Chapter 1: Going to the Past
Stiles is determined to save them all. No matter what the cost may be.
The moonlight shinned bright over the clearing that the Nemeton, now a flourishing tree, resides. Branches overhang in the clearing, creating a mass of dancing shadows as the branches swayed in the cool breezy night. From the shadows stepped out a hooded figure in a red hooded sweatshirt. The shadows clung to the figure momentarily, before gradually slipping free, like one would shake water off, as they stepped into the dim silvery light of the moon.
“You went far and wide to get me here, Mieczysław,” a female figure voice spoke from the other side of the clearing. This figure was shadowed in an emerald green cloak. Her voice husky and lit with a soft accent, that rang like a melody in the quiet of the clearing. “Why would one such as yourself, have need for me?” She asked curiously. Black leather boots were quiet against the floor as she meandered slowly around the tree, until she was faced with Mieczysław Stilinski.
Mieczysław “Stiles” Stilinski lowered the hood covering his face, permitting the other to finally see his face. Amber brown eyes glowed with an inner power, making it appear as if sparks of gold danced in his eyes. His pale skin was near sickly, washed out with a tiredness that belated an age he wasn’t. He stood unnaturally still and stiff, as if barely holding himself together as his beautiful eyes stared at the woman across from him.
“I have reason to believe you already know, Enchantress,” Stiles replies with thin lips as he connected eyes with the shadows of the High Witch across from him. “I need your help and you’re the only one who can help me,” he said with a regretful undertone to his voice. If he could, he’d have never summoned her. He would have left her to have her peace in the afterlife, but he had no other choice. She was the only one with enough power, strength, and connection to those he wanted to help and save, to pull this off.
“Yes, you used Dark and Old magic to get me here,” the Enchantress replied. She had been banned from appearing before him once, when he had first tried to summon her. It wasn’t until she was able to give him a little nudge in the right direction, that she could appear before him, as she had now.
The Enchantress raised her pale creamy hands up to the hood covering her head. With a soft grip on the rims, she lowered it and finally allowed the younger man to see the beautiful visage that had been hidden beneath the green cloaks hood. Creamy pale skin appeared to glow in the dim moonlight. Her hair was the color of the deepest black and fell in ringlet curls around her face and to her shoulders. Brilliant emerald green eyes stared from beneath thick black eyelashes that enhanced the beautiful greens of her eyes. There was a casual elegance and beauty about the witch before Stiles, that caught numerous male and females alike, attention.
Stiles could see why Peter had fallen so hard for his wife: Hartleigh Juniper Hale nee Potter. Not only was she beautiful, but she was powerful, strong, intelligent, compassionate, fierce, and numerous other descriptors. From the minimum that Derek and Peter have ever spoken about their family, whenever Hartleigh “Harley” Hale was brought into conversation, it was with difficulty and mainly good things to be said about her. She had died with the other Hales, having been burned alive like the rest of their family. The stories of that night, that the remaining Hales who had survived and been in the house had said, Harley had attempted to save the children with Peter. In the end, she had only succeeded in saving four members of their family, at the sake of her own life.
Only Peter, Laura, Derek, Jackson, Malia, and Cora survived the fire. From what he had learned overtime growing up, from the stories he’d been told and gossip heard through town, Jackson had been taken in by the Whittemore's to live with them. He’d been twelve-years-old at the time of the fire, and already a partial orphan. His mother had died in the fire trying to save them and his father was comatose. No one else had been willing to take him in. Not a child damaged from such traumatizing experiences, except for Hermione Whittemore nee Granger, wife of David Whittemore, and best friend to Harley Hale nee Potter. Malia had been taken in by the Tate’s, as Evelyn Tate nee Prewitt had also been a friend of Harley. Malia had also been in the same boat as her brother, Jackson. No one had wanted to take in the partial orphan who had been through a traumatic incident that left the eight-year-old a mess of emotions and nightmares. That wasn’t to say the siblings never got to see each other, but they were forced to see counseling for what they had been through.
“You desire to change what has come to pass,” Harley mused with a sad smile gracing her pink glossy lips. “It comes at a great cost, Mieczysław,” she warned with green eyes turning dark as she stared into amber brown. “Are you prepared for those consequences?” She asked rhetorically. “You will be the focus of the spell, to allow us to break the boundaries of past, present, and future,” the once breezy wind began to strengthen as it become fierce. “To break the very fabric of time, is a daunting and dangerous thing indeed,” a smile grew across her lips again, and then she chuckled in amusement at the stubborn expression on his face. He was so much like his mother, Claudia. Mieczysław had such a willingness, strength, and power swirling within him to try and save her family and those he considered his family. A warm and regretful expression graced her beautiful features as she considered the young man before her. He had no idea what the consequences for his actions were going to be. She only hoped he was willing to endure it.
“I’m prepared. As prepared as I can be with what I want to do. I’ve gained all the information I could to prepare myself,” Stiles said as he nervously rubbed his hands. He held his body at an angle as he fought against the growing wind speed. The trees surrounding him rustled their leaves and howled in his ears. It was as if someone or something already knew what they were about to do.
“So be it,” Harley states. It held an ironclad finalization to it. A ringing beneath her voice that deemed it final.
With abrupt movements, Stiles quickly set out the objects that were needed for the ritual. The candles, herbs, pentagram, chalice, and many other things were laid out in a particular manner. With quiet footsteps, Harley came to a stop on the other side of the ritual circle. Her green eyes scanned over the young man across from her again, taking him in. He had grown so much since she had last seen him. He’d been a mere child, compared to the young adult he was now. Raising her arms, pale hands gripped lightly tanned hands in a tight grip as they connected eyes. Without a word, the duo began to speak in unison:
“ Hear these words, hear the rhyme
Heed the hope within my mind
Send me back to where I'll find
What I wish in place and time ”
Their voices echoed in the Nemeton clearing as they continued to chant the spell. The wind howled fiercely in the air. Their will, desire, and power erupted out around them like a hurricane connected to land. The candles flared to life at knee height as the flames flickered brightly in the night. There was a strong pressure building as the pair continued to chant. They both thought about where in time they wished Stiles to arrive back in time. He was their only hope to have a better future.
Stiles could feel the world around him beginning to spin out of control. It was a blur like one would experience at a Carnival or fair. When on one of those star ship rides that spun so quickly one couldn’t help but squeeze their eyes shut until it was over. Stiles squeezed his eyes close as he fought the nausea making his own stomach twirl.
Harley’s hair dances around her head and her green eyes glowed in the moonlight as she used her powers to assist Stiles in his endeavor. The louder they chanted the more that the world seemed to spin out of control. Stiles opened his eyes again as he kept chanting and could feel the world disappearing around him. What was once a clearing was now much a green blur around him. His eyesight was starting to go black as he felt a compressed weight on his body. It felt as if he was becoming too small and tight for himself.
The last thing he heard before he slipped into the comforting darkness of unconsciousness was a soft accented voice whispering around him.
“Good luck Mieczysław.”
Stiles underestimated the strength of the spell, but it’s nothing that he can’t handle...right?
This is a short chapter but I want to get this story moving along.
Beacon Hills, California
An explosion of energy encompasses the clearing in which the Nemeton resides in. Stiles Stilinski awoke with a panicked and agonizing cry before collapsing in a prone position on the dirt ground near the large towering tree. Dazed and fear filled amber brown eyes darted through the thicket of branches that cloaked him in shadows. His eyes blinked rapidly as his mind tried to painfully become aware of where he was. Of what he had done. Stiles forced himself up into a slow sitting position. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, his muscles shook while his bones ached, and his body thrummed and screamed with pain as he forced himself to remain still in his seated position.
Stiles attempted to reach out with his spark, the very thing that gave him the ability to use magic and be connected to Mother Earth, to Gaia, only to find it gone. It was once something that aided him in his ability to regenerate, or self heal, the bodily tissue and organs damaged as a result of an injury. But he couldn’t feel that pulse of energy that made it known that his magic was there. There was only silence and stillness in its wake. “What?” Stiles gasped out in a hoarse voice as his panic heightened to new levels. “No, no, no, no…” he cried out as he once again raised a shaky hand in an effort to force a medium sized rock to move.
It remained motionless.
Tears filled amber eyes as grief struck him hard and suddenly. The realization that he was magiceless and injured, in a time not his own, left despair in the wake of the pain he was feeling. He had become too reliant over the years, depending strongly upon his magic to help him, that not having it anymore? It was like a vast empty space inside of him. Like an essential and significant part of himself was missing. The only time he’s ever felt like this before, was after the possession of the Nogitsune.
What is he going to do now ?
How can he possibly save everyone and change the future from what it would be, to something better? How is he possibly going to help anyone when he doesn’t have his magic to help him? All his plans relied on him using his magic to help him subvert, stop, or kill (if he had to) anyone that was a danger to the betterment of Beacon Hills and his families lives.
Without his magic...he was just the helpless human surrounded by a world of supernatural monsters and freaks.
How was he going to save them when he’s powerless?
Stiles wallowed in self-pity and frustration as he attempted to ignore the pain shooting through his body and the empty feeling that was left in the wake of his magic no longer being a part of him. Within the darkness of the Nemeton clearing, the young man wondered just what he had done to deserve a punishment like this.
The Potter-Hale Manor
The urgent and fierce whispering in Harley Hale nee Potter‘s ears, finally forced her to awaken for her light sleep. “Son of a bitch, fine, I’m fucking up,” she grumbled irritably under her breath. The spirit of dead witches and warlocks always bothered her when they wanted her to do something...and it was irritating. Especially when it was in the middle of the goddamn night.
Harley’s husband remained blissfully asleep, unaware of her toil and frustration. “The lucky bastard,”she grumbled to herself as she felt a jolt of electricity crawling up her spine, like a steady buzzing that wouldn’t leave her be. Beneath the fierce whispers of the spirits of witches and warlocks from long past, murmuring to her of a change in the air and a newcomer about, was a steady ache beneath her heart that was screaming at her for help. The cry of pain and anguish sat heavy beneath her breasts, leaving her breathless as tears surfaced in her eyes. There was someone out there that needed her help.
And who was she to deny helping an innocent when the time called for it? It was better than trying to sleep with the unpleasantness of visions and nightmares assaulting her all night. She hated getting plagued by these damned visions, especially since it was another way for the dead witches and warlocks to bother her. That wasn’t to say she didn’t get visions of her own, not caused by the dead, but it still drove her up the wall. The continuous nagging of old death witches and warlocks that believed they were superior and knew best. And so they’d bitch about it until the witch or warlock they were bothering finally got fed up with it and did what they wanted.
The forty-two-year-old witch sighed heavily as she silently slid out of bed. Her body gave a full head-to-toes shiver, that caused her toes to curl inward and outward, at the frigid wooden flooring that was beneath her feet. With nary a glance at the shades of the long dead, that all watched her with judgement in her eyes. They always judged and criticized against any witch or warlock that subverted against the norms of a witch and warlocks mandates. Gods forbidden they socialize with other species within the supernatural community.
Harley scoffed and rolled her eyes at their judgey looks and quietly glided towards the basket at the foot of her California King sized bed. The basket sat upon a dark wooden chest, that was filled with folded clothes from her and Peter, and pulled out a pair of socks that were bundled together.
Harley was dressed in a pair of black gym shorts and black tank top. She had lethargically dressed into the nearest article of clothing before collapsing into bed only a mere handful of hours ago. She was passed the point of exhaustion and settling into fatigue. With summer hanging heavily over Beacon Hills, there was nothing to say about dressing cool for the unbearable heat.
Brilliant green eyes glanced over towards where her husband slept blissfully unaware. His body was lax in sleep with his brown hair a mess. He had been dealing with an increase in case loads at the firm he and his older brother Edmund established a near decade ago. Hale & Associates Law Firm was known for winning what seemed to be unbeatable cases. Her husband and brother-in-law were charming and smooth talkers. They could probably get Eskimos to buy ice if they really put the effort into it. So it wasn’t surprising that they are getting an increase in cases.
Harley ran her hands through her hair and up into a tight ponytail. The exhaustion she and her husband felt on a daily basis probably wasn’t helped by the hoard of children they had running about on a daily basis. Whether they were biological, adopted, godchildren, nieces and nephews or great nieces and nephews, the Potter-Black Manor and the Hale Manor never had a dull moment. She loves her children and the children within the Hale Pack, but they could still drive her fucking crazy. It was something she and Talia often commiserate over. Being both Alpha’s (or Luna’s) in Talia’s case, and working while dealing with the children was a full time job in itself.
The powerful witch quietly snuck through the hallways of the second floor of the Potter-Black Manor. As she walked on light feet down the hallway, passed rows of closed bedroom doors, filled with her sleeping children, adopted and biological, she wondered at who she might discover at the end of the feeling that was pulling her towards the Reserve. It was from habit that allowed Harley to skillfully skip the squeaky steps on the stairs as she walked down to the first floor. Her mind was lost in thoughts while she slipped on her black sketchers, that were placed to the side of the kitchen’s backdoor, without tying shoelaces, as they stayed tucked into the shoes.
Harley paid little mind as she followed the familiar path out the backdoor. Walking down the pathway towards the edge of the forest, past the built in swimming pool and jacuzzi, the garden of various flowers and fruit trees, the green houses filled with the vegetables and plants that held her herbs and spices. She didn’t consider what dangers she might possibly be going towards, following the urgent feeling in her chest. The spirits continued to whisper in her ears, like gnats that buzzed in ones ears. No matter how much she pulled them away, they always came back. She can just imagine what Peter will tell her about this particular stunt.
A wry grin of amusement graced her pink plump lips at the thought. Her husband was a fierce one when he was pissed, particularly when she put herself at risk for the sake of another. Or when she listened to the spirit’s whispers. Peter often had some choice words for the spirits that hounded his wife daily. If it wasn’t for her protection around herself and the house, she’s never get peace. She forgot tonight to put them up, from all her exhaustion..
Harley just knew that Peter was just going to be thrilled about her midnight stroll through the Reserve. Considering the hesitant truce the Hale Pack of Beacon Hills just recently initiated with the Imps, that resided deep in the Reserve, it was dangerous for anyone associated with the Hale Pack to be outside at night alone. Very few within Beacon Hills, none of the Mundane or No-Maj, knew that the Reserve was considered an Enchanted Forest. It was like the Forbidden Forest back in England, if one knew where to look.
Harley, Peter, Talia, abc Jeremy have had their hands full, along with Peter’s numerous siblings or older children, of keeping the younger ones from stirring up mischief or chaos within the Reserve. As no one wanted to have another situation like the one with the Fae. That had been a nightmare and a half. Harley shuddered at the memory. Even her brand of madness had caused an incident like that .
Without realizing it, Harley’s feet had led her to the clearing where the Nemeton resided. There had been talk by the Hunters of cutting it down, but Harley was well aware of the dangers that could bring the town and was adamantly against having it cut down. But that was neither here nor there, as her attention was captured upon the poor young man that was silently crying a mere dozen steps away from her.
Her heart broke for him, as her empathy went haywire as she became bombarded with this young man's emotions. Fear, despondency, anger, frustration, misery, and self-pity was just the barest layer of emotions she could feel from him. It made her heart ache for the anguish this young man was going to. Emerald green eyes, that were usually so fierce and determined to face the daily goings on, softened as she took a few steps further into the clearing.
“Are you alright?” She asked in concern.
Stiles head snapped up suddenly at the gentle British accented voice speaking from his left. Amber brown eyes connected with emerald green with shock. His eyes scanned over her with surprise. The thick curly black hair, stunning emerald green eyes, and flawless pale skin that nearly glowed in the moonlight, this could only be one person.
Stiles fought not to groan and hit his head in frustration, even as sore as he was. He had not expected to be confronted with Harley Hale nee Potter so soon.