Chapter 6: Ball and a stick

"So you're telling me that lacrosse—a sport I've never even heard of—is more popular than the biggest sport in the world?"

"Welcome to Beacon Hills, where lacrosse is king," Rowan said with a grin.

"What the hell even is lacrosse?" Iván shouted.

"You play with a ball and a stick," Rowan replied.

"A ball and a stick, huh? Last I checked, real sports are played with your feet or your hands, not with a stick."

"So… hockey isn't a real sport now?" Rowan raised an eyebrow.

"Wait—are you telling me lacrosse is like hockey, but without the ice?" Iván asked.

"Basically. It combines elements from a bunch of other sports," Rowan said with a shrug. "As for soccer… sorry to say, there hasn't been enough interest to form a team in, like, ten years."

Iván slammed his hand on the table. "I want justice! This can't be true—I'm filing a complaint with the school board!" he declared, trying not to tear up.

"Hey, if you want to try out for a sport, lacrosse is holding tryouts next week for freshmen."

Iván sighed. "That's okay, I'm good. What about you, Aurora? Are you planning to try out for anything?" he asked.

Aurora wasn't listening—her focus was locked on Rowan, the strain of magic was clinging on him.

"Um, Aurora?" Iván said, trying to get her attention.

She turned to him, "Yeah? What is it?"

"Are you trying out for anything?" he repeated, a bit more hesitant this time.

"Oh, I'm not interested in that sort of thing," she replied, her tone flat.

Rowan stepped in, curiosity in his voice. "So, Aurora, where did you say you're from?"

"France," she answered sharply.

"You're a bloodsucker, aren't you?" Rowan said—switching to French, leaving Iván confused and clearly out of the loop.

"And you're a witch," she replied, arms crossed, repeating in French.

Iván blinked. "Uh… what are you two saying?"

Still speaking in French, the boy asked, "Why are your kind here?"

Realizing they were deep in conversation and clearly not including him, Iván sighed and pulled out his phone. With only a few minutes left before the bell rang, he started scrolling through Twitter to pass the time.

"You don't need to know that," she replied coldly. "But if you want to keep living, you'd better tell me why you're here."

Her eyes flashed red for just a second—just long enough for Rowan to see.

"You should watch your attitude, bloodsucker. You forget—you're in my town," he said, just as the cafeteria lights began to flicker.

"I don't think you understand who you're dealing with," she replied, the air around them grew colder by the second.

"Then enlighten me," he challenged, locking eyes with her.

"Two words," she said, her voice like ice. "Valentines Coven."

The color drained from Rowan's face. At that moment, he understood exactly who had come to town.

She could be lying, of course. But then he noticed the necklace resting over her sweater—the pendant barely visible, yet unmistakable. The crest of the Valentines Coven.

How could he have been so stupid not to notice it sooner? He wanted to smack himself. Provoking them was a death sentence. His family wasn't nearly strong enough to deal with that kind of threat—not after the fall of the Hales.

"Let me apologize," he said. "I didn't mean any harm. It's just… my family used to serve the Hales—the werewolf pack that once ruled this region."

Aurora, satisfied with his response, let his outburst slide. "I accept your apology," she said, her gaze narrowing slightly. "But I need to be sure of something." She looked at him, listening closely to the rhythm of his heartbeat. "Are you involved with the current Alpha?"

"No, we're not," he said truthfully.

But before she could ask another question, something shifted.

Sensing that familiar ripple in the air—the subtle disturbance that came whenever magic or supernatural abilities were being used.

Rowan and Aurora glanced in Iván's direction.

He was casually scrolling through Twitter, completely unaware.

That his body… was reacting.

To them.

Which could only mean one thing—Iván had an ability.

It wasn't something obvious like super speed, magic, or brute strength. No, this was something rarer.

Like when a human is turned into a vampire, there's a chance that they might awaken a gift. A unique ability, either mental or physical.

Aurora's was elemental, tied to ice.

His… she wasn't sure yet. But the signs were there.

Rowan however, looked like he realized something and quickly checked the clock. "Oh, would you look at the time? The bell's about to ring. See you around, Iván. Aurora." He gave a casual wave and walked off.

"He knew something I didn't," Aurora muttered, watching him leave.

"It was nice meeting you, Rowan," Iván called out with a wave.

Then he turned to Aurora. "So… what were you two talking about?"

"He was just asking what part of France I'm from, when I moved here—stuff like that."

"Oh, alright. I guess we should head to class then," Iván said.

Aurora, however, had only one thought on her mind—this boy's powers had to be the reason she was sent here.

But then came the real question:

Should she tell him about the supernatural world… or let him remain in the dark?

And who am I protecting him from?

A few weeks ago… 

Aurora, her face expressionless, walked through the grand halls of the valentine estate. 

She pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside, where her mother awaited her.

Without hesitation, Aurora knelt.

"You requested my presence, Mother?"

"Ah, my little Aurora," her mother said warmly as she approached, gently pinching her cheeks. "You, of all my children, shouldn't feel the need to kneel before me."

"Yes, Mother." Aurora rose to her feet.

"Now then," her mother continued, her tone turning serious, "I have a task for you. I'm sending you to a town called Beacon Hills. A family is moving there soon, and there's a boy I want you to watch over and protect—until further notice."

"May I ask why?" Aurora asked.

"You may not," her mother replied, her tone firm but affectionate. "Now run along, my child. And whatever you do, don't draw any unwanted attention. That will be all."

With a graceful wave of her hand, she dismissed her.

After a few moments of silence, a voice broke through the room.

"Vanessa, why keep her in the dark?" The voice is quiet yet firm.

"In due time, I will tell her the truth," Vanessa replied. "But for now, have you any news of the Originals' whereabouts?"

The figure expression darkened. "I still fail to understand your fixation on them."

"Have you so easily forgotten what they did?" she asked, her tone laced with restrained fury.

"They used our fallen comrade as the foundation of the spell that birthed their cursed kind—yes, I remember," he said solemnly.

"Then you must also remember that 'she' would never have allowed such abominations to endure."

"That may be true… but 'she' is gone, Vanessa. You must let her rest."

"I have, Roy," she said, her gaze sharpening as it met his. "I'm not the one obsessed with bringing her back."

He gave a reluctant nod. "Fair enough. And the boy… are you certain he's the one?"

"I am," she answered without hesitation. "Without a doubt."