The first thing I felt was pain.
Not the existential emptiness of the void, but real, physical pain. My head was pounding like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my skull. My muscles ached. My mouth was dry.
I had a body again.
My eyes flew open, and I immediately regretted it as bright afternoon sunlight lanced through my pupils. I groaned, throwing an arm over my face as I waited for my eyes to adjust. Slowly, carefully, I lowered my arm and took in my surroundings.
I was in a bedroom. A massive bedroom, actually, easily three times the size of any bedroom I remembered from my previous life. The walls were painted a soft cream color and adorned with tasteful modern art. A huge flat-screen TV was mounted on one wall, facing a California king bed with black silk sheets that I was currently tangled in. To my right, floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of manicured gardens and a sparkling pool. To my left, a door stood open, revealing a walk-in closet that could double as a small apartment.
This was wealth. Real, serious, generational wealth.
I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it as the headache intensified, bringing with it a flood of memories that weren't mine—or rather, were mine now.
Lucien Vale. Fourteen years old. Born in Los Angeles to Laura and Jaden Vale, a power couple and business moguls whose combined net worth put them firmly in the top one percent of the one percent. Private schools, exotic vacations, everything money could buy.
And then, one week ago, tragedy. His parents had decided to take a second honeymoon to the Himalayas. Some resorts in Nepal cater to the ultra-wealthy. The flight had been smooth until it wasn't. Something went wrong with the plane's navigation systems. By the time the pilots realized they were off course, they were already too close to the mountain.
The crash was instant. The explosion consumed everything. No bodies were recovered.
Lucien became an orphan overnight. The sole heir to a business empire worth billions. The media had been in a frenzy for days, but the family's lawyers had quickly shut it down. Privacy for the grieving teenage son. No interviews. No photos. Just a brief statement and then silence.
I sat up slowly, cradling my head as the memories settled into place. They felt real, as real as my memories from before the void. I could remember my mother's laugh, my father's terrible golf swing, birthday parties, Christmas mornings, and a lifetime of privilege.
But I also remembered the void. Remembered the being. Remembered making my wishes.
I looked down at my hands. They were younger than I expected, with smooth skin, no calluses or scars. Fourteen-year-old hands. I flexed my fingers experimentally, then pushed myself out of bed and walked to the full-length mirror mounted on the wall beside the bed.
The face looking back at me was unfamiliar and yet exactly what I'd asked for. Short white hair, styled in artful spikes. Sharp gray eyes that seemed to catch the light. Angular jawline, high cheekbones, the kind of face that would turn heads once I grew into it. Right now, at fourteen, I looked striking but not quite finished, still had some growing to do before I hit the full six-foot-three I'd requested.
I was wearing black silk pajama pants and nothing else, giving me a clear view of my torso. The swimmer's build was already there, lean muscle, defined abs, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. The R.O.B. had been thorough.
"Okay," I said aloud, and the sound of my own voice startled me. It was deeper than I expected, already starting to break. "Okay. This is real. I'm really here."
I took a deep breath, then another. Centered myself.
Fourteen years old. Orphaned. Wealthy beyond measure. Living in Los Angeles.
And I was a primordial wolf.
The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I could feel it now, lurking just beneath my skin, something vast and powerful, waiting to be unleashed. It wasn't like the memories, which had come in a sudden flood. This was a constant presence, a low hum of potential energy.
I needed to test it.
I closed my eyes and reached inward, searching for that presence. It responded immediately, surging up to meet me like a wave. My eyes snapped open, and I gasped.
In the mirror, my reflection's eyes had changed. The gray irises were now completely consumed by brilliant silver light, so bright it almost hurt to look at. They seemed to glow from within, like molten metal, casting faint shadows on my face.
"Holy shit," I whispered.
I raised my hands, and this time when I flexed my fingers, I focused on the change. My nails elongated, thickened, and became razor-sharp claws that gleamed in the sunlight. They were longer than normal werewolf claws—I could tell instinctively—and sharper too. Designed to rend and tear.
The power thrummed through me, begging to be used. I could feel my muscles coiling, ready to explode into motion. My senses had sharpened too; I could hear the servants moving around downstairs, could smell the chlorine from the pool mixed with jasmine from the garden, could feel the individual threads in the carpet beneath my feet.
This was what I'd asked for. This was what I'd been given.
I took a deep breath and pulled back, forcing the wolf to recede. My claws retracted, my eyes faded back to gray. The power didn't disappear—I could still feel it—but it settled down, content to wait.
"Okay," I said again, steadier this time. "Okay. I can work with this."
I turned away from the mirror and headed for the bathroom. It was as obscenely luxurious as the rest of the suite, marble everything, rainfall shower, jacuzzi tub, heated floors. I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror and paused.
There was something in my eyes. Not the silver glow, but something else. A hardness, maybe. A weight. The eyes of someone who'd spent thousands of years floating in the void, slowly dissolving into nothing.
I looked away.
The shower helped. Hot water sluiced away the lingering aches and pains, the physical reminder that I had a body again. I stood under the spray for a long time, letting my mind catch up to my circumstances.
I was in the Teen Wolf universe. The show wouldn't start for another year, I'd arrived before canon, which was smart. It gave me time to prepare, to build power bases, to get ready for what was coming.
But first, I needed to establish myself here. Secure my inheritance. Build a team. Figure out how to use my powers without drawing unwanted attention.
And I needed to get to Beacon Hills.
The thought crystallized as I stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Los Angeles was fine, but it wasn't where the story happened. Beacon Hills was the supernatural nexus, the place where everything important would go down. I needed to be there when it started.
I pulled on clothes from the closet: black jeans, a black long-sleeve shirt, combat boots, and a silver chain around my neck. Simple, functional, with just enough edge to match my new appearance. When I checked the mirror, I looked good. Confident. Dangerous, maybe, in a controlled way.
Perfect.
I made my way downstairs, following my new memories through the mansion's layout. The place was enormous, with multiple wings, a dozen bedrooms, entertainment rooms, a home theater, and a gym that looked like it belonged in a professional training facility. My footsteps echoed on marble floors as I walked through halls decorated with expensive art and family photos that now made my chest ache in ways I wasn't expecting.
The dining room was near the back of the house, overlooking the pool and gardens. It could easily seat twenty people, though right now it felt cavernous and empty. A long table stretched down the center, dark wood polished to a mirror shine.
Standing beside the table was a man I recognized from my inherited memories. Jake. Former special operations, now head of security for the Vale family. Six-foot-four, built like a tank, with a shaved head and a scar running down his left cheek. He'd been with my parents for years, and his loyalty had transferred to me upon their death.
"Good morning, young master," Jake said, his voice a deep rumble. "I hope you slept well."
"I did," I replied, taking a seat at the head of the table. It felt strange, sitting where my father used to sit, but I pushed the discomfort aside. "Though there's a lot that needs to be done. I hope you're ready to be busy, Jake."
A maid appeared from the kitchen—one of several staff who maintained the property—and placed a plate of breakfast in front of me. Eggs, bacon, toast, and fresh fruit. A glass of orange juice. Coffee, black. I nodded my thanks, and she disappeared again.
"I'm at your service, sir," Jake said, though I detected a hint of curiosity in his tone. He was probably wondering why a fourteen-year-old orphan was suddenly talking about business.
I took a bite of eggs, chewing thoughtfully. "I need you to do several things for me. First, I want you to find a property in Beacon Hills, California. Somewhere we can build a secure compound, I'm talking fortress-level security. Gates, cameras, the works. Buy enough land that we have privacy."
Jake's eyebrows rose slightly. "Beacon Hills? That's a small town, sir. May I ask why?"
"Personal reasons," I said smoothly. "I've done research on the area, and I think it would be good for us to establish a presence there. Diversification of assets, that sort of thing. Plus, I could use a change of scenery. Too many memories here."
The last part wasn't a lie. These memories of my parents, of growing up in this house, were real to me now, and they hurt. Getting away from Los Angeles would help.
Jake nodded slowly. "Understood, sir. When would you like to make the move?"
"Next summer. That gives us about a year to get everything ready. Which brings me to my second request: I want you to hire soldiers."
That got a reaction. Jake's hand twitched toward his hip, where I knew he kept a concealed firearm. Old habits.
"Soldiers, sir?"
"Discharged veterans, preferably special forces like yourself. People who need work and won't ask too many questions. I want them trained and ready to serve as private security for the Beacon Hills property. Can you handle that?"
Jake studied me for a long moment. I met his gaze calmly, projecting confidence I didn't entirely feel. Finally, he nodded.
"I can. But sir, if I may ask, are you expecting trouble?"
"Let's just say I believe in being prepared," I replied. "My parents died because something went wrong, and they weren't ready for it. I don't plan to make the same mistake."
It was a manipulation, playing on the tragedy, but it worked. Jake's expression softened slightly.
"Very well, sir. I'll begin making inquiries immediately. Was there anything else?"
"Yes. I want martial arts instructors. Multiple disciplines, Krav Maga, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Muay Thai, whatever you think would be most practical. I want to start training within the month."
Another pause. Another calculating look.
"You're fourteen, sir."
"I'm aware. I'm also an orphan with more money than I know what to do with and no parents to tell me no. I can either spend my time partying and wasting my inheritance, or I can use it to become something more. Which would you prefer?"
The corner of Jake's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Point taken, sir. I'll find you the best instructors available."
"Good. One more thing, I need someone to help run the company. I'm smart, but I'm not ready to run a multibillion-dollar business empire on my own. Find me someone brilliant, trustworthy, and discreet. Someone who won't try to take advantage of a teenage CEO."
"I may have someone in mind already," Jake said. "Sarah Rose. She was being considered for a VP position before... before the accident. Brilliant strategist, MBA from Wharton, and more importantly, she has a reputation for integrity. She turned down several higher-paying offers because they wanted her to engage in questionable practices."
"Set up a meeting," I said immediately. "If she's half as good as you say, I want her on retainer as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir." Jake hesitated, then added, "If I may say so, sir... your parents would be proud of how you're handling this."
The words hit harder than I expected. I looked down at my plate, suddenly not hungry anymore.
"Thank you, Jake. That means a lot. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things to take care of."
I stood and walked away before he could see the conflict on my face. These weren't my parents, not really. They were the parents of a life created for me, memories implanted by an omnipotent being to give me a backstory.
But the grief felt real. The loss felt real.
Maybe that was the point.
I spent the rest of the day exploring the mansion and the grounds, familiarizing myself with my new home. The gym became my favorite spot almost immediately—state-of-the-art equipment, plenty of space, perfect for testing my enhanced abilities in private.
I started with something simple. Lifting weights. The bar that normally held 45-pound plates felt like a toy in my hands. I kept adding weight, stacking plates until I had over 500 pounds on the bar. Then I pressed it overhead like it was nothing.
Strength. Definitely had that covered.
Next was speed. I set up a running track on the grounds and timed myself. Forty yards in under three seconds, and I wasn't even pushing my limits. For comparison, the fastest human 40-yard dash was over four seconds. I was already superhuman, and I hadn't even shifted.
Healing was harder to test. I wasn't about to deliberately injure myself, but I could feel it humming beneath my skin, ready to activate if needed.
As the sun set and the sky turned orange and purple, I stood by the pool and thought about the void walk ability. The R.O.B. had granted my wish, but I hadn't tested it yet. Didn't even know how to activate it.
I closed my eyes and reached inward again, past the wolf, toward something else. Something that felt like empty space and infinite potential all at once.
There.
I grabbed onto that feeling and pulled.
Reality stuttered.
The world around me went gray, color bleeding away. Sounds became muffled, distant. I looked down and saw that I was... translucent? Not invisible, but not entirely solid either. Like I existed halfway between dimensions.
I was in the void. Not the endless darkness where I'd spent millennia, but a shallow pocket of it, a space between spaces.
I took a step forward and felt resistance, like walking through water. But when I released the ability and snapped back into reality, I'd moved about fifteen feet in an instant.
Short-range teleportation. Just like I'd asked for.
I grinned and practiced for the next hour, blinking around the property until I got a feel for the limitations. I could manage about three jumps in quick succession before I needed to rest. Each jump could cover up to 20 feet. And I couldn't use it while in wolf form, at least, not yet. Maybe with practice.
By the time I went back inside, I was exhausted but exhilarated. This was real. The powers were real. I was really a primordial wolf with void manipulation abilities in the Teen Wolf universe.
Now I just had to survive long enough to enjoy it.
That night, I lay in my massive bed and stared at the ceiling, mind racing with plans and possibilities.
One year. That's what I had before moving to Beacon Hills. One year to train, to prepare, to build the foundation for everything that would come after.
I thought about the timeline. The show started when Scott was a sophomore, which meant I had about two years before canon began. Plenty of time to establish myself, make connections, maybe even recruit some allies.
I'd need betas eventually. Loyal ones, not the backstabbing kind that seemed so common in the show. People I could trust, who could trust me in return.
I'd need to be careful around the hunters. The Argents would be the main concern, though if I played my cards right, I might be able to avoid conflict with them entirely. Maybe even become friends with Allison before everything went to hell.
And Peter... what would I do about Peter Hale? The man was a monster, but he was also a victim. Burned alive, left comatose for years, driven mad by pain and a thirst for revenge. Could he be saved? Should he be saved?
Too many questions. Too many variables.
But I had time. And I had power.
I closed my eyes and felt the wolf stirring beneath my skin, content and patient. We would figure it out together.
After all, I hadn't spent thousands of years in the void just to waste my second chance.
This was my story now.
And I was going to make it count.