The air in the house felt thick tonight, charged with an energy that pulsed in sync with the rising moon visible through the living room window. The hum was louder, more insistent, vibrating not just in Nikolai's bones, but seemingly in the very furniture around them.
Eleanor sat opposite him, her hands resting on her knees, her eyes closed. Her expression was one of intense focus, like she was listening to something beyond the range of normal human hearing.
"The moon's energy is powerful tonight, Nikolai," she said, her voice low. "It amplifies everything connected to the earth, to nature. It's a night of transformation, of heightened magic, and heightened danger for those of the wild."
Nikolai could feel it. It was like a tide rising within him, making the hum resonate louder, making his senses sharper, almost painfully so. He could feel the distant presence of the Preserve, a nexus of this lunar power, radiating outwards. And within that, he felt Scott's chaotic, terrified energy spiking, struggling against something immense.
"He's fighting it," Nikolai murmured, focusing on Scott's signature amongst the general energy. "It feels... agony."
"The first shift under the full moon is a baptism of fire," Eleanor confirmed, opening her eyes. They held a deep, ancient knowledge, a weariness that spoke of countless moons witnessed, countless transformations sensed. "Uncontrolled, the wolf takes over. Instinct, rage, the need to run free. Without guidance, it's just a wild animal."
'And Peter's out there,' Nikolai thought, feeling that cold, calculating energy signature drawing closer to Scott's location. 'Ready to twist that instinct, use that rage.'
"Can we... shield ourselves from this?" Nikolai asked, feeling the raw power of the night pushing against his own nascent abilities, making them feel both amplified and terrifyingly unstable.
"We can learn to filter it, to channel it," Eleanor said, her gaze softening slightly as she looked at him. "It's like standing in a storm. You can let it rip through you, or you can learn to stand in the eye, to feel the power without being torn apart by it. It takes focus. Discipline."
She stood up. "Come. Let's practice. Tonight, with the energy so potent, you might find it easier to connect. But also harder to control."
They went into a small, almost bare room at the back of the house. It felt… neutral, somehow. Cleansed of excess energy. Eleanor lit a single candle in the center of the room.
"Focus on the flame," she instructed. "Feel its energy, its warmth, its connection to the air it consumes. Now, feel the lunar energy outside, the power of the night, flowing through the land. Draw on it. Not to overwhelm the flame, but to dance with it. Make it respond to the rhythm of the moon."
Nikolai closed his eyes, breathing slowly. He felt the hum inside him, the amplified pulse of his own magic. He reached out with his senses, connecting to the vibrant, almost overwhelming energy of the full moon outside. It was powerful, intoxicating, promising immense strength if he could just grasp it.
He focused on the candle flame, on its small, steady light. He tried to draw the lunar energy towards it, not forcing, but guiding. He felt the storm of power outside rush towards him, threatening to consume him. He pushed back, trying to channel it, filter it through his will, towards the flame.
The candle flame didn't just flicker. It surged, leaping upwards in a sudden, impossible bloom of light, casting wild, dancing shadows on the walls. It felt incredibly powerful, exhilarating.
But then, the flame died. Snuffed out instantly, leaving behind only the scent of smoke.
Nikolai gasped, stumbling back, feeling utterly drained, like every drop of energy had been sucked out of him. The hum inside him faded to a whisper. The overwhelming lunar energy outside now felt crushing, menacing.
"Too much," Eleanor said, her voice calm but firm, as she relit the candle with a practiced motion of her hand, a small, contained flicker of light appearing as if from nowhere. "You let the power of the moon overwhelm your intent. It wasn't a dance; it was a flood."
'That potential she mentioned… amplified by the moon. But zero control,' he thought, wiping sweat from his brow. 'Could I be powerful? Yes. Could I accidentally incinerate myself or everything around me? Also yes.'
"Shielding then," Eleanor said, not unkindly. "Focus on creating a boundary, a filter around yourself. Feel your own energy, your own core. Push back against the incoming tide. Let it flow around you, not through you unchecked."
He tried again, focusing inwards. He felt his own core energy, small compared to the storm outside, but distinct. He imagined a shield, a barrier forming around him, calm and steady. He pushed against the pressure of the lunar energy, deflecting it, letting it wash past him.
It was difficult, required intense concentration. He could still feel the storm, hear its roar through his senses, but it no longer felt like it was going to rip him apart. He felt a faint vibration against his shield, a constant pressure, but he held firm.
As he focused, he felt another distinct energy signature cut through the lunar storm – cold, sharp, purposeful. It was closer now. Moving towards Scott. The Alpha. Peter.
He tried to focus his sensing, piercing through the chaos of the full moon and Scott's struggle, towards Peter. He felt a dark satisfaction in that energy, a predatory focus.
'He's found him,' Nikolai realised with a jolt. 'He's going to push him to shift. Guide him… or manipulate him.'
Conflict surged within him. Scott was out there, transforming, terrified, potentially in the hands of a murderer. He knew the canon, knew Peter's true nature. Should he go? Try to intervene? Use this amplified lunar energy to help Scott, or maybe even fight Peter?
He focused on his internal hum, the one that was his power, not just the reflected lunar energy. It felt volatile, unpredictable. His earlier attempt with the candle had shown him his lack of control. Facing Peter Hale, an Alpha werewolf, with this shaky power? It was suicide. He couldn't protect Scott if he was dead.
'No,' he decided, forcing the desperate urge down. 'Not yet. I can't. Not physically. But I can still watch. Sense. Learn from it.'
He focused his sensing outwards again, pushing through the shielding he was trying to maintain. He felt Scott's energy peak, a sudden, violent surge of transformation. Roaring pain, snapping bones, animalistic rage overwhelming human consciousness. It was the full, uncontrolled shift.
He felt Peter's energy then, not fighting Scott, but… guiding? Pushing? A subtle current of influence within the chaos. It was sickeningly manipulative.
'He's showing him how to be a monster,' Nikolai thought, a cold anger simmering beneath his focus. 'Trying to make him his tool.'
He held his shielding, forcing himself to maintain it against the waves of raw, untamed power radiating from the Preserve. He sensed the peak of the struggle, the moment the wolf fully took over. Then, a gradual settling, a reduction in the pure agony, replaced by a different kind of intensity – a wild, untamed presence prowling through the woods.
He also felt Peter's energy withdraw slightly, a predatory satisfaction now mixed with watchful patience. He'd done what he came to do. He'd ensured the shift happened.
Eleanor placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Hold your shield, Nikolai. Breathe. Let the energy pass."
He focused, breathing deeply, maintaining the calm boundary around his core. Slowly, the overwhelming intensity of the night began to subside, leaving behind the residual hum of the full moon and the two distinct werewolf signatures in the Preserve.
He opened his eyes. The candle was burning steadily again. He felt exhausted, wrung out, but also… changed. He had felt the raw power of the full moon, felt the terror of an uncontrolled shift, and the chilling influence of an Alpha. He had pushed his own abilities, however clumsily, against that tide.
"He shifted," Nikolai said, his voice hoarse.
"Yes," Eleanor confirmed, her expression still serious. "The wolf has been born. Now comes the true test. For him, and for those who choose to guide him."
'Guide him,' Nikolai repeated internally. 'That's where I come in.' He had observed. He had learned what the raw power felt like, what an uncontrolled shift was, what Peter's influence felt like. He wasn't ready to fight Peter, but he was ready to start teaching Scott, to try and provide a different path, a different kind of anchor.
His own potential felt like a mystery, vast and unpredictable, amplified by the night but still untamed. He needed control. He needed knowledge. And he needed to get closer to Scott.
The conflict of the night wasn't a physical battle, but a battle of wills, a sensing of distant struggles and lurking threats, and the internal fight for control over his own burgeoning power. He had survived the full moon's storm, maintained his strategic distance, and gathered vital information.
"What happens now?" Nikolai asked, his voice regaining its determination.
Eleanor looked towards the window, towards the dark woods where a confused, powerful creature now roamed. "Now, we wait for the morning. And then, we begin the real work."
The work of teaching a new werewolf about his power. The work of navigating a town filling with the supernatural. The work of building his pack, piece by careful piece. The full moon had marked the beginning. Nikolai Ashworth was ready for the next phase.