Autophobia

AUTHOR'S NOTES; Also, y'all, it's been like half a year 😭 I'm sorry!

But! In my defense, I took a little vacation for almost a month and this newest installment of this series takes way longer to write and post because it's very technical! Like, it took me a month and a half to do the first 2 chapters of A Survivor's Will! But I think it will be easier now that I have a good start on how I want to handle the mechanics of it. And now there are 8 parts to this series and I wrote over 45k since you guys last saw me!

Still… I am sorry 💙 you guys are my dear readers so I feel bad for the wait.

Anyway! I know gamer fics aren't for everyone, but it's not a traditional one, so you might enjoy it anyway.

Y'all know how this series works by now, but if you're new, hi! Welcome! Each part of this series can be read independently or in order as part of a soul's journey through the cycle of reincarnation.

Side note, I started school again, so I had to slow down in updates again. So sorry. But I'll be updating all break.

As always, thank you guys for showing your love for my work. I hope yall enjoy!

Discord!

https://discord.gg/XhqUDAnbsH

XXXXXXXXXX

We enter my home and are immediately greeted by party poppers, confetti, and cheers of "Happy Re-Birthday Day!"

I wheeze, shaking with barely restrained laughter, when I see the dumbstruck look on the Hales' faces. I glance incredulously at Erica and see the shit eating grin on her face, Boyd's smirk far more subtle as he holds out a fucking cake. not having thought they would actually have a party for Peter's re-alivement, I notice that the whole pack has arrived. 

I grin, and usher Peter and Derek in before making my way to the food as the others surround them. I accept a plate from Issac, observing how the pack seems to have responded to Peter's presence as a challenge to prove they weren't scared. Scott and Peter were already sniping at each other, although with a general lack of heat on either side. Still, no one but Derek dared to move within arms reach of the older wolf. Even Calista who had never been on the receiving end of the left hand's wrath, was careful to stand with Mel and the Sheriff, who were showing the most hesitance. I take a drink from Danny, thanking him, as I observe the others settle in around the den. 

My breath hitches as I realize that this basement I'd used to use for storage and the occasional sleep over has turned into the place my soul most felt at peace. Just a year ago, Sunys and I used to sleep over at Stiles's and Scott's house just as often, if not more so than my own house, which had felt so empty after my mom started traveling. But at some point, this empty house had become a home for us all.

One by one, my pack had settled in. In the beginning it had just been Scott's and Stile's hoodies in my laundry and Mel's keftovers in my fridge. Then, the sheriffs favorite type of coffee beans were in my cabinets and Derek's cologne scent soaked into my blankets. After that, Isaac's paintings found their way onto my walls and Boys's knitting basket next to the couch. Suddenly, Jackson's lacrosse gear was thrown in the corner, and Lydia's make up and Erica's blonde strands were goddamn everywhere. We ordered some fancy new computer equipment for Danny to use in the basement, and the desk is already decorated with sparkly stickers and stuffed animals, courtesy of Sunny. Most recently, I could find Iggy's teething toys in the freezer and Calista's spicy novels on the coffee table. When did this cold house I used to barely stand become a home so filled with warmth?

I could not remember.

But perhaps… My eyes fall on Peter, sitting alone on the roomy couch as literally everyone else sat on the floor or other side of the room, an obvious divide between them. 

I suppose it was to be expected. He had quite literally hunted some of us down. Still, in a twisted kind of way, I found myself grateful to the man who was the catalyst that turned my entire life upside down. Inadvertently, he had ended up being the reason I had found a family to make a home.

And well, I couldn't very well have him excluded from that. I grab my food and make my way over to him, carefully perching next to him while making eye contact as best I can.

The room goes quiet.

Peter side eyes me, and then, almost like a provocation, he leans back, throwing an arm over the back of the couch, one brow arched in a very Hale-like expression. 

Tch. He doesn't know who he is messing with.

I scoot closer, giving him time to escape, inch by inch, until my side is pressed against his. We both flinch, going stiff, but neither of us is willing to lose this game of chicken by breaking contact first. He gapes and I smirk in triumph before calmly turning back to my plate and eating, utterly ignoring the burning gaze of every other person in the room.

It's the warm, familiar cackle of my beloved best friend that finally breaks the silence, and I wink, blowing a kiss in Stiles's direction. The noise in the room slowly starts up again, and one by one the distance between Peter and I and the others slowly vanishes. Derek settles on my other side, his cheek brushing mine with such a tender look in his eyes that it makes my own water and avert themselves. Stiles finds himself leaning back against Peter and my own legs, his flailing, causing Peter to growl and snap at him, but all he receives in response is Stiles sticking his tongue out at him, not a hint of fear to be detected. By the end of the night, Iggy is drooling on the big bad left hand's v-neck while everyone is pretending not to see the mix of grief and wonder in his icy blue eyes.

XXXXXXXXXX

The night is long and dark. After my first nightmare, I excused myself to my room rather than sleeping with the rest in the den, ignoring the glowing, knowing eyes that watched me leave. The images had been fractured and indistinct, fire and pounding music and screams, and despite Suhel's whispers that I needed to See, I was unable to fall asleep again, spending the whole night in a dazed limbo. 

I flinch fully awake when someone shakes my shoulder, leading me to cringe away, alarm spiking through me as I put up my arms to defend myself, only to recognize the familia presence half a moment later. "Stiles?"

"Sorry, Halwa, we have an emergency," he says grimly, helping me up. 

Disturbed, I stagger out of bed and into his arms as he ushers me downstairs. The pack had been careful about the way they touched me these days, doing their best never to startle me, so it must have been very serious if he had made contact in a way that could've easily led to a panic attack. Immediately, my mind goes to the safety of my family, the horrific nightmare at the forefront of my mind. "The pack! Is everyone-"

"The pack is fine. It's Ezra and his coven, actually. He's on his way now," Stiles reports, stunning me. "One of his got seriously hurt by hunters."

My heart drops and self loathing sets in. Guess I know what the dreams meant. "Call Chris and Allison."

I wait by our front door, noting Derek and Peter already there as Stiles goes to make the call.

I reach inwardly. "Suhel, why didn't you warn me?"

I could almost see him, tilting his head in confusion as he sat amidst gnarled roots of a parttially regrown stump. "What do you mean, child? I did not know anymore than you did."

My face contorts and I try to force down my agitation. "Are you not the one who gives me my visions?"

Suhel chuckles. "Of course not. I am the nemeton. I am Magic. I am Balance. It is you that directs me, not the other way around."

I run my fingers through my hair in distress. "So why were the visions so blurry last night? They were so clear until recently. How come I haven't been able to control them at all?"

My visions were really the only part of my magic that I had yet to make any serious progress on. I could throw a bit of lightning around no problem, move objects with relative ease and mountain ash is my bitch. But my visions... If anything, I'd gotten worse. For a while there, I thought I was getting the hang of it, but they've been utterly out of control recently. When before I was able to get full scenes, some of which were minutes long, now, I can't see anything useful, merely flashes of death and destruction without any context to help me subvert it and when I'm least prepared for it. I nearly fell down the stairs just yesterday because of an unexpected vision making me blind.

Suhel hums. "You cannot control them because you don't want to." I go to protest only to be cut off by his voice, ageless as always. "You are scared, little guardian. Your recent remembrance of your past has caused you to fear what your Sight might show you. Now, your fear has caused you to fail and one of your Vassals has paid the price."

My face drains of blood rapidly. Ah, I realize numbly. This is my fault.

"-la! LAYLA!" Derek growl, his hand grasping tightly at my hip, shaking me from my haze. "What is it? Are you-"

A fancy red car comes skidding around the corner, and like it's straight out of an action movie, it swerves into my driveway, parking perfectly despite the momentum. In two blinks of my eyes, Ezra appears in front of us, a bloody half charred mess in his arms. "Young queen, I request your aid as one of your vassals," the man intones, voice a low hiss.

I step back, and Ezra enters, quickly following Derek's directions to the ground floor sitting room, my hands shaking violently. I could feel myself spiraling as light refracts off my skin and I grab at the flower crown on my head, ignoring the prick of burrs into my skin. 

"Suhel, I'm sorry. I need help. I can't"- a soothing kind of emptiness fills me and I let out a ragged breath. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry, young one." Suhel's voice is much gentler now. I couldn't say that he was ever cruel, but he tended to be very matter-of-fact, and he clearly cared little for anyone outside of me. Even the Emissary and Alpha, while holding great importance for him, were reviewed mostly impersonally. But still, it sounded like he was trying to comfort me. "This was your fault, yes. But you will learn."

I choke on the weight of guilt and responsibility for a moment before the detachment settles in and I join the others. Ezra had set the lump, a vampire, a person, on a sheet on the floor and I refuse to gag on the scent of burned flesh. 

Jittery fear tingles along my skin and my eyes land on the horrified Hale wolves. Both Derek and Peter are not doing well, Peter unsurprisingly significantly worse off than the alpha. " Peter, Derek, go."

"But-" Derek growls around a mouth full of fangs, but luckily that's when Stiles returns, a thunderous look on his face, and without a word drags both wolves out by their colors, immediately on the same wavelength as me.

I take a moment to send a prayer to whatever God that's listening for blessing me with such a person in my life, before I turn to the leader of the vampires in my territory, noting how the empicaple image he'd held when I first saw him was gone, replaced by wild, enraged, blood red eyes and clammy skin. "What happened and how can I help?"

"It is incredibly inappropriate to ask, little queen, but I request you let this child feed off of your blood. It is the only thing that can save him now," Ezra says gravely, and I shudder at the confirmation that the mess on my floor is a person, but I don't hesitate to kneel next to them.

All I can see is ragged bits of fabric and chard flesh, the scent suffocating and the sound of rattling wheezes shredding at my inside. Careful not to heave, I offer my wrist, Ezra's sharp fangs puncturing it, before directing it into the jaws of the creature below us. However, he hesitates. "Guardian, blood giving is not a small matter amongst my kind. In fact,your blood is considered sacred. If you choose to do this-"

I interrupt, impatient. "It is the only thing that can save them, right? Nothing else matters right now."

Ezra nods grimly and soon a second pair of fangs is digging into the open wounds on my wrist. At first, the injured vampire is completely limp. However, in between one moment and the next, a hand is gripping my forearm painfully, and my skin is tearing under frenzied teeth. I grunt, but enduring, knowing I deserve much worse because if I had protected my people properly, this would've never happened in the first place.

"Chris says that Gerard and his man went out last night. I'm guessing they're the ones who did this?" Stiles says darkly as he returns to the room and comes to stand behind me, hands gripping my shoulders bracingly.

Ezra hisses, the sound raising the hairs all along my body. "A few of my coven were at the nearby club. They were having fun, and yes, taking a drink or two, but we are a responsible coven. A few sips from a mortal can satiate our hunger for a long period of time. We never take enough to be harmful, and our saliva heals the wound afterwards. There is no harm done to any party, and any trauma is vanished away with a minor bit of hypnotism. It is unfortunate, but vampires do require mortal blood to survive. Too much animal blood makes us sick, and there's only so much blood we can steal from hospitals-"

"We know, Ezra, you need not justify your nature to us," I interrupt again, still distant and floaty on the inside as Suhel protects my mind from my own emotions. "We knew what we agreed to when We accepted your coven to my realm."

Ezra nods and I try not to wince under the bruising grip of the vampire, a young man I realize as clumps of blackened flesh falls away to reveal pale skin. "Right. Well, I suppose those hunters saw Emilio here taking a drink. He, and the other children barely escaped. As it is, without your blood, he will be dead by sunrise."

"What side effects will he have from drinking Layla's blood?" Stiles asks as I watch, stomach turning as muscle and sinew regrow, the raspy breaths turning into whimpers as Emilio regenerates, blood, red eyes blinking up at me from beneath black curls. He looks the same age as Derek and though he is probably much older, it still makes my chest tighten as I carefully brush his matted curls away from his tear streaked face as it reconstructed itself.

"He will be stronger than most others of our kind. Additionally, should this happen more than once, he is likely to form an attachment to the queen, and it's possible that she will form one to him in return," Ezra states, seriously. "The blood of a guardian is something special indeed, a treasure in vampire culture of high honor if bestowed on any."

That made sense to me. It also made sense why my blood would've been part of the bonding ceremony I had when Ezra took his vows to me. Unable to stop himself, Stiles blurts out his next question "When do you say attachment, it's not gonna be like some weird teen romance novel, right?"

I choke out a laugh as Ezra prys Emilio off me with minimal difficulty. Ezra himself snorts, "No, the attachment between them would not necessarily be romantic. If anything, it would be similar to packbonds where he would become protective of her and dislike anyone else drinking her blood, but that is not something that occurs from a single feeding session."

Stiles nods vigourysky as he whips out his notebook from his pocket dimension and begins taking notes as he interrogates the vampire leader. Seriously, I still haven't figured out where he gets that thing from.

I peered down at Emilio, heart, wrenching as his red eyes fade to hazel and fall shut as he seems to go to sleep, even if his skin continues to knit back together. Swallowing hard, I turned to Ezra, inadvertently cutting my friend off mid tirade. "I'm sorry."

The blonde man blinks, taken back. "Whatever for, your majesty? You have saved one of my fledglings with your own blood. For what reason do you have to apologize?"

I clench my fists in my pajama bottoms, not having had the chance to change before they arrived and ignoring the way the motion pulls at the torn flesh where Emilio dug in, sending sharp pains through my wrist. "It is my fault this happened. I should've foreseen it and prevented it, but I don't have control of all of my abilities just yet. This is entirely my fault. Even though I promised to protect all of you.-"

Gentle, long fingered hands, lay themselves over my olive toned hands where they are knotted in the fabric of my bottoms. I blink, stunned when I realize one of them belongs to Emilio, whose eyes are still shut and must be in incredible pain, and the other Ezra himself.. The vampire leader's aura is so incredibly forgiving and kind that I feel my eyes overflow with the tears I've been holding back this entire time. " Little one, no one expects you to be infallible, especially not so soon after you have awakened as a Guardian. I imagine that this will unfortunately not be the last mistake you make. I myself still make mistakes after having lived for nearly a millennia. You must remember something, child, or you will end up tearing yourself apart with your own guilt."

"What?" I whisper, the tears dripping off my jaw, but I'm unwilling to move my hand from underneath those of the vampire's to wipe them away.

"You are not a god," Era applies. The words are kind, his gaze warm and understanding as he dabs a handkerchief across my cheeks. "And even if you were one, most gods are not infallible themselves. We, your people, do not expect perfection from you. Merely that you try your best. And I see once more that we were not mistaken in our choice to follow such a kind queen."

I bow my head, shoulders trembling for a minute before I manage to compose myself. "Right. I'm sorry. I'll do better, I promise."

Ezra smiles, flicking my nose. "Do not apologize. Little Queen. Instead, say thank you. It is much more befitting of you."

I giggle wetly. "Thank you, Ezra, Emilio."

XXXXXXXXXX

Derek and Stiles walk Ezra out, Emilio carefully tucked in his arms once more. I hardly even notice when Peter sidles up next to me. "So, a vampire Lord is living in the territory now. It seems you pups have been rather busy in the short time I was dead."

I huff. "We really need to get you up-to-date. A lot of people have moved in recently."

"And I imagine the number will continue to increase now that the territory has been blessed with a Guardian," Peter rumbles, his voice on the edge of being a growl.

Carefully, I reach my hand out to rest on his forearm "Are you okay?"

"Are you?' He fires back without hesitation, his hold on our already muted packbond closing a bit more.

I breathe out, reminding myself that I shouldn't be surprised by the defensive reaction. We haven't even been pack for a full day. However, I also recognize that if I want to make any progress in truly integrating him as one of us, I'll have to be the one to reach out first. "Not really, no. I fucked up. I've never done that before, not like this. Not where somebody actually got hurt."

Peter is silent, processing the words and the genuine vulnerability I offered him. Hesitantly, he shifts until his arm presses against my side. "…The overgrown bat is right. You can't expect to be flawless off the jump. It's been less than six months since… I bit you."

My lips twitch a bit at the almost sheepish tinge to his aura at the last few words. " I know, but it still really sucks. They… it must've really hurt."

Peter grunts. "You can say that again. They burned him alive. It's the most effective way to kill a vampire, frying them until their healing can't keep up anymore. Well, I guess we both know it's an effective way to kill anyone."

I wince, not sure how to approach this topic with someone who was actually burned alive. We stand in silence for a moment before, to my slight surprise, Peter decides to very quietly reciprocate my honesty. "The worst part is the smell. It's… haunting."

I nod solemnly. "Understandable. Nothing shameful about it. We all have trauma in this house. Welcome to the club. I am told that you, as the Left Hand, had a lot of supernatural contacts, so if you happen to know a good therapist…"

Peter laughs.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Peter, Jordan. Jordan, Peter. Hellhound, meet werewolf. There is a high probability that you are going to end up hiding bodies together," I introduce flatly.

Jordan had come over early today since he had a late shift tonight at the police department, so I decided to introduce him to Peter, who Derek claims is a smug, pretentious asshole with too much knowledge hoarded in his deviant head. Ally and Chris would be over soon to give us the scoop on Psycho Gramps, but would need a bit more time to get away without tipping anyone off.

Jordan gives me a pained look, but on the contrary, Peter looks delighted. "Incredible. This territory has not had a Cerberus for a very long time. At least a century."

Jordan looks hopeful. "Does that mean you have information on being a Hellhound, 'cause this whole thing is pretty new to me and I'd like to stop sleepwalking anytime now, and preferably also stop tampering with crime scenes."

"I can help with the first one, but you're kind of out of luck on the second bit," Peter drawls, plopping on the couch. "Hellhounds, or Cerberus, are amortsl spirits that, unlike shifters, are not born into hosts. Actually, they are like Guardians."

I tilt my head, intrigued. We'd found some information on hellhounds to provide Jordan, but it had been pretty limited and this is the first I'm hearing of a comparison between us. Though, that isn't surprising if we consider that information on Guardians is even more rare. "What do you mean?"

"You both were chosen. Hellhound spirits move into suitable hosts at the moment of death-"

"Moment of- Did I die?" Jordan interrupts but Peter smoothly bulldozes over him.

"-and Guardians are born after being exposed to a certain amount of supernatural energy and a nemeton decides to bond with them because they are suitable."

Huh. "So do I have an internal, individual spirit like you shifters and hellhounds?"

Peter leans forward, oozing intrigue. "Do you?"

I hesitate. "…No, I don't think so? Sometimes certain instincts take over, and I can here the nemeton, but it doesn't feel…. Seperate."

Peter hums, steepling his fingers together like a supervillain. "Fascinating."

"Sorry, can we go back to the part where you told me I died?" Jordan asks, weakly raising his hand.

"It happens to the best of us, don't concern yourself," Peter dismisses with a wave of his hand.

I pat Jordan's shoulder sympathetically, lips twitching uncontrollably as Lydia and Stiles bring over some books and research materials, Stiles carrying the laptop with our rapidly developing bestiary. I head up to my room to grab one of the books I left up there when I catch a glint of gold in the corner of my vision.

There, lying innocently on my bed, was a scepter. I stare, but sensing nothing off, I walk over and lift it. Immediately, I can feel wild power humming in it, my magic arising and swirling out on its own as my features shift and marking appear. It felt like my power was being sharpened. No, not sharpened, focused. Instinctively, I could tell that this thing was something that could amplify and direct magic and could connect easily with ley lines in particular.

Still, I note as sparks appear from the ruby bem embedded in the ornate golden setting, it has a personality. It felt a bi playful. Mischievous and stubborn, too. Its respect would have to be earned.

I blink away the daze, eyeing the elegant thing in its intricately carved glory, all of three feet yet unmistakable in presence. My fingers run over the runes etched into the gold, noticing the snakes and wolves and horses and my lips curl up into a grin as I grab the book and head down.

"Hey, Layla, did you-" Stiles slowly trails off as he looks up to find me holding out the scepter. "What is that?"

I smirk. "Looks like Loki's gift has arrived. I think it's for you, my dear mage."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Tea?" I offer mildly, setting out my fancy North African set my mother used to only use for guests. The Argents had finally arrived. 

"Yes, please," Chris says stiffly, eying Ezra, who had insisted on being here, warily from across the table. Ezra stared the hunter down, impeccable in his elegant three piece suit from his shiny gold locks to his perfect cuticles. If it wasn't for my memories of his frazzled state before dawn today and the way he is baring his fangs in that mockery of a smile, I might have been convinced he was utterly unbothered by the attack on his family. 

Initially, I hadn't wanted him here so openly. Even though I had the Argents under my thumb with vows, as a precaution, I hadn't wanted them knowing who the supernaturals in my territory were, hence why they were blindfolded during my Ascension. Ezra, however, when I suggested he conceal himself, had just sneered. His response was essentially an invitation for the hunters to fuck around and find out.

"I'm not so easily hunted as Emilio and the other children," he had purred, and now, here he is, somehow utterly menacing as he delicately sips tea out of a tiny teacup like he's on the cover of vogue while looking Chris dead in the eye the entire time.

I rub my forehead, passing Allison her own tea and setting some more cups aside. Peter saunters in, smirking, followed by Derek, Stiles, and Scott, and I sigh, having distinctly told Peter to stay hidden.

The Argents' double take is almost worth it, though, simply because of how funny it is. Chris leaps up pulling his gun and pointing it at Peter's head, Allison following his lead with what looks like some kind of taser gun. Peter just smirks wider. "Well, welll, we meet again."

"Supervillain lines? Really, Peter?" Stiles mutters, grabbing his own tea as he settles next to me.

"He's a dramatic bitch. Best get used to it now," Derek rumbles, leaning against a wall so that he can see the entire room.

"What the hell is this?" Chris growls. "Pester Hale died! We were there!"

Somehow, I am already over this whole situation, my sleep deprivation from last night kicking in hard. "It didn't stick. Regardless, it's pack business and does not concern you."

Chris shoots me an incredulous look as I let Peter settle on the counter behind me without complaint even as I shoot him a warning look to tone down the smugness he is practically oozing.

"Layla-" Chris tries but my dark look silences him. Apparently, I didn't need to be glowing to prove a point anymore. Nice.

"Technically, he killed no innocents, and his mind has been healed so that he's… relatively sane now. Besides, even human law grants immunity based on insanity. Peter Hale has been judged and has already paid with his life for anything he might have done. Are you going to challenge me on this, Christopher Argent?" I enunciate sharply, voice low and silky as I glare into the hunter's soul. I felt it then, like a lantern glowing on a still lake on a dark, moonless night, softly luminous against the black of night. In the distance, other lanterns float, sending gentle ripples through the water's surface, the representation of all the vows I held. Chris's lantern flickers dangerously in my mind's eye, and the man winces, a palm pressing over his chest as he hisses out a breath. "…No. I apologize, Your Highness."

Peter's grin turns impossibly wide, looking a little manic, but I throw a biscuit at his face before he can say whatever cutting remark was on the tip of his sly tongue. I pass out more tea cups before turning back to the hunters. "Please explain how one of my Vowed ended up nearly dead via hunters."

Allison winces. "That would be Gerrard. We swore we'd keep our subordinates in check, but we can't do anything about his exclusive minions."

Chris nods tiredly, sipping his tea like he honestly needed it. "We have no authority there until Allison takes over. Even my wife as interim matriarch can't do anything since she isn't a born Argent. We didn't even know he hunted last night until he came back. His influence is dangerously vast in our community."

"And what of Victoria, your mom? Have you guys told her that you made vows to me? Ones that mean you have to control her upon pain of death?" I ask bluntly, ignoring the way Peter began to kick his feet like a child in pure glee at the revelation. "Peter, behave, or I will kick you out."

Peter stops, but is still grinning with all of his too sharp teeth as Stiles trembles with silent laughter and Derek pointedly ignores his uncle, unwilling to deal with it. Scotty pouts, clearly disgruntled on the Argent's behalf, but Allison herself is merely gaping as though she's found herself in the twilight zone.

And fair enough, really. She had seen Peter all scary as he ripped her aunt's throat out, and now, he is acting like a frat boy with a new box of condoms and a sorority house to hit up.

Chris just glares at the eldest wolf before replying. "Yes, we told her so she wouldn't force us to move against her. She wasn't happy, but she does love Allison enough to not endanger her life through her actions. She has always taken the code seriously regardless, so hopefully, we won't have to be in conflict with her."

I eye Ally worriedly, silently asking after her, and my friend slumps. "She was livid. She still isn't talking to us, but…"

"But, she'll come around," Chris soothes, patting his daughter's back. "And she has agreed to stop all hunting as matriarch for now. So far, it seems she hasn't told Gerard either, and trust me, we'd have bigger problems if he thought Allison and I were, as he says, colluding with the enemy."

Ezra, whose demeanor hadn't softened an inch, but who's aura had, merely sets his teacup down politely. "And what of the reparations my coven is entitled to?"

Chris grimaces. " Those hunters broke the code and we have Vowed to bring codebreakers who harm innocents to justice. I'll find out their information and where they're staying. They're all yours to do with as the Guardian judges."

I hesitate only a moment. "Left Hand?"

Peter straightens, going dead serious, a stark change from his earlier demeanor. "By your new laws and the ones traditionally followed, it's up to the Guardian and injured party to determine their punishment while the left hand and alpha act as support and witnesses."

I nod grimly, knowing I'm sentencing people to die, but not really finding it in myself to feel too bad when I remember the scent of Emilio's seared flesh. "Lord Ezra, I will leave this matter to you. I apologize again for failing to protect one of yours."

Ezra's hand on my head is infinitely kind, reminding me of Papa Sheriff's. "Apologize no more, Little Queen. Thank you for bringing us justice. I will make the arrangements with the Alpha and Left Hand."

I nod grimly. Then, I turn back to Chris, noting his clenched fists and a downcast Allison. "I…. I am not sorry I am putting you in this situation. I don't really think our decision here is wrong, but I am regretful that it has to be this way. I know it cannot be easy for you."

Allison, who had been staring into her teacup for a while now, set it down, a determined expression crossing her face. "That's why we have to change things, though, isn't it? it doesn't always have to be like this, and one day, if we work hard enough, it won't be. As the Argent matriarch, I'll make it so that my code prevails over the old one and that supernaturals and humans can live in peace together."

The room is stunned speechless for a moment as we all look at the young girl and the determined set to her shoulders, and my lips curl into a grin for the first time in a while. "Right. Let's work hard together then."

XXXXXXXXXX

AUTOR'S NOTES; 💙 missed y'all. As always let me know creatures you want to see and plot points you like.