'(Is this another plan from the Hunters?)' Landon wondered.
But he strongly doubted it. He sensed nothing around him—no presence, no traces of recent human activity.
'(So, is this really just a chance encounter? A sleepwalker? Here, at this hour, in a cave?)' he thought with doubt, lowering his eyes to the trembling boy on the rocky ground.
The boy's limbs twitched with spasms. One might think it was due to the temperature—it was one of the coldest nights of the year, reaching -5°C—and the boy, who appeared to be around Landon's age, was wearing only a T-shirt.
'(So fragile, so weakened... but)'
Something... something told him that wasn't the reason. There was something else. His instincts whispered it to him.
His haki murmured a threat...
Something unsettled him in the sleeping beauty's life aura.
It was faint, deeply buried within his being, but something purely dark...
That realization sent a chill down even the phoenix's spine. Landon felt his feathers bristle slightly.
But it wasn't clear—blurred and elusive...
And yet, as he looked at the poor brown-haired teenager on the ground, trembling, muttering, chanting half-swallowed words, he appeared as fragile and weak as a newborn.
'(Is this just a false impression?)' Landon wondered with doubt, his emerald eyes fixed on the boy for a few seconds.
He finally shook his head but decided to remain cautious, pulling himself out of his thoughts before leaning toward the boy on the ground. His life wasn't in danger, for now.
"(He must have just arrived,)" Landon concluded, wrongly, but he didn't know that.
He reached out his hand, and it ignited in azure and gold, illuminating the cave with its bright glow.
Landon was going to warm him up and then inspect him, searching for what was making him uneasy, and heal him if he could. His burning blue palm neared the boy's chest before,
A hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him firmly, abruptly... A grip like a vice, despite his superhuman strength. A hand that had moved in the blink of an eye, with incredible speed,
A hand that belonged to the boy lying there...
**
His hands...
were firmly pressed against the desk. It was the only thing keeping him from collapsing, his legs having lost all strength.
The sound of printers, computers, the silence of the agents exchanging meaningful glances, the smell of coffee—the main energy source for night officers—the orange light illuminating the room but casting the bowed head of a broken man into shadow.
Noah Stilinsky ignored, forgot everything.
'(It's my...)' was the sheriff's only thought, focused solely on preserving his job, fighting his futile battle with Agent McCall, neglecting his son—his only family.
It was his fault, he repeated to himself. He took deep breaths, trying to calm his emotions, forcing himself to regain professionalism, to hide behind procedural routines.
His son was somewhere in Beacon Hills, injured, freezing, and lost.
He could afford to lose his job, but he could not afford to lose his child.
He forced himself to stand without leaning on his hands. He coughed and refocused, his eyes sharpening as a trace of moisture threatened to slip from his eyelids.
"Alright..." said the man, the terrified father who, for his son, had become a sheriff again. For the last and final time, if necessary.
"Alright, his car is gone. We'll start there," he ordered the men present that night.
"Cordova, recall everyone—I want a search notice on his car," one of his agents nodded.
"This is one of the coldest nights of the year. If he's outside in just a T-shirt, we don't have much time..." he concluded, forcing himself to ignore that possibility.
He stepped forward and grabbed Scott and Isaac by the arms, leading them into his office.
"Alright, is there anything I need to know? Something you can't say in front of the others?" the sheriff questioned the two werewolves.
"Yes, there's Derek, and we're going to track his scent..." Scott began. He had several of the missing boy's clothes from his wardrobe in his car.
"And Lydia knows. She sensed it," the boy finished.
"Sensed..." the sheriff repeated, his eyes lighting up.
'(Yes, if it's her, maybe...)' the sheriff hoped.
"Yes," Isaac confirmed, seeing that this reassured the sheriff.
"She'll let us know immediately if she finds or senses anything."
"Alright," the sheriff agreed. Lydia helping was good news, but that didn't mean he would abandon his job as a cop and rely entirely on the teenage girl's strange abilities.
**
"HAAAAAAA!!!!!!" A scream of despair, a cry that echoed through the cave, dust falling from the trembling rock ceiling.
Even from afar, birds awoke in alarm and fled their nests in panic. But Landon didn't pay attention, his mind was elsewhere.
'(What was that?)' He replayed the moment from seconds ago. In that brief instant, his uneasy senses had screamed danger...
And the feeling vanished the moment the boy woke up. Landon didn't know why or what he had sensed during that short moment.
The green-eyed phoenix remained crouched on one knee, observing the boy in front of him, seized by total panic.
"HAAAAAAA!!!!!!" The boy on the ground continued screaming at the top of his lungs, his back now upright, his frantic eyes darting around in hysteria.
His black irises frantically scanned the details and surroundings, but it seemed he wasn't seeing the same scene as anyone else would. His chaotic mind distorted the images, the colors before him. He was plunged, hypnotized in a haze of confusion and blind terror.
Two emerald eyes silently observed the pale silhouette. Landon did not make his presence known.
He watched the pale-skinned, brown-haired teenager, who kicked up gray, dirty dust from the ground as he moved and thrashed, seemingly fighting or fleeing from something imaginary.
A thick swirl of dust filled the cave, its acrid scent mixing with the already nauseating odor of the repellent substance.
Landon ignored even this assault on his senses.
'Is this just a false impression? Am I overthinking?' It had lasted only a fraction of a second, but he knew his Haki never lied...
Yet the terror, the panic, the distress in the boy before him was just as real. Even without Haki, the phoenix could feel his fear in the sweat trickling down the adolescent's face.
Finally, he made his presence known—cautiously...
Landon, one knee on the ground.
"Hey, calm down..." said the green-eyed teenager, crouched on one leg, hands extended in a sign of peace.
But he went unnoticed.
Stiles continued to frantically scan his surroundings in utter panic.
He ignored the words, the sound of his interlocutor, perhaps he didn't even hear them, his own screams drowning the cave.
"HEY!!!"
Stiles whipped his head around sharply toward the source of the voice.
He made out a figure in the darkness of the cave.
"Calm down..." Landon started, only to be interrupted immediately.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" the boy's voice was hoarse and exhausted.
Landon didn't even have time to answer before,
"Please..." His voice was a weary whisper. It was endless—nightmares, torments, one after another without pause.
"I want it to stop... I'm begging you," Stiles didn't want to see—didn't have the strength to face whatever this stranger was going to make him live through.
Landon's green eyes watched this frail boy cry and plead.
His heart clenched.
"Hey, you're safe now, it's okay..." Landon said gently.
"It's going to be okay," the apprentice healer repeated soothingly, several times.
Seconds passed...
Stiles gradually came back to himself. His surroundings regained their real form, and he slowly stopped struggling.
He looked at Landon cautiously. The cave was dark, illuminated only faintly by the pale glow of the sky. The moon shone just enough for Stiles to make out the silhouette in front of him, a boy, an adolescent seemingly around his own age, wearing a black sweatshirt.
"Who are you? And where am I?" the boy asked for the second time, this time lucid.
'(He's calmer now and came back to himself impressively fast. This must be something that happens to him regularly...)' Landon concluded. A logical observation, but a mistaken one.
This was in fact, the first time Stiles had ever experienced a sleepwalking episode. It was just that he had lived through and faced far stranger and more dangerous situations. Over the past chaotic years, he had already accumulated a long list of panic attacks.
"My name is Landon. We're currently in the woods of Beacon Hills. I was jogging when I heard a scream. I followed the sound to this cave and found you lying on the ground..." Landon spoke in a soft, calm tone.
"The woods? A cave?" Stiles looked around. Despite the darkness, he recognized the place.
"Malia..." he murmured. This was the place where the young girl, trapped in the form of a coyote for nine years, had lived—and where Scott and he had brought her back to humanity less than a month ago.
"How did I get here?" he wondered. He had fallen asleep at home but woke up here?
'(What brought me here?)' Stiles thought, uncertain.
Landon studied the pale and dazed boy before him. He was calmer now, but he looked on the verge of death.
"I don't know. Maybe a sleepwalking episode," Landon answered honestly.
"A sleepwalking episode..." Was that really all it was? Just that? The thing he had seen... That mummified demon haunting him in Japanese...
"It felt so real..." Stiles thought, doubt clouding his brown eyes.
"It's like we're back in the days of the Nemeton and the Nogitsune..." The episodes, the nightmares, the words that took on a foreign form, his mind switching languages, the moments when one could no longer distinguish dream from reality...
Stiles clenched his head, suddenly certain—
'(But it's supposed to be over. The door that had been left ajar was shut. We all closed it...)'
He was sure of it. Everything had gotten better after they sealed the door. He could read without difficulty again. The nightmares had stopped. He was doing better. Everyone was doing better.
Everyone... except him.
"No, no, no..." he murmured frantically, clutching his head.
In truth, he thought he knew what was happening. He was intelligent enough to suspect it, but despite his sharp mind, he refused to believe it...
'(That would be too crazy... I'm overthinking.)'
It was just a rough patch, he was stressed and sleeping poorly, an unpleasant moment in his life that would soon pass.
'(But we're in Beacon Hills...)' Nothing is ever simple here, and what it seems to be...
Landon saw the multitude of emotions flicker across his face.
He sighed, took off his black sweatshirt, and tossed it in front of the troubled boy, who was lost in his thoughts and theories.
"Here, put this on..." Stiles caught the garment and stared at it blankly for a few seconds.
"You must be freezing, put it on..." the young phoenix said softly to the boy, who obeyed.
"Listen..." Landon began.
"My car isn't far, I'll take you to the hospital. Are you injured? Can you walk?" asked the apprentice doctor.
His words triggered something in Stiles.
"There's a..." But when he looked down, he saw only his blue jeans, stained with a bit of dust and mud. His leg was perfectly fine.
"I... I'm fine..." he murmured, barely audible.
This entire scene, this situation from the very beginning—it was strange, bizarre...
Landon sincerely wondered what this boy was going through.
'(Is it stress? Exams, maybe?)' His haki had scanned him several times, focusing on his skull and brain, but he detected no anomalies, no signs of cerebral degeneration.
Only external factors—stress, the loss of a loved one, genetics, substance use, or a severe disorder—could explain a sleepwalking behavior this extreme.
'(Maybe that's for the best... it's easily fixable...)' Landon observed the young boy, still deep in thought.
"Tell me, what's your name? I introduced myself, but you didn't. That's rude," he said teasingly, smiling gently.
Stiles' dark hair lifted slightly as he raised his head, sarcasm lacing his voice.
"I'll spare you my full name. Just call me Stiles..."
Landon took a few steps forward and extended his hand.
The boy on the ground accepted the handshake.
"Nice to meet you, Stiles. So, tell me, can you stand?"
"I..." Stiles hesitated, confused.
He glanced at Landon, then admitted honestly, "I don't know..."
Landon simply gave him a warm smile.
"Well, there's only one way to find out." He gently pulled the boy up, helping him to his feet.
**********
The tires screeched against the muddy path, sending dark splashes under the metallic frame. The car moved steadily forward, its headlights slicing through the darkness, revealing gnarled trunks and skeletal branches that swayed in the wind. On either side, the forest stretched, dense and oppressive.
Every turn, every small bump in the road gave the illusion of progress, yet the night remained infinite, swallowing the road as fast as the headlights illuminated it. The air vibrated with an eerie silence, broken only by the rustling wind and the steady hum of the engine.
Silence also filled the car. The two young men sat in the front—Landon, hands on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road; Stiles, slouched to his left, his head resting against the window, the borrowed black sweatshirt draped over him, his gaze lost in the void.
"The night is beautiful tonight," the young phoenix's voice resonated softly.
"It's only here that the stars are visible. I like the woods of Beacon Hills. Tonight, the moon is particularly kind." His gray-green eyes followed how the silver light bathed the forest, the sky and earth merging in quiet harmony.
And in this serene scene, Stiles' voice echoed.
"No, trust me..." he began.
"It's best to avoid the woods at night, especially on full moons. If only you knew what lurks here..." he stated, his tone low and grave.
"I'd even advise you to avoid Beacon Hills altogether." Stiles proclaimed, his eyes locked onto the dark woods unfolding before him.
"Here, the night is dark and full of terror," he murmured, his warning final.
Landon stole a brief glance at him but only smiled before returning his focus to the road.
The vehicle continued forward, headlights exposing the forest, the trees, momentarily revealing the glint of unseen eyes lurking in the shadows.
The edge of the woods remained distant, hidden behind a thick tangle of trees.
"You should hunt somewhere else, or at least during the day. And definitely not alone. Don't play GI Joe..." Stiles sniffed.
His excuse of being a jogger passing through hadn't held up long, especially after they stumbled upon a dead deer near the cave entrance. Landon had slung it over his shoulders, carrying it effortlessly, Stiles walking beside him. The carcass soon joined a small pile of others in the back of his pickup.
"Or maybe you should stop hunting altogether... since if you're doing it this late, I doubt you have a permit." The boy's voice held no judgment, only logic.
"I don't have many other options..." Landon's calm voice sounded for the second time in their conversation, answering honestly.
"Hmm." That was all the teenager said, still leaning against the window.
Silence returned inside the 4x4. Landon simply drove while Stiles drifted into his thoughts.
His mind replayed everything that had happened.
Kira, Barrow... and now tonight.
He was losing control. His body wasn't his anymore...
And for some reason, perhaps because it felt easier to confide in someone he would never see again, or maybe just to hear his thoughts spoken aloud, he let the words escape his lips.
"Have you ever lost control of your life?" His voice was barely above a whisper, his brown eyes clouded with doubt, fear of disappearing.
"Like your existence is slipping through your fingers..."
His voice barely carried in the quiet car, yet it reached the other occupant.
Stiles turned slightly toward Landon but quickly realized he was only making himself sound crazier than a sleepwalking boy found unconscious in a cave already did.
"Forget it, Rambo. You wouldn't understand..."
He shook his head and refocused on the woods outside.
It was true… the view was beautiful. Moonlight cast silver highlights across the landscape, the treetops brushed by a soft glow. The forest was dark and cold, yet full of life, leaves rustling and the wind whispering the ancient mysteries of these woods.
But the next words he heard pulled him from his quiet contemplation.
"I'm amnesiac."
A beat of silence followed, as if the world itself paused to acknowledge the statement.
Stiles turned toward the boy at his right.
They were alone in the vehicle.
Yet, unbeknownst to Landon, a third presence was listening.
A being even his haki couldn't detect.
But that... was a story for another time.
Landon drove calmly toward the edge of the forest, his gaze steady on the paved road ahead.
"My case isn't medical, psychological, or mental," his smooth voice filled the space.
"I found myself here a month ago, not knowing where I was. No home, no money, just few papers..." his tone was flat, simply stating facts.
"I remember only my name... A label on an empty envelope."
Even the forest had fallen silent. The crickets no longer sang, the owls ceased their calls.
"I know what it feels like to be stripped of your life, yet still breathing. Your heart keeps beating, air fills your lungs... but you are empty."
Landon's eyes remained on the distant city lights now beginning to appear, proof they were getting closer.
"Your existence is just... extinguished," he finished softly.
His voice never wavered, and one might think it was just a well-crafted story.
But Stiles didn't believe that for a second.
Eyes don't lie..
*********