The 'training room' – really just a quiet study Eleanor had repurposed – felt different tonight. It smelled faintly of dried herbs, and the air seemed to shimmer with a subtle, almost imperceptible energy. On the large wooden desk lay the ancient leather-bound book, open to a page covered in intricate script and symbols that seemed to shift slightly in the soft lamplight.
"This," Eleanor said, gesturing to the book, her voice hushed with respect, "is an Ashworth Grimoire. Passed down through generations. It contains knowledge of our lineage, our practices, and the world we interact with."
Nikolai leaned closer, peering at the page. The symbols weren't just random; they seemed connected, forming complex patterns. "It looks... alive."
"In a way, it is," Eleanor confirmed. "It resonates with our energy. It's a tool, a guide. Not a spellbook for instant power, but a record of understanding."
She pointed to a section of text, tracing the lines with a finger that seemed to hum with faint energy. "Tonight, we focus on discerning energy signatures. As you felt the difference between the land's ancient hum, the full moon's power, Scott's chaotic energy, and the Alpha's cold presence... there are countless variations. Every creature, every place of power, even certain significant objects, leaves an energetic 'signature'. Learning to read them is like learning to identify individuals in a crowd just by the feel of their presence."
She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "Close your eyes, Nikolai. Feel the energy in this room. The lingering resonance of the herbs, the wood of the desk, the paper of the book, my energy... and your own."
Nikolai complied, breathing deeply. He felt the familiar hum inside him, amplified by the charged atmosphere of the room. He reached out with his senses, feeling the distinct energies: the dry, slightly brittle feel of the book, the grounding solidity of the wood, the warm, steady core of Eleanor's presence, and the chaotic, exploring energy of his own nascent abilities.
"Good," Eleanor murmured. "Now, push your awareness outwards, gently. Beyond the house. Feel the town. The different pockets of energy."
He extended his sensing. He felt the distant, still agitated signature of Scott. The colder, watchful presence of Peter Hale, further out tonight, lurking near the Preserve. He felt the general buzz of human life. And then, he felt that unsettling tremor again.
It was stronger in this room, somehow. It felt… unnatural. A series of rapid, disjointed pulses, like something moving in sharp, sudden bursts. It felt slick, cold-blooded, and deeply wrong. Not just dangerous, but unclean.
"The tremor," Nikolai said, his voice tight. "I can feel it now. It feels... slithering. Jagged."
Eleanor's expression tightened. "Slithering? Jagged? That is... concerning. Not like the wolves. Not like fey creatures. That sounds like... something else." She ran a finger down a page in the Grimoire, her eyes scanning the text and drawings.
"There are mentions," she said, her voice low, "of creatures not born of nature, but of... intention. Of imbalance. Things that shouldn't fully exist in this plane. Their energy is often described as disjointed, unnatural." She paused, her gaze distant. "A Kanima, for instance. A creature born of a corrupted spirit, fueled by vengeance or rage. Their energy signature is said to be cold, reptilian, and utterly alien."
'Kanima,' Nikolai's mind instantly flashed to Jackson. Jackson, radiating arrogance and frustration. Jackson, who the bite didn't take on. Jackson, whose signature felt empty, grasping. 'Jackson was the Kanima in the show. Is that what this tremor is? His transformation starting?'
The possibility sent a fresh wave of unease through him. The Kanima wasn't just a monster; it was a weapon, controlled by a Master. And its abilities were terrifyingly effective.
"A Kanima," Nikolai repeated, the name feeling heavy. "Are they... dangerous?"
"Lethal," Eleanor stated flatly, her gaze meeting his. "And difficult to track or predict using natural sensing alone. They are bound to a Master, who controls their actions. Identifying the tremor is crucial. If it is indeed a Kanima... it adds another layer of complexity and danger to Beacon Hills."
Conflict solidified. It wasn't just wolves now. Another major threat from the show was emerging, earlier than he might have expected, spurred by the events of the bite. And this one was arguably even more unpredictable than a young werewolf.
"How do we... deal with something like that?" Nikolai asked, his strategic mind already trying to calculate the threat.
"We learn to sense it accurately," Eleanor said, closing the Grimoire with a soft thump. "To track its movements. And we ensure our own defenses are strong. Shielding, Nikolai. It's not just about filtering the overwhelming; it's about creating a barrier against unwanted influences. Against psychic intrusion, against energy manipulation, against things that seek to bind or control."
She spent the next hour guiding him through shielding exercises. Visualizing a barrier, solidifying it with intent, feeling the gentle pressure of her own energy pushing against it, teaching him to hold firm. It was exhausting, required total focus, but he felt the difference. He could still sense the outside world, the tremor, the werewolves, but it was like hearing them through insulated glass. Less raw, more manageable.
"It's a constant practice," Eleanor said as they finished, both of them looking tired. "Especially in a place like Beacon Hills. The stronger you become, the stronger your shield must be. Your potential is significant, Nikolai, but uncontrolled power is a beacon. A shield makes you less visible to things that hunt for power."
'Less visible to Peter. Less visible to... whoever might be controlling this Kanima. Less visible to anything else lurking out there,' he realised. This wasn't just a defensive technique; it was a vital strategic tool.
The next day at school, the air still held that faint, skittering tremor. He saw Scott by the lockers again, looking anxious, running a hand through his hair. He walked over.
"Hey," Nikolai said. He felt Scott's energy – still agitated, but with a new layer of frustrated control.
"Hey," Scott replied, clearly relieved to see him. "Look, about what you said... the energy... the hum..."
"Did you feel something last night?" Nikolai prompted gently.
Scott nodded frantically. "Everything was just... amplified. Sounds, smells... And I kept thinking about what you said, about feeling watched. I felt it last night. Like something was out there."
'Peter,' Nikolai confirmed mentally.
"That's the energy at work," Nikolai explained, keeping his voice low. "It heightens your senses. It connects you to the patterns of the town. And it makes you aware of other things that move within those patterns." He decided to give him something practical. "When your senses get overwhelmed, try focusing on one thing. One sound, one smell. Isolate it. It's like finding a single voice in a choir. It helps filter the rest."
Scott listened intently, nodding along. "Focus... isolate... Okay."
"And the feeling watched?" Scott pressed. "What was that?"
Nikolai paused, choosing his words carefully. "Beacon Hills attracts things, Scott. Powerful things. Some are tied to the land, like the ancient energy in the woods. Others... are drawn by that power, or by the changes it brings. The thing that was watching you... its energy feels different. Older. Colder. Like... a shadow."
He didn't name Peter. Just 'a shadow'. Let Scott build his own conclusions based on his interactions. Frame Peter as a separate threat from his own transformation, someone to be wary of, someone he needs help to understand and potentially avoid.
Just then, Jackson walked past, heading towards class, his usual confident stride slightly stiff, his eyes holding a flicker of something... unnatural. As he passed, the skittering tremor Nikolai had sensed spiked, localized intensely around Jackson for a brief moment before receding as he moved away.
Nikolai froze, his gaze fixed on Jackson's retreating back. He felt the reptilian coldness of it, the unnatural disjointedness. It was the Kanima energy. And it was tied to Jackson.
Scott, with his heightened senses, also seemed to react. He turned, looking after Jackson with a puzzled frown. "Did you... feel something weird, just then?"
Nikolai tore his gaze from Jackson. His heart hammered against his ribs. The Kanima wasn't a distant tremor; it was here. At school. Walking amongst them. And Scott had felt its energy too.
"Yeah, Scott," Nikolai said, his voice carefully neutral, masking the cold dread pooling in his stomach. "I felt it. That... was another signature. Something different from the Alpha's shadow. Something... unnatural. Something else is stirring in Beacon Hills."
Conflict escalated. It wasn't just guiding Scott and avoiding Peter. There was a Kanima, potentially uncontrolled or controlled by an unknown Master, walking the halls of their high school. And Scott could sense it too.
"Another thing?" Scott whispered, looking even more terrified than before. "What is this town?"
"Beacon Hills is... a nexus," Nikolai said, remembering Eleanor's words. "A place where worlds meet. And it's waking up. Faster than I expected."
'Okay,' he thought, his mind racing. 'Jackson is the Kanima. How far along is he? Does he know? Who is the Master? Peter? Someone else? This changes the timeline, changes the threats. My plan... I need to adapt. Need to figure out what the Kanima's presence means for Scott, for Peter, for my goal of building a powerful pack. Can a warlock control a Kanima? Or fight one?'
His potential felt less like an abstract concept now and more like a desperate necessity. He needed to get stronger, faster. Sensing was crucial, shielding vital, but he needed more. He needed active magic.
He looked at Scott, at the raw fear in his eyes. He felt a pang of genuine concern. Scott was a key piece, but he was also just a kid thrown into a nightmare. And now the nightmare had just gotten significantly more complicated, and more lethal.
"Hey," Nikolai said, placing a calming hand on Scott's shoulder, projecting a sense of quiet confidence he didn't entirely feel. "We'll figure it out, Scott. Step by step. You learn to listen to the hum, learn to recognize the different signatures. And I'll help you. You're not alone in this."
Scott looked at him, holding onto that reassurance like a lifeline. "Thanks, Nikolai. Seriously."
Nikolai nodded, offering a small, genuine smile. It wasn't entirely altruistic. He was helping Scott because Scott was crucial to his goals. But seeing the genuine relief in Scott's eyes, feeling the slight settling of his chaotic energy signature under his touch, felt... good. It felt like he was making a difference, not just observing. It added a layer of unexpected warmth to his calculated ambition.
As he walked away from Scott and Stiles, leaving Stiles bewildered by the talk of energy and shadows, Nikolai felt the skittering tremor again, further down the hallway. The Kanima was here. Beacon Hills was becoming a battlefield. And he, the Warlock, was standing right in the middle of it, armed with ancient knowledge, burgeoning power, and a strategic mind. His pack wasn't just an ambition anymore; it was becoming a necessity for survival.