The morning felt different. Not just the physical reality of being sixteen again, or the lingering phantom feeling of a stupendous death, but something deeper. A resonance. As Nikolai showered, he felt that subtle hum again, not painful like yesterday, but a gentle thrum beneath his skin, like his very cells were now aware of something previously hidden.
'Warlock. Right. Witches and warlocks. Magic,' he mulled over, towelling his hair dry. 'Eleanor Ashworth, powerful witch. Nikolai Ashworth, fledgling warlock. My goal: super pack. Plan A: figure out what the hell that hum is and how to use it.'
He dressed quickly, a nervous energy buzzing through him. Today wasn't just another day of school; it was a day of reckoning. He would learn about magic. He had to. The bite was coming tonight. The whole chaotic cascade of the show's plot was about to begin. He needed to understand his power before things spiralled too far out of his control.
He found Eleanor in the kitchen, making tea. She looked calm, serene even, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside him.
"Morning, darling," she said, offering a gentle smile. "Slept better?"
"A bit," he admitted, taking the mug she offered. The ceramic felt warm in his hands, and he briefly felt a faint pulse from it, like a tiny heartbeat. He blinked, looking closer. Just a mug. 'Imagining things already?'
"The buzzing?" Eleanor prompted, her eyes sharp.
He nodded. "Yeah. It's still there. But not painful. More like... background noise. Like the world's humming along."
"Precisely," she confirmed, her smile widening slightly. "It's your connection. Your awareness opening up. Like learning to hear a frequency that was always there, but you couldn't tune into."
They sat at the kitchen table. The air felt charged with expectation.
"So," Nikolai began, leaning forward. "Magic. How does this... work? Wands? Chanting? Pointing and things happen?"
Eleanor chuckled softly, a warm sound. "Less theatrical than the films, darling. Though intention is everything. Our magic is tied to the natural world, to the energy that flows through it, and through us. It's about focus, will, and resonance."
She held out her hand, palm up. "Feel the energy around you, Nikolai. That humming you sense? Try to focus on it. Draw it in."
He closed his eyes, concentrating. He could feel the subtle vibration. He focused on it, trying to imagine it as something tangible, something he could pull towards him. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, he felt a faint warmth in his palm, mirroring his mother's. The humming seemed to intensify, centred on their hands.
He opened his eyes. A faint, almost invisible shimmer of light seemed to emanate from their joined hands. It wasn't much, but it was something.
"See?" Eleanor said quietly. "It's there. It's subtle at first. Like learning to walk again. The core is connecting with the power source – the earth, the air, the life around you – and channelling it through your will."
She withdrew her hand. The shimmer faded. "The pressure you felt yesterday was your system reacting to this latent energy, like an overloaded circuit. Now you're beginning to integrate it."
"So, what's first?" Nikolai asked, feeling a thrill run through him. This was real. He wasn't just planning strategies; he was learning magic.
"First," she said, her expression serious, "is sensing. You need to learn to distinguish different energies. The natural world has one kind. Supernatural creatures have others. Beacon Hills, particularly the Preserve, has a potent, ancient energy."
She paused, her gaze distant for a moment. "There are... currents in this town, Nikolai. Undercurrents of power. And things that feed on them. You felt the pull towards the woods last night, yes?"
He nodded. "Yeah. After lacrosse."
"That was the land responding to the heightened activity," she explained. "Something significant was happening. Or about to happen. Beacon Hills is rarely truly 'quiet'."
'Significant? You have no idea, Mum,' he thought, his mind flashing back to the news headline about the body. The body search. The reason Scott and Stiles would go into the woods tonight.
The walk to school was less overwhelming today. He still felt the hum, but it felt less like noise and more like an awareness. He paid attention to the trees lining the street, the subtle shifts in temperature, the feeling of the ground beneath his feet. He tried to sense the energy Eleanor had described. It was difficult, like trying to see individual threads in a woven tapestry.
At school, he scanned faces again. He saw Scott and Stiles talking animatedly, Stiles' arms flailing as usual. They seemed excited, nervous. They were planning. Planning to find the other half of the body. Planning to go into the woods tonight.
'Tonight,' the word echoed in his mind. 'Tonight is the night the alpha bites Scott. Tonight is the night everything changes.'
He felt a pang of something akin to responsibility. He knew what was coming. Could he stop it? Should he? If Scott didn't get bitten, the entire trajectory of the show, of this reality, would change. The Kanima wouldn't happen, the Darach, the Nogitsune... all of it potentially gone. Was that good? Or would something worse fill the vacuum?
'Besides,' he thought, a practical edge returning to his perspective. 'Stopping it would be incredibly difficult. How would I even explain? 'Hey, guys, I know you're going into the woods to find a body, but a werewolf is going to bite your friend, and he'll become a reluctant hero, and you'll become his sidekick who's good at research and gets possessed by an evil spirit later, so maybe don't go?' Yeah, they'd totally believe that.'
No, direct intervention seemed too risky, too complicated. His goal wasn't to play protector of the canon timeline. It was to build his own power base. Let the werewolf plot unfold; he'd navigate it with magic.
He focused his sensing again, trying to feel the energy around the school. It was a confusing mix – the nervous energy of students, the low hum of technology, the deeper, stranger currents he now associated with Beacon Hills itself. He felt a distinct spike of something near Scott and Stiles, a nervous, excited energy that seemed almost... drawn outwards.
'They're practically radiating anticipation,' he observed. 'Like magnets being pulled towards something.'
He made it through the school day. Lacrosse practice was still a struggle, but he was slightly less awful. He focused his nascent sensing ability outwards, trying to feel the energy of the players, the field. It was chaotic, sweaty energy, nothing like the natural hum of the land or the strange pull towards the woods.
Leaving school, he saw Scott and Stiles near Stiles' jeep, still talking intently. Scott looked apprehensive, Stiles determined. The stage was set.
Back home, the atmosphere was different. Eleanor had lit a few candles, not for light, but for ambience, and maybe for something else. The air in the living room felt thicker, warmer.
"Tonight," she said, her voice quiet but firm as he settled onto the sofa, "we try something a little more focused."
She had a small, smooth stone in her hand. "This is obsidian. It grounds energy. Focus on the stone. Feel its connection to the earth. Then, focus your intent. Try to make it move."
Nikolai took the stone. It felt cool and solid. He held it in his palm, closing his eyes. He focused on the hum inside him, the energy he felt connecting to the world outside. He focused on the stone, imagining it vibrating, lifting, moving.
He concentrated, pouring his will into the simple object. He felt the faint warmth again, the slight intensifying of the hum. He pictured the stone lifting.
Nothing happened.
He tried again, straining, furrowing his brow. He felt a pressure building behind his eyes, that familiar precursor to pain.
"Relax, darling," Eleanor said softly. "Don't force it. Guide it."
He took a deep breath, releasing the tension. He focused again, not straining, but gently coaxing the energy. He felt a faint shift. The stone didn't move, but it felt… lighter in his hand.
'Okay, progress?'
"Try sensing something specific," Eleanor instructed. "The candle flame. Feel its energy. The warmth, the light. Try to make it flicker, just slightly, using only your will."
He turned his attention to a nearby candle. The small flame danced independently. He focused on it, trying to feel its energy, its heat. He pushed his will towards it, imagining it wavering.
For a second, nothing. Then, the flame jumped, a sudden, sharp spike before settling back down.
Nikolai gasped, eyes wide. He'd done that. He'd actually done that.
A wave of dizziness washed over him. He felt suddenly drained, the hum inside him fading to a whisper.
"Easy, easy," Eleanor said quickly, reaching out. "You used too much energy. It takes practice to control the flow. That's why we start small."
He leaned back, feeling shaky. "Wow."
"Yes, 'wow'," she agreed, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's exhilarating, isn't it? And draining. You'll build stamina. But you see? You have the connection. You have the potential."
He nodded, still trying to catch his breath. He could move things. Affect the physical world with his mind, his will, his magic. This was more than sensing. This was active power.
'This changes everything,' he thought, the strategic part of his brain kicking into overdrive. 'Sensing supernaturals, influencing events subtly, maybe even direct combat later? This is how you build a super pack.'
He looked at Eleanor. "You said Beacon Hills is dangerous. Why did we come here?"
Her expression grew serious again. "For several reasons. To teach you. To protect you as your abilities manifest in this… charged environment. And because," she paused, choosing her words carefully, "Beacon Hills is a nexus. A place where significant supernatural events occur. The Ashworths have always been drawn to such places. Sometimes to observe. Sometimes to... influence."
Influence. That word resonated deeply with Nikolai's own goals.
"There are things happening in Beacon Hills now, Nikolai," she continued, her gaze intense. "Things that are waking up. The feeling you had near the woods… it was significant. Keep your senses open tonight. Especially after dark. Feel the energy. Listen to the hum. It might tell you things."
Nikolai knew exactly what was happening tonight. Scott and Stiles were going into the Preserve. Scott was going to get bitten. The alpha – Peter Hale – would be out there.
He could feel the pull of the Preserve even now, a distant, growing intensity in the hum. It was like a drumbeat, growing steadily louder.
He wasn't ready to stop the bite. He wasn't ready to confront an alpha or involve himself directly in the initial chaos. He needed more practice. He needed to understand his magic better. But he could observe. He could sense. He could learn.
"Okay, Mum," he said, pushing himself upright, feeling the weariness but also a strange sense of purpose. "I'll listen to the hum."
He knew the show's plot. He knew where Scott and Stiles were going. He knew, roughly, what would happen. Now, he had a new layer of awareness. He could feel the supernatural world waking up around him, a world he was now intrinsically a part of.
As night fell over Beacon Hills, and Scott McCall reluctantly followed his best friend into the dark, ominous woods in search of a dead body, Nikolai Ashworth sat in his room, eyes closed, listening. Listening to the ancient hum of the land, to the stirrings of magic in his veins, and to the distant, gathering storm of supernatural power that was about to break.
He was a warlock in a town of wolves. And the hunt was just beginning.