Divine Move

-----♡-----

It was quiet.

Not the kind of quiet I was used to. Not the awkward silence after a fight, or the brittle calm before chaos. This was a hush that settled after. After blood. After grief. After the truth had carved everyone wide open and left them raw.

The Yukimura house was still, lit in soft lanterns and the smell of incense. Kira's mom had nodded at me when I arrived, then disappeared without a word. I didn't ask where everyone else had gone. I just followed the thread in my chest.

And it led me to her.

She was sitting on the floor of the guest room, knees drawn up, fingers curled into the hem of an old blanket. She didn't look up right away. Her hair was down, loose around her face like a curtain. I remembered braiding that hair once, badly, and laughing so hard she fell off the bed.

Now she just sat there like something had hollowed her out and left only the outline.

"Cass..." I said, barely above a whisper.

She looked up.

And even though I knew what to expect, it still broke something inside me.

Her eyes were rimmed in silver. The blue faded into silver around her iris. Like molten mercury had traced a perfect, permanent halo. It made her look ethereal. Like she wasn't meant for this world anymore. But I realized what it meant. This had changed her, irrevocably. There was no going back.

"Hey," she said, her voice small but real.

I crossed the room slowly, like I might spook her.

But she didn't flinch. She just watched me. Like she couldn't quite believe I was there.

"I—I didn't want to come in if you didn't want to see me," I said. "Kira said you were okay but... I needed to be sure."

She gave the softest shake of her head. "Of course I want to see you."

I sat across from her, knees touching hers. For a moment, we just breathed. It felt like that was the first time I had in days.

"I'm sorry," I said.

She blinked. "You don't have to be."

"Cass-"

She cut me off, "No, Stiles. Listen to me." Her voice strengthened. "What happened... it wasn't you. I know that. I've always known that."

I swallowed hard, but it stuck in my throat.

"I don't blame you," she said. "Not for a second."

I nodded. And maybe for anyone else, that would've been enough.

But not for me. Because I could see it.

The way she sat too still. She had always been restless, tapping her foot or messing with her rings. The way her eyes never really focused all the way. The silver in her gaze wasn't just some lingering Guardian energy—it was weight. Something she'd carry until the end.

"You're not quite here yet, are you?," I said softly.

She didn't answer.

"You still see it," I added. "The sword. Her face. Him."

Her lips trembled. Just once. "I'm holding it together," she said.

"You don't have to do that with me."

She closed her eyes, and her breath hitched. "If I let go, I'm scared I won't ever be okay again."

That was the truth. Not the thing she said out loud to everyone else.

I reached out, gently threading my fingers through hers.

"You will be okay again." I said. "But I'll be there when you're ready to fall apart. Every time."

She opened her eyes and looked at me like I was something holy. Like I was finally here, her guardian angel.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"I never left," I whispered back. It was true. I was always fighting for her, thinking about her.

She leaned forward, and I met her halfway. Her forehead pressed to mine. Her silver eyes shimmered, too much emotion for one person to hold.

My hand found her cheek. And then, in the quiet room of the house that was filled with grief, I kissed her.

-----☾-----

The tea in my hands had long since gone cold. I held it anyway. My fingers didn't stop trembling.

The low hum of conversation floated through the room, but it all felt far away. Like I was underwater. Distant. Weightless. Drowning in silence that only I could hear.

I kept thinking about the moment before.

When it was just me and Stiles in this same house.

The way his forehead pressed to mine. The way he said, "I never left." It should've made me feel better. And it helped, a little.

But I couldn't stop thinking about the blood on my hands.

Allison's blood.

The vision I saw.

The one I couldn't stop.

The one I should have screamed louder about, fought harder to change, begged them to listen to.

And now she was gone.

"Here," Noshiko said, breaking the fog. "It'll calm you."

She handed Stiles a cup, similar to the one in my hands.

He stared at it warily. "What is it?"

"Tea."

He squinted. "What, like magic tea?"

She blinked, expression as flat as ever. "No... chamomile tea. Drink it."

I felt the smallest tug of a smile, but it didn't reach my face.

Ken's voice cut across the room, firm and cold. "He's not safe here."

"He's not safe anywhere," Noshiko answered.

I looked at Stiles; dark circles under his eyes, face thinner than it should've been, like something had hollowed him out from the inside.

And still... I loved him.

God help me, even with everything, I loved him.

"But Allison killed one of them," Kira said, voice rising. "Doesn't that mean something? She killed an Oni."

"Is that even possible?" Ken asked.

Noshiko hesitated. "I'm not sure how..."

Kira pressed on. "But she did it. She killed one of them."

I let out a bitter, broken breath. "Yeah, and they killed her."

Stiles looked at me. "Allison's dead..." he whispered. "Now, I guess the only good thing is it looks like I'm dying, too."

I flinched. He wasn't joking. But I couldn't lose him too. I just got him back.

The room felt colder. Or maybe that was just me again, my skin still caught in the strange not-quite-shiver that hadn't left.

"He made a powerful move by splitting the two of you," Noshiko said.

"So what's our move?" Kira asked.

"At this point," Ken said, "you need a divine move."

Stiles perked up, confused. "What's that?"

Noshiko turned to him. "In the game of Go, it's what we call a truly inspired, or out-of-the-box move. The Nogitsune had sente, the advantage, until this point. What you need is a divine move to turn the game around."

He nodded slowly. "Okay... So, is anyone feeling divinely inspired?"

I looked down into my cup.

My reflection stared back, iris' rimmed in silver. I had caught it in my reflection in a window. It felt like a sucker punch.

A permanent mark left by what I'd seen. What I'd failed to stop.

"The Nemeton..."

Heads turned.

Noshiko blinked. "A place I don't know too much about."

Kira leaned forward. "Who does?"

Stiles looked at me, really looked, and something flickered behind his tired eyes. He knew what the Nemeton was to me. The connection. He knew I was opening a door wider that probably shouldn't be opened. He sighed, resigned.

"Deaton," he said. "Deaton does."

—Scott POV—

The clinic felt colder tonight. I stood beside Deaton's work table, arms crossed, doing my best not to look as shaken as I felt. But my fingers were digging into my sleeves hard enough to leave bruises.

"Stiles, Cass, and Kira said it was the Nemeton that kept it trapped," I started. "The first time."

Deaton nodded slowly. "The problem is, this isn't even a person you're fighting, it just looks like one. It's a spirit that's taken the shape of a human."

My throat tightened. "The shape of my best friend."

There wasn't a sound in the room for a moment.

Lydia was the one to finally break the silence. "Someone caught it once. Someone can do it again, right?"

Deaton exhaled through his nose, folding his arms. "I don't know... This thing was trapped a long time ago, before the Nemeton was cut down. It doesn't have the same power anymore."

I looked at him sharply. "Is there anything that does?"

"Possibly..." he said, running his hand along his face. I felt bad, I knew we had aged him about ten years in the last two,

"When the tree was whole, its wood was sometimes used to contain powerful objects. But those objects are very rare."

Lydia blinked. "Wait, powerful objects? Like an Alpha's claws?"

"...Which Alpha?" Deaton asked.

"Talia Hale." Lydia's eyes lit with sudden memory. "Peter had them in a wooden box. A triskele carved into the lid. What if it was made from the Nemeton?"

Deaton finally looked impressed. "It was."

"How do you know?" I asked.

He looked up at me.

"Because I made it."

I stepped out, pulled my phone from my pocket, and called the only other person who might be able to move faster than me.

"Derek." My voice came fast, direct. "I need the triskele box. Yeah. Get it and meet us at the school."

When I turned back, Deaton was already watching me.

"Cassie." Her name landed like a strike to the chest.

He looked between us, then at the floor.

"Her connection to the Nemeton isn't just residual," he said. "It's living. Active. That tree may have been cut down, but she carries a piece of its power in her now. That silver in her eyes,"

"Is a scar," I said automatically.

Deaton shook his head. "It's a bond. The Nemeton didn't just leave a mark. It chose her. She's a Guardian, Scott, but she's also a vessel now."

"No." The word ripped out of me. "No way. She's already been through too much."

Deaton met my gaze. "Scott"

"She was taken. Tortured. She watched Allison die." Allison's name caught in my throat, I swallowed it down. "She blamed herself. She's still blaming herself. You've seen her. She has been a wreck for weeks. Not sleeping, not eating, barely even here! You want to ask more of her?" My voice kept raising, breath coming in short bursts. I was angry, but not at Deaton. I knew it wasn't at him, and he did too.

"I'm not asking anything." Deaton's voice softened. "I'm telling you what the Nemeton demands."

"Then screw the Nemeton," I snapped. "It's taken enough from us."

No one spoke.

Not Lydia. Not even Deaton.

Because deep down, we all knew what he was saying.

The triskele box might be made of its wood, but Cassie was made of its spirit now. And if we were going to seal this thing away for good...

We'd need both.

But I still couldn't shake the image of her curled up at the Yukimura house, her voice shaking, silver eyes rimmed with grief and guilt she didn't deserve.

And now we were going to ask her to bleed again.

To let herself be used again.

No matter what anyone said... It didn't feel right.

And it sure as hell didn't feel fair.

-----☾-----

The school loomed in the distance, dark and still. Scott Kira, Lydia, they were all with us, surrounding Stiles like we could somehow protect him from what was coming. Stiles could barely walk, and Lydia and I were both beside him, supporting his weight. We paused outside the door, Stiles stopping us.

"I know what you're all thinking," Stiles said breathlessly. His voice wavered, broken in a way that sliced through me. "If this works, it might kill me too. But even if it does, you have to go through with it. Stick with the plan, okay?"

No. I shook my head, but the words refused to leave my lips. He looked at me, and I could tell he was scared.

"The plan is to save you," Scott said, firm and full of something like hope. "That's the plan I'm going with." He gave a tight smile, pushing open the front doors. Instead of the hallway, we were met with something different.

Snow blanketed the floor of the school hallway. Trees rose where lockers should be. I felt the cold wrap around my ankles like chains, like it wanted to pull me down and swallow me whole. We walked in slowly, taking in the garden around us. The door slammed shut behind us.

The bandaged figure strolled into the garden , Kira drew her sword. .

"Like I promised, Stiles..." the Nogitsune purred. "We're going to kill all of them, one by one..."

The Oni materialized, the first one swinging for Kira. She parried the attack. I glanced at Lydia and she gave me a tiny nod. I shifted Stiles' weight to her, drawing my knives.

Allison.

The thought panged in my chest, rattling around in my hollow heart.

The four Oni circled us, boxing us in.

"What the hell is this? Where are we?" Scott asked.

"Between life and death."

"Bardo..." Lydia whispered.

"But, there are no peaceful deities here, Lydia," the Nogitsune said, stepping forward. "You're dying, Stiles... And now, everyone you care about is dying, too."

No. I clenched my fists, stepping closer to Stiles. My fingers brushed his arm, but he didn't look at me.

"The hospital, the sheriff's station, and now the animal clinic," the Nogitsune continued. "I've captured almost all of the territories on the board."

My stomach twisted. Deaton. Melissa, the Sheriff.

He kept moving closer. We kept backing up. Tighter into each other.

"Do you know the ritual of seppuku, Stiles?"

"No..." Stiles answered quietly. "And I don't want to."

The Nogitsune smiled. "When a samurai disembowels himself with his own sword to maintain his honor. But that's not the cut that kills him. The killing stroke is made by his kaishakunin, who beheads the samurai with his own katana. Scott... Scott is your kaishakunin. I'm going to make your best friend kill you, Stiles. And you're going to let him... because just like you, they're all going to die. Everyone touched by an Oni's blade... unless Scott kills you first."

He was right infront of us. I could feel myself tensing up.

"Why?" Stiles choked out. "Why are you doing this?"

"To win the game!"

The Oni got into position, and so did we. Lydia was holding Stiles. Scott, Kira, and I were trying to hold them off. They were relentless. Three of us versus four of them.

I took a hit, slamming into the rocks, hitting the snow hard.. I tumbled, rolling to the side as I gasped for breath. I looked up. Kira had lost her sword, with one oni cornering her at the bridge. Scott was on the ground, panting with two advancing towards him. The last one was steadily making its way towards me.

I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye, Stiles lunging for the Katana. He brought it up, the tip pointed at his own stomach.

"Stiles! No!" Scott begged.

"What if it saves you?" Stiles said suddenly. "What if it saves all of you?"

I shook my head, voice trembling. "What if it's just another trick?"

"No more tricks, Cassandra, you of all people should understand balance. Stiles for the lives of your friends, your family?" the Nogitsune said. "End it, Scott. Let your friend fall on his own sword. Do for him what he cannot do for himself. Do it, Scott — be his kaishakunin. Give up the game. You have no moves left."

Stiles seemed to look somewhere else, his eyes on the sword then the scenery. He lowered the sword then tossed it to Kira.

"I do," Stiles whispered, and his eyes locked on me "A divine move." Stiles turned to us, his face pale but clear. "Stop. Stop fighting. None of this is real. It feels real, it hurts... but it's not. You gotta trust me, its an illusion."

I believed him. I always believed him.

Scott looked at him. Then he walked forward. I fell in beside him, shifting his weight back to me. Scott and Kira went first.

The Oni struck us, blades slashing — and pain shot through me. But I didn't fall. None of us did.

Scott grabbed the figure and pushed him into the door

And then — we were back.

The school. The real one.

The Nogitsune slammed Scott into a locker and threw Kira to the ground. This time, it looked like Stiles again, not the bandaged figure.

"This was my game!" he snarled. "You think you can beat me at my game?"

He advanced towards us, we shuffled back, making sure Lydia and Stiles stayed behind me. "Divine move... divine move? You think you have any moves at all? You can kill the Oni, but me? Me? I'm a thousand years old — you can't kill me!"

"But we can change you!" Lydia yelled. He froze.

"What?"

"You forgot about the scroll," Stiles said.

"The Shugendo scroll," Lydia breathed.

"Change the host," the Nogitsune whispered.

"You can't be a fox and a wolf," Stiles said.

Scott lunged and sank his teeth into the Nogitsune's arm.

The scream that tore out of the thing wasn't human. Kira's blade followed next, stabbing into his chest.

The lights flickered, and something came free from his throat; a black shape, writhing and buzzing.

The fly.

My legs moved before I knew what I was doing.

"Cassie!" Isaac yelled, throwing the box.

I caught it. The fly zipped toward me like a bullet.

Screaming, I shoved the box open — light flared — and as the fly reached me, I slammed it shut. The action sent a wave of heat burning through me, like fire coursing through my veins. I stumbled forward.

Silence fell.

The creature that wore Stiles' face crumbled, its body drying, cracking, and collapsing into dust.

I turned to look at Stiles, just in time to see him collapse.

My knees gave out. The box slipped from my arms, but Isaac caught it, then lowered me down. I didn't remember hitting the floor.

-----☾-----

I found Scott sitting alone on the bleachers at the field behind the school. His elbows rested on his knees, his head bowed. The sun was setting, casting everything in gold. I hesitated at first. What could I say that would possibly be enough?

"Hey," I said gently, easing down beside him. "You shouldn't be alone right now."

He didn't look at me, not right away. But I saw the way his jaw clenched, how hard he was trying to hold himself together. "I don't know how to do this, Cass," he whispered. "She was everything. And I wasn't enough to save her."

I blinked hard against the sting in my eyes. "You were everything to her too, Scott. She loved you more than anything. And what happened... it wasn't your fault."

"I should've gotten there sooner."

"I should've too." I looked out over the empty field. "We all should've done a hundred things differently. But we were fighting something ancient and cruel and powerful. And still... we're here. You're here. That means something."

He finally looked at me. "You almost weren't. Cass, everything you went through... you could've died."

"So could you. So did Allison." My voice broke. "And I know I'm not supposed to say this, but I still don't feel like we won."

Scott didn't say anything for a long time. Then he reached out and took my hand, squeezing it tight. "You brought us back. You kept us together. I don't know what happens next either, but I'm glad you're here with me."

I buried my face into his chest, wrapping my arms around him. His shirt stifled my sobs, but I could feel him shaking too, the tears damp against my hair.

-----☾-----

Mr. Argent stood near the car, stoic as always, but his eyes betrayed the weight he carried. Isaac lingered beside him, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, shifting on his feet like he didn't know how to say what he wanted to.

"I guess this is it, huh?" I said, stepping up to them.

Isaac offered a sad little smile. "France. Big clocks, no werewolves, allegedly."

I pulled him into a tight hug. "Take care of yourself over there. No brooding. No trying to fix things that aren't your responsibility."

He snorted, but his arms wrapped around me tightly. "I'll try. You were... Cass, you were my first love. You were there for me when nobody else was. I don't think I ever thanked you for that."

"You didnt have to. I loved you. That was all. " I pulled back, brushing my fingers down his arm. "That means something, even if it didn't last. Thank you for loving me when you did."

He blinked quickly and nodded, his voice rough when he said, "Take care of them, okay?"

"I will."

When I turned to Mr. Argent, the guilt I'd buried surged up again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't get there sooner. I should've-"

"Cassie." His voice was firm but kind. "Don't. You did everything you could. Allison made her choice that night. She fought with her heart and her soul. She fought because you were all worth fighting for."

I swallowed hard. "I just- I miss her. I loved her."

He nodded. "She loved you too. Like a sister."

That broke something in me. I stepped into his arms and he hugged me like a father would. I felt my eyes get wet and I blinked back the tears.

"Take care of yourself," he said. "That's what she would want"

-----☾-----

I found Lydia in the music room, sitting at the old piano, her fingers hovering above the keys but not playing. She didn't look up when I stepped in, just said quietly, "I keep hearing his voice. His laugh. Like it's stuck in the air."

I sat down beside her. "I hear her too. Allison."

Lydia's lip trembled, but she didn't cry. "Do you think it ever stops? Missing them?"

"No," I said honestly. "I miss my parents every day. But it gets easier. The ache softens. It becomes... manageable."

She finally looked at me, her eyes glassy. "He was horrible when I met him. But he changed. He was trying to be better. And now he's just... gone."

I reached for her hand. "It's going to be okay, Lydia. Not now. Maybe not for a while. But someday... you'll wake up, and it won't hurt the same way."

She squeezed my hand. "You really believe that?"

"I have to."

-----☾-----

I didn't expect Derek to come to me. He never did. But I found him leaning against the hood of his car in front of my house, looking up at the stars like he was trying to read something in them.

"You look like hell," he said when he saw me.

"Thanks," I muttered. "I feel worse."

He didn't smile, but there was a softness in his eyes. "You did good, Cassie. You saved him. You saved all of us."

I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing the spot just under my ribs where that cold, creeping darkness still liked to echo. "It doesn't feel like it. Not really."

Derek pushed off the car and came to stand beside me. "You're allowed to feel broken. But you have to let us be there for you. That's how pack works."

I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder. He didn't flinch. He didn't move.

"You remind me of Laura sometimes," he said, so quietly I almost missed it. "Not just the bravery. The heart."

He paused, "They'd be proud of you. Your parents. Especially your mom."

That one sentence landed hard.

"You think so?" My voice cracked.

He nodded. "She was so much like you. That kind of strength... it doesn't die. It gets passed on. You honored her with what you did. She'd be proud. So would your dad."

The weight in my chest cracked open, not in a painful way, more like something finally giving space to breathe.

I turned and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight against my chest.

"You're kind of a softie when no one's looking." I said.

His eyebrow twitched. "Say that again and I'm leaving."

I laughed. Not a broken, bitter, hollow sound, like the ones I'd been hearing come from me for days, but a genuine one.

"Thank you Derek."

"Anytime kiddo."

-----☾-----

The house was quiet. His room was warm. The lamp on his nightstand cast everything in honey-colored gold, soft edges and long shadows.

I sat curled at the edge of his bed, legs tucked under me, wearing a hoodie that didn't belong to me, one that was his, that I claimed the night of the date on the jeep.

He was beside me, close but not touching, like he knew I'd lean in when I was ready. He was good at that, knowing when I needed space, and when I needed to be pulled back in. He seemed to be handling this better than I was.

"Do you think it's really over?" I asked finally, turning to look at him.

He glanced sideways at me. His eyes looked tired. His whole face did.

"I want to say yes."

I nodded, staring down at my hands. "But you're not sure."

"Not really," he said. "It feels over... but so did the last time. I think it is gone. But I also think something else will be back in its place."

I was quiet for a while.

"I still hear him," I whispered. "The Nogitsune."

Stiles froze. "Not clearly, not like words," I said. "But when it's quiet, like this, I hear... pieces. Echoes. What he said. What he made me believe."

I looked at my fingers. They were clenched in the sleeves of his hoodie. I hadn't even noticed.

"He said I would ruin everyone I loved. That I'd drag my pain into them. That Scott would drown in it. That Lydia would be crushed by it. That you..." I swallowed. "That you'd feel me breaking and finally let go."

Stiles turned to me, eyes sharp, already shaking his head. "No-"

"He wasn't wrong," I said softly.

"Cassie-"

"I couldn't stop it," I said, voice cracking. "I saw it coming. I saw Allison die before it happened, and I didn't even know it. I didn't fight hard enough. I didn't stop it. What kind of Guardian is that?"

He reached for me then. Not hesitant anymore. His hand brushed my knee, then slid up to wrap around mine, tugging me into his lap so we were eye to eye.

"Don't do this to yourself," he said.

"But I did it," I whispered. "I led them into a trap. I let her die" I turned away, tears burning.

The mirror on his closet door caught my eye. God, I hated looking in mirrors now.

My eyes weren't mine anymore.

"My eyes will never go back to normal. That shine like they're proud of what I've become, when I hate what's left."

He looked at me like I was the last thing in the world that made sense.

"I don't hate them. And I think you are looking at them the wrong way," he said, voice low and hoarse. "I think they show that you survived it. That it changed you, but not always for a bad way. You saved me."

His hand came up, fingertips brushing under my eye, looking at it like it was something holy, not broken. "Your eyes are still beautiful. You are still beautiful."

I leaned into him before I even realized it, our foreheads touching, breaths mingling.

"I'm so tired," I said.

"I know."

"I don't know how much I have left." I admitted, my voice soft.

"You don't have to have anything," he murmured. "Not with me. You don't have to protect or fight or pretend. You can just... fall apart a little. I'll be here to help you put yourself back together."

My lips found his like a sigh, slow and searching. He kissed me like I was something sacred. Something worth staying for.

And I let him.

We lay back onto the bed slowly, legs tangled, breath soft, the space between us finally gone.

His hand cradled the back of my head, thumb brushing gentle circles into my neck.

"You're still here," he whispered, like he couldn't believe it.

I nodded, my voice barely a breath. "So are you."

-----☾-----

The woods were quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you feel like you're the only person left in the world.

I followed the trail by memory, past the fallen log Lydia used to sit on during our long walks, past the clearing where Allison once strung a target between two trees and dared me to beat her aim, I never did. The ground was soft beneath my boots, spring still clinging to the air, like the earth was trying to come back to life even when a part of me still couldn't.

And then I saw it. Nestled between the roots of a gnarled old oak, sunlight filtering through the branches just enough to kiss the surface of the wood.

Chris had built it himself, before he left with Isaac. A tall, carved post with Allison's initials, a small arrow embedded just above them. Around it were small offerings: flowers, feathers, the occasional arrowhead someone had left behind. Kira brought wildflowers sometimes. Lydia brought ribbons. I brought myself.

I crouched down in front of it and rested my hand against the wood.

"Hey, Alli," I whispered. "It's me."

The wind moved through the trees, brushing my hair over my shoulder like fingers, soft and familiar. I could almost hear her laugh.

"I should've gotten there sooner. I should've-" My voice cracked, and I bit the inside of my cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I sat down in the dirt and pulled my knees up to my chest.

"Everything's different now. You'd probably make fun of how sappy I'm being, but... I don't know, I just... I miss you. Every second. I miss the way you used to roll your eyes when I said something dramatic. I miss how safe it felt when you were around. Like I didn't have to be anything but your friend."

My hand found the arrow stuck in the post and traced the edges.

"You weren't just my best friend. You were my family. My sister. And it hurts, God, it hurts, knowing you're not here. That we don't get to grow old and weird and bossy together."

A tear slipped down my cheek, falling into the dirt like it belonged there.

"I keep thinking about that night. I keep replaying it. What if I was faster? What if I didn't freeze? What if-" I stopped myself and swallowed hard. "You'd probably tell me to shut up and stop blaming myself."

I let out a shaky laugh, brushing my knuckles across my face to wipe away my tears.

"You saved so many people, Allison. You saved us. You saved me. You were the bravest person I've ever known."

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the bracelet she'd given me last year for christmas, a simple leather band with a little arrow charm.

"I want you to have this back," I said, looping it around the base of the memorial. "It always reminded me of you. Strong. Unbreakable. Beautiful."

The sun had dipped lower, casting golden streaks across the clearing. I sat there a little longer, arms wrapped around myself, the ache in my chest a constant throb. But there was peace, too. The kind that only came when I remembered her laugh. Her hugs. Her eyes lighting up when she hit the bullseye dead-center.

"I'll take care of them. The pack. I promise. I'll look after Scott, and Lydia, and Stiles. You don't have to worry."

I stood slowly, brushing the dirt off my jeans.

"And I'll never stop missing you. I'll never stop loving you."

I leaned down, kissed my fingers, and pressed them to the wood.

"Goodnight, Alli."

-----☾End of season 3☾—-