Chapter 52

“Hold still. Don’t fight it. Hold still! Almost there.” Deaton said as he stood in the locker room showers with Ethan, digging his hands down Ethan’s mouth. A moment later he pulled a fly out as Ethan gagged slightly before running away from Deaton as he let the fly go down the drain.

Deaton turned to Isaac, whose eyes glowed yellow. “Isaac, you’re next.” Deaton said and Isaac shook his head slightly while holding up his hand but Deaton grabbed him. “I’m aware, all right?” Deaton said as he pulled Isaac underneath the water, “Don’t fight it.” Deaton said, sticking his hand into Isaac’s mouth, making Isaac gag.

Silver cringed as he watched from where she stood next to Allison and Kira. “Don’t fight. Isaac, stay still!” Deaton said as Isaac slightly fought against Deaton, “Got it.” Deaton said before throwing a fly down the drain. Isaac walked over as Deaton turned off the water.

“Are they okay now?” Allison asked and Deaton nodded slightly, “I hope so. The part that’s worrisome is that this was most likely just a distraction for what was happening to Stiles.” He said and Silver looked over at him with raised eyebrows. “So, there’s really two of them now? How’s that even possible?” he asked and Allison shook her head slightly, “But how did the other one just take Lydia?” he asked.

“We turned around and they were gone. So was her car.” Deaton said and Aiden raised his eyebrows slightly, “So, no one notices him just kidnapping her right out of the house?” He asked. “Most of us were concentrated on the bizarre sight of a creature materializing from out of the floor.” Deaton said, giving Aiden a look.

“Hold on- how are you so sure which Stiles is which?” Kira asked, making Deaton look at her, “That’s what they’re trying to figure out now.” He said.

🦊

Silver, Allison, Michael Isaac stood outside the fence impound lot as Isaac broke the chair before pulling the door open. “That’s it- that’s Lydia’s car.” Silver said as they walked over to a car, “The scent’s strong of emotion.” Isaac said, Allison  look over at him.

“Fear?” She asked and he shook his head, “Anger.” He said and Michael  nodded slightly. “Well, that definitely sounds like Lydia. Let’s see what else we can find.” Michael said As Isaac crouched down, sliding under the chassis to check the underside, the others slipped into the car. The air inside was stale, carrying Lydia’s familiar perfume faintly beneath the dust. Michael and Allison slid into the backseat together, while Silver took the driver seat, running his hand across the steering wheel as if the car itself might tell him something.

For a moment, silence filled the space—until Allison leaned against Michael’s shoulder with a wistful smile. “Do you remember when our parents made us go on a road trip? Our moms rented that huge RV? “

Michael’s grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “When Silver got carsick and threw up on my dad?”

“Hey—” Silver shot a mock glare over his shoulder, though the corner of his lips twitched. “He sat next to me. That was all his fault.”

Allison laughed softly. “And you still insisted on racing us up the pier afterward. You were so determined.”

Michael chuckled. “Determined, yeah. He passed out halfway through the arcade.”

Silver groaned, though the memory softened his face. “Worst trip of my life. Best churros, though.”

The car was briefly filled with the warmth of nostalgia, like an echo of a simpler time. But then Silver’s smile slowly faded. His brow furrowed as his gaze drifted to the driver’s side window.”What?” Isaac asked, “When Scott and I were sneaking around, we used to have to find ways to talk to each other.”

Silver said before leaning towards the window, blowing on it to make it fog up. That’s when they saw a message written on the window.

“Don’t find me.”

🦊

Rachel stood by the kitchen counter, her arms crossed so tightly it seemed like she was holding herself together by force. The dim light above the sink cast sharp shadows across her face, deepening the lines carved by years of worry. Her voice was steady at first, but there was a tremor buried in it.

“I’ve never wanted this life for you, Michael. Not when you were a boy, not now. I wanted you to have something normal—college, a real job, friends who didn’t have to sleep with one eye open or keep weapons under their bed. And now I want that for Isaac, too.” She looked down, flexing her fingers against the countertop until her knuckles turned white. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you growing into a man who knows nothing but war.”

Her gaze sharpened, locking with his. “You know what your father was. He was Gerard’s guard dog—manipulative, sadistic. He used you, Michael. Every chance he got, he twisted you, tested you, tried to turn you into something you’re not. I wasn’t just relieved he was gone. I was grateful. Grateful that his shadow was finally gone from over us.”

Michael’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “He was still my dad.”

The words landed like a stone between them, heavy and immovable. Rachel’s breath caught, but she didn’t retreat. Her voice, though softer, was no less firm. “Your father stopped being a father a long time before that night. Before you were old enough to see it for yourself.”

Michael took a step toward her, his expression raw and unguarded, anger and grief twisting together in his eyes. “Maybe. But at least when he was alive, I didn’t feel like I was standing here alone.”

That made her flinch. The coffee mug in her hand rattled faintly against the counter as her grip faltered. “You’re not alone. You’ve got me. You’ve always had me, whether you’ve wanted me or not.”

Michael shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping before he could stop it. “You want me to walk away from all of this? To hide? Pretend none of it’s real? That’s not me, Mom. You might be done fighting, but I’m not.”

Rachel’s voice rose, sharp with desperation. “Because if you keep fighting, one day I’m going to lose you. And I can’t—” She stopped herself, swallowing hard, her shoulders trembling. “I can’t go through that.”

Silence closed in around them, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge and the rain tapping against the windows. Michael’s chest rose and fell, his expression unreadable. Rachel turned away, wiping at her face quickly, as though refusing to let him see her break.

Neither of them spoke after that. Michael grabbed his coat, his movements stiff, and left.

🦊

Argent set the small block of metal into the mold with steady, deliberate movements, his hands working with the ease of long practice. His voice was calm but carried a quiet authority, almost like he was telling a story from memory.
“Remember, you can always start over. I was a bit of a perfectionist about it myself. I always wanted the seal to look just right.”

Silver leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his eyes following each motion. “How many did you make?”

“Six,” Argent answered without hesitation. His gaze dropped back to the mold, the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips. “But I used them all. Only at close range, though—despite what the legends say, silver’s not as accurate as lead. Not when you need precision.”

The gentle scrape of metal against the mold filled the air until Allison’s voice broke through. “Dad, wait—”

Argent looked up immediately, brows raised in mild curiosity.

“I think Silver and I should use my own mold,” she said, her tone deliberate, like she’d been holding onto the thought for a while.

Both men turned toward her with identical looks of puzzlement.

“You have a bullet mold?” Silver asked, brow arching.

Allison shook her head, a spark of certainty in her eyes. “No. Not a bullet—an arrowhead. The bow is my weapon. Our weapon. So we should make a silver arrowhead.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the apartment. Then Argent’s expression softened, a flicker of pride cutting through his composed demeanor. He stepped closer, cupping the back of her head briefly before pressing a warm kiss to her forehead. “That’s my girl.”

Allison didn’t smile right away. Her gaze shifted between her father and Silver, her voice quieter now. “Dad, Silver… if something happens—”

“Hey, hey,” Argent interrupted gently, his voice steady but carrying weight. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Well, yeah,” she admitted, a waver in her tone, “but I didn’t get to say anything to Mom…”

Something in Argent’s expression faltered—just for a second—before he exhaled slowly. “You didn’t need to say anything. And I’m going to be around for a long time. I promise.”

Allison’s lips curved into the faintest, almost reluctant smile. “Then take this as a reminder. Maybe you don’t need to hear it, but I need to know that I said it.” She looked at each of them in turn, her voice softening, deliberate. “I love you. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of us. All of us.”

Silver’s smile was small but full of warmth. Without speaking, he stepped up behind her, sliding his arms around her shoulders in a loose but steady embrace. Allison’s hands came up to rest over his forearms, her fingers tightening gently, like she was holding the moment in place.

Argent watched them for a long beat before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the top of both their heads, sealing the silence with something unspoken but understood.

When Argent finally stepped away to put his gear aside, Silver let his arms slide from around Allison’s shoulders and pulled out the chair beside her. The wood scraped faintly against the floor as he sat down. His eyes swept over the table—an organized chaos of tools, small metal molds, spent shell casings, and bits of raw silver glinting under the kitchen light. His gaze lingered on the empty shells for a moment before shifting to the rough scraps of metal, and he could almost see them reshaped into the sharp, clean lines of an arrowhead.

Allison’s voice broke the silence. “You wanna make one with me?”

Silver looked up at her, caught a little off guard. “I don’t know if I’d be any good at it,” he admitted, his brow furrowing slightly.

She leaned back in her chair, giving him that look—the one that made it clear this wasn’t about skill. “You don’t have to be. I just… want you to.”

There was a pause, and then he nodded slowly. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Like you said—the bow is our weapon.”

For a moment, they sat in a quiet lull, the faint ticking of the wall clock filling the space. Then Allison spoke again, her tone softer. “How are you and Scott?”

Silver’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. He didn’t answer right away, instead countering, “How are you and Michael?”

Her jaw tightened, and she shook her head slightly. “I asked you first.”

He smirked faintly. “Don’t be a child, Allison.”

“I’m older than you,” she shot back automatically.

“By five minutes,” he reminded her, the teasing note in his voice lightening the air for just a heartbeat.

The smile faded into something steadier, more certain. “We’re going to find Lydia. And after that, we’re gonna save Stiles. And then we’re going to be fine.”

Allison drew in a deep breath, as if bracing herself. “I’m proud of you, Silver. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that the way I should have. I remember… seeing you in that hospital bed. There were so many wires, so much blood. I just stood there screaming, because I thought you were already gone. And when you came home, I didn’t run to you—I shut down. I was scared. I didn’t know how to talk to you after what happened, so I convinced myself it was easier to be angry than to feel how much I’d almost lost.”

She looked down at her hands, her voice dropping lower. “And that was a mistake. Because I let that distance sit there between us for way too long. I gave up on trying to close it… and I will not make that mistake again. Not with Michael. Not with you. Not with anyone I love.”

Her eyes finally met his, and they were shining now. “So if something happens, I need you to know… I’m going to fight for you. Always.”

Silver reached across the table, his hand closing over hers. The unspoken weight in his grip said more than any promise could, and for a moment, neither of them needed to fill the silence.

🦊

The group stood tense at the entrance of Oak Creek, the damp morning air thick with anticipation. Scott, Allison, Silver, Isaac, Michael, Ren, Stiles, and Kira clustered close, their breaths forming small clouds in the cool mist. Scott’s voice cut through the quiet, steady and resolute.

“We’ve done this before, guys,” he said, sweeping his gaze over their determined faces. “Just a couple of weeks ago, we were right here, and we saved Malia. That was a stranger. This time—it’s Lydia.”

Silver stepped forward, voice firm. “I’m here to save my best friend.”

Allison nodded beside him. “Me too.”

Scott’s eyes met theirs, heavy with purpose. “So am I.”

Isaac let out a dry laugh, shrugging. “Honestly, I just didn’t feel like doing any homework.”

Ren smirked and added with a teasing grin, “Yeah, well, I’m just a guy with a friend’s gun.”

The group turned to Michael, who folded his arms and added with a hint of wry humor, “I’m only here because this is what the good guys do—and I’m still trying to be one of them.”

Without another word, Michael stepped forward and disappeared into the shadows of the tunnel entrance. Moments later, Noshiko appeared, standing tall and imposing, her Oni guards behind her like living shadows.

“Kira, Ren, turn around and go home. Take your friends with you,” Noshiko ordered, her voice cold and unwavering.

Kira shook her head, eyes blazing with defiance. “I can’t. When I looked at the game, I realized who I was really playing—you.”

Scott and Stiles exchanged a quick glance before darting into the tunnels, determination driving their every step.

She fixed her sharp gaze on Ren. “You’re not part of this, Ren.”

Ren blinked, surprised. “What? I’m here to fight—”

Noshiko’s voice was firm, almost maternal yet unyielding. “You can still go home. This battle isn’t yours to fight. You have a life beyond this, beyond all of this darkness. It’s time you lived it.”

Ren hesitated, the conflict clear in his eyes. “But—”

“No,” Noshiko interrupted gently but decisively. “Go. Find your own path. We’ll handle this.”

Silver’s voice was calm but firm as he called out, “Call them off.”

Noshiko’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “You think you can take him alive? You think you can save him?” she taunted.

Ren stepped forward, voice steady. “What if we can?”

Noshiko’s eyes narrowed, the memory of a long-past defeat shadowing her expression. “I tried something like that seventy years ago. Your friend is gone.”

Silver’s gaze was unwavering as he retorted, “Clearly, you didn’t try hard enough back then. You gave up. Even someone like me knows there’s always a way to save most people.”

The Oni leader shook her head slowly. “There isn’t.”

Ren raised an eyebrow, voice sharp. “Are you sure? What if Stiles doesn’t have to die? Maybe Rhys didn’t have to die, either?”

The Oni around Noshiko spun their swords in unison, sliding into a fighting stance that radiated menace.

“I see I’m no longer the Fox now, Kira—you are. But the Nogitsune is still my demon to bury,” Noshiko declared, her voice low and fierce.

Before anyone could react, the Oni vanished in a swirl of black smoke, leaving a chilling silence.

Suddenly, Noshiko flinched, gasping as she looked down at her hand. There, flickering weakly against her palm, was a dying firefly.

“Mom,” Kira whispered, stepping forward in shock.

Isaac furrowed his brow, his voice tense. “What is that? What does it mean?”

Silver’s eye widened with sudden realization, her mouth opening to speak—only to be cut off by a new voice.

From the shadows, Void emerged, his presence dark and commanding. Behind him, the Oni reappeared, their eyes glowing with fierce loyalty.

“It means there’s been a change in ownership,” Void announced, voice cold and decisive.

He turned slowly, eyes locking on the group. “Now, they belong to me.”

Without hesitation, the Oni leapt forward, swords raised, charging at the pack with deadly intent.

An Oni lunged at Silver with a blur of steel—its ninjatō slicing through the air—but he ducked just in time, the edge grazing past his hair. His movements were slower, less instinctive than before. Losing his left eye had thrown off his depth perception, turning every dodge and strike into a risky gamble. Still, grit sharpened his reflexes. He grabbed the Oni’s wrist in a vice-like grip, twisting sharply to wrench the blade away just as another Oni barreled toward him.

Silver pivoted, pulling up his crossbow and firing a shot that cracked through the charged air. The bolt struck true, but more Oni pressed in, their snarls echoing ominously.

“How do we stop them?” Isaac’s voice rang out, eyes flicking nervously toward Noshiko.

“You can’t!” she snapped back, her tone biting and cold like winter wind.

Suddenly, Silver let out a sharp groan, clutching his side. Michael spun around just in time to see an Oni’s blade slash hard across Silver’s stomach, a flash of blood blooming under his fingers. Before the blade could fall again, Michael stepped in, grabbing the Oni’s wrist mid-swing. The metal sword shuddered, stopping mere inches from Michael’s throat. The Oni shoved fiercely, forcing Michael to anchor himself, muscles trembling as he fought to hold the sword at bay.

Silver staggered back, struggling to find his footing, breath ragged but resolve firm. He nocked an arrow onto his bowstring, drawing it slowly, his eyes locking on the Oni advancing toward Michael with lethal intent.

“Run, Argent!”

“Aim and shoot!”

All around them, the chaotic sounds of battle faded into a dull roar as Silver focused. His vision locked on the Oni threatening Allison, but all he could hear were the terrible whispers—the haunting voices of the dark.

Allison’s eyes widened as she quickly notched her last arrow, drawing it taut and aiming directly at the Oni’s chest. The sword inched closer, cold and deadly. She released the arrow in one fluid motion.

The arrow struck true, embedding itself deep in the Oni’s chest. The creature froze, its eyes flickering with an eerie glow before the wound began to pulse, neon green light seeping out like poison.

Then, with a violent shudder, the Oni exploded into a cloud of black smoke, dissipating into the air. Allison took a breath and moved toward Silver, their eyes meeting as they surveyed the spot where the Oni had just been.

Without warning, another Oni darted in from Silver’s left side. Before he could react, Allison shoved him aside, throwing her body between him and the attack. The Oni’s sword pierced her abdomen in a brutal, swift motion.

“Allison!” Silver screamed, dropping to the ground as he caught her trembling body in his arms.

Panic seized him, his hands trembling as he pressed against the wound, blood slicking his fingers. “How—how do I stop this? We have to get you out of here!” His voice cracked with desperation.

Tears streamed down his face as he stared at his sister. “Why did you do that? Why—why did you save me?”

“Silver… I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “I… I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Tears burned in Silver’s eyes, his heart breaking as he shook his head, clutching her closer. “Don’t say that. You’re going to make it. You have to.”

Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard before forcing out, “I’m sorry, Silver. For everything. For all the times I wasn’t enough.”

Silver’s own tears spilled over, blurring his vision. He clutched her tighter, his voice trembling, “You’re my sister. You’ve always been enough. Don’t say that.”

But Allison’s eyes softened, full of regret and love, before she gave a faint, sad smile. “You have to know. You need to tell dad-“

Michael ran over and dropped insnatnly to the other side of Allison. “Liss, look at me.”

Allison’s breaths were shallow, her body trembling in Silver’s arms. She lifted her head slowly, her gaze shifting between Silver’s tear-streaked face and Michael, who had just dropped to his knees beside them, his own eyes wide with disbelief and heartbreak.

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, hoarse and fragile. “Please… take care of each other… for me.”

Michael’s chest tightened painfully, his heart threatening to break entirely. “Liss – don’t say that. You’re not going anywhere.”

But Allison shook her head weakly, a faint, sad smile touching her lips. “I love you. I have always and will always love you.” She said to Michael. Michael sobbed, leaning over Allison’s body.

“Promise me,” she rasped, “promise me you’ll look out for one another. Because… because I won’t be able to.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, the light fading from them as her last breath slipped away like a whisper in the wind.

Silver’s world shattered in that instant—the weight of loss crashing down on him like a tidal wave. His body shook with sobs as he held her close.