At Our Ex-Spence

At Our Ex-Spence: Chapter #17

June is the month Stiles dedicates entirely to his training. His Aunt Klarysa and his cousin Spencer work with him for hours every single day. Peter will often hang around in his full shift form, something he gained thanks to the mate bond and new alpha spark.

Stiles grimaces as the tree finally levitates to an upright position once more. Then he gets the wind knocked out of him as Spencer sweeps his feet out from under him. "FUCK!" he says through gritted teeth.

Spencer stands and offers his little cousin a hand. Stiles just shoves it away and shakes his head, pushing himself to his feet. He only sways a little before heading towards another tree. "Again."

Klarysa lets him blow off some steam for a couple hours as she tells Peter her plan. He reluctantly doesn't stop them when she directs an exhausted Stiles to walk with her.

As the spark and the Wrażliwy na aurę become mere specks in the distance, Spencer plops down onto the porch with no grace whatsoever.

Peter tilts his head. "He's not going to get better if he doesn't find a way out of this whole mental state that he's currently drowning in."

Spencer quirks a brow and gulps in several gulps of air, said air filling his lungs over and over again. "Yeah. Well, that's what mother is going to help with. He's got all the raw ability that is limitless, but he's just stuck. It happens to all magic users at some point."

"I remember my mother's emissary dealing with something of the same. Hers was more the loss of her husband and child in a car wreck. Nothing could be done about it. Her magic could not bring them back. If not for my mother, she might very well have killed herself to join them."

"Lucky for her she had your mother then," Spencer says quietly, his eyes focused on the direction in which the two magic users disappeared.

Peter tilts his head in a slight nod. "Indeed."

✶ 🔎 ❤︎ 🔍 ✶

While Klarysa's home seems rather isolated and very deep in a forest, there is another smaller cabin even deeper in that only she visits. The foliage is thick and disorienting. Not even the sun shines through. It's not long before Stiles finds himself lost. He could've sworn she was right in front of him. His heart starts to beat faster as he spins around. "Ciocia Klarysa?"

There is no response and that's when he starts to truly panic. Silence and darkness are his worst fears since the Nogitsune. Just as his vision starts to blur, he hears an echo in his mind.

"Mieszko."

"Ciocia Klarysa?" he chokes out and turns, trying to find the voice.

The trees begin to sway as a rough wind picks up. Stiles's eyes go wide in terror as a shadow seemingly emerges from the trunk of a tree.

"Little Mieszko," the shadow hisses. "So much fear. You should be afraid."

Stiles steps back, his eyes never leaving the one who still haunts him even now years after the possession. He remembers every second of being a puppet. Though they at first believed he would start killing other people, that is not what happened.

No, the demon took pleasure in breaking Stiles's mind piece by piece. Such a young spark with no training or protections in place made for the perfect plaything. So, he turned his chaos inward.

"Y-You're not real," Stiles says, his voice so soft it's almost inaudible. "I-I defeated you!"

The shadow sways and then smirks, the rotten teeth sharpening dangerously. "We cannot be defeated little boy. What threat are you to us? Us who has been alive since dawn of time? It is we who own you."