Teen Wolf: Rising Embers

The morning sun streamed through the large windows of Jean Grey's newly acquired house in Beacon Hills, its rays catching the glint of dust motes drifting lazily through the air. It was a modest place, tucked away at the edge of the forest, offering seclusion and quiet—a rare commodity for someone like Jean. In the living room, she stood barefoot on the hardwood floor, her fiery hair cascading around her face as she focused her energy.

Her hands hovered above the air, glowing with a faint orange light. Tiny flames danced between her fingers, their warmth palpable but controlled. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she concentrated, her mind locked in a silent dialogue with the Phoenix.

Steady... focus on balance, she thought.

You're progressing, Jean, the Phoenix's voice echoed in her mind, its tone almost approving. But power doesn't need to be caged—it needs to breathe.

Jean grimaced. "If I let it breathe, I'll probably set half the town on fire."

The Phoenix chuckled, a low, resonating sound. Perhaps they'd appreciate the warmth.

Ignoring the comment, Jean exhaled sharply, releasing the energy in her hands. The flames dissipated into the air, leaving the room silent once more. She stretched her arms, her muscles aching from the strain.

Jean walked to the window, gazing out at the forest. This town was supposed to be a chance to start over, but the Alpha Pack's ominous appearance last night had shattered any illusion of peace. She was no stranger to danger, but she'd hoped to find time to master her abilities without being constantly hunted.

Her reflection stared back at her, fiery eyes glowing faintly in the glass. "Great start," she muttered to herself.

Meanwhile, at Deaton's veterinary clinic, tension hung heavy in the air. Isaac sat in a frigid metal bathtub filled with ice water, his teeth chattering as Scott, Stiles, Derek, and Deaton stood around him.

"You ready for this?" Scott asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

Isaac's breathing was shallow, his body trembling. "Ready as I'll ever be," he said through clenched teeth.

Deaton knelt beside the tub, placing a calming hand on Isaac's shoulder. "Remember, focus on the memories. Let them guide you, but don't let them pull you under."

Isaac nodded, and Deaton pressed his hand firmly against the side of Isaac's head, triggering the ritual. Isaac's eyes rolled back, and he let out a sharp gasp as his consciousness plunged into the depths of his mind.

Inside the cold, dark recesses of his memories, Isaac relived the horrors of his captivity. His voice trembled as he began to speak aloud.

"I see... Erica. She's in a cell next to mine. She looks... she looks so pale. I think she's—" His voice caught, and his breathing quickened. "She's dead. Oh, God. They killed her."

Scott and Derek exchanged grim looks, while Stiles paled, his mouth slightly open in shock.

"Where is this place, Isaac?" Derek urged, his tone sharp.

"It's... it's a bank," Isaac muttered, his voice wavering. "They dragged me to this room... and there was this... this light. And then... someone... someone said something about a Phoenix. The Phoenix..."

Isaac's eyes snapped open, and he erupted from the water with a scream. "BANK! It's the bank!" he shouted, his chest heaving.

The room fell silent as everyone stared at him, their faces a mix of shock and confusion.

Isaac looked around, his breathing ragged. "What? What's wrong?"

Stiles stepped forward, his voice hesitant. "Uh, Isaac... right before you came out, you said something about a Phoenix. And Erica. Her body was in the room."

Isaac's face fell, the color draining from his skin. "I... I did? But—"

Scott placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm yet gentle. "Take a minute to catch your breath. We'll figure this out."

As Isaac sat shivering under a blanket, the group took a moment to process what they'd just heard.

"A Phoenix?" Derek finally said, breaking the silence. "What the hell does that mean?"

Scott turned to Deaton, his expression serious. "Do you know what it is? The Phoenix?"

Deaton folded his arms, his face grave. "The Phoenix is... a force of nature. A cosmic entity, some would say. In mythology, it's a creature of fire and rebirth, destruction and renewal. But if it's real—if there's someone in town connected to it—"

"Connected?" Stiles interrupted. "Like how connected? Are we talking about someone who, like, turns into a giant bird or something?"

Deaton gave him a pointed look. "We're talking about a being of unimaginable power. The Phoenix isn't something you control. It's something you fear."

Derek frowned. "And Deucalion knows about it. He wouldn't mention it unless it mattered."

Scott's jaw tightened. "If this Phoenix is real and it's here, we need to figure out who it is and what they want—before Deucalion does."

Deaton nodded, his expression somber. "Be careful. If Deucalion is interested in the Phoenix, it means he sees it as a threat—or an opportunity. Either way, he won't stop until he gets what he wants."

The group exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the situation settling over them.

Meanwhile, miles away, Jean stood on the edge of the forest, staring at the horizon. The Phoenix's voice whispered in her mind again, its tone a mix of amusement and warning.

"They're coming, Jean. The wolves. They think they can hunt fire."

Jean's lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. "Let them try."

She turned and walked back into the forest, the flames in her eyes flickering brighter. The storm was coming, and she would be ready.

The clinic's small room was thick with tension as Scott, Derek, Stiles, Isaac, and Deaton discussed their next move. They had the location—an abandoned bank—but the mention of the Phoenix had left a shadow of unease in the air.

"We need to move fast," Scott said, his voice firm. "If Erica and Boyd are there, they might not have much time."

Derek nodded, his arms crossed. "We'll go in tonight. Quiet and quick. Isaac can lead us to where he remembers seeing them."

Isaac gave a shaky nod, though the lingering trauma in his eyes spoke volumes about how he felt about returning to that place.

"And the Phoenix?" Stiles piped up, pacing nervously. "Are we just gonna gloss over the fact that there's apparently some cosmic firebird running around town that even the Alpha Pack seems scared of?"

"Wait," Peter's voice cut through the room, sharp and alarmed as he entered from the back. His usually smug demeanor was replaced with a rare expression of genuine concern. "Did you just say Phoenix?"

The group turned to face him, surprised by his sudden appearance.

"Yeah, why?" Scott asked cautiously.

Peter stepped forward, his face pale but his eyes alight with a strange mix of fascination and fear. "Where in the world did you hear that name?"

Isaac hesitated, still wrapped in a blanket, before speaking. "I... I heard it while I was there. Someone said it. I don't know who, but they called it the Phoenix."

Peter let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Well, that's just fantastic. Of course, it would show up in Beacon Hills. Why wouldn't it?"

Derek frowned, his patience already wearing thin. "You know what it is, don't you? Just tell us."

Peter exhaled, pacing the room. "The Phoenix isn't just some mythical creature or bedtime story, though most people think it is. It's older than anything we've ever faced. A cosmic force of fire and rebirth, capable of wiping out entire civilizations if it feels like it. It doesn't obey rules, it doesn't play nice, and it sure as hell doesn't take orders."

He paused, glancing around at the group to make sure his words were sinking in. "It's not just powerful; it is power. Raw, uncontainable power. And if Deucalion's sniffing around it..." He chuckled darkly. "He's an even bigger idiot than I gave him credit for."

Scott stepped forward, his expression serious. "Why? What happens if Deucalion finds it?"

Peter turned to face him, his eyes sharp. "You don't find the Phoenix. It's not some artifact you can dig up and wield like a sword. It chooses where it goes, what it does, and who it burns. Deucalion might think he can control it, but the Phoenix doesn't like being told what to do. If he pushes it—if he even tries to manipulate it—it'll make him regret it in ways you can't even imagine."

Stiles raised a hand, his voice tinged with nervous sarcasm. "Okay, so... just to clarify, we're dealing with a literal cosmic entity that's probably older than dirt, and it's here in Beacon Hills? Great. Love that for us."

Derek ignored him, his focus on Peter. "Deucalion wouldn't be after it unless he thought he had a chance. He's not stupid."

Peter smirked. "No, he's not stupid. He's arrogant. There's a difference. The Alpha Pack is powerful, sure, but they're playing with fire—literally. And if they've already found it... well, let's just say we'll probably know very soon."

Scott glanced at Derek, then back to Peter. "If it's so dangerous, how do we stop it?"

Peter laughed, a bitter sound. "Stop it? Oh, Scott, you sweet summer child. You don't stop the Phoenix. You survive it. If you're lucky."

Deaton cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "The Phoenix is more than just a destructive force. It represents rebirth, renewal, and change. If it's here, it's for a reason. Perhaps not all of its presence will bring destruction—but that doesn't mean it isn't dangerous. We should tread carefully."

Derek's jaw tightened. "Careful isn't enough if Deucalion has already made contact. We need to prepare for the worst."

Peter shrugged. "Good luck with that. If the Phoenix decides to flex its power, there won't be a 'worst.' There won't be anything."

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of Peter's words hanging heavily over the group.

Finally, Scott straightened, his determination clear in his expression. "We'll deal with it when we have to. Right now, we're going to the bank. We'll save Erica and Boyd, and if the Phoenix is there... we'll figure it out."

Stiles muttered under his breath, "Yeah, sure, no big deal. Just figure out how to survive a cosmic inferno while fighting an army of Alphas. Sounds like a fun Tuesday night."