Without a second to spare Stefan dialed Bonnie's number too, to which she quickly answered.
Bonnie's voice is calm, but alert—even before he speaks. "Stefan? It's late. Something wrong?" She already knows the answer. She can feel it in the static of the night.
Stefan sits back on the garden bench, running a hand over his face. "We have a situation. A big one."
A moment of silence stretch the air between them.
"I've just got off the phone with Paul."
Silence on the other end—then a slow exhale.
"Paul… as in that Paul? Werewolf territory on the outskirts of Forks?"
"Yeah," Stefan says quietly. "That one. And he just told me that Aria… isn't just some human girl caught up in a supernatural crossfire."
Bonnie tenses, sensing where this is going. "What did he say?"
"He mentioned something about her lineage—about an ancient group called... the Ashokan Sisters."
A sharp breath cuts through from Bonnie's end. "No... You're not serious?"
"Yes," Stefan presses. "Deadly serious. And Paul said her powers are unawoken—but they're there. Dormant, tied to blood and fate. And if Anima Cantat has chosen her… Then she was never meant to stay innocent."
Bonnie goes quiet for several long seconds—the kind of silence only witches know when magic shifts beneath their skin like tectonic plates preparing to break open earth.
Finally, Bonnie spoke up: "Aria is one of them?" Her voice trembles slightly—not with fear, but recognition. "The Ashokan Sisters were real—they weren't myth or legend passed down by bored elders at solstice fires... They were guardians—witches born under eclipses every hundred years—a bloodline sworn to balance light and dark when chaos threatens both human and supernatural realms."
She swallows hard. One sister for each element: fire, water, air, earth—and then there was always said that one more were to be born... The Anchor—the fifth sister—who could walk between worlds without tearing them apart... Spirit... These sisters always appeared during times of great convergence…"
Another beat—as realization crashes into Stefan like thunderclap lighting across the sky: "Then Aria isn't just fated to Derek Hale because their souls sing… She's being drawn into him because she's needed now. Not only as a lover— But as part of something far older than love."
Bonny whispers: "I need you all here tomorrow night, this changes everything."
***
Meanwhile in Beacon Hills, unaware of what's unfolding around her, unaware of the power of the Anima Cantat, activating in full effect. Aria slides a hand down her tummy in the heat of the moment, like she's being puppeteered by Derek himself, little does she know that his experiencing the same thing, and at the same moment.
The pull is like a vise, holding Derek in a tight grip he has no interest in fighting. His fingers flex involuntarily, breath hitching at the sudden sensation—sharp and unexpected as a current beneath his skin.
He closes his eyes—trying not to imagine Aria underneath him.
_That face... those eyes... the sound she'd make if he—_He shoves that thought away, jaw tightening.
No!
He would not think about her in that way.
Aria's hand slid lower still, like she had no control of the moment.
Derek gasps—eyes flying open, pupils blown wide—even though no one's touched him.
A jolt rips through his body, so intense it nearly drops him to his knees. His back arches slightly against the cabin wall behind him as heat floods his veins—centering low in his gut like fire pooling in his blood.
His breath comes ragged.
"What… the hell…" He looks down at himself—hands trembling like they've just come from touching her skin when he hasn't seen her since Scott and his trustworthy sidekick dragged her away.
And yet… He feels every shift of her fingers.
Derek feels the warmth beneath them. The slow descent along soft flesh. The unconscious hitch in her breath—as if she's drowning in sensation and doesn't understand why. He lets out a broken growl, claws unsheathing without command.
"ARIA..."
Her name escapes like a prayer and a curse all at once—and with it, something ancient inside him wakes fully for the first time.
This isn't just desire.
It isn't even instinct.
It's Anima Cantat. Raw and absolute.
Their souls aren't just singing—they're entwined, resonating across distance, syncing pulse with pulse, touch with touch... even now, when they're miles apart and neither means to reach for the other, but fate doesn't care about intent.
And this connection? It's no longer asking to be acknowledged. It's claiming them both.
A moan involatile, escaped her lips, a sound filled with lust; embedded itself in Derek's ears, like she's within reach. Derek slams a hand against the wall to keep himself upright—the wood splintering beneath his palm.
"God damn it..."
He can feel her, almost as if she were right there—lips parted, pupils blown—aching for more. Aching for him. Another deep growl rips from his throat as his fangs descend. Derek's control is fraying fast…
Her fingers reached the brim of her wet folds, and instantly reacted to her own touch. But it feels foreign like it's not her own hand. "Derek..." She softly moaned his name. The way she whispered against her own skin, voice so soft she didn't even know she'd spoken—yet his name slips from her lips like a secret she doesn't understand.
Derek's head snaps up as something shatters inside him—something primal and dangerous. It's as if he's hearing her call for him, and it set fire to every nerve he owns.
"Jesus Christ..."
Aria opened her eyes, looking up at the ceiling, eyes molten. Dark and big with need as she arched her back, bucking into the feel of her hand. Not knowing what's gotten into her, as she'd never acted this way before. Every nerve end on fire. Every fiber consumed by lust, like a blazing sword through her veins.
Derek's knees buckle then as if he's feeling everything she's feeling.
His hand drops from the wall, falling to the floor as his claws digs harshly—the wood cracking beneath him. He can't fight this anymore. Doesn't even want to.
"Aria…"
Unintentionally his claws appeared, scraping deep strokes into the wooden boards. Fangs nipping against his lip, hard enough to taste blood. The world around him turned into shades of red. His alpha quickly loosing control. The scent of Aria's pleasure hits him like molten honey—sweet and overwhelming, filling his lungs and igniting every inch of him as he sinks deeper into the pull of Anima Cantat.
His mind drifts into a hazy fog of need—a need for her skin against his, her scent, her heat, her taste… Derek feels out of breath... Overwhelmed... Completely disoriented... Lost in a moment of utter desire.
The world around Derek narrows—sound fading, colors bleeding into darkness except for one glowing thread stretching across miles of forest, distance, time... connecting him to her.
Aria.
He can feel every pulse of her heartbeat in the base of his spine. Every tremor beneath her fingertips echoes through his own body—as if they're sharing not just sensation… but soul.
His voice comes out broken, a raw whisper torn from deep within, like a broken lyre: "I can… feel her… As if her hands are on me... As if I'm the one touching her..."
Derek claws deeply at the floorboards , not in pain—but in desperation. He wants to move. Wants to run. To find her and claim what's been calling to him since that first damn glance. But more than that? He fears what would happen when he finally does. Because this isn't just lust. This is fate wrapping them both up in something ancient and irreversible—and it doesn't care about promises or fear or consequences.
It only knows: They were meant for each other.
Aria falls limply back into the softness, as she came down from her high. Her thighs shaking. Drenched to the bone. Breathing heavily.
Derek goes rigid on the floor, chest heaving as raw, animal desire floods his veins. His body is on edge, aching just as deeply as hers—every breath labored as he desperately tries to cling to his last shreds of control.
"I need... I need… You." Derek took the last bit of energy he had and jerked himself off, not for a moment considering what it would do to her.
The moment Derek releases himself—hot and desperate against the cold wood floor—Aria jolts as if struck by lightning. She gasps, back arching violently off the bed. Another climax tears through her—unexpected, uncontrollable—a second wave so intense it blinds her for a heartbeat. "No. No no no…"
She didn't even touch herself again. Didn't mean to feel anything—but her body betrays her completely, wracked with pleasure that isn't hers alone. Derek's release became hers.
Their connection wasn't just emotional or spiritual anymore. It was physical. Synchronized.
And in that moment—in the aftermath of shared ecstasy and trembling limbs—they both realize something deep in their bones: They are not separate beings any longer. They are two halves singing the same song for the first time… Even though they've seen each other only once before.