Teen Wolf: Void Stiles

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[Stiles Pov]

Just as Tara rolled her eyes, the lights in the hall flickered, each flash slower than the last, until, one by one, they went out, plunging the entire party into absolute darkness.

The sudden silence was almost deafening, and I could feel the tension settle like a heavy weight in the air.

There was a collective pause—a moment where everyone seemed to hold their breath, unsure whether this was a prank or just a standard high school electrical failure.

People fumbled for their phones, desperate to pierce the black with shaky beams of light.

Some people stumbled as they tried to find their way; a few grunted as others stepped on their feet in the chaos. The awkward shuffle quickly devolved into disoriented murmurs and a lot of nervous laughter.

Then, slicing through the uneasy chatter, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the hall—a scream filled with raw, unfiltered agony.

Instantly, every flashlight swung toward the school exit. My heart hammered in my chest as the glow of dozens of trembling lights cast fractured shadows across a figure hunched in the corner of the hall.

The figure turned slowly, as though savoring the dread that rippled through the crowd.

A ragged black cloak draped over its shoulders, hanging heavy and tattered, as if it had been dragged through mud and blood. A canine mask, bronze and gleaming ominously, covered its face, threads of crimson smeared across it like streaks of dried blood.

It stood impossibly still, except for the slight tilt of its head, almost like it was savoring the panic rippling through the room.

The eyes behind the mask were pits of nothingness, empty and void, but the figure's presence filled the air with a suffocating weight.

In one hand, it held a hatchet, its edge dripping with something dark and thick that splattered onto the floor with soft, wet plinks. In its other hand was a knife, the blade long, wicked, and glistening faintly in the fractured light.

As if in a twisted spotlight, our gazes were drawn to the wall beside the figure.

There, slumped and lifeless, was Isaac. His shirt was drenched in deep crimson, the fabric clinging to him, soaked through.

His breaths were ragged, barely audible, his eyes rolling back, leaving only the whites visible. A gaping wound tore through his neck, the edges jagged and raw, like he'd been mauled rather than cut.

This wasn't a Halloween costume; this was real.

Time seemed to fracture, stretching and shivering in the silence.

The hall grew so quiet it felt abandoned, as if everyone in the room had been snuffed out, leaving only hollow, echoing emptiness. No one dared move; no one dared even breathe.

All of us were frozen, suspended in terror.

And then, slowly, almost languidly, the figure tilted its head to the side. just slightly—almost like it was curious. For one horrifying moment, I was sure its empty gaze had landed on me. I felt as if it were staring right into me, Its eyeless stare seemed to pierce through the darkness, locking onto me as though it could see something deep within me.

BAM!!

The silence shattered as the door on the opposite end of the hall crashed open, slamming against the wall with a force that made everyone jump, a force that echoed through the entire building.

A new pair of eyes blazed through the darkness—crimson, violent, and primal, glowed from the shadows just beyond the door frame, a low, menacing growl reverberating through the room, promising violence.

"Aaaaahhhh!" It was Lydia who broke the first scream and immediately panic exploded.

The crowd broke into chaos, everyone screaming as they scrambled to push past one another, tripping over shoes and knocking down chairs in their desperate attempt to escape.

In the madness, my eyes darted back to the corner where the masked figure had stood—but it was gone, as though it had melted back into the shadows, leaving only Isaac's crumpled form behind. his blood staining the floor beneath him.

I whipped around to where the Alpha's eyes had been moments before, but the crimson glow had vanished too, swallowed by the darkness.

Both of them—gone. Like ghosts, fading into the shadows.

"Stiles!" Tara's voice cut through the fog of my thoughts, yanking me back to reality. Her hand grasped mine, her grip steady and firm amidst the panic.

"Come with me." She commanded, her tone sharp.

Before I could respond, she was already pulling me through the panicked crowd, steering me down the corridor and away from the chaos.

As we ran, the screams behind us echoed, filling the empty halls with a terrible, frenzied energy.

—----

We slammed the door shut behind us, the echoes of chaos still ringing in our ears as we slumped against it.

Somehow, we'd stumbled our way to the chemistry lab—a sanctuary of sorts, though hardly reassuring when I considered the walls were thin and the door had only a flimsy lock.

My eyes darted around the darkened room, desperately searching for anything that might anchor me, something to make sense of what we'd just witnessed.

My mind was spinning, trying to catch up to the horror, trying to process Isaac's body slumped against that wall, the blood, the masked figure with the hatchet.

"Stiles." Tara's voice was a lifeline, breaking through my spiraling thoughts. I realized, with a jolt, that I had wandered away from the door unconsciously, standing now between the rows of lab benches like a ghost in my own skin.

"What was it?" She asked, her voice steady but edged with something cold.

I shut my eyes, willing my breathing to slow, and opened them again, meeting her gaze.

"It was the Alpha," I muttered, the word barely leaving my lips, as if naming it could somehow attract it to us.

"No," She replied quickly, shaking her head.

"Not the wolf." She leaned in, her expression intense. "The other one."

I felt my stomach twist, my mind replaying the scene in jagged, brutal flashes—the bloody hatchet, Isaac's lifeless eyes, the figure's mask, that haunting, inhuman stare.

I didn't want to admit it. I wanted to brush it off as some twisted trick of the light, something my mind had conjured in the haze of panic. But as the pieces fell together, my blood turned cold.

"I don't know," I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of it. But then, a sudden, terrible realization clawed its way to the surface—a small, brutal detail I'd almost missed in the chaos.

The dagger in its hand. The hilt. A distinct white marking that I'd seen before.

"Ghostface," I breathed, the name slipping out like an invocation.

Tara's eyes narrowed as her mind caught up.

"Loomis?" She asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

I shook my head, the weight of what this meant sinking in, pressing down on me like a vice.

"No," I managed, dread pooling in my gut. "Someone else, there's a serial killer in the school."

The words had barely left my mouth when a loud, thunderous bang rattled the door behind us.

We both froze, exchanging a look that said everything—the kind of look people give each other when they know that running isn't an option.

I gripped the chair tightly, angling its metal legs outward like makeshift spikes as I stepped forward, trying to mask my fear with a show of readiness.

Beside me, Tara slipped closer, her hand cool but steady as it slid into mine, her fingers wrapping around tightly, her nails digging into my skin with a grounding force. In her other hand, she held a small pocket knife—barely more than a sliver of metal.

Another bang rattled the door, but it was different this time—less forceful, more… restrained. A faint, frantic whisper filtered through the door, just barely loud enough for us to catch.

"I saw you run inside! Open the damn door!"

Recognition flooded me, breaking through the fog of fear.

I immediately dropped the chair, relief mixing with urgency as I fumbled to unlatch the door.

I threw it open, and before I could even step back, Lydia and Jackson burst into the room, wild-eyed and panicked, followed closely by Allison.

Their faces were pale, breaths coming fast, eyes darting around the dimly lit lab as if expecting the walls themselves to close in on them.

Tara stayed close to my side, her hand still clenched around the knife, watching them with guarded suspicion.

The tension in the room was thick as everyone tried to catch their breath, the shared terror between us unspoken yet palpable.

"What the fuck was that?!"