𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 - 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚔𝚒 𝚇 𝙾𝙲

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙴𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗

What is happening to me?

 Feeling a mixture of confusion and frustration, it seemed like my powers were becoming increasingly unpredictable and uncontrollable as my 18th birthday approached. Even the smallest interactions were resulting in strange occurrences.

In Coach Finstock's class, I anxiously watched the clock, eagerly awaiting the bell that would signal my free period. My leg bounced with impatience, a reflection of my restless state. Scott leaned over and whispered, "Steph, after class, we're meeting in the library." I nodded in acknowledgment, turning my attention to Stiles. He was engaged in a hushed conversation with Malia, while Lydia appeared preoccupied with her nails.

Feeling a sense of unease, I looked down at my notebook and picked up my pencil. Leaning back in my chair, I began absentmindedly doodling, allowing my mind to wander. To my surprise, the drawings that emerged were a collection of disjointed and peculiar images. Flowers, dresses, lacrosse sticks, a deer, the naked torso of a woman, a bottle of beer, a car, fangs, claws, and various other random elements filled the pages. None of it made any logical sense to me.

Finally, the bell rang, jolting me out of my own mind and breaking my doodle trance. I scrunched my nose at the peculiar drawings, gathering my things and preparing to leave. Scott's confused voice interrupted my thoughts. "Whoa. These are strangely accurate drawings," he remarked, his eyes fixed on the pages. Malia and Stiles joined us, their curiosity piqued as they examined my artwork.

"Huh, funny. I was just thinking about deer. It's my favorite food," Malia remarked with a smile. Scott furrowed his brows and chimed in, "Yeah, and I was thinking about the lacrosse game tomorrow." Lydia walked over and glanced at the drawings, her face lighting up. "I was just thinking about going dress shopping after school." I turned my gaze to Stiles, noticing his flushed face. I turned my gaze to Stiles, noticing his flushed face. Raising an eyebrow, I questioned him. "Stiles?" His eyes darted away, avoiding direct eye contact. "I don't want to say which one I was thinking about," he mumbled under his breath. I let out a sigh, shaking my head at his response. "It's the naked lady, isn't it?"

"It's not just the naked lady," Stiles protested, but his words lacked conviction.

"It's totally the naked lady. It's always a naked lady with you," I teased, playfully chastising my best friend. He huffed in defeat, admitting, "I'm a hormonal teenager. What do you expect?"

Suddenly, a realization struck me. "Wait a minute. Does that mean you were drawing people's thoughts?" He murmurs, surprised by the revelation. "I... I guess so," I replied, uncertain. It wasn't that I could hear their thoughts directly, but rather, I received impressions and feelings that led me to draw those particular images—like fleeting glimpses into their minds.

We made our way to the library, with Stiles carefully examining the drawings I had created. Malia pointed at the sketch of a beer bottle, curiosity evident in her voice. "Who thought about beer?" Scott chuckled and replied, "Probably Coach." As we reached our usual table, I tucked away my notebook, placing it back in my bag.

Curious about Scott's intention for coming to the library, I questioned him, "So, why did you want to come here, Scott?" He reached into his bag and pulled out a book, opening it to a specific page and sliding it toward me. "Take a look at this," he urged. I leaned in and began reading aloud, "When a young witch gains her powers, she must perform a ritual upon turning 18, typically on the night of the next full moon. The specifics of these rituals vary among families, but the most common involves a sacrifice of oneself. When a full moon coincides with the witch's birthday, she must make additional sacrifices, such as offering her blood and love. This usually entails cutting the palm or tongue, symbolizing family lineage, and spreading the blood on her lips, sealing it with a kiss of true love, whether it be platonic, familial, or romantic. The act of offering blood and love signifies a deep connection to oneself, as well as loyalty to the witch's family and/or coven."