Chapter 47

The house was quiet, the kind of deep, steady quiet that made the world outside feel impossibly far away. Beneath the blankets, Scott and Silver were tucked together, the slow, even rhythm of their breathing syncing in the dark.

Silver had his cheek resting against Scott’s chest, one arm curled over his stomach like he was keeping him anchored. Scott’s arm was slung loosely around Silver’s shoulders, his fingertips brushing the back of his neck in unconscious, lazy patterns.

The sudden buzz of Scott’s phone on the nightstand shattered it.

Scott groaned, fumbling for it without pulling away from Silver. “Hello? …Hey, man, what’s up?” His voice was low, rough from sleep.

There was nothing. Just the faint sound of someone breathing.

“Stiles? …Stiles, you there?” The edge in Scott’s tone made Silver’s ears flick up.

“I’m here...” Stiles’ voice was a whisper—hoarse, shaky.

Scott immediately sat up, dragging Silver with him. He put the call on speaker. “Are you okay? Can you hear us?”

Silver leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Stiles? What’s going on? You sound—off.”

“I… I don’t know where I am,” Stiles said quietly. “I don’t know how I got here… I think I was sleepwalking...”

“Okay, hey, it’s fine,” Silver said quickly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Just—look around. Tell us what you see.”

“It’s dark. Really dark. I think there’s something wrong with my—”

The line went dead.

“Damn it,” Scott muttered, immediately hitting redial. Straight to voicemail. “Come on…” He tried again, his jaw tight.

The phone rang, and both of them lunged for it.

“I can’t get out,” Stiles said, breath quickening. “I can’t move.”

“Where are you?” Scott asked, already throwing the blankets off.

“I don’t know. Too dark. My leg’s stuck… I think it’s bleeding.”

Silver swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “How bad, Stiles? Be honest with me.”

“I… I don’t know. There’s this smell down here—it’s awful. It’s making my eyes water.”

Scott started, “Okay, listen. I’m calling your dad—”

“No! No, don’t. Please.”

“Stiles—”

“Promise me, Scott. Please. He already worries too much. Just… come find me. You can do it. He doesn’t have to know.”

Silver’s voice softened. “You’re not making this easy, man. But okay. We’ll find you. I swear.”

There was a rustle on the other end. “I gotta turn the phone off, battery’s dying—”

“What? No—wait—” Scott started, but the line went dead.

It rang again seconds later.

“You didn’t call him, right?” Stiles asked, sounding almost desperate.

“No. It’s just me and Silver,” Scott assured. “We’re coming to get you. Can you .figure out where you are?”

“A basement… big. Industrial. There’s a furnace, but it’s cold. Freezing.”

“Anything else?” Silver pressed, already shoving his shoes on.

There was a pause. “I have to go...” Stiles whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Silver asked sharply.

“…Because I think there’s someone in here with me.”

🦊

“Is it just you? Where are the others?” Silver asked as Isaac stepped inside.

“Michael and Allison are in her room,” Isaac said. “Took me forever to sneak out without Rachel hearing.”

Isaac smirked faintly. “Unless you wanted your dad to know?”

Silver gave him a flat look but didn’t answer.

Silver shook his head. “No. It’s better that you didn’t wake my dad.”

Silver, Scott and Isaac ran into Stiles’ bedroom to see Lydia and Aiden standing there. “How did you know? Did he call you, too?” Scott asked and Lydia shook her head, “I heard it.” Lydia said. Silver seemed to understand as he walked over to Lydia but Scott and Isaac looked confused making Aiden speak up, “Don’t ask- it gets more confusing when you ask.” He said.

“Not as confusing as this.” She said and they moved over to show Stiles’ bed. Silver took a step forward looking at the red yarn tied to a pair of scissors that had been stabbed into the bed. “He uses red for unsolved cases,” Lydia explained.

“Maybe he thinks he’s part of an unsolved case?” Aiden suggested.

“Or is an unsolved case,” Isaac added, scanning the room uneasily.

Lydia’s attention snapped back to them. “Hold on—he’s still out there? You don’t know where he is?”

“He said he was in some kind of industrial basement,” Scott said. Isaac nodded in confirmation. “We came here to get a better scent.”

“What else did he say?” Lydia pressed.

Everyone’s eyes shifted to Silver. He hesitated before answering. “Something’s wrong with his leg—it’s bleeding. And he’s freezing.”

“Tonight’s the coldest night of the year,” Aiden said grimly. “It’s gonna drop into the twenties.”

“What did his dad say?” Lydia asked.

They exchanged a look, and Scott admitted, “We… haven’t told him yet.”

Lydia’s eyes widened. “Stiles is bleeding, freezing, and you didn’t call his dad?”

“He made Scott promise not to,” Silver said.

“We can find him by scent,” Scott insisted. “If he was sleepwalking, he couldn’t have gotten far.”

Lydia arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t notice his Jeep is gone, did you?”

“You promised you wouldn’t call his dad,” she added, pulling out her phone, “I didn’t.”

“Wait—guys, hold on. I can get more help. I can call Derek—” Scott started.

“Everyone except for the cops. Great idea,” Lydia interrupted, already dialing.

“You guys remember she only gets these feelings when someone’s about to die, right?” Aiden reminded.

“Scott,” Silver said quietly but firmly, “it’s time.”

“You don’t have to call his dad. It’s five minutes to the station.” Scott says.

Scott, Isaac, Silver and Aiden went to leave but Lydia grabbed Aiden’s arm, “We’ll catch up.” She said making Silver furrow his brows, “What? Why?” he asked her. “There’s something here…” Lydia said and Isaac nodded, “Yeah, evidence of total insanity.” Isaac said

“We can figure out what’s wrong with him after we find a way to keep him from freezing to death.” Scott said and Lydia nodded. “Go. We’ll be right behind you.” She said and Scott, Isaac and Silver nodded before walking out.

🦊

Stilinski took a couple deep breaths, looking like he was a second from breaking down after Isaac, Scott and Silver explained everything to him. “If his Jeep is gone, that’s where we start. Parrish, let’s get an APB out on a blue 1980 CJ-5 Jeep.” Stilinski said to the deputy sitting at the desk.

Silver looked over to the deputy as he rushed to do his task. “Cordova, I want a list of any kind of industrial basement or sub-level of any building that he could’ve gotten into while sleepwalking. It’s the coldest night of the year so far. So, if he’s out there barefoot in just a t-shirt, he could already be hypothermic. Let’s move fast. Let’s think fast. Three of you come with me.” Stilinski said and led the three teenagers into his office.

“Okay, is there anything you need to tell me that I can’t tell anybody out there?” Stilinski asked and Scott nodded slightly, “Lydia knew he was missing.” He said, “Can she help find him?” Stilinski asked and Silver sighed, “She’s working on it.”

“Anything else?” Stilinski asked, “I called Derek for help.” Scott said.

“I texted Allison and Michael again.” Silver said and he sighed. “Can – can you find him by scent?” Stilinski asked looking at them but before anyone could answer someone knocked on the door and opened it. “We got it sir. We found the Jeep.”

🦊

They pulled into the hospital parking lot, engines still ticking as everyone jumped out and rushed toward Stiles’ Jeep.

“It’s dead,” Stilinski said after a quick glance inside. “He must have left the lights on.”

“Why would he come here?” Scott asked, his brow furrowed.

“Let’s find out.” Stilinski’s tone was clipped as they headed into the hospital.

While Stilinski went to speak with Melissa, Scott, Silver, and Isaac made their way up to the roof, where Derek was already standing.

“He’s not here,” Derek said the moment they arrived. “Not anymore.”

“You mean the whole building?” Scott asked.

“Gone,” Derek confirmed.

“I’ll go tell Stilinski,” Isaac said before heading back toward the stairwell.

Derek turned his gaze toward the other two. “Notice how strong the scent is up here?”

Scott frowned. “Yeah.”

“Ever hear of chemo-signals?” Derek continued. “Chemical signals that communicate emotion. Sweat can carry anger, fear, or disgust. Take a deep breath and tell me what you feel.”

Scott closed his eyes, inhaled slowly. “Stress.”

“And anxiety. The smell’s strong,” Derek said, scanning the rooftop with a tight jaw.

Silver’s eyes flicked toward a set of scuff marks near the ledge, his hands curling into fists. “What was he doing up here?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know,” Derek admitted, his voice low. “But there was definitely some kind of struggle.”

Scott’s expression hardened. “With who?”

“Himself,” Derek said.

Silver’s chest tightened, his mind instantly going to every worst-case scenario. He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could form, his phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced down—Lydia’s name lit up the screen. His stomach dropped. Without a word, he stepped away from the group, already answering the call.

🦊

Standing outside the gates to Eichen House, Stilinski got out of his car to meet up with Lydia, Silver, and Scott.

“Lydia, I don’t want to say, ‘Are you sure about this?’ but…” Stilinski trailed off.

Lydia shook her head firmly. “No—he’s here. I swear to God he’s here.”

Stilinski took a deep breath and nodded before they all headed inside.

“I need access to all basement rooms in this facility,” Stilinski said to the man at the front desk. The man nodded, and they hurried toward the basement.

“It’s here. It’s right here,” Lydia said, pausing briefly before sprinting toward a door at the far end of the hall.

Stilinski pulled out his flashlight, then kicked the door open. They rushed down the stairs.

“Stiles?” Lydia called, her voice echoing off the concrete walls. The basement was empty—only dusty, cobweb-covered furniture and forgotten equipment filled the space.

“Lydia…?” Scott said softly.

“I don’t get it. This has to be it,” Lydia whispered, frustration and confusion etched on her face.

“Then where is he, huh? Where is he?” Stilinski demanded, his voice rising as he turned toward her. “Where is he?”

Lydia flinched slightly at the sharpness in his tone, and Silver stepped in instantly, positioning himself between them. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder, his voice low but firm.

“Hey—don’t do that,” Silver said to Stilinski, then turned back to Lydia. “Breathe. We’ll find him.”

“I’m sorry…” Stilinski said after a beat, his voice cracking just a little.

“I don’t understand…” Lydia whispered, her eyes unfocused.

Silver crouched slightly so he was at her eye level, his sunglasses slipping down enough for her to see the worry in his good eye. “Look at me. You’ve never been wrong about this before, Lydia. If you say he’s here, then he’s here. We’re not leaving without him.”

Her breathing steadied just a fraction, and Silver gave her arm a light squeeze before glancing toward the stairs. “Come on,” he said gently, guiding her up, one hand still at her back as if he was afraid she might crumble without it.

🦊

A sudden knock—sharp and urgent—echoed from Allison’s bedroom door. She stirred, rubbing her eyes, the dim glow of her bedside clock telling her it was far too late for visitors.

Michael, half-asleep beside her, mumbled, “Who is it?”

“Allison,” Silver’s voice came from the other side, firm and edged with impatience. “Open up.”

She sighed, slipping out from under the covers and padding across the room. Michael sat up slightly, watching as she cracked the door open. Silver and Isaac stood in the hallway, both tense and wide awake.

“What the hell are you doing?” Silver asked without preamble.

Allison raised a brow. “Sleeping? What are you doing?”

“You didn’t get any calls or texts?” he asked.

Her frown deepened. “No… why?”

Silver didn’t answer right away, only gave her a pointed look. She stepped into the hallway, pulling the door mostly shut behind her so Michael wouldn’t hear. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve been trying to reach you for hours,” Silver said.

“That’s impossible,” she muttered, turning back into her room. She leaned over Michael and nudged his shoulder. “Hey, check your phone.”

He blinked at her, groggy. “Why?”

“Just… check it.”

Michael reached for his phone on the nightstand, pressed the power button, and frowned. “It’s off.”

“That’s weird,” Allison said. “Mine too.” She grabbed her phone, powering it on. Her screen lit up with a flood of missed messages. “I never turn it off,” she murmured, glancing at Silver.

“Sleepwalking? Is he okay?” she asked, skimming through the texts.

“Yeah. They found him a few minutes ago. They’re taking him to the hospital,” Silver said.

Allison’s forehead creased. “I don’t understand…” She scrolled further, finding several missed calls from an unknown number, each with a voicemail.

She tapped the first one. Radio static crackled through the speaker, followed by a man’s voice speaking in Japanese—calm, steady, and somehow… cold.

“Who’s that?” Isaac asked, his voice low.

Allison glanced at Silver, their eyes locking in silent unease as the voice droned on in the background.

🦊

Silver shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he followed Ren down the hallway.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said quietly.

Ren glanced at him over his shoulder. “Don’t thank me yet. I don’t even know he’s going to know how to do this.”

They reached the door to his dad’s classroom, and Ren pushed it open. The faint smell of chalk dust and old books drifted out to meet them.

Inside, Mr. Yukimura was already standing at his desk, Allison’s phone pressed to his ear. Allison, Michael, and Isaac stood in a loose half-circle in front of him, their expressions caught somewhere between confusion and unease. Silver stepped in beside them, his gaze locked on the phone.

“You’re right—it’s Japanese,” Mr. Yukimura said at last, lowering the device. His eyes swept over the group. “Who left this on your voicemail?”

“I don’t know,” Allison said, her voice a little tight. “All the messages are the same, and they’re all from a blocked ID.”

“Can you translate it?” Michael asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Mostly,” Mr. Yukimura replied, his brow knitting as if he were piecing it together in his head. “The man speaking is giving instructions. The first line is: ‘All evacuees are required to stay at least ten feet back from the outside fences.'”

Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together. “What does that even mean? What fences?”

“The fences surrounding a Japanese internment camp during World War II,” Mr. Yukimura explained. “After Pearl Harbor, Japanese-Americans were rounded up and put in camps. This man is reading instructions to prisoners upon their arrival.”

Silver shifted his weight, his jaw tightening. The thought of being herded behind fences like that made something coil in his gut.

Allison stepped forward, brows furrowed. “Where would something like this even come from?”

“That,” Mr. Yukimura said, setting the phone down with deliberate care, “is the strange part. It’s fake. The recording mentions an internment camp called ‘Oak Creek.’ There was no camp by that name in California.”

🦊

“I’m not sure I know how to pronounce this… or if it’s not actually a misspelling…” Dr. Vandenberg said, glancing from the chart to Sheriff Stilinski.

“Just call him Stiles,” Stilinski said flatly, his jaw tight.

The doctor nodded. “Okay. Stiles, just to warn you—you’re going to hear a lot of noise during the MRI. That’s from pulses of electricity running through metal coils inside the machine. If you want, we can give you earplugs or headphones—”

“Oh, no. No, I don’t need anything,” Stiles interrupted, trying for casual but not quite getting there.

Melissa stepped closer, her voice soft but steady. “We’ll be right on the other side of that window, okay?”

With that, Melissa, Dr. Vandenberg, and Stilinski left the room, leaving only Scott and Silver with Stiles.

“You know what they’re looking for, right?” Stiles asked after a moment, his voice quieter.

Scott hesitated, but Stiles kept going. “It’s called frontotemporal dementia. Parts of your brain start to shrink. It’s what my mom had. It’s the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers… and there’s no cure.”

Scott stepped forward, the muscles in his jaw working. “Stiles, if you have it, we’ll do something. I’ll do something.”

Stiles nodded faintly, then looked between them. “Silver, can you… stay a second?”

Silver’s gaze flicked to Scott. For a moment, their eyes locked—just long enough for something unspoken to pass between them. Then Silver gave the smallest nod. “Yeah.”

Scott lingered in the doorway, one hand curling around the frame like he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to leave. Silver offered him a subtle, reassuring look, the faintest lift of his brows—I’ve got this. After a beat, Scott exhaled and stepped out, pulling the door shut with a soft click.

Silence settled, thick and heavy. Stiles swallowed, voice low. “If something… is happening to me—if something’s wrong—will you make sure Scott’s okay?”

Silver blinked, caught off guard. His gaze drifted toward the door, then back to Stiles. He stepped closer, bracing one hand on the bed’s edge.

“I’d do anything for him,” Silver said, his voice quiet but certain. “That means making sure he’s safe, even if it costs me. You don’t have to ask—I already would.”

Stiles let out a shaky breath, his eyes flicking down before finding Silver’s again. “Good… that’s good to hear.”

Silver’s tone softened, but there was an edge beneath it. “But you don’t get to disappear on him, Stiles. Not now. Not ever. He needs you just as much as he needs me.”

For a moment, Stiles just stared at him. Then the corners of his mouth lifted. It didn’t erase the worry in his eyes, but it was enough to make the air feel a little lighter.

Silver slipped out of the room without a sound, the door clicking softly shut behind him. He didn’t want anyone to see his face like this—not Scott, not Derek, not anyone. His footsteps were slow, almost drifting, carrying him down the opposite end of the hallway from where the others had gone.

The building felt too quiet, the kind of stillness that pressed against your ears until you noticed your own breathing. His throat ached, tight from holding back more than just tears.

He stopped under a dim light and pulled his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose before dragging his hand across his right eye, wiping the wetness there.

The pain was worse tonight. It always was in moments like this—when his chest was already heavy, when the memories were closer than he wanted them to be. The ache pulsed deep behind his left eye, radiating across his cheek and jaw.

Tears blurred his vision, but only on one side. The right eye spilled freely, hot trails burning down his skin. The left… the left resisted, the scar tissue tightening like it could hold everything in. Then, slowly, just enough moisture welled up to sting.

“Hey.”

The voice came soft but steady from behind, cutting through the low hum of the hallway.

Silver turned sharply, muscles tight until he saw Ren walking toward him—hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. “What are you doing here?” Silver asked.

“Kira said to meet her here. You okay?” Ren asked, careful—like he already knew the answer but wanted to give Silver the chance to say it out loud.

Silver let out a weak, humorless laugh. “That’s a loaded question.”

Ren’s lips twitched faintly. “Yeah. Figured it was still worth asking.”

The words sat between them for a beat. Silver almost gave the easy nod, the nothing-to-see-here, but his chest felt like it was caving in. His gaze dropped.

“No,” he said quietly. “Not really.”

Ren took the last step in, close enough to bridge the space but not box him in. “You wanna talk about it?”

Silver’s jaw flexed, holding back at first. Then it all started to spill out, words sharp-edged.
“I just…” He drew in a shaky breath, letting it out slow. “I don’t know what’s happening anymore. I don’t know how to handle this, Ren. Every time I think we’ve hit bottom, something else happens—and it’s worse.”

His voice cracked. He turned his head slightly, the damaged side of his face catching the harsh overhead light. The ache behind his blinded eye flared like a white-hot spike driving deep into his skull.

“This life took everything from me. My family. My life. Everyone I love always lies to me. I don’t know how to handle this, Ren, because the last time I tried, I lost my fucking eye—and now I have to live every second worrying about getting someone killed.”

Ren’s eyes softened, his voice lowering to match. “No… it’s not fair.” He searched Silver’s face, unflinching. “But you’re not the only one carrying this. You’ve got people who’d take some of that weight if you’d let them.”

Silver huffed out a humorless breath. “Yeah. And that’s the problem. The more I care, the easier it is for someone to use that against me.”

Ren tilted his head. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s what keeps you from losing yourself completely.”

Silver’s lips twitched, but he didn’t answer.

Above them, the fluorescent lights hummed louder, flickering once.

Ren glanced up. “That’s… not a good sign.”

Another flicker.

Then another.

And then—black.

The hallway vanished into a suffocating darkness.

“Ren?” Silver’s voice was sharp now, his good eye scanning the void. His left eye pulsed with pain, the sudden shift from light to dark making the damaged nerves scream.

From somewhere ahead, a slow, deliberate footstep echoed. Then another.

The emergency lights blinked on with a faint, reddish glow, stretching the shadows along the walls like jagged claws.

And there—twenty feet away—stood Stiles.

Or something that wanted to be him.

His grin stretched too wide, his posture unnervingly still. His eyes—flat, black, ancient—were not Stiles’s at all.

The Nogitsune tilted its head like a predator sizing up its prey.

Ren instinctively stepped forward, angling himself between Silver and the thing wearing their friend’s face. “Stiles?” he asked, though doubt leaked into his tone.

The grin deepened.

It moved before Silver could even breathe, a blur of pale skin and shadow. In an instant, Ren was slammed into the wall, his head hitting with a sharp crack. His body went limp, sliding to the floor.

Silver’s breath caught, panic slicing through him. The shock sent a sharper throb through his blinded eye, his vision swimming in his good one.

The Nogitsune’s steps toward him were slow, deliberate, savoring every second.

“You care too much,” it said, its voice almost gentle. “That’s why you’ll break first.”

It stopped just short of him, leaning in—its gaze locking deliberately on his left side. Silver barely had time to tense before the strike came, a white-hot explosion of agony bursting through his scarred eye socket.

The pain was blinding, like fire eating through bone. His knees gave out instantly.

The last thing he saw through his right eye before darkness claimed him was that same grin.