The silver glow of the full moon bathed the Redwood forest, casting light on Damien in his complete shift to Lycan. The energy that flowed through him was tremendous, a raw connection with the wolf that felt both ancient and inherently his own. He strode with a liquid ease, his great paws silent on the forest floor, his senses extending into the night with a unexcelled acrobatics. For the first time, he fully comprehended the potential of his heritage, the naked power that had lain sleeping no more. But even at this peak of enhanced power, a shred of Damien's human mind still lingered, a thread that held back the forces of wolfen nature from completely overwhelming him.
Coralia observed him with pride and an underlining worry. Power was great, but control remained essential. The full moon served to reinforce strength and instinct, making it two-edged for one so new to mastering it. Scott, watching Damien change, experienced a sense of wonder tinged with a dash of jealousy. His own changes were still unpredictable and frequently agonizing, the mastery out of reach. He could see the distinction between his werewolf ability, activated by the bite, and Damien's natural Lycan gift, a birthright.
In Beacon Hills, the full moon hung like a creepy glow over a town on the edge of hysteria. The mounting animal attacks kept the citizens on high alert, terror creeping along the streets. Sheriff Stilinski, with his increasing expertise in the paranormal, moved around day and night, attempting to predict the Darach's next action, to figure out the next community pillar to be attacked. His research took him down more and more disturbing avenues, the presence of ancient symbols at the scenes, an ominous pattern developing that betokened ritual and malevolent purpose.
Stiles, caffeine and growing fear driving him, plumbed the druidic literature, his theories regarding the Nemeton more and more consolidated. He read of its power being tainted, of avenging spirits feeding on its profanation. A horror scenario implanted itself in his head: what if the Darach was not only linked to the Nemeton, but was a product of its tainted energy? He attempted to explain his rapidly escalating theories to Scott and Melissa, his words tending towards hysteria, but the distance and the exigencies of their own paranormal battles rendered mutual communication difficult.
Peter Hale, by the power of the full moon, cemented his pack's devotion, his Alpha ability enhanced, his dominance absolute. He could feel the change in the supernatural dynamics of Beacon Hills, the increasing darkness of the Darach, the rise of a new power with Damien. His territorial senses were heightened. He viewed Damien as not just a possible adversary, but also as a doorway to comprehending an ancient ability that existed before his own werewolf heritage. He started to quietly follow Damien around, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness, watching, waiting for a moment to strike.
As the full moon night progressed, Coralia prodded Damien to test the limits of his Lycan shape, taking him through techniques to help him become faster, more agile, and more in control. He learned to tap into the raw energy of the moon, to direct it through his shifted body, to feel attuned to nature in a way he had never known before. But the human side of him lingered, a voice of reason in the midst of the savage needs, reminding him what he was for, reminding him of Scott and the others.
Abruptly, a tide of raw, searing psychic energy engulfed them, flowing in the direction of Beacon Hills. Coralia reeled, gripping her head, a pitiful moan grating from her throat. Damien, as a Lycan, experienced an electric shock of sheer pain, a psychic shriek which seemed to resonate through his very essence. Scott, with the werewolf sense heightened by the full moon, fell to his knees, gripping his ears, a soundless shriek grating from his throat.
"Darach…" Coralia struggled to get the words out. "She's… she's taken another."
The psychic scream hung in the air, a cold reminder of the Darach's increasing strength. The link to Beacon Hills, the unseen strings that bound them to the town and its people, had just dealt a crushing blow. The security of the Redwood forest seemed to shift suddenly, the distance providing no true sanctuary from the encroaching darkness.
Damien changed back into his human form, the naked power fading, leaving him shivering and full of cold fear. The Darach's pull was spreading, her web of darkness constricting on Beacon Hills. The sacrifices kept on pouring, feeding her powers, and the psychic scream was a grim reminder of their inability to end her. The storm that had been brewing had released its first savage burst, and the tenuous hope that had lit up the moonlight was now in danger of being snuffed out by the closing darkness of the wrathful druid. The battle for Beacon Hills was now a desperate struggle against the clock.