "Atrophy," Noah repeats.

"I'm sorry."

Ophelia can only watch the devastatingly expression on Stilinski's face. It's like his heart has been ripped out of his body. She watches Melissa console him as she puts a hand on his back. A single tear trails out of Ophelia's eye. When the nurse turns to her, her own eyes raw and red, she hugs her. But when the girl doesn't move or utter a word, Melissa takes it as shock. As grief.

All Ophelia wants to do is scream.

As the doctor begins to speak to the adults once more, she tunes it out. She looks out the large glass window overseeing the MRI room. All of a sudden, she feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Goosebumps cover Ophelia's entire body as she stares at Stiles. She can only see his feet, but even then, she knows something's severely wrong. The lights above flicker and the faint sound of electricity crackling is heard. As the adults beside her startle in surprise, Ophelia's irises glow. She looks Stiles Stilinski in the eyes. Her heart races like a dozen thoroughbreds thundering down a track. The corners of his lips curl upward into a smirk as his eyes bore into her soul.

This isn't Stiles.

Then he walks out the room. It's as if he knows that she can't do a damn thing to stop him. Within the observation room, the lights suddenly stop flashing. "What was that?" Melissa questions in confusion.

"It sounded like a power surge," the doctor answers, not as nearly concerned as he should be.

Ophelia Stone gasps for air like she's been deprived of oxygen her entire life. Melissa spins around to her in worry, but the girl feels her toes twitch and she barges out the room. Scott and Derek are no longer in the corridor. She's just close enough to hear Noah Stilinski's booming yell. "Where's my son? Where the hell is my son?"

The hybrid pushes people aside in the bustling hallway as the hospital's staff tries to figure out what is causing yet another 'power surge.' The scent of Stiles is fresh in her nose. She can almost smell his blood despite being surrounded by thousands of litres of it. She needs to get to him. None of this is a coincidence. Within the mix of the chaos and hysteria around her, she finds him. It's his heartbeat. Strangely, it's calm. Not racing. Deadly calm.

Ophelia turns a corner and stops at what she finds at the end of the corridor. She quickly backsteps so she can peer subtly around the wall to see what's happening. Standing inside the open elevator is a woman she hasn't seen before. But she looks familiar. She looks like Kira. Her mother, it has to be. Stiles stands impeccably still as he stares at her. Both are just as calm as the other. The woman, with her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, arches a brow as Stiles starts to slowly walk toward her, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know me," she calls out. He dips his head. "Then you remember that I won't be deterred by your choice of host. Even if it's an innocent boy."

Even from her hidden position and how she can't see his face, Ophelia can picture the smirk on his lips. "Are you threatening us?" he queries. The girl's brows pinch together in confusion. Us? Then her face falls. Who are we? That had been the question spoken to her in the Preserve.

Lights flicker overhead, and suddenly, two dark figures materialise out of thin air. Covered in black armour and metallic masks over their faces, they look like they're made from shadows. They aren't human. Far from it. They stand behind Noshiko Yukimura almost in a protective manner, like they're ready to slaughter for her at the click of her fingers. "Now I'm threatening you," she corrects.

Stiles chuckles. "We're not really afraid of your little fireflies." There it is again. The use of 'we.' He turns around and blends in with the frantic nurses and doctors rushing about behind them who have barely taken notice of the exchange.

"If the oni can't defeat you," the dark-haired woman calls out. "I know someone who will."

This stops the teenage boy in his tracks. He turns his head to the side to see her glaring at him with determination. He smirks once more and continues down the hall as the elevator doors close. Ophelia's eyes blaze crimson whilst she steps around the corner. All of her supernatural features adorn her face and body as she stares down her best friend. "Who the bloody hell are you and what have you done with Stiles?"

Stiles pauses. His head tilts to the side slightly. "Ah," he says simply. His lips purse as his eyes trail down to her fingers where there are claws instead of nails. "Well, I thought you'd be out of it for a bit longer..." He kisses his teeth. "But here we are."

A vicious growl rips through her throat as she takes another step toward him. "Who the fuck are you?" she repeats, her voice low but sharp enough like a dagger. She wants to claw his throat out. But she can't. Because it's Stiles.

He smiles. It's not the smile she's so used to, the one that is such a comfort. This is sardonic. Ophelia has seen a lot of evil throughout her life. And this smile? This smile is the epitome of evil. "The better question is, 'Who are we?'" The boy darts forward with an inhumanely speed. Not as fast as a vampire, but perhaps almost just as fast as a werewolf. He locks eyes with her once more. God she wants to punch that damn smirk off his face. "You'll see us soon, Ophelia. And this is going to be fun."

And it's then that she realises that all of this is connected. The voice in her mindscape. The voice in the woods yesterday. All of the riddles they've been given- that she's been given. It all started during the ritual sacrifice. It all leads back to the Nemeton. Stiles reaches a hand out to gently graze his fingers over her cheek. She flinches. Ophelia feels darkness spread throughout her body. It's the darkness Alan Deaton warned them about. But this time, it isn't cold. It isn't scary. The darkness warms her.

Then her neck is snapped.

𝘢𝘮 𝘪 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘶𝘴? 𝘪 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘶𝘴...