Stiles stormed into his best friend's room. Completely out of breath.
Scott glanced over in alarm, "Stiles!?" He asked, standing up. "What's wrong?"
"Aria... I can't... She's been...help..." Stiles struggle to speak in full sentences as he tries to catch his breath.
Now Scott was alarmed. "Breathe, dude." He said, grabbing Stiles' shoulders and trying to help his friend catch his breath. "Aria's been what?"
Stiles took a deep intake of air. "I haven't seen her since this morning. I've tried calling her, so did Anna and even dad, but she left her phone at home."
Scott furrowed his brow. "You're sure she didn't just go to somebody's house? Or maybe she went to the store?"
Stiles looks down at his watch. "Dude, it's almost six in the afternoon. I haven't seen her since this morning. She's knows nobody in town."
Scott frowned, now truly concerned. "Wait... you said she left her phone?"
Stiles nodded sharply, "And the house was empty. Like… no trace. She just—vanished."
Scott took a deep breath, then paused.
"Let me check something..."
He closed his eyes briefly, focusing—sniffing the air like only a werewolf could.
And then…
His eyes snapped open.
"What? Oh god... tell me she's alive? She is, isn't she?"
Scott looked a bit stunned. "Yeah—yeah, dude, she's alive. I can smell her." He frowned, shaking his head. "But... I can't track her. It's like someone is blocking her scent..."
"By who...?" Stiles thought out loud, but then his head snapped up as he looked Scott straight in the eyes. "She... she wouldn't.... She couldn't... Right?"
Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"I... I don't know, dude. You know how stubborn and reckless she can be sometimes."
"But Derek Hale.... That's suicide!"
Scott's eyes widened.
"Wait—you think she went to Derek?"
"What else did you think I meant?" Stiles asked as he raked his fingers through his hair.
Scott looked at Stiles, then sighed.
"Listen, I know you're worried. But... maybe it's not as bad as it seems. Maybe she just went for a walk and took a wrong turn—"
Stiles cut him off with a sharp look.
"Wrong turn? Into the middle of the woods? To Derek Hale's cabin—where no one ever goes—by accident?"
He starts pacing, voice rising: "You don't get it, Scott! She's human! He's… he's Derek Hale! Brooding, growling, 'I have emotional damage bigger than my biceps' wolf!"
"And now Aria—who hates forests, bugs, and being outside after dark—is out there? Alone?"
He stops mid-pace, eyes wide with realization.
"Oh god. The eyes."
"The sunglasses."
"She was hiding something. Something only Derek would make real."
Scott paled. "Wait… are you saying what I think you're saying?"
Stiles shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know... What are you saying?"
Scott stepped forward, voice dropping to a hush—like if he said it too loud, it might become true.
"I'm saying… Anima Cantat."
Stiles freezes. "You're kidding."
But Scott's expression says otherwise. "No. I'm not. And if that bond's forming—if it's already started…"
"It won't stop until they're together. And nothing—no one—can keep them apart."
Scott sniffs the air again, "It'll explain why her scent is so off. It'll also explain the shades that you've just considered mentioning."
Stiles' stomach tightened. "Wait..." He stared at Scott.
"Why would a newly awoken Anima Cantat mark be throwing your senses off? I mean... a bond like that should make her easier to track, right?"
"Not if they've already completed the process," Scott said cringing.
Stiles stares at him for a beat—then his eyes widen in horror.
"You mean… they've already—?"
Scott grimaces and looks away. "I can't be sure... but the way her energy feels now? Faint. Shielded. Intertwined…"
He glances back at Stiles, voice quiet: "If they've mated… then their bond would be strong enough to mask her presence—from humans, from hunters…"
He pauses.
"Even from other werewolves."
"But is her scent bloomed enough to protect her from other supernaturals?" Stiles asked the million dollar question.
Scott hesitates—his face darkening as he processes what Stiles just implied.
"…No."
The word slips out low, strained.
"Even a completed Anima Cantat bond doesn't make someone invisible to all supernaturals. Not the old ones. And definitely not the powerful ones."
His voice drops, almost like he's afraid to say it aloud: "If someone with real power—real darkness—is watching…"
"They won't see a shield."
"They'll see a prize."
Stiles breath hitched. "From all the places on earth why did something as ancient as an Anima Cantat had to be awaken in Beacon Hills?" He rakes his fingers once again through his hair.
Scott lets out a bitter laugh—short, humorless.
"Because Beacon Hills isn't just our home, Stiles…"
"It's a magnet."
He turns to face the window, where the first stars are beginning to pierce the twilight sky.
"Nasty creatures don't come here by accident. The Nemeton's still healing. The veil between worlds is thin. And now…"
He glances back at Stiles, eyes glowing faintly gold with worry.
"Now something pure just lit up like a beacon in the dark."
"Anima Cantat doesn't just sing for love."
"It sings for power. And trust me…"
"Some thing is already listening."