Teen Wolf: Savage Roots
Chapter 2 — The Banshee's Warning
Morning in Beacon Hills had never felt so quiet.
Too quiet.
Inside her lake house, Lydia Martin sat alone at the kitchen table. Papers were scattered everywhere—some blank, some covered in frantic handwriting.
She didn't remember writing most of it.
Her fingers tightened around the pen.
Her mind drifted.
Then—
A sharp ringing pierced her ears.
Lydia froze.
Her breathing slowed.
"No…" she whispered.
The world around her faded.
The kitchen vanished.
Darkness swallowed everything.
---
She stood somewhere cold.
Wind howled through a massive open space that looked like a ruined cathedral carved from stone.
Blood dripped from the walls.
Slow.
Steady.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Lydia's heartbeat echoed loudly in the empty space.
Then she heard something.
A voice.
Low.
Ancient.
"The sea will rise…"
Lydia turned.
Far across the room stood a gigantic stone door.
Cracked.
Ancient.
Barely open.
Something inside moved.
The whisper returned.
"Death is coming."
Suddenly Lydia screamed.
---
Her eyes snapped open.
She gasped violently, knocking over the chair as she stumbled back from the table.
The pen had carved deep into the paper.
Words covered the page.
Dozens of them.
The same message repeated again and again.
DEATH IS COMING
THE DEEP SEA RISES
Her hands trembled.
"Scott…" she whispered.
---
Across town, Scott was already on the phone.
Inside the old animal clinic, the familiar smell of antiseptic and dusty wood filled the air.
Scott paced back and forth.
"Yeah… yeah, I know it sounds insane," said Scott McCall into the phone.
"I'm not saying it might be supernatural. I'm saying it definitely is."
There was a pause.
Scott sighed.
"I know, Deaton. That's why I called you."
A calm voice answered on the other end.
Alan Deaton.
"Bring whatever evidence you have," Deaton said calmly. "Meet me at the old clinic."
Scott nodded, even though Deaton couldn't see him.
"I'm already on my way."
He hung up.
Scott looked back at the street outside.
The blood message was already being washed away by city workers.
But the smell still lingered.
Whoever did it…
Wanted him to see it first.
---
Miles away, in a quiet apartment in London—
Ethan Steiner sat alone in a dimly lit room.
Rain tapped softly against the window.
In his hands was an old photograph.
Two boys stood side by side in it.
Both smiling.
Both identical.
Ethan and his twin brother.
Aiden Steiner.
Ethan stared at the picture silently.
Then he sighed.
"Years have passed, brother," he muttered quietly.
His thumb brushed across Aiden's face in the photo.
"It's been so long since you died."
The room stayed silent.
But Ethan's eyes remained closed.
As if hoping for an answer that would never come.
The bathroom door opened.
Steam drifted out.
Jackson Whittemore stepped out, a towel hanging around his neck, his hair still wet.
He noticed Ethan sitting there.
"You okay?" Jackson asked.
Ethan quickly wiped the emotion from his face.
He forced a small smile.
"Yeah."
Jackson walked closer.
For a moment they simply looked at each other.
Then Ethan stood.
The distance between them disappeared.
They kissed.
A quiet moment.
A brief peace in a world that rarely allowed it.
But even as Ethan closed his eyes…
His hand still held the photograph.
---
Back in Beacon Hills, the old veterinary clinic looked almost exactly the same as it had years ago.
Dusty.
Quiet.
Familiar.
Scott stood beside a metal table while Alan Deaton carefully studied a sample of the dried blood Scott had collected.
Deaton adjusted his glasses.
He leaned closer to the microscope.
A long silence passed.
Scott crossed his arms.
"Well?"
Deaton slowly stood upright.
His expression had changed.
"That blood…" he said.
"It's human."
Scott frowned.
"What?"
Deaton turned toward him.
"Someone is trying to ruin the world of the supernatural."
Scott's stomach tightened.
Deaton continued.
"And they're not just coming for you."
He paused.
"They're coming for every supernatural creature on Earth."
Scott exhaled slowly.
He nodded.
"Yeah…"
Then he sighed.
"There's something else."
Deaton looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
Scott reached into his pocket.
Slowly, he pulled something out.
A small dark crystal.
It looked like black glass—but something about it felt wrong.
The moment it touched the table, the room felt colder.
Deaton frowned.
"What is that?"
Scott shook his head.
"I don't know."
He swallowed.
"I found it where the blood message was."
Deaton carefully picked it up.
He examined it closely.
Then his eyes widened slightly.
"It smells like mountain ash…" Deaton muttered.
"But it's burning."
Scott frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Suddenly Deaton coughed.
Violently.
The crystal slipped from his hand and clattered onto the floor.
Deaton stumbled.
Scott moved instantly.
He caught Deaton before he could fall.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked.
Deaton steadied himself, breathing heavily.
After a moment, he nodded.
Scott let him go.
Deaton looked down at the crystal glowing faintly on the ground.
Then he said quietly:
"Scott… this is Burning Ash."
Scott stared at him, confused.
"What?"
Deaton's voice lowered.
"It's deadly."
He paused.
"Only to humans."
Scott slowly turned back toward the crystal on the floor.
It glowed faintly in the sunlight coming through the window.
Behind him, Deaton placed a hand on Scott's shoulder.
"Scott," he said.
"There's someone out there trying to destroy the balance between the human world and the supernatural."
He looked Scott directly in the eyes.
"You cannot win this battle alone."
Scott stared at the sunlight reflecting through the clinic window.
His jaw tightened.
Then he spoke quietly.
"I know.