Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Elorie’s earliest memories were shrouded in the dense, shadowy woods that surrounded the Anders Witch Coven—a place where the air was thick with magic and the trees stood like silent sentinels, guarding secrets as old as time itself. The coven was ancient, its roots tracing back through centuries of powerful witches, each generation passing down their magic, their traditions, and their fears. Elorie had been born into this world of power and mysticism, but from the very beginning, she had been different.

The elders of the coven were formidable, their faces etched with the wisdom and weariness of those who had seen too much. They were the keepers of the coven’s secrets, the arbiters of its fate, and they viewed Elorie with a mix of suspicion and dread. She was a child born of magic, but her magic was wrong—tainted, they would say. It didn’t flow naturally through her as it did with the others; instead, it twisted and turned, coiling inside her like a serpent waiting to strike.

As a small child, Elorie didn’t fully understand why the other children avoided her, why their mothers would pull them away when she approached, or why the elders’ eyes would narrow with something akin to fear whenever she entered the room. She tried to fit in, to be like the others, but there was always a barrier, invisible yet impenetrable, separating her from the rest of the coven.

It wasn’t until she was five years old that she overheard the elders speaking about her. She had been playing alone in the garden, hidden away from sight, when their voices drifted through the open window of the meeting hall. Their words were like icy daggers, stabbing through the innocence of her young mind.

“She’s a siphoner,” one of the elders said, her voice low but filled with contempt. “An abomination. She must be discarded before she brings ruin upon us all.”

Elorie’s heart clenched as she crouched beneath the window, listening to their discussion. They spoke of her as though she were a disease, a plague that needed to be eradicated. They feared her power—an ability to siphon magic from others, to absorb it into herself and wield it in ways they couldn’t control. It was a power that made her dangerous, unpredictable, and, in their eyes, expendable.

“Her mother refuses to see reason,” another elder added, his tone laced with frustration. “She’s blinded by love. But we cannot allow this child to live. The risk is too great.”

Elorie’s small hands trembled as she clutched the hem of her dress, her mind racing to make sense of what she was hearing. They wanted to kill her. The very people who were supposed to protect her, to teach her about the world of magic, were plotting to end her life. The realization was a cold, hard truth that settled deep in her bones, chilling her to the core.

But what frightened her even more was the idea that they might succeed. Her mother, the one person who had always been her protector, was all that stood between her and the coven’s wrath. If the elders could convince her mother to abandon her, Elorie knew she would have no chance.

The days that followed were a blur of fear and uncertainty. Elorie’s mother had sensed the growing tension within the coven, the whispers that grew louder with each passing day, the sidelong glances that held more than just suspicion. She knew what was coming, and she knew she had to act before it was too late.

One night, long after the coven had settled into an uneasy sleep, Elorie’s mother woke her with a gentle shake. “We have to go,” she whispered, her voice urgent but calm. Elorie blinked up at her, still groggy from sleep, but the look in her mother’s eyes snapped her into full awareness.

“Where are we going?” Elorie asked, her voice small and trembling as she was pulled out of bed and dressed in warm clothes.

“Somewhere safe,” her mother replied, her tone leaving no room for questions. She wrapped a thick cloak around Elorie’s small shoulders, fastening it securely before pulling up the hood to conceal her face. “We can’t stay here anymore, Elorie. It’s not safe for you.”

Elorie’s heart pounded in her chest as she followed her mother out of their small cottage, the night air biting at her skin. The forest around them was eerily silent, as if even the trees were holding their breath, waiting for something terrible to happen. They moved quickly, slipping through the shadows like ghosts, avoiding the paths and keeping to the underbrush. The journey was long and grueling, with each step taking them farther from the only home Elorie had ever known.

As they traveled, her mother explained the situation in terms that a five-year-old could understand. The coven feared her, feared the power she held, and they were planning to take her away, to “discard” her. The word made Elorie’s stomach churn with dread.

“But why?” Elorie asked, her voice trembling as they paused to rest by a small stream, the water reflecting the pale light of the moon.

“Because they don’t understand,” her mother replied, brushing a lock of hair from Elorie’s face. “They’re afraid of what they can’t control, and they think… they think it’s better to destroy what they fear.”

“Will they find us?” The question was asked with the innocence of a child, but the fear behind it was very real.

“They won’t,” her mother said firmly, though Elorie could hear the uncertainty hidden beneath her words. “We’re going far away, to a place where they can’t reach us.”

That place, as Elorie would later learn, was America. The journey was long, crossing borders and oceans, with her mother always looking over her shoulder, always fearing that the coven would come after them. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the fear began to fade, replaced by a cautious hope that they might actually be safe.

Their destination was a small town called Mystic Falls, a place that her mother assured her was far removed from the magical world they had left behind. It was here that they would start anew, far from the dark woods of the Anders Witch Coven, far from the cold, judgmental eyes of the elders who had condemned Elorie as an abomination.

In Mystic Falls, Elorie’s mother sought refuge with an old sorority sister, Jenna Sommers. Jenna was everything the coven was not—warm, kind, and accepting. When Elorie’s mother revealed the truth about not being able to keep her child making up a story of her dangerous family life, Jenna didn’t hesitate. She agreed to raise Elorie as her own, to protect her from the dangers that would surely follow.

The transition from the dark, ancient woods of the coven to the quiet, picturesque town of Mystic Falls was jarring for Elorie. Everything was different—the people, the customs, the very air she breathed. The town was filled with a warmth and light that she had never known in the coven, where everything had been shadowed by the weight of tradition and fear.

Jenna Sommers welcomed them with open arms, her home a safe haven filled with laughter and love. For the first time in her life, Elorie felt what it was like to belong, to be accepted for who she was without the constant fear of being judged or discarded. Jenna treated her as if she were her own daughter, showering her with affection and kindness, easing the lingering fears that had taken root in Elorie’s heart.

To protect Elorie from the coven—and from the supernatural world in general—Jenna devised a story that would explain her sudden appearance in Mystic Falls. She introduced Elorie as her daughter, born from a torrid one-night stand with a man whose name she could barely remember. It was a story simple enough to be believable, and it shielded Elorie from the truth of her origins, allowing her to live as a normal child in a normal town.

Elorie’s new life in Mystic Falls was a far cry from the shadowy world she had known with the Anders Witch Coven. The small, quiet town offered a semblance of normalcy that she had never thought possible. Jenna's warmth and unwavering support provided the stability she had lacked growing up among witches who viewed her with fear and suspicion. Though the memories of her time in the coven still haunted her, those dark recollections began to fade into the background, overshadowed by the new experiences and relationships she was building.

At first, it was difficult for Elorie to adjust. She had spent her early childhood surrounded by magic—whether in the whispers of the trees or the subtle hum in the air—and now, in this new place, the absence of magic felt strange. The constant awareness of her siphoning ability never left her, but Jenna, being completely human, brought a groundedness to Elorie’s life. The love she showed was a balm to Elorie's aching soul, helping her feel safe for the first time in years.

Jenna took great care to create a sense of normalcy for Elorie, taking her to school, introducing her to new friends, and making sure she had a life that was free from the supernatural—at least on the surface. But even as Elorie tried to embrace her new reality, there was always a part of her that couldn't fully escape her past. Her powers, no matter how deeply she tried to bury them, would resurface when she least expected it.

She had grown accustomed to spending her days alone, playing in the backyard where the world felt simpler. The scent of freshly cut grass lingered in the air, and the distant laughter of children playing in a nearby park was a comforting backdrop. The backyard had become her sanctuary, a place where she could escape from the complexities of life. Under the shade of a large oak tree, Elorie would create her own little worlds—tiny villages made of twigs and leaves, where her imagination could roam free, far from the memories of the coven and the weight of her powers.

The soft rustle of the wind through the leaves and the earthy smell of the soil beneath her were familiar comforts. She had always loved the way the sunlight filtered through the branches, dappling the ground in patterns of light and shadow. It was here, in this small patch of earth, that she felt safest—where the noise and confusion of the world faded away, and she could just be a child, lost in her own thoughts.

But that day was different.

As she reached out to pick up a leaf to add to her village, a strange sensation pulsed through her fingers. It started as a tingle, a barely perceptible hum of energy, but quickly escalated into something more. It felt as if the leaf itself was giving way to her touch, the vibrant green veins draining of color. Elorie watched in shock as the life was pulled from it, absorbed through her skin like rain disappearing into dry soil.

Her breath caught in her throat as the leaf withered in her hand, its edges curling inward, turning brittle and brown. In mere moments, it crumbled to dust between her fingers. She stared at the remnants, heart pounding, her mind racing to make sense of what had just happened. She hadn’t meant to do it—hadn’t even known she could do it. But there it was, undeniable proof of the power she carried, the curse that marked her as different.

The words of the coven elders, once distant memories, now echoed in her mind like an accusation: “Abomination.” They had known. They had always known what she was capable of. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she dropped the dust from her hand, as if it had burned her. Scrambling to her feet, Elorie backed away from the tree, from the tiny village she had created, from the innocent world she had tried so hard to hold onto.

The air around her felt different, heavier—charged with something unseen. The peaceful backyard, once her refuge, now seemed foreign and foreboding. The tree’s towering branches no longer felt protective; instead, they loomed over her like silent sentinels, watching, judging. Even the earth beneath her feet felt different, as if it could sense the shift within her. The world, once so bright and carefree, suddenly felt darker, more dangerous.

Elorie’s thoughts spun wildly. What if someone saw? she thought, panic rising in her chest. What if Jenna found out? She couldn’t bear the thought of Jenna looking at her the way the elders had, with fear and suspicion. Jenna was the one person who made her feel normal, the one person who didn’t treat her like a freak.

That evening, Jenna had noticed the withered plants scattered around the garden and had been bewildered. "What happened to all the flowers?" she had asked, frowning at the sight of the once-vibrant garden now speckled with shriveled, dead plants. Elorie's stomach clenched as she fumbled for an explanation.

"Maybe the fertilizer was bad," she had mumbled, avoiding eye contact, her fingers trembling as she fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

Jenna had sighed, glancing at the dead plants with a mix of confusion and disappointment. "I guess I’ll have to call the store about it," she said, brushing it off with a shrug. Elorie was all too eager to let that be the answer. It was easier that way—easier to pretend it was just a gardening mishap and not something far more sinister.

But deep down, Elorie knew the truth. The withering of the plants, the strange sensation of power coursing through her—it wasn’t a fluke. It was her. The realization settled in her chest like a stone, heavy and unyielding.

From that day on, she vowed never to use her powers again. She would hide them, bury them deep inside herself where no one could find them. The risk was too great. If anyone found out—if Jenna found out—everything would change. She couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself, to her abilities. She couldn’t bear to be seen as a threat, to be feared like the elders had feared her. So she kept her distance, from the plants, from her powers, from anything that might betray what she truly was.That was when Jenna decided that Elorie needed more than just solitude and secrets. She was a growing girl, after all, and no child should spend so much time alone. Jenna believed that what Elorie needed wasn’t more time in the backyard with her imaginary villages, but real friends, kids her own age. So, with all the well-meaning determination Jenna could muster, she arranged a series of playdates with Caroline Forbes, the energetic daughter of Liz Forbes, the town sheriff and a good friend of hers.

Caroline was everything Jenna hoped for in a friend for Elorie—bright, outgoing, and endlessly enthusiastic. Jenna figured Caroline’s exuberance could coax Elorie out of her shell, maybe even bring back the carefree laughter that had once filled their home. She didn’t see the signs of hesitation in Elorie’s eyes or the way her shoulders tensed at the mention of meeting someone new. All Jenna saw was the potential for Elorie to finally break free from whatever had been weighing her down.

"Elorie, sweetie," Jenna called one morning, her voice light with excitement. "I’ve arranged for Caroline Forbes to come over this weekend. I think you two will really hit it off. She’s your age, and her mom’s the sheriff—Liz Forbes, remember? It’ll be fun!"

Elorie’s stomach dropped at the thought. The idea of spending time with someone she didn’t know—someone who might get too close, someone she might accidentally hurt—filled her with quiet dread. But she couldn’t bring herself to protest. Jenna looked so hopeful, her eyes bright with the expectation that this would be good for Elorie. How could she explain that it wasn’t Caroline she feared, but herself?

"Sure, Aunt Jenna- uh,” Elorie replied, forcing a small smile. "That sounds… fun."

Jenna beamed, completely unaware of the turmoil simmering beneath Elorie’s calm facade. "Great! You’ll see. Caroline’s a sweet girl. You both could use some fun. Maybe you can show her your drawings—she’s into arts and crafts too."

The weekend arrived faster than Elorie had expected, and before she knew it, the doorbell rang, echoing through the house like a signal she wasn’t ready for.

“Ellie, can you get that? It’s Caroline!” Jenna called from the kitchen.

With a deep breath, Elorie opened the door. Standing on the porch was Caroline Forbes, a bundle of energy with a wide, friendly smile. She had blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail and was dressed in bright colors that somehow seemed to match her sunny personality.

“Hi! You must be Elorie,” Caroline said brightly, already stepping forward as though they’d known each other for years. “My mom says you’re new in town. That’s so cool! I can’t wait to show you all the fun places around here.”

Elorie blinked, momentarily stunned by Caroline’s sheer confidence. “Uh, yeah. That sounds… great,” she managed, stepping aside to let Caroline in.

From the start, Caroline’s energy filled the room, chattering away about school, town events, and every exciting thing she could think of. Elorie did her best to keep up, but she felt like she was watching from a distance, her mind always racing with caution. Could she really be around someone like Caroline without something going wrong? Could she trust herself not to let her powers slip?

“Let’s go to your room!” Caroline suggested, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. “I want to see your art! Your mom told my mom you’re really good.”

Elorie froze for a split second, her hand instinctively clutching the strap of her bag, where her sketchbook was tucked away. She hadn’t shared her drawings with anyone outside of Jenna, and the thought of doing so now made her uneasy. But Caroline’s excitement was so contagious, her smile so genuine, that Elorie found herself nodding.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll show you.”

Upstairs, Caroline practically bounced onto Elorie’s bed while Elorie hesitated by the desk, slowly pulling out her sketchbook. She handed it to Caroline, who flipped through the pages with wide eyes.

“Wow, Elorie, this is amazing!” Caroline gasped, her admiration completely genuine. “You’re really talented. You could totally be an artist when you grow up.”

Elorie smiled, a small, tentative one this time, as she watched Caroline flip through the pages. For a brief moment, she felt a flicker of hope—maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she could have a friend without something going wrong. They became friends almost immediately, despite Elorie’s initial reluctance to let anyone get too close. Caroline, with her unwavering optimism and refusal to take no for an answer, quickly broke down the walls Elorie had built around herself. She would drag Elorie to sleepovers, insist they sit together at lunch, and invite her over to her house almost every weekend. It wasn’t long before Elorie found herself laughing more, feeling lighter, as if the darkness she carried within her wasn’t so heavy when Caroline was around.

The weight of the darkness Elorie carried seemed lighter when Caroline was around. Caroline was more than just a friend to Elorie; she was a reminder that life didn’t always have to be about fear and secrets. With her, Elorie could almost forget about the power inside her, the thing that made her different. Almost.

As much as Elorie cherished her friendship with Caroline, there were others she kept at a distance. Elena Gilbert and Bonnie Bennett, two girls in their grade, were friendly and welcoming, but Elorie found herself hesitating when it came to forming close bonds with them. Elena, who was technically her cousin, had always been warm, offering smiles in the hallway and inviting her to join them at lunch. Bonnie, though quieter, had a confidence and strength that Elorie respected. Yet, she could feel Bonnie’s magic radiating off her even at their small age, and that was more enough to tell her to stay away.

Whenever Elena extended a friendly hand or Bonnie engaged her in conversation, Elorie instinctively pulled back, retreating into herself. It wasn’t that she disliked them—quite the opposite, actually. She admired Elena’s warmth and Bonnie’s quiet strength. But there was an invisible barrier between them that Elorie couldn’t explain. She felt an inexplicable urge to keep her life separate from theirs, a need to protect her secrets and, by extension, protect them from the darkness she carried. It wasn’t easy, especially when Caroline, the glue that held the group together, was always trying to bring them closer.

Caroline, ever the social butterfly, was determined to bridge the gap. She couldn’t understand why Elorie kept Elena and Bonnie at arm’s length, especially since they were all meant to be part of the same circle. Every time she brought them together, Elorie found a reason to distance herself, whether it was claiming she had too much homework or she wasn’t feeling up for it. The excuses came naturally, though each one added another layer of guilt. She hated keeping Caroline in the dark, but she knew it was the only way to protect her friend—and herself.

“El, come on,” Caroline would say with her usual persistence. “Let’s all hang out this weekend. We can go to the Grill, get milkshakes! Elena and Bonnie will be there.”

Elorie would shake her head, trying to sound casual as she dodged the suggestion yet again. “I don’t know, Care. I’ve got a ton of reading to catch up on.”

“You always have homework,” Caroline would pout. “You’ve got to make time for fun too, you know?”

“I know, I know,” Elorie would reply, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “Maybe next time.”

But there never seemed to be a ‘next time.’ Caroline’s frustration grew with each excuse, but she never pressed too hard, giving Elorie space even though it left her puzzled.

There were fleeting moments when Elorie’s resolve faltered. She’d watch Elena and Bonnie together, laughing easily over some shared joke, and a pang of longing would twist inside her. Part of her wanted to join them, to be part of the easy friendship that Caroline seemed to share so effortlessly. But then she would remember the power she carried, the curse that made her different, and the distance would settle in again. She couldn’t let herself get too close. The risks were too high.

It wasn’t until one afternoon, as they walked home from middle school, that Caroline finally voiced what had been on her mind for so long. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the sidewalk, and for a while, they walked in comfortable silence—until Caroline spoke.

“You know, Elena and Bonnie really like you,” Caroline said, her tone light but edged with curiosity. “They keep asking why we can’t all hang out more.”

Elorie stiffened, her grip tightening on the straps of her backpack. She kept her eyes forward, willing her voice to stay even. “I’ve just been busy. Lots of homework… and other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Caroline’s brow lifted, a playful glint in her eyes as she nudged Elorie gently. “Come on, El. You can’t keep dodging me forever. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Elorie swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. “It’s nothing, Care. I just… I need some time to myself, that’s all.”

Caroline’s smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine concern. “You’ve been distant lately. Not just from Elena and Bonnie, but from me too. What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

Elorie’s heart sank at the hurt in Caroline’s voice. She hated lying to her, hated the fact that she was pushing away the one person who had always been there for her. But how could she explain the fear that had settled deep inside her? The fear that getting too close would put Caroline at risk, or worse, that she’d accidentally let something slip—something that would unravel everything.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Elorie said quickly, reaching out to give Caroline’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m just… dealing with some things. It’s not your fault, I promise.”

Caroline studied her face for a moment, searching for the truth in her words. “You know I’m here for you, right? Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Elorie smiled softly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know, Care. And I’m grateful. I just… need to figure some things out on my own right now.”

Caroline frowned but nodded slowly, though Elorie could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Okay. But if you ever need to talk, or if you just want to hang out without worrying about anything, I’m here. We all are.”

“I know,” Elorie whispered, feeling the familiar weight of guilt settle in her chest. She wanted to open up, to let Caroline in on the truth about who she really was, but the fear of what might happen if she did kept her silent. Instead, she could only hope that by keeping her distance, she was sparing her friend from the dangerous world she was tied to.

As they continued walking, Elorie glanced ahead, where Elena and Bonnie were walking together, their heads close as they laughed at something only they knew. A part of her ached to be part of that—part of the easy, carefree friendship they shared. But the other part, the part that knew what she was, kept her from stepping into that circle. For now, she told herself, distance was the only way to protect them.

Chapter Text

Nine years had passed since Elorie first discovered the truth about her powers and the coven that shaped her past. Though she had adapted to a seemingly normal life, the memories of that time never truly faded. She did her best to bury them deep within her mind, hoping that if she ignored her powers long enough, they would simply disappear. But no matter how much time passed, they remained, lurking just below the surface, waiting. At first, it was easy to dismiss the occasional strange occurrence—a brief flash of energy when her hand brushed an object or the vivid dreams filled with cryptic symbols and shadowy figures. But as the years went on, these incidents became more frequent, and Elorie realized she could no longer deny the truth: her powers were resurfacing, and they weren’t going to stay hidden forever.

Elorie couldn’t ignore the way her skin prickled when she walked near certain places, the way the air seemed to thicken with magic in the presence of certain people. And then there was the voice she sometimes heard in her dreams, calling out to her, beckoning her to something unknown and dangerous. Despite her efforts to suppress her powers, the power within her started to grow stronger, harder to control.

In the weeks that followed, Elorie couldn’t help but cautiously experiment with her newfound ability. She would touch leaves, flowers, even small insects, watching in morbid fascination as their vitality drained away, drawn into her like a moth to a flame. Each time, she felt a strange mix of horror and exhilaration—horror at the destruction she could cause, and exhilaration at the raw power she held in her hands.

But with that power came an overwhelming fear. Especially after the lunch Caroline had carefully orchestrated between Elorie, Elena, Bonnie, and herself.

It had been a sunny afternoon, and they had settled at one of the picnic tables just outside the school, the sun casting a warm, golden light over everything. For the first time in a long while, Elorie felt almost normal. Caroline, with her endless enthusiasm, had insisted they all get together. She had waved off any of Elorie's hesitant excuses, saying, “It’s just lunch! No one bites—well, except maybe Bonnie when she’s hangry.” The joke had drawn a playful eye-roll from Bonnie, and Elorie had laughed, though her nerves still hummed in the background.

The conversation was light, filled with easy chatter about school gossip, homework, and weekend plans. Elena had asked Elorie about her classes, genuinely interested, and Bonnie had chimed in with occasional comments, her quiet presence grounding the group's otherwise lively energy.

For a while, Elorie let herself enjoy the moment, the banter, the way Caroline's laughter rang out like wind chimes, how Elena's soft voice was a calming backdrop to the conversation. Even Bonnie, who seemed a little more reserved around her, joined in. It was nice. It felt…normal.

But then Caroline, always so well-meaning, leaned in toward Elorie with a bright grin. “You should show them your art, Elorie. You’re so talented! Bonnie, you like painting too, right?”

Bonnie perked up, surprised. “Yeah, I do.” She smiled, her expression softening. “Mostly landscapes or abstract stuff. What about you?”

Elorie hesitated for a second, but with Caroline’s expectant eyes on her, she reluctantly reached into her bag, pulling out her sketchbook. She tried to steady her nerves as she passed it across the table, unsure of how Bonnie would react. She wasn’t used to sharing this part of herself.

“I, uh, do more illustrations. It’s nothing big, just things that come to mind.”

Caroline leaned in, nudging Bonnie. “She’s being modest. Her work is incredible.”

Bonnie chuckled, glancing over at Elorie with a hint of curiosity. “Can I see?”

Elorie nodded, and that’s when it happened. She reached forward to hand Bonnie the sketchbook, their fingers brushing for the briefest of moments.

It was like a spark igniting in the air. The instant their skin touched, Elorie felt a surge of raw magic flood into her mind—intense, wild, and completely overwhelming. She gasped, eyes widening in shock as the energy raced through her, too fast for her to contain or control. It wasn’t just her magic—it was Bonnie’s too. They were colliding, merging in a way that felt unnatural, painful.

For Bonnie, the sensation was just as jarring. She had felt something—something more than a simple touch. Her own magic, usually dormant and unassuming, had responded instantly to Elorie’s siphoning ability, as though drawn out unwillingly.

“Ellie!” Bonnie’s voice had barely left her lips before the world tilted. Her vision blurred, and the ground seemed to fall away from beneath her.

In a matter of seconds, both girls collapsed, their bodies slumping onto the table and falling to the ground. Everything around them went silent.

“Elorie? Bonnie?” Caroline's voice cut through the sudden stillness, panic rising as she dropped to her knees beside them. She shook Elorie gently, but neither girl stirred. “What the hell just happened?” she muttered, her voice trembling as she glanced at Elena for help.

Elena had already run off to get the school nurse.Caroline, her heart pounding, cradled Elorie’s head in her lap, her fingers brushing through her hair in an effort to comfort herself as much as Elorie. “C’mon, Elorie. Wake up. What just happened?” she whispered, her eyes flickering over to Bonnie, who lay still on the ground. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

The entire school courtyard seemed to hold its breath, the students around them frozen in confusion, watching with wide eyes as teachers rushed over to help. Elena returning with the school nurse who immediately turned Bonnie on her side gently massaging her back. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was only minutes, Elorie’s eyelids fluttered. She gasped, her breath sharp as she was pulled back into consciousness, disoriented and shaky.

“Elorie!” Caroline nearly cried in relief. “Oh my God, are you okay? What happened?”

Elorie blinked up at her, confused and dazed, her head pounding. She struggled to sit up, her mind racing to make sense of what just occurred. “I—I don’t know…” Her voice was hoarse, her body weak. But then her eyes landed on Bonnie, still unconscious on the ground. A wave of guilt and fear washed over her.

“Elena…” she croaked, panic rising in her chest. “Bonnie, is she—”

“She’s okay,” Elena said quickly, though the fear in her eyes betrayed her words. “She just… she hasn’t woken up yet.”

Before Elorie could process anything further, the nurse arrived, quickly assessing the situation. Within moments, Bonnie was being lifted onto a stretcher, still unconscious, while Elorie, though weak, managed to stand with Caroline’s help.

“I’m fine,” Elorie tried to reassure the nurse, though her legs shook beneath her.

“You’re going to the nurse’s office to be checked out, no arguments,” Caroline insisted, her arm firmly around Elorie’s waist as they followed the stretcher carrying Bonnie.

As they walked, Elorie’s mind raced. She had felt Bonnie’s magic—strong and vibrant. She had siphoned it, she realized, but she hadn’t meant to. It had happened so fast, like an automatic reflex. The thought made her stomach churn with dread.

“Caroline… I—” Elorie started, her voice low, but she couldn’t find the words to explain.

Caroline, her face pale with worry, shook her head. “Not now, Elorie. Just focus on getting better. We’ll figure this out.” But the look in Caroline’s eyes was filled with questions—questions Elorie wasn’t sure she could answer.

They reached the nurse’s office, and as Elorie sat on the exam table, her thoughts kept returning to Bonnie. What had she done? How could she have let this happen?

 She began to isolate herself, pulling away even from Caroline. The last thing Elorie wanted was to harm someone she cared about, and the thought of accidentally siphoning the life force from a living person terrified her. She didn’t know how to control it, didn’t understand the extent of what she could do, and that uncertainty gnawed at her like a festering wound.

After that day, something inside Elorie shifted. She began to isolate herself, withdrawing not just from Elena and Bonnie, but even from Caroline—her closest friend. It wasn’t an easy decision; Caroline had been her anchor, the one person who could make her feel like everything would be okay. But now, even the sight of her made Elorie anxious. The fear of what she might unintentionally do lingered in every moment, every interaction. What if she siphoned Caroline’s life force? What if she couldn’t stop it next time? The very thought of harming someone she cared about sent cold dread seeping into her bones.

Caroline, of course, noticed the distance almost immediately.

“Elorie, where have you been? You’re dodging me all week—did I do something?” Caroline asked one afternoon, catching Elorie just as she was leaving school. There was a hurt look in her eyes, one that made Elorie’s chest tighten with guilt.

“No, no, it’s not you,” Elorie stammered, shifting uncomfortably. She couldn’t meet Caroline’s gaze. “I’ve just… I’ve got a lot of homework right now.”

Caroline frowned, her hands resting on her hips as she studied her friend’s face. “Homework again huh? You know I’m here for you, right? Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’re supposed to be best friends”

Elorie’s heart twisted. She wanted to tell Caroline everything, to explain the fear that had been clawing at her since the incident at lunch. But how could she make her understand? How could she explain that she was terrified of herself, of what she might do if she let her guard down for even a second?

“I know,” Elorie mumbled, taking a step back. “I just… need some space right now, okay?”

Caroline’s face fell. “Space? Elorie, I don’t get it. You’ve been acting so weird since that lunch. Is this about Bonnie? Because it wasn’t your fault—she’s fine now! The nurse said it was just exhaustion.”

Elorie swallowed hard. “I know, but…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish. Caroline didn’t understand. She couldn’t.

With a frustrated sigh, Caroline crossed her arms, her eyes searching Elorie’s face for some kind of explanation. “You’re pushing me away, and I don’t know why. You can’t just shut me out like this.”

Elorie’s chest tightened. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Caroline, but the thought of what could happen if she stayed close was even worse. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Caroline shook her head, hurt flickering across her face. “Fine. If you want space, I’ll give you space. But don’t expect me to sit around waiting for you to decide when I’m good enough to be your friend again.”

With that, Caroline turned and walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance. Elorie stood frozen, guilt and fear warring inside her. She hated this—hated pushing Caroline away, hated the loneliness that was already creeping back in. But the fear of hurting someone, of losing control like she had with Bonnie, was stronger. For the next few weeks, Elorie withdrew even further. She stopped sitting with the group at lunch, skipped out on weekend plans, and spent more time alone. She told herself it was better this way. If she stayed isolated, no one would get hurt.

But the loneliness gnawed at her. The school days stretched on endlessly, each one bleaker than the last. The hallways felt emptier without Caroline’s infectious laughter beside her, and the few smiles Elena offered her in passing only deepened the ache in her chest. Her magic felt like a curse, a dark, festering thing she couldn’t control. She didn’t know how to stop it, didn’t understand the extent of what she could do, and that uncertainty gnawed at her like a wound that wouldn’t heal. Every time she reached out for something—whether it was a leaf, a flower, or even her pencil—she hesitated, terrified that her touch would drain the life from it.

Her nightmares returned with a vengeance. Every night she dreamt of that moment with Bonnie, the raw magic flooding her mind, overwhelming her senses. In the dreams, it was always worse—she would wake up to find that she hadn’t just siphoned Bonnie’s magic, but her very life. The image of Bonnie lying lifeless in her arms haunted her, and Elorie would wake up drenched in sweat, her heart racing. The guilt weighed heavily on her. She wanted to reach out to Caroline, to explain why she was pulling away, but the words always caught in her throat. How could she explain a fear that consumed her every waking moment?

Jenna noticed the change in Elorie almost immediately. The once vibrant, outgoing child who filled the house with laughter had become withdrawn, quiet, and far too serious for her age. The sparkle in Elorie’s blue eyes had dulled, replaced by a shadow of something Jenna couldn’t quite name—something dark, fearful, and deeply unsettling. Jenna tried to reach out, at first in small, subtle ways. She’d offer to take Elorie out for ice cream, suggest movie nights, or try to spark conversations about school, hoping something might bring back the lightness in her. But nothing seemed to work. Elorie’s responses were always polite but distant, her smiles never quite reaching her eyes.

Jenna’s concern grew. This wasn’t just normal pre-teen angst; this was something deeper. She saw it in the way Elorie would flinch at the slightest accidental touch, or how she seemed to avoid physical contact altogether, as if afraid her hands might do something terrible. There was a heaviness around her that hadn’t been there before. But Jenna was nothing if not persistent. One evening, after a quiet dinner where Elorie had barely touched her food, Jenna decided it was time to confront the issue. The two of them sat in the living room, the soft glow of a table lamp casting a warm, golden light across the room. The space was cozy and familiar, filled with books and little mementos of their life together, but tonight, it felt heavy with unspoken tension.

“El,” Jenna began gently, reaching out to take the young girl’s hand. “I’ve noticed you’ve been… different lately. Distant. I’m worried about you.” Her voice was soft but firm, her eyes searching Elorie’s face for some kind of response, some clue as to what had changed.

Elorie tensed the moment Jenna’s hand touched hers, her entire body stiffening as if Jenna’s touch might burn her. She quickly pulled her hand away—not out of rejection, but out of fear. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally siphon Jenna’s life force, to hurt her the way she had nearly hurt Bonnie. She couldn’t risk it.

Jenna frowned slightly but didn’t push. Instead, she waited patiently, her concern evident in the way she leaned forward, her voice quiet yet insistent. “You don’t have to do this alone, El. Whatever’s going on, we can figure it out together. Should we call your mom? Maybe she—”

“NO!” Elorie’s voice came out louder than she intended, and she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, her heart racing. “No,” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper this time. “I’m—I’m not supposed to…” Her words trailed off, fear gripping her chest. She bit her lip hard, fighting back the wave of emotions that threatened to spill over.

Jenna, startled by the outburst, softened her tone even more. “Ellie,” she said softly, using the nickname she’d given Elorie when she first came to live with her. “You’re safe here. You can tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. You know you can trust me.”

Elorie’s heart ached at Jenna’s words. She could feel the tears welling up, threatening to break free, and for a moment, she considered holding it all in, burying it deep down like she always did. But the dam had already started to crack, and Jenna’s gentle persistence was too much. The weight of her secrets, of everything she’d been hiding, was too heavy to carry alone anymore.

Before she could stop herself, the words came tumbling out. Her voice shook, and tears streamed down her face as she blurted out everything. “I’m not—Jenna, I’m not normal. My mom…when she said we were running from my…from her family… she’s a witch.”

“Elorie!” Jenna chided, “I know it hasn’t been easy being separated from your mom but she’s doing her best to protect you from her family.”

“If she wanted to protect to me she should told me how to use these…” She wailed shaking her hands. “I don’t even know how to control it.”

“Baby, calm down. Control what?”

“My mom and I, we come from this place, this coven, she’s a witch Jenna. No, I dont mean she’s mean or evil. She’s a witch. A pretty strong one. But I’m different. I’m dangerous. They didn’t want me, so they—she—she left me with you because no one else would take me.” She sobbed “I can’t control it, Jenna. I can take magic from people but I can’t control It. I didn’t mean to, but I hurt Bonnie, and I’m scared… I’m scared I’ll hurt you too.”

Jenna’s eyes widened slightly as she listened, her heart breaking at the sight of Elorie unraveling in front of her. She gently pulled the crying girl into her arms, hugging her tightly, not caring about the danger Elorie feared so much. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay, El. You’re not dangerous, you’re just scared.”

Elorie sobbed against Jenna’s chest, the weight of her confession finally released, but the fear and guilt still gnawed at her. “You don’t understand,” she choked out between sobs. “I take magic from people… from witches. I can’t control it. I don’t want to hurt you, Jenna. What if I hurt you?”

Jenna pulled back just enough to look into Elorie’s tear-streaked face. “You won’t hurt me,” she said firmly, brushing a lock of hair behind Elorie’s ear. “Look, you aren’t hurting me now. You’re not going to hurt anyone. You’re just a kid who’s been through way too much. You don’t have to carry this by yourself anymore.”

Elorie sniffled, wiping her eyes, still trembling from the outpouring of emotion. “But… you’re not scared?”

Jenna shook her head, her expression soft but serious. “Scared of you? No, Elorie. I’m scared for you. You’ve been holding onto this all by yourself, thinking no one would understand. But I’m here, okay? You’re not going anywhere, and we’ll figure out this magic stuff together.”

Elorie blinked up at her, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She felt a small, flickering hope in Jenna’s words, but doubt still lingered. “What about my mom?” she asked hesitantly. “She didn’t even tell you about me being a witch.”

Jenna’s lips curled into a small, playful smile, trying to lighten the moment. “Honestly? I can’t believe Diana trusted me enough to leave her kid with me but didn’t bother mentioning the whole ‘witch’ thing.” She let out a light chuckle, shaking her head. “That would’ve been useful to know, don’t you think?”

Elorie let out a small laugh through her tears, the tension easing just a bit. Jenna’s humor, her ability to take everything in stride, made her feel safe. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel so alone.

Jenna squeezed her hand gently. “We’ll figure this out, Elorie. One step at a time. And hey, no more secrets between us, okay?”

Elorie nodded, still sniffling, but feeling lighter than she had in weeks. “Okay,” she whispered.

Jenna smiled warmly, pulling her into another hug. “Good. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think we could both use some ice cream after all that.”

Elorie sat on the couch, still wiping the remnants of her tears from her cheeks. The emotional weight of the last few days had begun to lift, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she had hope that things might finally start to make sense. Jenna’s warmth and humor made everything feel bearable, even if only for a little while.

“Ice cream fixes everything,” Jenna had joked, disappearing into the kitchen to scoop out bowls for both of them.

Elorie smiled softly, her mind drifting as she waited. The quiet of the house settled around her like a comforting blanket. She could almost pretend, for a moment, that everything was normal. But that sense of peace was abruptly interrupted by a knock at the door.

Startled, Elorie frowned and stood up, her heart skipping a beat. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and Jenna hadn’t mentioned visitors. Curiosity piqued, she walked to the door and opened it.

Standing there was a slightly angry-looking woman with dark eyes that seemed to pierce right through her. Her hair was pulled back neatly, and her expression was anything but friendly. Elorie blinked, confused by the sudden presence of this stranger on their doorstep.

"Uh, can I help you?" Elorie asked cautiously, her hand still gripping the door.

The woman’s gaze flickered over Elorie briefly before she spoke, her voice sharp and commanding. "I'm Sheila Bennett. Where’s Jenna?"

Before Elorie could even process what was happening, Sheila brushed past her, pushing the door wide open and barreling into the house with a sense of urgency and authority that left Elorie momentarily speechless.

"Hey—wait!" Elorie called after her, but Sheila had already stormed into the living room, her eyes scanning the space before locking onto Jenna, who had just returned from the kitchen, holding two bowls of ice cream.

Jenna’s eyes widened in surprise, her grip on the bowls tightening. "Sheila?"

Sheila's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flashing with anger. "We need to talk. Now."

Elorie, still by the door, closed it softly, feeling completely bewildered by what was happening. She leaned against the wall, watching as the tension between Jenna and Sheila filled the room, thick and heavy.

"What's going on?" Jenna asked, her tone calm but wary, setting the ice cream bowls down on the table. Her eyes darted toward Elorie briefly, as if silently telling her to stay back.

Sheila turned toward Jenna, her expression hard, eyes flashing with anger. Her voice came out in a low, almost dangerous hiss. "Jenna, do you even know what your daughter is? What she’s capable of?"

Jenna’s breath caught for a second, but she didn’t let her calm exterior falter. She straightened, meeting Sheila’s gaze with a quiet strength. "She’s my daughter, Sheila. Of course, I know."

Sheila took a step forward, her words cutting like a knife. "Then why didn’t you keep a better leash on her? Why didn’t you warn me before my granddaughter was put in harm's way?"

Elorie flinched at the mention of Bonnie, guilt tightening in her chest, but Jenna remained firm, her voice steady as she replied, “I didn’t say anything because I was trying to protect Elorie. She didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Sheila's gaze flicked to Elorie, her eyes hard with anger but also something deeper—fear. “She’s dangerous, Jenna. She has no control over her powers. You think you’re protecting her, but you’re putting others at risk. Bonnie is proof of that.”

Jenna inhaled deeply, her voice unwavering. “She’s not a threat, Sheila. She’s a kid—my kid—and she’s just as scared as you are. But we’re working on it. I’m not abandoning her.”

Sheila’s eyes narrowed, her expression cold and determined. “I thought you might say that,” she muttered under her breath. Without another word, she began chanting in a low, rhythmic voice, ancient words filled with raw, dangerous power.

Elorie’s breath hitched, and before she could react, an overwhelming force surged through her. She cried out in pain, collapsing to her knees as a sharp wave of energy gripped her body. Her hands dug into the carpet, trembling, as if her very life was being drained from her. Fear clawed at her insides, her mind racing, unable to comprehend what was happening.

"Sheila, stop!" Jenna screamed, her voice breaking with panic as she tried to move toward Elorie, but before she could reach her, Sheila turned and held up a hand, continuing her incantation.

Jenna gasped, clutching her throat as her knees buckled under the weight of Sheila’s spell. She fell beside Elorie, unable to move, her face etched with terror. "Sheila... please..." she whispered, but the words came out weak, strangled.

In the chaos, Elorie’s heart pounded in her ears, her vision blurring. But she could feel something—an immense energy flowing through Sheila, like a river of magic. It was familiar, the same raw power she had felt when she touched Bonnie. Without thinking, her instincts took over. Crawling forward, her body shaking, she reached out and grabbed Sheila’s ankle, her hand trembling as she made contact.

And then it happened.

The moment Elorie’s fingers closed around Sheila’s leg, she felt the surge—power, pure and unfiltered, rushed into her like a dam breaking. Sheila’s magic flowed into her uncontrollably, flooding every corner of her body. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and terrifying all at once.

Sheila gasped, her spell faltering as she stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock. "What—what are you doing?" she choked out, trying to wrench her foot free, but Elorie’s grip tightened.

Elorie didn’t know exactly what she was doing, but her mind was consumed by one desperate thought: make her stop. She didn’t want Sheila here. She didn’t want this attack. She just wanted Sheila to go away.

Before she could process the thought, a powerful force exploded from within her. Sheila was thrown backward, her body slamming into the wall with a deafening crash. She hit the ground, but something held her there—restrained by an invisible force, her arms pinned to her sides by a power Elorie couldn’t see, let alone understand.

Jenna, still gasping for breath, stared in horror and awe at what had just happened. Elorie remained on her knees, her chest heaving, her mind reeling from the rush of power she had just absorbed. The air around them crackled with leftover magic, and Sheila, pinned against the wall, struggled to break free but couldn’t.

For a long moment, everything was still. Elorie’s hands shook, the weight of what she had just done crashing down on her. She hadn’t meant to—hadn’t even known she could do that. But there Sheila was, held by a force Elorie had unleashed.

Jenna’s voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. "Elorie… what just happened?"

Elorie, still trembling, looked down at her hands, as if they belonged to someone else. "I… I don’t know," she whispered, her voice hollow.

“Let me go girl” Sheila hissed. “You don’t understand. I can’t have something like you walking around Mystic Falls.”

Elorie snapped her head up, her fear turning into anger. “Why? Because you think I’ll hurt Bonnie again?” she demanded, her voice trembling with the weight of her guilt. “I didn’t mean to.”

Sheila’s expression didn’t soften. Her voice was cold and cutting. “It doesn’t matter what you meant to do. You did. You put Bonnie, and this entire town, in danger.”

“How?” Elorie shouted, the frustration boiling over. “How did I do that?”

Sheila’s eyes darkened, her voice filled with grim certainty. “Your kind is uncontrollable. You’re like a vacuum. You just take and take and take. It’s your nature. I don’t even know how you exist… unless—" Her eyes flickered, suspicion filling them. "It must be your father. Jenna’s normal, so it has to be him.”

Elorie stilled, her breath catching in her throat. Her mind raced, spinning wildly. Her father. That was the missing piece she had been chasing for as long as she could remember. She had never gotten a straight answer about who he was. And now Sheila’s words were unraveling the mystery, exposing a part of her that had always felt like a void.

Her voice was quieter now, trembling with the weight of hope and fear. “Do you know who my father is?”

Sheila’s eyes widened, darting from Elorie to Jenna and then back again. Her expression shifted from anger to shock, disbelief clouding her features. “Y-you don’t know?” she spluttered, as if the very idea of it was unthinkable.

Jenna, standing off to the side, shrugged helplessly, though her expression was clouded with guilt. “We didn’t do much talking,” she admitted.

A beat of silence passed, and then Sheila’s demeanor changed. The tension seemed to unravel as she tilted her head back and started laughing—cold, conspiratorial laughter that sent chills down Elorie’s spine.

“That explains it,” Sheila muttered through her laughter, her eyes glinting with something darker. "That explains everything."

Elorie’s pulse quickened, her stomach twisting as Sheila’s laughter echoed in the room. There was something sinister in her tone, something that made the air around them feel dangerous.

Jenna stepped forward, her voice shaking with frustration. “What explains everything, Sheila? What aren’t you telling us?”

But Sheila only smiled, a chilling, knowing smile that made Elorie’s heart pound faster. The smile made her skin crawl. The only thing she’d ever heard about her father was that his family was dangerous. She decided to play the only card she had.

“I-If anything happens to me I’ll tell people about Bonnie” She threatened

Sheila's laughter stopped abruptly, her smile fading into a sharp, icy glare. The atmosphere in the room grew even more tense, thick with unspoken danger. Elorie’s heart pounded as Sheila’s eyes locked onto hers, the weight of her threat hanging in the air like a drawn blade.

Jenna’s eyes widened, caught off guard by Elorie’s boldness, but she said nothing, waiting for Sheila’s response.

For a moment, Sheila was utterly still, her calculating eyes narrowing as she studied Elorie. Then she stepped forward, her voice cold as frost. “Would you now?” Sheila’s voice dripped with challenge, but there was something else beneath it—uncertainty. “And pray tell, who exactly would you tell?”

Elorie swallowed, her nerves frayed, but she held her ground. Her mother’s warnings about her father’s family echoed in her mind, but Sheila didn’t know how little she knew. All Elorie had now was bluff and fear. “I’ll write an email,” she said, her voice stronger than she felt. “I’ll schedule it to send daily—unless I change the date. I’ll send it to the Anders Coven. And I’ll tell them to tell everyone that Bonnie and Sheila Bennett live in Mystic Falls.”

She had no idea if what she said even made sense, or if it would work, but she banked on the reaction she had already seen from Sheila. It was clear her fear wasn’t just about Elorie’s power—it was about secrecy. And that meant Elorie had something she could use.

Sheila’s eyes flashed with anger, but it was laced with something else: panic. She took a sharp breath, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re bluffing,” she spat, but there was doubt in her voice. “You don’t know what you're dealing with. How would you even have a connection with that coven? How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“I might and I might not,” Elorie admitted, her voice steady, despite the turmoil inside her. She looked back at Sheila, and thought about how to release her spell. She wanted to let Sheila go. A show of good faith. To her surprise the spell seemed to fell apart and Sheila withdrew to the wall glaring at her. “But if I’ve learned nothing else tonight its that you don’t want people to know about Bonnie. You’ve worked too hard to keep her hidden. I mean, you came here to kill a kid. Are you gonna take that risk?”

Sheila’s face paled ever so slightly, her hands curling into fists at her sides. For a moment, the room was completely still, the tension between them almost unbearable.

Then Sheila took a step back, her eyes narrowing with fury but tempered by restraint. “You have no idea the kind of fire you’re playing with, girl,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “If you send that email, if you involve any covens, you will be the one in danger.”

Elorie’s pulse raced, but she didn’t let it show. “Maybe. But if anything happens to me, that email goes out. And you’ll have more than me to worry about.”

There was a long, tense silence. Sheila glared at Elorie, her jaw clenched, her mind clearly racing through her options. Then, with a sharp exhale, she stepped back from where she’d been held, the invisible force around her weakening as Elorie’s grip on her magic faltered.

Sheila’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer. “Fine,” she said coldly. “But this isn’t over. You may think you’ve won, but you don’t even know the game you’re playing.”

Without another word, she turned and stormed toward the door, her movements sharp and furious. As the door swung shut behind her, the room seemed to exhale, the tension slowly easing as the echoes of her footsteps faded.

Elorie stood frozen, her legs weak and her body trembling. She had no idea how she had pulled that off, or how long it would last, but for now, Sheila was gone.

Jenna rushed to her side, her voice filled with worry. “Elorie, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Elorie admitted, her breath shaky. “But it worked. For now.”

Jenna wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. “You scared me,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “But you were brave. You did what you had to do.”

Elorie rested her head against Jenna’s shoulder, her body finally relaxing. But deep down, she knew that Sheila was right—this wasn’t over. And whatever was coming next, she needed to be ready.

Elorie leaned into Jenna’s embrace, the warmth of her aunt's arms grounding her in the moment. But her mind was racing, replaying the encounter with Sheila over and over again. She had barely understood what she was saying, yet somehow, it had worked. For now. But that hollow victory did little to ease the tension that still lingered in her chest.

Jenna pulled back, her hands resting on Elorie’s shoulders as she searched her face, eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern. "You did what you had to," Jenna said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "But Elorie, Sheila’s doesn’t seem like the kind of person you want to mess with. What were you thinking?”

Elorie shook her head, her breath still shaky. "I wasn’t. I just... I didn’t know what else to do. She was ready to do something—something awful. I could feel it. I just had to stop her.” Elorie swallowed, the weight of the situation pressing down on her again. "I didn’t mean to put Bonnie in danger," she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "I didn’t even know what I was doing when I touched her. It just... happened.”

Jenna sighed, pulling Elorie close again. "I know, El. You didn’t mean to. But you’re right about one thing—you need to understand what’s happening to you. The more you know, the safer you’ll be.”

Elorie nodded, her thoughts already spiraling. Everything was moving too fast—her powers, Sheila’s threats, and now this looming question about her father. The weight of it all made her feel small, lost in a world she barely understood. But there was no running from it now. She had to face it.

"She said... something about my father," Elorie murmured, her eyes downcast. "Do you think she knows who he is?”

Jenna stiffened slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I don’t know. Maybe she does, maybe she’s just guessing. Your mother never talked about him much. But I think there’s more going on here than we understand. Sheila’s too smart to throw accusations without reason.”

Elorie chewed her bottom lip, feeling a gnawing curiosity and dread rise in her chest. "Do you think he’s dangerous? Like Sheila said?"

Jenna was quiet for a moment, clearly weighing her words carefully. "I don’t know, El. Your mother kept a lot of things hidden. But we can’t let that fear stop us from finding out the truth. If your father’s family has anything to do with your powers, it’s something we need to understand. But we’ll tread carefully. No reckless moves. Promise me that."

Elorie nodded, the resolve slowly building inside her. "I promise."

Jenna gave her a small, sad smile. "Good. Now, let’s sit down and take a breath. We’ll figure out our next steps, but we can’t do it all tonight."

They moved back to the couch, the ice cream bowls forgotten, as the weight of what had just happened settled around them. The house felt different now, the safety and warmth that had once filled it dimming under the shadow of what Sheila had said.

As Elorie sat down, her mind whirled with a hundred thoughts. She felt raw, exposed, and vulnerable—but underneath it all, there was a growing determination. She couldn’t go on like this, not knowing who she was or what she could do. If Sheila was right—if her father’s family had anything to do with the power she was struggling to control—then it was time to start looking for answers.

Chapter Text

With Caroline still not talking to her and school now on holiday, Elorie was left with more time than she knew what to do with. It felt strange to have the house so quiet, without the usual distractions of their friendship to keep her grounded. And now, more than ever, the questions swirling around her powers weighed heavily on her mind. She needed answers—about what she was, about how to control the abilities that seemed to come with so much danger. The best person to ask, she realized, was the one person she had been avoiding for so long: her mother.

But how to reach her?

Later that evening, while Jenna was in the kitchen, Elorie nervously made her way in, leaning against the counter as she tried to gather her thoughts. She wasn’t sure how to bring up the conversation, knowing Jenna had always been reluctant to talk about her mom. Still, Elorie had to know.

“Hey, Aunt Jenna?” Elorie started, her voice hesitant. Jenna glanced up from chopping vegetables, her expression warm but tired.

“What’s up, El? Everything okay?” she asked, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she turned to face her.

Elorie bit her lip, trying to phrase her question carefully. “I was wondering… do you have a way to contact my mom? I mean, like… how do you usually talk to her?”

Jenna’s face immediately stiffened at the mention of her mother. She sighed, placing the knife down on the counter. “Your mom... well, she wasn’t big on staying in touch,” Jenna admitted, her tone weary. “She gave me a phone number, but she said not to use it unless it was an emergency.”

Elorie frowned, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “But this is important, Aunt Jenna. It’s not just some random issue—it’s about me, about my powers. I can’t just keep guessing how to handle this.”

Jenna looked at her, concern etched in her features. “Elorie, your mom was clear about not using that number too often. She said she had reasons—probably for both your safety and hers.”

Elorie crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “This is about my safety, Jenna. It’s not like I’m asking her about something normal or human. This is supernatural. If anyone can help me figure out what I’m supposed to do with these powers, it’s her.”

Jenna sat down on the couch, watching Elorie carefully. Her brow furrowed with concern as she held the phone in her hand. "Are you sure about this, El?" Jenna asked softly, her voice filled with uncertainty. She knew the conversation could be intense, and she didn't want to overstep if Elorie wasn't ready.

Elorie nodded firmly, though her heart raced with anticipation. “Yes, I’m sure. But… can you put it on speaker? And please… don’t mention that I’m listening.”

Jenna hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between protecting Elorie and respecting her wishes. After a deep breath, she nodded, then tapped the phone, switching it to speaker mode. The quiet hum of the line filled the room for a few seconds before her mother’s voice, distant yet clear, came through again.

Jenna hesitated for a moment, clearly uneasy with the idea, but she could see the determination in Elorie’s eyes. Without another word, she took the phone and stood up, walking to the other side of the room. Elorie watched, her heart pounding in her chest, as Jenna dialed the number.

Elorie shifted nervously in her seat, watching Jenna carefully. She could tell her aunt didn’t love the idea of making the call, especially with Elorie listening in. But Jenna had agreed. Elorie needed answers, and there was no other way to get them.

After a few rings, a familiar voice crackled through the speakerphone. “Jenna? Is something wrong?” Elorie’s mother’s voice was cautious, her tone sharp with the edge of someone who was always ready for bad news.

Jenna glanced at Elorie, a silent reminder of her promise not to mention that Elorie was listening. With a deep breath, she steadied herself and began. “No, nothing’s wrong. But we need to talk,” Jenna said, her voice firm but gentle. “It’s about Elorie.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, the kind of silence that stretched too long, making every second feel like an eternity. When her mother finally spoke, her voice had softened, but there was an unmistakable thread of caution woven into the words. “What about Elorie?”

Jenna’s grip tightened slightly on the phone, her tone steady. “Diana, I need you to be honest with me. This is more than I can handle on my own.”

Another pause, then her mother’s voice came back, more guarded now. “W-what do you mean?”

Jenna swallowed hard, pushing forward. “Things keep happening around Elorie. Things I can’t explain away. And just last week, another girl got hurt.”

The alarm in Diana’s voice was immediate. “Someone was hurt? That’s not possible. Ellie can’t hurt normal people—she can only…”

“Pull magic from other witches,” Jenna finished for her, a sharp edge creeping into her voice. “Yeah. And I’m pretty sure the other girl is different too. Like Elorie.”

“That’s not possible,” Diana whispered, her voice barely audible, as if she was trying to convince herself more than Jenna.

“The girl’s guardian—” Jenna began, but Diana cut her off sharply.

“No,” Diana interrupted. “There isn’t anyone else like Elorie. Not anymore. Does anyone else know?”

Jenna hesitated, glancing over at Elorie, who sat quietly but tensely, listening to every word.

“Jenna,” Diana pressed, her tone urgent now. “Does anyone else know?”

“Just Bonnie’s guardian,” Jenna admitted, her voice dropping.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by a curse. “Damn it. I— I should move her.”

Before Jenna could respond, Elorie spoke up, her voice cutting through the tension in the room like a blade. “You’re not moving me, Mother.”

There was stunned silence on the other end of the line. “Ellie?” Diana’s voice softened, a mixture of surprise and guilt filling the single word.

Elorie stood her ground, her voice even but filled with an undeniable strength. “You’re not going to yank me around the world and dump me on someone else again. I’m staying here. I’m staying with Jenna.”

“Elorie, I don’t think you understand—” Diana began, but Elorie didn’t let her finish.

“No,” she interrupted firmly, her voice resolute. “I get it. This situation isn’t perfect. But I’ve handled it. Sheila is handled. I need to know how you can help me—really help me—because I need to be safe. I need to understand what’s happening to me.”

When Diana finally spoke, her voice was softer, quieter, as if the determination in Elorie’s voice had finally reached her. “You’re right, Ellie. You deserve answers. And I’ll give them to you. But we have to be careful. I’ll tell you what I can. But Elorie, it won’t be easy.”

Her mother paused, as though weighing the gravity of what she was about to say. Elorie felt a tightening in her chest, bracing herself for the truth.

“This isn’t like when you were in the Coven,” Diana continued, her voice dropping lower, more serious. “Not all witches are like them. This isn’t just people saying bad things about you or kids shoving you on the playground. Other witches, real witches, will try to kill you, Elorie.”

The words struck like a blow, and for a moment, Elorie was stunned into silence. She had expected danger—had felt it creeping in at the edges of her life ever since her powers had started to grow. But hearing her mother say it so bluntly, hearing the real threat laid out so plainly, made it feel more real. More terrifying.

Jenna’s face paled slightly at the words, her hand tightening on the arm of the couch as she glanced at Elorie. But she said nothing, allowing Elorie the space to process what she had just heard.

Elorie swallowed hard, her mind spinning. “Why? Why would they want to kill me? Just because I’m a siphoner?”

“Because of what you are,” Diana replied, her voice now calm but firm. “Siphoners are rare, and your power makes you a threat. Witches, especially covens, see you as an abomination because you don’t create magic—you take it. And some witches… some covens, will do anything to make sure you’re gone before you grow too powerful. They’re scared of what you could become.”

Elorie’s heart raced. She had always known she was different, always felt like she didn’t quite belong. But to know that there were people out there who wanted her dead because of what she was… it was almost too much to comprehend.

“What about you?” Elorie asked, her voice quiet but laced with determination. “What are you going to do to help me?”

“I can send a spell,” Diana offered, her voice steady, though Elorie could sense the tension behind it. “To help protect you while you work on getting control of your powers.”

Elorie’s brow furrowed, her frustration building. “You’re not coming here?” she asked, already sensing where the conversation was heading.

There was a long pause on the other end, and when Diana spoke again, her tone had an edge of evasiveness. “I can’t take you with me, Ellie. It’s not safe.”

Elorie’s heart sank, but she pressed on. “Why not? Why can’t you come here? What aren’t you telling me?”

Another silence stretched out, thick with unspoken words. Elorie clenched her fists, her frustration bubbling over. “It’s not just about the Anders family, is it?”

Diana sighed, her voice tight with reluctance. “No… it’s not.”

Elorie’s chest tightened, her mind racing. “Then what? What else are you running from?”

Diana hesitated for a long moment, and when she finally spoke, her voice was low and weary. “I’m not just avoiding the Anders family, Elorie. I’m also avoiding… your father’s family.”

Elorie blinked in surprise. Her father? The man she had barely heard anything about? The curiosity that had always gnawed at her, quietly waiting in the back of her mind, suddenly flared up. “My father?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper. “Who is he?”

“No,” Diana’s voice was sharp and immediate. “I’m not telling you that.”

“Why not?” Elorie demanded, her frustration reaching a boiling point. “Why are you keeping this from me? Don’t I deserve to know?”

Diana’s voice turned firm, almost cold. “You don’t need to know, Elorie. And you should never, ever go looking for your father or his family. I’m serious.”

Elorie felt her stomach twist. Her mother’s tone was so final, so full of warning, that it sent a chill down her spine. “Why? What’s so dangerous about them? How am I supposed to stay away if I don’t even know who I’m supposed to stay away from?”

Diana let out a sharp breath, her frustration matching Elorie’s. “Because if you find them, or if they find you, it will be the end of you, Ellie. I’ve kept you away from them for a reason. I’m not doing this to hurt you—I’m doing it to protect you. If you want a short life, filled with pain, then go looking for your father. But if you want to live, to have a chance at figuring out your powers, you’ll stay away.”

Elorie’s heart raced, her mind reeling from the sudden revelation. “How am I supposed to stay away from someone I don’t even know?” she asked, her voice shaky. “I don’t even have a name! How do I avoid something I can’t see?”

Diana’s voice softened, but her resolve was unshaken. “I won’t give you a name, Elorie. That’s the point. I don’t want you tempted to go looking for something that will only hurt you.”

Elorie stared at the phone, anger and frustration burning in her chest. “So, what? I’m just supposed to go through life afraid of some mystery family I’ve never met? This doesn’t make any sense!”

“It’s not supposed to make sense right now,” Diana said, her voice growing quiet again. “But trust me. Stay away from anything connected to your father. I’m doing this for your own good.”

Elorie’s hands trembled as she listened, feeling the weight of her mother’s words settle over her. There was no arguing with Diana—not on this. She could feel it in the way her mother’s voice had turned cold, the way the warning had been delivered like a final decree. No matter how much she pressed, Diana wasn’t going to budge.

“Fine,” Elorie said at last, her voice barely above a whisper, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “But don’t expect me to forget this. I deserve the truth.”

Diana sighed, her voice filled with a mix of regret and resignation. “I know you do. But some truths are too dangerous, Ellie. You’ll understand one day.”

Elorie didn’t respond, her mind swirling with questions she knew would remain unanswered. All she could do now was try to make sense of everything on her own, as she always had.

Diana was silent for a long moment before she spoke softly, her voice heavy with a mix of nostalgia and hesitation. “You’re fourteen now, aren’t you? I sent you that computer for your birthday... Do you like it? You must be so big by now. Jenna sends me pictures, but I haven’t seen you in what... almost eight or nine years.” Her voice faltered, the weight of the years apart hanging in the air between them.

Elorie stayed quiet, unsure how to respond. The mention of the years they’d been apart only made the distance between them feel more pronounced.

Diana cleared her throat and continued, though her tone was hesitant. “I... I could relay the binding spell on you. You wouldn’t have to deal with any of this. You wouldn’t be a danger to anyone—not this Sheila person, not yourself.”

“Mom,” Elorie interrupted, her voice steady but laced with frustration. She knew what her mother was trying to do—trying to take the easy way out, to shield her from the inevitable. But Elorie wasn’t that scared little girl anymore.

Diana sighed, her voice tinged with something like regret. “Of course not. You’re just like him. Stubborn.”

Elorie paused, her heart racing at the cryptic reference to her father. She waited, hoping her mother would say more, would finally reveal something about the mystery man she was never allowed to ask about. But the silence dragged on, and Elorie realized Diana wasn’t going to give her more.

Instead, her mother’s voice became more matter-of-fact. “I’ll email you a spell and send you what you need to create a protection charm. If you’re insisting on learning magic, on doing this your way, it’s the least I can do.” There was a pause, then a hint of reluctance as she continued. “I can’t send you any Anders family books. They’re locked away, and for good reason. You’ll be on your own for now.”

Elorie’s heart sank slightly, but she remained resolute. “I understand.”

“And, Elorie, don’t go trying anything you find online,” Diana warned, her voice sharpening with concern. “There’s so much nonsense out there, so much fake magic. It’s dangerous. I’ll try to get you something more substantial, but it’ll take time.”

“I insist,” Elorie said softly, her tone determined. “I need to learn.”

There was a long exhale on the other end, as if Diana was slowly accepting the path Elorie had chosen. “If you insist,” she repeated, a trace of resignation in her voice. “I’ll keep working on it. But be careful, Elorie. You think you know… but you don’t know the world you’re stepping into.”

Elorie nodded, though her mother couldn’t see her. “I will.”

The line went quiet for a moment, the unspoken words between them lingering in the air. Despite everything, Elorie knew this was the first real step forward she had taken. Jenna, who had been quietly listening from the couch, placed a gentle hand on Elorie’s shoulder, offering silent support. The tension in the room was palpable, but the conversation had reached its end.

The next step for Elorie was repairing her relationship with Caroline. After their huge fight, the silence between them felt heavier than she could bear. She replayed the argument over and over in her mind, the hurt in Caroline’s voice echoing in her thoughts. Elorie knew she needed to make things right, and after some sleepless nights, she decided to empty her piggy bank and find a gift—something that could serve as a peace offering. Maybe a friendship bracelet, or something to show Caroline how much their bond meant to her.

Jenna, ever the supportive aunt, agreed to take Elorie into town while she ran some errands of her own. “You can hit the shops while I swing by Gilbert Medical to see your aunt Miranda,” Jenna said as they drove down the quiet streets of Mystic Falls. “Take your time. We’ll meet back here in an hour, okay?”

Elorie nodded, the weight of her nerves pressing down on her as they pulled up to the main street. She gave Jenna a quick smile before stepping out of the car, her fingers nervously toying with the few crumpled bills in her pocket. She wandered down the road, passing by a few stores that didn’t quite catch her attention, her mind focused solely on finding something perfect for Caroline. She knew it wasn’t just about the gift—it was about making up for the distance she had created between them. She wanted to bridge that gap, even if she didn’t know how to explain her own fears yet.

After strolling past a couple of window displays, Elorie found herself drawn to a small antique shop tucked between two larger, more modern stores. The sign above the door was faded, the kind of place you’d overlook if you weren’t paying attention. But something about it called to her, and before she knew it, she had stepped inside. The shop smelled of old wood and dust, with shelves lined with curiosities and relics from another time. The air felt thick with history, and Elorie couldn’t help but feel a little out of place in the quiet, almost mystical atmosphere. As she wandered deeper into the shop, her gaze fell on a small display near the back—an assortment of necklaces and bracelets glittering faintly under the dim lighting.

One particular item stood out—a seashell necklace, delicate and pale as moonlight. It hung on a thin silver chain, and the moment Elorie’s eyes landed on it, she felt a strange pull. The seashell glowed faintly, as though it held something more than just craftsmanship. Her fingers twitched with the impulse to reach out and touch it, her mind already spinning with curiosity. It was as if the necklace was calling to her, whispering secrets she didn’t yet understand.

For a long moment, she stood there, transfixed by the necklace, her heart beating just a little faster. But a quiet, nagging voice in the back of her mind pulled her back. She wasn’t here for herself—she was here for Caroline.

With a sigh, she turned away from the seashell and moved toward a collection of bracelets on display near the counter. Her fingers brushed lightly over the different designs—beaded ones, colorful threads, and silver bangles. After a few minutes of consideration, she finally settled on a silver toned rhinestone bracelet. It was elegant, simple, and felt like something Caroline would love. More importantly, it was just under fifty dollars, leaving Elorie with enough for a small card to go with it. Satisfied with her choice, Elorie brought the bracelet to the counter, feeling a slight wave of relief. As the shopkeeper wrapped the bracelet in a soft velvet pouch, Elorie’s thoughts drifted back to Caroline, to how she would react. She hoped this would be enough to show how sorry she was, to prove she still wanted to be friends, even if things had been difficult lately.

After securing the bracelet, Elorie made her way to the medical center to meet Jenna. The bracelet weighed lightly in her bag, but the emotional weight of what it represented was much heavier. She clutched her bag as she stepped through the glass doors of Gilbert Medical, the cool, sterile air inside immediately putting her on edge. There was something just beneath the surface that didn’t belong, something that made her skin prickle uncomfortably. She tried pushing the feeling away ignoring the little voice in her head.

She spotted Jenna chatting with her aunt Miranda at the front desk, both women smiling as they caught up. Jenna waved her over. "El, come say hi to your aunt," she called, her voice bright in the otherwise quiet clinic.

Elorie walked over, forcing a small smile as she greeted Aunt Miranda. "Hi, Aunt Miranda," she said softly, her voice wavering slightly.

Miranda smiled warmly, giving Elorie a quick hug. "Hey there, sweetheart! How was your little shopping trip? Find something nice?"

Elorie nodded, showing a quick flash of the velvet pouch in her bag. "Yeah, I found a bracelet."

"Good choice," Miranda said with a wink before turning back to Jenna. The two continued their conversation, something about a town meeting and upcoming health inspections.

Elorie took a seat nearby, feeling the cold, plastic chair beneath her as she glanced around the room. The clinic was calm—too calm. The muted sounds of pages turning, the quiet hum of machines, and the occasional soft footsteps of nurses passing by filled the air. It wasn’t loud or chaotic, but that didn’t ease the growing sense of discomfort gnawing at Elorie’s nerves. There was something about this place that made her skin crawl. She couldn't explain it, but it felt as though the walls themselves were watching her. Maybe it was the lingering smell of antiseptic, or the way the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, but it always felt as if the clinic was hiding something, like it was a place meant for more than just healing.

Her fingers twitched, restless, as her eyes flitted to the exam rooms down the hall. For a moment, she imagined something calling her, beckoning in the shadows beyond the pristine white walls. It wasn’t a rational fear, but it was there nonetheless—a creeping unease that had nothing to do with being in a medical facility and everything to do with what her instincts were telling her.

She tried to shake off the feeling, reminding herself she was just being paranoid. It’s just a clinic. Nothing weird happens here. But that didn’t stop the way her heart picked up pace, or how the air felt heavier around her the longer she sat there.

Jenna noticed her fidgeting from across the room and smiled reassuringly. "We’ll be out of here in just a few minutes, El. Hang tight."

Elorie nodded, but the sense of discomfort only deepened. The longer she stayed in the clinic, the more that strange, tingling sensation crept through her, like something was pressing down on her, just out of sight. She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on anything else, but the unease wouldn’t leave. As Jenna and Miranda wrapped up their conversation, Elorie couldn’t help but release a quiet sigh of relief. The tension in her shoulders eased the moment they turned toward the exit, and the sterile, unnerving air of the clinic began to fade behind them. She practically followed Jenna out the door, the weight of unease slipping away as they stepped outside into the bright afternoon sunlight.

The warmth on her skin was a welcome contrast to the cold, clinical atmosphere inside. Elorie inhaled deeply, the fresh air filling her lungs, and for the first time since entering the clinic, she felt like she could finally breathe again.

"You okay, El?" Jenna asked, glancing over at her with a concerned smile as they walked toward the car.

Elorie nodded quickly, not wanting to let on how unsettled she had felt inside. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just glad to be out of there."

Jenna chuckled softly. "I get it. Hospitals aren’t exactly the most fun places to hang out."

Elorie gave her a small smile, but her mind was still lingering on the strange sensation she had felt inside the clinic. She was grateful to be away from it, but she couldn’t shake the thought that there was something more to her discomfort, something she couldn’t quite put into words. She pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the bag in her hand and the bracelet she had picked out for Caroline. Now that she was out of the clinic, the weight of that gesture felt more important than ever. She needed to fix things with Caroline, to put the fight behind them and find a way back to their friendship.

Elorie knew she had to make things right with Caroline before she left for summer cheerleading camp. The longer she waited, the harder it would be to fix the growing distance between them. As Jenna pulled up to the Forbes house, the nerves that had been simmering all day bubbled over, tightening Elorie's chest. Her palms were sweaty, and she kept fidgeting with the strap of her bag as if it would somehow ease her anxiety.

Jenna noticed Elorie’s hesitation and gave her a gentle, reassuring smile. “You’ve got this, El. Just be honest with her. Caroline’s your friend—she’ll understand.”

Elorie nodded, though the reassurance did little to calm her nerves. “Thanks,” she mumbled, her voice tight as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Jenna's words felt distant as her mind raced with a thousand thoughts. What if Caroline didn’t forgive her? What if she didn’t want to be friends anymore?

"Go on, before you talk yourself out of it," Jenna teased lightly.

Taking a deep breath, Elorie slowly dragged herself out of the car and up the walkway to the Forbes house. Each step felt heavier than the last, her heart pounding in her chest. When she finally reached the door, she hesitated for a moment, staring at the buzzer, her thumb hovering over it.

Just press it, she told herself, steeling her nerves. She couldn’t back out now.

With a quick, decisive motion, Elorie pressed the buzzer and waited, the seconds feeling like hours. The faint sound of footsteps approaching the door made her heart race even faster. When the door finally swung open, Caroline stood on the other side, her blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail. But the warmth that usually radiated from her was absent, replaced by a cold, distant look.

Caroline’s expression was frostier than Elorie had expected, her arms crossed over her chest as she glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. "What do you want, Elorie?" she asked, her voice clipped, clearly still hurt from their fight.

Elorie swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to tangle together. "I—I just... I wanted to apologize," she stammered, her voice trembling as she fumbled with her bag. "I brought you something... to say I’m sorry."

Caroline's expression didn’t soften. She simply raised an eyebrow, waiting for more. "Really? After ignoring me for weeks, you think a gift will fix things?"

Elorie’s face flushed, her embarrassment mounting. She hadn’t expected it to be easy, but the icy tone in Caroline’s voice made it clear that an apology alone wouldn’t be enough.

"No, I—I didn’t mean it like that," Elorie said quickly, her voice pleading. She pulled out the velvet pouch from her bag, offering it to Caroline. "I messed up. I know I’ve been distant, and I wasn’t fair to you. I’ve been... dealing with some stuff, but I shouldn’t have shut you out."

Caroline eyed the pouch but didn’t take it right away. Her blue eyes flickered with a mix of hurt and stubbornness. "Why, Elorie? Why did you shut me out like that? We’re supposed to be best friends, and you just pushed me away like I didn’t matter."

Elorie felt a lump form in her throat. Caroline's words hit harder than she’d expected, the guilt gnawing at her even more. "You do matter," Elorie said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "More than you know. I was just... scared. Scared that I’d hurt you, and I didn’t know how to talk about it. But I never wanted to lose you."

For a moment, there was silence between them, the tension hanging heavily in the air. Caroline's gaze dropped to the pouch, her fingers twitching slightly, as if debating whether to take it. After what felt like an eternity, she finally reached out and took the gift from Elorie’s hands, her expression still guarded.

Caroline opened the pouch, revealing the Silver Tone Rhinestone Bracelet inside. She stared at it for a long moment, the shine of the rhinestones catching the sunlight. Elorie held her breath, waiting for Caroline to say something—anything.

Finally, Caroline let out a small sigh. "It’s pretty," she admitted, her voice softening just a little. She glanced up at Elorie, her expression still firm but no longer as cold. "But you know a bracelet doesn’t fix everything, right?"

Elorie nodded quickly, relief washing over her. "I know. I just... I didn’t know how else to show you I’m sorry."

Caroline studied her for a moment, then sighed again, her posture relaxing slightly. "Okay, fine. I’ll give you another chance. But if you ever shut me out like that again, we’re done. Got it?"

Elorie’s heart soared at those words, the relief almost overwhelming. "Got it," she promised, a genuine smile breaking through her nerves. "Thank you, Care. I won’t mess up again."

Caroline finally smiled, just a little, as she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist. "You better not. Now, come on. Let’s hang out before I leave for camp tomorrow."

Elorie let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, following Caroline inside. The weight of guilt and fear lifted just a bit, replaced by the warmth of their friendship slowly healing.

Chapter Text

Caroline had been gone for the summer, and without her bubbly presence, the days seemed to drag on. Elorie spent most of her time inside, trying to stay busy, but the questions about her powers, about what Sheila had said, kept swirling in her mind. By the time mid-July rolled around, she was beginning to feel restless.

Elorie sat on the edge of her bed, her phone pressed to her ear, waiting anxiously as the call rang and rang. She had tried reaching her mother several times over the past few weeks to update her on the situation here, but Diana had been avoiding her calls. Just as she was about to hang up, the line clicked, and her mother’s voice came through, sounding hurried and tense.

“Ellie? Is everything alright?” Diana asked, her words clipped as if she was in the middle of something.

Elorie felt a flood of relief and frustration all at once. "You’ve been avoiding my calls," she accused softly, her tone betraying how much she needed this conversation.

“This number is for emergencies Elorie” Dianna hissed.

“I’d say it pretty big emergency if some old hag is trying to kill me” Elorie replied, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice.

Her words seemed to get Diana’s attention, the hurried tone in her voice giving way to concern. “What happened?"

“Some old lady named Sheila Bennett happened," Elorie said bluntly. "She attacked me. I think she tried to—well, she used magic on me. And from the way she talked, she seemed pretty determined to stop me from doing... anything."

There was a long silence on the other end before Diana’s voice returned, sharp and angry. "The Bennett witches dare to touch an Anders witch?" Diana’s fury simmered through the line. "I’ll see to it that she’s—"

"Mom," Elorie cut in, trying to bring her mother’s focus back. "I need to understand why this woman would come after me in the first place. Why should I even matter to someone line her?"

“Its because you’re a siphon. And the Bennetts, well, lets just say if you thought our Coven was displeased they’d self destruct just knowing you existed.” she exhaled sharply, the tension still present in her voice, but she steadied herself enough to answer. “They go way back. I’m talking Salem Witch Trials, 1600s. They left Salem to escape persecution and ended up in that area around Mystic Falls in the 1690s. They were a powerful coven back in the day, but… well, as far as I knew, they were wiped out. The last one was supposedly burned at the stake a couple hundred years ago.”

Elorie frowned, gripping her phone tighter. "Well, this Sheila Bennett isn’t dead. She’s very much alive. And from what I’ve seen, she’s very powerful. And wants me very dead.”

Diana went quiet for a moment, processing this new information. "You’re sure she said Sheila Bennett?" she asked cautiously.

"Positive," Elorie replied. "And Sheila was furious—like, furious that I even exist. She kept going on about how I was dangerous, about how I ‘take’ magic from others."

Diana let out a low hum of disapproval, her anger still palpable. "So they’ve been hiding. The Bennetts have always been secretive. If this Sheila is as strong as you say, and if she’s been hiding all this time, then there’s more going on in Mystic Falls than I realized."

"So what do I do?" Elorie asked, feeling a knot form in her stomach. "She said other witches would try to kill me too."

Diana’s tone darkened, a protective edge creeping into her voice. “You stay away from them, Ellie. The Bennetts have always been secretive, and clearly, they see you as a threat. But you’re an Anders witch, and that means you have more power backing you than they realize. Even if the family is…fractured about you. Don’t let them intimidate you. I’ll start digging into this Sheila Bennett and see what I can find out.”

“I figured as much” Elorie replied bitterly. “ I scared her off by telling her if she touched the full weight of the family would come down on her.”

Diana smiled sadly, “That was smart.”

“You think she’ll try to come back?” Elorie asked, her mind jumping to the worst-case scenario. “Am I in danger?”

“It’s possible,” Diana said slowly. “Back in the day when they did witch burnings in that area the Bennetts were linked to the Salvatores, back in the day. Is there anyone with that last name around”

Elorie exhaled sharply. “No. I haven’t met anyone like that yet.”

“Good.” Diana’s voice softened, though it remained firm. "Stay away from them, Ellie. The Bennetts are dangerous, and clearly, they see you as a threat. I’ll look into it—see what I can find out. But you need to be careful. If Sheila Bennett is alive, there could be more. And if they know what you can do, they won’t stop until you’re neutralized."

"Great," Elorie muttered, feeling more overwhelmed than ever. "Just what I needed. A coven of witches who want me dead."

"Remember, Ellie," Diana’s voice cut through the line, strong and reassuring. "You’re an Anders witch. You’re stronger than them. Don’t let their fear control you. I’ll find out what I can about Sheila Bennett and her coven, but you need to focus on controlling your powers. Has my package arrived?”

Elorie shook her head, even though her mother couldn’t see her. “No it hasn’t.”

“It should be there soon,” Diana promised, though there was an edge to her voice, as if she was already planning her next move. "And Elorie? If Sheila comes after you again, don’t hesitate. Use your power. Protect yourself."

The line went silent after that, and Elorie stared at her phone, her heart racing. The Bennetts were supposed to be long gone, but they weren’t. They were still here, still powerful, and apparently, very interested in stopping her from doing anything with her magic.

After the unsettling conversation with her mother and the dangerous encounter with Sheila Bennett, Elorie felt like a ticking time bomb. She kept her head down in school, went through the motions of her daily tasks at the clinic, and tried to avoid drawing attention to herself. But the tension gnawed at her, and her mind kept wandering back to magic—her powers, the Bennetts, and the things her mother hadn’t fully explained.

Then, one afternoon, Diana’s package finally arrived.

Elorie stood at the door, staring down at the box in her hands. It was simple and unassuming, but the weight of it felt heavy with anticipation. She carried it into the living room, her hands trembling slightly as she set it down on the table. Jenna wasn’t home yet, and a part of her was relieved—she wanted to open it alone, without anyone watching.

Taking a deep breath, she carefully cut through the tape and opened the box. Inside were two books, one was very old, its cover worn and faded from age. The other seemed more new. Yet they both smelled faintly of dust and ancient paper, and Elorie's fingers itched to explore them. But something else caught her eye—a small item wrapped in newspaper, radiating a strange, palpable energy.

Unwrapping it carefully, Elorie found herself staring at a rough red stone. It wasn’t polished or cut like a jewel, but there was something mesmerizing about it. As soon as her fingers brushed against its surface, she felt a faint pulse of magic hum through her body.

What is this? she wondered, her heart quickening.

Her gaze fell to the note at the bottom of the box. It was in her mother’s familiar handwriting, and Elorie picked it up, her eyes scanning the words quickly.

"This is a garnet stone, imbued with my own magic. It will help you in learning to control your powers, but you’ll need an item to pull the magic from it and store it in. Choose something inconspicuous—a bracelet, a necklace, something you can carry with you at all times."

Elorie’s mind immediately flashed back to the seashell necklace she had seen earlier that summer. It had caught her eye when she’d gone out to find a gift for Caroline, and she had almost bought it for herself. She remembered the way she had been drawn to it, the way it felt like it was calling to her. Now, she wondered if that instinct had been more than just a passing thought.

She set the note down and picked up the garnet stone again, feeling its warmth in her palm. It pulsed gently, as if waiting for her to decide.

The necklace, she thought, already making up her mind. It was simple, beautiful, and something that wouldn’t draw attention. More importantly, she had felt a connection to it, even before she knew about the garnet stone.

The idea of channeling her mother’s magic through something that already resonated with her felt right.

Elorie stared at the books and the stone for a long moment, the weight of her responsibility settling in. Her mother had given her this as a way to control her powers—but also to guide her. With the garnet stone and whatever knowledge lay in those two books, she would have to learn on her own, and fast.

This was her first step toward controlling the siphoning power that had so far only caused her fear and chaos.

She wrapped the garnet stone carefully in the newspaper again and tucked it back into the box, her mind already spinning with plans. Tomorrow, she would go back to the antique shop and buy the necklace. It would be the first item she would imbue with magic—and maybe, just maybe, the first step toward finding a balance between the power within her and the life she wanted to live.

But as she stared at the box and the books, a chill ran down her spine. This was a gift from her mother, but it came with a reminder that nothing about her journey would be easy.

Elorie picked up the note one last time, her eyes catching the final line Diana had written in her neat, careful script:

"Be cautious. Not everyone who senses your power will want to help you."

Her heart pounded as she folded the note and placed it back in the box, the warning echoing in her mind.After Jenna had taken her back to the antique store to get the seashell necklace, Elorie couldn’t help but feel a mixture of anticipation and unease. The necklace felt right, almost like it was meant for this purpose, and once they returned home, she immediately set to work. Her days quickly became consumed by the two old books her mother had sent her.

The first book was a diary. It was heavily redacted, with entire passages blacked out or removed, but what remained was compelling. As Elorie read through its fragmented entries, she realized it detailed the life of someone like her—a siphoner. Whoever this person was, they had written about the challenges of living with their powers, about the fear, the isolation, and the strange, uncontrollable magic that flowed through them.

Elorie felt a strange kinship with the author of the diary, even though she had no idea who they were. She could only assume that her mother had redacted the diary on purpose, maybe to protect her from knowing too much. The secrecy surrounding it left her unsettled. Whoever this person was, her mother really didn’t want her to know them. And that only made Elorie more curious.

The second book, however, was more practical. It was filled with basic spellwork instructions, potion recipes, and guidance on how to channel magic effectively. The handwriting was unmistakable—it was her mother’s. Neat and precise, it was similar to the notes Diana had sent with Elorie’s birthday gifts over the years. This was her mother’s way of guiding her, even from afar.

The spells were simple, designed for beginners. Elorie had spent hours studying the different sections, tracing her fingers over the carefully inked diagrams. She’d memorized incantations and formulas, hoping that when the time came, she would be ready to use them.

As the days passed, she grew more comfortable with the idea of magic, though she hadn’t dared to siphon from anyone since the incident with Bonnie. Instead, she practiced with small, non-living objects, learning how to pull energy from the garnet stone and store it within the necklace she had chosen.

The seashell necklace, once an ordinary trinket, now buzzed faintly with the magic she had placed inside it. It was subtle, but Elorie could feel it—a soft, steady pulse of energy that reassured her she was making progress.

One evening, after hours spent reading and practicing, Elorie sat back, staring at the garnet stone in her hand. She had made progress, sure. But there was still so much she didn’t understand. So many pieces of her life and her powers felt fragmented, just like the redacted diary.

Why doesn’t she want me to know the whole truth? Elorie thought, her eyes drifting toward the heavily edited pages. The weight of the mystery was pressing down on her, but she knew one thing for certain: she couldn’t keep relying on her mother’s limited guidance forever.

Before long, summer was coming to an end. Elorie had spent countless hours buried in the books her mother had sent, practicing the basics of pulling magic from objects, and slowly growing more confident in her abilities. She had learned to channel the energy through the garnet stone into the seashell necklace, creating a connection that allowed her to siphon magic in a controlled way. But that wasn’t all she had discovered. Much to her surprise, in leaning how to control her power she realised her ability to siphon was like a metal detector, but for magic. Whenever she was near something imbued with arcane energy, she could feel it. A subtle hum, a faint vibration in the air, letting her know that magic was present. At first, it had been disorienting, but the more she practiced, the more attuned she became. It had probably been the reason she felt bought intrigued and disturbed by Bonnie's energy. The girl was basically dripping in untapped magic.

Control over this newfound sensitivity made her subsequent visits to the old antique shop overwhelming, to say the least. Each time she walked in, the air felt charged, humming with hidden magic in the objects that lined the shelves. It was like standing in the center of a storm of arcane energy. Every trinket, every old book or piece of jewelry seemed to buzz with some kind of enchantment or charm. It was both exhilarating and exhausting. As she stepped out of the antique shop, the warm summer air hit her, carrying the faint sounds of laughter and music in the distance. The end-of-summer festival had begun to stir the town to life, and the streets were lined with booths, decorations, and the buzz of excitement. The streets were alive with laughter and music, the air filled with the sweet scent of funnel cakes and popcorn. Colorful lights strung between the trees cast a warm glow over the festivities, and the sounds of carnival games and lively chatter echoed through the night. She had been looking forward to this all summer, but now that the day was here, the usual excitement felt overshadowed by everything she had been learning. Magic, secrets, and the growing realization that her life was never going to be the same.

She glanced down the street, where Caroline was supposed to meet her. They hadn’t seen each other since before everything had changed—before Elorie had started delving into her powers, before Sheila’s unexpected appearance, and before the secrets about her family had begun to unravel. As she walked toward the festival grounds, Elorie felt a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach. She hadn’t told Caroline anything about what had happened, about the magic or Bonnie or the threats hanging over her. She had no idea how she was supposed to explain any of it. Caroline was her best friend, but how do you tell someone that everything they knew about you was only a fraction of the truth?

The sounds of the festival grew louder as she approached, the cheerful chatter of people mingling with the distant melody of carnival music. The streets were decorated with vibrant banners, colorful lights strung between the trees, and the smell of food from the nearby stalls filled the air.

Elorie spotted Caroline near the edge of the crowd, waving her arms to catch her attention. Her blonde hair glinted in the late afternoon sun, and her bright smile was as infectious as ever. For a moment, Elorie felt a wave of nostalgia—a longing for the simplicity of their friendship before everything had gotten so complicated.

"Elorie!" Caroline called out, rushing over as soon as she spotted her. "I’ve been waiting forever! Where were you?"

Elorie forced a smile as she jogged the last few steps to meet her. "Sorry, I was at the antique shop. Lost track of time."

Caroline gave her a playful nudge. "Of course you were. You and your weird obsession with that shop. What could you possibly need from there today?"

Elorie hesitated, her mind racing to find a response that didn’t involve the growing magical world she had been pulled into. "Just looking around," she finally said, trying to keep her tone light. "Nothing too exciting."

Caroline raised an eyebrow, but her smile didn’t falter. "Well, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters! I’ve been dying to check out the games and maybe—just maybe—convince someone to win me a giant stuffed animal."

Elorie chuckled, grateful for Caroline’s easy energy, even if the tension in her chest hadn’t fully disappeared. "I’ll see what I can do."

Elorie and Caroline walked side by side, their earlier conversation still fresh in Elorie’s mind. She felt lighter, less burdened by the weight of her secrets, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment. Caroline had insisted they wear matching outfits—a pair of flowy summer dresses that danced around their knees with every step. The carefree energy of the festival was infectious, and Elorie found herself smiling more than she had in months.

As they made their way through the crowd, they spotted Elena and Bonnie near one of the game booths. Elena waved them over, her usual warm smile in place, but Bonnie’s expression was more reserved. Elorie hesitated for a moment, but Caroline, ever the optimist, tugged her forward.

“Hey, you two!” Caroline greeted them cheerfully. “Having fun?”

“Yeah, we just got here,” Elena replied, her smile widening as she looked at Elorie. “It’s good to see you, Ellie. We’ve missed you this summer.”

Elorie returned the smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Elena. It’s good to see you too.”

Bonnie, however, didn’t say anything. She stood slightly behind Elena, her gaze fixed on Elorie with an intensity that made Elorie’s skin prickle. There was something in Bonnie’s eyes—something cautious, almost wary—that made Elorie’s heart sink. It was as if Bonnie could see through the carefully constructed walls Elorie had built around herself, as if she knew there was something different, something wrong.

“Hi, Bonnie,” Elorie said, trying to sound casual.

Bonnie nodded in response but didn’t say anything. The tension between them was palpable, and Elorie could feel Caroline’s eyes darting between the two of them, sensing that something was off.

“Let’s play some games!” Caroline suggested brightly, trying to break the awkward silence. “I bet I can beat you all at Whack-a-Mole.”

Elena laughed, the sound lightening the mood. “You’re on, Forbes.”

They headed over to the Whack-a-Mole booth, but as they walked, Elorie couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. There was a faint sound in the back of her mind, a whisper that seemed to grow louder with every step. It wasn’t clear, more of a sensation than actual words, but it was there, persistent and unnerving.

By the time they reached the booth, the whisper had grown into a low, insistent murmur. Elorie’s hands trembled as she picked up the mallet, trying to focus on the game, but the noise in her head was becoming unbearable. It was like a voice, distant yet urgent, calling out to her.

“Come on, Elorie, you’re up!” Caroline called, already in the midst of whacking the plastic moles with a determined grin on her face.

Elorie forced herself to concentrate, raising the mallet to hit the moles as they popped up. But the voice in her head was growing louder, more desperate, and it was getting harder to ignore.

Help me.

The words were clear now, ringing through her mind with an urgency that sent a chill down her spine. Elorie’s grip on the mallet tightened, her heart racing. She couldn’t understand where the voice was coming from or why it was calling out to her, but she knew she couldn’t ignore it.

Suddenly, Bonnie’s voice cut through the noise in her head. “Something’s wrong with you, Elorie.”

Elorie froze, the mallet slipping from her fingers and clattering to the ground. The words hit her like a physical blow, and she turned to face Bonnie, who was glaring at her with a look of suspicion.

“What did you say?” Elorie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You heard me,” Bonnie said, her tone cold. “There’s something off about you. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.”

Elorie’s heart pounded in her chest, her fear and anxiety bubbling to the surface. “Bonnie, I—”

“Take it back, Bonnie!” Caroline interrupted, stepping between them and pushing Bonnie back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bonnie stumbled slightly but regained her footing, her eyes narrowing at Caroline. “You don’t know what she is, Caroline. There’s something wrong with her, and I can’t ignore it.”

“Bonnie, that’s enough!” Elena interjected, trying to calm the situation. “This isn’t the place for this.”

The tension in the air was thick, the festival lights and cheerful music feeling distant and surreal as the four girls stood in the midst of their confrontation. Elorie’s chest tightened with fear and guilt, the words she wanted to say stuck in her throat.

Before anyone could say anything else, Jenna and Miranda appeared, both of them looking concerned as they took in the scene.

“What’s going on here?” Jenna asked, her gaze moving between the girls.

“Nothing,” Caroline said quickly, her voice firm. “We were just talking.”

“It didn’t look like just talking,” Miranda said, her tone gentle but firm. “Whatever this is, it needs to stop. Now.”

“Apologize to each other,” Jenna added, her voice brooking no argument. “We’re all here to have a good time. Let’s not ruin it.”

Elorie swallowed hard, her eyes stinging with unshed tears as she looked at Bonnie. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

Bonnie stared at her for a long moment before finally nodding. “I’m sorry too,” she said quietly, though there was no warmth in her tone.

Elena and Caroline exchanged looks before offering their own apologies, the tension slowly beginning to dissipate as Jenna and Miranda guided them away from the booth, separating them before the situation could escalate further.

Once they were out of earshot, Caroline turned to Elorie, her eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

Elorie nodded, though her heart was still racing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s just… let’s just move on.”

Caroline hesitated, clearly worried, but she finally nodded. “Okay. Let’s not let this ruin our night. There’s still plenty of fun to be had.”

They walked away from the Whack-a-Mole booth, the earlier tension still lingering in the air. Caroline led the way, trying to keep the mood light, but Elorie could feel the weight of the confrontation pressing down on her.

As they passed by Gilbert Medical, Elorie felt a strange pull towards the building. It reminded her of the garnet filled with magic her mother gave her. She turned to look at the building and suddenly heard the voice in her head again—this time louder, more insistent. 

Help me. Please.

She stopped in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat. The voice was so clear now, so desperate, that she couldn’t ignore it. It was coming from inside the building.

“El?” Caroline asked, noticing her friend’s distraction. “What’s bothering you?”

Elorie’s eyes were locked on the medical practice, her mind racing. “I… I think there’s something in there,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Caroline followed her gaze, her brow furrowing in confusion. “In Gilbert Medical? What are you talking about?”

Elorie shook her head, trying to make sense of the feeling that was pulling her toward the building. “I don’t know, but… I have to find out.”

Caroline looked at her for a long moment before nodding, determination flashing in her eyes. “Okay, then. Let’s check it out.”

As they approached the building, the festive noise of the town began to fade, swallowed by the stillness that surrounded the dark, looming structure. Caroline cast a quick glance around, making sure no one was watching before she reached for the handle. It clicked open without resistance.

Elorie paused, hesitating on the threshold. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and curiosity swirling inside her. Yet, beyond that, something deeper stirred—a magnetic pull, an irresistible call. It wasn’t just a voice in her mind; it was a force that beckoned her, luring her closer. The magic inside the building was calling to her, and she couldn’t turn back now, not with the sensation growing stronger with every breath.

The door creaked shut behind them as they slipped inside. The interior was a stark contrast to the vibrant world outside. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, and the faint glow from the streetlights cast eerie patterns across the floor. Silence pressed in on them, thick and suffocating.

“Ellie, are you sure about this?” Caroline whispered, her voice tinged with nervousness as her eyes darted around the dimly lit hallway.

Elorie barely nodded, her hand trembling at her side. “I have to know,” she whispered back, her voice tight. “It’s pulling me… I can feel it.”

The magic in the air was palpable now, a thrumming sensation that reverberated through her body. It wasn’t just a distant hum; it was alive, tugging at her like invisible threads. The power inside the building was old, intense, and it resonated with the magic that simmered within her. Elorie’s breath quickened as they moved deeper into the building, each step taking her closer to the source of that magnetic pull.

They followed the hallway, their footsteps echoing faintly against the cold, tiled floor. The closer they got, the more intense the sensation became, until it wasn’t just a pull—it was a hunger. The magic inside called to hers like a beacon, wrapping itself around her mind, whispering for her to come closer, to claim what was rightfully hers. It thrummed in her veins, urging her forward, driving her steps until they reached a door at the end of the hallway.

Elorie stopped in front of it, her hand hovering over the knob, frozen for a moment by the weight of what lay on the other side. The air seemed to thicken around her, heavy with anticipation. She could feel it now—like a heartbeat echoing through the walls, pulsing with power. Her magic surged in response, yearning to connect with whatever was waiting behind the door.

Caroline placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’re in this together, okay?”

Elorie swallowed hard, nodding slightly, and with a deep breath, she twisted the knob and pushed the door open. A narrow staircase revealed itself, leading down to the basement. The air grew colder as they descended, the scent of antiseptic mingling with something darker, more sinister. The feeling intensified with every step, the magic inside that room calling to her like a siren song. It was overwhelming, tugging at her soul, begging to be released.

At the bottom of the stairs, they stepped into a dimly lit room lined with medical equipment and old files. The hum of fluorescent lights flickered faintly above, but Elorie’s attention was locked on the far corner of the room. A heavy metal door with a barred window loomed there, radiating an almost palpable energy. Her magic surged again, as if in response to the power behind that door. She couldn’t tear her eyes away—it was as if the magic inside was alive, calling her name, demanding her attention.

The pull was undeniable now, like a tidal wave crashing over her, sweeping her toward the door. She could feel it on her skin, in her bones, in the very core of her being. Her hand shook as she reached for the handle, the magic pulsing through her fingertips.

When she pushed the door open, the sight inside took her breath away. In the center of the room was a man, strapped to a metal table, bound by thick iron cuffs at his wrists and ankles. He was skeletal, his skin a sickly pale, his face gaunt and hollow, as though he hadn’t fed in years. The slow drip of vervain from an IV stand kept him weak, rendering him unable to move or fight.

And yet, despite his frail appearance, the magic inside him was overwhelming. It called to her, desperate and raw, like a beacon of power that had been caged for far too long. Elorie felt it surge through her, the pull of his magic mingling with her own, drawing her closer. She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest as the force of it nearly knocked her off balance. The energy within him was like a storm, chaotic and wild, clawing at the edges of her consciousness.

“Elorie…” Caroline’s voice barely broke through the haze of power that filled the room, but she could hear the fear in her friend’s tone. “What is this place?”

Elorie couldn’t speak, her eyes locked on the man before her.

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape. The sight of him—so much worse than anything she could have imagined—made her eyes burn with unshed tears. This was suffering, slow and deliberate, inflicted on a creature who had once been strong and full of life.

Caroline, standing right beside Elorie, froze as her gaze fell on the man. Her usual bravado slipped, replaced by a look of horror. “Oh my God, Ellie,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What have they done to him?”

As if sensing her presence,  his head jerked up, his eyes snapping open. They were dark and wild, filled with pain and fear, and when they landed on Elorie, his expression twisted with horror.

“No, no, no,” hemoaned, his voice a raw whisper. His eyes flickered to the door, panic flaring as he realized who stood before him. “You can't be here. You need to run,” he rasped, the desperation in his voice breaking Elorie’s heart. “You shouldn't be here. Please, you have to go!”

Elorie froze, her mind racing as she tried to process his words. He wasn’t afraid for himself—he was afraid for her. He thought she was in danger, that if she freed him, he might hurt her. The thought of him, so weak and broken, being forced to harm someone else, tore at her soul.

But she couldn’t leave him like this. She couldn’t turn her back on him when he needed her most. She had to find a way to help him, to give him some hope, even if she couldn’t free him just yet. Elorie’s heart pounded in her chest, the voice in her head now aligning perfectly with the man’s words. She could feel his suffering, his desperation as if it were her own. Without thinking, she turned to Caroline, her eyes wide with urgency.

“We have to get him out of here,” Elorie whispered, her voice trembling.

Caroline looked at the man through the window, her own eyes widening in shock. “Who is he? What is this place?”

“I don’t know,” Elorie admitted, her hands shaking as she reached for the door’s lock. “But we can’t leave him like this.”

Caroline hesitated, glancing around the room as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment. “Elorie, this is crazy. We don’t know what’s going on here.”

“I know, but… I can’t explain it, Caroline. I just know that we have to help him,” Elorie insisted, her voice pleading.

“Okay, Okay, If we're doing this we have to at least know who we're saving. So, Mr. what's your name?” Caroline asked, her voice filled with concern as she kept a safe distance from the table.

The man craned his neck to look at her, his eyes flickering with a mix of worry and sadness. “My name is Enzo. Enzo St. John.” his gaze shifted back to Elorie, “I’ve been calling out for so long. How did you hear me?”

“I… I don’t know,” Elorie replied, her voice trembling. “It’s like I could feel your pain, hear your voice in my head. I had to find you and now, I don't know I have a feeling like I have to help you get out of here.”

Elorie and Caroline exchanged worried glances but nodded in agreement. They couldn’t stay here any longer and it was time to focus on the task at hand. The two girls frantically began looking around the room, searching for anything that might help them free Enzo. Caroline’s hands shook as she fumbled with the metal cuffs, her fear palpable, but she pushed through it, determined not to let it paralyze her.

“There has to be a key or something,” Caroline muttered, her voice tinged with desperation. “We can’t just leave him here.”

But their search yielded nothing, and Caroline, her hands trembling with frustration, turned back to Elorie. “What do we do? We can’t just leave him.”

Elorie’s gaze locked onto Enzo, tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, steeling herself. “I’m not leaving you,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute.

Enzo’s eyes flickered with confusion, and he shook his head weakly. “No… you don’t understand. If you let me go, I… I could hurt you. Please, just go. Don’t make me do this.”

Caroline stepped forward, her voice trembling but fierce. “We’re not leaving you here to die. There has to be something we can do.”

Enzo stared at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. “Why… why would you do that for me?”

Elorie swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the responsibility she was taking on. “Because no one deserves to be treated like this,” she said softly. “And because I can’t stand by and watch someone suffer when I can do something about it.”

Caroline nodded in agreement, her voice steadying as she added, “We’re going to get you out of here. We just need time.”

For a moment, Enzo didn’t say anything, his gaze searching hers as if trying to find the catch, the reason why this young girl would risk so much for him. But all he found was sincerity, a determination that shone through the fear in her eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can survive this… but knowing someone cares… it means more than you know.”

Elorie’s heart ached with the weight of his words, and she nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. She couldn’t let him die here, alone and forgotten. She would find a way to help him, no matter what it took.

But for now, all she could do was offer him a small bit of comfort. She carefully approached the IV stand, checking the drip rate of the vervain. It was designed to keep him weak but not kill him outright—a cruel form of control. She knew she couldn’t remove it entirely, not without risking exposure, but she could adjust the flow, and slow it down enough to give him a little more strength.

With a quick, practiced movement, Elorie turned the valve, reducing the drip to a trickle. Enzo watched her, his expression a mix of hope and caution.

“That should help a little,” Elorie said, her voice soft. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

Enzo nodded weakly, his eyes closing as he let out a shuddering breath. “It’s more than I could have hoped for.”

Elorie lingered for a moment, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what she had to do. They couldn’t stay much longer—Jenna was bound to notice they were missing—but leaving him here, even for a little while, felt like a betrayal.

“I’ll be back,” she promised, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here, I swear.”

Enzo didn’t open his eyes, but he nodded, his breathing growing more even as the reduced vervain drip took effect. “I’ll be waiting,” he whispered.

With one last, lingering glance, Elorie turned and slipped back up the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know how she was going to keep her promise, but she knew she had to try.

Chapter Text

As the days passed after their harrowing encounter with Enzo, Elorie and Caroline found themselves consumed by a quiet but intense urgency. School had started again, and with it came the familiar distractions of homework, middle school drama, and extracurricular activities. Yet, none of those usual routines could fully pull Elorie’s mind from the haunting image of Enzo—chained, weakened, and pleading. His gaunt face and hollow eyes lingered in her thoughts, like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

No matter how hard she tried to focus on the ordinary parts of her life, the desperation she had seen in Enzo stayed with her. It was like a pulse beneath her skin, constant and nagging. She knew they had to help him. But how? They were just two middle school girls, and Elorie’s powers were still unpredictable at best. The idea of freeing him felt like trying to scale an impossible mountain, with no map or tools to guide her.

Worse, Caroline had begun asking more questions—subtle at first, but growing more pointed with time. How did Elorie know Enzo was in the clinic? Why hadn’t she said anything sooner? What wasn’t she telling her?

Elorie had been tiptoeing around those questions for days now, deflecting with half-truths and vague answers. But Caroline wasn’t one to let things slide for long, and finally, during lunch one day, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

Caroline crossed her arms, her usual cheerful expression replaced with one of determination. “Okay, Elorie, enough with the dodging. How did you know Enzo was in the clinic? You’ve been acting all mysterious, and I’m your best friend. I can handle whatever you have to say, but I need to know what’s going on.”

Sighing, Elorie leaned back in her chair, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her tray. “What would you do,” she began, her voice laced with forced humor, “if I said I knew Enzo was in the clinic because I’m psychic?”

Caroline rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Well, if you’re psychic, then you can give me the answers to our math quiz next week.” She nudged Elorie’s shoulder. “Come on, El. Be serious.”

Elorie’s smile faded as she glanced around again, lowering her voice. “I am being serious, Care. There’s… more to me than you think. We’re best friends, and I trust you. But what I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell anyone. Not Elena, not Bonnie. No one.”

Caroline’s expression shifted, curiosity mixing with concern. “Elorie, what is going on?”

Elorie swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to find the courage to say the words. This wasn’t something she could take back once it was out there, and she wasn’t sure how Caroline would react. But she also knew that keeping this secret from her wasn’t fair—it was only a matter of time before Caroline figured things out on her own. Without another word, Elorie stood up and motioned for Caroline to follow her. They made their way down the hallway, Elorie leading her toward the girls’ bathroom. Once inside, she checked all the stalls, making sure they were alone.

Caroline watched her, arms still crossed, clearly confused but intrigued. “Okay, this is officially weird.”

Elorie took a deep breath, then turned to face her friend. “I’m kind of… magical.”

Caroline blinked, staring at Elorie as if she hadn’t heard her correctly. “Magical?” she repeated, a skeptical eyebrow raised. “Elorie, come on. I said be serious.”

“I am being serious,” Elorie replied, her heart pounding as she concentrated. She turned toward the sinks and, one by one, the taps began to turn on, water gushing from each faucet without anyone touching them. Caroline’s eyes widened in shock, but before she could say anything, Elorie raised her hand, and with a flick of her wrist, every toilet in the bathroom flushed at once.

Caroline jumped back, her face a mix of awe and alarm. “What the hell—”

Elorie turned to face her, a small, sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “I told you. Magical.”

Caroline’s mouth opened and closed, completely at a loss for words. She glanced from the sinks to the toilets, then back to Elorie, her blue eyes wide with disbelief. “Okay… okay, wait. So, you're telling me you can just… do that? Like, magic? For real?”

Elorie nodded, still watching Caroline’s face, waiting for the reaction to fully settle in. “Yeah. I can do more than that, but I figured this was a good way to show you without causing a scene.”

Caroline took a step back, shaking her head in amazement. “This is insane. I mean, like, Harry Potter, witches, and wands kind of insane. How long have you been able to do this? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Elorie shrugged, her expression turning serious. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react. It’s not exactly something you just drop into conversation, you know? And it’s dangerous. There are people out there who would want to hurt me if they knew what I could do.”

Caroline stood frozen, her eyes darting between Elorie and the sinks, her brain struggling to catch up with what she had just seen. “This… this can’t be real,” she muttered, shaking her head. Caroline was quiet for a moment, processing everything. Then she let out a small, breathless laugh. “This explains so much. The way you always seem to know things… Enzo… everything.”

“I am,” Elorie replied, stepping closer to her. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’s true. I’ve been keeping it from you because I didn’t know how to explain it, but I can’t keep lying to you. Not anymore.”

Caroline swallowed hard, still staring at Elorie as if she had suddenly become a completely different person. “So… all this time, you’ve been—”

“Hiding it, yeah,” Elorie finished for her. “I didn’t want to drag you into all of this, but I couldn’t exactly ignore the Enzo’s call.”

Caroline finally let out a breath, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, so… what now? What does this mean? Are you, like, in danger or something?”

Elorie nodded, her voice grave. “There are people out there who want to hurt me. And now that you know, they might come after you too. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, but… you’re my best friend, Care. I had to.”

Caroline was silent for a long moment, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the shock. “Okay. I believe you.”

Elorie felt a wave of relief wash over her, the weight of the secret finally lifting off her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude.

Caroline managed a shaky smile, though her hands were still trembling slightly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… does this mean we get to do more magic?”

Elorie laughed, the tension between them easing at last. “Maybe. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’s a lot I need to explain first.”

Caroline reached out and gave her a playful shove. “Well, now you owe me answers for that math quiz and a proper magic show. Deal?”

Elorie laughed, the tension between them finally easing. “Deal.”

Elorie lay awake one night, staring at the ceiling, thoughts spinning in circles. They’ll be watching him now, she thought grimly. The night of the festival, they had managed to sneak in because of sheer luck—negligence on someone’s part had left the entrance unguarded. But that wouldn’t happen again. Whoever was holding Enzo would have surely tightened their security by now, knowing that someone had come close to freeing him.

She turned over in bed, frustration boiling inside her. "What do we do now?" she whispered into the dark, as if the shadows themselves might have an answer.

The next day at school, she found Caroline in the hall between classes, her expression tense. Elorie had avoided bringing up Enzo since that night, mostly because she didn’t have a solution. But now, the weight of doing nothing was too much to bear.

“Caroline, we need to talk,” Elorie said, pulling her friend aside.

Caroline gave her a knowing look, already sensing what was coming. “Is this about... him?”

Elorie nodded, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “We have to help him, Caroline. We can’t just leave him there.”

Caroline sighed, her arms crossing over her chest. “I know, Elorie, but what are we supposed to do? We don’t even know who’s holding him or how to get back in.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Elorie replied, her voice low but urgent. “The festival was our way in last time, but there’s no way they’d leave things that open again. We’ll have to find another way.”

“And even if we do,” Caroline added, “what then? You’ve barely started learning how to use your magic, and we don’t even know what kind of place that is. Whoever’s holding Enzo—they’re not going to just let us waltz in and break him out.”

Elorie clenched her fists, the frustration bubbling inside her again. “I know. But I can’t just sit around and do nothing, Caroline. I felt his pain, his fear. He’s running out of time.”

Caroline’s expression softened, concern filling her eyes. She knew how much this was weighing on Elorie. “I get it. I really do. But we have to be smart about this. If we make one wrong move, we could end up right where Enzo is—locked up, or worse.”

It had been Caroline’s idea, naturally. They were sitting on the steps outside of the school, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows as Caroline absentmindedly chewed on her pencil, brainstorming ways to get closer to the clinic where they had first encountered Enzo.

“You know,” Caroline began, her eyes brightening with that spark she got whenever a plan was brewing, “if we want more information on that place, one of us could volunteer to work extra hours at the clinic—cleaning up or something. It would give us a chance to scope it out without drawing too much attention.”

Elorie raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You mean sneak around pretending we’re innocent helpers while we’re really spying on the place?”

Caroline grinned. “Exactly.”

Elorie chuckled, shaking her head. “This plan coming from the town sheriff’s daughter. I’m sure your mom would love that.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t hide her smile. “Please, my mom would be the first to volunteer us for this if she knew what was going on. She loves a good mystery. But luckily, she doesn’t need to know about this one.”

Elorie grinned, though her mind was already racing with the possibilities. Volunteering at the clinic might be the perfect cover. They could learn the layout, see who came and went, and maybe even figure out how to get back to where Enzo was being held without raising suspicion. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was a start.

“Alright,” Elorie said, nodding. “I guess it’s not a bad idea. But how do we convince them to let us work extra hours at the clinic?”

Caroline shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “We just tell them we’re good students who want to help the community. People love that kind of stuff. Easy.”

Elorie couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course. Playing the good girl card. You’d make your mom proud.”

Caroline winked. “I’m full of surprises.”

The next day, Elorie and Caroline made their way to the clinic, nerves buzzing under Elorie’s skin. Caroline, however, looked perfectly at ease, her usual confidence shining through as they entered the building. Miranda Gilbert, Elena’s mother, was at the front desk, leafing through some files when she noticed them approaching.

Miranda gave them a warm smile, but there was a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Hey, girls. What brings you two here?"

Caroline was quick to jump in, flashing her best innocent smile. "Hi, Mrs. Gilbert! Elorie and I were wondering if we could volunteer here after school. You know, help out, do some cleaning, that sort of thing."

Miranda raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Volunteering, huh? And this isn’t because you got in trouble or something, is it?"

Caroline laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Oh no, nothing like that. We’re just trying to save up for the new iPod. You know, those things are crazy expensive, and we figured this was a good way to earn some extra cash and help the community at the same time."

At the mention of the iPod, Miranda’s expression softened. "Elena’s been asking for one of those as a gift too," she muttered. She still looked a little suspicious, but her motherly instincts seemed to kick in. "Alright, fine. I could use the help, I guess. But you’ll have to split up—one of you can work as a candy striper, and the other can help with filing and small tasks."

Before Elorie could say anything, Caroline piped up, her voice full of enthusiasm. "I’ll take the candy striper job!" she said, a little too quickly.

Miranda smirked, clearly amused. "Alright, Caroline, you’ll be handing out snacks and chatting with patients. Elorie, you’ll be helping me with some of the less glamorous stuff—cleaning, organizing, that sort of thing."

Elorie bit back a sigh, though she wasn’t too surprised Caroline had jumped at the more social role. "Sounds good," she said, trying to keep her voice upbeat.

As Miranda handed out their assignments, Elorie’s mind was already racing. The plan was in motion. While Caroline distracted patients and kept an ear out for anything interesting, Elorie would have access to the quieter parts of the clinic. It wasn’t exactly the undercover mission they had imagined, but it was a start.

"Welcome aboard, girls," Miranda said, giving them both a quick, approving smile. "Just remember, no funny business. I know how you two can get when you're together."

Caroline flashed another bright smile, elbowing Elorie playfully. "Of course not, Mrs. Gilbert. We’re practically angels."

Elorie barely suppressed a laugh. Angels, right. She could only hope this plan wouldn’t get them in over their heads. But one thing was for sure: they were getting closer to figuring out how to free Enzo.

While Caroline kept the patients and staff suitably distracted with her charm and endless chatter, Elorie spent her afternoons quietly observing everything around her. She didn’t have the same natural ease as Caroline when it came to blending in, but her role as an assistant gave her the perfect excuse to stay in the background, unnoticed, as she took mental notes of the clinic’s routine.

It didn’t take long for her to figure out some key details. Tuesday was trash day, and it was the only day she was allowed into the back room where the clinic stored medical waste and other supplies. Her uncle, Grayson, always kept a very close eye on her whenever she worked in that area. His stern, watchful presence made it impossible for her to even glance toward the heavy steel doors that led to the lower levels where Enzo was trapped. The tension in the air was palpable, and Elorie was sure that if she so much as hesitated near the door, Grayson would catch on.

Thursdays were a different story. The clinic closed early, much earlier than any medical office typically would. Around the same time each Thursday, a sleek black SUV would pull up outside, its tinted windows concealing whoever was inside. Elorie had made a habit of lingering nearby, pretending to organize files or mop the floor, as people in dark suits exited the SUV and made their way inside. They never stayed long—just two hours or so—but whatever business they had in the clinic was enough to put everyone on edge. When they left, the air in the clinic always felt heavier, like a storm had passed through, leaving a strange tension behind.

Saturdays were perhaps the most peculiar. The clinic didn’t open until later in the day, and no matter how early Elorie arrived, her uncle Grayson was always there first, standing behind the counter as if he had never left. His behavior on Saturdays was strange—he was more guarded, more distant, and there was an air of secrecy about him that made Elorie's skin crawl. She had once tried to ask him if she could come in early to help set up, but he had shot her a stern look and told her it wasn’t necessary.

She didn’t dare push the issue further.

Elorie could feel the puzzle pieces slowly coming together, but there was still too much she didn’t know. Why the SUV? Who were those people, and what were they doing for two hours every Thursday? What exactly was Grayson’s role in all of this, and how much did he know about Enzo? These questions gnawed at her constantly.

But one thing was clear—her uncle was heavily involved, and whatever was happening behind those closed doors wasn’t just medical work. There was something darker at play, something connected to the supernatural world she was only beginning to understand.

Despite her growing frustration, Elorie kept her head down and played her part, all the while biding her time. She and Caroline would need more than just observations to help Enzo. They needed a plan—something that would allow them to get in without raising suspicion and, more importantly, get Enzo out.

As she left the clinic one afternoon, her heart heavy with the weight of what they still didn’t know, she made a silent promise to herself: they were going to free Enzo, no matter what it took.

The next morning, Elorie picked up her phone and called her mother again. This time, Diana answered almost immediately, her voice bright with an unusual sense of excitement.

“Elorie! I’ve been waiting for you to call,” Diana said, her tone practically gleeful. Elorie could feel the shift in her mother’s energy through the phone, and it made her sit up straighter. “I’ve been asking around, making some... inquiries. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve found out about that town you’re living in.”

“What do you mean?” Elorie asked cautiously, her heart beginning to race. “What did you find?”

Diana let out a breath, almost as if she were savoring the weight of her discovery. “Mystic Falls—it’s a beacon for supernatural activity. I had no idea when Jenna first suggested moving there. Honestly, if I had known, I wouldn’t have let you go. That place is like the apex of everything magical and dangerous. It’s not just witches, Elorie. There’re all sort of things and... who knows what else lurking there.”

Elorie’s stomach churned at her mother’s words, but it also made a strange kind of sense. It explained the strange energy she had been feeling around town, the tension, and why everything seemed to be connected in ways she hadn’t understood.

“So... what do we do?” Elorie asked, unsure of how to process this revelation. “I mean, should I be leaving? Is it too dangerous?”

Diana paused for a moment, her tone softening just a little. “Who knows how dangerous it could get? And like it or not, you’re going to have to deal with what comes with using your power. But I’m not going to leave you unprepared.”

Elorie felt a sense of dread settle in her chest. “What do you mean?”

“I’m told there’s a book,” Diana said, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “A grimoire of spells. Not just any grimoire—this one holds magic beyond what even I can teach you. It belonged to one of the most powerful witches that ever lived. If you can find it, Ellie, it will be better than anything I could give you.”

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat. “Where is it? How do I find it?”

“It’s buried somewhere in that town,” Diana continued, her voice now laced with a sense of urgency. “Well, Emily’s magic is tied to Mystic Falls, and her grimoire is rumored to hold spells that could help you unlock magic like you’d never believe—spells that have been lost for generations.”

Elorie’s mind raced. “But Sheila Bennett—she’s alive, Mom. She attacked me, and she’s powerful. What if they already have it?”

“I don’t know,” Diana admitted, her voice tight with frustration. “But if the Bennetts had it, Sheila wouldn’t have come after you. If that grimoire is still out there, it’s hidden well, and no one has found it yet. You have to be the one to find it, Ellie. I emailed you a tracking spell earlier today”

Elorie swallowed hard, the weight of the task settling heavily on her shoulders. “Okay... but how do I even begin to look for something like that?”

“You’ll have to start by getting something of the Bennetts,” Diana said, her tone sharp and decisive. “I sent you a scrying spell. But if you can find a way to get access to anything they know—old records, heirlooms, anything connected to Emily—you’ll be one step closer to the grimoire.”

Elorie nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see her. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Elorie,” Diana said, her voice softening again. “I know I’ve kept a lot from you. But I need you to understand something—you’re not just some random witch. You’re an Anders. Our bloodline is powerful, but we’re also dangerous too.”

Elorie took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I get it, Mom. I’ll be careful.”

“I’ll keep looking into what I can from here,” Diana added, her voice firm once again. “But you need to find that grimoire, Ellie. It’s the only way you’ll have a fighting chance.”

“I will,” Elorie promised, her resolve strengthening. “I’ll find it.”

“Good,” Diana said softly, almost proud. “And Elorie? Be safe. I’ll be in touch soon.”

Elorie fell back onto her bed with a long, tired sigh, staring up at the ceiling as the weight of everything pressed down on her. Emily Bennett’s grimoire. Another impossible task on top of an already overwhelming pile of problems. She felt the familiar tug of exhaustion pull at her. First, it was learning how to control her powers, then dealing with Sheila Bennett, and now she had to find a legendary book of magic to survive Mystic Falls? It felt like too much for anyone, let alone a fourteen-year-old still figuring out who she was.

She could already hear Caroline’s voice in her head, urging her not to worry too much, to take things one step at a time. But that wasn’t how Elorie’s mind worked. Everything piled up, and she felt like she was drowning in it.

A grimoire with lost spells, Bennetts watching her, Enzo trapped, and the uncertainty about her own powers—how was she supposed to fix all of this?

She ran a hand through her hair, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t her life just be normal, for once? Why did she have to carry the weight of magic, secrecy, and danger?

As she stared at the ceiling, her mind whirred through the possibilities. Finding the grimoire wouldn’t just be about learning more magic—it would give her leverage, a way to protect herself and the people she cared about. If she could get to it before anyone else, maybe she could stop Sheila from even thinking of coming after her again

But first, she’d have to figure out how to find the grimoire without drawing too much attention. The ding from her desk let her know she received an email and she assumed that was her mother finally sending over the tracking spell she needed.

One thing at a time, she reminded herself. She had to start somewhere. With a final sigh, she turned her head, staring at her computer on her desk, thinking that, at least for now, this was the beginning.

The list of things she needed to fix was growing longer every day, but she wouldn’t back down. She couldn’t.

Elorie was back at the clinic, her usual after-school routine. It was another quiet, boring day, with the sterile scent of disinfectant hanging heavy in the air and the low hum of medical equipment filling the silence. She had spent most of the afternoon filing paperwork and making herself scarce, trying to stay under the radar.

As she finished up organizing patient records, she overheard voices coming from the hallway just outside the office. She paused, recognizing one of the voices as Uncle Grayson’s.

“…I’ll be out for the medical conference in Illinois this weekend,” Grayson was saying, his tone casual but business-like. “I’ll be gone the whole time, so if anything comes up, you’ll need to contact Dr. Larson.”

Elorie’s ears perked up, her heart skipping a beat. Grayson would be gone for the weekend? That meant the clinic would be left without its usual watchful guard, and she wouldn’t have to worry about him hovering over her every move.

She quietly moved closer to the door, listening intently as Grayson continued his conversation.

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning and won’t be back until Monday. Keep an eye on things while I’m gone, and make sure everything’s locked up tight. No mistakes.”

Elorie’s mind raced. This was the opportunity she and Caroline had been waiting for. With Grayson gone, the clinic would be vulnerable—unguarded. They might finally have the chance to get back to the basement and free Enzo without anyone stopping them. But she had to be careful. They wouldn’t get another chance like this if they messed up.

She quietly slipped back to her desk, her heart pounding as she processed the news. A weekend without Grayson meant they could finally put their plan into motion. All the observations, all the waiting—this was their moment. But the idea of actually doing it sent a wave of nerves through her.

This was bigger than anything they’d done before. If they got caught… well, she didn’t want to think about what would happen.

Elorie took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. She needed to tell Caroline. They had to be ready.

It was almost too perfect. Aunt Miranda had also come down with a bad cold and was staying home, leaving the clinic completely unguarded. It was the perfect cocktail of events for them to sneak back into the clinic.

Elorie felt a surge of anticipation she hadn’t felt before. For the first time in weeks, things seemed to be aligning in their favor. She and Caroline had been preparing for this moment, and now, with the clinic unguarded, it was time to act.

After school on Friday, she found Caroline waiting by the lockers, twirling her car keys in that casual, confident way she always did. Elorie felt the nervous energy bubbling under her skin, but she pushed it down. They were ready for this. They had to be.

"Are we doing this?" Caroline asked, her voice low but full of determination.

Elorie nodded, trying to steady her breath. "Yeah. Grayson’s gone, and the clinic should be empty. We won’t get another chance like this."

Caroline grinned, though there was an edge of nerves in her eyes. "Good, because I’ve been dying to bust that creep out."

The plan was simple, but the stakes were high. Elorie had spent the last several weeks quietly pulling magic from every magical object she could get her hands on—whether it was a trinket from the antique shop or an old heirloom she’d found in her attic. Anything with the faintest magical hum, she siphoned into the seashell necklace. It had taken time, but she had slowly built up enough energy to feel confident that she could break through whatever enchantments or locks were holding Enzo in place.

She hoped it was enough.

That night, under the cover of darkness, Elorie and Caroline made their way to the clinic. The streetlights cast long shadows on the sidewalk as they approached, and Elorie’s heart pounded in her chest. The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of crickets, adding an unsettling calm to the night.

As they approached the building, Elorie glanced around, her eyes sharp for any sign of movement. The street was deserted, the town seemingly asleep, but Elorie knew better than to trust appearances. She led Caroline to a nearby light post, where the circuit box was mounted, her heart pounding with anticipation. Step one of her plan was to fry the circuit breaker. No electricity.  No cameras. No problem.

“We need to cut the power,” Elorie whispered, her voice steady despite the tension. “It’ll give us the cover we need.”

Caroline nodded, her eyes wide but determined. She kept watch, her breath shallow as Elorie placed her hand on the circuit box.

Elorie focused, feeling the familiar pull of her siphoning ability. She felt the power within the box, the current running through it, and with a deep breath, she let her magic flow out of her and into the box.

There was a small zinging sound, followed by a sharp flash of light. The circuit box sparked, and a thin trail of putrid smoke began to rise from it. Elorie’s heart skipped a beat as the streetlights flickered, then went out, plunging the entire area into darkness.

“Let’s go,” Elorie whispered urgently, her voice barely audible in the thick night air.T

The clinic loomed in front of them, dark and empty, just as they had hoped.

"Are you sure about this?" Caroline whispered as they stood by the door. "We’re not going to get caught, right?"

Elorie took a deep breath, steadying herself. "We’ll be in and out. I’ve got enough magic stored up. We can do this."

With trembling hands, Elorie reached for the door. To her relief, it wasn’t locked—Grayson must have assumed no one would dare try anything while he was gone. A flicker of hope surged through her. 

The darkness enveloped them, but Elorie felt a strange sense of calm. The locket around her neck was warm, pulsing faintly with the magic she had stored in it—a reassuring presence that kept her focused on the task at hand. They slipped inside, the clinic eerily quiet, the only sound their soft footsteps on the linoleum floor. Elorie could feel her magic thrumming beneath her skin, the energy she had stored building up, ready to be released.

They made their way toward the back of the clinic, where the heavy steel doors loomed—doors that led to the underground area where Enzo was being kept. The same doors Grayson had always kept her away from.

Elorie reached out, her hand hovering over the door handle, feeling the faint vibration of the enchantments that were placed on it. She swallowed hard, gathering her strength.

"Ready?" she whispered to Caroline, who nodded, her face tense with determination.

Elorie closed her eyes and focused, pulling from the power she had stored. She felt the necklace heat up around her neck as the magic flowed through her and into the door, searching for the enchantments. It was like pulling at threads, unwinding the knots that held the magic in place.

The air around them seemed to hum, and for a moment, Elorie felt like the world had slowed down. She concentrated, pushing harder, feeling the resistance in the spell break under the weight of her siphoning.

Then, with a faint click, the lock disengaged.

Elorie let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding as she opened the door. "We’re in."

Caroline gave her a tight smile. "Let’s go."

As they descended the stairs into the basement, the air grew colder, the silence more oppressive. Elorie’s heart raced, but she pushed the fear aside, her determination to free Enzo stronger than the dread gnawing at her insides. She knew they didn’t have much time; the darkness wouldn’t keep them hidden forever.

Finally, they reached the door to the basement room where Enzo was being held. Elorie hesitated for just a moment, taking a deep breath before she pushed the door open. The dim light from a single, flickering bulb illuminated the room, casting long shadows across the walls.

Enzo had been moved from the table and was now chained to the wall, his body slumped forward as if the weight of the chains was too much to bear. His wrists were bound in iron cuffs, and his arms stretched above his head, forcing him into a painful, hunched position. His once-vibrant eyes were dull, his skin pale and stretched taut over his bones.

Elorie’s heart clenched at the sight, a mixture of anger and sorrow welling up inside her. She couldn’t imagine the pain he must have endured, the hopelessness he must have felt, being left to rot in this dark, forgotten place.

As they approached, Enzo’s head lifted slightly, his eyes fluttering open. He saw them, and a faint spark of recognition flickered in his gaze. A weak, almost disbelieving smile touched his lips.

“You… came back,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Of course we did,” Caroline said softly, “We promised, didn’t we?”

Elorie’s hands shook as she reached out to touch the chains, feeling the cold iron beneath her fingers. “We’re going to get you out of here,” she said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands.

Elorie’s hands shook as she reached out to touch the chains, feeling the cold iron beneath her fingers. “We’re going to get you out of here,” she said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands.

“But first, uh, Care-Bear,” she started, glancing gently at her best friend.

“Ah, right!” Caroline quickly rummaged through her backpack and pulled out two bags of blood. With practiced ease, she stabbed a straw into one and held it out to Enzo. “You should probably eat before we let you go, so you don’t, you know… eat us.”

Enzo blinked in surprise, a faint smirk touching his lips despite his weakened state. “Smart thinking,” he murmured, gratefully taking the bag. He bit into the straw, the color slowly returning to his face as he drank.

Caroline handed him the second bag as soon as he finished the first. “Take your time, but not too much,” she said with a nervous smile. “We’ve got to get out of here, but we want you strong enough to walk on your own.”

Elorie watched as Enzo drank, the blood revitalizing him right before her eyes. The sight of it was both reassuring and unnerving, a reminder of the precarious nature of the situation. But seeing Enzo regain his strength filled her with hope.

Finally, after draining the second bag, Enzo handed it back to Caroline, his movements steadier, his eyes sharper. “Thank you,” he said, his voice stronger now. “I won’t forget this.”

“Good,” Caroline replied, flashing him a grin. “Now let’s get those chains off you and get out of here.”

With Enzo now more alert and visibly stronger, the urgency to free him from his chains intensified. Elorie took a deep breath, steadying herself as she prepared to siphon the magic from the locket into the iron cuffs. The weight of the task bore down on her, but she refused to let the fear show. Caroline was counting on her, and Enzo’s life depended on it.

She placed her hand on the first iron cuff, feeling the cold metal bite into her skin. The locket pulsed in her other hand, the magic within it thrumming like a heartbeat. Elorie closed her eyes, concentrating on the flow of power. She visualized the magic moving from the locket, through her, and into the cuff.

Slowly, she felt the warmth of the magic seep into the metal. It resisted at first, the ancient iron holding firm, but Elorie pushed harder, willing the energy to break through. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she heard a faint crackling sound. The cuff began to weaken, the metal groaning under the strain of the magic.

“El, you’re doing it,” Caroline whispered her voice a mix of awe and encouragement. She stayed close, ready to help in any way she could, but knowing this was something only Elorie could do.

Finally, with a sharp snap, the first cuff broke open, the metal clattering to the floor. Enzo winced as his wrist was freed, the skin beneath raw and bruised, but the relief in his eyes was unmistakable.

“One down,” Elorie murmured, her voice tinged with both exhaustion and determination. She moved to the second cuff, repeating the process. The locket felt lighter in her hand, the magic within it dwindling as she channeled it into the chains.

The second cuff took longer to break, the iron resisting her efforts more stubbornly. Elorie gritted her teeth, pouring the last of the locket’s magic into it. The metal heated under her touch, glowing faintly before finally giving way with a sharp crack.

Enzo’s arm dropped to his side, the chain falling away as the cuff broke open. He took a deep, shaky breath, rubbing his sore wrists as he stepped away from the wall, finally free from his bindings.

“Thank you,” Enzo said, his voice thick with emotion. He looked at Elorie with a depth of gratitude that left her momentarily speechless. “I don’t know how to repay you for this.”

“You can repay us by getting out of here alive,” Caroline said, her usual light-heartedness returning as she flashed him a grin. “Now that you’re not chained to a wall, we have a fighting chance.”

Elorie offered Enzo a small, tired smile. “We need to move quickly. The power outage won’t keep the place dark for long, and we’ve already made too much noise.”

Enzo nodded, his resolve hardening as he pushed himself upright. Though still weak, he was far stronger than when they had first found him, and the blood Caroline had provided had given him the boost he needed.

They moved swiftly, making their way back up the stairs. The building was eerily quiet, the only sound being the soft shuffle of their footsteps and the faint creak of old wood beneath their weight. Elorie’s heart pounded in her chest, each step bringing them closer to freedom—and the danger that awaited outside.

As they reached the main floor, Elorie paused, holding up a hand to signal the others to stop. She listened intently, her senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The darkness from the power outage still cloaked the building, but that same darkness could also conceal threats.

“Do you hear anything?” Caroline whispered, her voice barely audible.

Elorie shook her head, her senses on high alert. “No, but we need to be careful. If anyone’s here, they’ll be watching the exits.”

Enzo’s expression was grim, his eyes scanning the shadows. “We can’t afford to get caught now. Not after everything you’ve done.”

Elorie nodded in agreement. “We’ll use the back door, stay in the shadows. If we move quickly, we can get out before anyone notices.”

They crept toward the back of the building, their movements silent and purposeful. Elorie led the way, her heart hammering in her chest as they approached the exit. She reached for the door, praying that it would be unlocked. To her relief, the door creaked open, revealing the cool night air beyond.

“Go, now,” Elorie urged, pushing the door wider.

Enzo slipped through first, his movements more fluid and determined now that he was free. Caroline followed closely behind him, her eyes darting around as she kept watch. Elorie was the last to step outside, the darkness of the night swallowing them as they made their escape.

They stayed close to the building, moving quickly and quietly through the shadows. The night air was crisp, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat of the basement. Elorie’s pulse raced, her senses still on high alert as they made their way toward the edge of town.

When they finally reached the cover of the trees, Elorie allowed herself to breathe a little easier. They had made it out of the building, but the night wasn’t over yet. There were still too many unknowns, too many dangers lurking in the darkness.

“Where do we go from here?” Caroline asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We need to find a safe place to regroup,” Elorie replied, glancing at Enzo. “Somewhere we can hide until we figure out our next move. My mom’s working tonight, so we can head back to my house. It’s close, and no one will think to look for us there.”

Caroline nodded in agreement, relief flashing across her face. “That sounds perfect. We could all use a break.”

With a plan in mind, the three of them moved quickly but carefully through the trees, keeping to the shadows as they made their way to Elorie’s house. The night air was cool against their skin, and the adrenaline from their escape still buzzed in their veins.

When they finally reached Elorie’s house, it was quiet and dark, the front porch light casting a faint glow over the steps. Elorie felt a sense of calm wash over her as she approached the familiar place, the one constant in the chaos of her life.

But as she reached for the doorknob, she noticed Enzo hanging back, a look of hesitation on his face. She paused, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Enzo?”

Enzo shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking toward the door before meeting hers. “There’s, uh, something I should probably mention,” he said, his voice awkward. “I can’t actually enter a dwelling unless I’m invited in.”

Caroline stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked between Enzo and Elorie. “Oh, right! Vampire rules. I forgot about that.”

Elorie couldn’t help but smile, the tension easing slightly. “Well, then. Consider this your official invitation,” she said, her tone teasing as she gestured toward the door. “Enzo, you’re invited into my house. Please, come in.”

Enzo relaxed visibly, a small, grateful smile playing on his lips. “Thank you,” he said, his voice warm despite the exhaustion that still clung to him. He stepped forward, finally able to cross the threshold.

The three of them entered the house, the door closing softly behind them. The familiar scent of home filled the air, and for a moment, everything felt almost normal. Elorie led them into the living room, where they could finally sit down and catch their breath.

As they settled onto the couch, Caroline stretched out with a relieved sigh. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see a living room.”

Elorie chuckled, leaning back against the cushions. “You and me both.”

Enzo, sitting slightly apart from the girls, looked around the room with a curious expression. “You have a nice place, Elorie,” he said, his tone sincere. “Thank you for letting me in.”

Elorie smiled, feeling a strange mix of pride and vulnerability. “You’re welcome,” she replied softly. “We’ll be safe here for the night. We can figure out our next move in the morning.”

The night passed quietly after their daring escape, the adrenaline gradually fading as the first light of dawn crept through the windows of Elorie’s bedroom. Enzo had stayed just long enough to regain his strength, resting on the oversized purple dragon beanbag chair in the corner of her bedroom, while Caroline and Elorie kept watch, their senses still heightened by the fear of being discovered.

But as the hours ticked by and the world outside began to stir with the beginnings of a new day, Enzo knew it was time to go. He couldn’t risk staying any longer, not with Jenna due home soon. He stood in the living room, his strength returned but his expression still tinged with the weight of what had happened.

“I need to leave before your mom gets in,” Enzo said, his voice low but steady. He looked at Elorie with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something that hinted at the bond they had forged in those dark hours. “But I will return. I owe you both more than I can say.”

Elorie nodded, a sense of sadness tugging at her as she realized he had to go. “You don’t owe us anything, Enzo. We did what we had to do.”

Caroline stood beside her, her usual cheerfulness tempered by the gravity of the situation. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t let them catch you again.”

Enzo offered a small, wry smile, a hint of his usual charm breaking through. “I’ll do my best. And thank you, both of you, for everything. I won’t forget this.”

With a final nod, Enzo turned and slipped out the back door, disappearing into the early morning shadows. As the door clicked shut behind him, Elorie felt a profound sense of pride well up inside her. She and Caroline had done something extraordinary—they had freed someone from a nightmare that most people couldn’t even begin to imagine. And as she stood there in the quiet of her home, she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was a reason her mother had given her to Jenna, a reason why she had ended up here, in Mystic Falls.

Perhaps she was meant to be here, to save people.

The thought was both empowering and terrifying. For so long, she had seen herself as an outsider, someone cursed with powers she didn’t fully understand, struggling to find her place in a world that wasn’t her own. But now, in the aftermath of everything that had happened, she began to see things differently.

Maybe her mother had known that Elorie was destined for something more, something important. Maybe that was why she had entrusted her to Jenna, to keep her safe until she was ready to fulfill whatever purpose lay ahead. And maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of that purpose.

Elorie sat down on the couch, the room around her still and quiet. Caroline had fallen asleep in a chair, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. Elorie watched her friend for a moment, a soft smile tugging at her lips. They had been through so much together already, and she knew they would face even greater challenges in the days to come. But she also knew that, whatever happened, they would face it together.

As she leaned back, closing her eyes, Elorie allowed herself to imagine a future where she could use her powers to help others, to protect the people she cared about, to fight against the darkness that seemed to creep into every corner of Mystic Falls. It wouldn’t be easy, and she knew she would face dangers she couldn’t yet comprehend. But she was ready—ready to embrace the role she was beginning to believe she was meant to play.

For now, though, she allowed herself to rest, the quiet morning light filtering through the curtains, bringing with it a sense of hope. Enzo was safe, at least for the moment, and they had proven that they could make a difference. That knowledge filled Elorie with a renewed sense of purpose, one that she knew would guide her in the days ahead.

Chapter Text

The days and weeks that followed Enzo’s escape saw a gradual shift in Elorie’s life. The quiet, uncertain girl who had once kept to herself was slowly blossoming into someone more confident, more sure of her place in the world. The experience of helping Enzo had awakened something within her—a sense of purpose, a belief that perhaps she was here for a reason.

At school, Elorie began to hold her head a little higher, to speak with more conviction. Her bond with Caroline deepened, the two of them becoming nearly inseparable. Caroline, ever the social butterfly, seemed to bring out the best in Elorie, encouraging her to step out of her comfort zone and embrace the life she was starting to build for herself.

But as Elorie grew more confident, the dynamics around her began to shift in ways she hadn’t anticipated. At school, she noticed a subtle but unmistakable change in how Elena and Bonnie treated her. It started with small things—a cold glance from Bonnie in the hallway, Elena’s conversations becoming more clipped, more distant. At first, Elorie tried to brush it off, telling herself that it was just her imagination, that nothing had really changed. But as the days passed, the tension became impossible to ignore.

Bonnie’s influence over Elena was strong, and as Bonnie’s unease around Elorie grew, so did Elena’s. Bonnie had always been intuitive, sensitive to the energies around her, and something about Elorie unsettled her deeply. The more Bonnie distanced herself from Elorie, the more Elena followed suit, and soon enough, the rift between them became a chasm.

Then came the reports—rumors spreading through the school like wildfire—that someone had broken into the Gilbert clinic. Equipment was missing, valuable items stolen. The details were vague, but the timing was too close to Enzo’s escape for Elorie to ignore. Worse, Bonnie had been quick to point out that Elorie and Caroline had disappeared during the festival, then they had started working at the clinic, right around the time the theft was said to have happened.

One afternoon, as Elorie and Caroline walked through the halls of Mystic Falls Middle School, they were cornered by Elena near the empty lockers, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Care to explain why you two were hanging around the clinic during the festival?” Elena asked, her tone icy. “Because it’s funny—right after you were seen there, stuff started going missing.”

Elorie stiffened, her heart pounding in her chest. “We weren’t—”

“Don’t lie,” Elena interrupted, crossing her arms. “Bonnie saw you. She said you two were playing Whack-a-Mole, then you just… vanished. Then you start working at my parents clinic. And now this?”

Caroline stepped forward, her voice defensive. “We weren’t doing anything wrong, Elena. We were just—”

“Just what?” Elena shot back, her voice rising. “Just breaking into my dad’s clinic? Because that’s what it looks like!”

Elorie’s throat tightened, guilt and fear twisting inside her. She glanced at Caroline, who was glaring at Elena with fiery determination, ready to defend them both.

“Why are you so quick to accuse us?” Caroline snapped. “We didn’t steal anything. All we did was sing songs to some old people and help with filing. Maybe you should be asking who else had access to the clinic instead of jumping to conclusions about your own friends!”

Elena’s eyes flashed with anger, but before she could respond, Bonnie appeared at the end of the hallway, her expression cold as she approached.

“There’s something about you two that doesn’t add up,” Bonnie said quietly, her gaze locking onto Elorie’s. “You’ve been acting strange since the festival, and now this happens? It’s too much of a coincidence.”

Elorie felt a shiver run down her spine at Bonnie’s words. There was something unnerving about the way Bonnie looked at her, as if she could see straight through her, right to the secrets she was desperately trying to keep hidden.

“We didn’t do anything,” Elorie insisted, her voice trembling slightly. “We were just… exploring. That’s all.”

“Exploring the clinic?” Bonnie asked, her tone skeptical.

“We weren’t in the clinic,” Caroline interjected, her voice sharp. “And if you’re so sure we did something, where’s your proof, Bonnie? Or are you just going to keep throwing around accusations?”

Before the confrontation could escalate further, the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. Students began to fill the hallways, their chatter drowning out the tension between the four girls.

“This isn’t over,” Elena said, her voice low and threatening. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

With that, she turned and walked away, Bonnie following close behind. Elorie and Caroline watched them go, a heavy silence settling between them.

Caroline was the first to speak, her voice quieter now. “What are we going to do, El? They’re not going to let this go.”

Elorie shook her head, her mind racing. “I don’t know. But we need to be careful. If they keep digging… they might find out more than we want them to.”

That night, Elorie sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by the worn, weathered pages of the grimoires she’d collected over the past few weeks. The room was dimly lit by a small lamp on her nightstand, casting a warm, golden glow over the piles of books and notes strewn across her bed. She had been pouring over ancient spells and protection charms for hours, trying to distract herself from the growing anxiety gnawing at her gut.

The incident at the clinic had changed everything. Rumors were spreading through school, and now people were asking questions. And it wasn’t just the usual whispering or suspicious glances—staff had been told not to come back, herself and Caroline included. Things were unraveling, and fast.

Elorie closed the grimoire in her lap, the soft thud breaking the silence of the room. She let out a long breath, trying to calm the rising panic. She needed help. She needed someone who knew how to navigate these kinds of situations, someone like—

A wild thought crossed her mind, and she sat up a little straighter. Enzo.

She had no idea if he was still around, but he had mentioned staying in town. Maybe he hadn’t gone far. Maybe…

Without fully thinking it through, Elorie walked over to her window and threw it open, the cool night air rushing in and sending a shiver down her spine. She leaned out slightly, glancing around at the shadows cast by the moonlight. It felt ridiculous, but she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Enzo?”

She waited, her heart racing. The only sound was the rustling of leaves in the breeze. She was about to close the window and give up when a voice floated up from the shadows below.

“You called?”

Elorie’s eyes widened in surprise. She leaned out farther, her heart skipping a beat as she saw him—Enzo, standing at the base of her house, looking up with a smirk that somehow managed to be both charming and dangerous.

“I… yeah, I wasn’t sure you’d actually hear me,” she admitted, her voice wavering between disbelief and relief.

Enzo’s grin widened as he started to climb the side of the house with an ease that made it clear he’d done this before. Within seconds, he was at her window, swinging one leg over the ledge and stepping into her room.

“Well, it’s hard to miss when someone’s calling my name in the dead of night,” he teased, brushing the dust from his jacket. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Elorie stepped back, suddenly aware of how small her room felt with him in it. She had never really had a vampire casually climb into her window before.

“I—uh, I needed to talk to you. About the clinic,” she started, running a hand through her hair, unsure of how to begin.

Enzo’s expression shifted from playful to serious in an instant. “The clinic. Go on.”

She glanced down at the books scattered on her bed, trying to organize her thoughts. “People are asking questions. The staff, Caroline, and I—we were all told not to come back for a while. They’re saying equipment went missing after that night… and we were there. I’m worried they’ll start digging deeper. That they’ll figure out what happened, and then—”

“Then it all leads back to me,” Enzo finished, his voice calm but laced with tension. He leaned against the window frame, arms crossed. “I take it you’re asking for my help?”

Elorie nodded, biting her lip. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want you to get caught… and I don’t want this to come back on us either.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of the situation pressing down on them both. Enzo’s dark eyes scanned her face, and she could tell he was assessing the gravity of the situation. Then he gave a small nod, his expression softening.

“I’ll handle it,” he said simply.

Elorie blinked. “Just like that?”

Enzo’s smirk returned, though it was tinged with something more serious. “I have my ways, love. Don’t worry about the clinic or the missing equipment. It’ll be like it never happened.”

Relief washed over her, but there was something else gnawing at her. “And what about you? How are you surviving? You know… with the whole blood situation?”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her phrasing. “Ah, yes. That delightful part of my existence.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing out the window for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “I’ve been feeding on animals while I get my bearings.”

Elorie frowned. “Animals? That can’t be enough. Isn’t it… weaker?”

“It’s not ideal,” Enzo admitted with a shrug, “but it’s better than nothing. Keeps me from attracting unwanted attention. I’ll manage until I find something more… substantial.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, the thought of him surviving on animal blood making her uneasy. He was a vampire—one who had been through hell—and she knew he was barely holding on. It wasn’t just about the blood. He was still regaining his strength, still figuring out how to live in a world that had changed so much while he was locked away.

“And how long do you think you can manage that?” she asked softly, concern creeping into her voice.

Enzo’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the bravado fell away, revealing the weariness beneath. “Long enough,” he said, though the words carried a weight that made her chest tighten.

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them thick with unspoken worries. Elorie wanted to help, wanted to fix everything, but she felt powerless in the face of it all.

“Enzo…” she started, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. “I just—I don’t want you to get hurt. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

Enzo’s smile was small but genuine. “I’ve been through worse, Elorie. But I appreciate the concern.” He paused, his gaze searching hers for a moment. “You’ve done more for me than you realize, you know.”

She felt her cheeks flush slightly, but before she could respond, he pushed off from the window frame, his smirk returning. “Now, let me worry about the clinic. You just keep your head down, alright?”

Elorie nodded, the tension easing slightly in her chest. “Alright.”

He moved to the window, ready to slip back into the night, but he turned back to her one last time. “And if you ever need me again, just call. I’ll be around.”

With that, he disappeared into the darkness, leaving Elorie standing alone in her room, the faint breeze from the open window ruffling the pages of the grimoires on her bed.

The tension reached a peak one evening during the bi-weekly family dinner at the Gilbert house. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words as they all sat around the table, the clinking of silverware the only sound breaking the silence.

Jeremy, sitting next to Elorie, leaned over and whispered something that made her laugh—a genuine, carefree sound that momentarily lifted the heaviness in the room. He didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care—about the growing tension between his cousin and his sister.

Miranda, noticing the interaction between Jeremy and Elorie, smiled warmly. “It’s so nice to see you two getting along,” she said, her tone filled with motherly affection. “Elorie, you’ve been such a good influence on Jeremy. He’s even reading books without pictures now.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes good-naturedly but didn’t protest. “Elorie’s always been cool, Mom. We just get each other.”

“So much so that I think there isn’t a square inch of my living room that isn’t covered with the latest edition of Percy Jackson. I swear Mir, all they do is sit and read, and when they aren’t reading they’re on the internet looking up when the next one drops” Jenna teased lightly.

Elorie’s cheek flushed, Jeremy had always been easygoing, and he and Elorie had developed a quiet but comfortable camaraderie over the past few weeks. While researching the town’s mystical background and anything she could find on vampires or witches she found Jeremey in the fantasy comic aisle and the rest is as they say…history.

“You know mum, Ellie and I just entered a Percy Jackson Art competition online, and if we win we’ll get to visit the set where they’re gonna shoot the movie. Isn’t that cool?”

Miranda’s eyes widened with delight. “That’s amazing! I had no idea you two were working on something like that. You’ll have to show me your entries.”

“Yeah, we’ve been working on it for a while,” Elorie added, her voice soft but filled with a quiet pride. “It’s been fun, and Jeremy’s got some serious talent.”

Jeremy grinned, clearly pleased with the praise. “Ellie’s the real artist. I just add the finishing touches.”

Their conversation continued in this light, easy manner, with Jenna and Miranda exchanging amused glances. For a moment, the tension that had been simmering between Elena and Elorie seemed to dissipate, replaced by the warmth of family and shared interests.

But as the conversation went on, Elena’s silence became more noticeable. She poked at her food, her expression growing more sullen as the minutes ticked by. Finally, she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Of course she’s perfect,” Elena muttered under her breath, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Miranda frowned slightly, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her daughter. “Elena, there’s no need for that tone.”

Elena bristled, her fork clattering against her plate. “I just mean… everyone’s always talking about how great Elorie is, how I should be more like her. But maybe I’m tired of being compared to a weirdo like her all the time.”

The room fell silent, the tension thickening as Elena’s words hung in the air. Elorie felt a pang of hurt at her cousin’s words, but she kept her expression neutral, not wanting to escalate the situation.

“Elena, no one’s asking you to be like anyone else,” Jenna interjected gently, trying to diffuse the situation. “You and Elorie are different, and that’s okay. We love you both for who you are.”

But Elena wasn’t ready to let it go. “Then why does it always feel like she’s the one everyone’s proud of? Like I’m just the disappointment?”

Miranda’s expression softened with concern. “Elena, that’s not true. We’re proud of you too, in different ways. But you have to understand, Elorie’s been through a lot. She’s still finding her way, just like you are.”

Elena’s frustration boiled over, her voice laced with bitterness. “Yeah, and I bet we’re so similar now since neither of us have dads, right?”

Before Miranda could respond, she seemed to stiffen slightly, her gaze flickering to the empty chair that should have been occupied by John Gilbert. A fleeting look of irritation crossed her face. “Your father’s just been a bit busier with work than usual, Elena,” she said, her tone more clipped than before. “You’re not a disappointment to anyone.”

Elena, however, wasn’t ready to let it drop. “Maybe I wouldn’t think that way if everyone wasn’t always comparing us,” she snapped, her frustration clear.

“Oh, Ellie made the tennis team. Ellie entered an art competition. Ellie did this. Ellie did that. You ever think maybe she has so much time to do all this stuff because she doesn’t actually have any friends?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Elorie’s eyes widened in shock, her fingers curling into a tight fist under the table. The sting of Elena’s words cut deep, her anger bubbling just below the surface. She wanted to say something, anything, to bridge the widening gap between them, but the words wouldn’t come.

Before Elorie could find her voice—or act on the impulse to slap Elena across the face—her cousin pushed her chair back with a screech and stood up abruptly. “I’m not hungry anymore,” Elena said, her voice tight with barely restrained emotion. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving the others in an awkward, uncomfortable silence.

Jenna sighed heavily, rubbing her temples as if trying to fend off an impending headache. Miranda’s expression was strained, a mix of concern and frustration as she watched Elena disappear up the stairs.

Jenna sighed, rubbing her temples as if warding off an impending headache. “I’ll talk to her,” she murmured, though her voice was weary.

Miranda nodded, her gaze following her daughter as she disappeared up the stairs. “She’s just going through a lot right now. We all are.”

Elorie, feeling like an outsider in her own family, quietly excused herself from the table, her appetite gone. She slipped out onto the back porch, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating tension inside.

As she stood there, looking out at the darkened yard, she couldn’t help but wonder how things had gotten to this point. The distance between her and Elena felt insurmountable, and Bonnie’s growing hostility only made things worse. It was as if the closer Elorie got to understanding her place in this world, the further she drifted from the people she cared about.

Jeremy found her outside a few minutes later, leaning against the porch railing with a concerned look on his face. “Elorie, don’t let Elena get to you,” he said softly, coming to stand beside her. “She’s just… she’s been different lately. Someone broke into the clinic recently, and they stole some important equipment. Dad got into big trouble with some of his investors in the clinic. We might have to sell it and then he’ll go back to working at the hospital. My parents have been arguing about it all week”

Elorie turned to look at him, her eyes reflecting the hurt she was trying to keep buried. “I didn’t know things were that bad,” she said quietly.

Jeremy shrugged, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Yeah, well, they’ve been keeping it pretty hush-hush, but the tension’s been impossible to ignore. It’s like everything’s just… falling apart.”

Elorie’s heart ached for him, for all the weight he was carrying on his shoulders and the part she clearly played in it. “I’m sorry, Jeremy. I wish there was something I could do.”

Jeremy shook his head, offering her a small, sad smile. “It’s not your fault. We’re all just trying to figure things out. But Elena… I think she’s taking it harder than the rest of us. She feels like everything’s slipping out of control, and I guess she’s lashing out at you because you’re the one thing that’s been… steady.”

Elorie looked down, her fingers tracing the worn wood of the porch railing. “Steady, huh? I don’t feel very steady.”

“You are,” Jeremy insisted, his tone firm but kind.

Elorie met his gaze, and for a moment, the heaviness in her chest lifted just a little. “Thanks, Jeremy. That means a lot.”

He gave her a reassuring nod. “We’ll get through this. All of us. Things might be rough right now, but it won’t stay that way forever. And if you ever need someone to talk to… you know where to find me.”

Elorie smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes despite the lingering sadness. “Same goes for you. We’re in this together.”

They stood there in companionable silence, the cool night air wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. The distant sounds of the town settling down for the night drifted toward them, the peacefulness outside a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the Gilbert house during dinner.

“You’re stronger than you think, Jeremy. And you’re not alone.” Jeremy offered her a small smile, one filled with a mix of gratitude and weariness.

“Thanks, Ellie. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” she replied softly. The quiet of the night was eventually broken by the sound of footsteps behind them. Jenna stepped out onto the porch, her face a mixture of concern and exhaustion.

“You two okay out here?” she asked, her voice gentle. Elorie and Jeremy both nodded, sharing a quick glance before turning back to Jenna.

“We’re fine, Mom,” Elorie replied. “Just… talking.”

Jenna nodded, stepping closer to them and wrapping an arm around Elorie’s shoulders. “I know things have been rough lately,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “But we’re a family, and families stick together. We’ll get through this.”

Elorie leaned into Jenna’s comforting embrace, feeling a surge of gratitude for the woman who had taken her in, who had loved her as her own. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Jenna smiled down at her, a warmth in her eyes that made Elorie’s heart ache with love and gratitude.

“Anytime, kiddo. Now, why don’t we all head inside and try to get some rest? Tomorrow’s a new day, and we’ll face it together.”

Jeremy nodded, pushing himself off the railing. “Sounds like a plan. Night, Ellie.”

“Goodnight, Jeremy,” Elorie replied, offering him a small, reassuring smile as he headed back inside.

As the evening drew to a close, Jenna motioned for Elorie to grab her things. The quiet hum of the car filled the silence as they made their way back home, the road winding through the darkened streets of Mystic Falls. Elorie stared out the window, her thoughts a tangled mess of emotions and worries. The tension from dinner still hung heavy in the air, but it was the guilt gnawing at her that weighed the most.

The car hummed softly as Jenna’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, the dark streets of Mystic Falls rolling past in a blur. Elorie sat in the passenger seat, her fingers twisting the hem of her hoodie, tension gnawing at her insides. The weight of dinner’s confrontation and Jeremy’s revelations about the clinic robbery sat heavy on her chest. It was like everything was spiraling out of control, and she was helpless to stop it.

Jenna hadn’t said much after they left the Gilbert house, but Elorie could feel her aunt’s questions hanging in the air between them. The silence wasn’t peaceful; it was the kind of silence that preceded something important. Something inevitable.

Finally, Jenna broke the stillness, her voice steady but soft, like she was picking her words carefully. “Elorie, I couldn’t help but notice… when Jeremy mentioned the clinic being robbed, you looked… stricken.”

Elorie’s heart skipped a beat, her fingers freezing in place. She could feel Jenna’s gaze flicking toward her, just for a second, before returning to the road.

“You looked like you already knew,” Jenna continued, her tone cautious, as if she didn’t want to accuse but couldn’t shake the suspicion. “Like it wasn’t news to you.”

Elorie swallowed hard, trying to keep her expression neutral, but the lie felt heavy on her tongue. “I didn’t know,” she whispered, the words sounding hollow even to her ears.

Jenna nodded slowly, like she was weighing Elorie’s response, turning it over in her mind. “Okay,” she said, though the tension in her voice made it clear she wasn’t entirely convinced. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Elorie stayed quiet, staring out the window as her mind raced for something—anything—to say. The truth was too dangerous, too complicated, and she didn’t want to lie to Jenna. But what other choice did she have?

Jenna continued, her voice careful but pressing. “You and Caroline disappeared for a while during the festival… and then you both started working at the clinic not long after that. It’s all a little too coincidental, don’t you think?”

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat. She knew Jenna was piecing it together, but she wasn’t sure how much her aunt had already figured out. “We were just exploring,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know how Caroline is—she always wants to check out every little thing.”

Jenna glanced at her again, her expression unreadable. “Elorie, I know you two are curious, but this feels different. You weren’t just exploring, were you?”

Elorie’s heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the secret she was keeping pressing down on her. She wanted to tell Jenna everything—to spill it all and let her aunt in on the truth—but how could she? How could she explain the supernatural world without sounding insane? Without putting them all at risk?

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet Jenna’s gaze. “It’s… complicated.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Complicated how?”

Elorie took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “Well…” she began softly, the word feeling strange on her lips, but comforting all the same. Jenna turned to look at her, her expression concerned but patient.

“What is it, Ellie?” Jenna asked, her voice gentle.

Elorie swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly. “There’s… something I need to tell you. And it’s… it’s a lot. But you deserve to know.”

Jenna’s brow furrowed, her gaze sharpening. “What’s going on?”

Elorie exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. “It’s about the clinic. And… Enzo.”

At the mention of Enzo’s name, Jenna’s posture shifted, her shoulders tensing as if she were bracing herself for bad news. “What about the clinic? And who’s Enzo?”

Elorie bit her lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the right way to explain. There was no easy way to say it, no gentle way to break the truth. “Enzo… he’s not exactly… human.”

Jenna blinked, her confusion deepening. “What do you mean, ‘not human’? Did you make a witch friend?”

Elorie hesitated, the enormity of the confession looming before her. But there was no turning back now. “He’s a vampire,” she said quietly, the words hanging in the air like a weight. “And he was being held at the clinic. Uncle Grayson… he’s part of something called Augustine. They’re… they’re experimenting on vampires. And I think he’s involved.”

Jenna’s face paled, her eyes widening in disbelief and she pulled over the car to focus. “What? Ellie, that’s—what are you talking about?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Elorie said quickly, her voice trembling with the urgency of her words. “But it’s true. I found Enzo—he was chained up in the basement, being tortured. Caroline and I… we helped him escape.”

Jenna’s breath caught, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Ellie… Grayson wouldn’t—he couldn’t be involved in something like that.”

“I didn’t want to believe it either,” Elorie admitted, her voice breaking slightly. “But Enzo told me everything. Augustine is a group of scientists, and they’re studying vampires, experimenting on them. And Uncle Grayson… he’s a part of it.”

Jenna shook her head, as if trying to shake off the weight of what Elorie was saying. “No, that doesn’t make sense. Grayson’s a doctor, yes, but he wouldn’t—he wouldn’t hurt people.”

Elorie’s heart ached at the pain in Jenna’s voice, the way she was struggling to reconcile the man she knew with the truth Elorie was laying bare. “He’s not just hurting people, Mom,” Elorie said softly. “He’s torturing vampires. He’s… he’s part of something terrible.”

Jenna stared ahead, her eyes glassy with disbelief. For a moment, she said nothing, the only sound in the car the faint hum of the engine. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she turned to Elorie, her voice barely above a whisper. “How… how do you know this is true? How do you know Enzo isn’t lying?”

“Because I saw it,” Elorie replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “I saw the chains, the vervain they used to weaken him, the way they kept him alive just to study him. And Enzo… he’s not a monster, Jenna. He’s scared. He’s been through hell, and he’s not the only one. There are more like him, being held somewhere, and Uncle Grayson… he knows about it.”

Jenna closed her eyes, her breath shaky as she tried to process the flood of information. Elorie could see the storm of emotions playing across her aunt’s face—shock, disbelief, anger, and a deep, aching hurt. It was as if the world she thought she knew had been turned upside down, and she was scrambling to make sense of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Jenna asked, her voice cracking.

“I didn’t know how,” Elorie admitted, her own guilt weighing heavily on her chest. “I didn’t want to believe it either. But now… now people are asking questions. Caroline and I were told not to come back to the clinic. I’m worried someone may have seen us go back to the clinic that night.”

Jenna’s hands were trembling as she wiped a tear from her cheek. She sighed, rubbing her temples as if trying to process everything. “You know I trust you to do the right thing. But I need you to be careful. I know you feel like you need to figure everything out and protect everyone… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Elorie felt a wave of relief, mixed with guilt for not being fully honest. “I will be,” she promised, her voice soft but sincere. “I’m just trying to figure it all out.”

Jenna gave her a long, searching look, then nodded. “Alright. But if things get too dangerous, you come to me. No more secrets. We’re in this together, okay?”

Elorie nodded, her chest tightening with emotion. “Okay.”

The car fell silent again, but this time the tension had eased slightly. Jenna’s words had settled something inside her, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. She wasn’t alone in this, even if she couldn’t share everything yet. Jenna was her anchor, the one person who had always been there, no matter what.

As they pulled into the driveway, Elorie glanced out at the darkened house, the weight of the night still heavy on her shoulders. The clinic, the supernatural world, Enzo—it was all crashing down around her, and the only thing she could do was keep moving forward. She had to figure out what was really happening in Mystic Falls, and more importantly, she had to protect the people she cared about.

Jenna parked the car and turned to Elorie, her expression softening. “Get some rest, kiddo. We’ll deal with whatever comes tomorrow.”

Elorie nodded, managing a small smile. “Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight,” Jenna replied, her voice full of warmth.

When she entered her bedroom, something on her bed immediately caught her attention. A small package lay neatly in the center of her comforter, along with a folded note. Heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, Elorie approached and picked up the note first.

It was from Enzo.

Ellie,
Thank you for everything. I know what you’ve risked to help me, and I won’t forget it. I’ve collected many things during my travels and I hope this helps you as much as you’ve helped me. You’ll find it useful. Use them well. - Enzo.

Her heart pounded as she set the note aside and opened the package. Inside, she found an old, worn grimoire and a small bronze dagger. The dagger’s blade was etched with runes, radiating a strange energy that made her fingers tingle the moment she touched it. The power in the dagger was immediate, almost overwhelming. It coursed through her, leaving her slightly dizzy. It was more magic than she’d ever handled before, and it was both thrilling and unsettling. She quickly placed the dagger down, steadying herself.

The grimoire, too, hummed with a quiet magic, its pages filled with handwritten spells and notes. It looked old, and the symbols inside weren’t just random scribbles—they were detailed, purposeful. This was serious magic. And now it was in her hands.

Elorie sat down on the edge of her bed, staring at the items in front of her. A question nagged at her mind: Where had Enzo even stashed these before Augustine got their hands on him? Elorie scooped up the items and locked them away in her desk drawer alongside the other grimoires she had collected. The drawer rattled slightly as she turned the key, a sound that somehow made her feel both secure and uneasy.

She couldn’t keep stashing dangerous artifacts in a desk drawer forever. The thought gnawed at her as she stared at the locked drawer. Maybe it was time to start thinking about a long-term solution. She couldn’t afford to have something like this fall into the wrong hands, or worse, be used against her.

Chapter Text

Elorie came down the stairs, the smell of freshly made waffles and scrambled eggs greeting her as she entered the kitchen. Jenna was at the island, sipping her coffee, the morning newspaper spread out in front of her. Her brow was furrowed, and there was a tension in her shoulders that Elorie recognized immediately—something was wrong.

Without saying much, Elorie grabbed a plate and helped herself to the food Jenna had prepared. The waffles were still warm, and she drizzled syrup over them, trying to shake off the unease in the air.

“I’ve been thinking,” Elorie started, her voice casual but her mind on the pile of grimoires and the dagger locked in her desk. “The grimoire Enzo gave me—it’s got some powerful stuff in it. I might need to, I don’t know, start thinking about setting up a spell room or something. Somewhere safe to work on things. What do you think?”

There was no response. Jenna hadn’t even looked up from the paper. She was staring at something with such focus that Elorie paused mid-bite, her fork hovering over her plate.

“Mom?” Elorie asked, setting her fork down. “What do you think?”

Jenna slowly put the newspaper down, her eyes still locked on the page. She looked up at Elorie, her face tense with something that was more than just stress. Without a word, she turned the paper toward Elorie and pointed at an article on the front page.

The headline read: "Fire Engulfs Gilbert Clinic—One Dead."

Elorie’s stomach dropped.

The article was accompanied by a picture of the clinic, black smoke billowing from the windows as flames licked at the roof. According to the report, a medical assistant had been on a smoke break near the oxygen tanks, and the entire clinic had gone up in flames. The assistant hadn’t made it out.

Jenna’s voice was tight, barely concealing her worry. “Was this Enzo?”

Elorie froze, mid-sentence, her fork hovering above the waffles as she processed what Jenna had just said. Her eyes flickered to the newspaper in Jenna's hand, dread pooling in her stomach. "Wait, what?" she whispered, staring at the picture, her mind racing. Had Enzo done this?

Jenna slid the paper toward her, her finger tapping a picture of the burned-out Gilbert clinic. “Was. This.  Enzo?"

Elorie’s heart pounded as she scanned the article. It mentioned a fire, started by a medical assistant who was apparently on a smoke break too close to the oxygen tanks. The clinic had gone up in flames, and the assistant… dead.

Her mind raced. Could Enzo have had something to do with this? Had he gotten too close to the clinic, or worse—had he been caught? She swallowed hard, the taste of the waffles now bitter in her mouth.

"I... I don’t know," Elorie muttered, her voice shaky. "He said he’d handle things, but—this?" She glanced up at Jenna, whose face was etched with concern and suspicion.

Jenna sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. “Elorie, if he’s involved in this, then things are getting way out of hand. You’re talking about building a spell room, and now this? A fire, someone dead? This is more than I bargained for.”

Elorie set her fork down, guilt and fear twisting inside her. “I didn’t ask him to do this. I didn’t know… I just wanted to fix things, to protect us. Please-”

Jenna’s gaze softened slightly, but the worry remained. “I get that you’re trying to help, Ellie, but this is escalating. If Enzo’s behind this, then we’re in over our heads.”

Elorie bit her lip, “Please don’t send me away.”

Jenna’s eyes widened. “Ellie…”

Jenna’s breath hitched, and her gaze softened, the tension in her body briefly giving way to something gentler. “Ellie, I’m not going to send you away.”

Elorie let out a shaky breath, her fingers gripping the edge of the kitchen counter as if it was the only thing keeping her steady. “I just—I didn’t think things would spiral like this. I wanted to help him, and now...”

Jenna moved closer, setting her coffee down and resting her hand on Elorie’s shoulder. “I know you’re trying to do the right thing, but this is dangerous. Fires, people dying... freeing a vampire…? We need to dial down some of the excitement and attention we’re drawing to ourselves. To Mystic Falls.”

Elorie nodded, her mind spinning with a million thoughts. Was this Enzo’s doing? She didn’t know, but the fact that someone had died made her stomach churn.

“I’ll talk to him,” Elorie said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll figure out what happened.”

Jenna nodded but didn’t look reassured. “Just be careful, Ellie. We can’t afford any more surprises like this.”

Elorie stared at the newspaper again, the image of the clinic in flames searing into her mind. Whatever Enzo had done—or whoever was responsible—this was more than she had bargained for. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep everything from falling apart.

Elorie sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, surrounded by candles and open grimoires, practicing her spellwork with a quiet determination. The room was filled with the faint hum of magic, the air heavy with concentration as she carefully traced runes into the air, the energy crackling at her fingertips.

She had been at this for hours, trying to distract herself from the unease that had been gnawing at her ever since the fire at the clinic. The smell of burning herbs and the low flicker of candlelight provided a fragile sense of peace, but deep down, she couldn’t shake the worry about what Enzo might have done. Was he involved? And if so, how far had things escalated?

As she focused on the energy flowing through her hands, a soft, almost imperceptible knock came from the window, startling her out of her trance. Elorie looked up, her heart skipping a beat when she saw a familiar silhouette standing just outside in the dark.

It was Enzo.

Quickly, she stood, brushing off her hands as she made her way to the window. She hesitated for a brief moment, unsure of what he would say—or what she would say—but then stepped back, silently giving him the space to climb in.

Enzo slipped through the window with his usual grace, landing quietly on the floor before straightening up, his eyes scanning the room before settling on her. “Practicing, are we?” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Elorie crossed her arms, trying to hide her nerves. “It’s been a long day.”

Enzo gave her a knowing smile, but there was something more serious lurking beneath it. “I can imagine,” he replied, glancing at the grimoires scattered around the floor. “You’re getting better.”

She didn’t return the smile. Instead, she cut to the chase. “The clinic… was that you?”

Enzo paused, his expression growing more somber as he stepped toward her. “I handled it.”

Elorie’s stomach twisted. “Handled it? Someone’s dead, Enzo. There was a fire. You said you’d take care of things, but I didn’t think—” She broke off, her voice shaking slightly.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Enzo said firmly, his voice low and steady. “The fire was an accident. Some fool was smoking near the oxygen tanks.”

Elorie’s eyes widened, and she took a step back, the weight of the situation crashing down on her. “But you were there,” she whispered. “You were part of this.”

Enzo’s jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze steady on her. “I had to make sure no one would trace anything back to you. To us. The Augustine group had their hands all over that clinic. I had to cover our tracks.”

Elorie’s mind raced. She had wanted to believe that things could be fixed without anyone getting hurt, but this? “I didn’t want anyone to die, Enzo.”

He stepped closer, his voice softer now. “I know. And I didn’t want that either. Sometimes things go wrong. Sometimes there are casualties.”

She turned away from him, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “This isn’t what I wanted. I just… I just wanted to fix things.”

Enzo sighed, stepping beside her. “You did. You helped me more than you realize. That fire wasn’t your fault. But it’s time for me to go. I’ve stayed long enough, and now that I’ve tied up loose ends, it’s time I move on.”

Elorie’s head snapped up, her heart suddenly sinking. “You’re leaving?”

He nodded. “I need to find a witch who can help me with a daylight ring. I can’t keep living like this—hiding in the shadows. And I’ve drawn enough attention here. It’s safer for you if I’m not around.”

The thought of him leaving left a hollow ache in her chest. Despite everything, Enzo had become… someone she trusted, someone who understood the darker parts of her world. “But what if something happens? What if—what if Augustine comes after you again?”

Enzo’s expression softened, and he placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “I’ve survived worse. I’ll be fine.”

“What if I need you?” Elorie bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions in check.

He smiled faintly. “Then you call, and I’ll come running. But you don’t need me right now, Ellie. You’ve got this.”

Elorie stared at him for a moment, her thoughts racing. Then, an idea sparked in her mind. “Wait—what if I could help you?”

“You?” Enzo raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious.

“I’ve been looking for a old grimoire,” she explained quickly, her voice gaining confidence. “It may have the spell for creating daylight rings. I think… I think I could do it. If you give me a few more days to find it, I can figure it out.”

Enzo’s expression shifted to one of genuine surprise. “You’re serious?”

Elorie nodded. “How hare could it be? If you can stay around town for a little longer, I can make you a daylight ring.”

Enzo studied her for a long moment, as if weighing the risks. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. “Alright, love. I’ll give you a few more days. But no pressure, yeah? If it doesn’t work out…”

“It will,” Elorie said firmly, though inside, she was still grappling with her own doubts. “Be careful, okay?”

“I always am,” Enzo replied with a small wink. He stepped back, glancing once more around her room, as if taking it all in for the last time. “Good luck” And with that, he turned, climbing back out the window and disappearing into the night.

Eventually, the weariness of the day caught up with her, and Elorie found herself struggling to keep her eyes open. She glanced at the clock, noting how late it had gotten. As she climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, Elorie tried to relax. In the back of her mind, she could feel that dark presence again, lurking just beyond her consciousness, waiting for the right moment to strike. It was a reminder that no matter how much she prepared, there were still forces at work that she didn’t understand, forces that could change everything in an instant.

Elorie’s dreams that night were filled with shadows and whispers, a restless sleep that offered little comfort. And when she awoke the next morning, the unease hadn’t faded. She paced the length of her bedroom, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She had been trying to call her mother for  hours, but every time, the call went straight to voicemail. It was frustrating, and more than that, it made her feel alone. She needed to tell her mother about the grimoire, about what she had discovered, and more importantly, about the nightmares that had started creeping into her sleep ever since she began using the spells.

She stared at her phone, her thumb hovering over the call button again, but she hesitated. What if Diana didn’t answer? What if her mother didn’t care? The thought gnawed at her, feeding into the loneliness that was already starting to consume her. Elorie tossed the phone onto her bed with a frustrated sigh, running her hands through her hair as she tried to shake off the sense of dread that had been clinging to her ever since the nightmares started. At first, she thought they were just stress. After all, she was dealing with a lot: trying to figure out her powers, protecting Jenna, keeping everything hidden from Caroline and her friends, and now Enzo’s situation. It was enough to make anyone’s mind go haywire.

But these dreams were different. They felt too real, too vivid. Like she was wading through thick, suffocating darkness. She could feel the fear in the air, could taste it on her lips, cold and metallic. Each time she woke up, her heart would be pounding, her sheets soaked with sweat. And the worst part? The nightmares were getting worse.

She had used the protection spells from the grimoire to safeguard the house, to keep her and Jenna safe from whatever was out there, lurking. But it hadn’t stopped the darkness from seeping into her mind. Every night it seemed to grow stronger, more oppressive. Elorie sank onto the edge of her bed, her hands trembling as she stared at the grimoire on her desk. What was happening to her? 

Every night, the dreams had gotten worse. It wasn’t just vague images anymore—it was like wading through a nightmare that was more real than the world she woke up in. The shadows felt alive, creeping closer, their cold tendrils wrapping around her until she couldn’t breathe. Sometimes, she heard whispers, voices she didn’t recognize but somehow felt familiar. They called to her, tugging at something deep within, urging her toward something she didn’t understand.

It all seemed to spiral out of control after she had tried the tracking spell her mother had sent. She was close. Incredibly close to locating the Bennett grimoire. She just needed more time than she had. And someone to talk to about what she was going through.

She needed to talk to someone—anyone—but the one person who might have answers wasn’t picking up her calls. She heard Jenna calling her from below. Reminding her she was going to be late for school, she had no choice but to push those thoughts aside.

The next day at school, Elorie met up with Caroline by the lockers. The blonde was practically bouncing on her toes, her usual energy cranked up a notch.

“You would not believe the routine we’re working on for the next game,” Caroline said, her voice full of excitement. “It’s going to be epic! But I swear, between cheer practice and schoolwork, I’m missing out on all the magic witchy vamp fun.”

Elorie smiled, though there was a hint of weariness in her eyes. “You’re not missing much,” she replied, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. “It’s mostly me trying not to blow anything up. Here, look.” She opened her locker and pulled out a pen, holding it up to show Caroline. With a small, focused movement of her hand, the pen began to levitate, hovering just above her palm.

Caroline’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across her face. “That is so cool! You’re like, a total pro at this now.”

Elorie chuckled, letting the pen drop back into her hand. “Hardly. I’m just trying to keep it together.”

As she slipped the pen back into her locker, they heard footsteps approaching. Elorie turned just in time to see Bonnie and Elena walking by, deep in conversation. Bonnie seemed particularly distracted, her expression tense as she spoke quietly to Elena.

Elorie tried to stay out of their way, but as Bonnie passed, she bumped into Elorie. The contact was brief, but it was enough—Elorie felt a sudden rush of energy, a pull she hadn’t intended. Before she could stop herself, she had siphoned a small amount of magic from Bonnie.

Bonnie’s reaction was immediate. She gasped, her eyes widening in shock and pain as she stumbled back, clutching her arm. “What did you just do to me?” she demanded, her voice high and accusing.

Elorie’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Bonnie shouted, her voice trembling with anger. “You did something! I felt it!”

Elena stepped forward, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. “Bonnie, calm down. I’m sure it was just an accident.”

Caroline, sensing the tension, quickly intervened. “It was an accident, Bonnie! Elorie didn’t mean to do anything!”

But Bonnie wasn’t having it. “You’re such a freaking weirdo!” she yelled, glaring at Elorie. “Stay away from me, you freak!”

Elorie felt a surge of anger and hurt at Bonnie’s words. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but before she could say anything, Elena stepped in, her voice cold. “Maybe it’s best if you keep your distance, Elorie. We don’t need any more of your ‘accidents.’”

That was the breaking point. The argument quickly devolved into a shouting match, with all four girls exchanging heated words. Caroline stood by Elorie’s side, defending her against Bonnie’s accusations, while Elena tried to calm her friend down but ended up fueling the fire.

The commotion quickly drew the attention of a nearby teacher, who rushed over to break up the fight. “That’s enough!” the teacher barked, glaring at the girls. “All four of you—detention, now!”

Elorie’s heart sank as the words registered. Detention. Just what she needed on top of everything else.

As they were marched off to the detention room, the tension between the girls was palpable. Bonnie refused to even look at Elorie, while Elena kept throwing concerned glances at her friend. Caroline walked beside Elorie, her expression a mixture of anger and frustration.

“I’m so sorry, Care,” Elorie muttered as they walked. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Caroline shook her head, her jaw clenched. “It’s not your fault, Ellie. Bonnie’s just… she’s just scared, that’s all.”

They entered the detention room and took their seats, Elorie couldn’t shake the feeling that things had just gotten a lot more complicated. She could still feel the dark presence lurking at the edges of her mind, a reminder that the dangers she faced weren’t just external—they were inside her, too.

As the minutes dragged on in the detention room, the monotony of the ticking clock and the low hum of the air conditioning began to lull Elorie into a state of drowsiness. She tried to stay awake, but before she knew it, her eyelids grew heavy, and she slipped into an uneasy sleep. The world around her faded away, when the vision came crashing over her like a tidal wave, dragging her down into its depths. It was different from her usual dreams—sharper, more vivid, as if she were living it in real-time rather than watching it unfold from a distance.

In the vision, she was standing in the shadows of a darkened alley, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched Caroline, her best friend, struggling against someone she couldn’t see clearly. The night was thick with tension, the air heavy with the scent of blood and fear.

Caroline’s blonde hair was matted with sweat, her usually bright eyes wide with terror. She thrashed against the grip of her attacker, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Elorie wanted to scream, to run to her, but she was rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to do anything but watch as the scene unfolded before her.

Then, with a sickening realization, Elorie saw the telltale flash of fangs, the gleam of predatory eyes as the figure leaned in closer to Caroline’s neck. The world seemed to slow down, every detail magnified—the way Caroline’s body tensed, the desperate plea in her eyes, the moment of resigned acceptance when she realized there was no escape.

“No!” Elorie tried to shout, but the word caught in her throat, her voice lost to the darkness that surrounded her.

The vampire’s fangs sank into Caroline’s neck, and Elorie felt the pain as if it were her own—a sharp, burning sensation that tore through her. She watched in helpless horror as the life drained from her best friend, as Caroline’s struggles grew weaker, her body slumping against her attacker.

Elorie’s vision blurred with tears, her heart breaking as she saw the light in Caroline’s eyes flicker and fade. But the vision wasn’t over. The scene shifted, and now Caroline was lying on the cold, hard ground, her skin pale as death. The vampire knelt beside her, a cruel smile on their lips as they bit into their own wrist and pressed it to Caroline’s mouth.

“No,” Elorie whispered again, her voice trembling with despair. “Please, no…”

Caroline’s lips parted instinctively, and she drank the vampire’s blood, sealing her fate. The transformation was immediate—Caroline’s body convulsed, her back arching as the vampiric blood coursed through her veins, burning away the remnants of her humanity. Her eyes snapped open, now dark and predatory, and she let out a guttural growl as the hunger took hold.

Elorie could only watch, powerless, as her best friend—her sweet, kind, loyal Caroline—became a creature of the night, her soul lost to the darkness. The pain of it was unbearable, a physical ache that tore through Elorie’s heart and soul. She wanted to wake up, to escape this nightmare, but the vision held her captive, forcing her to witness every excruciating moment.

Finally, as Caroline’s transformation completed, the vision began to fade. The last thing Elorie saw was Caroline’s cold, unfeeling eyes locking onto hers, a twisted smile on her bloodstained lips. Then, mercifully, the darkness swallowed her whole, and Elorie was jolted awake, gasping for breath.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, her body drenched in sweat. The vision had been so real, so terrifyingly vivid, that it took her several moments to convince herself that it hadn’t actually happened—that Caroline was still alive, still human.

But the fear lingered, gnawing at her insides. She knew the visions weren’t just dreams—they were warnings, glimpses of possible futures that could come to pass if she wasn’t careful. And this one… this one was worse than anything she had ever seen before.

Elorie jolted awake in the detention room, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a harsh, unforgiving glare on the drab surroundings. For a moment, she couldn’t tell where she was—the vividness of the vision still clung to her like a second skin, the image of Caroline’s transformation seared into her mind.

She blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. The cold metal of the desk beneath her hands felt grounding, reminding her that she was still in the real world. But the fear that had gripped her in the vision hadn’t dissipated; it hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. She needed a plan, and she needed it fast. The clock was ticking, and the danger was closing in.

Across the room, the other students in detention were oblivious, some doodling on the edges of their papers, others staring blankly at the clock, willing the minutes to pass faster. Caroline was at the desk beside her, her attention focused on a magazine she’d smuggled in, flipping through the pages with a bored expression. She looked so normal, so unaware of the danger that lurked just out of sight.

Elorie felt a surge of protectiveness rise up in her chest. She had to do something—she couldn’t just sit by and let the vision come true. But how could she protect Caroline without revealing too much, without drawing attention to the supernatural world that was creeping ever closer to them?

She glanced around the room, her mind racing. She needed to talk to Caroline, to warn her without scaring her. But there was no way to do that here, with so many prying eyes and ears. She needed to get out of this room, to figure out a plan, but her body still felt heavy with the lingering dread of the vision.

The room’s door creaked open, and the detention supervisor, Mr. Harvey, glanced up from his newspaper. “Five more minutes, people,” he announced, his voice gruff, but it was enough to jolt Elorie back into the present.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. Five minutes. That was enough time to compose herself, to try and push the vision to the back of her mind where it wouldn’t overwhelm her. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the mundane—on the ticking clock, the scratching of pens on paper, the faint hum of the overhead lights. Anything to keep the panic at bay.

But her mind kept drifting back to Caroline, to the image of her friend lying lifeless on the cold ground, only to awaken as something entirely different. The memory of Caroline’s eyes—those cold, unfeeling eyes—sent a shiver down her spine.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of detention, Elorie’s heart leaped into her throat. Caroline stood up, stretching casually, as if nothing was wrong as if the world hadn’t just been tipped on its axis.

Elorie gathered her things with trembling hands, trying to steady herself. As they walked out of the classroom together, Caroline glanced at her, frowning slightly.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Caroline said, her voice laced with concern.

Elorie forced a smile, though it felt shaky at best. “I’m fine, just… didn’t sleep well last night.”

Caroline studied her for a moment, her eyes narrowing in the way she did when she knew Elorie was hiding something. “If you say so. But you know you can talk to me, right?”

Elorie nodded, her heart aching with the weight of the secret she was now carrying. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Care.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, the noise of the bustling school fading into the background as Elorie’s thoughts churned. She had to find a way to protect Caroline, to prevent the vision from coming true. But how? The vision was so vague, the details so uncertain. All she knew for sure was that danger was coming, and it was coming fast.

“Hey,” Caroline said, breaking the silence. “Let’s grab a milkshake after school, okay? You look like you could use some sugar in your system.”

Elorie managed a more genuine smile this time. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

As they walked down the hallway together, Elorie couldn’t shake the feeling that the shadow of the vision was still looming over her, dark and foreboding. The future was uncertain, and the path ahead was fraught with danger. But she wasn’t going to let it defeat her. Not now, not ever. She was going to fight for Caroline, for Jenna, for all of them—even if it meant facing the darkness head-on.

Chapter Text

Elorie had been pacing for what felt like hours when her phone finally rang. The number was unfamiliar, but as soon as she answered, she recognised the rushed, breathless voice on the other end.

“Elorie?” Diana’s tone was strained, like she was speaking between hurried breaths. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. Things are… complicated.”

Elorie gripped the phone tighter, her frustration and relief battling inside her. “Complicated? Mom, I’ve been trying to reach you for days! What’s going on?”

Diana exhaled, and even through the phone, Elorie could sense her mother’s exhaustion. “I had to get rid of my old number. They were tracking me. I can’t stay in one place too long—it’s not safe. I might need to go underground for a while.”

Elorie’s frustration bubbled over. “And you couldn’t have told me that? You just disappeared! I’ve been trying to reach you because... something’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong? Did you find the grimoire?”

 “I know where it is now. But I can’t go get it. It’s in a cemetery, and I can’t exactly walk up in there and dig up someones grave to get it. More importantly I’ve started having these nightmares—dark, weird ones. I don’t know what’s happening.”

There was a long pause before Diana responded, her voice now more composed but still guarded. “Nightmares? That’s to be expected.”

“To be expected? Mom, these aren’t just nightmares. It’s like I’m drowning in darkness, and I can feel the fear. It’s like something is... watching me.”

Diana was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again, her tone had shifted—still worried, but colder now. “Well, you’ve been searching for the Bennett grimoire, haven’t you? Elorie, that’s not something they’d just let you have.”

Elorie scoffed. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s some angry Bennett ancestor haunting me.”

Diana’s sharp intake of breath echoed through the phone. “That’s... not impossible.”

Elorie’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait, seriously? I was kidding.”

“I’m not,” Diana replied, her voice tight. “You’re pulling on magic in that area. Lots of dead witches. Not all of them will be happy about it.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Elorie clenched her jaw. “Just let these nightmares keep happening? I’ve been trying to protect myself, but... it’s like they’re getting worse.”

Diana’s tone softened, though there was still a distance to it. “I’ll email you something. A spell. It’ll help keep the ancestral spirits at bay while you sleep. It won’t stop your connection to the magic, but it should stop the nightmares from getting worse.”

Elorie fell silent, frustration and fear swirling inside her. “Fine,” she muttered.

The line went dead, and Elorie sat staring at her phone, feeling more alone than ever. Whatever was coming, whatever darkness was looming, she had to be ready. Her gaze drifted to the grimoire on her desk, the one Enzo had given her the night before. She pushed herself off the bed, walking slowly toward the desk. Her fingers brushed the cover of the grimoire, and for a second, she hesitated. The weight of it, both physical and magical, was heavy in her hands. The old, leather-bound book was filled with spells, rituals, and ancient knowledge, all of which could be useful in the coming years. She sighed, her eyes moving to the window as she considered her next move.

Maybe, just maybe, Enzo could help her with this too. “You can do this Elorie,” she whispered to herself, steeling her nerves. Then, louder, she called into the night, her voice soft but clear. “Enzo, if you can hear me… I need your help. Come by my room tonight.”

She opened the window, the cool evening breeze brushing against her skin as she leaned out. The night was quiet, the town settling into the peacefulness that always felt a little too fragile, too fleeting.

She waited a moment, her heart pounding as the words lingered in the air. There was no immediate response, no sign that he had heard her, but she knew better than to expect anything else. Enzo had a way of appearing when he was least expected, and she could only hope that tonight would be one of those times.

Closing the window, she turned back to her desk, her thoughts already racing ahead. If Enzo could get his hands on the grimoire, she could finally have what she needed to take the next step in her plan. But until then, all she could do was prepare—and wait. She tried to distract herself by flipping through the pages of the grimoire Enzo had given her, but her mind kept drifting back to the window, to the possibility that he might not come. What if he hadn’t heard her? What if he was too far away, or worse, what if something had happened to him?

Pushing those thoughts aside, she forced herself to focus. There were still spells in the grimoire that could be useful, ones that could help her lay the groundwork for what she needed to do. But even as she tried to concentrate, a nagging worry tugged at her mind—none of this would matter if she couldn’t get the daylight ring spell. That was the key to everything, the one thing that could give her the leverage she needed. As the hours ticked by, the house grew quieter. Jenna had gone to bed early, and the stillness that settled over the house only heightened Elorie’s sense of unease. She was about to give up and try to get some sleep when a faint rustle outside her window made her freeze.

She turned, her breath catching in her throat as she saw a shadow move across the wall. A second later, Enzo stepped through the open window, his movements smooth and silent as always. He looked exactly as he had the last time she saw him, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and concern.

“You called?” he asked, his voice low and almost teasing, but there was a seriousness behind it that told Elorie he knew she wouldn’t have reached out unless it was important.

Relief flooded through her, and she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “You heard me.”

“Of course I did,” Enzo replied, crossing the room to stand in front of her. “You sounded like you needed a favor.”

Elorie nodded, her earlier anxiety returning now that he was here. “I need your help,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “I thought you’d had leave already.”

“I was undecided about my next move,” Enzo murmured, his voice gentle as he took a seat on her bed “I can’t risk Augustine getting their hands on me again, but I wanted to give you more time to work.”

His words made her chest tighten, and she glanced up at him, a sudden idea igniting in her mind. “That's where my favor comes in” She blurted out, the thought escaping before she could fully process it. Elorie took a steadying breath, meeting Enzo's questioning gaze. "I used a scrying spell," she explained. "I was able to pinpoint the general location of the grimoire. It's somewhere in the old cemetery on the edge of town. I believe it's buried with some guy named Giuseppe Salvatore."

Enzo's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. "Giuseppe Salvatore," he repeated thoughtfully. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in a long time. He was the father of Damon and Stefan Salvatore."

Elorie nodded. "Exactly. So based on my research Emily Bennett was closely connected to the Salvatore family. It makes sense that her grimoire might be hidden with someone she trusted. If I can retrieve it, not only can I find the daylight ring spell for you, but I might also learn more about controlling my own magic."

The mention of Salvatore elder made his jaw tighten, the reminder of past betrayals flickering in his eyes. “So, the old bastard took it to his grave,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Typical.”Enzo considered her request, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’re asking me to dig up a grave, love. That’s not exactly a simple task.”

“I know,” Elorie said quickly, “but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I need that spell, Enzo. It’s the only way I can protect you and the people I care about.”

He studied her for a moment, the room silent except for the faint sounds of the night outside. Finally, he sighed. "Alright. Suppose I agree to this grave-robbing escapade. How do you propose we proceed? I'm still without a daylight ring, and the cemetery isn't exactly open for visitors after dark."

Elorie offered a faint smile. "Actually, that's where I thought you could help. With your abilities and my magic, we can get in and out unnoticed. I've been practicing, and I think I can cloak us from any prying eyes. As for the daylight issue, we'll have to go just before dawn or find some heavy-duty umbrellas."

Enzo chuckled softly at that. "Cloaking spells and umbrellas. Sounds like quite the adventure."

She met his eyes earnestly. "Enzo, I know it's a lot to ask. But we both stand to gain from this. You get your daylight ring, and I get the knowledge I need to control my powers and protect myself from the Bennetts."

Enzo leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the darkening sky outside before he turned back to Elorie. "I could sneak into the cemetery and find it myself," he suggested, his tone casual, though there was a seriousness in his gaze. "If the grimoire's buried with Giuseppe Salvatore, I can handle it. I’m faster, and I know how to move unnoticed. I’ve had plenty of practice."

Elorie blinked, caught off guard by the offer. "You think you can just go in, dig it up, and leave without anyone noticing?"

He gave a small, amused smile. "I've escaped much worse, love. A cemetery at night is hardly a challenge for me."

She frowned slightly, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am.” He looked back at her, his expression softening once more. “And if I brought you something of his—a bone, perhaps? Would that be enough for you to track down someone for me?”

The thought made her stomach turn slightly, but she nodded, knowing it might be necessary. “Yes, I could do that. But let’s focus on the ring first. Once we have that, we can figure out the rest.”

Enzo gave a small, approving nod, as if satisfied with her answer. “Very well, then. I’ll get you what you need, but be careful, little one.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice firm despite the unease that lingered in her chest. “But I’m ready.”

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You’ve got more grit than most, Elorie. Don’t ever lose that.”

Before she could respond, he was already moving toward the window, his movements swift and silent. “I’ll be back with the grimoire as soon as I can. In the meantime, take care of yourself, and keep your head down.”

With that, Enzo slipped out of the window and into the night, disappearing as quickly as he had arrived. She watched the darkness for a moment, her thoughts racing with everything that had just transpired.

She stood there for a moment, staring out into the night where Enzo had vanished, the reality of our conversation settling over her like a heavy blanket. The room felt strangely empty without him, the silence pressing in on all sides. She had just made a promise to help a vampire—a dangerous, complicated vampire—and she knew there was no turning back now.

Closing the window, She turned back to her desk, the grimoire still open to the pages she had been studying earlier. The symbols and incantations that once seemed so foreign now felt like pieces of a puzzle she was slowly starting to understand. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with dangers she couldn’t yet predict. But she wasn’t the same girl who had arrived in Mystic Falls, unsure of her place in the world. She had grown, and learned, and she was determined to keep learning.

As the night stretched on, she delved back into the grimoire, she mind focused on absorbing every piece of knowledge it offered. The soft glow of the lamp cast long shadows across the pages, but she didn’t mind. The darkness was no longer something to fear—it was something to understand, to navigate, and to eventually control. Time slipped by unnoticed, the quiet ticking of the clock the only reminder that the night was passing. She read and re-read the spells, committing them to memory, thinking about how each one could be useful in the coming weeks. She could lay a few protection spells on the house with the last of the magic from the garnet  and the necklace. She’d still need a steady supply of magical artefacts to siphon from. Maybe thats something Enzo could help her with, she thought closing the book.

Then at least when Enzo returned with the grimoire, she would be ready.

The first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, soft and pale, signaling the start of a new day. She closed the grimoire, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but her mind still racing.Her mind was still racing, the spells and warnings swirling around in her thoughts, but her body ached for rest. She knew she couldn’t leave the grimoire out in the open. Too dangerous. Too tempting for curious eyes.

With a tired sigh, she stood and walked to her desk, pulling open the small, cluttered drawer. She carefully placed the grimoire inside, moving aside old notebooks, pens, and trinkets to make space. The drawer barely closed around it, and Elorie hesitated for a moment, her fingers resting on the worn surface of the desk. Still, she knew it was the right thing to do. With a quiet click, she turned the key in the lock, securing the grimoire inside. The sound echoed faintly in the stillness of the room, a small but reassuring barrier between her and the magic contained within those pages.

Exhaling, she stepped back and let her hand fall to her side. She was too tired to deal with any more magic tonight—or rather, this morning. With the drawer now locked, she felt a small sense of relief, as if she had closed a door on the chaos that had consumed her for the past few hours.Pushing the thought aside, Elorie turned toward her bed, dragging her feet as exhaustion pulled her down. She needed sleep, if only for a few hours. The nightmares could wait.

The waiting gnawed at her, but she kept herself busy—practicing spells from the grimoire Enzo had already given her, and sketching out potential designs for other enchanted items she could create.

The next night, as she was pouring over a particularly complex spell involving how to apply protective wards large scale, she heard it—a faint tap at her window. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she quickly closed the grimoire, rushing over to pull back the curtains.

There he was, Enzo, standing just outside her window with a small, weathered book in his hand. His expression was serious, his eyes dark with the weight of what he was about to hand over.

Without a word, Elorie unlatched the window and pushed it open, allowing him to slip inside. He moved with the fluid grace of a predator, but there was a weariness in his movements that hadn’t been there before.

“You’re back,” Elorie breathed, a mix of relief and apprehension flooding her senses.
Enzo gave her a tired smile, holding up the grimoire. “As promised, love. Emily Bennett’s grimoire, fresh from the grave.”

Elorie reached out, taking the book from his hands with a reverence she hadn’t expected. The leather was cracked and worn, the pages yellowed with age, but the power emanating from it was undeniable. She could feel it, humming beneath her fingertips, as if the spells within were alive, waiting to be unleashed.

“You actually did it,” she whispered, her eyes wide as she stared down at the book.

“I told you I would,” Enzo replied his tone light despite the exhaustion in his voice. “But I’d recommend you keep it hidden when not in use. The Bennett witches wouldn’t take kindly to us borrowing from their ancestor.”

Elorie nodded, her mind already racing with the possibilities. This was it—the key to everything she had been working toward. With this grimoire, she could craft a daylight ring for Enzo, protect the people she loved, and maybe even begin to rewrite the future she had glimpsed.

“Thank you, Enzo,” she said, meeting his gaze. “This means more to me than you know.”

He shrugged, though there was a softness in his eyes that belied the gesture. “You’ve already done more for me than I deserve. This is the least I could do.”

Elorie carefully set the grimoire on her desk, her fingers lingering on the cover for just a moment longer before she turned back to Enzo. “So, what’s next? How do we start?”

“First, you get some rest,” Enzo replied firmly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I haven’t,” Elorie admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “There’s just so much to do, and—”

“And you won’t be able to do any of it if you collapse from exhaustion,” Enzo cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll go through the grimoire together, but you need to be at your best. The spells in that book aren’t child’s play, love. They’re powerful, and they’ll take everything you’ve got.”

Elorie wanted to protest, but she knew he was right. She was running on fumes, her mind buzzing with too many thoughts to process. If she was going to dive into this new level of magic, she needed to be fully alert, and fully prepared.

“Alright,” she conceded, her voice soft. “I’ll rest. But tomorrow… tomorrow we start.”

Enzo nodded, satisfied. “Tomorrow, then. I’ll be here when you’re back from school.”

With that, he moved toward the window, preparing to slip out into the night once more. But before he could leave, Elorie called out to him, her voice stopping him in his tracks.

“Enzo?”

He turned back, his expression questioning.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice filled with a sincerity that caught him off guard. “I’m glad we’re in this together.”

For a moment, he simply looked at her, as if weighing her words. Then, he gave her a small, genuine smile—one that held a depth of emotion he rarely let show.

“So am I, little one. So am I.”

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the night like a shadow. Elorie watched the window for a moment longer, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. She turned back to the grimoire on her desk, running her fingers over the worn leather once more. Flipping through the pages, her eyes scanned the carefully written text, until she found what she was looking for:

daylight rings.

A grin spread across Elorie’s face as she read through the instructions for creating the rings. Daylight rings were incredibly valuable to vampires, allowing them to walk in the sun without fear of burning. If she could make and sell them online, she could make a killing, all while staying under the radar.

But there were risks involved. She couldn’t just start selling magical rings without arousing suspicion. The story had to be believable, something that wouldn’t draw too much attention to her or the rings. The last thing she wanted was to attract the gaze of the Anders family—or worse, other supernatural forces.

Elorie’s mind raced as she began to formulate a plan. The rings could be part of her father’s estate—an inheritance from a distant relative who dabbled in antique jewelry. He had died in a horrible boating accident, leaving her with a collection of rare and valuable items that were now hers to sell. The money from the sales would be a tidy sum, paid out to her until her eighteenth birthday, giving her the resources she needed without arousing suspicion.

But before she could move forward with the plan, she knew she’d have to talk to Jenna—Mom, she reminded herself with a smile. Jenna would need to be on board with the story, and they’d have to be careful about how they handled the sales. Drawing too much attention could be dangerous, but with the right approach, this could be exactly what Elorie needed to secure their future. Elorie closed the grimoire and leaned back in her chair, her mind buzzing with ideas and possibilities. For the first time since arriving in this world, she felt like she was truly taking control of her destiny. She had a plan, a way forward, and with each passing day, she was getting closer to becoming the person she needed to be to survive the trials ahead.

After a quick breakfast, Elorie found Jenna in the living room, sipping coffee and reading the morning paper. She hesitated for a moment, wondering how to broach the subject, but then reminded herself that she had to be proactive. This was the first step in shaping her future.

“Mom, can I talk to you about something?” Elorie asked, sitting down beside her on the couch.

Jenna looked up from the paper, a warm smile on her face. “Of course, Ellie. What’s on your mind?”

Elorie took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about… well, about how I can help out more around here. You know, contribute to the household.”

Jenna’s smile softened, and she reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from Elorie’s face. “Ellie, you don’t need to worry about that. You’re still in school, and I’m managing just fine. But I appreciate the thought.”

“I know,” Elorie said quickly. “But I want to do more. I feel like… like I need to start being more responsible, especially with everything that’s been going on. And I’ve been thinking about a way to do that.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? What kind of way?”

Elorie hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Remember how I mentioned that I had managed to get my hands on a grimore? Well, I was thinking… maybe I could start selling some of those items online. Nothing too big, just a few pieces of enchanted jewelry. It could bring in some extra money, and it would give me something to focus on, you know?”

Jenna’s expression shifted slightly, a mixture of surprise and concern. “Are you sure about this, Ellie? I don’t want you to feel like you have to take on more than you can handle.”

Elorie nodded, her confidence growing as she spoke. “I’m sure. There are a few pieces I can make that I think could sell really well. And I wouldn’t do it alone—I’d talk to you about everything, make sure we’re careful. But I think it could be a good way for me to start taking some responsibility.”

Jenna considered this for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “Well, if it’s something you really want to do, I suppose we could give it a try. But we’ll need to be careful about how we go about it. The last thing we want is to draw too much attention.”

Elorie’s heart leapt with relief and excitement. “Absolutely. We’ll be discreet, and I’ll handle everything. I just… I really want to help.”

Jenna smiled again, this time with a touch of pride. “You’re growing up, Ellie. I’m proud of you for wanting to take on this responsibility. But remember, you don’t have to do everything on your own. I’m here to help, too.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Elorie said, feeling a surge of warmth at the words. “I’ll start organizing the stuff today, and we can talk more about it later.”

The conversation had gone better than she had hoped, and now she had the green light to move forward with her plan. She headed back to her room, where the grimoire and the bronze dagger awaited her.

The grimoire’s pages crackled softly as she flipped through them, her eyes scanning the ancient text. She had read the instructions for creating daylight rings several times already, but she wanted to be absolutely sure she understood every step before she began. The process was intricate, requiring a mix of magical and mundane elements, as well as a strong focus to imbue the rings with the protective spell.

Elorie spent the rest of the morning gathering the materials she needed. She already had the grimoire and the dagger, both of which held enough magic to start her work. The other components—silver bands, gemstones, and various herbs—were items she could easily acquire from the local shops or online. As she made her list, she felt a thrill of anticipation building inside her. This was it—her first real step toward taking control of her life and her destiny.

By the afternoon, Elorie was ready to start her first attempt at crafting a daylight ring. She had set up a small workspace in her room at her desk. It was perfectly in line with the window which would let in more than enough sun for her work. The silver ring she had chosen was simple, unadorned, with a smooth band that would easily hold the magic. The gemstone—a small piece of lapis lazuli—sat beside it, waiting to be set into the ring.

Elorie took a deep breath, centering herself as she prepared to begin. She held the bronze dagger in one hand, feeling the pulse of ancient magic that radiated from it. With her other hand, she placed the silver ring in the center of the table, then picked up the lapis lazuli, her fingers trembling slightly with anticipation.

“Here goes nothing,” she murmured to herself, focusing her energy on the task at hand.

She began by reciting the spell from the grimoire, her voice low and steady as she channeled the magic through the dagger and into the ring. The room seemed to hum with energy, the air growing thick with power as the spell took shape. Elorie could feel the magic flowing through her, a warm, tingling sensation that spread from her fingertips to the very core of her being.

The gemstone in her hand began to glow faintly, a soft blue light that pulsed in Elorie’s hand, growing stronger as she focused her energy. The room seemed to hum with the power she was channeling, the atmosphere thick with an electric charge. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through her veins. This was real magic, ancient and potent, and she was wielding it. As she continued to recite the spell, the glow from the lapis lazuli intensified, filling the room with a soft blue light. The silver ring beneath it began to warm, as if pulling the essence of the sun outside and absorbing the energy she was pouring into it.

She could feel the magic binding to the metal, infusing the ring with the daylight protection spell. She focused harder, her voice steady and clear as she completed the incantation. With a final surge of power, Elorie pressed the lapis lazuli into the ring. The gemstone nestled perfectly into the silver band, and for a moment, the entire ring glowed with a brilliant light before dimming to a soft, steady shimmer. Elorie took a shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly as she set the dagger aside. She reached out and picked up the ring, marveling at the way it seemed to pulse with energy in her hand. She had done it—her first daylight ring, crafted with her own magic.

She reached out and picked it up, the metal cool against her skin. There was a subtle hum of magic within it, a reminder of the power she had channeled. Elorie couldn’t help but smile—a mix of relief and pride flooding through her. This was her first major accomplishment, and it felt like a victory.

But there was still work to be done. Enzo would need to test the ring, to ensure it worked as intended. And beyond that, there was the ever-present threat of the Augustine society, of the other dangers lurking in Mystic Falls. But for now, she allowed herself to savor the moment, to bask in the glow of her success.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, a familiar knock sounded at her window. Elorie’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly crossed the room to open it. Enzo stood outside, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of her.

“You’ve been busy, I see,” he remarked, his tone light but with an undercurrent of curiosity.

Elorie smiled, holding up the ring for him to see. “I’ve got something for you.”

Enzo’s eyes flickered with surprise and then softened as he stepped inside. He took the ring from her, turning it over in his hand, inspecting the craftsmanship. The room was quiet, the weight of the moment settling over them as he slid the ring onto his finger.

For a few tense seconds, neither of them spoke. Then, Enzo looked up, meeting her gaze with a smile that was equal parts relief and admiration.

“It’s perfect,” he said quietly. “You did it, El.”

Elorie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a grin spreading across her face. “I told you I could.”

Enzo chuckled, shaking his head. “And I never doubted you for a second.”

After crafting the daylight ring for Enzo, Elorie knew she’d have to keep her head down more than ever. She had become skilled at blending into the background, and that was just how she liked it. When she wasn’t watching Caroline practice, she spent her afternoons in the art club or tucked away in the library, reading comics with Jeremy. Nice and normal—that was what she needed. It gave her an illusion of calm in the midst of all the supernatural chaos swirling around her. Jeremy was a quiet comfort, his easygoing nature a balm to her frayed nerves. He never asked questions about the things he didn’t understand, and Elorie was grateful for that. Their time spent reading, sketching, and occasionally joking about the latest superhero plot twists felt like a break from the storm. It was one of the few parts of her life that still felt untouched by magic.

Elorie kept to her routine. School. Library. Home. She stayed away from the clinic, away from places that might remind anyone of the night Enzo had been freed. She tried to keep her thoughts from spiraling too much when news about the fire was mentioned. She focused instead on her studies, on keeping her magic in check.

But no matter how hard she tried to immerse herself in those normal moments, there was always a nagging reminder of what she couldn’t escape. The nightmares still crept into her sleep, less frequent but no less haunting. They were waiting, just at the edges of her consciousness, always ready to pull her back into that suffocating darkness if she let her guard down for too long. She couldn’t even call her mother anymore. Diana’s new number was restricted, making it impossible to reach her unless Diana decided to call first. It meant navigating all of this without guidance—without the safety net of her mother’s advice. That isolation weighed heavily on her, forcing her to rely more on the books and spells she had collected. But there were limits to what she could figure out on her own.

Every day felt like walking a tightrope between two worlds—the normal teenage life she pretended to have and the magical, dangerous one she was trying to control. She kept a far distance from Elena and Bonnie. The rift between them had grown impossibly wide, the once tentative connection shattered by mistrust and accusations. Bonnie’s sharp words and Elena’s coldness had left a bruise on Elorie’s heart, one that didn’t heal no matter how much time passed. They moved in different circles now, their paths no longer crossing at lunch or in the hallways. And yet, as much as she tried to avoid them, there was a part of Elorie that missed what little friendship they’d had. She missed the possibility of being close to them, of sharing things with people who understood at least some of what she was going through. But that door had been slammed shut, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever open again.

Chapter Text

Monthly dinners at the Gilberts had always been a little awkward, but now they were downright unbearable. Elena’s hostility had escalated, her cold stares and biting comments aimed at Elorie whenever she thought no one was watching. It was like walking into a battlefield every time they sat down for a meal together, and the tension was suffocating. Even Aunt Miranda, who had always been the calm, steady presence, seemed worn down by it all. Dark circles hung under her eyes, and her once warm, comforting smile had faded into something tired, almost resigned.

Elorie could feel the weight of her aunt's exhaustion pressing down on her during every dinner. The conversations were strained, forced, and there was a constant undercurrent of something unspoken between them all. Miranda would try to make small talk, Jeremy would awkwardly join in, but it was clear that things weren’t the same.

Uncle Grayson had become a near-ghost a these monthly. He seemed to spend all his time either at the hospital or out of town, immersed in work that kept him far from home. On the rare occasions Elorie did see him, he was distant, preoccupied, as though his mind was elsewhere. He barely acknowledged her presence, and when he did, it was with a curt nod or a mumbled hello before disappearing again.

The clinic was still closed. After the fire, it hadn’t reopened, and though no one had come out and blamed her directly, Elorie couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt. She knew that, in some way, her actions had set everything in motion. If she hadn’t helped Enzo, if she hadn’t been involved, maybe none of this would have happened. And now, because of that decision, the clinic was gone, and Aunt Miranda had lost something important to her. It was like a constant reminder of the danger she had brought into their lives.

Whenever she sat at the dinner table, poking at the food on her plate, Elorie kept her head down, trying to make herself as invisible as possible. The tension between her and Elena had grown to the point where they barely spoke. Elena made it clear that she didn’t want her there, and honestly, Elorie wasn’t sure she wanted to be there either.

In contrast to the chaotic energy that surrounded the Gilbert household, Elorie had found her own quiet way to contribute. Over the past few months, she’d been steadily selling daylight jewelry and protection charms online, using her growing magical abilities to craft pieces that catered to a very niche market. She kept her head down, ensuring that nothing about her work drew too much attention to Mystic Falls, and the extra income provided her with a sense of independence.

But the real purpose behind her efforts wasn’t just about money.  When Elorie hadn't been quietly funneling the earnings to help Jenna finish her master's program she had been saving the rest. Jenna had always supported her, both emotionally and financially, and Elorie saw this as a way to return the favor. It wasn’t much, but it made a difference. It also helped distract Jenna from the mounting pressures of their strange and increasingly dangerous lives.

Their plan had been simple. Once Jenna was done with school and had settled into her career, they’d wait a little while before making a bigger move—literally. The idea of moving out of Mystic Falls, or at least to a more remote house on the outskirts of town, had been their whispered dream for months now. A bigger house would give Elorie the space she desperately needed, not just for herself but for her magic as well. She could set up a proper spell room, free from prying eyes and distractions, where she could grow her abilities without fear of being discovered.

The nightmares had also been dimmed thanks to Diana's spell. She had woven the protective incantation into a dreamcatcher, its delicate strands hanging over her bed, softly swaying with each passing breeze. The nightmares didn’t haunt her quite as viciously anymore, at least not every night. They lingered at the edges of her mind, like dark shadows that threatened to creep in but were kept at bay by the spell’s quiet power.

She had crafted the dreamcatcher with care, following Diana’s instructions word for word, her fingers moving with precision as she worked the magic into the delicate web of string. Each knot had felt like a small victory, a way to take control of the one thing that had seemed uncontrollable: her mind. Now, whenever the nightmares tried to claw their way back in, the dreamcatcher hummed with the faintest pulse of magic, calming her restless thoughts and keeping the darkness at bay. It wasn’t perfect—some nights, the nightmares still slipped through, and when they did, they were as vivid and terrifying as ever. But it was better than before. And for that, she was grateful.

Except, Diana didn’t call her back. And the silence was deafening, a heavy reminder of the distance between them, both literal and emotional. Elorie had gotten used to her mother’s sporadic contact over the years, but something about this felt different. It wasn’t just neglect—it was a deliberate shutting out. Her mother’s yearly birthday gift still arrived, of course. A simple, ornate bracelet made of enchanted silver, wrapped in a plain box with no note, no personal touch. It felt hollow, like a reminder of what could have been. Elorie sat on her bed that evening, staring at the gift with a mixture of frustration and sadness.

She had tried emailing her mother multiple times over the past few months—updates about the spells she was learning, the weird things happening around town, and even the occasional plea for guidance. But every message was met with silence, as if she was sending them into a void. The lack of response left her feeling raw. Her frustration simmered beneath the surface, mixing with the anger she had worked so hard to push down. It wasn’t just about the spells or the danger anymore. It was about the fact that Diana didn’t seem to care. That she wasn’t there when Elorie needed her the most.

"Why do you even bother?" she muttered to herself, tossing the bracelet onto her desk, where it clinked softly against the wood.

Elorie felt the frustration build, her hands clenching into fists. All the questions she had—about her powers, about her father, about everything—kept swirling in her mind. And Diana? Diana had chosen to disappear, leaving her daughter to fend for herself in a world she barely understood.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was.

The emails had gone unanswered for months. Not a single word from her mother since that rushed call earlier in the year. And now, the only sign Diana was still alive was this—this stupid bracelet. No note, no explanation. Just another token in a long line of impersonal gifts, meant to pacify her. It wasn’t enough anymore. Elorie gritted her teeth and threw the bracelet into her desk drawer. It clattered against the wood, the sound harsh in the quiet room.

“I don’t need this,” she muttered under her breath, staring at the grimoire on her desk, the one she had been using to teach herself magic. Without Diana.

The frustration burned inside her, a slow, simmering anger that had been building since the last time she’d heard her mother’s voice. She had tried—tried to reach out, tried to connect. But Diana? She had disappeared, just like always, leaving Elorie to fend for herself. She was used to the silence, but this time felt different. This time, it stung.

"Why do you keep doing this?" she whispered to the empty room, her voice thick with hurt. "Why do you keep shutting me out?"

The only response was the quiet hum of the bracelet’s magic from inside the drawer, as if mocking her. Elorie leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair as she tried to calm the rising tide of emotions inside her.

Jenna’s voice floated up the stairs. “Ellie, you okay?”

Elorie closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she called back, though the words felt like a lie.

Fine. That’s what she kept telling herself. She was fine. Handling everything on her own, without any help from the woman who was supposed to guide her. But the truth was, she wasn’t fine. She was tired—tired of pretending she didn’t care.

The door creaked open, and Jenna stepped into the room. “You don’t sound fine,” she said softly, her eyes flicking to the closed drawer where the bracelet now sat.

Elorie gave a weak smile. “It’s just… her,” she admitted, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “I keep trying, but she just—she doesn’t respond. And then this shows up, and it’s like she’s reminding me that she’s still out there, but she won’t—she won’t talk to me.”

Jenna walked over and sat beside her, her presence comforting in its familiarity. “I know it’s hard,” she said gently. “But Diana’s always been… complicated.”

Elorie let out a bitter laugh. “That’s putting it lightly.”

Jenna smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “She thinks she’s protecting you by staying away. But she’s not doing a great job of it, is she?”

Elorie shook her head, the anger bubbling up again. “She’s not doing anything! She just… sends these gifts and disappears. And I’m stuck here, trying to figure out everything on my own.”

Jenna sighed, wrapping an arm around Elorie’s shoulders. “You’re not on your own, Ellie. You have me. And Caroline. And—” She hesitated, her tone softening. “Enzo.”

At the mention of his name, Elorie tensed. “Enzo’s been… helpful. But he’s not exactly the best influence, you know? He’s got his own problems to deal with, and I don’t want to add to them.”

Jenna nodded slowly. “You’re right. He’s not perfect. But he cares about you. And maybe that’s enough.”

Elorie leaned into Jenna’s embrace, her heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. She wanted to scream, to shout at the universe for putting her in this position—for making her rely on a vampire and an aunt who was just trying to finish grad school while her own mother ignored her.

But all she could manage was a quiet, frustrated whisper. “I just wish she cared enough to stay.”

Jenna squeezed her shoulder. “She does care, Ellie. In her own way. But you deserve more than what she’s giving you. And that’s on her, not you.”

Elorie didn’t respond. She knew Jenna was right, but it didn’t make the ache in her chest any less painful. The truth was, Diana’s absence felt like a wound that never quite healed, always lurking beneath the surface, ready to reopen at the slightest touch.

After a long moment, Elorie pulled away from Jenna and wiped at her eyes. “I’m just… I’m done waiting for her to show up,” she said, her voice steadier now. “If she doesn’t want to be part of my life, then that’s her choice. But I’m not going to let it hold me back.”

Jenna smiled softly, pride shining in her eyes. “That’s the Elorie I know.”

Elorie managed a small smile in return. “Yeah. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Jenna stood and ruffled her hair playfully. “You’ve got this, kiddo. And if you ever need to vent, I’m right downstairs.”

“Thanks, Jenna.”

As Jenna left the room, Elorie turned back to the grimoire on her desk. The frustration still simmered beneath the surface, but there was also a sense of resolve. She was done waiting for her mother to save her. She would save herself.

With a deep breath, Elorie opened the grimoire, her fingers tracing the familiar words on the page. It was time to get to work. Time to move forward—without Diana, if necessary.

And if her mother didn’t want to be a part of her life?

Well, that was her loss.

Once Enzo had gotten himself settled overseas, Elorie was surprised to receive a text from him. She unlocked her phone and found a video attachment waiting for her. Curiosity piqued, she tapped on it.

The screen filled with Enzo's face, his usual smirk firmly in place. Behind him, the sun was setting over a sprawling European cityscape, casting everything in a warm, golden light.

"Ellie," his voice came through smoothly. "Thought you might enjoy a little glimpse of Europe. Figured I'd keep you updated on my 'adventures.'"

The camera panned around, revealing the narrow, cobblestone streets of some picturesque city—she couldn't quite tell if it was Italy or Spain, but it was undeniably beautiful. Enzo narrated casually as he wandered down the street, pointing out old buildings, charming cafes, and a bustling market. His tone was light, and for once, he seemed genuinely relaxed.

Elorie smiled, watching the video in fascination. For someone who had been trapped in Mystic Falls—and far worse before that—seeing him roam freely in Europe felt almost surreal.

A second video came through a few days later, this time of Enzo at a café somewhere along the French coast. He was holding a glass of wine, his expression amused as he offered her a mock toast through the screen.

"Cheers to sunshine and freedom," he said with a wink. "I owe you one, love."

The videos continued over the next few weeks, sometimes of Enzo hiking through the lush countryside or wandering through a bustling city square. Other times, he’d send brief clips of some scenic spot—a view from a mountain or a quiet lake at dusk. Each video came with a sarcastic comment or a story about where he was and what he had discovered.

Elorie found herself eagerly awaiting the next message, her heart lifting every time her phone chimed with a new video or text from him. It felt strange, like some part of him was still in Mystic Falls, staying connected to her despite the physical distance.

One day, she sent him a short reply: "Europe looks amazing! Hope you're staying out of trouble."

A minute later, her phone buzzed with his response: "Trouble finds me, love. But don’t worry, I’m still in one piece. For now."

The easy banter between them made her smile, a reminder of the strange friendship they had formed in such a short time. The gifts from him continued, as well. Each time, they arrived without fanfare—a simple box or small package left for her to find on her bed or waiting for her when she got home from school. Sometimes it was a piece of jewelry, other times a strange, magical trinket that hummed with energy.

Elorie would sit in her room, turning the items over in her hands, marveling at their intricacy and wondering how on earth he managed to come across them during his travels. Once, she found a beautifully ornate bracelet crafted from silver and inlaid with tiny stones that shimmered in the light. Along with it was a small note in his familiar scrawl: "Thought you’d like this. Perfect for protection spells. –Enzo."

Other times, the gifts were more personal—a selection of teas from a small shop in London, a delicate scarf from Italy, or a box of chocolates with a teasing note: "Try not to eat these all at once, love."

There were even treats for Jenna—a bottle of wine from France, a hand-painted ceramic mug from Spain, or a simple but elegant necklace that he had somehow known would be just her style. Elorie always found herself smiling when she handed them over, Jenna raising an eyebrow but accepting the gifts with good-natured amusement.

“Your vampire friend has good taste,” Jenna would say, examining the items. “Though he’s a bit mysterious, don’t you think?”

Elorie would just shrug, feeling a warmth in her chest that she couldn’t quite explain. The gifts were more than just things—they were Enzo’s way of staying connected, of showing he hadn’t forgotten her. Despite the distance, despite the danger that still lurked in the shadows, he was still looking out for her.

It was comforting, in a way that Elorie hadn’t expected. Even though she knew Enzo wasn’t the type to settle down, she appreciated his continued presence in her life—through texts, videos, and gifts.

The school year ended without much fanfare, and for once, Elorie felt a sense of calm. The usual end-of-year excitement was subdued, but she was grateful for the lack of chaos. So when Caroline asked her to join her at cheerleading camp, Elorie surprised herself by agreeing to go.

"Wait, seriously?" Caroline's eyes widened with delight when Elorie told her. "You're actually coming?"

Elorie smiled softly. "Yeah, why not? It might be fun to get away for a bit."

Caroline threw her arms around her in an enthusiastic hug. "This is going to be amazing! You won't regret it, I promise."

Preparations for camp began immediately. Caroline helped Elorie pick out suitable outfits, insisting on the importance of proper cheer attire. Jenna was thrilled to see Elorie embracing something normal for a change.

"I'm glad you're doing this," Jenna said one evening as she helped Elorie pack. "You deserve some time to just be a teenager."

Elorie nodded, folding a shirt neatly into her suitcase. "I think it'll be good for me."

When the day arrived, Elorie and Caroline boarded the bus with the rest of the cheer squad. The air was filled with excited chatter and laughter. Elorie felt a mix of nerves and anticipation—this was a step into a world she didn't usually inhabit.

The camp was nestled by a serene lake, surrounded by tall trees that rustled softly in the summer breeze. Cabins were scattered around the main lodge, and the distant sound of music hinted at the activities ahead.

"Welcome to cheer camp!" Caroline exclaimed, gesturing grandly as they stepped off the bus.

Elorie took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air. "It's beautiful here."

Caroline linked arms with her. "Come on, let's get settled in. We've got so much to do!"

Over the next few days, Elorie immersed herself in camp life. The routines were challenging, but she found herself enjoying the physical activity. The other girls were welcoming, and Caroline stayed by her side, offering tips and encouragement.

One afternoon, after a particularly intense practice, they sat by the lake cooling off.

"I have to admit," Elorie said between sips of water, "this is more fun than I expected."

Caroline grinned. "Told you! There's more to cheerleading than just pom-poms and chants."

Elorie laughed. "I can see that now."

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, Caroline turned to her with a more serious expression. "How are you really doing, El?"

Elorie looked out over the shimmering water. "Honestly? Better. It's nice to focus on something else for a change."

Caroline nodded thoughtfully. "I was worried about you. You've seemed... distant lately."

Elorie hesitated, then decided to open up a little. "It's just been a lot—school, family stuff. I guess I needed a break."

"Well, I'm glad you're here," Caroline said sincerely. "And you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

A warm smile spread across Elorie's face. "I know. Thanks, Care."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of nature enveloping them.

"Hey," Caroline said suddenly, her eyes lighting up. "There's a campfire tonight. They're telling ghost stories. You in?"

Elorie chuckled. "Ghost stories at cheer camp? Sounds cliché."

"Maybe, but it's tradition. And besides, you might have a few good stories yourself," Caroline teased.

Elorie raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Alright, I'm in."

That night, the campers gathered around a roaring fire. Laughter and whispers filled the air as stories were shared. Elorie found herself relaxing, the usual weight on her shoulders feeling lighter. When it was her turn, she spun a tale she'd read from one of her books—carefully omitting any real magic, of course.

As she spoke, she caught Caroline watching her with a fond expression. It felt good to connect, to be part of something ordinary and yet special.

Later, as they walked back to their cabin under a sky full of stars, Caroline bumped her shoulder gently against Elorie's. "See? This isn't so bad."

Elorie smiled up at the sky. "No, it's not. I think I needed this more than I realized."

"Well, anytime you want to step out of your comfort zone, you know who to call."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The rest of the camp passed in a blur of activities—team-building exercises, more practices, and even a talent show where Elorie surprised everyone by showcasing her drawing skills.

On the last day, as they packed up to leave, Caroline hugged her tightly. "I'm really glad you came."

"Me too," Elorie admitted. "Thanks for convincing me."

"Anytime. And remember, summer's just starting. Plenty of time for more adventures."

As the bus pulled away from the campgrounds, Elorie gazed out the window, a contented feeling settling in her chest. For the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful about what lay ahead.

Returning to Mystic Falls, she knew there were still challenges to face—secrets to keep, and mysteries to unravel. But for now, she was grateful for the respite, and for the friend who had helped her find a bit of normalcy amidst the chaos.

"Ready to take on the world?" Caroline asked, nudging her playfully.

Elorie grinned. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"That's the spirit!"

Cheer camp had been more interesting than Elorie expected. The long days were filled with exhausting routines, team-building exercises, and the relentless summer heat, but the nights—well, the nights were something else entirely.

Most of the girls liked sneaking out after lights-out to meet the guys from the adjoining football camp, giggling as they slipped into the shadows to “kanoodle” in the dark. It was a game for most of them, something exciting and rebellious. Caroline, naturally, was in the center of it all, encouraging everyone to join in the fun.

She kept nudging Elorie about her growing friendship with Tyler Lockwood, dropping hints and raising eyebrows whenever the two of them were together.

“You know, Tyler’s not that bad,” Caroline whispered one evening as they sat on the edge of their bunks, the faint sound of muffled laughter coming from outside the cabin. “He’s actually kind of sweet once you get past the whole ‘I’m-a-jock-and-too-cool-for-anything’ vibe.”

Elorie rolled her eyes, trying to act casual about it. “I know, Care. We’re just friends.”

Caroline raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And that’s why he’s been spending every break hanging around you, instead of throwing the football with the other guys? Come on, Ellie, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Elorie bit back a smile. She couldn’t deny that Tyler had been paying her a lot of attention lately, and she enjoyed his company more than she expected. He was different when it was just the two of them, more relaxed, more… real. But still, there was a part of her that felt hesitant. Tyler was a popular guy, and his world wasn’t exactly her world.

“Look,” Caroline continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m just saying, if you want to sneak out tonight, no one’s going to stop you.”

Elorie shook her head, trying to suppress a laugh. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

Caroline grinned. “It’s part of my charm.”

A part of Elorie was tempted, though. She’d seen the other girls disappear into the night, whispering and laughing, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like—what it would feel like to do something so carefree, to let herself get lost in the fun for once. She was so used to carrying the weight of her magic, the secrets, and the dangers that came with it. Maybe sneaking out with Tyler, even just for a little while, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

As if reading her thoughts, Caroline nudged her again. “Come on, Ellie. You deserve a little fun. And Tyler’s not the worst person to have fun with.”

Elorie sighed, glancing out the window where the moon hung low in the sky. The idea of sneaking out, of feeling normal for a change, was tempting. “Alright, fine,” she muttered, a small smile creeping onto her face. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

Caroline’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Deal.”

That’s how Elorie had her first kiss—in the dark woods, with Tyler Lockwood. Nervous, maybe a little sweaty, her heart pounding in her chest as they stood under the trees, away from the noise and excitement of the camp.

Tyler had been surprisingly sweet, his usual bravado stripped away in the quiet of the night. They had been talking, laughing softly at some silly inside joke, when the moment just… happened. He leaned in, and Elorie, not wanting to ruin the moment, had followed suit. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss—awkward for them both.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. Far from it, actually. It was clumsy and a little too fast, with Tyler’s nose bumping against hers and Elorie’s nerves making her stiff. But still, it was something—a moment that felt new, even though it wasn’t the magical, life-changing kiss people always talked about.

After pulling back, they stared at each other for a moment, both a little wide-eyed, and then Tyler broke the silence with a nervous laugh.

“Well, uh… that was…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, clearly as unsure about what to say as Elorie was.

“Yeah,” Elorie agreed, feeling her own cheeks flush. “I mean, it wasn’t bad, but…”

Tyler nodded, his eyes softening as he smiled. “Maybe we’re better off as friends?”

Elorie smiled back, relieved that they were on the same page. “Yeah, I think so.”

And that was that. No big drama, no hurt feelings. They had tried, and it wasn’t right, but the simplicity of it made her feel comfortable. They spent the rest of the night talking, sitting under the stars.

The rest of the summer passed without incident, a stretch of time that felt almost too good to be true after everything that had happened earlier in the year. Once back in Mystic Falls, Elorie and Caroline fell into the rhythm of their normal summer activities—movie nights, swimming at the lake with Tyler, Matt, and Jeremy, and checking out the local amusement park whenever they had the chance.

The days blurred together in a mix of sunshine and laughter, the tension of school and secrets fading into the background. Caroline, always the planner, had their schedules packed with things to do, dragging Elorie out of her usual routine and into spontaneous adventures.

They spent lazy afternoons at the lake, the water cool against the summer heat. Tyler and Matt would dive off the rocks, showing off, while Caroline and Elorie lounged on the shore, soaking in the sun and sharing stories. Jeremy tagged along, quieter than the others but always ready with a joke that would have everyone laughing by the end of the day.

Nights were spent at the Mystic Grill, the familiar setting of the restaurant providing a sense of stability. They’d order their usual meals, talk about everything and nothing, and sometimes shoot pool in the back with Matt’s guidance. The amusement park trips were chaotic and loud, filled with the sound of rides and screaming teenagers, but there was something peaceful in the normalcy of it all.

No dreams haunted her nights, no spells needed casting, and for a few blissful weeks, she was just a regular girl, surrounded by friends who had no idea what she was really capable of.

The tickets had arrived unexpectedly, a sleek envelope in the mail addressed to Jenna and Elorie. When they tore it open and saw Enzo’s familiar, elegant handwriting, Elorie had burst out laughing. The invitation was as bold and brash as the man himself. Plane tickets to England, his childhood home.

"It’s about time I got to know Jenna," Enzo had written. "Especially if I’m going to be apart of the family. Can’t have you both running around Mystic Falls without a bit of family looking out for you, now can we?"

Elorie had rolled her eyes, still laughing as she passed the note to Jenna. Jenna had surprised her by smiling warmly. "He has a point, you know. And… maybe it’s time I got to know him too. After everything that’s happened, I need to understand this world better. If Enzo’s going to be a part of our lives, I should get to know who he really is."

And just like that, they were packing for England.

The manor was sprawling, tucked away in the English countryside. A place that, in its prime, had seen grandeur and wealth, but now held a quiet, almost melancholic beauty. The stone walls were weathered, ivy creeping up its sides, and the rolling green hills surrounding it stretched on for miles. It was the kind of place that seemed timeless, suspended between past and present.

When they arrived, Enzo greeted them at the front with that easy grin, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Welcome to St. John Manor,” he said with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “Home sweet home.”

Jenna had chuckled, already charmed. “It’s beautiful, Enzo.”

Elorie looked around, taking in the landscape—the wildflowers swaying in the breeze, the distant treeline. She felt like she had stepped into another world.

They spent the next two weeks exploring the countryside, with Enzo leading them to hidden spots that only a local—or someone who had lived centuries—would know. They visited the small farmer’s market in town, where Enzo, much to Elorie’s amusement, charmed every vendor they met. Jenna had even found herself caught up in the warmth of the local life, chatting with the vendors, while Elorie wandered among the stalls, marveling at the fresh produce and handcrafted goods.

One afternoon, as they explored a meadow near the manor, Elorie found herself walking a few paces behind Enzo and Jenna. They were talking quietly, Jenna asking Enzo questions about his life—his real life, not just the part he’d shown on the surface. Enzo was unusually serious, explaining bits of his past, the weight of his words heavy but honest.

Elorie couldn’t hear all of it, but she saw the way Jenna was nodding, taking it all in. There was an unspoken understanding growing between them, and that eased something inside Elorie that she hadn’t realized was tense. It was one thing for Enzo to be a part of her life; it was another for him to be part of their life—for Jenna to accept him, to trust him.

Later that evening, as the sun began to set, casting a golden light over the countryside, they sat together on the terrace outside the manor. Jenna had poured herself a glass of wine, while Enzo sipped something darker—something Elorie knew was blood, though he disguised it well in a tumbler. She sat between them, feeling the warmth of the setting sun on her skin, listening to their conversation flow easily.

"You know, I wasn’t sure about you at first," Jenna admitted, her voice soft but candid as she looked at Enzo. "But seeing how much you care about Elorie… it’s hard to ignore. You’ve been good to her."

Enzo smiled, a rare moment of genuine emotion crossing his features. "She’s special, Jenna. I didn’t expect to care about anyone after… everything. But she’s got this way of pulling you in, doesn’t she?"

Elorie blushed, ducking her head. "I’m sitting right here, you know."

Enzo chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made the tension of the past few months feel distant. "Can’t a big brother brag a little about his sister?"

The words hung in the air, light but significant. Elorie had never really had siblings, and hearing him call her sister—even jokingly—made something in her heart swell. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this connection, how much she needed someone like Enzo in her life, especially with Diana so distant and her world so chaotic.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of shared meals, long walks, and quiet conversations. Enzo wasn’t just showing them his home; he was showing them a piece of himself. And Jenna, in turn, was letting him in. The walls she had built, the ones meant to protect both her and Elorie from the dangers of the supernatural world, were slowly coming down—at least where Enzo was concerned.

On their last night in England, they gathered around the large fireplace in the manor’s living room. The crackling of the fire filled the silence between them, the warmth of the flames casting flickering shadows on the walls.

“I’ll admit,” Jenna began, looking over at Enzo, “I didn’t know what to expect when we came here. But… I’m glad we did. I don’t have the means to protect Elorie from everything out there, and it’s been hard accepting that. But I trust you, Enzo. And that makes it easier.”

Enzo, sitting across from them, looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “I’ll always have her back, Jenna. You don’t have to worry about that.”

During their time in England, Elorie found herself increasingly curious about Enzo’s knowledge of the supernatural world. It wasn’t something he openly discussed, but there were moments—small, offhand comments or knowing glances—that made her realize how deep his understanding ran. His insights into magic, witches, and their practices seemed far too informed for someone who wasn’t a practitioner himself.

It was late evening, and the sky outside Whitmore Manor was painted in deep shades of indigo. Jenna was out exploring the nearby village market for fresh vegetables for a new recipe she wanted to try. The quiet countryside stretched out for miles, the stillness only occasionally broken by the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Inside, the old manor had a warmth to it, the low hum of the fireplace crackling in the background as Enzo and Elorie sat in the study. Elorie was flipping through a grimoire, her concentration broken only by the occasional glance at Enzo, who sat across from her with a glass of whiskey in hand reading his own book.

Elorie watched Enzo for a moment, curiosity sparking in her mind. The way he talked about the supernatural world, the ease with which he seemed to navigate it—it was clear that Enzo knew more than he let on.

"Enzo," she began cautiously, "you seem to know a lot about witches. More than most vampires, anyway. How do you know all this? Is it just because you’ve lived so long, or…?"

Enzo raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her curiosity. "Living a few centuries does give one a certain... perspective," he said with a smirk. "But it's more than just that. I've had my fair share of run-ins with witches. They tend to be involved in all the interesting parts of the supernatural world."

Elorie leaned forward, intrigued. "Like what? I mean, I’m still learning about all of this, but it feels like you’ve got a deeper understanding of witchcraft than most vampires I’ve heard of."

Enzo chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Well, witches and vampires have always had a… complicated relationship. Most witches don’t trust vampires, and for good reason. But over the years, you learn things. You listen, you watch, and sometimes, you make alliances."

"Alliances?" Elorie’s eyes widened. "With witches?"

He nodded. "There are witches out there who don't follow the typical rules. Not every witch cares about the 'Balance of Nature' nonsense. Some are willing to work with vampires, provided the price is right. And I’ve had to rely on more than a few witches to get myself out of some sticky situations."

"Like what?" Elorie asked, her curiosity piqued.

Enzo hesitated for a moment, as if deciding how much to share. "Let’s just say… when you've been around as long as I have, you pick up certain skills. I’ve learned enough about spells and rituals to get by. Sometimes you need a witch to open a door, to hide you from a particular enemy." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Other times, it’s about survival. You can’t always be the strongest in the room, so you find someone who can even the playing field."

Elorie absorbed his words, her mind buzzing with the possibilities. She had always assumed witches kept their magic hidden, away from vampires and other creatures. But Enzo was suggesting something else—something darker.

"Is that how you survived Augustine for so long?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.

Enzo’s gaze darkened at the mention of Augustine, his jaw tightening slightly. "Partly. The Witmores were ruthless, but they weren't infallible.

Elorie’s breath caught at the gravity of his words. "And now? Do you still have witches that would help you?"

He paused, his gaze drifting to the horizon, as if he were remembering distant memories. "Back in the 1800s, I crossed paths with a coven in Italy. I had… dealings with them. At the time, I was still learning to navigate this new existence. The coven was small, but powerful. They practiced old magic, rooted in the earth and the elements. I doubt many of them are still alive…”

Elorie leaned forward, fascinated. "What kind of dealings?"

"Let’s just say they had something I needed. Information, mostly—about my condition, about magic. In return, I offered them protection from others who would harm them. It was… enlightening.” Enzo’s tone grew more serious, his eyes flickering with a memory that seemed both fond and painful. "Their power is tied to the laws of nature, but they’re still human. Capable of love and hate, like the rest of us."

Elorie absorbed his words, thinking back to everything she had learned from her mother’s grimoires. "It’s weird to think about magic being so connected to nature, and then to see how easily people can twist it for their own purposes."

"That’s the thing," Enzo said, turning to her, his eyes dark and intense. "Magic, like anything else, is a tool. It doesn’t have morals. The person wielding it does. That’s why witches are so dangerous. They’re not bound by the same rules we are. They can shift the balance, tip it in their favor, and once that happens… things get messy."

There was a certain calmness to his words, a reflective mood that Elorie couldn’t quite place. She could feel that he was in the middle of a memory, one that weighed heavily on him.

“What were you like before… all this?” Elorie asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Enzo chuckled softly, his gaze distant as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Before all this, you mean before I was a vampire?” he asked, raising an eyebrow with a faint smirk. “That’s a long story, love.”

Elorie leaned back in her chair, closing the grimoire and setting it aside. “I’ve got time. You’ve always been the one asking about me and my powers. I want to know about you.”

He considered her for a moment, then sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I wasn’t always the dashing immortal you see before you.” His tone was playful, but the underlying sadness was unmistakable. “I was human once, living a perfectly ordinary life—or as ordinary as it could be for the time.”

Elorie smiled, curious. “Where were you? What were you doing before everything changed?”

Enzo paused, taking a slow sip of his drink before answering. “It was 1903, Southampton. I’d just come back from Eastern Europe, where I’d been stationed during the Great War. After that, I tried to make my way to New York, like many others, hoping for a fresh start.” He shrugged, a distant look in his eyes. “But life had different plans.”

“What happened?” Elorie asked, her voice soft.

“I was denied passage aboard the ship.” He laughed bitterly, but there was no humor in it. “I had consumption—tuberculosis—and no one wanted a dying man aboard their vessel, let alone traveling to the New World.”

Elorie frowned, the weight of his words sinking in. “But you made it to New York eventually, didn’t you?”

Enzo nodded, a small, fond smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, but not without a little help. There was a woman... beautiful, strong, unlike anyone I’d ever met. She saw me struggling, on the verge of losing hope, and she helped me get aboard the ship. Said I deserved a chance to see the world beyond the sickness that was consuming me.”

Elorie raised an eyebrow, catching the faint hint of reverence in his tone. “She sounds important.”

Enzo hesitated, then nodded, his smile fading into something more bittersweet. “She was. She gave me another chance at life when no one else would. I didn’t realize at the time that she was offering me a far longer life than I ever expected.”

Elorie’s eyes widened slightly. “She turned you.”

Enzo looked down at his glass, swirling the liquid again as though gathering his thoughts. “Yes. She gave me her blood, enough to keep me alive until we could find a doctor on the ship. I didn’t know she was a vampire then. I thought she was just a kind stranger, a good Samaritan looking out for a sick man.” He paused, his voice growing softer. “It wasn’t until I died of consumption, just before we docked in New York, that I realized what she’d done.”

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat. “How did you… I mean, when you woke up—”

“When I woke up,” Enzo interrupted, his voice carrying a note of nostalgia, “I was reborn. The pain was gone, the sickness that had been choking the life out of me for years was simply… gone. But with that came the hunger. The bloodlust.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. “It’s not something you ever forget, Ellie. That first taste of blood. It’s all-consuming, overpowering, and terrifying.”

"So, what happened to her?" Elorie asked gently. "The woman who turned you?"

Enzo's gaze lingered on the fire, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn't answer right away, as if weighing his words carefully before speaking. When he finally did, his voice was softer, more distant.

"When I woke up," he began slowly, "she was gone."

Elorie frowned. "Gone? Like… she left?"

Enzo shook his head, his expression darkening. "I don't know. One moment she was there, helping me through the transformation, making sure I knew how to handle the hunger. The next… nothing. I woke up on that ship, alone. No sign of her. No note. No explanation."

Elorie's chest tightened with sympathy. "You don't know what happened to her?"

Enzo took a sip of his whiskey, the glass catching the light as he set it back down on the table. His gaze was fixed on the flames, as if they held answers to questions he’d been asking for over a century. "Not a clue. I searched for her for years after I made it to New York. I looked everywhere—tried to find any trace of her. But it was like she vanished off the face of the Earth. No one knew her name, where she came from… nothing."

Elorie felt a pang of sadness for him. "That must’ve been hard. To go through all of that and then just… be abandoned."

Enzo's lips twisted into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "It was. I don’t know why she left. Maybe she thought I’d be better off without her, or maybe she had her own reasons for disappearing. Either way, I had to figure out how to survive on my own."

Elorie leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Do you think she’s still out there somewhere? That maybe one day you’ll find her?"

Enzo’s gaze flickered toward her, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "I used to think so. Used to hope for it, even. But after a while, I realized that some things are better left in the past. Whoever she was… whatever her reasons for turning me… it’s a chapter of my life that’s closed now."

Elorie nodded slowly, understanding the weight of his words. It wasn’t just about losing the woman who had saved him—it was about letting go of the hope of ever finding her again. The uncertainty of it all.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice soft but genuine.

Enzo looked at her for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then, he gave her a small, appreciative smile. "Don't be, love. It's just how life works sometimes. You lose people, you move on. But I’ve made peace with it. Doesn’t mean I don’t think about her from time to time, though."

Chapter Text

As soon as Elorie returned to Mystic Falls from her trip to Europe, she made a beeline for the Forbes residence. Jenna had been more than understanding, giving her the space to go check on her best friend without question. Elorie knew that Caroline needed her, especially after the summer they’d had.

When she knocked on the door, it wasn’t long before Sheriff Forbes answered, offering Elorie a tired but warm smile. "She’s upstairs," was all the sheriff said, nodding her toward the familiar staircase.

Elorie climbed the stairs quietly, the weight of the past few months settling on her shoulders as she made her way to Caroline’s room. She found her best friend exactly where she had expected—wrapped up in oversized pajamas, lying on her bed, looking utterly dejected. The TV flickered in the background, but it didn’t seem like Caroline was paying attention to it. A box of tissues sat nearby, along with what looked like the remnants of some comfort food.

“Hey, Care,” Elorie said softly, leaning against the doorframe.

Caroline’s head snapped up, her eyes widening with a mix of surprise and relief. "Ellie!" she exclaimed, scrambling to sit up. Her face lit up briefly, but there was no mistaking the sadness lingering in her eyes.

Elorie walked over to the bed and sat down next to her, taking in the full picture. Caroline looked a little pale, her usual sparkle dulled by whatever had been weighing her down.

“You look... like you’ve been through it,” Elorie said gently, trying to coax a smile from her.

Caroline gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, it’s been... a summer,” she replied, her voice soft and a little hoarse. She glanced down at her pajama-clad self, shaking her head. “I’m officially a mess. But you’re back! Tell me everything about Europe. Distract me.”

Elorie smiled but didn’t jump into a story just yet. “I will, but first—what’s going on? You seem... off. And I know something’s up when you’re still in your PJs this late in the day.”

Caroline hesitated, picking at the blanket. “It’s just... everything. My parents finalized their divorce while you were gone, and it hit me harder than I thought it would. I mean, I knew it was coming, but now it’s real. And then my dad left town, like actually left town, and I feel... abandoned. I guess I just needed time to mope.”

Elorie’s heart sank. She knew Caroline had been putting on a brave face for months, but this was the raw truth, laid bare in front of her. She reached out and took Caroline’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I’m so sorry, Care. I wish I could have been here for you.”

Caroline shook her head quickly. “No, you needed that trip. You needed to see the world outside of this crazy town. And I’m glad you went. I just... didn’t expect to feel this lost.”

Elorie nodded, understanding all too well. “It’s okay to feel that way. You’ve been dealing with so much, and it’s hard when it all hits at once. But you’re not alone. I’m here now, and we’ll get through this together.”

Caroline sniffed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, but she managed a small smile. “Thanks, Ellie. I really needed to hear that.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Caroline’s words settling between them. Elorie knew this was just the beginning of a long conversation, but for now, just being there for her best friend felt like enough.

“I did bring back some cool stories, though,” Elorie finally said, breaking the silence with a lighter tone. “And I may or may not have some gifts from Europe with your name on them.”

Caroline’s eyes brightened a little at that, and she leaned in, eager to hear more. “Okay, spill. I need all the details—starting with Enzo.”

Elorie laughed, grateful to see a flicker of the old Caroline coming back. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Enzo is... a character.”

Elorie smiled as she started to talk about her trip, especially about Enzo. Caroline shifted on the bed, tucking her legs beneath her as she listened with rapt attention.

“Enzo is… complicated,” Elorie began, her voice thoughtful. “He’s charming, but there’s so much underneath that cool, collected exterior. You wouldn’t believe some of the stories he told me. He’s been all over Europe, lived through so many different eras. It’s like talking to someone who’s seen the world change firsthand.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of mischief returning to her eyes. “Complicated, huh? I think I like complicated. So... any sparks between you two?”

Elorie rolled her eyes, laughing. “No, Care. No sparks. He’s more like an older brother... maybe with a bit of a protector vibe. He’s been through a lot, and he doesn’t need the extra drama of a relationship. Besides, you know my life is chaotic enough as it is.”

Caroline gave her a playful nudge. “So, does that mean I can have him?”

Elorie snorted. “Be my guest. But trust me, Enzo’s got more baggage than an airport. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s still hung up on some vampire from his past.” She paused for a moment, her expression turning a little more serious. “Honestly, Care, he’s been through a lot. He hides it well, but there’s pain there.”

Caroline tilted her head, her playful tone softening. “Well, everyone’s got baggage, right? But enough about him. What else did you do? Besides, you know, hang out with your mysterious vampire protector.”

Elorie’s face brightened as she launched into stories about London’s markets, the English countryside, and how much Jenna actually got along with Enzo. “You should’ve seen them, Care. It was like they’d known each other for years. They’d banter back and forth like siblings. Jenna even helped Enzo navigate some of the local markets, which was hilarious to watch. And Enzo, despite all his... well, Enzo-ness, was surprisingly thoughtful. He showed us places that weren’t on any tourist map—places he said were special to him.”

Caroline’s eyes widened. “So he’s actually sweet under all that brooding?”

Elorie shrugged. “In his own way, yeah. He’s got layers, that’s for sure. But it was nice, you know? To see someone who’s been through as much as he has still find moments to appreciate things.”

Caroline smiled warmly, her expression soft. “I’m really glad you went, Ellie. You needed that. And it sounds like you got to see another side of life. Something outside of Mystic Falls and... all this craziness.”

Elorie nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. “Yeah, it was... refreshing. And it gave me some perspective. I came back feeling more grounded, more... ready to face everything here.”

Caroline sighed, leaning back into her pillows. “I wish I could have a trip like that. Just get away from everything for a while.”

“Well,” Elorie said, “if you ever want to sneak away, you know I’m down for another adventure.”

Caroline’s smile returned, this time more genuine. “I might just take you up on that. But in the meantime, how about we distract ourselves with something fun? You’ve been gone too long, and I’ve missed you.”

Elorie grinned, the weight of their conversation lifting. “Deal. Let’s do something fun.”

The two girls spent the rest of the afternoon talking, laughing, and catching up on all the little things that had happened over the summer. Caroline peppered Elorie with questions about Europe, and in return, Elorie listened to Caroline vent about her parents’ divorce and the awkwardness of Mystic Falls life without her best friend around. The more they talked, the more the tension between them eased, and for the first time in weeks, Caroline looked like her old self again.

The two girls spent the rest of the afternoon talking, laughing, and catching up on everything that had slipped by during the summer. Caroline's curiosity was insatiable, peppering Elorie with questions about Europe—the sights, the food, the fashion, and, of course, Enzo. Every detail was soaked in, leaving Caroline wide-eyed with excitement and just the right amount of jealousy.

In return, Elorie listened as Caroline vented about the mess her parents’ divorce had made of her summer, how awkward it had been navigating Mystic Falls without her best friend by her side. She talked about how lonely the big house felt now that her dad had left town and how Sheriff Forbes was working more than ever, trying to fill the gaps.

The more they talked, the lighter things felt. For the first time in what felt like ages, Caroline's bright, infectious energy returned. She laughed more freely, joked without restraint, and even seemed to relax the tension she had been carrying on her shoulders. It was like having the old Caroline back, the one who could make anything feel fun.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky and there was still no sign of Sheriff Forbes coming home, Caroline had the bright idea to head over to the Sommers’ house.

"Let's bike over," Caroline suggested with a mischievous grin. "It’s not like my mom’s going to show up anytime soon, and Jenna always makes the best dinners. Plus, it’s been forever since I hung out at your place."

Elorie agreed, grateful for more time to unwind. The girls grabbed their bikes and set off, the breeze whipping through their hair as they sped through the familiar streets of Mystic Falls, their laughter echoing in the quiet evening air.

When they arrived at the Sommers house, Jenna was already in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner. She greeted them with a warm smile, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"You two look like you're having fun," Jenna said, her eyes twinkling. "Just in time to help me finish up."

Caroline, always eager to be part of anything social, immediately rolled up her sleeves and headed for the kitchen counter. "What can I do to help? I'm practically a sous-chef by now."

Elorie chuckled, grabbing an apron and joining in. The three of them fell into an easy rhythm—Caroline setting the table, Elorie stirring something on the stove, and Jenna giving instructions with the occasional teasing remark. At dinner, the conversation turned to cheerleading practice and the usual high school gossip. Caroline shared updates with Jenna, who listened with amusement as the two girls filled her in on the ups and downs of Mystic Falls High.

By the time the night wound down, and Caroline was borrowing pajamas for an impromptu sleepover, it felt like things were finally settling into a new rhythm. The summer had been full of changes, but as Elorie sat on her bed later that night, watching Caroline go through her nightly routine, she realized that some things—like her bond with Caroline—remained steady, no matter what.

As Caroline emerged from the bathroom, dressed in borrowed pajamas, she flopped onto the bed beside Elorie, her hair still damp from the shower. “Okay, now that we’ve talked about everything else—how’s the store going?”

Elorie blinked, her thoughts immediately shifting to her online shop. “Oh, right. I almost forgot about that.” She reached for her laptop, opening it up to check her store’s dashboard. “Enzo said he’d put the word out to help with advertising, but I didn’t expect...”

Her voice trailed off as she stared at the screen, her eyes widening. There were dozens of new orders waiting for her. “Holy crap.”

Caroline peered over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “That’s... a lot. Looks like Enzo’s got some connections.”

Elorie nodded, still in shock. “I guess so. I didn’t think I’d get this many orders so fast.”

Caroline sat up, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Okay, here’s an idea—why don’t you streamline it a bit? Instead of doing random pieces, you could work with a specific jewelry supplier. Pick a store to supply you with rings, bracelets, earrings, whatever. You could resell them with your protection spells at different price points. And offer customizations, of course.”

Elorie blinked, considering the idea. “That’s... actually brilliant, Care. It would save me a ton of time.”

Caroline grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “I know, right? Plus, you could focus more on the spells and less on making the actual jewelry. It’s a win-win.”

Elorie smiled, already thinking of ways to implement the idea. “I’ll definitely talk to Jenna about it in the morning. She’ll love this.”

The next morning, Elorie and Caroline stumbled downstairs, the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the house. Jenna was already at the kitchen island, sipping her coffee and reading the newspaper. She looked up as the girls entered the room, giving them a warm smile.

“Good morning, sleepyheads,” Jenna teased. “I thought you’d be down sooner with all the talking I heard last night.”

Caroline grinned and made a beeline for the food. “Well, you know, catching up takes time,” she said, grabbing a plate and piling it high. “By the way, Elorie had this brilliant idea for her shop last night. We’re going to make it huge.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as Elorie grabbed her own plate and joined them at the island. “Oh? Do tell.”

Elorie glanced at Caroline, who nodded encouragingly, before launching into an explanation of the plan. “So, we were talking, and Caroline suggested that instead of making all the pieces myself, I could work with a jewelry supplier. That way, I can focus more on the spells and customization, and we can offer a range of products at different price points.”

Jenna’s eyes lit up with interest. “That’s actually a great idea, Ellie. It would make the shop more scalable and give you more time to focus on what you’re best at—the magic. Plus, I could easily market that angle.”

Elorie nodded, already feeling the excitement build. “Exactly. And we could design the site to highlight the custom pieces, like special protection rings or enchanted bracelets. I could even offer personalized spells for specific needs.”

Jenna leaned back in her chair, clearly already strategizing in her head. “I love it. We can create different tiers of products—something for everyone. And with my marketing background, I can push the brand toward a more luxury, bespoke feel. People love that kind of exclusivity, especially with anything related to magic.”

Caroline grinned from across the table. “See? I told you it was a good idea.”

Elorie laughed. “Alright, you win. It’s brilliant, and I’m in. But we’re going to need to revamp the website and source reliable suppliers.”

Jenna waved a hand dismissively. “I can handle the suppliers, and we’ll work together on the website. You just focus on clearing your current orders and refining the spell work.”

Elorie’s heart swelled with gratitude. She had been so caught up in everything that she hadn’t realized how much help she truly had from the people around her. Between Caroline’s constant support and Jenna’s marketing expertise, she felt like they were truly building something special together.

“Thanks, Jenna,” Elorie said, her voice soft. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

Jenna smiled warmly, reaching out to give Elorie’s hand a squeeze. “You’ve got something amazing here, Ellie. And we’re going to make it even bigger. Just you wait.”

Over breakfast, the smell of scrambled eggs and toast filling the air, Jenna looked over at the girls, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “So, are you two excited about cheer tryouts today?”

Elorie glanced up from her plate, her fork pausing mid-air. “Excited might not be the word I’d use,” she said with a small grin. “More like… cautiously optimistic?”

Caroline, sitting across from her, rolled her eyes playfully and nudged Elorie’s leg under the table. “Oh, come on, Ellie! We’ve got this. All that practice over the summer? We’re totally ready.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I’m sensing some mixed feelings here. What’s the deal?”

Caroline leaned forward, her enthusiasm infectious. “It’s going to be amazing! We’ve been practicing all summer, and Elorie’s practically a natural at the routines now. But”—her voice dropped dramatically—"there’s still Bonnie and Elena to deal with.”

Elorie sighed, nodding in agreement. “Yeah… Bonnie and Elena. Things are still pretty tense between us, and I don’t know how it’s going to go with all of us trying out for the same team. It’s not exactly a fun environment.”

Jenna’s smile faded slightly, a note of concern creeping into her expression. “I know things have been tough with them lately, but you’re going to be great, Elorie. Just focus on doing your best. If cheerleading is something you really want, don’t let them get in your head.”

Caroline pointed her fork at Elorie, nodding in agreement. “Exactly! This is about you. Not them. We’re going to crush those tryouts, and you’re going to feel so good about it afterward.”

Elorie smiled at her best friend’s pep talk, but the tension in her stomach remained. “I hope so,” she said softly, her thoughts lingering on the inevitable tension with Bonnie and Elena.

Jenna gave her an encouraging look. “Just remember, whatever happens, you’ve got people in your corner. Caroline’s been your biggest cheerleader—no pun intended—and I’m always here for you, too.”

Caroline grinned. “And you know, worst-case scenario? If all else fails, we’ll just start our own cheer squad. The ‘Caroline and Elorie Show,’ featuring all the flips and jumps they could never dream of doing.”

Elorie laughed at the image. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jenna stood up and began clearing the plates. “Good luck, girls. Knock ‘em dead out there.”

“Thanks, Jenna,” they both chimed, finishing the last of their breakfast before grabbing their bags and heading out the door.

As they walked toward the school, Caroline kept up her usual chatter about the upcoming tryouts, the routines, and the competition. Elorie tried to focus on the excitement of it all, but the lingering tension with Bonnie and Elena still hung in the back of her mind like a storm cloud waiting to break.

But Caroline was right. They were going to crush it—she just had to believe in herself enough to push through. The school day dragged on, each class feeling longer than the last as Elorie’s mind wandered from one mundane topic to the next. She caught herself doodling in the margins of her notebook during math class, her thoughts drifting back to Europe and the whirlwind of experiences she’d had over the summer.

By the time lunch rolled around, she was more than ready for a break from the monotony. As she made her way through the crowded hallways, she spotted Jeremy, Tyler, and Matt near their usual hangout by the lockers, laughing and joking with each other. Her face lit up as she approached them, holding a small bag that contained the souvenirs she had brought back from her trip.

“Hey, guys!” Elorie called out, causing them to turn in her direction.

“Ellie!” Jeremy grinned, stepping forward to greet her. “How was Europe? I’ve been dying to hear all about it.”

“Europe was amazing,” she said with a smile, her excitement bubbling back up at the memory of her trip. “But I brought something for all of you. A little ‘sorry I missed the summer’ gift.”

She handed the bag to Jeremy first, who reached in and pulled out a sleek, exclusive UK edition of a book he’d just started reading. His eyes widened in surprise as he turned it over in his hands.

“No way!” Jeremy exclaimed. “This is awesome! I’ve been looking for this edition online, but it’s impossible to get here. How did you even find it?”

Elorie shrugged, grinning. “I have my ways. I knew you’d appreciate it, though.”

Jeremy gave her a quick, appreciative hug. “Thanks, Ellie. This is seriously cool.”

Next, she handed over two jerseys to Tyler and Matt, each one representing their favorite football teams. Tyler’s eyes lit up as he held the Manchester United jersey, and Matt looked equally thrilled with his Arsenal one.

“Are you kidding me?” Tyler said, holding up the jersey like it was made of gold. “This is sick! I’ve been wanting one of these forever.”

Matt nodded in agreement, running his hand over the material. “Yeah, this is legit, Ellie. You didn’t have to do this.”

Elorie smiled, her heart warming at their reactions. “I wanted to. I felt bad missing out on the summer, and I figured you guys deserved something cool.”

The boys exchanged glances before Matt reached out and gave her a playful nudge. “Well, next time you decide to run off to Europe, make sure you pack us in your suitcase.”

Elorie laughed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They spent the next few minutes catching up, Jeremy asking about the different places she’d visited and Tyler going on about how he was already planning to show off the jersey at the next football game. As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Elorie waved goodbye to the boys and headed to her next class, feeling lighter than she had all day.

Before she knew it the day was ending and it was time for try outs. Elorie stood at the edge of the gymnasium, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched the cheerleaders warm up. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anxiety and excitement swirling through her. Caroline had been relentless in her encouragement, insisting that trying out for the cheerleading team would be fun, a way to shake off the tension of the past year and start their sophomore year fresh.

But now that she was here, standing just a few feet away from Bonnie and Elena, the tension was palpable. The rift between them had only grown wider since the fallout last year, and being in the same room with them—especially in a space so charged with competition—was enough to make Elorie’s skin crawl.

Caroline, as usual, was unfazed. She bounced over to Elorie, a bright smile on her face, and gave her a playful nudge. "Come on, Ellie! This is going to be great! We’ve practiced all summer, and you’ve got some killer moves. The team needs us."

Elorie forced a smile, but her stomach was in knots. "I don’t know, Care. This doesn’t exactly feel like my scene." She glanced over at Elena and Bonnie, who were whispering to each other, their eyes flicking briefly in her direction. The coldness between them made the air feel thick, heavy with unspoken words and lingering resentment.

Caroline followed her gaze, her expression softening for just a moment. "Forget about them," she said firmly. "We’re here to have fun, remember? Who cares what they think? You’re doing this for you."

Elorie nodded, but the knot in her stomach tightened. She couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t just about fun. Trying out for the team, stepping into this world where Bonnie and Elena still had sway—it felt like walking into enemy territory.

As the coach called for everyone to gather, Elorie took a deep breath, her mind racing. She could feel the weight of the stares from the other girls, some curious, others dismissive. But she pushed the fear down, reminding herself that she had come this far. Caroline had been right—this was about proving something to herself, about stepping out of the shadows she’d been hiding in for too long.

The tryouts began, and Caroline took to the routines effortlessly, her confidence radiating as she executed every flip and jump with precision. Elorie, to her own surprise, found herself falling into the rhythm of the moves, her body responding to the hours of practice she and Caroline had put in over the summer. For a moment, the tension melted away, and it was just her, the music, and the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

But then came the stunt section—the part where trust was crucial. Caroline partnered with Elorie, just like they’d practiced, but they were grouped with Bonnie and Elena, who had a reputation for being one of the best duos on the squad.

The tension thickened.

"Ready?" Caroline asked, her voice calm, reassuring.

Elorie nodded, her hands shaking slightly. She could feel Bonnie and Elena’s eyes on her, could sense the judgment in every glance. As they set up for the pyramid, Bonnie shot her a sharp look, her voice low but cutting. "Are you sure you can handle this, Elorie? It’s not exactly something you can just wing."

Elorie bit her lip, fighting the urge to snap back. "I can handle it."

Elena, standing next to Bonnie, crossed her arms, her eyes cold. "Maybe you should stick to what you’re good at. You know, like keeping secrets."

The words hit like a slap, and Elorie’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel the heat of anger rising, but Caroline’s voice cut through the tension. "Back off, Elena," she said sharply, her usual cheerfulness gone. "Elorie’s just as good as any of us. We’re a team here."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "A team? Right. If she screws this up, it’s on all of us."

Elorie’s heart pounded, but she forced herself to stay calm. She wasn’t going to let them get to her. Not here, not now.

"She won’t screw it up," Caroline said firmly, her eyes flashing with determination as she looked at Elorie. "Right, Ellie?"

Elorie swallowed hard and nodded. "Right."

They moved into position, the pyramid forming as the coach watched from the sidelines. Elorie could feel her legs shaking slightly as she prepared to lift Caroline into the air. Everything had to be perfect—there was no room for error. But Bonnie’s words still lingered in her mind, her confidence rattled.

Caroline’s voice came again, soft and encouraging. "You’ve got this, El. Just like we practiced."

Elorie nodded, taking a deep breath, and as they moved through the motions, she pushed all thoughts of Bonnie and Elena out of her mind. Her focus sharpened, her movements fluid and controlled. She hoisted Caroline up with ease, holding her steady as the pyramid came together.

For a few seconds, it was perfect.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, Elorie saw Bonnie’s foot slip. It happened in slow motion—Bonnie’s balance faltering, her weight shifting dangerously. Elorie’s instincts kicked in, her hand darting out to steady her, but the move was too sudden, too jerky.

The entire pyramid wobbled, the balance disrupted. Caroline let out a small gasp as she teetered at the top, her arms flailing slightly to keep herself steady. Elorie’s heart raced, panic surging through her, but she didn’t let go. She held on tight, gritting her teeth as she fought to keep the formation intact.

Somehow, they managed to hold it together, but the moment was tense—too tense. When the coach blew the whistle to signal the end of the routine, Elorie let out a shaky breath, her muscles trembling from the effort.

Bonnie shot her a glare as they disassembled the pyramid. "Nice save," she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Elorie ignored her, too focused on keeping her emotions in check. The last thing she needed was another confrontation, especially in front of the coach. But the tension between her and Bonnie was palpable, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

As they moved off the mat, Caroline looped an arm around Elorie’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You did great," she whispered. "Don’t let them get to you."

Elorie nodded, though the knot in her stomach remained, twisting tighter with each passing moment. The tryouts had gone better than she expected—her jumps were clean, her timing nearly flawless, and she had even nailed the pyramid routine without faltering—but none of that could shake the unease gnawing at her insides. It wasn’t just about making the team. The tension with Bonnie and Elena was a weight she couldn’t ignore, like a storm cloud that had been gathering for months, ready to burst The air during the tryouts had been thick with unspoken hostility, Elena’s cold glances and Bonnie’s guarded silence creating an invisible wall between them. Elorie had felt it with every move, every cheer. The past they shared, the memories of sleepovers and laughter, seemed like another lifetime. Now, every interaction was fraught with suspicion and mistrust.

She hadn’t wanted things to end up this way, hadn’t asked for the distance that now yawned between them like an unbridgeable chasm. But it was there, a constant reminder that no matter how hard she tried, there would always be something—or someone—waiting to tear her down. Even during tryouts, when she should’ve been focused on the routines, her mind had wandered back to the hallway confrontations, the icy exchanges that had become their new normal. Bonnie’s sharp accusations echoed in her head, and Elena’s growing indifference stung in ways Elorie wasn’t ready to admit out loud.

The pair retreated to Elorie’s house after the tense day of tryouts, collapsing onto her bed with a mix of relief and exhaustion. The room, bathed in the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains, felt like a sanctuary, a bubble of safety far removed from the tension of the school gym.

Chapter Text

Over the next few weeks, they dove headfirst into the rebranding process. Jenna handled the marketing, Caroline scoured local and online stores for suppliers, and Elorie spent hours fulfilling her backlogged orders, adding her signature touch to each piece.

The website underwent a complete transformation. With Jenna’s help, they restructured it to reflect the new product tiers and customization options. The homepage now featured stunning photography of the jewelry, with subtle hints of magic woven into the designs. A sleek, elegant logo completed the look, giving the shop a polished, high-end feel.

Caroline became the go-to for curating collections. She had a natural eye for fashion, and her ability to pick out pieces that would complement Elorie’s spells was invaluable. She threw herself into the project with enthusiasm, always excited to show off the latest finds.

“El,” Caroline said one afternoon as she unpacked a shipment of rings and bracelets, “these are going to be perfect for your protection spells. Look at this one—it’s got just the right amount of flair without being too flashy.”

Elorie smiled, watching Caroline work. “You’ve got a real talent for this, Care. I should be paying you.”

Caroline waved her off. “Please. I’m just happy to be a part of it. Plus, you’re going to need me to handle all the media outreach when this thing blows up.”

Elorie laughed, but deep down, she knew Caroline was right. With the way things were growing, her little online shop was turning into something much bigger than she had ever imagined. The steady stream of orders kept coming, and as they worked together, they found their rhythm. By the end of the month, they had a fully stocked online store, complete with custom spell-enchanted jewelry and a curated selection of high-quality, ready-to-sell pieces.

With the way things were growing, her little online shop was turning into something much bigger than she had ever imagined. The steady stream of orders kept coming, and as they worked together, they found their rhythm. By the end of the month, they had a fully stocked online store, complete with custom spell-enchanted jewelry and a curated selection of high-quality, ready-to-sell pieces.

Caroline, as always, was the marketing genius, her eye for trends helping them pick just the right styles to appeal to their growing customer base. Jenna, too, had found her stride, using her background in psychology and marketing to create targeted ads and a sleek, inviting website. Together, they were a well-oiled machine, balancing the magical with the practical.

Elorie felt a strange sense of pride as she looked at their progress. What had started as a small side project to help Jenna with her master's degree had grown into something real. Orders were coming in from all over, and she was starting to get repeat customers, which meant people were happy with the products—and with the magic.

But as the business flourished, so did the pressure. Each new order meant more enchantments, more time spent carefully crafting each piece to perfection. The jewelry wasn’t just about style; it was about protection, about weaving spells into metal and stone that could genuinely make a difference in someone’s life. And the more they sold, the more responsibility Elorie felt to make sure everything was right.

One evening, as she sat at her desk, finishing up a protection charm on a delicate bracelet, her phone rang the noise jolting her attention from her work. She blinked, pulling herself out of the trance she’d been in, and glanced at the screen. The words "Restricted Number" flashed, and a pit instantly formed in her stomach.

A pit grew in her stomach. It could only be one person.

Diana.

Elorie hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the screen. She hadn’t heard from her mother in months, She hesitated for a moment before picking up the phone, bringing it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Elorie," the voice on the other end greeted her coolly. It was unmistakable—Diana. The woman who had given birth to her but had done little else in the way of mothering.

Elorie felt her heart rate pick up, a mixture of frustration and wariness coursing through her. "What do you want?"

"Is that any way to greet your mother?" Diana’s tone was sharp, the slight edge of superiority Elorie had come to expect from her. "I’m just calling to check up on you. How’s the magic coming along? Have you been practising the spells from the Bennett Grimoire?”

Elorie took a deep breath, steadying herself. She knew that rising to the bait wouldn’t help, but the emotions that had been simmering for months boiled up. "You're calling to check up on me? After months of silence? Not a single call after sending that birthday gift and disappearing? No word at all. And now you want to know how the magic's going?"

"Watch your tone," Diana warned, her voice cold and clipped. "Don’t raise your voice at your mother."

A bitter laugh escaped Elorie before she could stop it. "Mother? Really? Because from where I’m standing, you're more like a part-time mother at best."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and for a brief second, Elorie wondered if Diana had hung up. But then her mother’s voice returned, lower, more controlled. "You don’t know everything, Elorie. I’ve made my choices to protect you. I’ve kept you safe from things you couldn’t begin to understand."

"Kept me safe?" Elorie shot back, her voice trembling with the weight of the years of anger and abandonment. "You weren’t there when I needed you. You never are. Every time something happens—every time the nightmares get worse or I discover something new about my powers—I can’t rely on you.

Diana's sigh came through the line, but it wasn’t apologetic—it was more of an exasperated, tired sound. "You think you know everything, don’t you? You think because you’ve learned a few spells and grown some backbone, you can lecture me? I’m doing what I have to, Elorie."

"And I'm just supposed to accept that? To accept that my ‘mother’ only shows up when she feels like it?" Elorie's grip tightened on the bracelet in her hand, her knuckles white from the strain. "I’ve been getting by without you for years. So why bother pretending you care now?"

"Because whether you like it or not, you’re my daughter," Diana’s voice hardened. "And when I say I’m protecting you, I mean it. There are things you don’t know—things that would destroy you if I let them get too close."

"I’ve already dealt with enough things that could destroy me," Elorie shot back, her voice thick with emotion. "You being gone? That’s been its own kind of destruction."

For a moment, the line was filled with nothing but the sound of Elorie’s heavy breathing. She could feel the sting of tears threatening to rise, but she fought them back. This wasn’t the time to break. Not in front of her mother—especially not over the phone.

"Believe what you want," Diana finally said, her tone more dismissive than ever. "But I called to check on your progress, not to argue. Keep practicing. You’re going to need every ounce of magic you can muster."

Before Elorie could respond, the line went dead. She stared at the phone in her hand, her chest tight with unspoken words, with the weight of all the things she wanted to say but couldn’t.

She set the phone down slowly, her heart still racing, her hands trembling as she returned to the bracelet in front of her. The protection charm, the magic she had been so focused on, now felt insignificant compared to the storm brewing inside her. Elorie wanted to scream. She was fine. She was doing well—thriving, even. But now, all of that felt shattered, like everything she’d built was crumbling under Diana’s shadow. A wave of anger surged through her, hot and fierce, consuming her rational thoughts. Without thinking, she swiped everything off her desk—books, charms, her phone—all of it clattered to the floor in a chaotic mess. The sound was satisfying in the worst way, fueling her rage.

"Why does she always have to ruin everything?" Elorie shouted to the empty room, her voice cracking with the emotion she could no longer contain. Her chest heaved as she fought to keep the tears at bay, but they welled up, stinging her eyes. She blinked furiously, trying to hold them back.

And then, the window. One of the glass panes near her desk cracked, a thin fracture snaking across its surface in response to her outburst of magic. The sight of it startled her, cutting through her rage just long enough for the reality to sink in. She’d lost control—again. Elorie collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in her hands as the tears finally fell. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her whole body trembling with the force of emotions she didn’t want to feel. Why did Diana always have this power over her? Even after all these years, all the independence she’d gained, all the progress she’d made—one phone call was enough to unravel it.

A soft knock came at the door, so gentle that it almost went unnoticed amid the turmoil. Jenna.

"Ellie?" Jenna’s voice was cautious, tinged with concern. "Are you okay?"

Elorie wiped at her face quickly, trying to hide the evidence of her breakdown, though she knew Jenna could sense something was wrong. "Yeah," she croaked, her voice far from convincing. "I’m fine."

There was a pause, and then the door creaked open slightly. Jenna peeked inside, her eyes scanning the mess on the floor before landing on Elorie. "Doesn’t sound like you’re fine," she said softly, stepping into the room. She closed the door behind her, leaving them in the quiet stillness of the space, save for the faint crackling of broken glass in the window.

Elorie stared down at her hands, unable to meet Jenna’s gaze. "It’s nothing," she muttered. "Just... Diana. She called."

Jenna sighed, moving to sit beside Elorie on the bed. She didn’t speak for a moment, just placed a gentle hand on Elorie’s shoulder, the touch warm and grounding.

"You don’t have to hold it in, you know," Jenna said, her voice kind but firm. "It’s okay to be angry."

Elorie shook her head, her breath hitching as she tried to hold back another wave of tears. "I hate that she does this. Every time she shows up, it’s like everything unravels. I’m fine when she’s not around, but then she calls, and suddenly… suddenly I’m just this mess again." She gestured vaguely to the room, the shattered glass, the scattered books. "She’s not even here, and she’s still ruining everything."

Jenna’s grip on her shoulder tightened slightly, a silent show of support. "You’ve been doing amazing, Ellie. Don’t let one call from her take that away from you. You have to remember your mom’s situation… complicated."

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it a thousand times. She’s doing this to protect to me.” Elorie let out a bitter laugh, swiping at her damp cheeks. “But she doesn’t even care. She only calls to check on my magic progress, not because she actually gives a damn about me." Her voice cracked with the weight of the words, the truth of them settling heavily in the space between them.

Jenna was quiet for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. "You’re more than just your magic, Ellie. I hope you know, you’ve got people here who see all of you—not just a siphon, not just the things Diana wants you to be. Don’t let her make you feel like that’s all you are."

Elorie looked up at Jenna then, her eyes red and glassy, but filled with gratitude. Jenna had been there for her when Diana wasn’t. Jenna had loved her, protected her, in a way her own mother never had. The words Jenna spoke now meant more than she could express.

"I don’t want to be like her," Elorie whispered, her voice small and raw. "I don’t want to become so wrapped up in magic that I forget what’s important. But it feels like it’s consuming everything."

Jenna smiled gently, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Elorie’s ear. "You’re not like her. You have a choice. And you’re already proving that by caring about the people around you, by being more than just your powers. You’re building something for yourself—something real."

Elorie sniffled, wiping her eyes one last time. "Thank you," she said, her voice a little steadier now.

Jenna gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Anytime. And hey, don’t worry about the window. We’ll get it fixed." She stood up, glancing at the mess on the floor. "Want some help cleaning this up?"

Elorie shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "No, I’ve got it. I think I just needed to… let it out."

Jenna nodded, heading toward the door. "I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Take your time, okay?"

As the door closed softly behind her, Elorie took a deep breath, letting the silence of the room wash over her. The anger still simmered beneath the surface, but it was quieter now, more manageable. Diana might have the ability to shake her, but she wasn’t going to let her ruin everything.

Not this time. , with dense woods on one side and a clear view of the mountains on the other.

The isolation was exactly what they needed. Fewer neighbors meant fewer prying eyes, and the sprawling grounds offered Elorie the freedom to practice her magic without constantly glancing over her shoulder. The house, tucked away from the town center, provided a level of privacy neither of them had ever known. They could be themselves here. And when visitors did come, there’d be time to prepare, to hide any trace of magic.

Standing on the wide front porch, Elorie felt an unexpected calm settle over her. It was more than just relief—it was a sense of belonging. The property felt like a sanctuary, a place where she could finally explore her abilities without fear of being discovered or judged.

“This is perfect,” Elorie murmured, her gaze sweeping across the expanse of trees and hills that framed the horizon. The wind rustled the leaves, creating a peaceful symphony that mirrored the tranquility within her. “I can really feel it, you know? Like this place was meant to be ours.”

Beside her, Jenna took a sip of her coffee, her expression content but thoughtful. "It feels like we’re finally putting down roots somewhere, like we can just... be." She glanced sideways at Elorie, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "And you’ll have all the space you need to practice without worrying about anyone stumbling across a magic circle or—heaven forbid—any flying objects."

Elorie grinned, the excitement bubbling up inside her. “I can’t wait to get started. There’s so much I’ve been holding back on. Spells that needed space... room to experiment. Now I can actually test things without worrying I’ll accidentally shatter a window—or worse.”

Jenna laughed softly. “Just don’t blow anything up, okay? We haven’t even unpacked yet, and I’d rather not have to explain to any neighbours why there’s a crater in the backyard.”

Elorie chuckled, her spirits lifting a little. “I promise I’ll keep the explosions to a minimum.”

Jenna’s expression softened, and she leaned against the porch railing, her eyes thoughtful. “It’s about time you got to breathe.” She paused for a moment, then smiled. “How about we host a big barbecue to celebrate? We can invite everyone—friends, family—and just... enjoy this place. It’s a new chapter for both of us.”

Elorie nodded, “I think that sounds perfect. Let’s make it big. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to show off the new house without giving away the whole magic part.”

Jenna chuckled. “Deal. Just promise me one thing: no levitating plates or glowing plants at this barbecue, okay?”

Elorie raised her hands in mock surrender. “No magic, I swear.”

Jenna reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "Now, let’s go inside and finish unpacking before you start planning how you’re going to conquer the whole supernatural world from your very own magic room."

Elorie laughed. "It’s not conquering, it’s... expanding."

"Uh-huh," Jenna replied with a grin. "Just make sure the only expanding you do is your knowledge, not the house." She winked as they headed inside, their laughter echoing through the empty rooms that were soon to become their new sanctuary.

Later that afternoon, while Elorie was halfway through unpacking the last box in her new bedroom, her phone buzzed beside her. She glanced at the screen and saw Enzo’s name flash across it. A small smile tugged at her lips as she swiped to answer.

“Enzo, hey,” she greeted, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder as she organized her books on the shelf. “What’s up?”

“Elorie, darling,” Enzo’s voice crackled over the phone, his usual teasing tone mixed with an edge of excitement. “I’ve got news. I’m getting close to finding Damon.”

Elorie paused, her hand stilling midair as she reached for a book. “Really? Damon Salvatore?”

“The one and only,” Enzo confirmed, though there was a hint of frustration in his voice. “I’ve crossed paths with a number of interesting vampires during my search—some more fascinating than others. The world has changed so much, and it’s strange to see how we’ve all adapted. The new era is... different.”

Elorie settled on her bed, curiosity piqued. “Different how?”

“Technology for one,” Enzo chuckled. “Half these younger vampires are obsessed with their gadgets. Social media, smartphones, they’ve all adapted better than I could have imagined. But it’s not just that. It’s the pace of life, the casual way they carry on as if the world around them doesn’t hold the same dangers anymore.”

Elorie smiled, trying to imagine a vampire scrolling through Instagram. “So, besides technology, what else have you discovered? Anyone stand out?”

Enzo hummed thoughtfully. “Oh, plenty of characters. I’ve met vampires from all walks of life. Some have become reckless, while others try to blend in. But none quite like this one I’ve been spending time with.”

There was something in his voice—an intrigue that Elorie hadn’t heard from him in a long time.

“How old is the oldest vampire you’ve met so far?” Elorie asked, her curiosity piqued by the way he spoke of this new acquaintance.

“Ah, now that’s the interesting part.” Enzo’s voice took on a tone of admiration. “She’s almost 800 years old. Her name’s—well, that’s not important. What’s fascinating is how she carries herself, how little the centuries seem to weigh on her. She’s elegant, commanding... and utterly unbothered by the petty dramas that consume so many of us.”

Elorie leaned forward, intrigued. “Eight hundred? And you’ve been spending time with her?”

“A bit,” Enzo admitted. “We’ve bonded over shared betrayals, though hers make mine seem almost insignificant. She’s lived through more than I could imagine, and yet she still has a fire inside her. She’s... complicated, like most of us, but she knows how to navigate this strange world better than most. There’s something about her that I find... grounding.”

Elorie could sense the admiration in his voice. “You sure she’s not using her age to charm you?”

Enzo chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure she could if she wanted to. But it’s not like that. There’s a mutual respect between us. It’s not often you meet someone who’s lived through so much and still manages to hold onto some semblance of purpose.”

Elorie smiled softly, hearing the weight behind his words. “Well, just be careful. You have a tendency to find trouble in the most unexpected places.”

“I’ll be careful, darling,” Enzo assured her, his tone lightening again. “Besides, I’ve survived this long, haven’t I? But you’d like her, I think. She’s sharp, doesn’t tolerate any nonsense. Reminds me of you in some ways.”

Elorie grinned, shaking her head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I’ll keep you posted on my progress, but if nothing else, meeting these older vampires has been... enlightening. It’s strange, seeing how they’ve survived and adapted.”

“Well, don’t forget to take care of yourself in the process,” Elorie reminded him, her voice softening. “Damon might be your goal, but you’re just as important, Enzo.”

Enzo’s voice warmed. “I won’t forget, Ellie. And thank you—for everything.”

After the call with Enzo, Elorie set her phone aside, the weight of his words still lingering in the back of her mind. She let out a slow breath, staring at the walls of her room, her mind swirling with possibilities, dangers, and a creeping sense of vulnerability. Damon and Enzo were out there, navigating a world she barely understood, full of risks she could hardly fathom. The thought alone made her skin crawl. Determined to shake off the unease, she stood up, grabbed her carving tools, and moved to the hallway. If she couldn’t control what happened outside, she could at least make sure her home remained a sanctuary. The knife felt cool in her hands as she began etching symbols into the wood—protection spells she had carefully researched, though most of it was guesswork from obscure corners of the internet and an old book on mythical creatures she’d stumbled across in a used bookstore.

The ancient script took form under her hands, each stroke deliberate, focused. She worked methodically, carving symbols into the walls at key points of entry—door frames, windows, and even the baseboards. This was her solution in case one of them, by some slip, invited something into the house—something worse than Enzo or Damon. Elorie's breath hitched as she thought of the possible threats. Vampires, sure, but what if the town’s legends held more truth than anyone dared to believe? Werewolves. Witches. Her mind raced, replaying fragments of conversations with Enzo. He’d scoffed when she’d mentioned werewolves, dismissing them as myths. "You're being silly, Ellie," he'd said with that easy smile of his.

Maybe she was. Maybe she was overreacting. But better to be silly than dead.

As the symbols deepened into the wood, a quiet intensity filled the house. The air felt different. Thicker, almost. Every scrape of her blade against the wood was a promise—to herself, to Jenna—that no matter what darkness lurked beyond their doorstep, it wouldn’t find a way inside. She paused, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. Her mind wandered back to her conversation with Enzo. He had sounded more relaxed than she’d heard him in a while. Finding Damon, reconnecting—it was good for him, despite the lingering bitterness in his voice. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their problems were only beginning.

With each carved symbol, she whispered the words she had memorized from her collection of grimoires. They felt strange on her tongue, like speaking a language she was only beginning to understand. As she worked, her thoughts drifted back to Diana—her mother, distant and cold. She wondered if this was how Diana had felt once, carving out a space in a world that was always just one step away from swallowing her whole. Elorie shook off the thought. She wasn’t like Diana. She had a family here, a life she was trying to protect. As long as she kept her head down, stayed focused, and made sure her defenses were solid, she could handle whatever came their way.

By the time she finished, dusk had begun to settle, casting long shadows through the windows. Elorie stood back, surveying her work. The house was warded—at least, as much as she could manage with what little knowledge she had.

Caroline glanced up from the chopping board, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Ellie! Just in time. We're making your favorite tonight," she said with a grin, gesturing to the ingredients spread across the counter. "And don’t worry, I’m doing all the hard work," she added with a teasing wink, tossing the freshly chopped carrots into the bowl.

Jenna looked over her shoulder from the stove, her face glowing in the warm light of the kitchen. "How’s it going upstairs? Did you finish with your… project?" she asked, carefully choosing her words, aware of the ever-present secrecy around Elorie’s magic. They had grown used to navigating the supernatural world, but there was still a need for discretion, even within the safety of their home.

Elorie smiled, leaning against the doorframe as the familiar, comforting smell of dinner filled the air. The tension from her earlier work of warding the house with protective spells still lingered, but here, in the kitchen, with Jenna and Caroline, things felt… normal. Or as normal as they could be in Mystic Falls.

"Yeah, I finished it," Elorie replied, her tone light but with a hidden layer of exhaustion. She had spent the afternoon carving protection symbols into the walls, trying to ward off any potential threats. The thought of something—or someone—slipping through the cracks still unnerved her.

Caroline wiped her hands on a towel, her enthusiasm never wavering. "Good, because I need to talk to you about the shop. I found this supplier for jewelry, and their stuff is so cute, and I think it would be perfect for the new collection! I mean, if we want to expand, right?"

Elorie couldn’t help but chuckle. Leave it to Caroline to switch from cooking to business talk in the same breath. "Sounds great, Care. I’m down to check it out."

Jenna, stirring the pot, raised an eyebrow, her smile soft. “look at you two. Little entrepreneurs.

The aroma of lasagna filled the room as Elorie and Caroline sat at the kitchen island, forks in hand, their plates already half-empty. Jenna bustled around, cleaning up the remnants of their prep while casually tossing ideas about the upcoming Christmas product launch. They had spent weeks preparing the new jewelry collection, with enchanted items perfect for holiday gifts, and now it was crunch time.

“So, I’m thinking,” Jenna began, wiping her hands on a dish towel, “we could do a special 'Holiday Protection' set. You know, rings, bracelets, maybe a necklace or two. We’ll offer customization—people love that during the holidays.”

Caroline nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! And maybe we can even throw in a little charm for the tree. Like something subtle, but protective, that blends in with the holiday decorations.”

Elorie smiled, her mind already racing with ideas. “I like that. And I could enchant them with protection spells, things that’ll keep bad vibes away from holiday gatherings. You know, ‘tis the season for family drama.”

Jenna chuckled at that, but before she could respond, there was a knock at the door. She glanced at the girls. “You two keep brainstorming. I’ll get it.”

As Jenna walked toward the door, Elorie and Caroline continued to chat in low tones, their excitement for the launch buzzing between them. But they both fell silent as Jenna opened the door, revealing Sheriff Elizabeth Forbes standing on the porch, her expression a mix of patience and slight exasperation.

“Liz, hey,” Jenna greeted, stepping aside to let her in. “Here for Caroline?”

Liz smiled politely and nodded. “Yeah, I thought I’d pick her up. But I’m early. Sorry to interrupt your evening.”

“No interruption at all.” Jenna motioned toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you join us for some food? I’ve got lasagna and wine, plenty to go around.”

Liz hesitated for a moment but then smiled warmly. “Well, if you’re offering…”

As Liz stepped inside, Jenna led her toward the kitchen, where Caroline and Elorie were finishing up their plates. Caroline immediately gave her mom a grin. “You’re early,” she teased. “I thought I had more time.”

Liz chuckled. “I figured I’d spare you the wait. But it looks like you’re all having a good time.” She eyed the lasagna. “Smells amazing.”

“Grab a plate,” Jenna said, already pulling one from the cupboard. “There’s plenty.”

The girls exchanged a glance, knowing that the conversation would soon turn more adult—Liz and Jenna catching up on local gossip or work talk. After a few more minutes of chatting about the Christmas product line, they quietly excused themselves from the table, leaving their plates in the sink before sneaking away toward the magical room they’d been working on.

“We better finish up before Mom gets too comfortable,” Caroline whispered as they tiptoed down the hallway.

The transformation of the office into the ultimate spell room felt like a culmination of everything Elorie had been working toward. The once quaint library space, with its high shelves and dusty books, was now a vibrant, enchanted haven for her magical pursuits. A far cry from the sterile, utilitarian feel it had once held, the room now breathed with life and magic, as if it had been waiting for this change all along. Candles lined the shelves and tables, their flickering flames casting soft, warm light that danced across the walls, bringing a sense of calm and focus. Enzo had laughed when she sent him the picture of what she had in mind, but that hadn’t stopped him from meticulously sourcing all the ingredients and stones she had  requested. The herbal jars, meticulously labeled and filled with everything from pink salt to dried sage, lined one wall, each one standing as a testament to the careful thought Elorie and Caroline had put into the room. It was part apothecary, part spell-crafting sanctuary.

Elorie took a deep breath as she stepped into the room, feeling the familiar buzz of energy that seemed to hum through the walls. “I can’t believe how different it feels in here now,” she murmured, running her fingers along the edge of a dark wooden shelf where bottles of carefully labeled herbs sat. Pink salt, dried mint, lavender, and rosemary—everything she needed for her spells.

The altar in the center of the room was where most of the magic happened, a large wooden table now adorned with pentagrams, mystical cards, and crystals, each one charged with a specific purpose. A brass cauldron sat on the edge of the altar, and beside it, an assortment of gemstones and quartz lay scattered across intricate cloths that displayed detailed astrological charts. Elorie couldn’t help but smile as she ran her fingers over the surface of the table, feeling the pull of the magic in the room. It was a space that felt uniquely hers, a place where she could practice without fear of prying eyes or the judgment of others. The star-shaped pendants hung along the walls like protectors, adding to the serene, yet powerful energy of the space.

Caroline stepped in behind Elorie, her eyes wide as she took in the room once more. "This is so much better than I imagined," she said in awe, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like a whole new world in here.”

Elorie smiled, a surge of pride swelling in her chest as she watched her friend admire their handiwork. “I know, right? It feels... safe, like nothing can touch us in here.”

Caroline nodded, running her hand across the herb jars lined neatly on the shelves. "This place feels like you, El. Every part of it—thoughtful, powerful, and a little mysterious." She grinned, nudging Elorie lightly.

“Thanks,” Elorie murmured, her fingers tracing the outline of the pentagram etched into the altar’s surface. The transformation of this room was more than just an aesthetic upgrade; it felt like a manifestation of her growth, of the control she was starting to find over her powers. It was a place of focus, of learning, of quiet magic.

Caroline wandered toward the altar, picking up one of the tarot cards Elorie had left there. “And Enzo helped with this?” she asked, glancing at the intricate designs woven into the fabric draped across the table.

Elorie chuckled softly. “Helped is one way to put it. He grumbled the entire time about sourcing the right crystals and herbs but still managed to get everything I asked for. Typical Enzo.”

Caroline smirked, setting the card back down carefully. “I still don’t know how you managed to talk him into it. He’s not exactly the ‘let’s craft a witchy haven’ type.”

Elorie shrugged, a playful gleam in her eyes. “He owes me. Besides, he’s all bark. I think secretly he enjoys being part of something that isn’t just chaos and bloodshed.”

Caroline shook her head, laughing softly. “Only you could get a centuries-old vampire to willingly help you build a magic room.”

The flickering candlelight bathed everything in a soft glow, casting dancing shadows across the walls, adding to the mystical aura that seemed to hum through the room.

“Just think Carebear, a few years ago I had almost let my mom bind my powers.”

Chapter Text

As they settled into the new house, each room took on a life of its own. Jenna had a knack for interior design, blending vintage finds with modern touches, while Elorie added her own flair—carefully placing protective charms and herbs in discreet corners, ensuring that each room carried its own quiet layer of magic. The wards she had placed throughout the house hummed with energy, making her feel more secure than ever.

It was a relief to finally feel at home, to walk through the halls without looking over her shoulder or worrying about the hidden dangers that once lurked around every corner. She had woven protection spells into the very fabric of the house, layering them in strategic places. Each doorway, window, and room held a different kind of ward: some to keep out unwanted visitors, others to cloak their activities in secrecy.

After they finished setting up the last of the wards, Jenna stood back, surveying their work with a satisfied smile. “I think we’ve outdone ourselves. This place has real character now,” she said, glancing at Elorie. “Feels like a home.”

Elorie nodded, running her hand over the polished surface of the dining table. “It really does. I finally feel... settled.” She looked around, taking in the warm glow of the lamps, the smell of fresh paint, and the faint, comforting tingle of the wards surrounding them. “Thanks for letting me go a little overboard with the protection spells.”

Jenna laughed, giving her a light nudge. “Are you kidding? I’m grateful. I feel safer here than I ever did in our old place.” She paused, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “You know, I’ve been thinking… we should show off this place a little. What do you say to a small housewarming party? Just a few friends, good food, maybe a little wine. It’ll be nice to fill these rooms with some laughter and life.”

Elorie’s eyes lit up at the idea. “You know, that actually sounds amazing. We could invite Caroline and Liz, maybe some of your friends from work… and I could handle the decorations. Make it feel a little… enchanted.” She grinned, already envisioning how she’d set up candles and little protective charms to make the atmosphere warm and magical.

Jenna clapped her hands together, already in planning mode. “Perfect! I’ll handle the menu. We’ll keep it simple but classy. It’ll be nice to see people in the house, enjoying the space we’ve worked so hard to make ours.”

As the day of the housewarming barbecue arrived, the weight of what she had learned still lingered in the back of her mind, but the house buzzed with a different kind of energy. Jenna was in full host mode, bustling around the kitchen as she prepared an impressive spread of food.

“Ellie, can you check on the grill? Make sure it’s heating up properly?” Jenna called from the kitchen, her voice warm and full of energy.

“On it!” Elorie replied, stepping onto the back porch. The cool evening air brushed her face as she took in the setup outside. The yard looked perfect, with tables and chairs set up under the trees, small lights twinkling above them. It was a simple gathering, but it had that cozy, inviting charm that felt right for their new home.

She walked over to the grill, checking the temperature and adjusting the settings. Everything seemed in order. As she stepped back, she spotted Aunt Miranda and Jeremy arriving through the gate. Jeremy gave her a half-smile, but Miranda’s gaze lingered on the house, her expression pinched as she took it all in.

“This is quite the place, Jenna,” Miranda remarked as she stepped into the yard. Her voice held a clipped edge, one that Elorie had grown used to over the years. “Must have set you back quite a bit.”

Jenna, ever the gracious host, smiled. “We got a great deal,” she replied lightly. “Elorie and I fell in love with the space as soon as we saw it.”

Miranda’s eyes flicked to Elorie, then back to Jenna. “Yes, well, not everyone has the luxury of ‘falling in love’ with a property. Some of us have to be a little more practical.”

Sensing the tension between her aunt and Jenna, Elorie stepped forward, pulling Jeremy into a hug. “Hey, Jer! Glad you could make it.”

Jeremy returned the hug, clearly relieved by the interruption. “Yeah, thanks for inviting us. The place looks… nice.” He cast a glance at his mother, who still seemed to be sizing up the house, her expression one of thinly veiled jealousy.

Miranda’s gaze softened slightly as she turned to Elorie. “I’m sure you’re thrilled, living in such a big, beautiful place. Quite the change.”

Elorie forced a smile, her stomach knotting. “It’s nice. We’ve settled in pretty quickly.”

“Of course you have,” Miranda said with a small, sharp smile. “It must be a dream come true.”

Before the conversation could get more uncomfortable, Caroline arrived with her mother, Sheriff Forbes. Caroline’s arrival was like a burst of sunshine, her energy infectious as she bounced over to Elorie with a tight hug.

“This place is amazing!” Caroline gushed, stepping back to admire the setup. “You’re definitely hosting all the parties from now on.”

Elorie laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll leave that to you, Care. I’m better at sticking to the magic stuff.”

Caroline grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Speaking of which, are you going to show me some new tricks later?”

Elorie smirked. “Maybe after the barbecue. I don’t want to blow anything up just yet.”

As more guests trickled in, the yard filled with the sounds of laughter and conversation. Bonnie and Elena arrived together, Elena offering a somewhat hesitant smile in Elorie’s direction. Elorie returned the smile, grateful for even a small gesture of warmth, but Bonnie’s demeanor was more reserved. Her eyes scanned the house and yard, a flicker of something like suspicion crossing her face, though she kept her expression neutral.

“Glad you could make it,” Elorie said, keeping her tone casual as they approached.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Elena replied, though her voice lacked the enthusiasm it once had. Bonnie, however, stayed quiet, her gaze wandering over the house as if she could feel the hidden wards Elorie had placed throughout the property.

There was a momentary pause, the tension palpable but unspoken. Elorie felt the weight of Bonnie’s quiet observation, her stomach twisting slightly. She knew Bonnie didn’t have any reason to suspect her powers, but the witch’s natural sensitivity to magic was something she couldn’t ignore. Elorie quickly shifted her focus back to the party, determined not to let it bother her.

“Come on, I’ll show you guys around,” Elorie offered, motioning for Elena and Bonnie to follow her. Bonnie hesitated for just a second, her eyes lingering on the house before nodding and following behind.

As the evening wore on, Jeremy, Caroline, and Elorie settled into a game of Uno on the porch. The wooden picnic table was scattered with cards, and the friendly banter between them filled the air with ease. Jeremy was quick to toss down a Draw Four card, earning a dramatic groan from Caroline.

“Seriously? Already?” Caroline protested, though there was a playful glint in her eyes.

“Hey, I play to win,” Jeremy shot back, smirking as he fanned out his remaining cards.

Elorie laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ruthless, Jer.”

While they played, Elorie occasionally glanced over at Bonnie and Elena, who sat by the fire pit, talking quietly. Bonnie’s posture was relaxed, but Elorie noticed the way she kept looking around, her gaze occasionally flicking toward the house. Elorie knew that, even if Bonnie couldn’t pinpoint it, the subtle magic she had woven into the house was likely giving off a strange energy. But without knowing about Elorie’s powers, Bonnie wouldn’t have the full picture—only an uncomfortable feeling she couldn’t quite place.

Elorie shuffled her cards, trying to focus on the game. She didn’t want to dwell on Bonnie’s suspicions. For now, it was enough that the party was going smoothly and that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

As they finished the game, Caroline stretched, yawning dramatically. “Okay, I’m officially starving. Who’s ready for some burgers?”

Elorie grinned, pushing her chair back. “I think the grill’s just about ready. Let’s do it.”

They made their way over to the grill, the smell of sizzling meat wafting through the air. Elorie grabbed the spatula, flipping the last few patties while Jeremy grabbed a plate of buns and cheese from the table.

“So, you’ve become the official grill master now?” Jeremy teased, leaning against the side of the grill.

Elorie shrugged with a smile. “Looks like it. Someone has to make sure you don’t burn the house down.”

Caroline snickered, nudging Jeremy. “Yeah, we all remember your last attempt at grilling.”

Jeremy groaned. “One time! It was one time.”

As they assembled their burgers, the conversation drifted into lighter topics. But Elorie couldn’t help but glance toward Bonnie once more.

Bonnie was sitting by the fire pit, still talking quietly with Elena. The flicker of the flames illuminated their faces, casting long shadows that danced on the ground around them. Though Bonnie seemed relaxed, her eyes kept flicking toward the house as if she was trying to piece together something that didn’t quite fit. Elorie could feel the weight of those glances, and it made her uneasy.

She turned her attention back to the grill, determined not to let Bonnie’s quiet suspicion get to her. “So, who’s ready to taste my masterpiece?” she joked, holding up a perfectly grilled burger for everyone to see.

Caroline rolled her eyes with a grin. “As long as it’s better than Jeremy’s charred hockey pucks from last time, I’m in.”

Jeremy held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll never live that down, will I?”

“Never,” Elorie teased as she placed the burgers onto buns and passed them around. The three of them settled back at the picnic table, the clatter of plates and soft chatter filling the air. It was easy, comfortable—just like old times. Elorie allowed herself to relax a little, letting the warmth of the fire and the laughter of her friends drown out the unease.

As they ate, Caroline leaned closer to Elorie, lowering her voice. “Are you okay? You seem a little... distracted tonight.”

Elorie hesitated, glancing around before answering. “It’s just... Bonnie,” she admitted quietly. “I feel like she senses something, even though she doesn’t know about... you know, all of this.” She gestured vaguely around the house, referring to the wards and the magic that filled their lives now.

Caroline chewed her lip, nodding. “Bonnie’s always been intuitive. Maybe she’s just picking up on the energy around here. The house feels... different.”

“I’ve tried to keep everything low-key,” Elorie said, glancing at the windows of her newly warded home. “But I guess it’s hard to completely hide that kind of thing from someone like Bonnie.”

Caroline’s hand found hers under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this, El. It’s your house. You’re protecting it the best way you know how. And if Bonnie asks questions, we’ll deal with it. But for now, lets just focus on enjoying the night.”

Elorie smiled, squeezing Caroline’s hand back. “Thanks, Care.”

They continued eating in companionable silence, the tension slowly ebbing away. Around them, the fire crackled, and the evening air grew cooler, filled with the sounds of crickets and the occasional hum of conversation. The night had settled in comfortably, the party still buzzing with warmth and easy conversation. But Elorie couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It wasn’t just the occasional glance Bonnie shot her way or the subtle tension she felt whenever their eyes met—it was something deeper, something she couldn’t put into words. So when Bonnie approached her, asking where the bathroom was, Elorie knew there was more to it.

“There’s one in the pool house,” Elorie said, forcing a smile as she gestured for Bonnie to follow her. “It’s quieter over there.”

They walked across the yard in silence, the soft glow of the firepit growing fainter as they moved toward the pool house. The sound of crickets filled the air, a steady rhythm that matched the uneasy thrum in Elorie’s chest. She pushed the door open, flicking on the light as they stepped inside.

“Bathroom’s just through here,” Elorie said, motioning toward the back.

But before Bonnie could take another step, she reached out and grabbed Elorie’s hand. The contact sent a jolt through Elorie, and for a split second, she feared the worst—that she’d lose control and accidentally siphon Bonnie’s magic. But she steadied herself, breathing through the shock as her training kicked in. She didn’t siphon, not even a flicker of energy escaped her. Still, Bonnie’s grip tightened as she stared at Elorie, her expression a mix of confusion and suspicion.

“Elorie, what is going on?” Bonnie’s voice was firm, edged with frustration. “Every time I’m around you, things get... weird. I can feel it. And it’s not just me. My grandmother... she’s been acting strange ever since that day we fainted at lunch. She won’t tell me anything, but I know it’s connected to you.”

Elorie’s heart pounded in her chest. The memory of that day—how both she and Bonnie had passed out during lunch—had haunted her ever since. She’d pushed it to the back of her mind, hoping that whatever had caused it would stay buried, but Bonnie wasn’t going to let it go.

“Bonnie, I—” Elorie hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. She’d worked so hard to keep her abilities hidden, even from the people closest to her. Especially from Bonnie, whose own magic was far more advanced than she let on.

“Don’t lie to me,” Bonnie pressed, her voice softer now but no less insistent. “I can feel it, Elorie. There’s something off about you—about this house, about everything. It’s like... like you’re hiding something. And after that lunch... I knew. I just knew it had something to do with you.”

Elorie swallowed hard, her mind racing for an explanation that wouldn’t put Bonnie at risk. She could still feel Bonnie’s magic humming through the connection of their hands, powerful and unyielding. “Bonnie, I can’t explain everything,” she said quietly, pulling her hand free gently. “But... these are definitely things you should ask your grandmother about. Things she should explain to you.”

Bonnie’s eyes narrowed slightly, her frustration evident. “You keep saying that, Elorie. But what if she’s not telling me everything either? What if she’s hiding something too?”

Elorie hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew Sheila Bennett—Bonnie’s grandmother—was a powerful witch and likely had her reasons for keeping things from Bonnie. But Elorie also knew that if Bonnie kept digging, she would eventually uncover the truth. “Your grandmother knows more than anyone else in this town. Trust her, Bonnie. She’s trying to protect you.”

"Look, I—" Bonnie cut herself off, her voice faltering for a moment. She shifted uncomfortably, as if unsure whether to continue. "I'm sorry Elena and I have been... well, kind of dicks to you this whole time."

Elorie blinked, taken aback by the sudden apology. “Bonnie—"

"I really liked you in the beginning, you know,” Bonnie continued, her voice softer now, tinged with regret. “I wanted to be your friend. But there was just something... off about you. Like I could sense something, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. And it freaked me out.”

Elorie’s chest tightened. She had felt the distance growing between them, but hearing Bonnie admit to it stung in a way she hadn’t expected. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Elorie said, her voice quieter now. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. Especially you.”

Bonnie nodded, her expression softening. “I know. But it’s hard, Elorie. There’s this feeling like... like there’s this invisible line between us now. And every time we’re around each other, I just feel like something’s pulling at me, trying to figure you out.”

Elorie shifted, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. The energy between them was thick, charged with unspoken words and a tension neither of them could fully explain. “I’m still figuring myself out too, Bonnie. I don’t have all the answers. But I never wanted to be your enemy. I never wanted any of this to be weird.”

Bonnie looked at her for a long moment, her gaze softening but still tinged with uncertainty. “Then help me understand, Elorie. Whatever it is... just help me understand.”

Elorie swallowed hard, her mind racing for an explanation that wouldn’t put Bonnie at risk. She could still feel Bonnie’s magic humming through the connection of their hands, powerful and unyielding. “Bonnie, I can’t explain everything,” she said quietly, pulling her hand free gently. “But... these are definitely things you should ask your grandmother about. Things she should explain to you.”

Bonnie’s eyes narrowed slightly, her frustration evident. “You keep saying that, Elorie. But what if she’s not telling me everything either? What if she’s hiding something too?”

Elorie hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew Sheila Bennett—Bonnie’s grandmother—was a powerful witch and likely had her reasons for keeping things from Bonnie. But Elorie also knew that if Bonnie kept digging, she would eventually uncover the truth. “Your grandmother knows more than anyone else in this town. Trust her, Bonnie. She’s trying to protect you.”

"Look, I—" Bonnie cut herself off, her voice faltering for a moment. She shifted uncomfortably, as if unsure whether to continue. "I'm sorry Elena and I have been... well, kind of dicks to you this whole time."

Elorie blinked, taken aback by the sudden apology. “Bonnie—"

"I really liked you in the beginning, you know,” Bonnie continued, her voice softer now, tinged with regret. “I wanted to be your friend. But there was just something... off about you. Like I could sense something, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. And it freaked me out.”

Elorie’s chest tightened. She had felt the distance growing between them, but hearing Bonnie admit to it stung in a way she hadn’t expected. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Elorie said, her voice quieter now. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. Especially you.”

Bonnie nodded, her expression softening. “I know. But it’s hard, Elorie. There’s this feeling like... like there’s this invisible line between us now. And every time we’re around each other, I just feel like something’s pulling at me, trying to figure you out.”

Elorie shifted, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. The energy between them was thick, charged with unspoken words and a tension neither of them could fully explain. “I’m still figuring myself out too, Bonnie. I don’t have all the answers. But I never wanted to be your enemy. I never wanted any of this to be weird.”

Bonnie looked at her for a long moment, her gaze softening but still tinged with uncertainty. “Then help me understand, Elorie. Whatever it is... just help me understand.”

Elorie hesitated, her heart heavy. She wanted to, more than anything, but the truth was dangerous. Elorie’s thoughts spun in a chaotic loop. Every instinct screamed to keep her secret, to shield Bonnie from the truth that had weighed on her shoulders for so long. Bonnie deserved a chance to be normal. That was probably why Sheila had kept the knowledge from her, so she could have a chance, so she could be normal. And she craved that sometimes too, a chance to be normal. But that door was long closed for her. And now she had a voice, quieter but persistent, whispering that maybe—just maybe—Bonnie deserved to know. Deserved the chance to understand what was happening around them, between them.

But could she trust her?

Elorie looked at Bonnie, really looked at her. The furrow in her brow, the uncertainty in her eyes. Despite everything that had driven a wedge between them—Elena’s coldness, the mistrust, the distance—they had been friends once. And Bonnie wasn’t the enemy. She never had been. But telling her... about her lineage, her abilities, and the chaos that followed in its wake? That was a gamble Elorie wasn’t sure she could make.

The silence stretched between them like a wire pulled tight, and Elorie’s heart pounded as she weighed her options.

“I... I want to tell you everything, Bonnie. I do,” Elorie finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s complicated. And dangerous. There are people—things—that are that so much more dangerous than you know. If you knew... it could put you in the middle of something you might not be ready for.”

Bonnie crossed her arms, the frustration and hurt in her eyes still evident. “I feel like I’m already in the middle of it, Elorie. You know… I’d have these weird dreams about your house so I’d bike pass almost everyday. And I don’t even know why. I thought… it was fate trying to tell me to make up with you. But I couldn’t even bring myself to. And then you move. And I think great. But I come here, and I feel it. I feel something calling to me from your house.”

Bonnie stepped closer to Elorie, “Things  have been changing, around town, around you. I can feel it in the air. My grandmother is... I don’t even know what’s going on with her lately, and it all started after that day we passed out in school. So, yeah, I think I’m already involved. You’re not protecting me by keeping me in the dark.”

Elorie swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Bonnie’s words. She wasn’t wrong. And yet, there was Sheila Bennett, hovering like a shadow over all of this. Her voice, stern and unyielding, echoed in Elorie’s mind: Siphons are dangerous, Elorie. You must control what you are—or I will control it for you.

She glanced toward the window, biting her lip. “Your grandmother... she’s doing what she thinks is best. I think she’s trying to keep you safe. But I can’t speak for her, Bonnie. All I know is that she’s powerful. She knows things that... that I don’t.”

Bonnie took a step closer, her voice firmer now. “And what about you? What do you know, Elorie? You keep talking about my grandmother, but what about the weirdness that seems to follow you around? The spells, the strange energy... is it something to do with you?”

The question hit harder than Elorie expected, and for a moment, she considered everything she’d been hiding. Her lineage. The grimoire that had belonged to Bonnie’s family. Her siphoning abilities, the magic that coursed through her veins, always just beneath the surface, waiting to be tapped.

Could she trust Bonnie with the truth? Could she really risk it?

Elorie took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet Bonnie’s gaze. “Yes,” she said slowly, her voice trembling just a bit. “It has everything to do with me. But it’s more than that. It’s about the world we live in, the magic that’s all around us. And what I am... it’s not something you can just explain away in a single conversation.”

Bonnie’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. “So you... you have magic? Like my grandmother?”

Elorie’s heart pounded, her throat tight. She was teetering on the edge of a decision that could change everything. Her voice was barely a whisper when she answered. “Not exactly like your grandmother. It’s... different. What I can do... it’s not the same as regular magic.”

Bonnie took a step back, processing the information, her face a mixture of shock and curiosity. “What does that even mean?”

Elorie opened her mouth, the words almost ready to spill out—the truth of her siphoning powers, the dark nature of her abilities, and the fact that Bonnie’s grandmother had been wary of her from the beginning. But something stopped her. Maybe it was the fear of how Bonnie would react, or maybe it was the feeling that once the truth was out, there would be no going back.

“You have to trust me, Bonnie,” Elorie said, her voice pleading. “Just... talk to your grandmother. Ask her about your family’s history, about magic. She knows more than you think. And if you still want answers after that... come find me.”

Bonnie stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. She looked as though she wanted to argue, to demand more, but in the end, she just nodded. “Okay,” she said, though the reluctance in her voice was clear. “But this isn’t over, Elorie. I’m not going to stop asking questions. And you owe me some real answers.”

Elorie nodded, her heart heavy but relieved that Bonnie hadn’t pushed further. “I know.”

Bonnie turned to leave, but before she disappeared outside the pool house, she glanced back at Elorie one last time. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I hope you’re not in over your head. Be careful, okay?”

Elorie gave her a small, tight smile. “I will. You too.”

As Bonnie’s footsteps echoed down the hall, Elorie stood frozen, her breath shallow. The weight of the conversation hung heavily in the air, and her mind raced with the consequences of what just happened. She could still feel the lingering tension between them, the unresolved questions, and the thin thread of trust Bonnie had given her. Elorie leaned against the wall, running her hands over her face. She hadn’t expected Bonnie to confront her, not like this, and certainly not to find out the dang grimoire calling to her. The possibility of the Bennett ancestors reaching out, tugging at the delicate fabric of her carefully constructed barrier, sent a ripple of fear through her.

A small part of her wondered if maybe it was time to give it back to its rightful owner, to stop keeping secrets from Bonnie. But she knew that once she handed over the grimoire, everything would change. Possibly even tipping them in Sheila’s favour. Which is something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.  

Steeling herself, Elorie straightened and made her way back to the backyard to the rest of the group. She could still feel the weight of her conversation with Bonnie lingering on her shoulders, but for now, she needed to focus on the here and now. There would be time to deal with the rest later.

As she neared where Caroline and Jeremy were seated, Caroline waved her over. “Hey, what took you so long? We’re about to start another round of Uno.”

Elorie forced a smile, grateful for the distraction. “Just needed some air,” she said, sliding into a seat at the table. She could still feel the tension in her chest, but she pushed it down for now. There was no point in worrying about what might happen. Not yet.

Jeremy glanced over at her, “Everything alright?”

Elorie nodded, reaching for the cards. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just... a bit of indigestion, you know?”

Jeremy didn’t press further, and for that, Elorie was thankful. As the game began, the familiar rhythm of shuffling cards and playful banter filled the room, drowning out the noise in her head. The party wound down quickly after that, the guests sensing that something had shifted and taking their leave with quiet goodbyes. After everyone left, the house was eerily quiet. The soft clinking of dishes in the kitchen as Caroline and Sheriff Forbes helped clean up was the only sound that filled the space. Elorie sank into the couch, her body still buzzing from the aftereffects of the panic attack, though she was starting to feel more herself again. Jenna sat down next to her, the weight of concern evident in her eyes.

Chapter Text

Bonnie hadn't been in school all week, and while people around her seemed to dismiss it as no big deal, the nagging discomfort in Elorie’s gut refused to subside. Jeremy had mentioned overhearing Elena telling their mom that Bonnie was sick—some kind of flu or cold. It seemed plausible enough, but something about it felt... off.

The feeling that crawled in her bones was quieter, more subtle, but it clawed at her, tugging at the edge of her consciousness like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

What if it had something to do with their last conversation? That confrontation in the pool house—the moment Bonnie had grabbed her hand, demanding answers. Had Bonnie gone digging into something she shouldn’t have? Or worse… had Sheila Bennett, decided to intervene? 

Elorie's finger hovered over the phone, urging her to call Enzo... but call him and say what exactly? She didn't even know what to say. The thoughts twisted through Elorie's mind like a storm, relentless and loud. She paced the living room, gnawing on her bottom lip, trying to make sense of the growing unease gnawing at her insides. It was plaguing her, making her restless. She couldn’t shake the sensation that something had shifted. Maybe she needed to clear her head with a walk, or at the very least distract herself.

Jenna’s voice drifted from the kitchen, light and carefree as she chatted with Caroline, who had stayed over for dinner. They were talking about cheerleading, about school, about anything and everything normal. But Elorie wasn’t in the mood for normal.

Elorie grabbed her jacket from the chair, slipping quietly out the back door. The evening air was sharp, biting against her skin as she crinkled her nose at the sudden cold. A shiver ran down her spine, the hairs on her arms prickling—not just from the chill, but from something else. Something familiar. It reminded her of the first time she’d stepped into the old antique store and felt that subtle, uneasy hum in the air—the unmistakable presence of magic.

She’d felt this same hum the moment they’d moved in, a strange pulse of energy just beneath the surface. At first, she brushed it off, assuming it was the residual effect of the protection wards she’d placed around the house. But now… now it was different. It had grown stronger, more insistent, like it wasn’t just a lingering trace of magic but something alive, something reaching out, trying to get her attention.

Her steps slowed as she approached the tree line at the edge of the property, the feeling intensifying with each step. The cold wasn’t just external now; it was inside her, threading through her veins with every beat of her heart. She paused, listening. The air was thick with silence, but underneath it, the hum pulsed—steady, persistent.

It was stronger now, guiding her, calling to her from deep within the trees at the edge of the property. Her heart pounded with a mix of curiosity and unease. The magic felt ancient, far older than anything she’d encountered before. It wasn’t malevolent, but it wasn’t kind either. It was simply... there. Waiting. As Elorie made her way toward the woods behind her home, the feeling intensified, like a low hum reverberating in her bones. The trees loomed tall and silent, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. She hesitated at the tree line, her instincts screaming at her to turn back, to leave whatever this was alone. But the pull was insistent, tugging her forward.

Elorie wandered further into the backyard, her feet carrying her almost on autopilot. The sprawling property had been a haven for her over the past few months, a place where she could practice her magic in peace or simply sit in the quiet when life felt overwhelming. She made her way toward the edge of the woods, her fingers brushing absentmindedly against the bark of the trees. The sun was beginning to set, casting a soft, orange glow across the horizon.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself before stepping into the trees.

The further she walked, the stranger it felt. The magic wasn’t wild like she’d expected—it was focused, directed. It had a purpose. Her fingers twitched with the need to draw a protection sigil, to ward herself against whatever lay ahead. But that wouldn’t stop the pull. It had latched onto her, wrapping itself around her like an invisible thread, dragging her deeper into the forest.

Then she saw it.

Elorie stepped cautiously into the clearing, her breath catching in her throat. It was small and unremarkable at first glance, but the energy here… it was palpable, almost overwhelming. In the center, a large, flat stone jutted out from the earth, its surface carved with intricate symbols that seemed to ripple as she stared at them. They weren’t like any magical runes she had ever seen—nothing from the grimoires or books she’d studied. The symbols seemed to shift under her gaze, twisting and morphing in ways that made her head spin.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a step closer. Her boots crunched against the dead leaves, but the sound felt swallowed by the stillness of the space. Nothing moved here. No rustle of animals, no whisper of wind through the trees. It was unnervingly quiet.

Her eyes fixed on the stone again, her heart thudding in her chest. It looked like some kind of marker, maybe a grave—something forced into the ground without care. The idea sent a chill crawling up her spine. What was buried here?

Elorie crouched down, running her fingers along the edge of the stone, careful not to touch the symbols directly. The air felt wrong here, thick and oppressive, like the space itself was holding its breath. It was as if everything living had been driven away, leaving behind only this lingering magic—cold, ancient, and menacing.

She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. What is this?

Cautiously, Elorie approached the stone, feeling the weight of the magic pressing down on her like a heavy blanket. The air around it felt dense, thick with the residue of old spells. She knelt beside the stone, her fingers tracing the edges of the runes without touching them. They felt alive, buzzing with a low hum of power that made her skin prickle.

It was unsettling—this source of magic that wasn’t hers, yet it called to her like it belonged to her. She didn’t want to be anywhere near it, and yet she couldn’t leave it alone.

A rustling sound behind her made her spin, her breath catching in her throat. But there was no one there. Just the trees, standing tall and silent. She exhaled slowly, her eyes darting around the clearing.

Elorie reached into her pocket and pulled out a small blade—one she always kept on her for emergencies. If this magic was as old and strange as it felt, she couldn’t take any chances. She moved to the nearest tree and began carving protective runes into its bark, her movements swift and precise. The blade sliced through the wood easily, leaving behind symbols meant to deter anyone who might come too close. She worked quickly, moving from tree to tree, creating a perimeter around the clearing.

As she carved, she muttered an incantation under her breath, layering the protection with a spell to ensure no one—magical or otherwise—would stumble across this place. Not Jenna, not Caroline, not anyone. She didn’t know what this magic was, but she knew it was dangerous. It needed to stay hidden.

The last rune was carved, and Elorie stepped back, her chest heaving from the effort. The air felt different now, less oppressive. But the stone in the clearing still hummed, still pulsed with a power that made her skin crawl. She didn’t want to touch it, but she knew she had to. She needed answers.

Slowly, she reached out, her hand hovering over the stone for a moment before she placed her palm flat against its cold surface.

A shock of magic surged through her, shooting up her arm and spreading through her body like wildfire. Her vision blurred, the world around her spinning as flashes of images assaulted her mind—shadows moving through the trees, whispers in a language she didn’t understand, a figure standing by the stone, chanting.

She yanked her hand away, stumbling back, her heart racing. The images faded, but the feeling of the magic remained, crackling under her skin. She stared at the stone, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

What the hell was that?

The magic had shown her something—something ancient and forgotten. But what? And why had it called to her?

Elorie’s mind raced as she backed away from the clearing, her eyes never leaving the stone. She had to figure out what this was, what it meant. But for now, she needed distance. She needed to think.

As she made her way back to the house, the protective runes she’d carved glowed faintly in the dim light, warding the area from any unwanted visitors. Whatever that magic was, it was dangerous. And now it was tied to her.

The unease settled deep in her bones, but there was something else too—something far more troubling.

Why did the magic feel familiar?

As Elorie entered week two without hearing from Bonnie, her uneasiness had transformed into something closer to paranoia. Every time she walked through the house, every time she glanced out the window toward that strange spot in the woods, the tension in her chest tightened. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her, waiting. The air around her felt heavier, as if the very atmosphere had thickened with an invisible weight pressing down. It wasn’t just the feeling—it was a presence. Something dark, insidious, and infecting her mind like a poison. The nightmares had grown worse, more vivid and visceral than anything even the Bennett Ancestors could have conjured. Every time she closed her eyes, she was drawn back to that clearing, to the stone with its shifting runes. It beckoned to her, flooding her with an overwhelming sense of false comfort, whispering promises that if she just went back—if she lay her hands on that rock a little longer—everything would be fine.

But Elorie didn’t trust it. Not for a second.

It was a trap, and she knew it. The pull toward that spot felt wrong, like something trying to worm its way into her mind and convince her that giving in would somehow make things easier. She had felt magic before, good and bad, but this… this was different. It was heavy, almost suffocating, and every instinct in her screamed to stay away. Yet, despite her resistance, the whispers crept into her thoughts, growing louder with each passing day. The worst part wasn’t even the dreams, it was the moments in between. When she was awake, the sensation lingered—an itch just beneath the surface, urging her to return to the clearing. To submit. To let go. The thought alone made her skin crawl, but she couldn't deny the growing presence in her mind, like fingers curling around her thoughts, squeezing.

She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t real, that whatever it was trying to promise her couldn’t be trusted. But the longer it went on, the harder it was becoming to hold onto that resolve.

She had tried to reach out to her mother in a moment of desperation, sending Diana an email with a photo of the spot in the woods, hoping for some insight or advice. The reply, however, was cold and indifferent—the email client notifying her that the message had been deleted without being read. Typical. Diana had essentially abandoned her yet again, leaving her to fend for herself. She tried recasting the spell Dianna had given her but whatever had sunk its hooks into her now seemed stronger. More malignant than anything she’d come in contact with so far.

She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t real, that whatever it was trying to promise her couldn’t be trusted. But the longer it went on, the harder it was becoming to hold onto that resolve.

Elorie sighed, running her fingers through her hair, tension radiating through her body.

Frustrated and feeling more isolated than ever, Elorie turned to the one person she knew might actually do something—Enzo. She sent him a picture of the stone, the runes etched into its surface, and texted it to him with a brief explanation. If anyone could find out what this was, it was him.

Enzo's reply came quickly:
I’ll ask around, see what I can dig up. Might take a bit—but I’ve got some contacts who know more about ancient magic than I do.

It wasn’t exactly the reassurance she was hoping for, but it was something. At least Enzo was trying, which was more than she could say for anyone else.

And while she couldn’t stop the nightmares, she could at least hide them from Jenna. A silencing spell on her room kept her nightly terrors contained, quieting the screams and restless thrashing so they wouldn’t echo through the house. It was a small comfort, knowing Jenna didn’t have to worry, but it did little to ease the exhaustion that weighed heavier on Elorie with each passing night.

The lack of sleep was starting to take a physical toll on her. Dark circles etched themselves beneath her eyes, and her usual sharpness dulled. At school, it wasn’t long before someone noticed. The cheerleading captain had pulled her aside after practice one day, concerned about Elorie’s slipping grades and unfocused demeanor. Elorie had been suspended from the team, at least until she could pull herself together.

Keeping that part hidden from Jenna had been much harder. Jenna was already stretched thin with a new campaign she was working on, and Elorie knew the last thing she needed was another thing to worry about. So, she had thrown herself into her schoolwork, trying to fix the damage before Jenna caught on. It wasn’t enough to shake the nightmares, but at least it was something she could control.

That’s how she found herself sitting by the windowsill late at night, history books scattered around her, trying to stay awake by studying. The faint light from the night light cast shadows across the pages, the words swimming in front of her tired eyes as she struggled to focus. Every now and then, her gaze would drift to the window, toward the woods, toward that clearing where it all started.

She knew she needed to find answers, to figure out what had sunk its claws into her mind. But as the days dragged on, as her grip on her own thoughts seemed to slip further, the fear gnawing at her chest grew stronger.

How long could she keep this from Jenna? How long before the pull became too strong?

Elorie rubbed her eyes and forced herself to focus on the textbook in front of her, the ancient wars and treaties blurring together as she fought to stay alert. She had a History test next week and she needed to learn this material quickly.

The hallway bustled with noise, lockers slamming shut as students hurried off to lunch or their next class. Elorie lingered near her desk, stuffing her history test into her bag, eyes flicking to Bonnie who stood a few feet away, her usual smile noticeably absent. Bonnie had returned after a brief absence, acting as normal as possible under the circumstances, but there was something in her demeanor today—something that felt heavier than usual.

“Elorie, can we talk?” Bonnie asked quietly, glancing over her shoulder to where Elena and Caroline stood waiting.

Elena raised an eyebrow, clearly curious, but when Bonnie waved them off, they hesitated before heading down the hall without a word. The room quickly emptied, leaving just the two of them. Elorie felt a twinge of nervousness stir in her gut.

Bonnie took a deep breath, stepping closer, her voice a little quieter now. “I know about your family... about what you are.”

Elorie’s heart skipped a beat, her fingers instinctively tightening around the strap of her bag. “What... what exactly do you know?” she asked, her voice steady but her mind racing.

"My grandmother told me," Bonnie said, her words coming out in a rush. “She didn’t want to at first, but when I threatened to come to you myself, she gave in. She told me you’re a witch, too. A siphoner, I think she called it. She said—” Bonnie paused, her eyes darkening. “She said you're evil, Elorie. She warned me not to talk to you, said that witches like you are dangerous.”

Elorie felt the blood drain from her face, a cold chill creeping up her spine. She had expected something like this, but hearing it said out loud still stung, sharp and deep.

Bonnie’s brow furrowed as she searched Elorie’s face. “Did you ask for that? To be born this way?” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, just... curious. Sad. “And if you didn’t, why does that make you evil? Who decides that some witches are just born wrong?”

Elorie’s chest tightened, the weight of Bonnie’s words settling heavily on her. It was a question she’d asked herself a thousand times. Why did everyone treat her magic like a curse? Why was she branded as evil for something she couldn’t control?

“I—” Elorie struggled for the right words, then let out a soft, shaky breath. “No, Bonnie, I didn’t ask for this. I never wanted to be... this. And I don’t hate witches, not really.” She ran a hand through her hair, her voice quiet but resolute. “I just want to be left alone. I’ve never used my magic to hurt anyone. I just use it to protect myself... to survive.”

Bonnie’s eyes softened, a flicker of understanding crossing her features. “That’s what I thought,” she said, stepping closer. “I don’t think you’re evil. I don’t even know what that means anymore. But... if all witches treated you the way my grandmother talked about you, I get why you might hate them.”

Elorie looked down at her hands, the tension slowly easing from her shoulders. “I don’t hate them,” she said again, her voice firmer this time. “I just... I didn’t ask for any of this, Bonnie. And the last thing I want is to be dragged into something I didn’t choose. I just want to live my life.”

Bonnie nodded, biting her lip as she glanced toward the empty classroom door, then back to Elorie. “I get it,” she said quietly. “My grandma... she’s going to start teaching me magic. The basics. But she made me promise not to tell anyone—not Elena, not Caroline, no one.”

Elorie’s gaze snapped to Bonnie’s, eyes widening. “You’re learning magic?”

Bonnie nodded, her expression conflicted. “I am. But it feels... lonely. Scary. I don’t know who to talk to about it, and I don’t want to lie to Elena or Caroline. But... I also can’t tell them.”

Elorie nodded, understanding more than Bonnie could know. Keeping secrets was practically second nature by now. “It’s hard,” she murmured. “Being different. Carrying that weight alone.”

Bonnie looked down, then back up at Elorie, her face hopeful but tentative. “Do you think... maybe we could be secret friends?” she asked, her voice soft, almost shy. “I mean, not because I want to hide it, but because... I don’t want to be alone in this. And you’re the only one who understands.”

Elorie blinked, her heart tugging at the vulnerability in Bonnie’s voice. The girl who had once looked at her with suspicion now seemed... different. Honest.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Elorie’s lips. “Secret friends, huh?”

Bonnie nodded, her eyes hopeful. “Yeah. I don’t want to keep secrets from everyone, but... I need someone I can talk to about this. Someone who gets it.”

Elorie’s smile grew a little wider, something warm settling in her chest despite everything. “I think I can handle that.”

Bonnie grinned, relief flooding her face. “Good. Because I’m going to need help. A lot of help.”

Elorie laughed softly. “I’ve got your back. But you know... no one can find out.”

“Not a soul,” Bonnie agreed, a conspiratorial smile on her face.

Elorie chuckled, the sound light but sincere. “Trust me, you’re not alone. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Bonnie grinned, relief softening her features. “So... secret friends?”

Elorie laughed, her tension finally easing. “Secret friends.”

Chapter Text

Enzo

Enzo stood in the middle of a quaint little shop in Tokyo, surrounded by a collection of delicate charms, handcrafted earrings, and necklaces that shimmered under the warm lights. He turned a pair of earrings over in his hand, inspecting the craftsmanship before setting them aside. Caroline would appreciate the sparkle, and for Elorie, he had chosen something more subtle, a piece that suited her perfectly—a small moonstone charm. For Jenna, he picked out a simple yet elegant necklace, one that reminded him of her understated grace.

As he mulled over the choices, Aiko had slipped outside to take a call. He had met her not long ago—an old vampire, centuries deep in knowledge and experience. They’d bonded quickly, their shared wit and charm drawing them together, and she had become his companion in Japan, showing him the old haunts and hidden treasures of the country.

The bell above the door jingled softly as Aiko re-entered the shop. She looked more energized than when she had stepped out, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

“What’s that look for?” Enzo asked, raising an eyebrow as he handed the shopkeeper a pair of earrings for Caroline.

Aiko grinned, walking over to him, her steps graceful and effortless, as always. “I’ve got something fun for you,” she teased, picking up one of the necklaces he had been looking at and twirling it between her fingers.

Enzo tilted his head, intrigued. “Oh? What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” she said smoothly. “Just a... unique opportunity.” She paused, clearly savoring whatever she was about to say. “I’ve got a friend in town, and I think you might like to meet him.”

Enzo chuckled, his brow arching. “Another one of your vampire friends?”

“Mmm, something like that,” Aiko replied, her eyes twinkling. “This one’s a bit more special, though. Let’s just say he’s been around even longer than I have.”

Enzo let out a low whistle, his interest fully captured. He had no idea exactly how old Aiko was, guessing somewhere between six hundred to eight hundred years but she had made it clear she had lived through centuries. If her friend was even older, that meant they were likely full of stories and secrets he couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“Older than you? Now I’m intrigued,” he admitted. “How old are we talking?”

Aiko leaned in slightly, her voice dropping as if she were sharing a secret too delicious to speak out loud. “Nearly a thousand years, give or take.”

Enzo’s eyebrows shot up. A thousand years? He’d met some old vampires in his time, but that number was staggering.

“A thousand? Bloody hell, how does one survive that long without going mad?” Enzo asked, half-joking but half-genuinely curious.

Aiko chuckled softly. “Oh, he’s had his moments, trust me. But what makes him interesting is how he’s adapted over time. He’s seen everything—worlds rise and fall, empires crumble, and he’s managed to stay ahead of the curve. You think I’ve got stories? His make mine seem like bedtime tales.”

Enzo crossed his arms, his curiosity now burning brighter. “So, what’s the catch? Why introduce me to this ancient vampire now?”

Aiko’s eyes glimmered with mischief. “No catch. I just think you two might get along. He’s a bit... rough around the edges, but then again, so are you.”

Enzo chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“Flattered,” Aiko said with a wink. “And besides, you could use the company. You’ve been obsessing over Damon for too long. Maybe this will give you some perspective. My friend... well, let’s just say he knows a thing or two about betrayal and lost causes.”

That gave Enzo pause. “He does, does he?”

“Trust me,” Aiko said, placing a hand on his arm. “He’s not someone you meet every day. He’s in town for a short while, and I think hearing his stories might help you more than you realize.”

Enzo glanced back at the charms and necklaces, his mind racing. This wasn’t what he expected when he came to Japan, but the idea of meeting someone so ancient, with stories that spanned centuries, was too tempting to pass up.

“Well,” Enzo said, a grin tugging at his lips. “Consider me interested. When do I meet him?”

Aiko’s grin mirrored his own, her excitement clear. “Tonight. I’ll take you to him.”

Enzo nodded, feeling a strange sense of anticipation stir in his chest. Whoever this mysterious vampire was, meeting him could be the distraction he needed. After months of chasing Damon’s shadow, this encounter might offer him something unexpected—a new perspective, or at the very least, some interesting conversation.

“Alright,” Enzo said, feeling the weight of the decision lift off his shoulders. “Let’s meet this friend of yours.”

Aiko’s grin widened as she turned to lead him out of the shop. “You won’t regret it, Enzo. This guy has lived a life you can’t even begin to imagine.”

Enzo followed her out, his curiosity fully ignited. He had no idea what to expect, but for the first time in months, he felt a spark of excitement. Whoever this mysterious vampire was, he was about to step into a world far older and darker than he had ever known.

Enzo followed Aiko through the winding streets of Tokyo, the glow of neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement as they turned down an alleyway that looked like it led to nowhere. It wasn’t the type of place you’d expect to find a luxury bar, but that’s what intrigued Enzo about Japan—everything seemed to have a secret door, a hidden world beneath the surface.

They came to a door tucked between two non-descript buildings. Aiko pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit interior. The low hum of conversation greeted them, but there was something else in the air—a scent. The unmistakable tang of blood. Enzo’s senses flared, his eyes narrowing as they entered the space.

The bar itself was a strange juxtaposition of luxury and indulgence. Sleek black leather booths lined the walls, while two topless dancers moved languidly in the center of the room, their skin catching the soft light as they swayed to the slow, pulsing beat of the music. It wasn’t crowded, but every patron seemed... different. Predatory. The air buzzed with a kind of dark, hedonistic energy.

Aiko shot him a grin, clearly pleased with his reaction. “Welcome to one of Tokyo’s best-kept secrets. A club for people like us.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, glancing around as they made their way to the bar. The bartender, a tall man with a carefully groomed beard, barely needed a signal from Aiko before he placed two murky cocktails in front of them.

“Don’t worry,” Aiko whispered, picking up her glass. “It’s safe. Mostly.” She winked before taking a sip.

Enzo chuckled softly, lifting the glass to his lips. The cocktail was thick and sweet with a metallic bite. Blood, infused with something else. Something that made it even more... palatable. He smirked, feeling the energy of the place wash over him. This was definitely not the kind of club he’d expected, but it suited Aiko.

“Come on,” she said, nudging him playfully. “He’s over there.”

She led the way to a shadowed booth tucked in the far corner of the room. The booth itself was bathed in low light, almost too dark to make out the figure sitting within. But as they approached, Enzo could see him—a man lounging with casual grace, one arm resting on the back of the booth, the other holding a glass of dark liquor. His posture was relaxed, but there was an intensity about him, an air of dominance that immediately commanded the room.

He was dressed impeccably, a dark, tailored jacket over a black shirt, the collar undone just enough to give him an effortless, almost dangerous charm. His hair was a mess of dirty blonde curls, his features sharp and angular, with eyes that gleamed under the low light—blue, but not the icy kind. There was warmth there, buried beneath layers of control and authority, but it was fleeting. What struck Enzo most was the power that radiated off him in waves, subtle but undeniable. This was a man who had lived through centuries and walked out unscathed.

Aiko slid into the booth beside him, her movements graceful and unhurried. She leaned in close, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder as she introduced them. “Klaus, this is Enzo. Enzo, meet Klaus, a man with more stories than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Klaus’s eyes flicked to Enzo, and for a brief moment, Enzo felt as though he was being assessed, weighed. Klaus’s gaze was piercing, as if he could see right through him, right down to his core. But then the corner of Klaus’s mouth lifted in a smile—charming, dangerous, and oddly welcoming.

“Enzo,” Klaus drawled, his voice smooth and accented, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

Enzo tilted his head, intrigued by the way Klaus spoke. There was an effortless confidence in his voice, as if he had all the time in the world—because he did. He slid into the booth across from them, leaning back with his own glass still in hand.

“I’m sure Aiko has been telling tales,” Enzo said with a smirk, his eyes flicking to her. “Though I imagine you’ve got plenty of your own.”

Klaus chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving Enzo. “Oh, I do. But I have a feeling we’ll get to those in time.” He raised his glass, gesturing between the three of them. “For now, let’s drink. To old souls and new acquaintances.”

Enzo lifted his glass, clinking it against Klaus’s. He had no idea what kind of rabbit hole he was stepping into by meeting this man, but if Klaus Mikaelson was anything like he suspected, then this was bound to be more than just a simple introduction.

The clink of their glasses felt like the beginning of something, though what exactly, Enzo wasn’t sure. He studied Klaus over the rim of his drink, watching the way the other vampire carried himself. There was something... magnetic about him. Not just the power that radiated off him, but the way he seemed to be in control of everything without needing to say much at all.

Klaus took a sip of his drink, setting the glass down on the table with a soft clink. His eyes flicked to Enzo, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So, what brings you to Japan, Enzo? Surely not just Aiko’s charm.”

Enzo chuckled, leaning back against the plush seat of the booth, holding his glass in his hand. “As much as Aiko’s company is... invigorating,” he said with a smirk, “I’m here on business, in a way. Looking for someone.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “Ah, a search. I’ve had my fair share of those over the centuries. Who are you looking for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Damon Salvatore,” Enzo replied, the name slipping off his tongue like a bitter memory. “An old friend. Lost track of him a while back. Figured it was time to set things right.”

“Friend?” Klaus mused, his tone skeptical. “Or something else? You don’t strike me as the kind of man who spends years chasing ghosts.”

Enzo’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression light. “A bit of both, I suppose. Let’s just say he owes me, and I’m here to collect.”

Klaus hummed in acknowledgment, swirling the dark liquid in his glass before taking another sip. “And yet, you’ve ended up here instead of finding him. What kind of game are you playing? Could it be that you’re chasing more than just a debt?”

Aiko chuckled beside Klaus, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she glanced at Enzo. “Klaus does love a good mystery.”

“Depends.” Enzo tilted his head, his interest fully captured. “And where do you think you fit into that game?”

Aiko, still grinning, nudged Klaus gently. “He’s not one to brag, Enzo, but let’s just say you won’t find many vampires with his... resume.”

Klaus smirked, but his eyes never left Enzo’s. “Let’s just say I’ve been around long enough to know that loyalty, power, and survival are all relative. And the ones who survive the longest are the ones who understand that.”

There was a weight to Klaus’s words that settled heavily between them. Enzo took another sip of his drink, feeling the burn as it slid down his throat, and considered the man sitting across from him. He had no idea just how old Klaus was, but he had a feeling this was someone who had seen more of the world than anyone else in this room—probably more than most vampires could dream of.

“What do you want from me, Klaus?” Enzo asked finally, cutting through the subtle dance of their conversation.

Klaus’s smile remained, but there was something sharper about it now. “Want? Nothing... yet. But I do enjoy meeting interesting people, and you, Enzo, are interesting. You’ve got spirit, a fire that hasn’t been completely snuffed out by time. That’s rare, especially for our kind.”

Enzo narrowed his eyes, feeling the weight of Klaus’s words. He wasn’t sure whether Klaus was offering him friendship, manipulation, or something in between, but one thing was certain—this vampire was dangerous in ways Enzo couldn’t yet fully grasp.

“And what about you, Klaus? Why stick around with us mere mortals when you’ve got an eternity to do as you please?”

Klaus chuckled softly, leaning forward just a bit. “Ah, but that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? An eternity is far too long to spend alone. And if you’re clever enough, you find ways to make sure you’re never bored.”

Aiko slid an arm around Klaus’s shoulder, her grin teasing. “And I keep things very interesting, don’t I?”

Klaus gave her a fond look but turned his gaze back to Enzo. “You’ll find, Enzo, that the world is full of unexpected allies, and the enemies are rarely who you think. Keep your eyes open. You never know who might prove... useful.”

Enzo sat back, considering Klaus’s words. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but one thing was clear—Klaus was playing a long game, one Enzo wasn’t even aware of yet. And for now, he was content to play along.

“Consider me intrigued,” Enzo said, raising his glass once more.

Klaus’s smile widened. “Good. I like intrigue.”

As Enzo raised his glass to take another sip, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Glancing down, he saw a message from Elorie with a photo attached. His brows furrowed slightly as he opened it—a stone, its surface etched with strange symbols. Elorie’s message was brief: "Any idea what these mean?"

He felt a flicker of concern. Elorie wasn’t one to reach out for help unless something was seriously off, and the fact that she had sent him this meant she was already knee-deep in whatever trouble this was. He stared at the image for a moment longer, his thumb hovering over the screen.

Aiko noticed his distraction and raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong, darling?”

Enzo’s lips twisted into a half-smile, but there was tension in his eyes. “Nothing I can’t handle. Just one of my friends getting mixed up in something... ancient.”

Klaus’s attention piqued at that, his eyes flicking toward the phone. “Ancient, you say?”

Enzo didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he quickly typed a response back to Elorie, keeping his tone casual even as a part of him worried about what she’d gotten into.

“I’ll ask around, see what I can dig up. Might take a bit—but I’ve got some contacts who know more about ancient magic than I do.”

As he hit send, he pocketed the phone, turning his attention back to Aiko and Klaus. “Just a friend looking for help with some research,”

Enzo hesitated for a moment, glancing at Klaus. As intriguing as the older vampire was, this wasn’t the kind of trouble he wanted to share so easily. Elorie’s situation was delicate, and the last thing he needed was someone like Klaus getting too involved—especially when it came to ancient, dangerous magic.

He offered a smile, slipping his phone back into his pocket as if the matter was already forgotten. “Appreciate the insight, Klaus. But you know how it is, always some mysterious thing to unravel when you’ve lived as long as we have. I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Klaus’s eyes lingered on him for a beat longer, but then the faintest smile returned to his face, the tension easing. “Of course. We all have our secrets, don’t we?”

Enzo chuckled, nodding toward the dancers in the center of the room, smoothly steering the conversation away from the symbols. “Speaking of mysteries, this place certainly has its own... charm. How did you stumble across it, Aiko? You’ve got a real knack for finding hidden gems.”

Aiko grinned, clearly enjoying the shift back to something lighter. She settled deeper into the booth, her fingers drumming lightly on the table. “Oh, I’ve got my ways. Let’s just say Tokyo is full of places like this—if you know where to look. And if you’ve got a few centuries under your belt, you tend to stumble upon all sorts of interesting places.”

Klaus took a sip of his drink, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s not the place itself that’s interesting, Enzo, but the people who frequent it. Everyone here has a story worth hearing... if you’re patient enough to listen.”

Enzo smirked, lifting his glass to Klaus. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe once we’ve had a few more drinks, I’ll see if I can’t pull a few of those stories out of you.”

Klaus chuckled, leaning back in his seat, the earlier intensity gone. “Oh, I’ve got stories, all right. But I have a feeling you’d prefer a little mystery to keep things interesting.”

Enzo grinned, feeling the tension from the earlier conversation dissolve. Whatever trouble Elorie was in, it would have to wait until he could get back to her. For now, he’d keep the conversation light and enjoy the strange company he found himself in.

Enzo stirred awake, his head pounding from the previous night’s indulgence. The faint scent of perfume and the warmth of soft skin pressed against him told him he wasn’t alone in the bed. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering in through the window, he realized he was tangled up with two women, their bodies draped over him in the aftermath of their reckless night out.

Carefully, he detangled himself from the sheets and the sleeping forms beside him, trying not to disturb them. His body ached as he sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. A headache pulsed behind his temples, but it was the faint burn of blood lust that reminded him just how far they’d gone last night.

Grabbing his clothes from the floor, Enzo slipped into them as quietly as he could. He padded out into the common area, where the scent of something warm and soothing hit his nose. Aiko was already awake, sitting cross-legged on the plush sofa with a steaming cup of green tea in her hand. She looked as composed and flawless as ever, barely a trace of the night's chaos showing on her face.

“Morning, darling,” Aiko greeted, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she took a sip from her cup. She motioned to the empty space beside her. “Come, join me. You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Enzo groaned as he stumbled over to her, collapsing onto the couch beside her. “Tea’s not strong enough to fix this headache, love,” he muttered, rubbing his temples before looking over at her. “How are you up and so... put together? I feel like death.”

Aiko chuckled, the sound light and airy. “Centuries of practice, Enzo. You should know that by now. Besides, I paced myself. You, on the other hand...”

Enzo snorted, taking the cup she offered him, even if green tea wasn’t his go-to. He took a small sip, letting the warm liquid soothe his dry throat. “Guess I lost track of how many drinks we had last night. Things got a bit... out of hand.”

Aiko’s lips quirked into a smirk as she watched him. “Oh, I’d say it was more than just a bit. But no harm done. We had fun, didn’t we?”

Enzo grinned, the events of the night coming back in blurry flashes. “Yeah, I suppose we did. But I’m not sure my body agrees with me.”

Aiko laughed softly, setting her cup down on the table. “It’s all part of the experience, darling. You’ll recover, like you always do.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the early morning stillness settling around them. Enzo stared into his tea, the weight of their conversation from last night, of Klaus and whatever game he was playing, nagging at the back of his mind. But for now, he let it rest. There was no point diving into those murky waters when his head felt like it was about to split in two.

Aiko glanced over at him, her expression softening slightly. “So, what’s the plan for today? Going to keep chasing shadows, or do you think you’ll finally take me up on that offer to enjoy Tokyo properly?”

Enzo chuckled, taking another sip of tea. “I think I’ve had my fill of chaos for a day or two. A proper break sounds like a good idea.”

Aiko broke the silence. She sipped her tea, her eyes flicking toward Enzo thoughtfully before speaking. "One of my contacts just got a hit on Damon," she said, her voice casual but with a hint of intrigue. "Mainland Europe, somewhere near Portugal. Thought you’d like to know."

Enzo paused mid-sip, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. "Portugal?" he echoed, setting his cup down. “That’s a bit far from where I expected him to be. What’s he doing over there?”

Aiko shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. “Who knows with Damon? But it’s a lead. If you’re still interested in tracking him down, it could be worth checking out.”

Enzo leaned back, considering her words. Damon had been slipping further and further out of reach for months, and this was the first solid lead he’d had in a while. It was tempting to drop everything and go. But something in Aiko’s tone made him pause.

“And what about you?” Enzo asked, eyes scanning her face for a sign. “You coming with me this time?”

Aiko shook her head, a small, almost regretful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Not this time, darling. I’ve got some business to handle here. For Klaus.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, his curiosity immediately piqued. "Klaus? What kind of business would a man like that need help with?"

Aiko smirked, the playful energy returning to her eyes. “Oh, Klaus always has his hands in something, doesn’t he? Let’s just say he’s always in the market for talented witches. And I’m on the hunt for a rather powerful one.”

Enzo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Talented witches, huh? Sounds like Klaus has a very particular kind of... need.”

Aiko’s smile widened, but there was something more behind it—a quiet intensity that suggested this wasn’t just a casual errand. “You could say that. The man knows power when he sees it, and he’s always looking to add to his... collection, so to speak.”

Enzo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I’ll keep my eyes open. Let you know if anyone like that crosses my path.”

Aiko’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, as if assessing whether there was something he wasn’t saying. But she let it go, her smile softening as she leaned back against the couch. “I’d appreciate that.”

He didn’t volunteer any more information. Not about Elorie. Not about the strange magic she was grappling with back home. This conversation had already edged too close to dangerous territory, and the last thing he wanted was Klaus getting wind of someone like her. Not until he knew more.

Aiko stretched her arms overhead, letting out a contented sigh. “Well, if you do decide to head to Portugal, I imagine Damon will be good for a few days of entertainment. Maybe even more, if you’re lucky.”

Enzo smirked, though his mind was still turning over her words. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll keep me on my toes. He always does.”

She leaned forward, placing her cup gently on the table. “Just don’t get too lost in chasing him, Enzo. There’s a whole world out there beyond Damon Salvatore, and you’re interesting enough to make your own way through it.”

There was a softness to her voice that hadn’t been there before, and Enzo found himself meeting her gaze, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. “I know,” he replied, his voice lower now. “But some debts are hard to let go of.”

Aiko’s expression softened, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “I understand that more than you think.”

For a moment, the weight of their shared histories, the countless years and betrayals they both carried, hung in the air between them. Enzo could see it in her eyes—the way she, too, had her own ghosts. And yet, there was something freeing about that understanding, the unspoken bond that came with living far too long and seeing too much.

“Well,” Aiko said, standing and stretching her arms overhead, breaking the tension with her usual lightness, “if you’re heading off to Portugal, don’t forget to bring me back something shiny. You know I have a weakness for souvenirs.”

Enzo laughed, standing as well, the warmth of their banter pushing back the darkness of their conversation. “Consider it done. Something shiny, just for you.”

Aiko grinned, brushing past him lightly as she headed toward the door. “Good. Now, I’ve got to meet Klaus. He’s not a fan of being kept waiting.”

As she reached the door, Enzo called after her, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Do me a favor,—say hello to him for me.”

Aiko turned, flashing him a teasing smile. “Oh, I will. But knowing Klaus, he’ll probably be more interested in meeting with you  again.”

Enzo chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Take care, Aiko.”

With one last mischievous glance, Aiko disappeared out the door, leaving Enzo standing there in the quiet aftermath. As the door clicked shut behind her, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time Klaus’s name would come up in conversation. Whatever Aiko was caught up in, it was bound to get more complicated.

But that was a problem for later. For now, he had other matters to deal with—like Portugal and Damon... and whatever was lurking back home with Elorie.

Chapter Text

Elorie was trapped in darkness, the kind that suffocated. She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear—only feel. The crushing weight of the earth surrounded her, pressing down on her chest, filling her lungs with the sharp tang of soil. She tried to scream, but her throat was clogged, dirt scraping against the inside of her mouth as she clawed desperately at the weight above her.

Her heart pounded in her ears, frantic and terrified. This wasn’t water; she wasn’t drowning. No, this was worse. She was buried alive, trapped beneath layers of dirt that felt too real to be just a nightmare.

With every ounce of strength, Elorie clawed at the earth, her fingers raw and bleeding as they tore through the soil. She gasped for breath, her nails digging into the dirt with a ferocity born of pure panic. Each pull of her hand seemed endless, but then—finally—she felt her fingers break through. Air. Cool, sharp air. The ground gave way, and her hands reached up to the sky, the moonlight pouring down on her face.

She blinked, eyes wide, breathing in rapid, shallow bursts. The moon. That moon. Her gaze darted around, frantic, her body trembling as she dragged herself free from the dirt. This wasn’t her bedroom.

She hadn’t been dreaming.

She had been buried alive.

Elorie coughed, her lungs burning with every breath as she scrambled to her feet. Her body ached, her skin covered in dirt, her fingers still shaking from the effort. She stumbled, nearly collapsing again as the ground spun beneath her feet.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as her eyes adjusted to the world around her. And then she saw it.

The clearing.

The rock.

That cursed rock stood directly in front of her, its ancient runes gleaming faintly under the pale glow of the moon. The sight of it sent ice-cold terror coursing through her veins. Elorie's body convulsed in dry heaves, her stomach churning as she tried to comprehend what had just happened.

This is bad. This is really bad.

She staggered backward, away from the rock, her pulse racing so fast it felt like her heart might burst. Her mind was a blur of fragmented thoughts, confusion and fear swirling together into a choking panic. How had she gotten here? How long had she been buried?

She wiped at her face with shaking hands, dirt falling from her skin like ash. Her breaths came in ragged bursts, each one more labored than the last. The clearing, the rock—it all felt like a trap closing in around her, suffocating her even now that she was free of the earth. The whispers in her mind—the ones that had been haunting her dreams for days—grew louder. They swirled around her, an echo of promises and lies, urging her to come closer.

No. No. I have to get out of here.

Her feet wouldn’t move. The clearing held her in place, that cursed rock drawing her in like a dark gravity she couldn’t resist. She blinked rapidly, trying to steady herself, but the whispers in her head grew louder, and with them, a new thought—one that sent chills down her spine.

What if this was no accident? What if something—someone—had buried her here?

Her throat tightened, her body trembling as the reality of it all set in. The power she had drawn from this place, the magic that had been pulling at her since she first discovered the clearing... it was no longer passive. It had come for her. It was seeping into her dreams, into her very bones.

Her body shook as she fought back another wave of nausea. The dirt still clung to her skin, a reminder of how close she had come to never seeing the moon again. She took a shaky step forward, but her legs were weak, unsteady. Her gaze darted around the clearing, searching for a way out, for some sign that this was all a nightmare. But everything felt too real—the cold bite of the night air, the dampness on her skin, the darkened trees that seemed to watch her with eerie silence.

She turned back toward the rock, her heart pounding in her chest. Why this place? Why did the magic feel so strong here, so relentless? And why did it feel like it was calling her name?

The whispers returned, softer now but insistent, like a dark lullaby. They wound through her thoughts, pulling her toward the rock, toward the ancient magic that pulsed beneath the earth.

Elorie clenched her fists, fighting the urge to step closer. No. I’m not going to give in. I’m not going to let this thing take control of me.

But even as she made that promise to herself, she could feel the pull. The magic wasn’t just in the ground anymore. It was inside her, worming its way through her veins, whispering in her mind, telling her that the only way to make the nightmares stop was to give in.

Her breaths quickened, the panic rising again. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t let this place sink its claws into her any deeper. She needed to leave—now—before it consumed her entirely.

But as she turned to run, her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to the ground, the whispers growing louder, more seductive, as darkness crept in from the edges of her vision.

And then, before the world went completely black, she heard a voice—soft, almost familiar.

“Come back... come back to me, Elorie.”

The last thing she saw was the faint glow of the runes on the stone, pulsing like a heartbeat. Then, nothing.

Elorie woke to the sharp sting of sunlight beating down on her face. Her eyes fluttered open, disoriented and aching. The ground beneath her was cold and damp, the remnants of dirt still clinging to her skin and clothes. She was still in the clearing.  Her heart slammed in her chest as the memories of the night before flooded back. The suffocating darkness, the weight of the earth, the whispers... the rock. Her hands shook as she pushed herself up, every muscle in her body protesting the movement. She wasn’t buried anymore, but that didn’t ease the fear gnawing at her. It had been real. All of it. She had been buried alive.

Elorie dragged herself to her feet, her legs weak, trembling as she stumbled forward. She needed to get out of here—away from the clearing, away from that cursed rock. Her vision blurred as she started walking, every step painful and slow. Her breath came in shallow bursts, but she forced herself to keep going. As the trees thinned and her house came into view, she heard it—voices shouting, calling her name. The frantic barks of search dogs echoed through the air. Her heart twisted in her chest as she saw Sheriff Forbes at the front of the search party, ordering deputies around with a steely calm. Caroline was standing nearby, organizing with her friends, her face pale and drawn with worry.

Jenna—her strong, steadfast Jenna—was there, frantically handing out flyers, her face lined with fear and exhaustion. Elorie’s throat tightened at the sight of her aunt, the desperation etched into every line of her face. A sob broke from her lips, and she tried to quicken her pace, though her legs screamed in protest. The closer she got, the more the voices seemed to merge into a frantic hum. She willed her legs to move faster, to carry her toward them, but it felt like trudging through mud. Her body was exhausted, her mind spinning from the trauma of the night.

Then, just as her strength was about to give out, Caroline noticed her.

“Ellie!” Caroline’s voice broke through the chaos, her eyes wide in shock as she sprinted toward her, her blonde hair flying behind her. “Ellie!”

Elorie opened her mouth to call back, but her voice was strangled, lost somewhere in the whirlwind of emotions crashing through her. She didn’t have to say anything—Caroline was already there, her arms wrapping tightly around her, crashing into her like a tidal wave of relief.

Caroline was sobbing now, clinging to Elorie as if she were afraid she might vanish again. The force of the impact sent them both tumbling to the ground, knees scraping against the earth, but neither cared. They held each other, their bodies shaking with the weight of the moment.

“I—” Elorie choked, her voice ragged and broken. “I’m... I’m here.”

Caroline pulled back just enough to look at her, tears streaming down her face. “We thought... we thought you were gone. Where have you been?” Her voice cracked, raw with emotion.

Elorie couldn’t find the words. She didn’t know how to explain what had happened, didn’t even fully understand it herself. All she could do was cling to Caroline, the weight of the fear, the guilt, the confusion pressing down on her like a storm.

The sound of approaching footsteps and frantic voices snapped Elorie out of the haze, and she turned just in time to see Jenna rushing toward them, her face crumpling in relief the moment her eyes locked on Elorie.

“Elorie!” Jenna’s voice was strangled with emotion as she fell to her knees beside them, pulling Elorie into her arms, holding her so tightly it hurt. “Oh my God, Elorie.”

Elorie sobbed into Jenna’s chest, her body shaking uncontrollably. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”

Jenna stroked her hair, tears streaming down her own face as she whispered back, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

The world around them was a blur of frantic activity—sheriffs, friends, the sounds of dogs barking—but for a moment, it was just the three of them. Caroline’s arms still wrapped around Elorie, Jenna holding her like she would never let go.

And for the first time since the nightmare began, Elorie allowed herself to believe that she was safe.

But deep down, beneath the relief and the exhaustion, a cold truth lingered—this wasn’t over. Whatever had happened to her in that clearing, whatever dark force had pulled her under, it wasn’t done with her yet.

The next time Elorie awoke, it wasn’t to the comforting warmth of her bed or the frantic relief of being found—it was to the sterile hum of hospital machines. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor filled the quiet room, each thrum pulling her further out of the haze she had been drowning in. She blinked slowly, her eyes heavy as they adjusted to the dull lighting around her.

The first thing she noticed was the dryness in her throat—an overwhelming thirst that made it feel like she hadn’t had water in days. Her tongue felt thick, her lips parched. She swallowed, but it did nothing to soothe the burning in her throat.

Confused and disoriented, she shifted, her body sore and heavy as she tried to sit up. The stiff, scratchy feel of hospital sheets surrounded her, the stark white of them almost blinding against the dim lighting. As she glanced around the room, her eyes landed on Jenna.

Jenna was slumped awkwardly in a chair beside the hospital bed, her head tilted to the side, chin nearly touching her chest as she slept uncomfortably. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a sign that, for now, she was at peace.

Elorie's heart clenched at the sight of her aunt—so worn down, so exhausted. She looked as though she hadn’t slept in days, dark circles etched beneath her eyes, her usual confident demeanor replaced by something fragile. Elorie had done this. She had made her worry like that, had dragged her into something dark and unexplainable.

She felt guilt flood through her, but more than anything, she felt... thirsty.

Her throat ached, dry and cracked, her body craving something—anything—to drink. She pushed herself up, her limbs feeling like lead as she slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The hospital gown she wore was unfamiliar and loose against her skin, adding to the sense of disorientation. She stared at the IV in her arm for a second, wondering how long she had been out.

What happened?

Her mind raced, fragments of the past few days flickering in and out like a half-remembered dream. The clearing. The dirt. The rock. Her heart stuttered as memories of being buried alive surged forward, but she pushed them back, willing herself to focus.

Elorie glanced around the room, her vision still slightly blurry, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She spotted a small plastic cup of water on the side table and reached for it, her fingers trembling slightly as she lifted it to her lips. The water tasted cold and metallic, but it soothed her throat enough to ease the burning thirst.

Setting the cup down, she tried to stand, her legs weak and unsteady beneath her. The room swayed for a moment, the edges of her vision tinged with darkness, but she forced herself to stay upright. She felt so... fragile. So out of control.

As she steadied herself, she looked back at Jenna, her heart aching at the sight of her still sleeping. How long had Jenna been sitting here, waiting for her to wake up? How many hours had she spent worrying, not knowing if Elorie would ever come back?

Elorie swallowed hard, fighting back the sudden swell of emotion. She wanted to wake Jenna, to tell her everything, but she didn’t even know where to start. How could she explain what had happened when she didn’t fully understand it herself?

The soft beeping of the machines was the only sound in the room, a reminder of the precarious balance she was teetering on. Elorie felt like she was standing at the edge of something vast and dark, the weight of whatever had pulled her into that clearing still clinging to her like a shadow.

She needed answers. But more than that, she needed to know that whatever had happened to her... it wasn’t going to happen again.

Her legs trembled beneath her as she took a step forward, her body still weak and unsteady. But she needed to move. She needed to feel like she was in control of something—even if it was just getting across the room.

As she took another shaky step, Jenna stirred in her sleep, her brow furrowing as though she could sense Elorie moving. The sight of her aunt, so vulnerable and fragile in this moment, sent another wave of guilt crashing over her.

“Jenna...” Elorie whispered, her voice barely a rasp as she reached out, her fingers brushing against Jenna’s hand. The touch was enough to wake her, and Jenna’s eyes fluttered open, blinking in confusion as she slowly sat up.

“Elorie?” Jenna’s voice was hoarse with sleep, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of her standing. “You’re awake.”

Elorie nodded, her throat still too dry to say much more. She watched as Jenna shot up from the chair, her tiredness replaced by a rush of relief and worry. Jenna cupped Elorie’s face in her hands, her touch gentle but frantic as if she needed to reassure herself that Elorie was real.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Jenna whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You were gone for days... no one knew where you were. We thought...”

Elorie’s chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she rasped, the words barely audible.

Jenna pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close. “It’s okay,” Jenna whispered against her hair. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

But even as Jenna held her, Elorie knew that it wasn’t okay. Nothing about what had happened was okay. Something dark was still lurking, still waiting for her. And as much as she wanted to believe that this nightmare was over, deep down, she knew it had only just begun.

Jenna gave Elorie a reassuring squeeze on the arm before she stood. “I’m going to get the doctor,” she said softly, her voice still laced with worry despite the relief of seeing Elorie awake.

Elorie watched her go, her mind still a tangled mess of confusion and fear. The hospital room felt too small, too bright, and her body was still aching from whatever ordeal she’d been through. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, her legs shaking as she tried to process everything.

A few minutes later, Jenna returned, accompanied by Dr. Grayson. Elorie’s breath caught in her throat as he entered, something about the way he looked at her unnerving her almost immediately. It wasn’t just the professional concern that most doctors wore—it was the way he really looked at her, as if he could see something more, something beyond the surface.

“Elorie,” Dr. Grayson greeted her, his tone neutral but his gaze far too piercing for her liking. He approached the bed, the faint rustle of papers in his hand the only sound in the room. “Good to see you awake. I’d like to check you over, make sure everything’s as it should be.”

Elorie nodded stiffly, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach as he began his examination. His hands were steady, professional, but she couldn’t shake the sensation that he was studying her more than he was examining her.

He asked a few routine questions as he listened to her heartbeat, checked her blood pressure, and gently prodded her abdomen. The whole time, Elorie tried to keep her expression neutral, fighting the instinct to recoil under his gaze.

When he finished, he stepped back, his posture relaxing just slightly. But his eyes didn’t soften. “I understand you went missing for a few days,” he said, his voice calm but edged with curiosity. “Can you tell me anything about what happened the night you disappeared?”

Elorie felt her pulse quicken. She knew this was coming. Of course, they’d want an explanation, but the truth—the real truth—was something she couldn’t possibly share. Too many people were involved now, too many eyes were on her, and the last thing she needed was for anyone to start asking the wrong kinds of questions.

She hesitated, glancing at Jenna, who was watching her with a mixture of hope and concern. She couldn’t lie, not outright. But she could find a way to navigate this.

“I... I don’t remember everything,” Elorie started slowly, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping for a while now. Some nightmares, mostly. I guess it got worse, but I didn’t realize it.”

Dr. Grayson’s expression remained neutral, though his eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Nightmares?” he repeated, his voice carefully measured.

Elorie nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, they’ve been getting worse. I guess... maybe it led to sleepwalking? I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like that before, but I can’t think of any other explanation. One minute I was in bed, and the next...”

She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air. She wasn’t going to tell him about the clearing, about being buried alive, about the suffocating magic that had pulled her under. She could barely understand it herself.

Dr. Grayson narrowed his eyes slightly, the faintest crease forming between his brows. He was perturbed, that much was clear, but he didn’t press further—at least not yet. “Sleepwalking can be dangerous, especially if the episodes escalate,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll need to confer with an expert to see if there’s anything else we should be concerned about.”

Elorie’s stomach knotted at his words, but she nodded, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. “Okay,” she murmured, grateful that he wasn’t pushing for more details.

He glanced at Jenna, then back at Elorie. “I’ll be back shortly. In the meantime, the sheriff will be coming to take your statement. Just rest for now, alright?”

Elorie swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. As Dr. Grayson left the room, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Jenna was at her side again in an instant, sitting back down in the chair, her hand gently resting on Elorie’s. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, her voice soft but strained. “You don’t have to talk about it now, but... I’m just so glad you’re safe.”

Elorie squeezed her hand, offering a weak smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m okay, Jenna. I promise.”

Elorie leaned back against the hospital pillows, the steady beeping of the machines a dull reminder of how close she had come to losing control—completely. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of the blanket as she tried to hold on to her composure. Jenna's hand rested in hers, a lifeline tethering her to reality, even though Elorie felt like she was unraveling beneath the surface.

She could still taste the dirt in her throat, the weight of it pressing down on her chest, and the feel of the rock’s cold presence looming over her. How was she supposed to explain any of that to people like Dr. Grayson or Sheriff Forbes? How could she make them understand without revealing the truth?

The truth that would make them look at her like Grayson had—like he could see her.

Jenna’s thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, her eyes searching Elorie’s face for some reassurance that she was really alright. “You don’t have to say anything, Ellie. I’m just... I was so scared.”

Elorie’s chest tightened. The last thing she wanted was to worry Jenna more than she already had. “I didn’t mean to make you worry,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t know it would get this bad.”

Jenna let out a shaky breath, her lips pressing together in a thin line. “It’s not your fault. None of this is. You’ve been dealing with so much, and I didn’t even realize it. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

Elorie shook her head, squeezing Jenna’s hand. “No. It’s not that. You’ve done everything for me. This... it’s just—” She stopped herself, her throat tightening around the words. She couldn’t tell Jenna the truth, not about the magic, not about the darkness that seemed to follow her everywhere.

Jenna sat quietly for a moment, her eyes still clouded with worry. “The nightmares,” she said finally, her voice soft. “You’ve been having them for a while, haven’t you?”

Elorie nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her lap. “Yeah. I thought I could handle it, but they got worse. More... vivid.”

Jenna’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Elorie admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought they’d go away eventually.”

Before Jenna could respond, the door opened, and Sheriff Forbes entered, followed by one of her deputies. The tension in the room immediately spiked, and Elorie’s heart raced as the familiar figure of the sheriff strode toward them with calm authority.

"Elorie," Sheriff Forbes greeted her, a small nod of acknowledgment. "Glad to see you’re awake."

Elorie swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around Jenna’s hand as the sheriff sat down in the chair beside her bed. “We’re just trying to piece together what happened,” Sheriff Forbes continued, her voice firm but not unkind. “You’ve been missing for days. We need to know what led to that.”

Elorie felt her throat tighten again, her mind scrambling for the right words. She could sense Jenna’s eyes on her, waiting for her to explain. But how could she make any of this make sense?

“I—” Elorie began, her voice hoarse. “I don’t remember everything. It’s all... blurry.”

Sheriff Forbes nodded slowly, her gaze steady. “Just tell us what you do remember.”

Elorie drew in a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Nightmares. They’ve been getting worse. I guess I must’ve started sleepwalking... I don’t know when it started, but that night... I don’t remember much. I think I wandered off.”

The sheriff’s eyes flickered with a hint of suspicion, but she didn’t interrupt. “You’ve never had a history of sleepwalking before?”

“No,” Elorie replied, her voice firmer now. “This is the first time.”

The deputy standing beside the sheriff scribbled something down in his notebook, the faint scratch of pen on paper only adding to the tension in the room.

Sheriff Forbes glanced at Jenna, who was watching the conversation with a mixture of concern and confusion. Then she turned her attention back to Elorie. “And you don’t remember anything else? Where you went, what you might’ve seen?”

Elorie hesitated. The clearing. The rock. But she couldn’t tell them that. Not without opening the door to questions she couldn’t answer.

“No,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t remember anything else.”

The sheriff studied her for a long moment, her sharp eyes searching for any cracks in Elorie’s story. Elorie fought to keep her expression neutral, her heart pounding in her chest.

Finally, Sheriff Forbes nodded. “Alright. We’ll file this as a case of sleepwalking for now. But if you remember anything else, anything at all, I need you to come forward. Understood?”

Elorie nodded, her stomach twisting with guilt. “Understood.”

Sheriff Forbes stood, giving Jenna a quick glance. “We’ll be in touch. For now, get some rest. And make sure someone’s with her—just in case there’s another episode.”

Jenna nodded, her hand tightening around Elorie’s. “Of course.”

The sheriff and her deputy turned to leave, the sound of the door clicking shut behind them echoing through the quiet room. Elorie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her body slumping back against the pillows.

Jenna turned toward her, her expression filled with a mix of relief and confusion. “Sleepwalking?” she asked softly.

Elorie forced a weak smile. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense... at least the only one I can tell them.”

Jenna nodded, but the worry didn’t leave her face. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you again.”

Elorie closed her eyes, trying to ignore the weight of the truth pressing down on her. Neither do I.

Chapter Text

Once Elorie was finally released from the hospital, Jenna still insisted she stay home for a few more days to rest. The space and quiet should have been comforting, but instead, the time alone only made Elorie feel more restless, her thoughts spiraling back to that clearing, the dirt suffocating her, and the stone with its dark magic. Every time she closed her eyes, she swore she could feel it creeping back into her thoughts.

Finally, when Jenna had gone out for groceries, leaving her alone for a little while, Elorie made her way back up to her room. Her bed felt foreign now, like it belonged to someone else. She picked up her phone from the bedside table, the screen lighting up with dozens of missed notifications.

Missed calls: Caroline (8), Enzo (5), Tyler (2), Restricted (3).

Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes lingered on the calls from the restricted number. Her mind immediately raced to the only person it could be—her mother. Did Diana even know she had almost died? Did she care? The thought of reaching out, of opening that door again, sent a pang of anxiety through her.

Shaking the thought from her mind, Elorie scrolled through the messages. Most were from Caroline, full of concern and questions, likely trying to figure out where Elorie had disappeared to. Enzo’s messages were shorter but no less filled with worry, urging her to call him back. Tyler’s were more casual but still checked in, probably because Caroline had asked him to.

But those restricted calls... they gnawed at her.

Elorie sighed, dropping her phone onto the bed beside her and rubbing her temples. It felt like everything was coming at her all at once, crashing over her in waves. She wanted to shut it all out, to crawl under the covers and pretend like none of this was happening. But the memory of waking up in that clearing, the weight of the earth, the darkness that had crept into her mind—it wouldn’t let her.

And then there was Dr. Grayson.

He’d referred them to a specialist—Dr. Lucianna Maxfield—someone who apparently had expertise in dream therapy. Elorie had barely registered the suggestion at the time, too focused on getting out of the hospital and trying to piece her fractured world back together. But now that she was home, the name lingered in her thoughts.

Trusting anyone recommended by Grayson, who had kept a vampire locked in his basement, was low on her list of things to do. She didn’t need a therapist to help her with dreams. She needed answers. She needed to know what had happened to her, what was lurking beneath that clearing, and why it felt like it was slowly pulling her under. But maybe, just maybe, this Lucianna Maxfield could have some insight—something she could use to figure it all out on her own.

Elorie sighed, resigning herself to at least doing some research. She grabbed her laptop and settled into her bed, typing Dr. Lucianna Maxfield into the search bar. The results filled the screen, a mix of academic papers, articles, and even a few mentions of her involvement in clinical studies. It didn’t take long for Elorie to piece together a general picture: Lucianna Maxfield wasn’t just a dream therapist. She was involved in some seriously advanced—and possibly fringe—research on altered states of consciousness, nightmares, and dream manipulation.

Elorie clicked through a few links, her eyes skimming over clinical jargon and long paragraphs about sleep cycles and lucid dreaming. It all seemed harmless enough—nothing outright suspicious—but something about it still unsettled her. There was a clinical detachment in the way Dr. Maxfield spoke about dreams, as though they weren’t an extension of the mind but a tool to be manipulated, controlled.

A knot formed in Elorie’s stomach as she read on. Dream therapy sounded innocent, but the deeper she went into her research, the more she started to see something else. Some of the articles referenced studies involving patients with severe nightmares, patients who had experienced something like sleepwalking—or worse, sleepwalking into dangerous situations, sometimes into violence.

It hit too close to home.

Elorie shut the laptop, her fingers trembling slightly as she set it aside. She couldn’t trust this woman. She couldn’t trust anyone Grayson had pointed them toward. She felt like a pawn in someone else’s game, the pieces moving around her without her control.

But she couldn’t deny the fact that something dark was happening to her. And while the thought of sitting in front of someone like Lucianna Maxfield made her skin crawl, Elorie needed answers. She needed to figure out why her nightmares were becoming so real, and why she felt like the darkness in that clearing was seeping into her very soul.

Her phone buzzed again on the bed, snapping her from her thoughts. Her phone buzzed again, jolting her from her thoughts. The screen lit up with that same unsettling message: Restricted.

Elorie’s heart thudded in her chest, each beat louder than the last. She stared at the phone, feeling the pull of something dark and inevitable. She wasn’t ready for this, but the buzzing wouldn’t stop. Biting her lip, she hesitated for just a second longer before swiping the screen and bringing the phone to her ear.

She didn’t have time to speak before a sharp, familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Elorie Anders. I have been calling for days,” the voice hissed, low and seething with frustration. Diana. Her mother.

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat, her fingers tightening around the phone. The icy tone of her mother’s voice sent a shiver down her spine, sharp and cutting like a blade. “Mom?” she managed, her voice barely a whisper, her mind racing. Diana was the last person she had expected to hear from—let alone now, after everything that had happened.

“Yes, Mom,” Diana snapped, her words dripping with bitterness. “Don’t play coy, Elorie. I’ve been calling, and you’ve been ignoring me. What have you done?”

The coldness in Diana’s voice was unnerving, but it was the mention of answers that made Elorie’s heart skip a beat. Did her mother know? Did she know what had happened in the clearing, about the magic pulling her under, the nightmares that were becoming all too real?

Elorie swallowed hard, fighting to keep her voice steady. “What are you talking about? You didn’t answer any of my calls for years. Why now?”

There was a long, tense pause on the other end of the line before Diana responded, her voice razor-sharp with frustration. “This isn’t about me, Elorie. This is about you. You’ve done something reckless, and now you’re tangled in forces far beyond your control. Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

Elorie’s chest tightened, her grip on the phone turning her knuckles white. “I didn’t do anything,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction. The clearing, the rock, the suffocating weight of the earth—it was all too vivid in her memory. But she couldn’t admit that. Not to her. Not to the woman who had left her behind. “I’ve been trying to live my life, Mom. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Diana let out a sharp, exasperated sigh. “Spare me the theatrics, Elorie. I’ve been watching, even if you think I haven’t. You’re sending off waves of magical energy on a catastrophic scale. Mystic falls is lighting up like a Christmas tree.”

Elorie’s heart raced, panic bubbling beneath the surface. Watching? The thought sent a chill through her, and she had to bite back the wave of anger rising in her throat. “You abandoned me. You have no right to swoop in and act like you care now. Where were you when I needed you? Where were you when everything fell apart?”

Her voice trembled with anger, but Diana didn’t flinch. If anything, her voice grew colder. “I left to protect you. But you—you—ignored every warning. I told you not to dabble in what you didn’t understand. Now, look at where that’s gotten you.”

Elorie’s pulse thudded in her ears. The accusations stung because they were partially true, and yet, the bitterness in her mother’s voice only ignited her anger further. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want any of this. I just wanted to live a normal life, but you—” Her voice cracked, and she struggled to maintain control. “You left me to figure it all out on my own.”

Diana’s response was immediate, and as sharp as ever. “Normal life? You were never going to have a normal life, Elorie. I kept you hidden for a reason, but you’ve gone and stirred up things in that town that were better left untouched. I thought I told you to be careful.”

Her grip on the phone tightened as she stood up, pacing the length of her room in frustration. “Careful?” she echoed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “How was I supposed to be careful when I don’t even know what I’m dealing with? You left me! You left me to figure it all out by myself, and now you’re blaming me for something I didn’t even ask for?”

Diana’s silence on the other end of the line only fueled Elorie’s anger. She could almost picture her mother, sitting somewhere far away, as cool and detached as ever, her words cutting like a knife without any warmth or remorse.

Elorie’s pacing became more frantic, her footsteps heavier as her anger boiled over. She could feel something unfamiliar stirring inside her, a crackling energy that hummed beneath her skin. It was dark, potent, and nothing like the magic she’d felt before.

“You think this is easy?” she repeated, her voice rising with every word. “You think I wanted this? You left me with no explanations, no guidance—just dumped me with Jenna and disappeared! So excuse me if I’m not handling everything the way you’d like, but I’m doing the best I can!”

Diana remained silent on the other end, her icy distance only fanning the flames of Elorie’s anger. Elorie could almost picture her mother’s indifferent expression, far removed from the chaos she had left behind.

Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat sending a pulse of that strange magic through her veins, sparking like electricity. The air around her seemed to thrum with tension, her emotions feeding into the energy, making it grow wilder and more erratic.

“Well, you know what? Just go,” Elorie spat into the phone, her words sharp and cutting. “Disappear like you always do, Diana. I’ll figure this out on my own.”

And with that, she hung up, her hand shaking as the screen went dark. For a moment, she stood there, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling as her pulse thundered in her ears. The silence that followed was deafening, but there was something else—something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

She glanced down at her fingertips, and her heart skipped a beat.

Her fingers were glowing faintly, a dark, pulsing light flickering around them. Tendrils of power swirled in the air just above her skin, like shadows made of smoke, moving and shifting as if they had a life of their own. Elorie’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the magic twist and coil, filling her with a strange sense of exhilaration.

Her enchanted necklace—her usual tether to magic—lay untouched on her night table, right where she had left it nights before. She wasn’t wearing any of her protective charms or enchanted accessories, so where was this power coming from? And why did it feel so... intoxicating?

Elorie flexed her fingers, watching as the dark energy curled and crackled around her hands. It wasn’t like the magic she had grown up with, the magic that came from her careful practice and control. This was something raw, primal—something that had awakened within her without warning.

A part of her was terrified by it, by the way it surged through her like wildfire, but another part... wanted more.

She stepped back, trying to breathe, trying to calm herself. But the magic wasn’t calming. It was alive, pulsing with an intensity she hadn’t felt before. It didn’t demand control—it demanded release.

Her mind raced as she looked at her glowing fingertips, the dark magic still swirling there like smoke. This wasn’t the magic she had been taught. This wasn’t the kind of power her mother had warned her about. This was something else entirely, something that felt like it was clawing its way to the surface of her soul.

The clearing. The stone.

The thought crashed into her mind, sharp and insistent. The power she had felt in that place, the way it had called to her—was this it? Was this what had taken root inside her, this intoxicating magic that seemed to have a mind of its own?

Elorie clenched her fists, her knuckles white as she fought to regain control. But the power wasn’t going away. It hummed under her skin, vibrant and wild, like it had been waiting for this moment to come alive. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus, trying to push the magic back down, to bury it beneath the surface. But it was like trying to contain a storm.

For a long moment, Elorie just stood there, staring at her hands, the air around her still thick with that dark, crackling energy. She had no idea what this was, no idea where it had come from or what it wanted.

Elorie hurried downstairs, her mind still reeling from the strange surge of magic that had flooded her moments ago. She needed to get out of her room, out of her head. Maybe Jenna could help ground her, pull her out of this bizarre spiral she felt herself slipping into.

As she moved through the hallway, the scent of lunch drifted toward her—Jenna must have been cooking, her usual comforting routine. For a brief moment, the normalcy of it all—the sound of pans clanging, the faint smell of something sautéing—helped steady Elorie. She could almost convince herself that everything was fine, that the conversation with Diana hadn’t happened, that the dark magic creeping under her skin was just her imagination.

But then she caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror.

Elorie froze, her breath catching in her throat as she took a step back, her eyes widening in horror. Staring back at her was a version of herself she didn’t recognize—her eyes, usually a soft hazel, were black. Pitch black. Not just her irises, but the entire sclera, a dark void that swallowed up any hint of humanity.

“What. The. Hell,” Elorie whispered, her voice trembling as she reached up, hesitantly brushing her fingertips across her face, as if touching her skin would somehow snap her back to reality.

But it didn’t. The blackness remained, cold and impenetrable, her own reflection staring back at her with an eerie, almost sinister intensity.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a rising sense of panic choking her. This isn’t me. What is happening to me?

She blinked rapidly, willing her eyes to change, to return to normal. But they didn’t. The darkness stayed, lingering like a shadow that had taken root inside her. She stumbled back from the mirror, her breath coming in short gasps, her body trembling with a fear she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Elorie?” Jenna’s voice floated from the kitchen, concerned but unaware of the chaos unraveling inside her. “You okay, sweetheart? Lunch is almost ready.”

Elorie couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. The reflection—the version of herself with those black, unnatural eyes—had her frozen in place. She couldn’t let Jenna see her like this. Couldn’t explain what was happening. How could she? She didn’t even know herself.

Swallowing the rising panic, Elorie forced herself to take a deep breath. Control. I have to control this. She tore her eyes away from the mirror, pushing herself toward the kitchen even as fear gnawed at her insides.

She could still feel the magic simmering beneath her skin, that intoxicating darkness pulsing through her veins. But she couldn’t let it take over. Not here. Not with Jenna so close. If Jenna saw her like this, if she realized something was wrong, it would just be one more thing she couldn’t explain.

“Elorie?” Jenna’s voice was closer now, more concerned. “Everything okay?”

Elorie stepped into the kitchen, doing her best to keep her face turned away, her movements rigid and stiff as she forced herself to respond. “Yeah,” she said, her voice a little too breathless, a little too strained. “I’m fine.”

Jenna looked over her shoulder, frowning slightly as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

Elorie nodded, fighting the urge to flee. “Just tired,” she lied, her heart still racing. “I didn’t sleep well.”

Jenna’s expression softened, concern creasing her brow as she stepped closer. “I’m not surprised, honey. After everything... I’d be surprised if you slept at all.” She reached out, placing a gentle hand on Elorie’s arm. “Maybe after lunch you should rest.”

Elorie forced a weak smile, nodding. “Yeah... maybe.”

But as she stood there, Jenna’s hand warm against her skin, Elorie couldn’t shake the image of her reflection, couldn’t push away the fear that was curling its way around her heart.

Because whatever was happening to her, it wasn’t just in her head. It was real.

And it was growing stronger.

Elorie sat across from Jenna at the small kitchen table, picking at her lunch without much appetite. She could hear Jenna’s voice drifting in and out of focus as she spoke, her usual warmth laced with concern. Jenna had been going on about the importance of setting up the appointment with the doctor Grayson recommended, but Elorie couldn’t bring herself to care. Her mind was elsewhere—on the mirror, on the darkness swirling inside her, on the magic that felt like it was ready to tear her apart.

“Elorie?” Jenna’s voice broke through the fog, pulling her back to the present. “You’re not listening, are you?”

Elorie blinked, forcing herself to look up. Jenna’s eyes were soft, but worried, searching her face for something—anything—that would offer reassurance.

“Sorry,” Elorie murmured, stabbing at her food with her fork, though she had barely eaten. “I’m just tired.”

“I know,” Jenna replied gently, her hand reaching across the table to squeeze Elorie’s. “But I think it would be good for us to set up that appointment with Dr. Maxfield. Grayson wouldn’t have recommended her if she couldn’t help.”

Help. The word felt like a joke. How could any doctor help her with this? With black eyes, ancient magic, and whatever dark thing she had stirred awake in that clearing?

But she didn’t have the energy to argue. Not with Jenna. Not when she was trying so hard to fix things, to make Elorie feel like she could still be saved. So, instead, she nodded weakly, offering a faint smile. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Jenna seemed satisfied enough with that, giving her hand another gentle squeeze before letting go. “You should rest, sweetie. I’ll call later to set up the appointment.”

Elorie nodded again, her thoughts elsewhere as she stood up from the table. The exhaustion weighed heavily on her, dragging at her bones, but it wasn’t the kind that sleep could fix. It was the weight of too many questions, too many unknowns, and a darkness she didn’t understand.

She retired to the living room, sinking into the couch and grabbing the remote. She turned on the TV, letting the noise fill the empty space, but her focus wasn’t on the screen. Her mind drifted back to Diana’s cryptic warnings, to the icy tone of her mother’s voice telling her to stay away from the stone. Sever the connection. Easier said than done when she didn’t even know how it had happened in the first place.

But that was no longer an option—Diana wasn’t going to give her anything more. Her mother had made it clear she was on her own, and the black eyes staring back at her in the mirror were proof enough that something was wrong. Really wrong.

That left Enzo.

He was the only person she trusted with the supernatural world that still felt like it was crushing her. But she couldn’t reach out to him empty-handed. If she told him about the magic and the darkness without understanding more, he’d storm into town guns blazing, and that wasn’t going to solve this. She needed more information, a clearer picture of what she was dealing with, before she could loop Caroline or Jenna into the mess.

The thought of dragging them into this darkness filled her with dread, but what choice did she have? The magic was already too strong, too wild. If she didn’t figure out what it wanted soon, it wouldn’t just be her life at stake.

Her phone buzzed softly in her pocket, and she pulled it out, glancing at the screen. Another message from Caroline, checking in again. Elorie’s heart clenched with guilt, but she swiped the notification away. She’d get back to Caroline later—after she had some answers.

Right now, she needed to talk to Enzo.

Taking a deep breath, Elorie opened up her messaging app and quickly typed out a message.

"Enzo, I need your help. It’s urgent. Please call me when you get a chance."

She hesitated before hitting send, her thumb hovering over the screen. Once she brought Enzo into this, there would be no turning back. She’d be pulling him into the same darkness that was threatening to consume her.

But she couldn’t do this alone.

With a sigh, she pressed send and set the phone down on the arm of the couch. She stared at the TV, not really seeing the images flashing across the screen, her mind already lost in the darkness.

Once Elorie was finally cleared to return to school, she threw herself into her studies with a singular focus. Her grades had taken a hit over the past few months, and if she had any hope of rejoining the cheerleading team, she needed to ace her exams. The head cheerleader had made it clear—no grades, no spot on the team. It was the perfect excuse for Elorie to keep her head down and pretend everything was normal.

And that was her main goal now: to present as normal as ever.

It helped that the nightmares had stopped. The suffocating dreams, the visions of the clearing, and the feeling of being buried alive had vanished just as quickly as they had come. But in their place, there was something else—a constant buzz, a low hum of energy that thrummed at the back of her mind, almost like static. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was there, ever-present, like a whisper she couldn’t quite hear.

Sometimes it felt like a voice, but not really. More like an itch she couldn’t scratch. A shadow behind her eyes, waiting. Watching.

Elorie kept herself busy to avoid thinking about it, pouring all her energy into schoolwork and focusing on her exams. She studied in the library during lunch, stayed after school to meet with teachers, and spent hours at home reviewing notes until the words blurred together. It was easier to distract herself with equations and essays than to deal with the reality of what had happened in that clearing, what had taken root inside her.

If anyone noticed her change in behavior, they didn’t say anything. Caroline had been supportive, checking in regularly, and even Tyler had mentioned how much she was improving in class. But no one asked her the questions she was dreading—no one pried into the deeper reasons for her sudden dedication. And for that, she was grateful.

But at night, when she lay in bed, the buzz grew louder. The voice—or whatever it was—pressed against the edges of her consciousness, like it was trying to break through, trying to reach her. Sometimes she could almost make out words, but they were always just out of reach, slipping away the moment she tried to focus.

She had tried meditating, practicing the control techniques Diana had taught her years ago, but it didn’t work. The buzz stayed, the strange presence behind her eyes never fully going away. It wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t comforting either. It was something dark, something powerful, and it was always there.

Elorie couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had awakened in her during that night in the clearing wasn’t gone. It was lying dormant, waiting for something—for her to make the wrong move.

But for now, she had to keep it together. She had to keep pretending that everything was normal, that she wasn’t walking around with this constant weight on her mind, that she wasn’t afraid of what might happen if she lost control again.

Enzo had finally reached out to Elorie with an update on the symbols she had sent him. His message was concise but revealing: “They’re Norse in origin. The runes spell out ‘Beloved.’”

Beloved. The word clung to her thoughts, heavy with implications she didn’t yet understand. It was an odd inscription to find on a stone in the woods behind her house—especially one tied to the kind of dark magic she had felt. Her heart raced as she stared at her phone, the weight of it sinking deeper into her chest. She had so many questions, but more than anything, she was grateful Enzo had dug this up for her.

Moments later, her phone buzzed with another message from him, asking for more details about the spot where she’d found the stone. Jenna told me about your disappearance. Elorie, what happened?

She had known it would come to this. He was worried. He had every right to be, considering the fact that she had essentially been buried alive by magic. And she couldn’t keep things hidden from him any longer. If anyone could help her figure this out, it was Enzo.

So, she told him everything.

The clearing, the rock, the way she had felt the earth closing in around her. The nightmares. The growing power inside her, the way it had surged when she had been arguing with Diana. She didn’t leave anything out. For once, she let the whole truth spill out, like a dam breaking.

When she finished, she waited for his response, her fingers trembling as she stared at her phone. She knew it wasn’t fair to drop all of this on him, especially when he was already dealing with his own problems, but she didn’t have anyone else who would understand.

After a few moments, his reply came through: “This is serious, Ellie. Have you told Jenna?”

Elorie’s heart sank as she read his question. She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip before typing out a response. “No, I haven’t. I’m not sure if I should drag her into this... Not yet.”

There was another pause, longer this time, before Enzo responded: “I get that. But she’s worried, you know? Jenna deserves to know what’s going on.”

Elorie sighed, staring down at her phone. She knew he was right. Jenna had been beside herself with worry when she disappeared, and if she knew the truth about what had happened, she’d probably insist on getting more involved. But that was the last thing Elorie wanted. The darkness she was dealing with—it was too dangerous. And she couldn’t risk pulling Jenna any closer to it.

“I know,” Elorie replied, her fingers moving across the screen. “But I just... I’m not ready to tell her. I don’t even know what this is yet.”

There was a beat of silence before Enzo’s response came through: “Alright. I respect your decision. But don’t wait too long, Elorie.”

Not wanting to linger on the heavy conversation any longer, Elorie shifted the topic. “Enough about me. Any updates on your search for Damon?”

The reply came quickly this time, almost as if Enzo had been waiting for the subject to change. “Yeah. I’ve tracked him to mainland Europe, closer to Portugal. He’s still being elusive, but I’m closing in. He’s making it hard for me... Never one to make things easy.”

Elorie smiled faintly at that. She could practically hear the exasperation in Enzo’s voice through the text, though she knew it was tinged with a certain fondness as well.

“Sounds about right. You’ll find him, Enzo.” She sent the message, hoping it gave him the encouragement he needed.

His next message came through, lighter this time: “I’ve got a few more leads to chase. If anything changes on your end, Ellie, let me know. And be careful. Whatever that magic is... don’t let it get its claws into you any deeper.”

Elorie glanced at her hands, at the faint memory of the crackling power she had seen just days ago. The buzz at the back of her mind still lingered, a constant hum of energy she couldn’t quite shake.

“I’ll be careful,” she replied, though she wasn’t sure how true that was.

As the conversation ended, Elorie set her phone down on the couch beside her, leaning back against the cushions.

Chapter Text

That weekend, Elorie and Jenna set out on a drive to meet Professor Luciana Maxfield. The road stretched ahead like a ribbon of uncertainty, winding through hills and valleys, carrying them farther from the familiarity of Mystic Falls and deeper into the quiet outskirts of town. Elorie hadn’t voiced her nervousness, but every mile they traveled seemed to pull her farther from the chaos of her life—yet closer to something unknown.

The hum of the car engine blended with the rhythmic thrum of the tires on asphalt, creating a soothing background noise. Jenna sat beside her, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other occasionally tapping along to the low music playing from the radio. Despite the tension in Elorie’s chest, Jenna’s presence was steady, grounding. For a moment, the weight of the secrets, the magic, the questions—everything that had been pressing down on her—felt distant.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Jenna asked, breaking the silence. Her eyes flicked over to Elorie with the same concern they’d held ever since the hospital. It wasn’t just about physical recovery. Jenna knew something more was happening, even if she didn’t know the full truth.

Elorie shifted in her seat, watching the landscape roll by outside the window. Trees blurred together in shades of green and gold, the world outside moving too fast to focus on any one thing for long. She took a deep breath, trying to muster the calm she didn’t quite feel.

“I don’t know,” Elorie admitted, her voice soft but steady. “I guess... I don’t know what to expect with Professor Maxfield. But she might have some answers, right? Something to make sense of all this.”

Jenna nodded, keeping her eyes on the road, though her brow furrowed slightly. “I think it’s a good idea to talk to her. She comes highly recommended, and if she can help you get a handle on whatever’s going on... it’s worth it.”

Elorie wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe that talking to Professor Maxfield would somehow unravel the tangled mess of magic and darkness that had wrapped itself around her life. But after everything that had happened, from the runes to her argument with Diana, she wasn’t sure any amount of therapy could fix what had been unleashed.

Still, Jenna was right.

“I know,” Elorie murmured. “It’s just... this feels different, you know? Like, this isn’t just a normal issue. What if Professor Maxfield can’t help?”

Jenna’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, her voice softening. “Then we figure out what the next steps are, maybe we need a magical therapist or something.”

Those words hit harder than Elorie expected. She hadn’t realized how much she had been keeping to herself—how isolated she had felt, even with Jenna beside her. She bit her lip, turning to look out the window again, feeling a surge of gratitude mixed with guilt. She had been hiding so much from Jenna, trying to protect her, but maybe Jenna was right. Maybe trying to do this alone was only making things worse.

“Thanks,” Elorie whispered, her voice tight with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jenna smiled softly, glancing over at her before returning her attention to the road. “I’ml always gonna be here. We’ll figure this out—together.”

They drove in companionable silence for a while longer, the tension in the car easing as they approached the outskirts of town. The houses grew farther apart, the streets less busy, until they finally turned onto a narrow, tree-lined road that led to Professor Maxfield’s residence.

The house was nestled between tall oak trees, hidden from the road by overgrown shrubs and ivy. It looked more like an old, stately manor than a home, with large windows framed by thick curtains and a wrought-iron gate guarding the driveway. It had an air of quiet mystery about it, the kind of place that made Elorie’s skin tingle with unease.

Jenna parked the car, turning off the engine with a soft click. “This must be the place.”

Elorie stared at the house, her stomach twisting in knots. There was something about the atmosphere—about the stillness that hung in the air—that made her nerves prickle. She glanced at Jenna, who was already stepping out of the car, her usual calm confidence steady as ever.

Taking a deep breath, Elorie followed suit, stepping out into the cool afternoon air. The crunch of gravel under her feet felt strangely loud in the stillness as they approached the front door. Jenna reached out to knock, and the sound echoed eerily in the quiet.

Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a woman standing in the dim light of the hallway. Professor Luciana Maxfield.

She was tall, with dark hair streaked with silver, pulled back into a sleek bun. Her sharp features were framed by a pair of thin glasses, and her gaze was piercing, taking in both Jenna and Elorie with a kind of detached curiosity. She wore a long black coat that gave her a polished, almost intimidating air.

“Ms. Sommers, Elorie,” Professor Maxfield greeted them, her voice cool and measured. “I’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.”

Elorie exchanged a quick glance with Jenna before stepping inside, her heart pounding as she crossed the threshold. The air inside the house was thick with something Elorie couldn’t quite place—something that made the back of her neck tingle with unease. The door closed behind them with a soft click, sealing Elorie and Jenna inside Professor Maxfield's home. The air felt heavier here, almost oppressive, as though the walls themselves were watching. The house was quiet—unnervingly so—and Elorie’s heart beat faster with every step they took.

Professor Maxfield led them down a long, dimly lit hallway, her footsteps silent on the dark wood floors. Every corner of the house seemed to be filled with shadows, even though it was early afternoon. Old, framed photographs lined the walls, their faded images just visible in the dim light, giving the house an almost museum-like quality. Elorie’s eyes darted to every detail, her senses on high alert. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It wasn’t just the house—it was her. There was a calm detachment in Professor Maxfield’s movements, like she was observing them just as much as they were observing her.

They were led into a small sitting room, the walls lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves packed with ancient-looking tomes. A large window overlooked the garden, though the heavy curtains were partially drawn, casting the room in soft, filtered light. It smelled faintly of old paper and something herbal, almost medicinal.

“Please, have a seat,” Professor Maxfield said, motioning to a pair of chairs in front of a small desk. She sat across from them, folding her hands neatly in her lap, her gaze settling on Elorie with a sharpness that made her feel as though she were being dissected.

Elorie sat down slowly, her heart still racing, the buzz in the back of her mind flaring up again. Jenna sat beside her, her expression calm but watchful, as though she could sense the tension building within Elorie.

“I understand you’ve been having... difficulties,” Professor Maxfield began, her tone clinical but not unkind. “I red your file but I’d like to know more about what’s been happening in your own words.”

Elorie’s hands clenched in her lap. Difficulties. That was one way to put it. But where did she even begin? The nightmares maybe, that was Luciana’s speciality after all. She glanced at Jenna, who gave her a reassuring nod.

“I guess... it started with the nightmares,” Elorie began, her voice low and unsure. “They’ve always been there, on and off. But a few months ago, they started getting worse—more vivid. Almost too real.”

Professor Maxfield watched her with a calm, measured gaze, the sharpness in her eyes cutting through the air between them. Elorie could feel that gaze picking apart every word she said, but she forced herself to continue.

“At first, I thought it was just stress, or maybe something I could handle on my own,” Elorie continued, swallowing hard. “But then... things started changing. The dreams became more than just dreams. They felt like... visions. Like I was somewhere else, like I was trapped.”

She glanced at Jenna again, seeing the worry etched on her aunt’s face. Jenna had been there, through every episode, every frantic moment. But even Jenna didn’t know the full depth of what Elorie had been dealing with.

Elorie hesitated, her throat tightening as the words tumbled out of her. She had to be careful—mentioning magic would raise questions she wasn’t ready to answer. Professor Maxfield was known for her scientific approach, grounded in practical psychology and dream therapy. She couldn’t risk steering the conversation into anything supernatural, not yet.

“I started sleepwalking,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “At first, it was harmless, just... walking around the house. But then it escalated. I don’t remember how I got there, but I ended up outside, in the woods, and... it felt like I buried myself. Like I was trapped underground.”

Professor Maxfield’s expression didn’t change, but Elorie could feel the intensity of her focus, the way the professor was absorbing every word, calculating. Maxfield leaned forward slightly, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Buried yourself?” she repeated, her tone cool but not dismissive. “Do you mean metaphorically? As in the sensation of being overwhelmed, or do you mean physically buried?”

Elorie glanced at Jenna again, her heart pounding. She didn’t know how to explain it—how real the sensation had been, how the dirt had felt like it was suffocating her. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “It felt real, but I can’t be sure. When I woke up, I was in the woods. There was dirt... everywhere.”

Professor Maxfield didn’t flinch. “It’s possible the sleepwalking episodes triggered a dissociative state. Sleepwalking often happens during deep stages of sleep, and in some cases, it can lead to more dangerous behaviors, especially if someone is under significant stress.” She paused, her gaze steady. “Have you noticed any other behaviors or unusual patterns—anything that could be influencing your sleep? External factors, perhaps?”

Elorie thought carefully, trying to navigate her response. She had to keep it within the realm of practical science, like Luciana wanted. “There have been some stressors,” she admitted, “and the nightmares... they started getting worse around the same time. I don’t know if that’s related.”

Professor Maxfield nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Nightmares and sleepwalking can be closely linked, especially when the mind is processing unresolved trauma or stress. Have there been any recent changes in your environment, your relationships, or anything that might be contributing to these episodes?”

Elorie stiffened slightly. There have been plenty of changes, she thought, but none she could easily explain to Maxfield. Magic, dark runes, and ancient stones were not the kinds of explanations a psychologist would accept. Still, she needed to give Maxfield something.

“I’ve had a lot on my plate lately,” Elorie said, carefully choosing her words. “School, family stuff... it’s all been kind of overwhelming. And, I guess... I’ve been feeling like there’s something weighing on me. But I can’t pinpoint what.”

Maxfield remained silent for a moment, her gaze never wavering. “Stress and unresolved emotions can manifest in dreams in complex ways,” she said finally. “The sensation of being trapped, of burying yourself, could be a representation of that emotional weight. When the mind feels it can’t process everything, it sometimes finds other ways to cope—such as dissociating or sleepwalking.”

Elorie nodded, though her thoughts were far from settled. It was a practical explanation, one that fit within the realm of science and psychology, but it didn’t account for the darkness she felt creeping inside her. The presence she couldn’t shake.

“And the sleepwalking,” Professor Maxfield continued, “could be your body’s way of externalizing that feeling—moving through space, almost acting out what your mind is trying to process internally. The key now is to figure out what’s triggering these episodes. We’ll start by keeping a dream journal, monitoring your sleep patterns, and identifying any environmental factors that could be influencing your behavior.”

Elorie forced a small smile, grateful that Maxfield was staying within the safe bounds of science, but the gnawing sense of fear in her chest wouldn’t let go. It’s not just sleepwalking, she wanted to scream. It’s something else, something darker.

But for now, she would have to play along, hoping that this was enough to keep her from spiraling further into the unknown.

Maxfield looked at her for a long moment, then asked, “Has anyone else in your family ever experienced sleep disorders? Any history of mental illness or similar behavior?”

Elorie hesitated, her thoughts flashing back to Diana, her mother’s cryptic warnings, the cold indifference she had shown even as she told Elorie that she had awakened something dangerous. “Not... that I know of,” she said slowly, though she knew there was more she wasn’t saying.

Professor Maxfield seemed to sense there was something unspoken but didn’t push. Instead, she nodded again and scribbled something in her notebook. “We’ll focus on the practical first. Sleep therapy, relaxation techniques, maybe even some controlled dream analysis.”

Elorie breathed a little easier. Maxfield was keeping the conversation grounded in reality, at least for now. But as Elorie sat there, trying to focus on the doctor’s words, that familiar buzz—the darkness—stirred at the back of her mind again. It was faint, almost like a whisper, but it was there.

Always watching.

Always waiting.

As the session wrapped up, Elorie knew one thing for sure: whatever was happening to her wasn’t going to be fixed by dream therapy alone.

Elorie kept her composure as Professor Maxfield outlined a plan—dream journals, relaxation techniques, sleep therapy. All the while, that dark presence hummed just beneath the surface of her mind, a constant reminder that none of this would be enough. But what choice did she have? Luciana Maxfield wasn’t the type of person who’d believe in magic, let alone the kind Elorie was dealing with.

“And I’ll need you to track your daily habits,” Maxfield continued, her tone clinical but steady. “Anything from diet changes, stress levels, emotional triggers. Sometimes it’s the smallest things that affect our subconscious the most. I’d like to start with a baseline understanding of your environment and behavior before we move on to any deeper techniques.”

Elorie nodded, though the idea of jotting down her every move felt useless compared to the danger she felt creeping around her. Still, Maxfield’s calm, logical approach helped settle the surface-level tension. If nothing else, it gave her something to focus on, a way to keep the real danger at bay for a little longer.

"Okay," Elorie said, trying to sound more invested. "I can do that."

Professor Maxfield gave a brief nod of approval, pushing her glasses higher on her nose. "Good. We’ll schedule follow-up sessions to assess your progress and see how your sleep patterns are changing. It’s important that you engage fully with this process—these kinds of episodes can escalate if they’re not managed properly."

Elorie almost flinched at the word escalate. She didn’t need Maxfield to tell her that. She could feel the magic pressing against her control every day, inching closer to something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

But she forced a small smile, giving Jenna a quick glance. Jenna had been silently supportive the whole time, letting Elorie take the lead in explaining what had been happening. Even now, her expression held that same warm reassurance, as if she truly believed everything could be fixed through Maxfield’s practical methods.

“I’ll make sure she stays on top of it,” Jenna added, her voice filled with quiet determination. “We’ll keep track of everything.”

Maxfield gave her a curt nod. “That will help immensely. And Elorie,” she said, turning her sharp gaze back to her, “I know it feels overwhelming now, but this kind of sleep disorder can be managed. If there’s anything beyond the psychological, we’ll find it. But for now, we focus on controlling the elements within your reach.”

Elorie swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to hold Maxfield’s gaze. “Right. I’ll stick with the plan.”

As they stood to leave, Elorie felt the weight of Jenna’s hand on her shoulder, a small but steadying gesture. The conversation with Maxfield had been draining, but at least they had a path forward—even if it wasn’t the one that would truly help. It was something to hold on to, a way to buy time while she figured out her next move.

But as they turned to leave, Professor Maxfield’s voice stopped them. “Elorie,” she said, her tone even but curious, “you mentioned feeling like you buried yourself. Sometimes, the subconscious mind can hold onto symbolism that’s hard to interpret, especially when we’re dealing with trauma. Is there anything in your family history—any buried secrets, perhaps—that could be surfacing now?”

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. Buried secrets. She thought of her mother, of the cryptic warnings, of the darkness tied to her lineage. Diana had been careful to keep certain truths hidden from her, truths that might now be clawing their way to the surface.

But she couldn’t tell Maxfield that.

Instead, she shook her head. “Nothing that I know of,” she lied, her voice tight.

Maxfield studied her for a long moment, her gaze sharp and searching. But she didn’t press the issue. “Alright,” she said finally. “But remember—dreams often reflect deeper truths. If something comes to the surface, don’t be afraid to confront it.”

Elorie nodded, though the very thought of confronting what lurked beneath the surface made her blood run cold. She gave Maxfield a quick smile before Jenna gently led her toward the door.

As they stepped outside into the crisp air, Elorie took a deep breath, trying to shake off the oppressive feeling that had followed her throughout the session. The weight of the dark magic, the runes, the growing presence—it was all still there, gnawing at her, but for now, she could pretend to be okay.

Jenna opened the car door, giving Elorie a soft look of concern. “How are you feeling, kiddo? That was... a lot.”

Elorie leaned against the car for a moment, letting the cool breeze wash over her. “I’m okay,” she lied again, but her voice was less convincing this time. “It’s just... hard to explain all of it without mentioning, you know...”

Jenna nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I know. But we’ll figure it out, Elorie. Whatever this is, we’ll find a way through.”

Elorie gave a weak smile, sliding into the passenger seat as Jenna got in on the driver’s side. As they drove away from Professor Maxfield’s house, the world felt a little too quiet, a little too still. And that buzzing, the presence that always seemed to linger in the back of her mind, was still there.

Elorie glanced out the window as the trees blurred past, her thoughts drifting back to the stone, the runes, the magic that had taken root inside her. The practical solutions Maxfield offered felt like a band-aid on something far more dangerous.

After meeting with Professor Luciana, Elorie and Jenna returned home, the weight of the conversation still lingering between them. The ride back was quiet, Jenna occasionally glancing at her daughter with concern, but giving her the space she needed. Elorie stared out the window, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts about the dreams and what they could mean. Once they got home, Elorie excused herself to her room, needing some time to process. She pulled out her journal and jotted down her thoughts, trying to make sense of everything that had happened lately. The dreams were growing more intense, and now, with Luciana’s words echoing in her mind, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were more than just nightmares. 

She felt a strange compulsion to continue looking into the old building from her dreams. The urgency was growing, as if something was calling her to figure it out before it was too late. She opened her laptop and started searching for anything that might resemble the building she’d seen in the flames. Old churches, historic sites—anything that might provide a clue. Just as she was about to give up, a grainy image caught her eye: an old structure that resembled the one in her dream. The description said it was a former church located in a rural area just outside Mystic Falls. Her heart raced as she clicked through the photos. The cracked windows, the aged wood—it was all too familiar.

The drive back from Professor Luciana Maxfield’s house was a silent one, filled with the weight of unanswered questions. Jenna kept glancing over at Elorie, concern etched into every line of her face, but she didn’t press for conversation. She knew better. Elorie needed space to process everything.

Elorie, for her part, kept her eyes on the passing scenery, but her mind was miles away. The meeting had stirred up more than she had anticipated—Maxfield’s clinical, logical explanations felt hollow against the reality of what was happening inside her. The practical solutions the professor had offered felt like paper shields against a storm.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Elorie was the first to slip out of the car, offering Jenna a small, tight-lipped smile. “I think I’m just going to go to my room for a bit,” she said softly.

“Of course, sweetie,” Jenna replied, her voice warm with understanding. “Take all the time you need.”

Elorie nodded and quickly made her way upstairs, shutting the door behind her as if the action could keep the overwhelming weight of the day at bay. Her room, usually a place of comfort, now felt too small, too confined for all the thoughts swirling in her head. She crossed to her desk, pulling out her journal, the familiar smell of ink and paper providing a small bit of solace.

She sat down and flipped through the pages, glancing over previous entries. Pages filled with fragmented dreams, scattered thoughts, and the occasional cryptic message she’d tried to decode. The dreams had been bad for months, but they had grown sharper lately, more vivid, as if they weren’t just dreams at all but something... else. Something pulling her deeper into the woods.

Elorie picked up her pen and began writing, the words flowing out of her in a rush.

The dreams aren’t just dreams anymore.

She paused, staring at the sentence, then tapped the pen absently against the page. Maxfield had insisted that the nightmares were her mind’s way of processing stress, unresolved trauma, or environmental triggers. But Elorie knew it was more than that. Every time she woke from one of those dreams, it felt like she had been pulled into another world, trapped in a memory that wasn’t hers—or worse, something that was hers, but long forgotten.

Her pen hovered over the page as she tried to organize her thoughts. The nightmares stopped being just nightmares when I found the stone. Everything shifted after that. I can feel it... like it’s trying to pull me somewhere, trying to show me something I don’t understand. Every dream feels like a message, but I don’t know how to read it yet.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the page. The sense of being watched, of something lurking just out of sight, had been with her ever since she touched the stone in the clearing. But now it felt more personal, more intentional, like whatever this magic was, it had plans for her.

Her fingers traced the runes she’d drawn, her thoughts racing. Maxfield had talked about severing the bond, about cutting off the connection to the magic before it consumed her. But what if the bond was something more? What if this connection was deeper than any of them understood?

Elorie’s hand trembled slightly as she wrote one final note at the bottom of the page.

What if this magic wasn’t meant to be severed? What if it’s meant to be embraced?

The thought chilled her, but it also ignited something deep inside—a flicker of curiosity, of dangerous potential. She didn’t know where that line of thinking would lead, but the more she tried to push it away, the more it clung to her.

Closing the journal, Elorie exhaled slowly, her mind a swirl of conflicting emotions. Professor Maxfield’s suggestions would buy her time, give her the chance to appear normal, to put up a front for Jenna and the others. But the real battle was happening inside her, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending.

She got up from her desk and moved to the window, staring out at the woods beyond the house. The clearing was out there, hidden in the trees, waiting for her.

Her phone rang, the sudden sound cutting through the quiet of her room. Elorie glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Caroline or maybe Jenna checking in. But the number wasn’t restricted, and it wasn’t one she recognized either. She stared at it for a moment, uncertainty gnawing at her. She had already dealt with so much today—did she really have the energy for whatever this was?

The phone kept ringing.

With a reluctant sigh, she picked it up and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”

There was a moment of silence, just long enough for her to second-guess answering. Then, a voice—soft, familiar—spoke on the other end.

“Ellie.”

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat, her body going rigid. She hadn’t heard that voice in years, but she’d never forget it. Her hand tightened around the phone, her pulse quickening

"Diana?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Not Mom?” Diana’s voice carried a faint, bitter smile. “I suppose I’ve lost the right to that title, haven’t I? But this... this isn’t about the past. I know I haven’t been the best mother—”

“I... I didn’t expect to hear from you,” Elorie interrupted, her throat tight. She was fighting to keep her emotions in check, but everything felt too raw, too close to the surface. She hadn’t heard from Diana in months—months of radio silence and unanswered calls—and now, out of nowhere, she was calling with concern?

“I know,” Diana said quietly, her tone unreadable. “I’ve been looking for something, something that could help you. I found it in New York. I’ve sent it your way.”

Elorie’s frustration spiked. Now Diana wanted to swoop in and act like she cared? After everything, after leaving her alone to fend for herself in a world she barely understood?

“And now you care?” she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. The edge in her words surprised even her, but she didn’t back down. “After all this time? You couldn’t be bothered to answer me for months, but suddenly I’m in danger, and now you want to play concerned mother?”

Diana let out a small sigh, like Elorie’s anger was just an inconvenience she had to endure. “This isn’t about the past, Elorie. It’s about what’s happening to you now. About your power. You’ve gotten it under control, haven’t you? It’s not flaring out as madly as it was a few weeks ago.”

Elorie stiffened, her chest tightening. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that,” she said, her voice low and wary. “How do you even know what my powers are doing? Whoever you are—what gives you the right to track me?”

There was a pause, heavy and filled with a tension that made Elorie’s pulse race. When Diana finally spoke again, her voice was softer, more serious. “I have a map. It’s enchanted to show me where members of the Anders bloodline are in the world. It’s how I’ve been avoiding the Family all these years. The elders used it to track witches—especially those who might be biting off more than they can chew. When someone’s magic flares, you can see it. Almost like they shine a bit brighter. And I can see it, Elorie. Other people can too.”

Elorie felt a chill run down her spine. The idea of being watched—of Diana, and possibly others, being able to track her every move, every surge of power—it unsettled her in a way she couldn’t quite describe. Shining brighter. She could feel her magic, yes, but she didn’t realize it was visible to others. That it made her a target in a very unexpected way.

“So, thats how you’ve been keeping tabs on me,” Elorie said, her voice tight with accusation. “Just waiting for me to flare up like some kind of beacon?”

Diana hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “Not waiting. Protecting. You have no idea how dangerous it can be if someone—someone with the wrong intentions—sees that flare. I’m trying to help you, Elorie.”

Elorie’s grip on the phone tightened as a surge of conflicting emotions rushed through her. She wanted to lash out, to tell Diana that her version of “help” had never felt like help at all. But there was something deeper stirring inside her now—a sense of vulnerability she hadn’t realized was there. Was she really visible to others? Could anyone with the right magic find her, like Diana had?

“I didn’t ask for this,” Elorie whispered, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Diana.”

“I know you didn’t,” Diana said, her tone gentler now, almost... motherly. “But it’s your reality now. And if you don’t learn to control it, someone will find you. Someone worse than me. Someone who won’t care about keeping you safe.”

Elorie swallowed hard, the weight of her mother’s words pressing down on her like a vice. “Then what do I do?”

Diana hesitated, just for a moment. “For now, keep doing what you’re doing. Keep it under control. Don’t let it flare again. And be cautious—of everyone. You can’t trust people with this kind of power. And when you’re ready... we’ll talk about what comes next.”

Elorie’s pulse quickened at that last statement. “And what does that mean? What comes next?”

Diana’s voice was unreadable, distant. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The line went dead.

Chapter Text

Enzo

Enzo paced the streets of Madrid, his frustration mounting with every dead end. He had been chasing Damon’s trail for weeks, moving from city to city, bar to bar, club to club—anywhere his kind might frequent. And yet, every lead seemed to crumble beneath his feet. Damon was always one step ahead, like he was actively avoiding him.

Tonight had been no different. Another club, another disappointing bust. The place had reeked of vampires—his kind crowded the dimly lit corners, exchanging their secrets and vices—but Damon was nowhere to be found.

Enzo stepped out into the night, the cool air doing little to cool his temper. He was about to pull out his phone and update Elorie when it buzzed in his hand. The number flashing across the screen was unfamiliar, but after weeks of endless calls and half-baked leads, he answered without much thought.

“Enzo,” a smooth, familiar voice drawled over the line, one that made Enzo’s stomach twist with recognition. “It’s Klaus. I got your number from Aiko.”

Enzo stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Klaus,” he repeated, his tone wary. “I take it this isn’t a social call?”

Klaus chuckled on the other end of the line, the sound dark and amused. “Not exactly. I’m in town, and I have something for you. Consider it a little... present. If you’re so inclined.”

Enzo’s mind raced, his thoughts immediately going to Damon. Klaus had a way of finding people, of manipulating them into giving him what he wanted. If he was here, if he had something for Enzo, that meant Damon’s time was running short. “A present, you say?” Enzo replied, keeping his tone light, though suspicion laced his words.

“Indeed,” Klaus continued, his voice smooth and enticing. “Let’s just say I’ve come across something that might interest you—someone, to be precise. But you’ll have to come see for yourself.”

Enzo’s grip tightened on the phone, his mind spinning with possibilities. He’d heard rumours about Klaus, that he never did anything out of the goodness of his heart. If he was offering something, it meant there were strings attached. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. Klaus had a reputation for knowing things, for finding people and information that others couldn’t. If he had something—or someone—that could get him closer to Damon, Enzo couldn’t afford to ignore it.

“Where are you?” Enzo asked, his voice firm but cautious.

“Ah, there’s that spark of intrigue I was hoping for,” Klaus replied, his tone positively gleeful. “Meet me at the rooftop bar, the one overlooking the plaza. I’ll be waiting.”

The line went dead before Enzo could respond.

He stood there for a moment, his mind buzzing with both suspicion and curiosity. Klaus wasn’t the type to give away anything for free, and whatever “present” he had for Enzo was sure to come with complications. But if Klaus had found Damon, or had information about his whereabouts, Enzo couldn’t afford to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

With a resigned sigh, Enzo pocketed his phone and headed toward the plaza.

When he arrived at the rooftop bar, the air was cool, a slight breeze rustling through the night. The place was luxurious, filled with an air of exclusivity, but it had that quiet undercurrent that Enzo had come to associate with places where vampires lingered unseen.

He spotted Klaus immediately—reclined in a corner booth, a glass of wine in hand, watching the entrance as though he had known exactly when Enzo would walk in. There was something almost casual about the way he waved Enzo over.

“Enzo,” Klaus greeted him warmly. “I was starting to wonder if you’d leave me sitting here alone.”

Enzo chuckled, sliding into the booth across from him. “Not my style. But I’ll admit, you’ve piqued my interest.”

Klaus’s smile widened, something genuine in his expression. “I’m glad. I thought you’d want to see this. It’s something that might help... or at least put things into perspective.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow. “What kind of perspective are we talking about here?”

Klaus swirled his wine, pausing as though choosing his words carefully. “Damon. You’re looking for him, aren’t you?”

Enzo tensed slightly, nodding. “I’ve been trying to track him down. Spain’s been a dead end so far.”

Klaus leaned forward, his tone more serious now. “I thought as much. I’ve been keeping an ear to the ground for you. He’s elusive, but I have a few leads. In the meantime... I thought I’d give you something to take the edge off.” He gestured to a small, wrapped package on the table. “A gift, if you will.”

Enzo’s brow furrowed as he looked at the box. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Klaus smiled. “Perhaps not. But I figured, in the spirit of our friendship, why not? Go ahead, open it.”

Enzo hesitated for a moment, before reaching for the box. As he unwrapped it, he found a silver flask inside, intricately engraved with Celtic designs. It wasn’t just an ordinary flask—there was an aura to it, an energy that hummed softly in his hands.

“Beautiful craftsmanship,” Enzo said, glancing up at Klaus. “What’s the story?”

Klaus leaned back, a faint smile still playing on his lips. “It belonged to someone rather important a few centuries ago. It’s said to have been enchanted to protect its bearer from... unsavory magics. Thought you might find it useful, considering how you seem to always find yourself in trouble.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, “Alright…”

Enzo tapped the flask lightly against the table. “So, this gift… does it come with instructions, or do I just throw it at my problems and hope for the best?”

Klaus grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “It’s simple enough. Drink from it when you feel something... off. The enchantment reacts to magic, particularly the kind that’s meant to harm. It won’t make you invincible, but it might just give you the edge you need when things get dicey. And knowing you, Enzo, things always get dicey.”

Enzo chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong about that.”

“And as for Damon,” Klaus added, leaning forward again, “I have some leads, but it’ll take a little more digging. I haven’t forgotten why you’re here. We’ll find him.”

There was a sincerity in Klaus’s words that took Enzo by surprise. This wasn’t just about debts or bargains; Klaus seemed genuinely invested in helping him find Damon. Maybe it was their shared experience with family—Klaus and his fractured relationships with his siblings, Enzo with Damon, who had walked away one too many times. In their own way, both men knew the sting of betrayal and the weight of loyalty.

“I appreciate that,” Enzo said, the weight of the flask in his hand feeling heavier than before. “More than you know.”

Klaus’s smile softened, the usual sharpness fading into something more genuine. “I’m sure you do, Enzo. But don’t let this go to your head. I still expect you to buy the next round.”

Enzo laughed, the tension finally breaking between them as he raised the flask in a mock toast. “Deal.”

They settled into an easy conversation, the edge of formality slipping away as they spoke about everything from their travels to the ever-changing world of humans and vampires. Klaus’s stories, rich with centuries of experience, held a depth that Enzo found himself appreciating more with each word. There was something oddly comforting about knowing he wasn’t the only one constantly navigating the shifting tides of loyalty and danger. As the night wore on, Enzo found himself relaxing more in Klaus’s company.

Klaus leaned back in his seat, his gaze drifting over the skyline for a moment, as if he were gathering his thoughts. The comfortable camaraderie between him and Enzo had settled into something quieter, but there was an undercurrent now—something Klaus hadn’t yet said. Enzo could sense it, and he waited, knowing that with Klaus, timing was everything.

“There is, in fact, something I’m looking for,” Klaus said suddenly, his voice casual but weighted with meaning. He turned back to Enzo, his expression serious now, though not unfriendly. “Something I’ve been after for quite some time.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, curious but wary. Klaus had a way of revealing just enough to intrigue, but never the whole truth. “I thought there’d be a catch,” Enzo replied, his tone light, though his attention sharpened. “What’s this something you’re after?”

Klaus took a sip of his wine before answering, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I believe Damon is the key to helping me find it. Whether he knows it or not.”

That piqued Enzo’s interest. “Damon? What does he have to do with any of this?”

Klaus studied him for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. “Do you know about Katherine?”

The mention of Katherine Pierce made Enzo’s blood run cold. Of course, he knew of her—the infamous vampire who had wreaked havoc on countless lives. And, more importantly, the woman who had twisted both Damon and Stefan Salvatore around her finger for years. She was as cunning as they came, and it didn’t surprise him that she might be involved in something that had piqued Klaus’s interest.

“Katherine?” Enzo echoed, his brow furrowing. “I know of her. Enough to know she’s trouble. What’s she got to do with this?”

Klaus’s eyes darkened, and a hint of frustration flickered across his features. “She stole something from me. Something I want back. And I believe Damon, or at least his connection to her, is the missing link in finding it.”

Enzo’s mind raced. Katherine stealing from Klaus? That was no small feat, and it spoke volumes about both her cunning and Klaus’s restraint—if he hadn’t simply torn the world apart to get whatever it was back. And whatever it was, it had to be important if Klaus was willing to enlist help from someone like Enzo.

“So, let me get this straight,” Enzo said, leaning forward slightly, his curiosity now fully engaged. “You’re after something Katherine stole from you. Something important enough that you think Damon can help track it down.”

Klaus nodded, though his expression gave nothing away. “Precisely.”

Enzo let out a low whistle. “And what, exactly, did she steal? Seems like a pretty big risk to take, crossing you.”

Klaus smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That, I’m afraid, is something I’m not quite ready to share. But trust me when I say it’s... personal. And it’s something I’ll do whatever it takes to get back.”

Enzo studied Klaus’s face for a moment, trying to read between the lines. He knew better than to press Klaus for details when he wasn’t willing to give them. But this revelation shifted things. Klaus wasn’t just helping him track down Damon for the sake of friendship—he had his own reasons. And, as usual, those reasons were tied to something deeper, something Klaus wanted.

“And you think Damon can help?” Enzo asked, trying to piece it all together.

Klaus leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his tone softening but still resolute. “I do. Damon’s relationship with Katherine runs deeper than most people realize. She may have taken what she stole, but she left a trail—one I believe Damon knows more about than he’s let on.”

Enzo’s thoughts churned as he processed the information. It wasn’t surprising that Damon’s connection to Katherine ran deeper than most knew—Damon had always been drawn to her, and she to him. But what exactly had Katherine stolen that Klaus was so desperate to recover? Whatever it was, it was important enough to drive Klaus to find allies—even in unexpected places.

“So,” Enzo said after a moment, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You help me find Damon, and in return, I help you figure out what Katherine took.”

Klaus inclined his head, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “Something like that. We both want something, Enzo. And in this case, our interests align. I have my resources, and you... well, you have your connection to Damon. Together, we stand a better chance of getting what we want.”

Enzo nodded slowly, his mind still turning over the possibilities. He knew he’d have to be careful—Klaus’s loyalty was fluid at best, and whatever Katherine had taken was likely something more dangerous than he was letting on. But the truth was, if Klaus was right and Damon was the key to solving this puzzle, then Enzo had no choice but to follow this lead.

“Alright, Klaus,” Enzo said, his voice steady. “I’m in. Let’s find Damon.”

Klaus’s smile returned, this time with a glimmer of genuine approval. “I knew I could count on you, Enzo.”

As the two clinked their glasses together in a silent toast, Enzo leaned back in his chair, letting Klaus's words sink in. The weight of their new partnership wasn’t lost on him—Klaus had his reasons for involving him, but the stakes felt higher than ever now. Katherine Pierce was no small obstacle, and whatever she had stolen from Klaus had to be valuable enough to stir the old vampire to action. As Klaus finished his drink, his demeanor shifted slightly, more relaxed.

The next few days passed in a blur of unexpected camaraderie. Enzo hadn’t expected to get along with Klaus so easily, but there was something about his company that felt, if not comforting, at least familiar. They spent their time hopping between Madrid’s more exclusive clubs and bars, with Klaus effortlessly drawing attention wherever they went. And yet, despite Klaus’s notorious reputation, there was an ease to their time together. Enzo found himself enjoying it more than he thought he would.

On the third night, they found themselves in a quiet bar on the edge of the city, far removed from the chaos of the clubs they’d frequented. It was just the two of them at a corner booth, their drinks on the table, the noise around them fading into the background.

“You know,” Klaus began, swirling his glass of bourbon thoughtfully, “hanging out with you, Enzo, reminds me of being with my brothers. It’s... different. But similar.”

Enzo glanced at Klaus, intrigued. “Your brothers, huh?” he asked, leaning back in his seat. “Haven’t heard much about them.”

Klaus gave him a small, cryptic smile, the kind that made it clear he wasn’t about to lay all his cards on the table. “Not surprising. My family’s... complicated.”

Enzo chuckled. “I think most families are. But go on—tell me about these brothers of yours.”

Klaus’s expression darkened slightly, but there was something wistful in his eyes. “They’re dead to me. All of them. Except for my older brother, who won’t seem to actually die, no matter how hard the universe tries.”

There was a bitterness in his tone that caught Enzo off guard. Klaus’s relationship with his family was infamous, but hearing him talk about it so bluntly still surprised him. He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t mean that. Not really.”

Klaus’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping against the side of his glass. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to brush the comment off, but then he let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Perhaps you’re right. I don’t mean it. Not completely.”

Enzo nodded, sensing the shift in Klaus’s mood. “Family’s a tricky thing. Trust me, I’ve been on both sides of that coin.”

Klaus stared at his drink, his expression distant. “There was a time when we were close, my brothers and I. Before everything fell apart. Before betrayals and lies poisoned what we had.” He paused, his voice softening. “I miss that, sometimes. Being with them the way we used to be.”

Enzo leaned forward, his tone lighter. “So, you do miss them.”

Klaus shot him a look, but there was no malice behind it. Instead, he gave a small, reluctant smile. “Yes, Enzo. I miss my family. I miss my brothers. Even my sister a little.”

Enzo chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “See? I knew there was a soft spot in there somewhere.”

Klaus rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t push your luck.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, the tension that usually hung around Klaus softening in the quiet of the bar.  Klaus, for all his centuries of cunning and manipulation, was someone Enzo understood. They had both lost family. They had both been betrayed. And somewhere in that shared pain, a bond had started to form.

Enzo took another sip of his drink, his gaze thoughtful as he let Klaus’s words settle. “I guess you could say I got lucky,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “Last year, I met some people... people who didn’t mind what I am. They didn’t care about the blood or the centuries behind me. They accepted me, flaws and all.”

Klaus tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “You’ve mentioned them before—this new family of yours. Sounds like they’re important to you.”

Enzo nodded, his thoughts drifting to the quiet moments he had shared with them. He wasn’t ready to give away too much, but there was a certain peace he had found with them—a feeling of belonging he hadn’t experienced in centuries. “They are,” he said simply. “I’ve got someone looking after me. Someone who makes sure I don’t fall too far off the edge.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And who might that be?”

Enzo smirked, shaking his head slightly. “Let’s just say she’s got a sharp tongue and a heart that’s bigger than she’ll admit. But she keeps me grounded.”

Klaus leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “It’s rare to find that kind of person. And I assume the others you’ve met are just as interesting.”

Enzo’s eyes flickered with something unspoken, a deeper connection he wasn’t quite ready to lay bare. “There’s another,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “She’s young, but strong. Stronger than she knows. We’re... tied together in ways I’m still figuring out.”

Klaus regarded him for a moment, his curiosity growing. “And you’re protective of her.”

Enzo’s jaw tightened just a fraction. “I am. She’s been through enough already.”

Klaus’s expression softened, the weight of Enzo’s words not lost on him. “Sounds like you’ve found yourself a family, Enzo. One worth protecting.”

Enzo smiled faintly, the warmth of the memory lingering. “I suppose I have. It’s not something I expected, but they’ve given me something I didn’t know I was missing.”

Klaus nodded, his tone quieter now. “I can see why you’d hold onto that. It’s not easy to find people who accept us for what we are.”

Enzo leaned back, his gaze distant. “No, it’s not. But when you do find them... you don’t let go.”

Klaus studied him for a long moment before speaking, his voice softer, almost reflective. “It reminds me of my family. How things used to be, before everything fell apart.”

Enzo nodded, understanding the weight of what Klaus was saying. “Family’s complicated. Sometimes it’s easier to walk away, but that doesn’t mean the ties aren’t still there.”

Klaus gave a small, reluctant smile. “You’re right. For all their betrayals, I do miss them. But it’s easier to pretend I don’t.”

Enzo raised his glass, offering a quiet toast. “To family. Whether we want to admit it or not.”

Klaus clinked his glass against Enzo’s, a rare moment of shared understanding passing between them. “To family,” Klaus echoed, his voice soft.

Toward the end of their week together, Klaus introduced Enzo to a group of witches who, surprisingly, were friendly toward vampires. It wasn’t the kind of gathering Enzo was used to—witches and vampires didn’t usually mingle without a great deal of tension—but Klaus seemed to have a way of smoothing those old rivalries, at least for the moment.

The witches, gathered in a dimly lit room that smelled faintly of incense and earth, welcomed Enzo with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Klaus had a reputation, after all, and anyone he brought along was bound to raise questions. But Enzo, charming as ever, fell into easy conversation with them, flashing his most disarming smile as he moved from one group to another.

It didn’t take long before the conversation turned toward magic. Enzo had always been fascinated by it—especially after seeing what it had done to people like Bonnie and, more recently, Elorie. So, he indulged his curiosity, asking the witches about how they learned their craft.

“Mostly through the elders,” one of the witches said, her voice soft but confident. “Magic is passed down through our bloodlines. You can’t just wake up one day and decide to be a witch. It’s in your veins.”

Enzo nodded, swirling his drink in his hand. “And what about those who don’t have magic of their own, but can pull from others? The siphons.”

The room fell silent for a moment, a few of the witches exchanging glances. Enzo waited, his smile still in place, though he sensed the subtle shift in the air.

“Siphons,” one of the witches finally said, her tone cautious. “I’ve heard of them. But I’ve never met one. They’re myths, as far as I know. Born without magic but able to take it from others.”

Another witch, a younger one with dark curls, leaned forward slightly. “We’ve read about siphons in old texts, but none of us have ever encountered one. Some say they’re dangerous, others believe they’re just misunderstood.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Misunderstood, huh? So, no hatred toward them, then?”

The younger witch shrugged. “How can we hate something we’ve never seen? Besides, magic is magic. What matters is how you use it.”

The group seemed to relax after that, the tension easing as they realized Enzo wasn’t here to debate or provoke. He kept his tone light, flirting with the witches here and there, flashing that signature smirk whenever the conversation dipped into heavier territory.

Klaus’s phone buzzed on the table, interrupting the comfortable lull in conversation. Enzo barely noticed at first, but the moment Klaus glanced at the screen, his expression shifted. The usual playful gleam in his eyes dulled, replaced by something more serious—almost calculating.

Without a word, Klaus slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up, his movements smooth but purposeful. Enzo watched him, curiosity piqued, but he knew better than to pry. Klaus’s world was full of secrets, and not all of them were meant to be shared.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Klaus said quietly, his tone light but distracted. “Enjoy the company, Enzo.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow but simply nodded, watching as Klaus slipped out of the room with practiced ease, blending into the shadows as though he had never been there at all. Whatever the call was about, it was clearly something that required his full attention. As the night wore on, Enzo continued to ask questions—about the nature of magic, the ethics of using it, and, of course, the role siphons played in the broader magical community. Most of the witches shrugged off the idea of siphons as anything more than an ancient story, but a few seemed intrigued by the notion. One even mentioned that if siphons did exist, they would be powerful, able to absorb the magic of anyone they encountered.

“So,” Enzo said, his voice teasing, “no plans to hunt down any siphons, then?”

The witches laughed, shaking their heads.

“We’ve got enough to deal with already,” one of them said, raising her glass. “No need to go looking for trouble.”

Enzo grinned, clinking his glass against hers. “Glad to hear it.”

Enzo, always the charmer, leaned in with a playful grin as he continued his conversation with the witches. He had asked about siphons before, but now he decided to push a little further, his curiosity piqued. “You know,” he said, casually swirling the drink in his hand, “I’ve been wondering if any covens out there might be... more open to siphons. Maybe even work with them. Heard of any?”

Most of the younger witches exchanged puzzled glances, clearly uncertain. “Can’t say I’ve ever met a siphon, let alone a coven that would be friendly to them,” one of them said with a shrug. “They’re practically myths, like we said.”

But before Enzo could let the conversation drop, one of the older witches, who had been quietly observing the conversation, spoke up, her voice low but certain. “There was one,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “A coven in France. They were... different.”

Enzo perked up, leaning toward her. “Different how?”

She hesitated for a moment, as if dredging up an old memory. “Their coven leader was a siphon, or so it’s said. They weren’t like the rest of us. They worked closely with vampires, even allied with them. It didn’t sit well with the other covens, of course.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A siphon leading a coven? That’s not something you hear every day.”

The older witch nodded, her eyes growing distant. “They weren’t exactly popular among other witches. Most saw them as a threat. But they were strong—too strong to be ignored. I can’t remember the name of the coven, but they were powerful, and they didn’t care much for the usual rules. Vampires, siphons—it didn’t matter to them. They worked together.”

Enzo’s interest was fully piqued now. A coven led by a siphon, one that didn’t follow the usual anti-vampire sentiment, was exactly the kind of lead he needed. Especially with Elorie’s powers growing more complex and unpredictable.

“And this coven,” Enzo pressed, his tone still light but with an edge of curiosity. “Are they still around?”

The witch gave a small shrug. “Hard to say. They went underground after some... disagreements with other covens. There were rumors, but nothing solid. Still, if you’re looking for a place where siphons are accepted, they might be your best bet.”

Enzo nodded, filing away the information. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “France, huh? Sounds like I’ve got a new destination on my list.”

Klaus, who had been silently watching the conversation unfold, raised an eyebrow. “France, you say? I didn’t take you for the traveling sort, Enzo.”

Enzo smirked, leaning back in his seat. “What can I say? I’ve always had a thing for good wine and interesting company.”

The door creaked open, and Klaus strode back into the room, dragging a figure behind him. The sudden movement snapped Enzo out of his thoughts, and his eyes locked onto Klaus, who had returned with a man bound and gagged, his face hidden beneath a bag. The figure was slumped over, barely struggling but clearly alive. The sight sent a ripple of shock through the room, and the witches—who had been laughing and talking moments before—gasped in surprise.

A few of the younger witches squealed in alarm, their drinks spilling as they jumped back from the sight. The eldest witch, who had been keeping a watchful eye on Klaus and Enzo all evening, stiffened, her face twisting into a deep frown. She glared at Klaus, her hands on her hips.

“Klaus,” she scolded, her voice sharp with irritation. “Must you always ruin the mood? You’ve brought violence into my parlor.”

Klaus, unbothered by the icy rebuke, gave the witch a charming smile as he dragged the figure closer to the center of the room. “My apologies, ladies,” he said smoothly, his tone light, almost playful. “I assure you, this little interruption is for a good reason. You see, I had a breakthrough on a very special gift for my friend Enzo.”

Enzo, who had been leaning back in his seat, suddenly straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he watched Klaus pull the man forward. There was something in Klaus’s voice that put him on edge. He glanced around at the witches, noting their growing discomfort as they realized Klaus was about to reveal something far more dangerous than they had bargained for.

With a theatrical flourish, Klaus reached for the bag covering the man’s head and yanked it off, revealing the bound and gagged face of none other than Damon Salvatore.

Enzo’s eyes widened in shock. Damon’s dark eyes were filled with fury as they darted around the room, glaring at everyone present. His face was smeared with blood, his clothes torn and dirty from whatever struggle had preceded his capture. But it was unmistakably Damon, and the look in his eyes told Enzo all he needed to know—he wasn’t here willingly.

“Klaus,” Enzo breathed, the shock still settling in. “What have you done?”

Klaus grinned, clearly enjoying the moment as he stepped back to give Enzo a full view of Damon. “Consider it a favor, my friend. I told you I had a lead on Damon, didn’t I? Well, here he is. All wrapped up just for you.”

Damon’s muffled growl came from behind the gag, his glare fixed on Klaus with a hatred that could have burned through walls. Enzo, on the other hand, was torn between shock, amusement, and a growing sense of dread. This wasn’t exactly how he had imagined finding Damon, but leave it to Klaus to turn a simple search into something far more theatrical—and dangerous.

The eldest witch, still standing at the edge of the room, had gone pale. She quickly realized the tension that had filled the air and motioned to the younger witches to gather their things. “We’ll be taking our leave now,” she said stiffly, her tone more subdued than before. “Klaus, do me a favor and don’t destroy my parlor while you handle whatever... business this is.”

Klaus bowed his head graciously, his grin never faltering. “Of course, my dear. I’ll be sure to leave your lovely establishment in one piece.”

The eldest witch gave Klaus one last warning glare before swiftly ushering the others out of the room. The younger witches followed her lead, casting nervous glances back at the bound and bloodied Damon as they hurried out. Within moments, the room had emptied, leaving only Klaus, Enzo, and Damon in the quiet space.

Once the witches had gone, Klaus turned back to Enzo, his expression slightly more serious now. “I figured you’d want to talk to him without any... distractions.”

Enzo stood up, crossing the room to get a better look at Damon, whose glare had now shifted to him. For a moment, Enzo didn’t say anything—he just stared at Damon, his mind racing with a thousand questions. The last time he’d seen Damon, they’d parted ways on uncertain terms, and now here he was, literally gift-wrapped and delivered by Klaus.

“Damon,” Enzo said finally, his voice steady. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Damon rolled his eyes, letting out another frustrated growl behind the gag. Without hesitation, Enzo reached down and yanked the gag free, tossing it aside. Damon spat out a bit of blood, his glare unwavering.

“Yeah, well,” Damon grumbled, his voice hoarse but filled with venom. “You didn’t have to get him involved.”

Enzo smirked, glancing back at Klaus, who stood nearby with a satisfied look on his face. “Wasn’t exactly my idea, mate.”

Damon shifted uncomfortably in his restraints, his voice growing more bitter. “I bet. So, what’s the plan now? You gonna ask Klaus to rip out my heart, or do I get a say in this?”

Klaus stepped forward, his amusement still evident. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Damon. I’m merely helping an old friend out. You’re here because Enzo needed to find you. What happens next is entirely up to him.”

Enzo crossed his arms, studying Damon for a moment before finally speaking. “What I want is the truth, Damon. Why did you abandon me with Augustine?”

Damon’s eyes flickered with something darker, but he didn’t say anything right away. His jaw clenched, and for the first time since Klaus had revealed him, Enzo could see real tension in his old friend’s expression.

Chapter Text

Caroline lay sprawled out on the bed, flipping absentmindedly through a magazine. Every so often, she glanced up, her eyes drawn to what Elorie was doing—fascinated, even a little envious. Watching Elorie work with magic always filled her with a strange mix of awe and frustration. She wanted to help, to be a part of it, but her role seemed forever limited to observer.

Elorie sat cross-legged in the middle of her room, a quiet focus in her eyes. The air hummed with a subtle charge, the familiar current of magic swirling around her. Scattered across the floor were pieces of jewelry—bracelets, rings, necklaces—each gleaming under the soft glow of the lamp, waiting for her to imbue them with something more. She exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar spark of magic flow through her fingertips, ready to practice her enchantments. This was where she felt most in control, where the chaos of her powers could be directed, refined.

The first object she picked up was a delicate silver bracelet, simple and unassuming. She ran her thumb over the smooth surface, focusing her energy. The first spell she whispered over the bracelet was a simple barrier charm, meant to create a protective shield around the wearer. A soft golden glow briefly surrounded the bracelet as the magic seeped into the metal, locking in place.

Elorie inspected her work, satisfied with the initial enchantment. But this was only the beginning. She wanted to see how far she could push these spells—how many layers of magic an object could take before it shattered under the strain.

The second spell she cast was a strengthening charm, designed to make the bracelet unbreakable. The silver band seemed to thrum with energy now, a faint pulse emanating from it as the second layer of magic merged with the first. The two spells coexisted peacefully, for now.

Elorie hesitated only briefly before adding a third spell—this one a cloaking charm, meant to hide the bracelet from sight, rendering it invisible to all but the wearer. She felt a slight resistance as she cast the incantation, the bracelet's surface flickering between visibility and nothingness before it settled. She could feel the magic starting to strain beneath the surface, the object nearly at its limit.

For the final layer, she tried a charm for enhanced perception, meant to allow the wearer to sense magical beings nearby. This time, the bracelet resisted harder, vibrating in her palm, and with a sharp crack, a small fracture appeared along the silver band. She cursed softly, having anticipated this but still feeling a twinge of disappointment.

“This is the breaking point,” she murmured to herself. “Four spells.”

Still, the experiment wasn’t over. Elorie had another idea. She retrieved one of her finer necklaces, a delicate chain with a pendant shaped like a crescent moon, and set it in front of her. This time, instead of layering multiple enchantments directly onto the jewelry, she decided to try something different: deconstructing the spells.

She focused on the pendant, not the entire necklace, and cast the barrier spell once more, but instead of simply letting it take hold in the pendant, she visualized it as a thread, carefully weaving the magic into the intricate silver design. Her magic wrapped itself tightly around the delicate curves of the crescent moon, becoming part of the pendant’s structure rather than resting on its surface.

The next spell, the strengthening charm, required more precision. Elorie deconstructed the spell in her mind, breaking it down into smaller, more manageable components. She inscribed the magic into the small ridges and edges of the pendant, focusing it into specific areas rather than letting it spread across the entire surface.

As she worked, beads of sweat formed on her brow. It wasn’t just about casting the spells anymore; it was about dissecting them, understanding the core of their power, and then reassembling them piece by piece. This level of control was exhausting, but it also felt right—like she was finally mastering her magic rather than being mastered by it.

When it came time for the third spell, the cloaking charm, she took a different approach. Rather than hiding the entire necklace, she inscribed the spell directly into the pendant’s inner workings. The spell now lay dormant, waiting to be activated only when the wearer desired invisibility, and it wouldn’t interfere with the other spells unless triggered.

She smiled slightly, feeling the magic hum through the necklace. The individual components seemed to work better this way—separate, yet harmonious. Elorie could tell the object was far more stable now.

For the final touch, she inscribed the perception charm, but instead of weaving it directly into the pendant, she traced it along the chain. Each link became a tiny conduit for the magic, distributing the power evenly across the necklace rather than concentrating it all in one place. This would prevent the object from becoming overwhelmed by any one enchantment.

With a deep breath, Elorie tested the finished product. The necklace thrummed lightly in her hand, alive with magic but stable, each spell neatly inscribed into its respective part. She smiled with satisfaction, knowing she had succeeded in finding a way to enhance her enchantments without breaking the objects in the process.

But she wasn’t finished. Curious, she began disassembling the spells mentally, one by one. She started with the perception charm, carefully pulling the threads of magic apart from the chain until the spell evaporated, leaving the necklace intact. She continued to deconstruct each layer, focusing intently, until finally, the last spell—the barrier charm—dissolved into the air.

The necklace remained unchanged physically, but Elorie could feel the void left behind, the absence of magic in the object. It felt... hollow now.

Moving to her desk, Elorie set the now-mundane necklace down gently, the weight of the missing magic almost palpable in the air around her. The room felt quieter without the hum of energy, as though a vital part of it had faded. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples as exhaustion began to settle in. The deconstruction had taken more out of her than she anticipated, but there was also a strange sense of fulfillment that came with it—a deeper understanding of the intricacies of magic she hadn’t yet tapped into before.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the soft breeze from the open window cool her flushed skin. Her thoughts drifted back to the visions, the nightmares that had only grown sharper since she began her ‘therapy’ with Luciana. Though they occurred less frequently now, they lingered in her waking moments—flashes of danger, death. Elorie’s fingers tightened around the edge of her desk. Everything had been spiraling ever since the nightmares started.

She had asked Luciana once, in passing, if there was any way someone could invade her dreams. Luciana had brushed it off, suggesting that it was more likely a manifestation of Elorie’s subconscious fears. But Elorie wasn’t so sure. It all felt too real, too purposeful to be a simple dream.

What if they were watching her? she thought, her heart pounding faster. What if it knows something she didn’t?

She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward the window. The cool breeze did little to calm her now. Outside, Mystic Falls remained deceptively peaceful, its quaint streets and quiet charm belying the dark secrets she knew lurked beneath the surface.

Elorie pressed her palm to the windowpane, her reflection staring back at her with tired, searching eyes. “Who are you?” she whispered, as if the voices might somehow answer through the glass.

But the only response was silence.

"El?" Caroline questioned. She turned. Caroline had abandoned the magazine and was looking at her concerned.

Elorie forced a smile, though she could feel how strained it was. "Yeah?" she asked, her voice a little too light.

Caroline’s brows furrowed as she swung her legs off the bed and stood. “You sure you’re okay?”

Elorie waved a hand dismissively, moving away from the window. “Just tired, that’s all. Too much magic”

Caroline didn’t look convinced. She folded her arms, studying Elorie with that perceptive gaze that made it impossible to hide anything from her. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately. Tired. Distracted. Is this about... your dreams? You still haven’t told me what happened that night?”

Elorie hesitated. It was hard to hide things from Caroline—she had a way of knowing when something was wrong, especially when it came to her best friend.

“It’s... complicated,” Elorie admitted quietly, sinking down onto the edge of her bed. She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, trying to find the right words. “There’s this... thing that keeps showing up in my visions.”

Caroline’s expression softened, concern deepening. She moved closer, sitting next to Elorie. “You think it’s something magical?”

Elorie nodded slowly. “I don’t know what it is, but it feels like its not just in my head. I’ve asked Luciana, but she doesn’t think it’s anything more than my subconscious messing with me.” She bit her lip, lowering her voice. “Just another weird thing to add to the pile”

Later that evening, after Caroline had left, Elorie found herself standing by the window once more. The moon cast a silvery glow over Mystic Falls, shadows dancing between the trees. She stared into the night, her reflection merging with the darkness outside.

"What are you?" she whispered into the stillness, her breath fogging the window slightly. She didn’t know who—or what—she was speaking to, but the question lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of everything she didn’t understand.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves outside, stirring the night, but there was no other answer. No voice, no sign that whatever was pulling at her had heard her. Just the quiet stillness of the night, like it was holding its breath, waiting.

With a sigh, Elorie pulled the curtains closed, shutting out the moonlit world. Tomorrow, she thought, would bring new possibilities. New chances to uncover the truth. She had to hold on to that, even if the truth felt more elusive every day.

Climbing into bed, she pulled the blankets up around her, exhaustion creeping in from every corner. As her eyes fluttered shut, she resolved to face whatever came her way. She couldn’t keep running from the strange pull of the dreams, of the clearing, of the magic that seemed to hum under her skin. She had to figure it out—before it swallowed her whole.

But as sleep began to overtake her, a distant whisper echoed in her mind. It was a familiar voice, one she couldn’t quite place, but the tone was undeniable.

Soon.

Her heart clenched at the word, and she tensed for a moment before sleep finally claimed her.

That night, she dreamed again. And, as always, it was of the clearing.

The tall trees loomed above her, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and something more ancient, more primal. And everywhere she turned, there was that stone. That stupid, cursed rock. It seemed to pulse, almost like it was breathing, calling to her with a pull she couldn’t ignore.

She approached it slowly, every step making her chest tighten with unease. The stone shimmered in the moonlight, its surface smooth and dark, covered with runes that she didn’t understand but somehow felt. They hummed beneath her fingertips as she reached out, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Don’t touch it.

The warning flashed through her mind, but her hand hovered over the stone, trembling as if it had a will of its own. The closer she got, the more that familiar unease grew—like something was watching her, waiting for her to make a mistake.

Just as her fingers brushed the surface of the stone, a sudden coldness swept over her, and she stumbled back, her heart racing. She looked around, but the clearing was empty. Silent. Except for that rock, looming in the center of it all, calling her back, always pulling her closer.

Elorie’s breath came in shallow gasps as she took another step back, her legs weak beneath her. She didn’t know what the stone wanted, but she knew she wasn’t ready to find out.

But even as she tried to retreat, the pull of the rock lingered, tugging at her with an insistent force she couldn’t fully resist.

And then she woke up.

Her body jolted awake, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was quiet, the early morning light filtering in through the cracks in the curtains. But the feeling from the dream still clung to her—like the weight of the stone was pressing down on her, even in the waking world.

Elorie’s hand hovered over the page, her pen poised as she stared at the words she’d just written.

The dreams aren’t just dreams anymore.

She could feel the weight of those words pressing down on her, the truth in them undeniable. For months, her dreams had been haunting her—scenes of strange places, dark figures, and voices that whispered things she couldn’t fully understand. At first, they had been fragmented, easily dismissed as nightmares born from stress. But lately, the dreams had sharpened, the lines between reality and the dream world blurring in a way that left her feeling disoriented when she woke.

Now, it felt like something—or someone—was pulling her into those dreams. Dragging her deeper into the woods, to the clearing, to that stone. The pull had grown stronger, more demanding. Each night, the dreams felt more like a calling, and each morning she awoke with the sensation of having been somewhere far more real than her own bedroom.

Elorie flipped through the pages of her journal, glancing over her previous entries. Pages filled with cryptic messages, fragmented dreams, and scattered thoughts she had tried to make sense of. The harder she tried to decode the meaning behind them, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. It was as though the answers were just out of reach, mocking her attempts to understand.

She let out a frustrated sigh, pushing her hair behind her ear as she stared at the blank page before her. There was something unsettling about the growing clarity of the dreams, and the fact that they seemed to center on that strange place in the woods—the clearing with the stone. It wasn’t just a place in her dreams anymore. It was real. She had been there, buried alive. And somehow, the dreams kept dragging her back to that moment, making her relive it over and over again.

Her session with Luciana today loomed in the back of her mind. They had been trying to make sense of the dreams for weeks, but today Luciana had suggested something different: Dream walking. It was risky, Elorie knew that much. But what scared her more was the alternative—hypnosis. She had turned down that idea the moment Luciana suggested it. There was no way she would put herself at that kind of disadvantage, no way she would allow someone else that kind of control over her mind.

No, dreamwalking seemed like the better option. Even if it felt equally terrifying.

What if this is the only way to figure out what’s happening?

Her pen moved again, almost without thinking, as she jotted down her thoughts.

What if these dreams are more than just my mind unraveling? What if they’re warnings?

Elorie paused, her hand trembling slightly as she stared at the words. Warnings. It was a thought that had crossed her mind more than once, but it hadn’t fully solidified until now. What if the dreams weren’t just nightmares or strange hallucinations? What if they were a way of telling her something, of showing her something she wasn’t ready to see yet?

But if that was the case, then who—or what—is behind it?

Elorie swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. The thought of walking into the dreamscape on purpose, of confronting whatever was lurking there, sent a chill down her spine. But she couldn’t keep running from it. Whatever was happening to her, whatever was trying to reach her, it wasn’t going to stop on its own.

She wrote one last line in her journal before closing it, the pen shaking slightly in her grip.

I need to figure this out. I need to know what’s waiting for me on the other side.

Jenna knocked softly on the door, pulling Elorie out of her swirling thoughts. "It's time to go," she said quietly.

Elorie nodded, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. She grabbed her bag and followed Jenna downstairs, slipping into the passenger seat of the car. The drive out of town was quiet, the only sounds were the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. Neither of them spoke much—Elorie could feel Jenna watching her out of the corner of her eye, concerned, but unsure of what to say.

When they arrived at Luciana’s office, Jenna gave her a quick, reassuring smile. “I’m going to grab some coffee,” she said, nodding toward the building. “Text me when you’re done, okay?”

Elorie nodded, forcing a small smile. “Okay.”

Jenna’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before she turned and walked away, leaving Elorie standing in front of Luciana’s office. Taking a deep breath, Elorie pushed the door open and stepped inside. Luciana was waiting for her, the familiar clinical calm radiating from her.

"Elorie," Luciana greeted, motioning for her to sit. "Get comfortable. I thought it might be easier for you if it was just the two of us today."

Elorie nodded, sinking into the chair. There was a stillness in the air, an unsettling sense of anticipation. Luciana’s gaze was steady, but Elorie could see the subtle curiosity behind her calm demeanor. She knew this was uncharted territory for both of them.

"Are you ready?" Luciana asked, her tone gentle but firm.

Elorie swallowed hard, then nodded. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Luciana gave a small nod of approval. “Good. We’ll take this step by step. You’re in control, remember that.”

Luciana guided her through the initial steps, instructing her to relax, to breathe deeply and let her mind drift. Elorie’s eyes fluttered shut, and soon the sensation of the room faded away, replaced by something darker. Deeper.

When Elorie opened her eyes, she was no longer in Luciana’s office. She was standing in the middle of a forest, thick trees surrounding her in every direction. The air was heavy, the shadows long and unsettling. It wasn’t like any forest she had ever seen before—there was something unnatural about it, as if the very trees were watching her.

Walk in the direction that feels right, Luciana’s voice echoed softly in her mind. Trust your instincts.

Elorie hesitated for a moment, scanning the dark forest around her. Every direction felt suffocating, as though the trees were pressing in on her. But after a moment, she felt a pull—a faint but familiar sensation tugging her to the left. She took a step, then another, her feet crunching softly over the leaves and twigs beneath her.

The forest seemed endless, the trees growing thicker and darker the farther she went. But eventually, the sound of water reached her ears, and she found herself standing on the shore of a vast, still lake. The water was dark and smooth, reflecting the sky above like glass. It felt both familiar and deeply unsettling, like she had been here before in another life.

Elorie took a cautious step closer to the water’s edge, staring down into the inky blackness. As she peered into the lake, her breath caught in her throat. Reflected in the water wasn’t just her face—but several versions of her. Different ages, different expressions, all staring back at her with eyes full of something she couldn’t quite place. Fear? Sadness? Anger? She couldn’t tell.

Her pulse quickened, and she took a step back, overwhelmed by the sight. But before she could process what it meant, a burning sensation flared to life behind her. The heat pressed against her back, so intense it felt like it was scorching her skin. Elorie spun around, her heart racing, and saw a building across the lake—completely engulfed in flames.

The fire crackled and roared, sending sparks into the night sky. The flames danced wildly, casting an eerie light over the lake’s surface. Elorie’s chest tightened with dread, her mind screaming that something was wrong, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight.

She turned back to the lake, her breath coming in short gasps. This time, there was only one reflection looking back at her—just one version of herself. But this version of her was pointing, the reflection’s hand stretched out toward the lake, its expression cold and empty.

Elorie’s heart pounded in her chest, panic rising in her throat. What did it mean? She could feel the lake’s pull, stronger than ever before, beckoning her to step closer, to give in.

Her reflection’s finger remained pointed toward the water, unwavering, its dark eyes staring back at her with a silent command.

Step into the lake.

“Elorie,” Luciana’s voice whispered, cutting through the haze. “You’re in control. Remember that.”

But the reflection in the lake didn’t seem to agree. It continued to beckon her, the flames from the burning building flickering across its surface. The water rippled, as though something beneath the surface was moving, waiting for her.

Elorie’s hands shook, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. The pull of the lake grew stronger, more insistent, and the reflection’s cold eyes never wavered.

Step into the lake.

Elorie took a shaky breath, her mind racing. What am I supposed to do?

Then, without warning, the reflection’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile, and the pull of the water became almost unbearable.

Elorie’s legs trembled as she struggled to keep her footing, her body frozen in place as the flames across the lake crackled louder, almost as if they were waiting for her to make a choice. And then she stepped back, neither of the options intrigued her. The heat from the flames felt real, too real, as they flared violently in front of her. Elorie instinctively raised her hands to shield her face, wincing at the sharp sting of the burning air. She could hear the crackling, smell the smoke, feel the intense pull toward the church engulfed in fire—but just as suddenly as the pain hit, everything shifted.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she was ripped from the dream, her body jerking upright. The dark forest vanished in an instant, replaced by the sterile, familiar confines of Luciana’s office. The cool air of the room hit her like a shock, but something still felt wrong. Terribly wrong.

Luciana, who had been sitting across from her, was staring in open shock, her eyes wide as they darted down to Elorie’s hands. “Elorie...” she whispered, pointing with trembling fingers.

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat as she followed Luciana’s gaze, her heart sinking into her stomach. Her hands—where she had shielded her face in the dream—were now marked with angry, red burns, the skin winding with the unmistakable signs of fire.

No. No way.

She could feel the heat radiating from the marks, the pain still throbbing under her skin. It wasn’t possible. This had been a dream, just a dream. There was no way it could leave real, physical burns. But there they were, glaring up at her, undeniable proof that something had followed her out of that dreamscape.

Elorie’s mouth went dry, her mind racing as the weight of what had just happened sank in. She had no explanation for it. None. And the look on Luciana’s face told her that whatever had just occurred wasn’t something that could be easily brushed off.

Before Luciana could speak, before the questions could come, Elorie shot to her feet. Panic bubbled up inside her, threatening to consume her. “I... I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice shaky as she backed toward the door. “I didn’t mean... I need to go.”

“Elorie, wait!” Luciana stood, concern etched across her face, but Elorie was already moving.

“Thank you for your help,” Elorie blurted, her words rushing out in a jumbled mess. “I just... I need to think. I need to figure this out.”

Without waiting for a response, Elorie bolted out of the office, her feet carrying her as fast as they could down the hallway. Her thoughts swirled in chaos, the image of the burning church and her reflection pointing into the lake flashing in her mind over and over again. The burns on her hands throbbed with each beat of her heart, a constant reminder that this had been more than just a terrible nightmare.

This was a terrible idea.

She burst through the door of the building and into the open air, her breath coming in quick gasps. She didn’t even stop to check her phone for Jenna. She needed to get away, to clear her head, to figure out what had just happened. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

The dreams were bad enough, but now the line between them and reality had blurred in a way that terrified her. She had no control over this—none.

When Elorie found Jenna, she was certain she looked insane—her hair a mess, her hands trembling, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. Jenna’s eyes widened as soon as she saw her, confusion and concern etched into every line of her face.

"Elorie?" Jenna’s voice was sharp with alarm. "What happened? Luciana called me. She said you just... rushed out."

Elorie opened her mouth, but no words came. How could she explain what had just happened? How could she tell Jenna about the dream—the fire, the stone, the fact that it had somehow burned her for real? She glanced down at her hands, the angry red marks winding up her skin like an accusation. They seemed even worse now in the daylight.

Jenna followed her gaze, her breath hitching as she saw the burns. "Ellie! What—what is this?" Jenna’s voice cracked, her fingers hovering near Elorie’s hands but not quite touching them. “How... how did this happen?”

“I...mom” Elorie’s throat tightened. She couldn’t explain it, not in a way that would make sense. She couldn’t even make sense of it herself. "I—I don't know. We have to leave. We have to—"

"Hold on." Jenna's voice cut through her panic with the firmness of someone trying desperately to keep control. "You’re hurt, Elorie. We need to treat those burns before we go anywhere."

"I’m fine," Elorie insisted, trying to pull away, her heart still racing. "Mom, please—we need to leave. I can’t—"

But Jenna wasn’t listening. She shook her head and took Elorie by the wrist, gently but firmly guiding her toward the door. “We’re going to the pharmacy first. Then we can talk about whatever’s going on. But I’m not letting you walk around like this.”

Elorie tried to protest, but she could see the determination in Jenna’s eyes. It wasn’t the kind of determination that could be argued with. So, reluctantly, she followed Jenna to the car.

The ride to the pharmacy felt like it stretched for hours. Elorie could feel the burning on her hands pulsing in time with her heartbeat, but it was more than just physical pain. It was like the memory of the fire in her dream had somehow seeped into her skin. She could still see that stone, still feel the pull of the clearing. And the thought of staying in Mystic Falls, staying close to it, sent chills down her spine.

Once inside the pharmacy, Jenna rushed to grab burn ointment and wraps, all while throwing worried glances at Elorie. It was obvious she wanted to ask questions, but she didn’t. Not yet.

When they got back to the car, Jenna parked outside in the lot, turning to Elorie with a calm but firm expression. "Here. Let me see your hands."

Elorie hesitated, biting her lip. “Mom, we need to go. I can’t—”

“Not until I help you,” Jenna interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re not running off until I know you’re okay. Now, give me your hands.”

With a heavy sigh, Elorie relented, holding out her hands for Jenna to see. The burns still throbbed with an unnatural heat, the red marks winding like angry vines across her skin.

Jenna winced as she gently applied the ointment, wrapping the bandages carefully around Elorie’s hands. “I don’t understand,” she said quietly as she worked. “How did this happen? You weren’t near any fire. Luciana didn’t say anything about—”

“I don’t know, Mom,” Elorie finally whispered, her voice breaking. “It was in my dream, and then... it was real. It’s like... it followed me out of the dream. I can’t explain it.”

Jenna paused, her hands stilling as she looked up at Elorie, her face full of concern. “Dreams don’t leave physical burns, Elorie. Something else happened. Are you sure Luciana didn’t...?”

“No,” Elorie interrupted, shaking her head quickly. “It wasn’t her. It was something in the dream,” Her voice faltered. “Mom, it’s getting worse. The dreams…everything. I don’t know how to stop it.”

Jenna’s face softened, and she reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Elorie’s face. “Okay Okay. Maybe this was a bad idea. Let's go home…we can call Enzo. I dont think we’re going to find what we need here.”

Elorie nodded, though the unease didn’t leave her. Jenna gently finished wrapping Elorie’s hands, her touch soft despite the worry lines etched deeply into her face. She sat back, examining her work with a furrowed brow, her eyes flicking back and forth between Elorie’s hands and her face as if trying to make sense of something that simply didn’t fit into her world.

Elorie hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Yeah. Home sounds good."

They drove in silence, the weight of unspoken fears hanging thick between them. Elorie stared out the window, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn’t quite grasp. Each mile felt like a stretch further into uncertainty. The burning sensation on her hands had dulled to a faint throb, but it was a constant reminder of what had happened. The mark left by something that shouldn’t have been able to touch her.

As they pulled into the driveway, Elorie felt a strange mixture of comfort and dread settle in her chest. The familiar sight of the house—a place that should have felt like a sanctuary—did little to ease the tension inside her. This was supposed to be her safe space, the one place where the world outside couldn’t get in. She had worked carefully to prevent malignant forces, Bennett's ancestors, from laying protection wards around the house. Wards that had held strong against all kinds of magical interference.

But whatever was following her now... it was stronger. More invasive. It had seeped through those protective barriers like they weren’t even there.

Elorie’s fingers tightened around the bandages on her hands as she stepped out of the car, a cold dread creeping up her spine. She could feel it—the presence lingering just on the edge of her awareness, watching, waiting. Every time she thought she had escaped, it pulled her back in.

How had it gotten past the wards? she wondered, her thoughts racing. The protection spells she had pulled from the Bennett grimoire should have been powerful enough to shield against even the darkest magic. But this... this was different. It wasn’t just dark magic. It was ancient, primal. And she felt like it wanted her.

Jenna hadn’t said much on the drive home, though Elorie could tell she was holding back questions. Jenna always knew when something was wrong, even when Elorie didn’t speak. And while Elorie appreciated Jenna’s attempt to give her space, it only made the weight pressing down on her feel heavier.

This isn’t right, she thought, her heart pounding in her chest. It shouldn’t be able to get this close.

Chapter Text

As they walked closer to the house, Elorie noticed two figures standing in the shadows near the front porch. Her stomach twisted, and instinctively, she shrank behind Jenna, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know who these people were, but something about their presence felt heavy, foreboding.

The older of the two strangers stepped forward first. There was something commanding about her, a quiet, measured elegance in the way she carried herself. She was an older woman, perhaps in her late sixties, with sharp, discerning eyes that seemed to take in every detail of the surroundings with a single glance. Her long, silver hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and she wore a tailored, dark green dress that gave her an air of old-world sophistication.

The younger woman, standing beside her, looked far less impressed with the situation. Her dark hair was teased into a short pixie cut, and she wore a scowl that didn’t seem to leave her face. She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes dramatically as soon as she saw Elorie and Jenna approach.

“Finally,” the younger woman muttered, exasperation dripping from her voice.

Jenna stepped protectively in front of Elorie, her hand subtly gripping her arm as they neared the strangers. "Can we help you?" Jenna asked, her tone cautious.

The older woman smiled faintly, a gesture that seemed more calculated than warm. “I do hope so,” she said in a crisp, measured tone. “My name is Valerie Kincaid. I’ve been sent by your mother, Elorie.”

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. Her mother? When Diana said she was sending help she expected another spell book or maybe some kind of magical item but this? She hadn’t expected this, and the cryptic phone call from her hadn’t exactly filled Elorie with hope. Now, out of nowhere, her mother had sent witches to her house. Her body tensed, her mind racing as she tried to process the information.

“Why?” Jenna’s voice was sharp, her body tense beside Elorie. “Why would Diana send you now, after all this time?”

“Because, Ms. Sommers, Elorie’s situation has changed. Circumstances have become... more urgent.” Valerie nodded, her gaze shifting to Elorie with an intensity that made her feel like the woman could see right through her. “Diana reached out to me, concerned for her daughter’s well-being,” she explained, her voice calm, as though this were all perfectly normal. “She believes you’re in danger, Elorie. And she thought you might need a bit more... guidance than you’ve been receiving.”

Elorie’s jaw clenched, anger bubbling beneath the surface. The nerve of her mother. After years of silence, after leaving her behind to fend for herself, now Diana was concerned. And she hadn’t even come herself—she had sent strangers instead.

“Is that so?” Elorie’s voice was colder than she intended, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag. “She couldn’t even bother to call herself?”

The younger woman scoffed, flipping her short hair out of her face with an impatient wave. “You think she’s going to come back here? You don’t know her at all, do you?”

Valerie shot the younger woman a sharp look, silencing her. “This is Nia,” she said, motioning to the younger woman. “My apprentice. She’ll be helping us. I wasn’t sure what we were walking into so we wanted to make sure we had enough help to assist.”

Elorie’s eyes flicked between the two of them, her gut churning. “I don’t need help,” she bit out, though even she didn’t believe the words. Her burns, her dreams, the pull of the stone in the clearing—everything had been spiraling out of control. But she didn’t want to accept help from her mother.

Valerie stepped closer, her tone softening ever so slightly. “I understand that you may feel hesitant, Elorie. But Diana made it clear—your magic what you’re dealing with isn’t something you should try to face alone at this time. There seems to be forces at work that neither you nor your guardian here can handle without proper guidance.”

Jenna frowned, her eyes narrowing. “And we’re supposed to just... trust you? After all this time?”

Valerie met Jenna’s gaze evenly, her expression never wavering. “I know it’s difficult to accept. But based on what I can only assume are recent escalation” She motioned to Elorie’s hands, “I don’t think you have much of a choice.”

Elorie flinched, at Valerie’s words. Her magic surged inside her, things were spiraling out of control faster than she could pull them back together.

Valerie leaned forward slightly. “We’ve been keeping an eye on Mystic Falls ever since Diana told us of your existence. For a long time, you stayed off the radar, almost as if you were deliberately trying not to use magic. But then last week... there was a surge of power, so large it was impossible to ignore. I’m surprised I’m the first witch to come knocking at your door.”

Elorie clenched her fists under the table, trying to suppress the rising panic. “What kind of guidance are you offering?” she asked, though her voice wavered with both curiosity and apprehension.

Valerie smiled, her eyes gleaming with a mix of warmth and challenge. “I am here to teach you, to help you understand your power and how to wield it properly. You have much potential, Elorie, but power without control is dangerous. Your mother knew that, and she trusted me to help you find the balance you’ll need.”

Elorie’s mind raced, processing the weight of Valerie’s words. This was the mentor she had desperately been searching for—someone who could help her navigate the growing darkness inside her. But still, it felt too sudden, too unexpected. Could she really trust this woman, someone her mother had sent, after years of abandonment?

“No, thank you,” Elorie finally said, her voice trembling with a mix of unease. “I'm pretty spent on trusting random people offering help right now.”

Valerie’s sharp eyes flickered with something unreadable as Elorie's rejection hung in the air. The older woman tilted her head slightly, her composed demeanor never faltering. Nia, on the other hand, snorted in frustration and rolled her eyes.

“Well, that went about as well as expected,” Nia muttered under her breath, but her voice was loud enough for Elorie to catch.

Elorie shot her a look, a flicker of annoyance rising inside her. “You’ve got something to say?”

Nia’s smirk deepened as she crossed her arms. “Just that you’re making a mistake. But hey, what do I know, right? I’m just the apprentice.”

Elorie’s stomach churned with frustration. Everything felt like a mess, and the last thing she needed was someone coming into her life, making demands. She didn’t trust Valerie, and she definitely didn’t trust Nia. But her magic had been slipping more and more, and the idea of ignoring the situation, of turning away from the help her mother—Diana—had sent, gnawed at her. As much as she resented her mother for her absence, her warning couldn’t be taken lightly.

Jenna, sensing the tension mounting, stepped in, her tone measured. “Let’s just take a step back for a second. Elorie, maybe we should at least hear them out.”

Elorie shot Jenna a look of disbelief, her voice tight. “You want me to listen to them? After everything my mother’s done—or hasn’t done?”

Jenna put a calming hand on Elorie’s arm. “I don’t trust them completely either, but something is happening here—something bigger than we can manage alone. We need to be smart about this.”

Valerie, still standing calmly, took a slow step forward. “I understand your hesitation, Elorie. Truly, I do. But your mother sent me because she cares about your safety. She knows you’re in danger, and that things are spiraling beyond your control. You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”

The words hit harder than Elorie expected. Her heartbeat quickened, and the tightness in her chest returned. She had felt it—the magic inside her was unstable, unpredictable. The burns on her hands, the vivid dreams, the strange pull to the stone in the clearing—it all pointed to something larger, something she couldn’t handle alone. But the idea of accepting help from someone sent by her mother... it felt like betrayal.

Elorie’s fists clenched at her sides, her mind spinning. Valerie’s words echoed in her head, stirring the same fears she had been trying to suppress. The truth was undeniable—she was losing control. And if she didn’t do something soon, people she cared about could get hurt. Jenna, Caroline, Jeremey...The thought of hurting them, of losing them because of her own inability to control her magic, made her stomach churn.

Jenna’s grip on her arm tightened slightly, pulling her back to the moment. “Elorie, we don’t have to make any decisions right now. But maybe… maybe we should just hear them out.”

Elorie let out a slow breath, her frustration slowly deflating into something closer to resignation. She hated this—hated feeling like she was out of options like she had no control over her own life. But the truth was, she was out of options. The magic was slipping, and if she didn’t act soon, it would consume her.

“Fine,” Elorie finally said, her voice tight. “You can come in, and we’ll talk. But that’s it. No promises.”

“That’s all we ask.” Valerie nodded, a faint smile on her lips, though her eyes remained serious. “Let’s take a walk I’d like to talk to you privately. Miss. Sommers, if you would be so kind to show Nia to the kitchen some tea would be nice.”

The air inside the house suddenly felt stifling, as if the weight of what was coming next was too much to bear in the confines of walls. Elorie followed Valerie out the front door, Jenna lingering in the doorway, her worried gaze following them into the night. The cool evening breeze greeted them as they stepped outside, the streets of Mystic Falls quiet and still. They walked in silence for a while, Valerie’s presence steady and commanding, while Elorie’s mind raced with anticipation and nerves. The crisp air helped clear her head, but the weight of what Valerie had said still hung heavily on her.

Valerie’s sharp eyes flickered with interest as she watched Elorie closely. The evening air felt still, almost heavy as if it were holding its breath. They stood outside the house, the moonlight casting faint shadows across the porch, and for a moment, Elorie thought the world itself had gone silent.

Finally, Valerie spoke, her voice thoughtful. “Tell me, Elorie, what do you know about siphoners? Did your coven ever teach you about them?”

Elorie hesitated, feeling a pang of unease. “Not much,” she admitted. “I’ve only heard bits and pieces... mainly that we’re hated because of how we get our magic. But I don’t really know anything about them, or... about what being part of a coven means.”

Valerie nodded, her expression unreadable as they continued walking. “And your father?”

Elorie felt a flicker of discomfort. “I-I don’t know,” she said slowly. “No one wants to tell me anything about him. I know the basics I suppose of how my magic works I’ve been teaching myself.”

Valerie’s gaze softened slightly. “As you know you’re a siphoner, Elorie—a witch born without the ability to generate your own magic. Instead, you have the rare and dangerous gift of siphoning magic from other sources.” Valerie hesitated for a moment before continuing. “There have been rumors. Your mother has never confirmed or denied them, but after your birth, the Anders Coven and the Gemini Coven have been at odds ever since. Then there was an incident in 1994, you would’ve been two at the time do you remember anything from that time?”

“The Gemini Coven?” Elorie repeated, frowning. “I… don’t know the name. And who remembers anything from when they were two…?”

Valerie nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging Elorie’s confusion. “Of course, it’s not common to remember much from such a young age,” she said, her voice steady, but there was something probing behind her eyes, as if she was searching for signs that Elorie might know more than she let on. “Still, it’s important you understand that your family’s connection to the Gemini Coven was... significant.”

Elorie frowned, her mind racing. The name Gemini rang no bells, and her frustration flared at the lack of clear answers. “My mother never mentioned any of this. Why would they be at odds? What happened?”

Valerie’s expression darkened, a shadow of something unreadable passing across her face. “The Gemini Coven is... complicated. They have a very strict hierarchy, and they believe in keeping the magical balance intact at all costs. Siphoners, like yourself, are seen as an anomaly—an abomination, even—because you take magic rather than create it. The coven is known for being ruthless toward siphons within their own ranks. Chances are if your father was a siphon…”

“He was from that Coven.” Elorie finished for her breathless.

Valerie’s gaze flickered with something darker, something Elorie couldn’t quite name. “There are whispers that your father may have been connected to magic in a way the Gemini Coven had never seen before. Rumors that perhaps he wasn’t just a siphon, but someone capable of wielding magic in ways that broke their rules. If that’s true, it would explain why the covens were so intent on keeping your existence under wraps.”

Elorie’s chest tightened, her mind reeling. She had spent her entire life wondering about her father—who he was, where he had gone—but hearing this, the mystery only deepened. If her father had been some kind of anomaly, some magical being the coven feared... what did that mean for her? A father she had never known, a coven she had never heard of, and a power she barely understood—everything she thought she knew about herself was unraveling. Her fingers twitched at her side, instinctively seeking the pendant hanging around her neck, a small source of comfort amidst the chaos.

“Do you know who?” Elorie’s voice came out breathless, the question slipping out before she could stop it. There was a desperation there, a need for answers that had been buried deep inside her for as long as she could remember. If her father was tied to this dangerous coven, if he was someone the Gemini feared... she needed to know. She needed something tangible to hold on to.

Valerie’s expression shifted, growing even more unreadable. The silence that stretched between them felt heavy, charged with something Elorie couldn’t quite name. “It’s not for me to say,” Valerie finally replied, her voice firm but not unkind. “Who your father is—or isn’t—will have very little bearing on the problems you’re facing now.”

Elorie’s brow furrowed in frustration, her heart sinking a little at Valerie’s evasiveness. “But—”

“Even if I knew the truth, it wouldn’t change the situation in front of us,” Valerie continued, cutting her off gently. “What matters now is focusing on your situation. Even now, I can feel how volatile your magic is. It’s... unfocused, but powerful. And uncontrolled power is dangerous.”

Elorie’s heart raced. “What do you mean? I haven’t done anything—”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, giving her a pointed look. “Really?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “You’re siphoning magic as we speak.”

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat. “What? No, I’m not.” Her hands instinctively went to the pendant around her neck where she had been storing magic for her use. It had been empty for days. A risky countermeasure, but one she thought was necessary in light of the fact that she was sleep walking.

Valerie’s lips twitched with amusement, but her gaze remained serious. “One of my gifts, Elorie, is the ability to see people’s auras. I can see their magic—the way it flows, the way it moves. And I can see yours, very clearly. You’re drawing in magic even now, despite not touching anyone or anything. You’re pulling from the surrounding area, like an open channel.”

Elorie’s mouth went dry. She looked down at her necklace, clutching it between her fingers. “Thats not possible. There’s no magic in my necklace,” she stammered.

Valerie’s gaze flicked to the necklace, her brow furrowing in mild disbelief. “Thats entirely too small to be the source of what I’m feeling,” she said, her voice tinged with curiosity. “The amount of magic you’re drawing... it’s too much. This is something more.”

A chill ran down Elorie’s spine. “Then... where is it coming from?”

Valerie studied her for a moment, her eyes narrowing as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “That’s what we need to find out.” She paused, her gaze becoming more intense. “Has anything changed recently? Have you come into contact with a large magical object or place that could be amplifying your abilities?”

Elorie’s breath quickened. Her mind flashed back to the clearing. The stone. The dreams. She had been drawn to that place, pulled toward it like a moth to a flame. The pull had only grown stronger with each passing night, its presence seeping into her dreams, her thoughts—everything.

The clearing.

The rock.

Elorie swallowed hard, the realization settling like a weight in her chest. “There’s a place,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “A clearing in the woods behind my house. I found... something there. A rock, with runes carved into it. I thought it was someone’s grave. I warded it so people would wander near but ever since then, I’ve been feeling... different.

Valerie’s eyes flashed with confusion, her lips pressing into a thin line. “An ancient grave?” she repeated, her tone mockingly serious.

Elorie’s breath hitched, her throat tightening as she tried to piece together the strange pull she’d felt ever since discovering the clearing. The memory of the stone loomed larger in her mind now, the runes carved into its surface flashing behind her eyes like a beacon.

"Yeah," Elorie muttered, her voice almost lost in the weight of the realization. "It’s got these old runes on it. I thought it was a grave—maybe for a witch or someone important. I didn’t know what else to think."

Valerie’s lips curled slightly in amusement, but her eyes remained cold and assessing. “A grave? Out here?” she repeated, her voice laced with skepticism. “Do you honestly believe an ancient witch’s grave would be lying, unprotected, in the woods behind your house? Unlikely.”

Elorie’s heart sank. “I—I don’t know. I thought it might be—”

Valerie held up a hand, stopping her. “Whatever it is, it’s clearly not a ordinary grave. If it were, you wouldn’t be drawing magic from it. Graves hold the dead. This... seems to be something far more powerful. It sounds like you’ve become a conduit for this thing, a focus point for energy.”

Elorie stared at her, wide-eyed. A conduit? The idea hit her like a shock to the system. Had she been siphoning from something much larger than herself without even realizing it?

Valerie stood, her posture graceful but commanding. “The magic you’re channeling isn’t just floating in the air. It sounds to me like its coming from that stone—or whatever lies beneath it.” Her gaze softened slightly, though her voice stayed firm. “If you’ve warded it, you may have unintentionally activated it. Whatever protections you thought you laid may have opened up an ancient source of power.”

Elorie’s mouth went dry, her thoughts swirling in chaos. She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. The wards had been to protect people from stumbling upon the stone, not activate something ancient and dangerous.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I thought I was helping, not—”

“I know,” Valerie interrupted, her tone a mix of sympathy and practicality. “But ignorance won’t protect you from the consequences of magic like this. What you’ve done could have massive implications.”

Elorie’s legs felt shaky, the weight of her mistake crashing down on her. "What do I do now?"

Valerie’s sharp gaze met hers, assessing her for a moment before she spoke. “First, we should probably figure out if that really was a grave, and who was buried there. We will need to return to the clearing. If that stone is the source of your power, we need to sever your connection to it before it overwhelms you completely. The magic will consume you if we let it continue unchecked.”

Elorie’s heart raced, fear gripping her chest. "Consume me?" she repeated, her voice tight.

“Yes,” Valerie replied matter-of-factly. “You’re already drawing magic unconsciously. I’m sure you’ve noticed your control is slipping. It would’ve started small, but soon enough, you’ll lose the ability to stop it. You’ll siphon more than you can handle, and the magic may even tear you apart. Who knows, no ones exactly tried to see how much magic a siphon can handle.”

Elorie felt a surge of panic. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t know it was dangerous.”

“It’s not about intent,” Valerie said, her voice softening, though her gaze remained sharp. “Magic like that doesn’t care about what you meant to do. It responds to power, to need. And you, Elorie, are a siphon. A conduit of magic yourself. The moment you came into contact with that stone, it likely began amplifying your abilities—feeding off the ambient magic in the area and funneling it through you.”

Elorie’s hands trembled as she gripped her necklace tighter, her mind racing. “I thought the necklace was enough... that it was keeping me in control.”

Valerie shook her head gently. “That trinket may help a little, but it’s not nearly enough to contain the kind of power you’re channeling now. You’re connected to something far older, far more potent than you realize. And if we don’t address it soon, it’s going to consume you.”

Elorie’s heart pounded in her chest, a wave of fear washing over her. “The clearing,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I need to go back there.”

Valerie nodded, her expression unreadable. “Yes, we do. But we need to be cautious. If the rock is what I think it is, then it could be drawing more than just ambient magic. It could be attracting... other things.”

“Other things?” Elorie’s voice wavered, her fear sharpening.

Valerie’s gaze darkened. “There are forces in this world that are always searching for sources of power. And when they find it... they take it. If you’re connected to that stone, it could be painting a target on your back.”

Jenna locked the bathroom door behind her, her fingers trembling as she pulled out her phone. The weight of everything was crushing her, and the situation with Valerie and Nia had only intensified her anxiety. Witches, ancient powers—things she barely understood, things she couldn’t possibly manage on her own. This wasn’t a world she was equipped to handle, and she knew it. Her thumb hovered over Enzo’s contact before she pressed Call. She needed him. Elorie needed him. She didn’t even know what to ask, only that they were spiraling out of control, and Enzo always seemed to know what to do.

The phone rang twice before she heard his smooth voice, his usual air of calm was replaced with breathlessness. “Jenna, darling. What’s going on?”

The familiar warmth in his voice nearly broke her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep her composure. “Enzo, I... I’m sorry. I know you’re busy but we… I need your help.” Her voice cracked despite her best efforts to sound steady. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

There was a brief pause, his tone shifting immediately to concern. “What’s happened? Is Ellie alright?”

Jenna let out a shaky breath. “It’s bad, Enzo. Really bad. There are two witches here—one of them says she was sent by Diana to help but she... she knows everything about Elorie’s powers, and she’s talking like it’s spiraling out of control. I can’t... I can’t handle this on my own. I’m out of my depth.”

Enzo was silent for a beat, absorbing the weight of her words. “Two witches, you said? And one of them knows about her mother? Bloody hell.”

Jenna’s voice grew more urgent, the fear bubbling up again. “Enzo, I’m scared for her.”

She heard Enzo let out a low breath on the other end. “I get it, Jenna. This... this sounds serious. But I can’t come back to Mystic Falls yet. It’s too risky right now.”

Jenna’s heart sank. She had known he couldn’t return yet, but hearing him say it made the situation feel even more dire. “I know,” she whispered, fighting back the frustration. “I know you can’t. But there has to be something you can do. I can’t stand here and watch her slip away.”

Enzo’s voice was calm but firm, his mind clearly working through possible solutions. “Alright. First things first—you need to keep an eye on her and these witches. You should confirm with Diana that she really was the one who sent them. You said the witches are talking about her magic being out of control. Did they say anything about how she’s drawing it? From where?”

Jenna swallowed hard. “Valerie said its almost like she’s pulling it from everywhere, even without meaning to. She’s siphoning magic from the area, from everything around her. It’s like it’s happening without her realizing.”

A low hum from Enzo, and Jenna could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “That can’t be good,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

Jenna’s voice cracked, her desperation rising. “Then what do I do? I can’t lose her, Enzo. I need your help. She needs your help.”

There was a pause before Enzo spoke again, his voice soft but laced with determination. “Jenna, listen to me. You’re doing everything you can. You’ve kept her safe, and that’s what matters. Keep Elorie close, keep her safe, and don’t let her out of your sight until I figure out how to help from my end.”

Jenna felt the tears threatening to spill. “But what if Valerie’s wrong? What if this magic is too much? I don’t even know what kind of danger we’re dealing with.”

Enzo’s tone softened, the warmth returning to his voice. “I know it’s terrifying, love. But you’re not alone in figuring this out. I’ll make some calls, reach out to a few contacts who know more about ancient magic than I do. We’ll find a way to stop this before it spirals. But for now, you need to hold the line.”

She leaned against the wall, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I just... I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this.”

“You are,” Enzo said firmly. “You’re stronger than you think. Elorie’s lucky to have you, and she needs you now more than ever. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but until then, I trust you. And Jenna, I’m with you every step of the way.”

Jenna took a shaky breath, feeling a small wave of relief. “Thank you, Enzo. Just... hurry, okay?”

“I’m already working on it,” he promised, the conviction in his voice unwavering. “Stay strong, love. I’ll be in touch soon.”

The call ended, and Jenna stood there in the silence of the bathroom, her heart still racing but the weight on her chest feeling a little lighter. Enzo couldn’t come back to Mystic Falls, but knowing he was on her side, working to find a solution—it was enough to keep her going.

Taking a deep breath, Jenna slipped her phone into her pocket and splashed water on her face, trying to steady her nerves. She couldn’t afford to lose it now. When she stepped back into the hallway, the low murmur of voices floated in from the kitchen. Valerie was back inside, her presence commanding even from a distance, and Nia was serving her tea. Elorie sat quietly at the kitchen island, her gaze distant, her mind clearly elsewhere. Jenna’s heart twisted at the sight—her niece looked so small, so lost, surrounded by the heaviness of it all.

I have to protect her, Jenna thought, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. No matter what it took, she would keep Elorie safe.

After tea, Valerie and Nia moved with purpose, clearing the furniture from the living room with the ease of those accustomed to rituals. Nia crouched low, drawing a large sigil in white chalk across the wooden floor, her strokes precise and sure. The intricate design spread in wide, looping arcs, meeting in the center with an unsettling symmetry that made the air feel heavier.

Valerie stood to the side, laying out candles at the points of the sigil. She worked methodically, her movements deliberate, her expression focused. When she finished, she straightened and turned toward Elorie and Jenna, her sharp eyes gleaming with quiet authority.

“We’re going to attempt something temporary,” Valerie began, her voice low but firm. “A seal on Elorie’s magic. The connection she has to that grave, to the force pulling on her life force—it’s growing stronger. We need time to sever it properly, and this will buy us that time.”

Jenna shifted uneasily. “You can seal her magic?”

Valerie nodded, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in her expression. “We can try. The magic that’s tethered to her is old, dangerous. But if we can seal it for now, it should prevent the entity from drawing further on Elorie’s energy. It will also help stabilize her, keep her from siphoning unintentionally.”

Elorie finally spoke, her voice quiet but trembling. “And what if it doesn’t work?”

Valerie’s eyes softened, just a fraction. “Then we’ll find another way. But this—this is our best chance at giving you relief until we can purify the grave and sever the connection entirely.”

Elorie nodded, though Jenna could see the tension in her shoulders, the fear she was trying to keep hidden. She was so young to be burdened with this kind of power, this kind of danger. It wasn’t fair.

Valerie continued, her tone measured. “The sigil will act as a containment field, limiting the magic that can flow in and out. It won’t solve the problem, but it will slow the entity’s ability to feed off you. You’ll feel the difference immediately—it will be like a weight has been lifted.”

Jenna stepped closer, her protective instincts kicking in. “Is it safe?”

Nia, who had been quiet until now, glanced up from her work, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “As safe as any ritual dealing with ancient, unholy forces,” she said, her tone light but edged with a hint of darkness. “But don’t worry, we’ve done this kind of thing before.”

Jenna shot her a sharp look, not appreciating the casual approach. Valerie, however, ignored Nia’s comment and focused on Elorie.

“Elorie,” Valerie said softly, stepping closer to the girl. “This may feel uncomfortable, but I need you to trust me. We’re doing this to protect you. Do you understand?”

Elorie nodded, though the anxiety in her eyes was clear. “I understand.”

Jenna’s heart ached, watching her niece stand there so bravely, holding herself together even when the world around her was falling apart. She stepped forward, gently placing a hand on Elorie’s shoulder. “I’m here, Ellie. I’m not going anywhere.”

Elorie gave her a weak smile, the corners of her mouth trembling. “Thanks, Aunt Jenna.”

Valerie moved to stand in the center of the sigil, gesturing for Elorie to join her. Nia lit the candles one by one, the flames casting flickering shadows across the room. The air grew thick, charged with magic, and Jenna could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

“Elorie,” Valerie said, her voice calm but commanding, “I need you to step into the center of the sigil. Close your eyes, and focus on the sound of my voice. Don’t think about the magic, don’t think about the connection—just focus on me.”

Elorie hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the center of the chalk drawing, her movements stiff and cautious. She closed her eyes, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. Jenna stood back, watching with a mixture of fear and hope.

Elorie hesitated for a moment, her entire body tense as she stepped into the center of the chalk drawing, her legs shaky beneath her. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to stop, but she forced herself to move forward. She clenched her fists tightly at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. Jenna stood back, watching with a mixture of fear and hope, her eyes wide and filled with silent prayers.

Valerie stood at the edge of the circle, her hands raised, fingers twitching with controlled energy. Her voice was low and rhythmic as she began chanting in an ancient language that sent a shiver down Elorie’s spine. The flicker of candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across the room, and the sigil on the floor started to glow faintly, its magic coming to life.

Elorie’s breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to focus. The air around her felt thick, almost suffocating, and she could feel the weight of the magic pressing in on her, coiling tighter and tighter around her like an invisible vice.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, all at once, the magic seemed to slam into her. Elorie gasped, her entire body jerking violently as if something had seized control of her from the inside. It felt like a cold hand had reached into her chest and gripped her heart, squeezing tighter with each breath she tried to take. Panic flooded her veins.

Jenna took a step forward, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear. “Elorie?”

But Valerie didn’t waver. Her chanting continued, her focus unbroken. The glow of the sigil intensified, the energy in the room growing stronger, denser, as it wrapped itself around Elorie.

Elorie’s body spasmed again, harder this time. Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps, her chest heaving with the effort. It felt like the magic was crushing her, suffocating her from the inside out. Her heart pounded in her ears, the sound deafening, drowning out Valerie’s words. Her vision blurred as a cold, dark fog crept into her mind.

Something was wrong. She needed to tell Valerie—needed to scream, to make her stop—but the words stuck in her throat, trapped beneath the suffocating weight that had taken hold of her.

Her body convulsed one last time, and then everything went black.

“Elorie!” Jenna’s scream pierced the air just as Elorie’s eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed, her body going limp.

The candles flickered wildly, the room momentarily engulfed in shadows as the sigil’s glow dimmed. Valerie’s chanting stopped abruptly, her eyes wide with alarm as she rushed to Elorie’s side. Jenna was already there, dropping to her knees next to her niece, her hands trembling as she tried to shake her awake.

“Ellie! Ellie, wake up!” Jenna’s voice cracked with desperation, her heart pounding in her chest as she frantically searched for signs of life.

Elorie’s body lay still, her face pale and drenched in sweat. Her breathing was shallow, barely there, as if something was holding her just on the edge of consciousness, preventing her from fully waking.

Valerie knelt beside them, her expression unreadable but tense. “She’s still here,” she said quietly, her hand hovering over Elorie’s chest. “The seal disrupted something inside her. Something deep. It was fighting back.”

Jenna’s hands shook as she cupped Elorie’s face, her voice barely holding back the sobs threatening to spill. “What does that mean? What happened to her?”

Valerie glanced at Jenna, her tone grim but controlled. “Whatever force is tethered to her—whether it’s the magic from the grave or something else—it didn’t like being sealed. It fought back, and now it’s trying to pull her under. We need to act fast.”

“What does that mean?"  Jenna’s mind raced, fear clawing at her chest. Her hands shook as she cupped Elorie’s face, her voice barely holding back the sobs threatening to spill. “She's barely breathing…What happened to her?”

Valerie glanced at Jenna, her tone grim but controlled. “Whatever force is tethered to her—whether it’s the magic from the grave or something else—it didn’t like being sealed. It fought back, and now it’s trying to pull her under. We need to act fast.”

Jenna’s mind raced, fear clawing at her chest. She could barely keep the panic at bay. “She’s barely breathing, Valerie.” Her voice trembled with desperation, her heart thundering in her ears.

Valerie's jaw clenched, her usual calm demeanor faltering ever so slightly. “This was… an unforeseen result,” she admitted, her tone tight with controlled urgency. She pressed two fingers to Elorie’s neck, checking for a pulse. “Is there a hospital nearby?”

Jenna blinked, stunned at the suggestion. “A hospital? She doesn’t need—she’s not—”

Valerie interrupted her voice firm but not unkind. “If this escalates and she doesn’t wake up soon, we may not have the luxury of waiting for magical solutions. Our priority is keeping the girl alive.”

Jenna’s heart stuttered. Elorie’s pale, almost lifeless form lay limp in her arms, and for the first time, Jenna felt completely powerless.“There’s the Hospital on the edge of town,” Jenna said shakily. “But will they even know what’s happening to her? Will they be able to help?”

Valerie’s gaze softened for a brief moment. “They can stabilize her body. That might buy us time. We need her strong enough to resist whatever’s pulling her under.”

Jenna swallowed hard and nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. We’ll go.”

As they hurried to move Elorie, Valerie glanced down at her, her expression distant, as if calculating their chances. “Whatever’s tied to her is ancient,” she said under her breath, more to herself than to Jenna. “We need to find the source and sever it completely before it consumes her.”

Jenna nodded, gripping Elorie’s hand tightly, praying for strength. “Let’s just get her breathing first,” she murmured. Jenna’s heart pounded as they rushed toward the door, Elorie’s fragile body held carefully in her arms. This wasn’t just a supernatural problem anymore—it was a fight for her niece’s life. And as much as Jenna wanted to protect her from everything, the dangers Elorie faced were beyond her grasp.

Chapter Text

Enzo paced the hotel room, his steps quick and restless. His mind spun with the tangled mess of problems he hadn’t quite managed to fix. Every time he thought he had something under control, another issue reared its ugly head. His fists clenched at his sides as he stole a glance at the door to the next room, where Damon was—a weeping, broken version of the man he’d once been.

He had done what he needed to do. Beaten the humanity back into his friend, and forced him to confront the mountain of guilt he’d been running from. But now Damon was a puddle of regret, his usually cocky bravado replaced with desperate apologies and tears. The switch had been flipped, and Enzo, for all his strength and determination, didn’t know how to handle the aftermath.

Klaus, on the other hand, had found the whole thing insufferably dull. After Damon’s initial breakdown, Klaus had waved it off, telling Enzo to call him when the emotional fallout was over and things got interesting again. He’d slipped out of the room with a bored sigh, leaving Enzo to deal with the emotional wreckage Damon had become.

But now, pacing the hotel room, it wasn’t just Damon weighing on Enzo’s mind. Jenna’s frantic call had hit him harder than he wanted to admit. Elorie was in danger—real danger—and here he was, miles away, stuck with a broken vampire and no clear solution to the mess waiting back in Mystic Falls. His mind kept replaying Jenna’s words, the fear in her voice, the way she’d nearly cracked under the weight of it all.

He couldn’t stay here. Not when Elorie needed him. But leaving now, with Damon in this state, wasn’t an option either. And that left him with one uncomfortable, inevitable thought.

Klaus.

He was going to have to call Klaus—not with a solution to his problem, but to ask for a favor. And that was something he’d promised himself he’d avoid. Klaus wasn’t the kind of man to do favors out of the goodness of his heart. Every favor came with strings, some of which Enzo had yet to untangle from their budding friendship.

Enzo ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He needed to think. Needed to act. But everything felt like it was spinning out of his control.

Bloody hell, he muttered to himself. His hand hovered over his phone before he let out a sharp exhale and picked it up. He hated this. Hated the idea of asking for Klaus’s help in a situation where he was still trying to gain control. But what other choice did he have?

The phone rang twice before Klaus’s voice purred through the line, smooth and low. “Well, well. Have you finally gotten tired of playing therapist, or are you calling to let me know you’ve managed to salvage some dignity?”

Enzo rolled his eyes, but the weight in his chest didn’t lighten. “You always have a way with words, don’t you, mate?” His voice lacked the usual humor, and Klaus seemed to pick up on the shift in tone immediately.

There was a pause, and when Klaus spoke again, his voice was less amused, more curious. “What’s happened?”

Enzo swallowed hard, pacing the room again. “I need your help.”

Another pause, longer this time. Enzo could practically feel Klaus’s interest spike through the line. “Go on.”

“It’s not about Damon,” Enzo said quickly, pacing the length of the room. “He’s... well, he’s a mess, but that’s beside the point. It’s about my family.” He paused, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his next words press down on him. He couldn’t give away too much, not yet. “Look, there’s someone in trouble. Someone I care about. I’m stuck here with Damon, but she’s back in Mystic Falls and I have a problem that needs your help.”

Klaus’s voice softened, though there was still that ever-present edge of amusement. “Ah, so you’ve come to ask for a favor. Tell me more.”

Enzo hesitated for a moment, then decided to focus on the immediate problem. “I’m going to send you a picture. It’s of a stone—a rock with runes carved into it. I need you to look at it, tell me if you’ve seen anything like it before.”

Klaus’s interest seemed to sharpen. “A stone with runes? Alright, I’ll bite. Send it.”

Enzo quickly pulled up the photo on his phone—the image of the stone from the clearing, the one that had haunted Elorie’s dreams and pulled her in with its strange, otherworldly energy. He hit Send, his pulse quickening as the message delivered.

“It’s sent,” Enzo said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

There was a brief pause on the other end as Klaus received the picture. His voice returned

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line as Klaus received the picture, the silence stretching just long enough to make Enzo uneasy. He could feel something shift in the air, an unspoken tension building. When Klaus finally spoke, his voice was different—colder, almost calculating.

"Where exactly did you find this stone?" Klaus asked, the sharp edge of his tone making Enzo's stomach tighten.

Enzo frowned, sensing something more than just curiosity in Klaus’s question. “She found it in a clearing, just outside Mystic Falls," he said carefully. "Why?"

Another pause. Then Klaus let out a low, humorless chuckle, though there was no amusement in it. “Of all the places your witch could find herself.” His voice was calm, but Enzo could hear the simmering anger underneath. “It seems my mother’s influence knows no bounds—not even in death.”

Enzo’s brow furrowed. “Your mother? What are you talking about?”

Klaus let out a slow exhale, his voice turning dark. “This spot—this cursed place—is where I put my mother to rest, so to speak. I should have known that place would draw someone with magic and burned her bones when I had the chance.”

Enzo’s chest tightened. He didn’t know much about Klaus’s mother, but he knew enough to understand that anything connected to her was dangerous. “What does that mean for Elorie?”

“It means,” Klaus said slowly, his voice seething with barely controlled anger, “that your little witch may not be alone in her own body. If my mother’s lingering magic has found a foothold in her, then she’s in far greater danger than you thought. Esther has a way of using people like pawns, and if she’s chosen Elorie... well, let’s just say things could get ugly.”

Enzo’s pulse quickened. “Are you saying Elorie’s possessed? By your mother?”

“Not exactly possession,” Klaus mused, though there was an edge of bitterness in his voice. “But something close enough. My mother had a talent for binding her magic to objects, to people—anything that would give her control. If your little witch was drawn to that stone, it’s possible she’s tapping into whatever remnants of power my mother left behind.”

The implications hit Enzo like a punch to the gut. He had known Elorie was in trouble, but this was far worse than he’d anticipated. “What do we do?”

Klaus was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, there was a dangerous calm in his tone. “There are options. One of which is an exorcism, though not the kind you’re probably thinking of.” There was a faint, mocking smile in his voice. “But before we get that far, we need to figure out how deep her influence runs. If she’s merely using the girl as a conduit, we might be able to sever the connection. If it’s something more... well, we’ll have to take more drastic measures.”

Enzo gritted his teeth, his frustration bubbling up. “Drastic measures like what?”

Klaus let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real warmth. “Drastic measures like ensuring my mother doesn’t get a second chance at life through your witch. And if that means destroying whatever power is left in that stone, so be it.”

Enzo’s jaw clenched. “I’m not letting her get hurt. We need to find another way.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Enzo,” Klaus said smoothly. “I have no interest in harming her. But I have every interest in ensuring that my mother stays dead.”

Enzo ran a hand through his hair, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “So, what do we do next?”

“I’ll need more information,” Klaus replied, his voice measured. “We need to know exactly how your witch came to be bind herself to that stone. It’s possible there’s more to it than just my mother’s lingering magic.”

Enzo exhaled sharply. “That’s not going to be easy. She’s already struggling with controlling her powers.”

“Then it’s a good thing you called me,” Klaus said, his tone almost teasing, though there was a dangerous undercurrent. “We’ll take care of it, but know this, Enzo—this is a delicate situation. If my mother has her claws in Elorie, she’ll fight to keep her grip.”

“I won’t let her,” Enzo said firmly, his chest tightening at the thought of Elorie being used as a pawn in some centuries-old game of power.

“I didn’t think you would,” Klaus replied, his voice softening ever so slightly. “But be prepared. If it comes down to it, my priority will be preventing a return of my mother to the living world”

Enzo’s throat tightened, the weight of those words sinking in. He didn’t want to think about what those hard choices might be. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Klaus’s voice was calm, almost soothing now. “Keep her stable. I’ll send someone to Mystic Falls, to collect the girl. You haven’t met him yet, but Maddox is one of my most trusted people. I’ll then have some people who are proficient in possession magic in New York. We can head there to meet them”

Enzo’s jaw tightened. “I’ll be ready.”

“Good,” Klaus said, his voice low and dangerous. “And get your pet in line if you plan to bring him along.”

The line went dead, leaving Enzo standing in the middle of the room, the weight of Klaus’s words pressing down on him. He pocketed his phone, his mind racing. Elorie’s situation had gone from bad to worse, and now, with the possibility of Klaus’s mother involved, things had taken a much darker turn.

He glanced at the door to the next room, where Damon was still a mess. One problem solved, another waiting to explode. He kicked Damon’s sleeping form, hard enough to jolt his friend awake from his drunken stupor. Damon groaned, blinking blearily at the world as he dragged himself into a sitting position, one arm slung over his eyes to block out the dim light filtering through the curtains. The stale scent of bourbon clung to the air around him, mingling with the scent of regret that seemed to ooze off Damon’s very being.

“Rise and shine,” Enzo said, his voice sharp as he stood over him, arms crossed. “We’ve got work to do.”

Damon grumbled something incoherent, his hand waving dismissively in Enzo’s direction. “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” His voice was hoarse, thick with the remnants of too many drinks and too little sleep.

Enzo raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And you’re a disaster waiting to happen, mate. We don’t have time for your pity party. I need to know if you’re capable of ‘peopling’ right now, or if I should just leave you here to drown in your whiskey.”

Damon sat up slightly, squinting as if the mere act of opening his eyes required Herculean effort. “Peopling?” he echoed, his voice tinged with bitterness. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been good at peopling, but I can certainly fake it.”

Enzo crouched down, eye-level with Damon now, his expression serious. “I’m not asking for much. I just need to know if you can control your hunger. I can’t have you going off and tearing someone’s throat out when we’re this close to figuring things out.”

Damon let out a tired sigh, rubbing his temples as if the weight of the world had settled firmly on his shoulders. “Hunger’s not the problem, Enzo,” he muttered, though his words lacked conviction. “The problem is everything else—the guilt, the anger, the urge to drink the entire hotel minibar until I can’t feel anything. But yeah, I can keep my fangs in check. I’m not a complete liability.”

Enzo’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not exactly reassuring, mate.”

Damon smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey, I’m trying here. Isn’t that enough?”

Enzo stood up, running a hand through his hair as he took a step back. “You’re trying, but we’re in a bit of a situation. I need you to actually show up for this one, Damon. Elorie’s in trouble—real trouble—and I can’t have you falling apart when things get tough.”

Damon’s expression flickered, the haze of drunkenness giving way to a sliver of concern. “Your lil witch sister?” He frowned, pushing himself to his feet with a groan. “What up with her?”

Enzo’s jaw tightened, the urgency of the situation pressing down on him. “She’s in danger, and I'm running out of time. So I need you to get your shit together because I’ve called in some favors, but I need you with me on this.”

Damon scrubbed a hand over his face, the weight of Enzo’s words slowly sinking in. “Shit... I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad.”

“Yeah, well, it’s worse than you think,” Enzo said, his tone sharp. “And I need you sober and focused if we’re going to fix this.”

Damon straightened, shaking off the remnants of his hangover with a sharp breath. “Alright, alright. I’ll sober up. Just—give me a second.”

Enzo eyed him warily but nodded. “Good. Get it together. We’ve got work to do.”

As Damon stumbled toward the bathroom to splash water on his face, Enzo could feel the weight of the situation hanging over them both. There was no time for hesitation. Enzo barely had time to breathe after their conversation before Jenna’s name flashed across his phone again. His heart leapt into his throat, panic already clawing at his chest as he answered.

“Jenna?” His voice was tight, bracing for the worst.

Her words tumbled out in a rush, frantic and barely coherent. “Enzo, we’re—we’re at the hospital. It’s Elorie. Something went wrong. Valerie’s spell—it didn’t work. She’s... she’s in a coma, but not like a normal one.”

His blood ran cold. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Jenna’s voice cracked, her panic seeping through every word. “The spell, the one Valerie used to seal Elorie’s magic—it backfired. Now she’s not waking up, and the doctors don’t know what’s wrong. She’s hooked up to IVs, but... it’s like she’s not even here, Enzo. We don’t know what to tell them.”

Enzo gripped the phone tighter, forcing himself to stay calm even as fear clawed at him. A coma? His mind raced, trying to wrap around the idea of Elorie being trapped in some magical coma with no way out. “Jenna, listen. I know this is terrifying, but I think I have a solution.”

Jenna’s breathing hitched. “What kind of solution? The doctors—”

“Forget the doctors,” Enzo interrupted, his voice firmer than he intended. “There’s someone I trust, someone who knows how to handle things like this. His name is Klaus. He’s... powerful. Dangerous, but on our side. He’s already sent someone to Mystic Falls to get you and Elorie. I need you to trust me on this.”

There was a pause on the other end, filled with Jenna’s shaky breathing. He could practically feel her fear bleeding through the line. “Klaus?” she repeated, her voice laced with confusion. “What kind of person is he?”

“He’s... complicated,” Enzo admitted, running a hand through his hair, “but if anyone can help, it’s him. Right now, we don’t have any other options. The doctors won’t understand what’s happening to Elorie. They can’t fix this. But Klaus might.”

Jenna’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “And what do I tell the hospital? They won’t just let us leave with her like this.”

Enzo took a breath, calming the storm of thoughts in his head. “Tell them you’re transferring her to a specialist. Make up whatever you have to. Just get her out of there, Jenna. We don’t have time.”

Silence hung between them for a moment, the weight of what he was asking settling over them both. Jenna exhaled shakily, her voice soft but filled with resolve. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll get her to New York.”

Enzo closed his eyes, relief flooding through him. “Thank you. I’ll be waiting for you here. We’re going to save her, Jenna.”

When the call ended, Enzo stood there, staring at the phone in his hand, the weight of his promise heavy in the air. Klaus was his only hope, but Enzo knew the price of asking Klaus for help. Nothing came without strings.

His gaze drifted to the door where Damon was, still in a heap of guilt and misery after regaining his humanity. One problem fixed, Enzo thought, and another waiting to explode.

With a heavy sigh, he dialed Klaus. When the familiar voice answered, Enzo didn’t waste any time.

“Klaus, I need you to move faster,” Enzo said, his voice strained with urgency. “The situation’s worse than I thought. Elorie’s in some kind of coma. I don’t know how much time she has.”

Klaus’s voice remained cool, but there was a subtle undercurrent of interest. “A coma? You didn’t mention it had escalated that far.”

“It’s bad, Klaus,” Enzo continued, his grip tightening on the phone. “Jenna’s getting her out of the hospital, but we need something concrete, something that will fix this. I’m out of options.”

There was a pause before Klaus spoke again, his tone sharper, more focused. “We’ll deal with it. I’ve already sent someone to escort them here. Once they arrive, we’ll start working on the solution. But Enzo, remember—this won’t be easy. Whatever’s affecting her, it’s tied to forces older than either of us.”

Enzo let out a breath, feeling the tension in his chest deepen. “I know. Just make sure they’re safe.”

Klaus’s reply was calm, but edged with something darker. “I always do.”

Enzo and Damon arrived at the airport, the steady hum of engines and the swirl of travelers moving in every direction a backdrop to the tension hanging between them. As they stepped into the bustling terminal, they spotted Klaus leaning casually against a pillar, his ever-present air of superiority on full display.

“Ah, there they are,” Klaus greeted them, his voice carrying just enough warmth to acknowledge their presence but edged with the usual bite. “I was starting to think you’d lost your way.”

Enzo didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. “Did you send the flight details to Jenna?”

Klaus reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it over with a smug smile. “Maddox is en route. He’ll be in Mystic Falls soon to retrieve our young witch. Feel free to ask someone you trust to oversee the process.” He looked at Damon amused "If they feel up to it.”

Enzo took the paper ignoring the jab, glancing at the flight information before slipping it into his coat. “I’ll let her know. And then what? We head to New York?”

Klaus’s amused glance lingered on Damon, who stood arms crossed, glaring back without a word. Damon wasn’t in the mood for Klaus’s antics, but the Original thrived on provoking people, and his smirk only deepened when Damon remained silent.

“Yes, New York,” Klaus confirmed, shifting his focus back to Enzo, though his tone carried an edge of impatience. “We’ll make sure everything is ready when she arrives. Maddox is competent, and the hospital staff won’t have the slightest idea what’s really happening. You just need to ensure Jenna is prepared.”

Enzo nodded, slipping the piece of paper into his coat. “Jenna can handle it. She’s tougher than you might think.”

Damon crossed his arms, his expression skeptical as he glanced between Klaus and Enzo. “Alright, fine. But what’s in it for you, Klaus? You don’t just lend a helping hand out of the goodness of your heart.”

Klaus’s lips curled into a sly smile, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Ah, there it is. The ever-predictable distrust of a Salvatore.” He pushed off the pillar, stepping closer to Damon. “You’re right, of course. I’m not doing this out of sheer altruism.”

Damon raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “So what’s the angle? What do you want out of this?”

Klaus’s gaze flickered with something darker, something dangerous. “Apart from the opportunity to kill my dear mother—again—there’s another incentive for me in all of this.” He turned his gaze to Enzo, then back to Damon, his smile widening. “If the little witch is strong enough to fight off whatever hold my mother has on her, she may very well be strong enough to help me track down an item.”

Damon’s frown deepened. “An item?”

Klaus’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Yes, Damon. Something your little girlfriend, Katherine, stole from me years ago. An artifact of... significant value.”

Enzo’s brow furrowed in concern, but Damon’s expression hardened at the mention of Katherine. “Katherine? What does she have to do with this?”

Klaus’s smile didn’t falter. “She has everything to do with it. Katherine Pierce has a knack for getting her hands on things that don’t belong to her. One such item has been missing for quite some time, and I’ve grown... tired of waiting. If Elorie’s power is as promising as it seems, she might just be the key to tracking it down.”

Damon’s jaw clenched. “So that’s it, huh? You’re using Elorie to get what you want.”

Klaus chuckled, his amusement unmistakable. “You make it sound so transactional, but yes. I’ll admit, I have my motives. However, don’t misunderstand me—I’m invested in ensuring Elorie survives. If she can sever the connection to my mother, it benefits us all. After that, well... we’ll see what she’s capable of.”

Enzo, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “You’re not going to push her into anything she’s not ready for, Klaus.”

Klaus met his gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment before he smiled again, this time with a touch more sincerity. “Relax, Enzo. I’m not a monster—at least, not where Elorie’s concerned. But don’t mistake my help for charity. We all have something to gain here.”

Damon shot Enzo a look, his suspicion still simmering beneath the surface. “And what if she’s not strong enough? What if she can’t help you find whatever it is you’re after?”

Klaus’s smile faded slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Then she won’t survive long enough for it to matter.”

The weight of Klaus’s words hung heavily between them, the implication clear. This was a game of survival—one in which Elorie’s fate was teetering on the edge of something far bigger than any of them.

Enzo clenched his fists at his sides, his voice low but steady. “She’ll survive. And when she does, this deal you’re so keen on... it’ll be on her terms. Not yours.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Enzo’s defiance. “We shall see, Enzo. We shall see.”

With that, Klaus motioned toward the exit. “Now, if you’re done with your little moral dilemmas, let’s head to New York. We’ve got preparations to make, and time is not on our side.”

As they headed for the door, Enzo glanced at Damon, who was still clearly on edge. “I don’t like this,” Damon muttered. “Trusting Klaus? It feels like playing with fire.”

Enzo exhaled, his gaze focused ahead. “It is. But sometimes fire’s the only thing that can burn through what’s coming.”

Damon didn’t respond, but the tension between them was palpable as they followed Klaus out of the airport and into the unknown.

Chapter Text

Elorie wandered through the darkness, her footsteps echoing in the void as if the air itself was swallowing the sound. She had no sense of where she was, but the suffocating heaviness of the place weighed on her, as though it wasn’t just the darkness surrounding her but something more. Something ancient, lingering just out of reach, tugging at the edges of her consciousness.

After what felt like hours, she came to a stop. Before her was her childhood home, a place that filled her with deep unease. Entering, she was faced with a series of doors, each marked with a year. The first door, ominously close, was marked with her current birthday. She stared at it for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. The door next to it was marked 1892, an impossible date that sent a shiver down her spine. It remained closed, as did the others, stretching down the hall, each one marked a century apart, all the way into the distant past.

Elorie reached out, hesitating as her fingers hovered over the door marked 1892. The wood felt cold even from a distance, the energy radiating from it heavy and oppressive, almost as though the magic that sealed it carried a warning. It was familiar in a way she couldn’t quite place yet—an echo of something buried deep within her memories, or perhaps within her very bloodline.

She frowned, her hand trembling slightly. The magic surrounding the doors was thick, layered, and potent, more powerful than anything she had felt before. It clung to her skin like an invisible weight, making it hard to breathe, and hard to think. But there was a pull to it, an undeniable connection that she couldn’t ignore.

Her thoughts raced, fragments of dreams and half-forgotten memories surfacing in her mind. These doors—these dates—weren’t random. They were tied to something, something she was connected to. But how? And why?

She stepped back, trying to shake off the feeling of dread crawling up her spine. The further down the hall, she looked, the more oppressive the magic became. The doors seemed to stretch on forever, marking years that made no sense. Each one a century apart, but all carrying the same weight, the same heavy magic that pressed down on her.

“What is this place?” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the suffocating stillness. The darkness didn’t respond, but the doors... they stood silent, as though waiting for her to make a choice.

Her mind swirled with possibilities. Was this a dream? A memory? Or something else entirely? She had been in dark places before, in dreams and in her waking life, but this felt different. It felt real. And whatever these doors represented, they held power—power that both terrified and intrigued her.

Elorie took another step back, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to choose. Something deep within her warned her not to open any of the doors, but the pull—the temptation—was almost too strong to resist. Each door carried a sense of familiarity, as though pieces of her were locked behind them, waiting to be uncovered.

But what would happen if she opened one?

The thought alone made her feel lightheaded. She turned, glancing back at the way she had come, but the darkness stretched endlessly behind her. There was no turning back. Whatever this place was, it was a part of her now—woven into her existence, her history, and perhaps even her future.

She faced the doors again, her eyes settling on the one marked 1892. That year... it felt closer to her than the others, its magic whispering to her in a way that made her pulse quicken. It was waiting for her. Daring her to open it.

But Elorie hesitated, her mind racing. There was something dangerous here—something that felt both inevitable and terrifying.

"Not yet," she muttered to herself, stepping back once more.

She wasn’t ready. Not for this. Not yet. Whatever was behind those doors would have to wait.

For now.

She turned, forcing herself to walk away from the row of doors, even as the pull of the magic behind them tugged at her soul.

Jenna paced the hallway, her hands wringing together in helpless frustration as the paramedics wheeled Elorie away on a stretcher. Her niece’s body looked so small, so fragile, lying there, pale and cold. The steady beep of the heart monitor as they moved her only added to the surreal nightmare. It was all happening too fast. Again.

The nurse’s request to step outside barely registered before Jenna found herself in the hallway, the door closing behind her with a soft click. She was left standing in the sterile hospital corridor, the weight of everything crashing down on her shoulders.

Valerie and Nia stood nearby, offering no words of comfort, only their quiet, unnerving presence. Valerie’s face was stoic, her eyes sharp, as if calculating something Jenna couldn’t grasp, while Nia leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her face set in a hardened expression. They weren’t family. They didn’t know Elorie the way Jenna did. They didn’t know the weight of this, how much Jenna felt like she had failed—again.

“Less than a month,” Jenna muttered to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been less than a month since we were last here. I couldn’t even keep her safe for that long.”

She wanted to scream. She had one job. Protect Elorie, keep her safe, and somehow she had failed miserably at it. Again. Jenna could feel the guilt gnawing at her insides, twisting like a knife.

Valerie, ever the calm and composed witch, stepped forward, her voice cutting through the silence. “You couldn’t have anticipated the spell would fail like this. These forces... they’re beyond any of us right now.”

“That’s not good enough,” Jenna snapped, her voice raw with emotion. “I should’ve seen it coming. I felt something was wrong, but I let you do it anyway.”

“Jenna,” Valerie’s voice remained steady, but there was a hint of something softer in her eyes now. “No one blames you for what happened. This magic, this connection... it’s older and darker than anything we could’ve anticipated. Elorie is strong, but she’s dealing with something that even experienced witches fear.”

Jenna stopped pacing, turning sharply to face Valerie, her anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “I don’t care how old or dark it is! She’s my daughter, Valerie. And she’s lying in there because I couldn’t protect her. Again!”

Nia, still leaning against the wall, finally spoke, her tone flat but direct. “Blaming yourself won’t change anything. If you want to help Elorie, you’ll need to shut up  and focus, this is a waiting game now. There’s no time for self-pity.”

Jenna’s breath hitched, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She knew Nia was right. But the guilt, the crushing guilt, was unbearable. Every instinct screamed at her to do something, anything, to make this right. Her eyes narrowed, hands curling into fists at her sides. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface finally broke free, and she took a step forward, her voice laced with hostility.

“Wait?” Jenna snapped, her tone sharp. “You’re asking me to wait? After everything that’s happened, after you put her through that—that spell—you want me to just stand by and wait while you go back to that clearing?” Her voice rose with every word, her frustration and fear bubbling over. “How do I even know you have her best interests at heart?”

Valerie’s calm demeanor didn’t waver, though her eyes flickered with something Jenna couldn’t place. “Jenna, I understand you’re upset—”

“No,” Jenna cut her off, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger. “You don’t understand. You came into our lives, performed some spell you swore would help, and now Elorie is lying in a hospital bed again, barely breathing. How do I know you’re not just making things worse?”

Nia, crossed her arms and shot a glare at Jenna. “We’re not the enemy here,” she said, her voice cold and blunt. “If it weren’t for us, you wouldn’t even know what was happening to her.”

Jenna’s eyes flashed with fury. “And if it weren’t for you, she might not be in that bed right now!”

Valerie took a slow breath, her tone measured but firm. “We didn’t create this situation, Jenna. The magic tied to Elorie is older than any of us, and it’s been influencing her long before we arrived. We’re trying to help.”

“Help?” Jenna repeated bitterly, her voice cracking. “You don’t even know her. You don’t know what she’s been through. You just show up, and I’m supposed to trust you because you say you know magic? I trusted you once, and look where that got us.”

Valerie’s expression tightened, but she kept her voice steady. “I understand that you’re scared. But Elorie’s condition isn’t because of our spell—it’s because of the magic tied to that grave. If we don’t figure out how to stop it, this won’t end with her in a hospital bed. It will get much worse.”

Jenna crossed her arms, her jaw clenched. “And how do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know this isn’t some twisted game for you witches?”

Nia scoffed, stepping forward with a glare. “We’re witches, not monsters. If we wanted to hurt Elorie, we wouldn’t have to come all the way here to do it.”

Jenna bristled, her voice low and venomous. “I don’t care what you are. You’ve already hurt her enough. And if something happens to her because of you, I swear—”

Just as she was about to finish her sentence, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the screen—Enzo. She picked up, her voice trembling as she spoke.

“Enzo? We’re back at the hospital. It’s bad. She’s barely holding on.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end before Enzo’s voice, usually so smooth, came through tight with concern. “We’ll fix this, Jenna. My friend, Klaus and I... we’ve got a solution. Look out for a man named Maddox. He’s going to help get her out of Mystic Falls and bring her to New York.”

Jenna closed her eyes, relief washing over her at the sound of Enzo’s determination. “Thank you, Enzo. We... I need you. We can’t lose her.”

“We won’t,” Enzo replied, his tone steady but serious.

Jenna had barely slept after their call, tossing and turning in the uncomfortable hospital chair, her mind plagued by every possible worst-case scenario. The hospital lights flickered softly, casting eerie shadows across the sterile floor. The quiet hum of machines from Elorie’s room was the only constant sound, keeping her tethered to reality.

When sleep did finally come, it was restless and fleeting, full of half-formed dreams and an overwhelming sense of dread. The next thing she knew, a soft voice was calling her name.

“Ms. Sommers?”

Jenna jolted awake, blinking rapidly as she tried to orient herself. A nurse stood before her, offering a sympathetic smile. “There’s someone here to see you. A cousin, he said. He’s waiting in the waiting room.”

A cousin? Jenna’s heart skipped a beat as she stood up, her legs shaky from exhaustion. She didn’t have any cousins who would just show up at a hospital unannounced. Her mind raced as she quickly made her way down the hallway, dread coiling in her chest. Could it be someone from Elorie’s father’s side? Or worse, was it someone Valerie had sent?

As she pushed open the door to the waiting room, her breath caught in her throat. Sitting calmly in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs was a man she had never seen before. He was tall, well-dressed in a dark suit, and radiated a quiet authority that immediately set Jenna on edge. His dark eyes lifted to meet hers as she approached, and his smile was polite, but something was unsettling about his calmness.

“You must be Jenna,” the man said, standing and extending a hand. “Maddox.”

Jenna hesitated for a split second before taking his hand. His grip was firm, but his touch was cold, sending a shiver down her spine. “Maddox? You’re the one Enzo sent?”

He nodded, his expression never wavering. “That’s right. I’m here to make sure we get Elorie the help she needs. I’ve already arranged for a private jet to take her to New York. We just need to have the doctor sign a release form, and we’ll be on our way.”

Jenna’s heart pounded in her chest. She had known this was coming, but now that it was real, now that a stranger was standing in front of her, casually talking about moving Elorie out of the hospital, panic seized her.

“A-are you sure this is safe?” Jenna stammered, her voice shaky. “She’s barely stable right now. I don’t even know if they’ll let her go—”

Maddox raised a hand, his expression calm, almost soothing in its detachment. “Ms. Sommers, I understand you’re worried. But the hospital can only do so much for Elorie. The longer she stays here, the more danger she’s in. We have the resources in New York to help her. But time is of the essence.”

Jenna felt her breath hitch in her throat, her mind spinning with possibilities. The doctors had done everything they could, but this wasn’t a typical illness. This was magic—something no hospital, no doctor, could fix. But trusting Maddox, a man she had never met before, felt like stepping off a cliff into the unknown.

“And if something happens during the flight?” Jenna’s voice cracked with emotion.

Maddox’s eyes softened slightly, though his composure remained unshaken. “We have precautions in place. The jet is equipped to handle emergencies, and there will be no delay. The moment we land, we’ll move her straight to the facility. I know this is overwhelming, but I’ve done this before.”

Jenna’s heart pounded in her chest as she weighed her options, feeling the weight of every word that hung in the air between them. Maddox stood there, composed and confident, but something about this entire situation felt like a trap she couldn’t quite escape. And yet, the hospital had no answers—traditional medicine was no match for the dark, twisting magic that had nearly consumed Elorie.

She turned to Valerie, searching the older witch’s face for any indication of what she should do. Valerie’s eyes were narrowed slightly, appraising Maddox as if deciding whether to trust him with something precious.

Then, Valerie gave a small, thoughtful tut, her voice calm but knowing. "You're the one who works with the Old One," she said, her tone carrying both skepticism and understanding.

Maddox’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face before his usual smooth composure returned. "Yes, well,” he replied, his tone sharper now, “sometimes you need to take untraditional approaches to get what you want, don’t you?"

Valerie didn’t miss a beat, her gaze never wavering. "And you've already parlayed with the Empire City Coven," she said, her words more of a statement than a question.

Maddox inclined his head in confirmation. "The institute is in good favor with Kl—the Old One," he corrected himself quickly, visibly uncomfortable with the slip.

Valerie tutted again, this time with a knowing smile. "I see. So that’s how it is."

Jenna’s stomach churned. Klaus. The name had hung in the air like a curse ever since Enzo had warned her about not offending him once she got to New York. She didn’t know much, but what she did know was enough to make her wary. Yet here was Maddox, aligning himself with this so-called “Old One,” and claiming he had the resources to save her niece.

"You can trust him, Jenna," Valerie said softly, though her tone carried a note of caution. “But for your own safety, perhaps you should take Nia with you. The witches he speaks of… they practice a different kind of magic. They blend our world with the science of mortals. It’s a little… gauche, but effective.”

Jenna swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she glanced over at Elorie’s still figure on the hospital bed. She didn’t have much of a choice, did she? If she stayed here, if they kept waiting for traditional medicine to find a solution, Elorie might not make it. But trusting Maddox—trusting Klaus, by extension—felt like a dangerous gamble.

“I’ll go,” Jenna said finally, her voice shaky but determined. “But I’m not leaving Elorie’s side. And Nia comes with us.”

Maddox gave a small, respectful nod, though there was a flicker of relief in his eyes. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Valerie stepped forward, her hand briefly resting on Jenna’s arm. “I’ll stay here and continue working on breaking the connection,” she said, her tone softer now. “But be careful, Jenna. The witches at the institute… they aren’t like us. They follow their own rules.”

Jenna nodded, though her mind still raced with uncertainty. She trusted Valerie, and if she said this was the best course of action, Jenna had no choice but to believe her. Jenna bit her lip, feeling the weight of the decision crushing down on her. This was Elorie’s life. She had to make the right choice.

“How do I know I can trust you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The last week had been a very hard lesson on misplaced trust and she had very little trust left to share.

Maddox’s smile remained, though it was tinged with understanding. “I get that a lot. But you can trust Enzo, can’t you? He wouldn’t have sent me if he didn’t think I could help.”

Jenna closed her eyes for a moment, Enzo’s voice echoing in her mind from their last conversation. We won’t lose her, Jenna. We’ll fix this. I swear it. She knew Enzo would never send someone who wasn’t capable of handling the situation, but the fear was still gnawing at her.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and nodded. “Alright. I’ll find the doctor. But if anything happens to her...”

“Nothing will happen to her,” Maddox said smoothly, cutting her off. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Without another word, Jenna turned and hurried down the hall toward the nurse’s station. Every step felt like a weight pulling her down, the enormity of the situation pressing down on her chest. She had to trust that this was the right thing, that this stranger could truly help Elorie in ways no one else could.

As she reached the nurse’s station, she caught sight of Elorie’s attending physician and approached him with shaky resolve. “Doctor, I need to speak with you about transferring Elorie. We’ve made arrangements for her to be taken to a specialized facility.”

The doctor’s brow furrowed in concern. “Ms. Sommers, are you sure that’s wise? She’s still in a fragile condition. Moving her—”

“I don’t have a choice,” Jenna interrupted, her voice filled with desperation. “There’s nothing more the hospital can do for her. We’ve... we’ve found a place that specializes in her condition.”

The doctor hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. “I’ll need to see the paperwork for the transfer, but... if that’s your decision, we’ll make sure she’s stable enough for transport.”

While Jenna went over the material with Elorie’s main doctor, Grayson came over to interrupt. He stood in front of Jenna with his arms crossed, his expression a mask of calm professionalism, but there was something in his eyes—something Jenna didn’t like. She could feel the tension radiating off him as he prepared to deliver his argument. It had been difficult enough to get him to agree to the transfer, but now it seemed he was ready to throw a wrench into her plans.

“Jenna,” he began, his voice low and measured, “I understand you’re scared, and I understand you feel like this transfer is your only option. But as one of Elorie’s doctor, I can’t, in good conscience, recommend moving her to New York.”

Jenna clenched her fists, her eyes narrowing. “And why not, Grayson? What more can you do for her here that isn’t being done already?”

Grayson hesitated for just a moment, the briefest flicker of something passing over his face. “Look, we’ve reached the limits of what we can do here at Mystic Falls Hospital, but there’s another option—one that could provide better, more advanced care. Duke University has a specialized study happening right now that focuses on... unusual conditions. The Augustine group is leading it. They’ve had some success with cases like Elorie’s.”

The mention of Augustine sent a cold wave of dread through Jenna’s body. She didn’t know the full extent of what the Augustine group had done, but she knew enough to be wary. Enzo had mentioned them once—just once—and that had been enough to tell her all she needed to know. They weren’t to be trusted. The fact that Grayson was even suggesting it made her stomach churn.

Jenna took a step back, her voice tight with disgust. “Augustine? You want to send my daughter to be used as a lab rat?”

Grayson’s brow furrowed, but he kept his tone even. “You don’t understand, Jenna. The Augustine group has made significant strides in medical research—”

“I don’t care what strides they’ve made!” Jenna snapped, cutting him off, her voice shaking with anger. “You think I’d listen to a single suggestion you made again? Lucianna Maxfeild left her head in such a state-” Jenna’s voice cracked. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what they’re about, Grayson.”

Grayson’s expression hardened, but he kept his calm demeanor. “I’m not suggesting anything unethical, Jenna. I’m only suggesting that they may have resources that we don’t. Resources that could save Elorie.”

Jenna’s breath came out in short, sharp bursts, her heart pounding in her chest. “Save her? Or use her? You’re talking about handing her over to a group that treats people like lab rats. You want me to just trust them? After everything you’ve done to help?”

Grayson pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I know you have your reservations, but this study could provide answers—answers we don’t have here. They’ve been working on... unconventional methods that might be exactly what Elorie needs.”

Jenna shook her head, disgusted by the suggestion. “Unconventional methods? You mean experiments.”

Grayson sighed, clearly frustrated. “I know what you’re thinking, Jenna. But this isn’t about that. This is about giving Elorie the best possible chance. If you let her leave now, take her to some... unknown facility in New York, we may lose any hope of stabilizing her condition.”

Jenna stared at him, her hands shaking with anger and fear. How could he even suggest something like that? How could he think she’d be okay with handing Elorie over to Augustine of all people? She felt sick to her stomach.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let these Augustine people anywhere near her,” Jenna said, her voice barely holding back the emotion threatening to spill over.

Grayson’s face tightened, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Jenna, be reasonable—”

“No, you be reasonable,” Jenna shot back, her voice rising. “We’re not going to Duke, and we’re not going anywhere near Augustine. I don’t trust them, and I don’t trust you if you think that’s even an option.”

Grayson took a step back, his eyes narrowing with frustration, but he didn’t argue further. He could see the battle was lost. “Fine,” he said, his voice clipped. “But I hope, for Elorie’s sake, you know what you’re doing.”

Jenna didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. Her mind was made up, and no amount of slick words from Grayson would change that. She turned her back on him, walking toward the hallway, her heart still racing, her thoughts spinning.

As she stepped into the waiting room again, she saw Maddox standing there, his calm presence a stark contrast to the storm raging inside her.

“Everything alright?” Maddox asked, his voice cool but polite.

Jenna shook her head, still fuming. “Grayson tried to suggest sending Elorie to the Augustine group at Duke. As if I’d ever trust them.”

Maddox’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he nodded. “You made the right choice. Augustine is... not the answer you’re looking for.”

Jenna sighed, exhaustion creeping into her bones. “I just want to get her to New York. Somewhere safe.”

“We’ll get her there,” Maddox assured her. “Everything is set. Just give the word when the paperwork is ready.”

Jenna nodded, feeling a small flicker of relief. For now, she had to trust that they were doing the right thing. The road ahead was uncertain, but she knew one thing for sure—she would never let anyone, especially Augustine, take Elorie away from her. The flight to New York was quiet, though the turbulence of Jenna’s thoughts raged on. She couldn’t sit still, fidgeting, wringing her hands, staring out the window with blank eyes as the world below blurred into nothing. Every worst-case scenario ran through her mind, from Elorie not waking up to her condition worsening beyond repair. Anxiety coiled tight in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She had never felt more helpless in her life.

Maddox sat across from her, calm as ever, his eyes occasionally flicking toward Jenna but offering no words. His presence was unnerving, his coolness only amplifying her nerves. But she held on, knowing that this was for Elorie. They were heading toward something—anything—that might help. When they finally touched down, Jenna felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, though it did nothing to dull her anxiety. The car ride to the hospital was equally silent, the tension between them heavy as they neared the facility.

Once they arrived, Jenna blinked in surprise. The hospital was a state-of-the-art building, sleek and modern, its sterile white walls gleaming in the early morning light. But the atmosphere inside was different. As they passed through the entrance, Maddox quietly explained, “The entire wing has been convinced to look the other way. The floor Elorie will be on has been cleared. Only her doctors and nurses will be allowed access. Every entrance is guarded by vampires—there will be no interruptions.”

Jenna nodded numbly, trying to take it all in. It was surreal—this world, this place, the weight of what was happening. It felt more like stepping into a strange alternate reality, far removed from the hospital in Mystic Falls.

As they wheeled Elorie inside, her unconscious form lying so still on the gurney, Jenna’s heart clenched painfully. She couldn’t go with her. Not yet. Maddox, with his ever-present calm, turned to her.

“They’ll settle her in,” he said softly, his voice steady but firm. “For now, you should take a moment to breathe.”

Jenna wanted to argue, to say she needed to be with her daughter, but the exhaustion finally won out. She allowed herself to be led down the hallway and into a family room nearby. Her heart pounded as Maddox pushed open the door, revealing Enzo and Damon waiting inside.

The moment she saw Enzo, something inside her cracked. She barely had a second to process it before Enzo was up on his feet, wrapping her in a tight embrace, his arms pulling her close.

“Jenna,” Enzo murmured, his voice a soothing balm against her frayed nerves. “It’s alright. I’m here.”

She clung to him, the dam breaking as she let the tears fall. All the anxiety, the fear, the helplessness—it all came pouring out as Enzo held her. He murmured soft reassurances, his hand stroking her back in comforting circles as she buried her face in his chest. She couldn’t even form words, only gasping breaths between sobs.

“I’m so scared,” she finally whispered, her voice cracking. “I can’t lose her, Enzo. I just can’t.”

“You won’t,” Enzo promised, his voice resolute. “We’re going to save her, Jenna. You’re not alone in this.”

Jenna nodded weakly, still holding onto him as though letting go would cause her to fall apart all over again. After what felt like an eternity, she finally pulled back, wiping at her tear-streaked face. The weight on her chest eased slightly, though it hadn’t fully lifted. She offered Enzo a shaky smile, grateful for his presence.

And then, awkwardly clearing his throat, Damon stepped forward, hands shoved into his pockets. “Uh, hi. So, uh... I’m new. Damon, the newest member of your weird little family.” he said, his tone somewhere between sarcastic and sincere, clearly unsure of how to insert himself into the moment.

Jenna blinked at him, her emotions still raw, but a small laugh escaped her despite everything. “Weird little family, huh? I suppose so…”

Damon shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “Well, you’ve got Enzo here, and then you’ve got me—someone had to balance out the charm, right?”

Enzo chuckled, though his arm stayed around Jenna’s shoulders, keeping her grounded. “Ignore him,” he said lightly. “He’s still recovering from too much brooding.”

Damon shot Enzo a mock glare before turning his attention back to Jenna. “But seriously... I’m here, too. We’ll figure this out. We won’t let anything happen to Elorie.”

Jenna glanced between the two men, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and disbelief. Just a few months ago, she could never have imagined this—relying on two vampires to help her save her baby. But right now, she couldn’t imagine doing it without them.

“I appreciate it,” she said softly, her voice still shaky but sincere. “Both of you.”

Damon gave her a half-smile, something softer than she’d seen from him before. “No problem. Besides, Enzo here would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t help.”

Jenna took a shaky breath and nodded, the weight on her chest slightly lighter now, even though the tension still lingered in the back of her mind. Though the road ahead was daunting, she had to trust that with Enzo and Damon’s help, they could figure this out.

Maddox appeared quietly in the doorway, his presence like a shadow that seemed to slip in unnoticed. His calm, detached demeanor didn’t waver as he addressed the room.

“Elorie is settled in her room. The doctors will monitor her closely, but for now, you all should rest. The next steps will require your full focus,” Maddox said, his tone as clinical as ever.

Jenna rubbed her eyes, exhaustion pulling at her every limb. “What do you mean, the next steps?”

Maddox’s eyes flicked to Enzo, then to Damon before settling on Jenna. “Elorie’s condition is stable for the moment, but whatever’s happening with her—this tether to that grave—it’s not something that will fade on its own. We need to sever the connection, break the hold it has on her, or she’ll continue to decline.”

“And how exactly do we do that?” Jenna asked, her voice tight with fear and frustration.

Maddox folded his hands behind his back, his expression unreadable. “We’re speaking with someone with experience in dealing with possessions of this nature. While we have the best doctors working on her physical body we have some of the best witch minds working on detangling whatever sort of binding spell has your girl locked up.”

“Possessions?” Jenna’s voice cracked at the word.

Maddox’s expression remained neutral. “Yes, well from my observations of the spell her magic is tangled with something far older than anything I’ve seen. It’s feeding off her, drawing on her power.”

Enzo stepped forward, his hand still resting gently on Jenna’s shoulder. “Maddox, if there’s something we need to know, now’s the time to tell us. What are we dealing with?”

Maddox’s gaze flicked to Enzo, and for the first time, there was a flicker of hesitation in his usually cool demeanor. “Klaus and I have our suspicions,” he said carefully. “We’re working on a few solutions.”

Damon, who had been leaning against the wall with his usual air of nonchalance, straightened up at that. “So, what? That's all we get? A few solutions.”

Maddox nodded. “Yes. We’ll that's all I can really say. I don’t answer to you, Damon. The magic there has been dormant for centuries, but it needed a conduit. Elorie, whether she knew it or not, became that conduit the moment she made contact.”

Jenna felt a cold wave of dread settle in her stomach. “So, what do we do? How do we stop this?”

Maddox’s voice remained measured. “You need someone who knows how to sever these kinds of ties. We're searching for a spell to sever the connection Fortunately, Klaus has already reached out to his contacts in New York.”

Enzo’s jaw tightened, a flicker of worry crossing his face. “And how long do we have?”

Maddox glanced at him, then back at Jenna. “Not long. The longer the connection remains, the deeper it buries itself into her magic. But we have time to act—if we move quickly.”

Jenna felt the ground shifting beneath her feet again. Every word Maddox spoke seemed to add another layer of complexity, another impossible hurdle to overcome. But she didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. Not now. Elorie needed her to be strong.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Jenna said, her voice steely with resolve. “Just tell me what to do.”

Maddox nodded once. “You’ll need to rest for now. The witches will arrive in the morning, and they’ll need to work closely with Elorie’s magic. It will be a delicate process, but if it goes as planned, we should be able to sever the bond.”

Jenna wanted to push back, to say she didn’t have time to rest, but her body betrayed her, the exhaustion too much to ignore. She glanced at Enzo, who gave her a small nod of reassurance.

“We’ll be ready,” Enzo said, his voice low but steady. “Just get her what she needs.”

Damon, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. “And what if it doesn’t go as planned? What if this... thing doesn’t want to let her go?”

Maddox’s expression hardened his voice firm. “Then we’ll have to fight it. And we’ll need all the help we can get.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on them all. Jenna closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm the storm inside her. This was it. The fight to save Elorie was about to begin.

Chapter Text

Elorie blinked, her eyes fluttering open as she found herself standing in an eerie stillness. The weight that had been suffocating her chest for weeks was suddenly gone, replaced by a chilling emptiness. But something was wrong—she could feel the darkness still, lurking, feeding on the edges of her mind like a parasite. It gnawed at her thoughts, twisting and distorting, but she was free of its grip on her heart. For now.

Her pulse quickened as she glanced around, disoriented. She was no longer in the present. The landscape around her was both hauntingly familiar and impossibly distant. The compound in France. The place where she grew up.

The air was thick with a heavy silence. There were no voices, no footsteps. No one. She stood alone, and yet, every corner of this place felt like it was watching her, breathing with her.

To her left, the chapel loomed like a shadow from a nightmare. Elorie’s stomach twisted instinctively at the sight of it. The memories of forced prayers, whispered punishments, and the stench of incense made her skin crawl. She hated that place, always had. The cold stone walls had never offered her comfort—only the suffocating sense of judgment.

Beside the chapel, however, was the large willow tree. Its drooping branches swayed gently despite the stillness in the air, the leaves barely rustling. Beneath it, the old seating area remained untouched, the same place where she had once stolen moments of peace, far from the reach of the cruel voices inside the manor.

She tore her gaze away and looked forward. The manor itself towered above her, just as imposing and oppressive as she remembered. The weight of its presence was suffocating, a reminder of the power it had once held over her. Even now, it loomed with a foreboding aura, as though it still held secrets she’d rather never unearth.

On her right, the gazebo gardens stretched out before her, a faint sense of warmth breaking through the cold. That had always been her sanctuary—the place where she could escape the twisted reality inside the manor’s walls. She had spent hours there, playing, dreaming, trying to carve out a small piece of joy amid the chaos.

But now, even that sanctuary seemed distant, like it was part of someone else’s life.

Elorie took a hesitant step forward, her heart racing. “Why am I here?” she whispered, the sound barely leaving her lips, her voice echoing through the empty compound.

A low, gnawing hum of the darkness answered her, slithering closer to the center of her mind. She wasn’t alone here. It was still with her, hiding in the shadows of her thoughts. Each step toward the manor felt like she was dragging her feet through quicksand. The closer Elorie got, the heavier the air became, pressing down on her like a vice. Her head started to throb, a dull ache that built with every step, like something inside her was pushing back against her approach.

When she finally reached the door, her fingers trembled as she grasped the cold handle. The door creaked open, but instead of the familiar entrance she’d expected, Elorie found herself standing in a rounded room. She blinked, her vision hazy as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

The room was surrounded by doors—each one weathered, some ancient, others newer—but they all seemed to stretch back through time, as though they represented eras long past. Each door had a plaque above it, marking a year, roughly a century apart, leading back what appeared to be a thousand years. But it wasn’t just the doors that unsettled her—it was what covered them. A grotesque, pulsating layer of what could only be described as some sort of fungus or rot. It seemed to be growing, almost alive, its source stemming from a door at the center of the room’s back wall, the rot seeping and spreading from there like a disease infecting everything it touched.

Her headache was intensifying, each pulse of pain synced with the sickening throb of the rot. She could barely think through the pounding in her skull. Desperate to ground herself, Elorie looked to her left, hoping to find something that made sense in this nightmare.

Then her breath caught in her throat.

The door closest to her, relatively free of the rot, bore a date that sent a shock through her entire body. Her birthday.

Elorie stumbled back, the air rushing out of her lungs. “What the hell…” she muttered under her breath, her chest tightening with panic. Her breathing quickened, eyes wide in disbelief. Why does that door have my birthday?

The room felt like it was closing in on her, the pressure building, her headache now a full-blown migraine. She took an unsteady step toward the door, her mind racing. The handle was cold beneath her hand, and as she gripped it, a wave of pain shot through her skull. The door didn’t budge.

No, she thought, fighting through the agony. Elorie grabbed the seashell necklace around her neck, the one she’d been siphoning magic from for what felt like a lifetime. She could feel the last remnants of magic stored within it, and with a final pull, she drained the shell’s magic, sending a wave of heat through her veins. She felt the burn sear through her hand, and the rot on the door sizzled, disintegrating under the force of her magic.

Spent and dizzy, Elorie wavered, her body screaming for rest. But she couldn’t stop now. She had to see what was inside. She gripped the handle again, this time yanking the door open with a force she didn’t know she had left.

What she saw inside made her heart stop.

Standing before her, in the middle of the room, was a child.

Bright hazel eyes stared up at her, wide and full of wonder. Dark curls framed the child’s face, spilling down their back in loose waves. The child’s smile was warm, innocent, completely unaware of the storm that raged within Elorie.

"Hi!" the child chirped, holding out a small hand. "I'm Ellolee."

Elorie’s entire body went cold, her breath catching in her throat. No… it couldn’t be.

This child—this—was her. A younger version of herself, before the pain, before the darkness, before all the choices that had led her to this moment.

A manifestation of her younger self.

Her hand trembled as she reached out, eyes locked on the child. “This isn’t possible,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her heart racing as a flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

The child just grinned, her hazel eyes—their hazel eyes—sparkling with a purity that Elorie hadn’t felt in what seemed like centuries.

She could barely speak, her voice shaking. “How…?”

"You can call me Ellie!" The child giggled, her voice high and sweet, as she skipped out of the dark expanse of the door and into the eerie room. She twirled around, looking up at the other doors with wide-eyed curiosity. Her small nose wrinkled as she took in the sight of the decay and rot crawling up their surfaces.

“Ew, this is gross!” Ellie declared, pointing at the fungus. “It looks like something dark and icky crawled in and made everything yucky.” She turned to Elorie, her innocent face scrunched up in confusion. “How did you let the covenstead get like this?”

Elorie blinked, still reeling from the fact that she was speaking to a younger version of herself. Words seemed to escape her as she tried to make sense of what was happening. The covenstead? She hadn’t thought of this place like that in years. Not since…

“I—I didn’t…” Elorie stammered, but Ellie was already skipping away, her attention now fully on the other doors.

Ellie approached the nearest door, the one marked with a date centuries before her time. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she twisted the handle, her voice calling out playfully, “Hello? Anybody there?”

Nothing happened. The door didn’t move. Ellie pouted and moved on to the next one, repeating the motion, her tiny hands gripping each handle with enthusiasm. Elorie watched in a daze, still too stunned to react, her headache throbbing in time with the child’s carefree movements.

Ellie reached another door, this one older still, and with a confident twist of the handle, she called out, “Emme?”

Suddenly, the same searing sensation Elorie had felt earlier when she burned away the rot with her magic coursed through the air. The dark fungus covering the door disintegrated in an instant, as if scorched by an unseen flame. Elorie’s breath hitched, watching in disbelief as the decay peeled away, revealing a smooth, untouched surface beneath.

Then the door creaked open.

Stepping out from the shadows was a woman, no older than twenty-four, her striking figure draped in a sparkling flapper dress, the kind from the roaring twenties. Her lips were painted a bold red, and a string of pearls shimmered against her neck as she stepped into the room, her eyes lighting up the moment they landed on the child.

“Oh, my days, Ellie!” The woman’s face broke into a radiant smile, and before Elorie could react, she scooped the child up into her arms and swung her around in a playful circle. Ellie’s delighted laughter echoed through the room, filling the dark space with an unfamiliar warmth.

Elorie stood frozen, her heart racing. The room seemed to spin around her. Who was this woman? And why did she seem so familiar, so comfortable with this version of herself?

As Emmeline set Ellie down, her gaze flickered briefly to the rot spreading across the doors. Her smile remained, but a shadow crossed her features—quickly masked, but unmistakable. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” she murmured, though it was unclear if she was speaking to Ellie, the rot, or herself.

The woman knelt to meeting her at eye level. “You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you,” she said, brushing a curl from the child’s face, her voice full of affection. “What in the world have you been up to?”

Ellie giggled again, her eyes shining. “Just exploring! But this place is all icky now. Look!” She pointed to the other doors. “Everything’s covered in that gross stuff!”

The woman’s expression darkened for a brief second as her gaze swept over the decayed doors. She stood, her eyes meeting Elorie’s for the first time. There was something in her gaze—a flicker of recognition, of knowing, that sent a chill down Elorie’s spine.

“Ellie,” the woman said softly, turning her attention back to the child, “why don’t you keep exploring? I need to have a little chat with our friend here.”

Ellie nodded, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air, and skipped off, humming to herself as she moved to the next door.

The woman turned back to Elorie, her gaze sharp, yet filled with an almost maternal concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

Elorie swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. “Who… are you?”

The woman raised a brow, her red lips curving into a knowing smile. “You don’t recognize me, do you?” She gestured to her dress, her pearls catching the dim light. “It’s been a long time, but I’m Emmeline. People used to call me Emme when I performed. We used to know each other quite well. I mean even taught you that little fire spell you’re so fond off.” She gestured to the little Elorie who was happily blasting off fire spells at door despite it having no effect on them.

Elorie’s mind raced, fragments of memories bubbling to the surface, but they were foggy, elusive. “But how… why are you here?”

Her tone was casual, almost too casual, but there was a hard edge beneath it. “Until someone locked me away,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing briefly as though recalling the moment. Then she looked directly at Elorie, her smile returning but not reaching her eyes. “People do love their chains, don’t they?”

She wiped her finger on the door next to the one she came out, “ My dear, the covenstead—it’s falling apart.” She glanced toward the center door, the one still covered in the thickest rot. She paused, the faintest trace of a smirk curling her lips. “How did you ever manage to let it get like this?”

“Me?” Elorie looked around and clenched her fists, “What the hell do you expect me to do about it.”

“Have you tried burning it away with… a fire spell?” Emmeline rolled her eyes.

She narrowed her eyes, “Fresh out of magic I’m afraid. Care to share how she’s blasting away without siphoning magic?”

“Our secret” Emmeline grinned. “ I’m a little sad this is really what what my cute little Ellie grows into.”

“Yeah, well, things get pretty grim,” Elorie shot back, stepping closer, her eyes narrowing into slits. “You said someone sealed you away. I don’t remember that. When did it happen?”

A slow smile crept across Emmeline’s face, her eyes glinting with something darker as she gestured toward the younger version of Elorie, who happily ran into her arms without a care in the world.

“You must’ve been around five or six when the connection was first severed,” Emmeline replied casually, stroking the child’s dark curls. “This rot didn’t just appear, darling. Someone had to make the place nice and homey for it. And it’s been festering. Feeding on your doubts, your fears, everything you’ve buried and refused to face.” She paused, her eyes locking with Elorie’s. “Layer upon layer of spells—memory spells, energy siphons, protective spells—each one meticulously placed, reinforced every year. Right on your birthday.”

Elorie’s heart sank, her chest tightening as the truth crept in like a poison. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Her hand instinctively lifted to her wrist, where her most recent birthday present—a sapphire bracelet she’d thought was a simple protection charm from her mother—glimmered innocently. “No… she wouldn’t.”

Emmeline’s smile widened, but her eyes softened slightly as she took a step closer. “Oh, but she did,” she murmured, her voice almost pitying. “Those little baubles, each one given with care, have been keeping you in check for the better part of a decade. Haven’t they?”

Elorie’s breath hitched, her thoughts spiraling as the weight of betrayal settled like a stone in her stomach. The bracelet she wore—every one before it—hadn’t been protecting her. They had been caging her, controlling her, ensuring she would never unlock the full extent of her power.

She stumbled back, her gaze darting between Emmeline and the bracelet. Her mother, her own mother, had done this. How much of her life had been a lie?

Her fingers dug into her palms as she clenched her fists, rage surging through her veins. “Why? Why would she do this to me?”

Emmeline tilted her head, her expression a mix of amusement and sympathy. “Ah, the question of the day, isn’t it? Why? Maybe she thought she was protecting you. Or maybe,” she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “she was protecting herself. People like you do have a habit of breaking the mold, darling. Perhaps she feared what you’d become if left unchecked.”

Elorie’s jaw tightened, her mind reeling. She wanted to argue, to deny it, but deep down, a part of her couldn’t ignore the truth taking shape. The rot, the spells, the birthday gifts—it all connected like threads in a tangled web. Her mother had always been cautious, always trying to keep her grounded, always warning her her off from using her magic. But this? This was control, pure and deliberate.

“How do I remove these…spells?”

Emmeline shrugged and said lithely “You could try siphoning them off, but I’m almost sure that would kill you.”

She gazed at the other witch incredecliously. “Not a option.”

“Well, plenty of time to figure it out. No rush really, you’re only slowly dying while…something takes over your body.”

Ellie hummed softly to herself as she skipped through the room, her movements carefree despite the oppressive atmosphere. Her small hands brushed against the decaying doors, the rot crackling faintly at her touch.

Then she paused.

Her head tilted slightly, her curls bouncing, as though she’d heard something faint, something no one else could. Her bright hazel eyes narrowed in curiosity, and she stepped closer to one of the less-corroded doors. The plaque above it gleamed faintly, the date barely legible through the grime.

“Elorie…” she murmured, her voice softer now, distant. “This one feels… different.”

Ellie reached out, her small fingers grazing the door’s edge, and then she froze. A faint glow began to emanate from the base of the door, pulsing gently, as though responding to her touch. Her lips parted in wonder. Slowly, she crouched, her fingers tracing the faint outline of something lodged in the corner of the frame.

“Hey…” she whispered, her voice tinged with awe. Her hand darted forward, grasping the object and pulling it free. She stood up, turning to face the others, her grin wide as she held it out triumphantly.

“Look what I found!” Ellie chirped, her innocent excitement cutting through the tension in the room. In her palm rested a delicate silver key, no larger than a coin, its surface etched with intricate carvings that shimmered faintly in the dim light. It pulsed faintly in her hand, almost like a heartbeat.

Elorie blinked, her attention snapping to the key. Her chest tightened, an inexplicable sense of unease washing over her. The key felt significant—wrong and right all at once, like a puzzle piece she’d long forgotten was missing.

Emmeline’s sharp gaze locked onto the charm immediately. Her expression darkened, a flicker of something almost hungry flashing in her eyes. “Well, well,” she said softly, then she straightened, her tone light again. “You’ve found something very interesting.”

Ellie clutched the key closer to her chest, her face scrunching in mock defiance. “Nope! This one’s mine!” she declared, sticking her tongue out playfully before slipping it into the pocket of her dress.

Elorie blinked, shaking off her spiraling thoughts as she focused on the child. “Ellie,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Where did you find that?”

Ellie tilted her head, her curls bouncing. “In one of the gross doors,” she said matter-of-factly, pointing to a door that now stood slightly ajar, its plaque marked with a date from the 1800s. “It was just sitting there, all shiny and lonely.”

Emmeline chuckled, crossing her arms. “Oh, the things children find when they aren’t supposed to be looking.”

Elorie stepped closer to the child, her heart pounding. “Ellie,” she said carefully, “that key… I think it’s important. Can you show me it? I think I know what it opens.”

Ellie hesitated, her young face twisting in thought. “Mmm, but I know what it opens…I’ll show you,” she said, drawing out the word teasingly. “But only if you promise to stop being all grumpy and boring.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at Elorie’s lips despite the chaos inside her. “Okay,” she said softly. “I promise.”

Ellie grinned, her hazel eyes lighting up. “Yay! Follow me!” She grabbed Elorie’s hand and tugged her toward the door leading back outside, her small fingers warm and steady.

As they stepped outside, the air grew heavier, each breath laced with an oppressive weight. The building loomed ahead, its shadow stretching across the barren grounds like an ominous warning. Emmeline followed a few paces behind, her expression unreadable, but her silence spoke volumes.

Emmeline’s voice was light, but there was an unmistakable weight to her words. “We don’t have to go there. Not right now.” Her gaze lingered on the chapel, her expression tightening for the briefest of moments. “But it’s calling you, isn’t it? Like a song you’ve forgotten the words to.”

Elorie’s steps faltered, her fists clenching at her sides. She wiped her damp palms on her thighs, her gaze fixed on the imposing structure ahead. “The chapel,” she whispered, the word feeling sharp and jagged in her throat. The name alone carried the weight of memories she’d buried deep, memories that now clawed their way to the surface.

She swallowed hard, dread coiling in her stomach like a living thing. The cold, judgmental air of that place felt as tangible now as it had in her childhood.

Emmeline took a deliberate step back, her gaze steady as she let Elorie process the weight of the chapel’s looming presence. “You didn’t always hate it there. What changed for you?” she said softly, her tone threading between understanding and insistence.

“You’re in my head aren’t you? You can see my memories. You know what happened there.” Elorie shot the witch a glare, her thoughts racing as memories clawed their way to the surface. The suffocating chill of the stone walls, the echoing silence that swallowed every sound, the way the prayers and rituals pressed against her like invisible chains. Her mother’s hand, unyielding on her shoulder, guiding her to kneel, to bow, to submit.

“Yes,” Emmeline said softly. “I do…this place was supposed to be sanctuary for witches”

“That place…” Elorie’s voice cracked, trembling as she forced the words out. “It wasn’t a sanctuary. It was a cage. A prison.” Her chest tightened, her breathing shallow. “I was relieved when we left. I thought I’d never have to go back.”

Emmeline’s gaze didn’t waver. “Well you never did. Did you? You fled home after locking us all up here,” she said, her voice a quiet blade cutting through the tension. “It’s where the first bindings were placed on you. Where your mother began sealing away your power. It’s why you’re trapped—here, in this version of yourself. And that’s why, eventually, you’ll have to go back.” She gestured toward the building, her tone sharpening. “But not now. Not until you’ve untangled the spells that hold you down.”

The air around Elorie felt heavier with every word, pressing into her chest, threatening to crush her. The thought of stepping foot inside that chapel again made her stomach churn violently. The oppressive weight of memories and fears she had spent years avoiding closed in on her, tighter and tighter.

“I can’t,” she muttered, her voice trembling. “I—I don’t know if I can.” Her hands trembled at her sides, a cold sweat breaking across her skin. The urge to run was nearly overwhelming, her body screaming to flee, to avoid confronting the suffocating terror that place held for her.

Emmeline’s expression softened, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. “You’ve already come this far,” she said, her voice gentler now. “You’ve seen the rot, faced yourself. That’s more than most would have the courage to do.”

Elorie’s throat tightened as her breath came in short, uneven gasps. The chapel seemed to grow larger, more menacing, with every passing second. Its jagged shadow stretched toward her like clawed hands, pulling her back to the helpless girl she once was.

But she wasn’t that girl anymore.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, trembling still, but stronger than they had ever been. These hands had created fire, had scorched away the rot. Inside her, she could feel the faint remnants of her magic stirring, like a flame trying to catch on a wick. She wasn’t helpless. Not entirely.

“Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “Let’s go.”

But Emmeline’s sigh stopped her in her tracks. “Elorie,” she said with a knowing look, “you’ve already burned through the last of your magic. What exactly do you think you’re going to do when you can’t even untangle the spells holding you down?”

The resolve in Elorie’s chest faltered, her breath catching as reality hit her like a frigid wave. She had used everything she had left—drained herself completely—to reach this point. Now, standing on the edge of the chapel’s shadow, she felt stripped bare, exposed, powerless.

Her trembling hands fell limp at her sides, and the weight of Emmeline’s words pressed down hard. “I…” Her voice wavered, thin and uncertain. “Maybe I can siphon the magic… from the door? Or something…”

Emmeline stepped closer, her eyes sharp and unyielding. “Siphoning magic won’t save you. That thing feeds on chaos. If you go in now, it will consume you.” She gestured to the building, her voice laced with a warning.

Elorie swallowed hard, her body trembling with the enormity of what lay ahead. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to breathe, to think past the suffocating fear clawing at her. She had come too far to be undone now, but the truth in Emmeline’s words chilled her to the core. If she didn’t face the chapel, she would never be free. But if she went in unprepared, she might not make it out at all.

The air around the chapel grew heavier, pressing down on Elorie like a vice. She tried to steady her breath, but it came in shallow gasps. The edges of her vision blurred as the oppressive aura seeped into her, wrapping around her chest and squeezing until it felt like she might break.

“Elorie.” Emmeline’s voice was distant, muffled, as though coming from underwater. “Focus.”

But she couldn’t. The chapel loomed, its dark silhouette like a yawning maw, ready to devour her whole. The ground beneath her feet seemed to pulse, alive with the chapel’s ancient magic, and from the cracked walls, shadows began to stretch outward, curling like smoke.

Whispers came first—soft, unintelligible at first, like the rustling of dry leaves. Then they grew louder, sharper, the words slashing at her like tiny blades.

“Kneel.”
“Bow your head child.”
“You must be cleansed.”

Elorie staggered back, her pulse racing as her mother’s voice rose above the others. Cold, measured, always tinged with an edge of desperation.

“Don’t fight this, Elorie. It’s for your own good.”

The shadows thickened, swirling like a storm. Images flickered in the air—half-formed at first, then vivid, tangible. Elorie was no longer standing outside the chapel. She was inside.

The cold stone floor bit into her knees as she was dragged forward by a man whose face she couldn’t quite see. Her small hands flailed, her voice breaking into wails that echoed through the cavernous space. Her mother stood to one side, her face buried in her hands, sobbing quietly.

“Please,” her mother’s voice cracked, muffled by her trembling hands. “There must be another way.”

The man didn’t pause. His grip on Elorie’s small arms was unyielding as he pulled her closer to the altar. Her wailing grew louder, her legs kicking in futile resistance. The shadows painted the room in jagged, shifting lines as her young voice broke through the oppressive silence.

“Stop! I don’t want to! Please!”

She was forced to the edge of a stone bowl etched with runes that seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive. A thick, dark liquid inside shimmered with unnatural light, the sharp scent of herbs and salt filling her nostrils. The mixture burned her eyes, and the very air around it seemed to vibrate with power.

The man’s voice was firm, cold. “Hold her still.”

Her small hands were thrust into the liquid, and she screamed. The pain was immediate—a searing, fiery agony that shot up her arms like molten iron. It wasn’t just physical; it was deeper, burrowing into her soul, etching itself into her very essence. Her young mind reeled, unable to comprehend the violation, the way the liquid seemed to strip away something vital from her.

Her mother sobbed louder, her back turned, unable—or unwilling—to intervene.

Elorie’s breath hitched, her throat tightening as she was yanked back into the present. The memory dissolved like smoke, but the sensations lingered. Her hands trembled violently, phantom pain radiating through them as though they had just been plunged into that cursed bowl.

The acrid scent of the potion clung to her senses, and she could taste salt at the back of her throat, sharp and overwhelming. Gagging, she stumbled backward, the chapel’s oppressive aura suffocating her. Her knees buckled, and she turned, fleeing blindly.

Her feet barely carried her far enough before she fell to her knees, retching violently onto the ground. Her stomach heaved, bile burning her throat as the memory clawed at her mind, refusing to let go.

She pressed her forehead against the cool earth, her hands digging into the soil as though anchoring herself to reality. The world spun, and she could still feel the phantom heat, the sharp edges of the ritual, cutting into her soul. Tears streamed down her face, unbidden, as she gasped for air.

Behind her, Emmeline stood silently, watching. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes flickered with something close to pity. She didn’t approach, letting Elorie work through the storm on her own.

After a few moments, Elorie wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, her breaths still ragged. The chapel loomed in the distance, its dark silhouette unwavering. She stared at it, her chest tight with the weight of the choice before her.

She couldn’t go back. Not yet.

But deep down, she knew she would have to. And that terrified her more than anything.

Chapter Text

Klaus

Maddox moved through the dimly lit corridor of the hospital with the quiet grace of someone used to going unnoticed. He turned a corner and found Klaus leaning against the wall near a small, unused waiting room, his expression distant yet calculating. Klaus didn’t waste any time when he saw Maddox approach, his blue eyes sharp and intense.

“Are you telling me,” Klaus snarled, “that every single precaution we’ve taken—every coffin, every layer of containment—is still perfectly intact, and yet she remains tethered to my mother?”

Maddox straightened, his voice steady but cautious. “I checked them myself, Klaus. The coffins are secure, the seals undisturbed. Whatever connection exists between Elorie and Esther, it isn’t physical.”

“Wonderful,” Klaus snapped, his sarcasm biting. “Then it’s magical, which means it’s a thousand times more insidious and infinitely harder to unravel.”

Maddox hesitated. “I spoke to Valerie.”

Klaus stopped mid-step, turning his sharp gaze on Maddox. “And?”

“She’s in place,” Maddox replied. “She’s already at the death site, waiting for us to send her the unlinking spell. But—” he faltered, glancing away for a moment before meeting Klaus’s gaze again. “She doesn’t think it’s going to be that simple.”

Klaus’s lip curled, his patience thinning. “And why not?”

Maddox took a slow breath. “She told me something else. The reason she was sent to Mystic Falls was to reinforce a sealing spell on Elorie.”

Klaus’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “A sealing spell? On her?”

Maddox nodded. “She said it was meant to temper Elorie’s powers not cut her off from her magic. But Valerie now believes that the spell might have done more harm than good.”

“Explain,” Klaus demanded, his tone cold and clipped.

Maddox continued, his words measured. “The sealing spell wasn’t just a barrier. It was designed to suppress her connection to magic entirely. But if Esther’s influence had already begun to take hold, then reinforcing the seal may have trapped the connection instead of severing it.”

Klaus’s jaw tightened, his pacing resuming with renewed vigor. “So you’re telling me that the girl was to be shackled from her powers, and in doing so, shackled to my mother as well? Brilliant. Truly brilliant. The incompetence is staggering.”

“It was a precaution,” Maddox countered, his voice even. “No one anticipated this outcome.”

“No one except her,” Klaus hissed, his frustration boiling over. “My mother doesn’t act on whims, Maddox. If she’s inside this girl, it’s because she planned it.”

Maddox folded his arms. “Valerie’s still working on the unlinking spell, but she’s not confident it’ll be enough. Whatever Esther’s done, it’s deeper than anything we’ve seen before.”

Klaus came to an abrupt stop, his gaze cold and calculating. “Then I’ll do it myself.”

Maddox’s brow furrowed. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I’ll go into her mind,” Klaus said flatly. “If Valerie can’t unravel this connection from the outside, I’ll see for myself what’s tying them together.”

“That’s reckless,” Maddox said firmly. “Even for you. If Esther’s magic has rooted itself in her, there’s no telling what you’ll encounter—or what traps your mother’s left behind.”

Klaus’s smirk was dark, almost predatory. “At best, I sever the bond, free the girl, and gain myself a useful ally in Enzo.” His expression hardened, the cold glint in his eyes unmistakable. “But if my mother’s claws have sunk too deep… I’ll end her myself.”

Maddox studied him for a moment, his face unreadable. Diving into someone’s mind—especially someone as unstable as Elorie—was dangerous, even for someone like Klaus. “And you think that’s wise?”

Klaus’s smile didn’t falter. “Wise? No. Necessary? Absolutely.” His tone was chilling in its certainty. “The longer that bond festers, the more likely she’ll succumb to my mother’s magic. And that will give her a physical body with untapped magic. I can’t have that.”

Maddox considered it for a moment, the weight of Klaus’s plan settling in. “And how do you intend to get past her family? They’re not going to let you anywhere near her without raising suspicion.”

Klaus’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “That’s where you come in, dear Maddox. You distract the happy little family—Enzo, Jenna, and their brooding companion. Keep them busy for just long enough for me to slip into the hospital room. I won’t need long.”

Maddox frowned. “A distraction? They’re not going to be easily sidetracked. Especially Enzo—he’s sharp, and his loyalty to that girl runs deep.”

Klaus waved a hand dismissively. “Leave Enzo to me. I know how to keep him preoccupied. He won’t even realize I’m gone until I’m already in Elorie’s mind.”

Maddox exhaled slowly, the weight of the task settling over him. “And what happens if it doesn’t work? If she’s too far gone?”

Klaus’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “If she’s too far gone, then I’ll do what I must to sever the connection—whether it kills her or not.”

Maddox’s eyes flicked with concern, but he didn’t voice it. There was no point. Klaus was always willing to make difficult choices, and he wouldn’t hesitate if it came down to it. The vampire had his own agenda, and whatever feelings he had for Elorie were tangled in the same web of manipulation and necessity that governed his every move.

With that, Klaus turned and strode down the hall, his presence like a shadow that passed unnoticed through the hospital’s sterile walls. Maddox stood there for a moment, watching him go, his mind racing with the implications of what was about to happen. The plan was risky—reckless, even—but if anyone could pull it off, it was Klaus. Still, the thought of what might happen if things went wrong gnawed at him. The girl looked so fragile, and she was already teetering on the edge, and this... this could either save her or push her over that edge completely.

Klaus slipped into Elorie’s hospital room with practiced ease, his movements soundless as the heavy door closed behind him. The sterile scent of the hospital was suffocating, mingling with the rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring her fragile state. She lay still, her body pale and fragile against the white sheets, and for a moment, Klaus hesitated. He had seen countless witches, beings of immense power, crumble under the weight of magic that consumed them. But Elorie was young—far younger than he had expected. When Enzo had said the girl was young he hadn’t quiet given it much thought, but she couldn’t have been more than a teenager, a child really, yet she was trapped in something dark and ancient, something far beyond her years. The thought gave him pause.

Klaus could understand now why Enzo had been so fiercely protective of her. She was still just a girl, caught in a storm of forces she couldn’t hope to control. It reminded him, of his own sister and for a moment he found himself consumed by that thought. Steeling himself, Klaus moved closer to the bed, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer before he placed his hand on her forehead. His eyes closed as he concentrated, his mind slipping into hers, deeper and deeper until the hospital room vanished.

The world around him shifted, the sterile white walls fading into darkness.The sterile hospital walls dissolved, replaced by an eerie, cold expanse. His keen eyes took in the surroundings with a quiet intensity, every detail settling like a weight in his chest. His sharp gaze swept the scene before him: a compound—vast, ancient, and suffocating in its stillness. To his left, the chapel loomed, its once-majestic spire now cracked and weathered by time, casting long shadows over the ground.

Klaus felt his jaw tighten at the sight of it. The air around the chapel was thick with something foul, something dark that crept beneath the surface, too familiar for comfort. A place meant for salvation, perhaps, but one that clearly held only suffering. It reminded him too much of places he’d escaped—places that bound people, controlling them with invisible chains.

His eyes moved away from the chapel, settling briefly on the willow tree. Its long, sweeping branches draped protectively over a seating area, and for a moment, it seemed to offer some semblance of peace. But even that was an illusion. Klaus had a sense for places that harbored both beauty and torment, and this tree whispered of both—places of refuge and also pain. Elorie’s pain, no doubt.

Ahead, the manor towered, its stone façade casting a shadow over everything. The place seemed to watch him, oppressive and cold, as if daring him to come closer. It felt like a monument to control, to secrets. The dark windows revealed nothing, but Klaus could feel the weight of the place—this was where her power was being manipulated by his mother. His own memories—where his strength had been shackled and twisted—bubbled up, making his fists clench unconsciously.

To his right, a gardens sprawled out like a once-beautiful painting, now rotting. The wildflowers and vines that had likely been meticulously maintained at one time were now unruly, consumed by neglect. The beauty was still there, hidden under layers of decay, struggling to breathe.

Klaus exhaled slowly, the tension settling deep in his bones as he took in the scene. He’d fought countless battles, seen centuries of power twisted by fear and control, but this was different. Elorie was young—far too young to be caught in something so ancient, so dark. It stirred something unfamiliar in him, an echo of the protectiveness he once felt for his siblings.

His eyes drifted again toward the willow tree, and that’s when he saw them. Two figures sitting quietly beneath its sweeping branches, almost invisible in the shadowy gloom of the compound.

Klaus moved closer, his steps careful, instinctively soundless. His sharp eyes focused on the smaller figure first—that must be Elorie. The younger version of her. She sat cross-legged on the ground, looking impossibly innocent, her bright eyes fixed on the woman across from her. She laughed at something the woman said and then went back to drawing something on the floor.

It startled him, how much younger she looked here, in this place—like the child she likely hadn’t been allowed to be. She reminded him too much of his sister, too much of all the things he couldn’t save. But sentiment had no place here—only survival.

As Klaus drew closer, his eyes locked onto the older woman sitting beneath the willow tree. She wore a flapper dress, its shimmering fabric catching the faint light that seemed to barely penetrate this oppressive place. The elegance of her outfit clashed with the decaying surroundings, as though she were a ghost from a different time, somehow misplaced in Elorie’s fractured mindscape. Her posture was relaxed, but the moment she sensed his approach, her expression shifted.

She looked up at him with an inquisitive tilt of her head, her eyes scanning him with keen interest, but something flickered there—unease.

“You aren’t in her memories,” she said, her voice soft at first, but edged with suspicion. The serene look in her eyes hardened quickly as he got closer, her gaze narrowing. “Who are you?”

Klaus stopped, his posture tense but calm, the flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “A friend,” he replied smoothly, though his voice carried the weight of his presence, unapologetic and commanding.

The woman rose slowly, the shimmer of her flapper dress rustling with the movement. She studied him carefully, her lips pressed into a thin line. “A friend,” she echoed, her tone skeptical. “You don’t belong here. Not in this place.” Her gaze darted briefly to the young Elorie sitting beside her before returning to Klaus. “She didn’t invite you. So, I’ll ask again—who are you?”

Klaus didn’t flinch under her scrutiny, though he could sense the undercurrent of power in her, the way her presence seemed stitched into this place, like she had been here long enough to root herself deeply in Elorie’s mind. She was no passive figure—she had control.

He crossed his arms, his eyes flicking from the woman to young Elorie, who was watching the exchange with wide, anxious eyes. “I don’t need an invitation to protect her,” Klaus said, his voice steady and cold. “Now, tell me who you are, before I decide you’re not worth the time to ask.”

The woman leaned back in her chair, “My name is Emme, and this Ellie” She gestured at the child at her feet. “And’d we were just colouring. Passing the time you know.”

Klaus took a deep breath, his eyes darting between the elegant woman in the flapper dress and the young version of Elorie sitting quietly at her feet. The tension in the air felt almost palpable, but he kept his voice calm, measured. He had to play this carefully.

“I’m looking for someone,” Klaus said, his eyes shifting briefly to the child before locking onto Emme. “A young girl, maybe a bit older than the one in your arms. A teenager. I would appreciate any help you can offer.”

Emme tilted her head, her gaze calculating, but she didn’t answer right away. Instead, she studied him, her fingers gently brushing through Ellie’s hair, almost absentmindedly. “You’re very persistent for someone who doesn’t seem to belong here.” Her voice was still soft, but there was an underlying steel to her words. “You still haven’t told me your connection to her. What is she to you?”

Klaus resisted the urge to sigh in frustration. He needed to keep this civil, at least for now. “I’m a friend,” he said. “A friend of Enzo’s, actually.”

Emme’s eyebrow arched at the mention of Enzo’s name, her smile sharpening just a fraction. “Enzo’s friend, you say?” she asked, her tone dripping with curiosity. “And does Enzo’s friend have a name?”

Klaus couldn’t help the faint smirk that tugged at his lips. “Klaus,” he answered smoothly, his voice steady but firm. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

At the sound of his name, Emme’s expression flickered with something—recognition, perhaps—but she kept her composure. “Ah, Klaus.” She let the name linger in the air for a moment, as though tasting it. “Quite the reputation you carry with that name.”

Klaus’ patience was wearing thin, but he kept his temper in check. “Now that we’re acquainted, perhaps you can point me in the right direction. Where’s Elorie?”

Emme leaned back in her chair, her eyes glinting with something playful, though her smile didn’t quite reach them. She gestured lazily toward the far end of the compound, where the overgrown garden stretched out like a forgotten relic. “She’s sulking in the garden. But…” Emme paused, her gaze locking onto his, “you won’t be able to reach her.”

Klaus’ brow furrowed. “And why’s that?”

“Because,” Emme said, her tone turning almost casual, as if discussing the weather, “she kills anything that enters. It’s been that way ever since she gave up on removing the spells. Nothing survives there.”

Klaus’s eyes narrowed, the weight of her words settling into him. He had heard threats before, plenty of them, but this felt different. More like a warning. “And you expect me to believe that?” His voice was low, daring her to challenge him.

Emme’s smile remained, though it softened slightly. “Believe what you want, Klaus.”

Klaus clenched his jaw, his mind racing. This was just more of his mothers magic at play here. Dark magic. And the thought of that set his blood on edge.

Ellie, the small child at Emme’s feet, looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “The garden’s mean,” she whispered, her voice small but clear. “It doesn’t like visitors.”

Klaus glanced at the child, his expression softening briefly. This younger version of Elorie, lost in this twisted landscape, was likely a manifestation of the real girl’s fear, confusion, and pain. But he couldn’t leave her in that garden to rot, metaphorically or literally.

He turned his attention back to Emme, his voice colder now. “Then I’ll have to find a way to get her out.”

Klaus approached the garden cautiously, every step deliberate, his senses sharp. The further he ventured, the more the air seemed to change. The once vibrant flowers were long dead, their petals brown and shriveled, curling inward like claws. The trees were bare, their branches twisting in unnatural shapes, as though they had been tortured by time and neglect. The ground crunched beneath his boots, brittle leaves and dry soil giving way to his weight. And all around him, the faint sound of vines moving, whispering like living things, followed his steps, slithering just out of sight.

It wasn’t just dead—it was decaying, rotting, as if the entire garden was collapsing in on itself, feeding off the despair that filled it. Klaus could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating, pressing down on him with every breath.

As he ventured deeper, a structure came into view—a crumbling gazebo. The once-elegant pillars were cracked, the roof sagging as vines coiled around its supports, dragging it further into ruin. Yet, amidst the decay, there was a strange stillness. On one of the benches beneath the gazebo sat a girl, lying back with a book held above her face, reading as if the world around her wasn’t falling apart. Next to her lay a pile of books, stacked haphazardly, their spines cracked and weathered.

Klaus’s eyes narrowed as he moved closer, something about her catching his attention. At first, she looked calm, almost casual in the way she was lying there, but as he drew nearer, he noticed something strange about her hand—the one holding the book. It was black, the skin darkened and cracked, as though the rot from the garden had begun to claim her as well.

This had to be Elorie.

Klaus stopped just short of the gazebo, careful not to startle her. “Elorie,” he began, his voice steady but soft. “I mean you no harm. I’m a friend of Enzo’s.”

She didn’t look up, didn’t even flinch. Her attention stayed on the book in her hand, her fingers idly turning a page as if he weren’t even there. “And what does Enzo’s friend want with me?” she asked, her tone cool and detached, utterly uninterested in his presence.

Klaus hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the coldness in her voice. She was nothing like the girl Enzo had described to him—the one full of hope and potential. This girl was distant, like she had already given up.

He cleared his throat, recovering quickly. “You’ve had a run of incredibly bad luck, it seems,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual, non-threatening. “Somehow, you’ve come into contact with something—someone—very old. An ancient witch is trying to take over your mind.”

Still, she didn’t look at him. “I know,” she sighed, turning another page in her book. “Tell me something interesting. Something I don’t know.”

Klaus blinked, momentarily thrown off by her calm resignation. She didn’t sound scared, or even concerned—just… tired. He realized then how deep this went. Elorie wasn’t just trapped physically; she was trapped mentally, emotionally. And she’d been there long enough to feel like escape was pointless.

Taking a slow breath, Klaus decided to stop dancing around the truth. “The witch trying to take over your mind,” he said, his voice lowering, “is my mother.”

That got her attention.

The book snapped shut in her hand, and for the first time, Elorie shifted. She sat up, finally looking at him, her eyes sharp and calculating. “Your mother?” she echoed, her voice carrying a hint of disbelief, though her expression remained unreadable.

Klaus gave a small, humorless smile. “Yes. Esther. She’s powerful, and relentless. It seems she has a particular interest in you.”

Elorie blinked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Klaus, confusion written across her face. “And why is your mother so fixated on me? I’ve never met her—never met you until now—and my only crime seems to be stumbling on her grave and trying to siphon some magic. Why would she care about me?"

Klaus’ jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. He had asked himself the same question many times about his mother, trying to unravel the web of manipulations she wove so effortlessly. “To be honest,” he began, his voice laced with bitterness, “Who knows why my mother does half the things she does. It could be she wants your magic, your body, your mind. Other than being a manipulative bitch, her motivations are often buried beneath layers of her own twisted whims.”

Elorie sighed, clearly unimpressed with his answer. “So, in other words, you don’t know either.” Her tone was flat, bordering on exasperation.

Klaus let out a short, humorless laugh. “I suppose that’s the long and short of it.” He crossed his arms, his gaze flicking to the dying garden around them before settling back on Elorie. “But I can tell you this—Esther doesn’t make moves without a reason. If she’s latched onto you, it’s because she sees something in you, something she can use. And she’s relentless. Once she’s set her sights on a target, she won’t stop.”

“Great,” Elorie sighed, the weight of Klaus’ words sinking in. “So, just more useless words. If thats all, you can go now.”

Klaus shook his head, his expression softening. “Esther might be powerful, but she’s not invincible.”

She didn’t seem entirely convinced. “If I’m supposed to fight this... curse or whatever this is, then I need something more than that. Is there anything useful you can tell me about her?” she asked, her voice rising in frustration.

Klaus tilted his head, a spark of understanding in his gaze. He could see how overwhelmed she was, how tired. She didn’t just need reassurance—she needed information. Something tangible.

“Alright,” Klaus said, his tone more measured now. “You want useful? My mother’s strength lies in her magic, yes, but it also lies in her ability to manipulate people’s fears and insecurities. She feeds on doubt, on guilt, on any vulnerability she can find. It’s how she controls. She’ll try to worm her way into your mind, to convince you that you’re weak, that you can’t fight back.”

“Yes, well, I’m a teenage girl. I’m full of doubt and insecurities” Elorie said glaring at him, her focus sharpening.

Klaus took a step closer, his voice low but intense. “But the thing about Esther is that her greatest weakness is her arrogance. She underestimates people—always assumes they’ll bend to her will. If you can resist that, if you can hold onto who you are and what you’re fighting for, you can push her back. She’s not invincible.”

Elorie absorbed his words, her expression blank. “So, you’re saying that I have to outsmart her?”

“Outsmart her, or outlast her,” Klaus said, a faint smirk crossing his lips. “Whatever it takes. The key is not letting her get inside your head. The moment you start believing you’re already lost, she’s won. Thats how you defeat my mother.”

Elorie stared at him for a moment, then, almost as if to herself, she muttered, “Of course. Seems my real curse is to be surrounded by truly terrible mothers.”

There was no bitterness in her tone, only a resigned acceptance that sent a pang of sympathy through Klaus. He could see the cracks now, the way the garden’s rot had crept into her mind just as it had her body. She wasn’t just fighting Esther—she was fighting everything she had endured leading up to this moment.

Klaus stepped closer, his voice softening. “You’re not alone in this. You may feel like you are, but you don’t have to be. Esther’s plans aren’t inevitable.”

Elorie looked down at her blackened hand, her expression grim. “I’m surrounded by vampires with hundreds of years of experience and access to magic and the best you can do for is that I’m not alone. I’m nothing but alone. Even here in my head I’m alone.”

Klaus took another step closer, his gaze intense but filled with a rare softness, the kind he reserved for those who reminded him of the fractured parts of himself.

“You think you’re alone because of the circumstances around you,” Klaus said, his voice quiet but deliberate. “But you’re not. That’s what Esther wants you to believe—that no one can help you, that no one will help you. She’s feeding off your isolation, making you believe that you have to carry this burden by yourself.” He paused, watching her closely. “I know that feeling. All too well.”

Elorie cocked her head to the side, a sharp glint in her eyes as she regarded Klaus. "Is that your plan?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Bore me with speeches about hope and friendship?" Without waiting for a response, she rolled up her sleeve, revealing the full extent of the rot creeping up her arm. The blackness twisted over her pale skin, pulsing with dark energy, a grotesque reminder of the curse that bound her.

"This," she said, holding her hand out to him, the rot crawling dangerously close to her elbow, "is what happens when I try to break the curse without a plan. The more I fight, the deeper it digs in. So tell me, Klaus, what’s the point of your help if it doesn’t contribute anything useful?”

Klaus stared at her hand, the blackened skin a stark contrast to the girl Enzo had described—full of life, of potential. His heart clenched as he saw the way she had already resigned herself to her fate, the fight all but drained from her. But he couldn’t let her slip away, not like this. Not when she still had a chance, no matter how slim it might feel.

"You have people who care about you, Elorie," His voice was low, but there was an edge to it now, sharp and dangerous. "Enzo, Jenna, your friends. They haven’t given up on you."

Elorie scoffed, brushing him off with a wave of her good hand. "They’ll be better off without me. Once I’m gone, they can move on. Maybe they’ll even be happy for once."

Klaus took a step closer, his eyes locking onto hers, refusing to let her pull away. "If you won’t live for your family, and you won’t live for your friends… then live for something else. Live for revenge."

Her eyes flickered with something—curiosity, maybe, or the faintest spark of life. She blinked, her lips parting as if to protest, but then she paused. Klaus could see the wheels turning in her mind, the faint trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, as if the idea had some appeal after all.

With a heavy sigh, Elorie snapped her fingers, and in an instant, Klaus found himself standing back at the willow tree, the decaying garden and Elorie vanishing from sight.

He blinked, disoriented for a moment before a voice broke through the haze.

"Welcome back," Emme said, her tone light and amused. She was sitting under the willow tree again, her posture relaxed, as though she had been waiting for him. The pair were now having tea with the young Ellie indulging in a cupcake.”Have a good chat with our dear Elorie?"

Klaus turned to her, his expression hardening as he gathered his thoughts. "She’s not the same girl Enzo described."

Emme’s smile grew wider, though her eyes remained sharp. “No, I’m afraid this curse is twisting my little Elorie into someone I barely recognise. She used to be so cute and full of bright ideas you know” Emme fondly rubbed some crabs the young child’s face.

Klaus blinked hard, the world shifting violently around him, pulling him from the darkness of Elorie’s mind and thrusting him back into the stark, sterile reality of the hospital. The sudden change disoriented him for a heartbeat, but the tension remained, suffocating and pressing in on him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

He turned sharply, his eyes landing on Elorie, still lying in the hospital bed. But something was wrong—very wrong. The black veins that had only existed in the mindscape were now creeping up her pale face, spidering down her arm like dark tendrils of death. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath labored and uneven, and the heart monitor was beeping erratically, the frantic sound a harsh contrast to the eerie silence of moments before.

Klaus took a step toward her, but before he could react further, the heart monitor’s alarm cut through the room with a shrill, panicked beep.

"She's crashing!" a nurse shouted.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with nurses and doctors, their movements swift and precise as they swarmed around Elorie. Klaus was pushed back, a nurse ushering him out of the way. His eyes never left Elorie’s body as they began calling out orders to each other, their voices blurring into a cacophony of urgency.

“Get the crash cart!”

“She’s not stabilizing—pulse is weak!”

The nurses worked with frantic precision, their hands moving over Elorie’s body as they prepared to administer shocks. Klaus’s heart pounded in his chest, frustration bubbling up inside him. This wasn’t just the curse—it was manifesting in the real world, feeding off her, draining her. She was slipping away, and every second he stood there doing nothing felt like another nail in her coffin.

Before he could act, the door to the hospital room burst open, and Enzo stormed in, followed by Damon and Jenna, their faces pale with worry. Enzo’s eyes zeroed in on Klaus immediately, fury blazing in his gaze.

"What the hell happened?" Enzo demanded, his voice rough with anger as he shoved past the medical staff, making a beeline for Klaus. “What did you do to her?”

Klaus clenched his jaw, his own frustration boiling over. "I was trying to help."

"Help?!" Enzo shouted, his voice rising over the chaos. “This is what you call helping? She’s dying, Klaus!”

Damon, standing just behind Enzo, shot a glare in Klaus’s direction, his hands twitching as though he was barely restraining himself from launching an attack. Jenna looked stricken, her eyes darting between the doctors and Elorie, clearly horrified at what was unfolding before them.

Klaus’s mind raced, trying to push past the noise and chaos. The darkness, the rot—it wasn’t just in her mind anymore. Esther’s influence had bled into the physical world, and if they didn’t stop it now, Elorie wouldn’t survive this.

"She's fighting the curse,” Klaus snapped back, his voice sharper than he intended. “But she’s not winning. Esther—my mother—is trying to take her over. This is her doing, not mine."

Enzo’s fists clenched at his sides, but before he could respond, one of the nurses shouted, “Clear!”

Everyone tensed as the doctors administered a shock to Elorie’s chest, her body jolting from the force. The heart monitor’s erratic beeping continued, but there was a brief flicker of hope as her pulse returned, faint but present.

“She’s stabilizing,” one of the nurses called out, relief washing through the room.

But Klaus knew this was only temporary. Esther’s grip was tightening, and Elorie was running out of time.

Enzo’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second as he looked at Elorie, her pale face still marked by the creeping black veins. His fury quickly returned, though, and he turned back to Klaus, stepping closer, his voice low and dangerous. “If she dies because of this, I will personally make sure you suffer for it.”

Klaus met his gaze, unflinching. “She’s not going to die,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “But if we don’t act quickly, the curse will finish what it started.”

Damon crossed his arms, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, great. And what’s your plan, Klaus? ”

Klaus shot him a glare. “We need to sever Esther’s hold on her mind. That’s the only way to break this.”

Enzo’s expression twisted with frustration, but Klaus could see the fear behind his anger. “And how the hell do we do that?”

Chapter Text

Elorie sat in the decaying garden, her back leaning against a crumbling pillar as she held a gold art deco book in her lap. The intricate design of the cover shimmered faintly in the dull light of the mindscape, and in bold, elegant lettering, Emmeline was etched across it. The book felt heavy in her hands, not just in weight but in the burden of the life it carried.

After realizing that, in her mind, she could summon any book she had ever read in this or any lifetime, the once-haunting manor’s library had suddenly become a wealth of knowledge. She had spent hours exploring its endless shelves, pulling down books not just from her own memories, but from lives she hadn’t fully remembered until now. It was disorienting, but fascinating. And Emmeline’s life story, in particular, had drawn her in.

She flipped through the pages, her brow furrowing as she read more about Emmeline’s life—a life tragically cut short. Emmeline had run away from home to New Orleans, chasing the dream of being a singer. She had wanted freedom, a chance to escape the limitations of her upbringing. But that dream had ended in murder at the age of 24, her life snuffed out before she’d truly lived it.

Elorie’s fingers traced the smooth edge of the page as she thought about it. The weight of Emmeline’s life, the struggles, the hopes—all of it wrapped up in such a short existence. There was something terribly sad about it, and as Elorie turned another page, she couldn’t help but feel the hollow echo of that tragedy.

But there was something else in the books too. Gaps. Huge, yawning holes where paragraphs and entire sections had been redacted, lines upon lines of information crossed out, blackened into nothingness. It wasn’t just in one chapter—it was everywhere. Pages that should’ve contained details of Emmeline’s life, her thoughts, her emotions, were nothing but blank space, entire sections of her story erased.

Elorie frowned, her frustration building as she tried to piece together what was missing. It wasn’t just small details—it was pivotal moments, gaps that left too much unanswered. Why were they redacted? Who had decided what parts of Emmeline’s life should remain hidden? And why did those gaps feel so… intentional?

Another puzzle.

Frustration surged through Elorie as she threw the gold art deco book down, the pages fluttering briefly before it landed with a muted thud on the ground. The endless gaps in Emmeline’s story gnawed at her, like someone had deliberately taken a knife to the most important parts of her life. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it—not when there were so many more lives she had lived, so many stories that might hold some thread of understanding.

She reached for another book from the pile next to her, this one simpler in design, with a faded cover that hinted at a more modest life. As she opened it, the name Margaret appeared, and memories began to flood back, filling in the blanks.

In this life, she had been Margaret, a quiet but clever woman living in New York. Margaret had worked in the bustling chaos of a shipyard, tucked away in a small, cramped office where she filed documents—seemingly an ordinary job for an ordinary woman. But Margaret had been far from ordinary.

The book unfolded a life filled with secrecy and subtle rebellion. She had come in contact with all sorts of fascinating people—witches, travelers, and even those involved in the darker side of the supernatural world. Margaret had a knack for organization, but more importantly, she had a skill for misdirection. She often helped witches on the run, those fleeing persecution or danger, by "misplacing" their records in the vast sea of paperwork she managed. With creative filing and a sharp mind, Margaret had orchestrated countless disappearances, aiding witches to escape their pursuers without a trace.

Elorie felt a pang of admiration for this past version of herself. Margaret had been resourceful, strategic—a quiet force of resistance in a world that didn’t always value subtlety. Her life might not have been filled with grand displays of magic or power, but it was full of small, significant victories that had saved lives.

She flipped through the pages, engrossed in the stories of the people Margaret had helped. There were witches who had narrowly escaped death, families that had been reunited thanks to her careful manipulations of documents, and even a few darker figures who had sought her assistance for their own ends. Margaret had walked a fine line between the mundane and the supernatural, always one step ahead of those who would have destroyed the fragile network of protection she had built.

But as Elorie continued to read, she noticed something—a familiar pattern. Margaret’s life, like Emmeline’s, had redactions. Entire sections of her story were blacked out, and entire chapters were missing. Elorie's fingers traced over the blank spots on the page, her frustration deepening. Why was so much hidden? Why were these lives, these pieces of her past, so heavily censored?

Elorie stared at the pile of books at her feet, the frustration gnawing at her. Every single book, every single life she had lived, was marked by redactions—missing pieces, critical moments erased from the narrative. But one thing stood out above everything else. There was no book for her first life. No mention of it at all.

She ran her fingers over the spines of the other books, her mind racing. She had flipped through memories of lives that spanned centuries, lives full of struggles, triumphs, and tragedy, but that first life—the beginning—was a void, a complete absence in the sea of memories. And whenever she had asked Emmeline about it, there was always that same reaction: a distant, frightened look in her eyes, as if the very thought of Elorie’s first life sent a chill down her spine.

Elorie bit her lip, her mind spinning. What could be so terrible about that life that Emmeline, of all people, refused to speak of it? And why were there so many redactions, not just in one life, but in all of them? What was being hidden from her?

Her thoughts shifted, and the familiar ache in her chest deepened. Could the spells from my mother be tied to Esther? It wasn’t an unreasonable thought, given the growing connection she felt to Klaus’s mother. The spells her own mother had layered on her—protection, supposedly—could have been part of something much bigger. Something she had been blind to until now.

She thought back to the sapphire bracelet her mother had given her. She had thought it was just a simple charm, an innocent gift, but now it seemed like part of a much darker design. Esther’s influence, her ancient magic, could easily have been woven into the spells her mother used. If Esther wanted to control her, to bind her power, it would make sense to manipulate those closest to her—to use her mother’s spells as a foundation for whatever twisted plan she had.

Elorie pressed her good hand to her chest, her breath coming in slow, deliberate pulls. She closed her eyes, feeling for the magic coursing through her veins—a pulse, a hum, alive and familiar. But the sensation didn’t comfort her. Beneath it, intertwined with her essence, she could feel the tightly woven spells that bound her. They felt foreign, invasive, like shackles disguised as silk.

Her fingers curled against her chest as her breath hitched. How long have they been there? The thought clawed at her, growing louder with each passing second. She had always thought the spells were protections, safeguards against dangers she hadn’t been ready to face. Now, they felt suffocating, like a thief pressing their weight against her soul, stealing pieces of herself she hadn’t even realized were gone.

Elorie’s knees weakened, and she sank back against the crumbling pillar, her mind racing. She thought of the redacted books, the blacked-out words, the empty pages. Those aren’t just stories, she realized, her fingers trembling. Those are me. My lives, my memories, my choices—gone. Someone took them. Someone decided I didn’t deserve to know who I was.

The thought twisted in her chest, sharp and bitter. The tightly woven spells buzzed against her magic, and she reached out to them instinctively, feeling for the edges, the seams, any way to unravel their threads. The more she focused, the more she felt the intricate weave, each thread laced with layers of intent. There was power there—ancient, purposeful—but also something colder. Something that felt like control.

Her jaw tightened. Her mother’s spells had always felt protective, and loving, even if they had sometimes frustrated her. But now… now she couldn’t ignore the darker undertones. Was it truly her mother’s magic? Or had Esther used her mother as a vessel, a tool to weave her own design? The spells felt too clever, too calculated to be mere overprotectiveness.

A sharp pang of betrayal coursed through her. Her fingers pressed harder against her chest as she whispered to herself, “How much of me is even mine?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswerable. The magic in her veins stirred in response, almost as if it were trying to reassure her. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeper had been stolen—something vital. How could she fight for herself, for her freedom, when she didn’t even know who she was anymore?

The air around her shifted, subtle but undeniable. A faint chill ran down her spine, prickling at her skin and pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. Her head snapped up, her eyes scanning the garden. The once-vivid colors of the flowers seemed muted now, as though the decay had deepened in the short time she had sat there.

Her gaze darted toward the edge of the garden, where the trees loomed like silent sentinels. There, just at the edge of her vision, something moved. A shadow. It flickered between the branches, barely perceptible, but unmistakably there.

Elorie froze, her breath caught in her throat. Her good hand instinctively reached for the earth beside her, gripping a jagged stone she had noticed earlier. “Who’s there?” she called out, her voice steadier than she felt.

Silence.

The shadow was gone, the trees swaying gently in a breeze she couldn’t feel. Her grip on the stone tightened as her heart raced. For a moment, she thought she might have imagined it. The tension in her body eased just enough for her to exhale—but the chill remained, settling deep in her bones.

I’m not alone.

The realization sent a wave of both fear and determination through her. She pushed herself to her feet, the gold art deco book still at her side. Her magic thrummed weakly in her veins, drained from her earlier attempts to unravel the spells. But it wasn’t gone. It was still hers, still something no one could fully take from her.

Her voice was quieter now but filled with resolve. “If you’re watching me, you’re going to have to do better than hiding in the shadows.”

The air grew heavier in response as if acknowledging her challenge. But there was no answer, no movement. Just the oppressive stillness of the decaying garden.

Elorie turned her gaze back to the books scattered at her feet. The answers she sought weren’t going to come easily. If someone—or something—wanted to keep her from uncovering the truth, they were going to have to fight her for it.

Her fingers brushed the spine of another book, but she didn’t open it. Not yet. Instead, she straightened her posture, steeling herself. Whatever shadow lurked in the trees, whatever presence had taken an interest in her, she wouldn’t let it scare her. She had already lost too much of herself. She wouldn’t lose her courage too. With a final glance over her shoulder, Elorie gathered the books into her arms and started toward the manor. The answers were there, she was sure of it. And if someone didn’t want her to find them, that only made her more determined to dig deeper.

Days had blurred into a haze of contemplation and frustration. Elorie sat cross-legged in the garden once more, the decaying surroundings reflecting her spiraling thoughts. She closed another book and set it aside with a hollow thud, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the next one. But she didn’t open it. Not yet.

Her mind was far away, lost in the pattern she’d uncovered. Twenty years. That seemed to be her limit. In every life she’d read, she never made it past twenty. Not Emmeline with her glittering, tragic dreams of New Orleans. Not Margaret with her quiet, heroic defiance in the shipyards. None of them.

Her chest tightened as the truth settled in. The real tragedy wasn’t just the brevity of those lives; it was how close they came to something more. Each had fought, struggled, and burned brightly—only to be snuffed out before they’d truly had a chance to live. And now, here she was, not even eighteen, facing a fate that felt inevitable. She pressed a hand to her chest, her breath uneven.

It wasn’t fair.

Her teeth clenched as the thought looped in her head, louder and angrier with each repetition. It wasn’t fair that she’d been born into a psycho family, with secrets and spells layered over her like chains. It wasn’t fair that her mother had lied to her, locking her power away under the guise of protection. It wasn’t fair that Esther—Klaus’s ancient, scheming mother—had laid claim to her, as though Elorie’s life was just another piece on a board for someone else to control.

Her hands curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms. It wasn’t fair.

The bitter thought consumed her, filling every corner of her mind until she felt like she might scream. Instead, she exhaled sharply, her frustration manifesting in a low growl as she pressed her hand to her chest again. Beneath her fingers, she could feel the weave of the spells still tightly wound around her magic, constricting and suffocating her. They pulsed faintly, a constant reminder of everything she’d been denied.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Emmeline’s voice, smooth and sharp as ever, cutting through the haze. “This is what you grew up to be?” she asked, her tone somewhere between disdain and curiosity. “All that power, and what’s the point? You’re just going to die and hand your body over to some old witch?”

Elorie’s teeth ground together as she bit back in response. The words hit too close to home, echoing her own darkest fears. Was that all she was meant to be? A vessel for Esther? A footnote in someone else’s grand design?

Her nails dug deeper into her palm, and she whispered fiercely, “I have a right to live.”

The words felt small at first, a desperate whisper in the vast emptiness of her mindscape. But as she said them again, louder this time, they began to resonate. “I have a right to live!” she growled, her voice trembling with anger and determination. She had fought so hard for so long, and for what? To die before she’d even had the chance to figure out who she was?

It wasn’t fair. And she was done with it.

Her hand pressed harder against her chest, her fingers reaching out for the threads of the spells woven into her. She could feel them now, clearer than ever before—each thread distinct, each spell humming with intent. They had been placed there carefully, lovingly even, but they weren’t hers. They weren’t part of her. And they had to go.

Inhaling deeply, she focused on the first spell. It tasted of spiced almonds, warm and bittersweet as she pulled the thread. The magic resisted at first, tightening like a noose, but she grit her teeth and pulled harder, unraveling the thread one painful inch at a time. The spell dissolved into her, filling her veins with a heat that burned and soothed in equal measure.

One by one, she plucked at the threads, pulling them free. Each spell fought back, each one a struggle, but she didn’t stop. The taste of spiced almonds lingered, mingling with other flavors—sharp citrus, earthy sage, bitter clove—as the layers of magic unraveled.

Her body trembled under the strain, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Pain lanced through her chest, sharp and unforgiving, but she refused to let go. She coughed violently, the taste of copper flooding her mouth as blood splattered onto the ground in front of her. Her vision blurred, but still, she kept pulling.

Her vision swam as she pulled at the last thread, her chest heaving with exertion. Each spell had fought her tooth and nail, but now, they were gone—unraveled, dissolved into her. The strain was unbearable, her body trembling under the weight of magic she hadn’t been ready to reclaim. Blood dripped from her lips, vivid against the dull earth, as she clutched her chest, gasping for air.

And then, it happened.

A shift.

The oppressive weight pressing down on her lifted, replaced by something else—something warm, rich, and achingly familiar. She inhaled sharply, the scent of warm sugar and melted chocolate flooding her senses. The heat spread through her veins, soft and inviting, and her stomach twisted with immediate recognition.

Him.

Her teeth clenched in frustration, her exhaustion forgotten as the realization sank in. Klaus. Always appearing when she least wanted him, always lurking, pushing, prying. She grit her teeth harder, swiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand as her anger flared.

Then she felt it—a gentle prickle against her cheek, like the faintest brush of fingertips. Her breath hitched, and her eyes fluttered shut. She could feel him—his presence weaving through her thoughts like a thread unspooling in her mind.

Her fury ignited.

He was in the covenstead.

Elorie’s eyes snapped open, her body rigid as she stood, her fists clenched at her sides. She could see him in her mind’s eye now, standing among the doors of her past lives, his hand pressed against the one that was hers. The thought of him there—of him peering into the most vulnerable parts of her, sifting through memories she barely understood—made her stomach churn.

Her steps were quick and deliberate as she stormed back toward the covenstead. The air around her crackled with fury, the magic she’d reclaimed surging through her veins like fire. By the time she reached the doorway, she was vibrating with anger, her storm-grey eyes blazing.

She found him exactly as she had pictured: standing in the vast chamber, surrounded by the grotesque, pulsating rot that clung to the doors of her past lives. Klaus stood before the door marked with her name and year of birth, his hand pressed against its surface. The faint shimmer of her magic still clung to him, the connection between them humming like a live wire.

Klaus stood in the eerie stillness of the room, surrounded by doors that seemed to whisper of time long past. Each one was unique—some weathered and ancient, others newer but no less unsettling. Above each door, a plaque marked a year, each spaced roughly a century apart, stretching back nearly a thousand years. The weight of history pressed against the air, thick and oppressive.

But it wasn’t just the doors that caught his attention—it was the grotesque, pulsating layer of rot that clung to them. The fungal growth, dark and veined, seemed almost alive, its surface glistening faintly as it spread across the wood. It crawled like a living disease, its tendrils twisting and seeping outward from a single door at the center of the back wall. That door, larger and more imposing than the rest, pulsed faintly, the rot emanating from it in waves. The energy radiating from it was dark, twisted, and ancient.

Klaus’s gaze lingered on the central door before he turned his attention to the door closest to him—Elorie’s. This one was different. Unlike the others, it was free of the rot’s corruption, though its edges shimmered faintly as though resisting the encroachment. His hand hovered over it for a moment, his expression thoughtful, before he pressed his palm against the surface.

The connection was immediate, a sharp pulse that sent a flicker of warmth up his arm. Memories began to unravel, hazy and fragmented at first, but quickly gained clarity. A small, curious girl with storm-grey eyes, her hands reaching for things far too dangerous for her innocence. A mother’s cold voice, was sharp and commanding. The faint ache of loneliness, of a life shaped by control and secrets.

Klaus frowned slightly, his fingers pressing harder against the door as he sifted deeper. The spellbinding her was unlike anything he’d seen before—an intricate web of enchantments layered with intent and power. It wasn’t his mother’s magic. No, this was something entirely different.

“Interesting spell,” he murmured to himself, his voice quiet but weighted. “Not one of hers.”

The pulse from the door grew stronger, resisting his intrusion, and Klaus’s brow furrowed as he leaned into it. But before he could delve further, a cold breeze swept through the room, sharp and biting, breaking his focus. The sensation raised the hair on the back of his neck, and he turned, his smirk already in place, as if to mask the fact he’d been caught.

There she was. Elorie stood in the doorway, her grey eyes stormy and unrelenting, her lips pressed into a thin, furious line.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her voice low and cutting, each word dripping with anger.

“Hello, little witch,” Klaus drawled, his tone light, disarming, as though he weren’t intruding on something sacred. He straightened slightly, his hand dropping casually to his side. “Admiring the craftsmanship.”

“You’re in my head,” she snapped, taking deliberate steps into the room. The sound of her boots against the stone floor echoed faintly, adding to the tension in the air. “You don’t get to rifle through my past like it’s one of your little games.”

Klaus chuckled softly, tilting his head. “It’s not a game, love,” he said smoothly. “This spell—it’s fascinating. Intricate. I haven’t seen its like before. Tell me, who bound you like this?”

Elorie’s jaw tightened, and her fingers twitched at her sides. “That’s none of your business,” she said, her voice trembling with fury. “And if you think I’m going to tell you, you’re delusional.”

He sighed dramatically, shrugging one shoulder. “You wound me, truly,” he said, though the teasing glint in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “I’m here to help, you know.”

Her laugh was bitter, sharp as broken glass. “Help?” she spat. “I didn’t ask for your help. I don’t even know you.”

Klaus’s smirk widened, sharp and predatory. “That’s the beauty of having friends in high places,” he said, spreading his hands slightly. “Sometimes, the help finds you.”

Elorie’s fury burned brighter, her steps quickening as she closed the distance between them. The tension between them crackled like static, the air thick with unspoken challenges. She stopped just short of him, her voice low and trembling with restrained anger. “Stay. Out. Of. My. Head.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but watchful. “And if I don’t?”

Elorie didn’t answer. Instead, her hand shot out, gripping his wrist before he could react. The spark of her touch hit him like a jolt, and her magic flared as she pulled his hand closer.

“Let’s see how you like it,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice venomous.

The room seemed to shift, the rot pulsing faintly around them as her magic surged. Klaus felt it immediately—the pull, sharp and unrelenting, as she siphoned the energy from him. It was like a torrent, her raw power surging through the connection, and for a moment, his smirk faltered.

Elorie’s grip only tightened, her eyes locked on his as if daring him to stop her. The siphoning burned a visceral tug that left Klaus’s body tingling with a strange mix of pain and exhilaration. For all her fury, there was control in the way she wielded it—a precision that spoke of power yet untapped.

“Elorie—” he started, his voice strained, but she cut him off, her grip tightening.

Finally, she released him, shoving his hand away as she took a step back. Klaus exhaled, flexing his fingers as if testing them. His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous, though there was a flicker of something else in his gaze—something closer to admiration.

“Feel better?” he asked, his tone laced with faint amusement.

Elorie glared at him, her chest heaving as she steadied herself.

Elorie had never dived into anyone’s mind before. She hadn’t even known if she could. But in that moment, with her anger burning through her veins like fire, she didn’t care. If she had lived for hundreds of years, if she carried the remnants of past lives, surely one of them had figured it out. And if not, well, she would improvise.

Gripping Klaus’s wrist, her fury blazed. This stranger had invaded her mind, her memories, the most sacred corners of her being. She wanted him to feel it. To understand what it was like to have someone pick apart your thoughts like they were pages in an open book.

The connection hit her like a wave crashing over jagged rocks. She didn’t have time to prepare, to steel herself against the force of it. The moment she reached into him, her mind was overwhelmed by the vastness, the darkness. It wasn’t the gentle sift through memories she expected—it was an abyss, a maelstrom of raw violence and chaos.

Flashes of blood-soaked battlefields, the echoing screams of those he’d slaughtered, and the chilling stillness of lives he’d ended without thought tore through her. The pain wasn’t just physical—it was visceral, layered with guilt, fury, and something darker, something she couldn’t name.

She let go of his wrist with a gasp, stumbling back, her stomach lurching. She doubled over, retching, the carnage of his memories crashing through her like a storm. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, trying to steady herself, but the images wouldn’t fade. They lingered, sharp and searing, branding themselves into her consciousness.

Klaus was still smiling when she looked up, but his expression had shifted. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and his gaze burned with cold fury, like ice sharpened into blades. “Feel better?”

She glared at him willing everything in her body to focus. To breathe. To calm down. When everything in her body screamed at her to run away from this man. To escape him.

He was death.

“Didn’t like what you saw, love?” he asked, his voice low and biting.

The condescension in his tone snapped something in her, and she straightened, her hand raising instinctively in defense. Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, her vision still swimming with the horrors she’d glimpsed. “Stay out of my head,” she managed to say, her voice trembling but laced with steel.

Klaus’s smirk didn’t waver, but she saw the flicker of something else in his eyes—a warning, perhaps, or a challenge. “It seems we’ve struck a nerve,” he said, taking a deliberate step closer.

Elorie’s fingers tightened, the stolen magic she’d siphoned from him thrumming in her veins. With a burst of energy, she released it, the force rippling outward like a wave. It wasn’t a spell she recognized, but it didn’t matter. The intent was clear: banish him.

The energy slammed into Klaus, and he staggered, his expression shifting to one of surprise before he faded from the space. And then she was alone. The echo of his words and the lingering darkness of his memories. She exhaled shakily, sinking to the floor as her legs gave out beneath her. Her hand pressed to her chest, the remnants of his magic still humming faintly under her skin.

For all her anger, for all her power, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had only scratched the surface of Klaus Mikaelson. And that terrified her more than anything else.

Back in the garden, the air was still, heavy with the scent of damp earth and wilting flowers. Elorie’s fingers trembled as she ran them over the worn wood of the bench, trying to anchor herself. Her mind felt frayed, caught between the weight of her own struggles and the shadows Klaus had left behind.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and reached out for the threads of magic woven into her. The embers of the spells she was trying to siphon still lingered beneath her skin, faint and elusive. But every time she focused, every time she tried to grasp them, her thoughts drifted back to him.

Klaus.

The memory of him standing in the covenstead, so confident, so composed, sent a ripple of frustration through her. But beneath her anger, something darker churned—the echo of the abyss she had glimpsed within him. The violence, the carnage, the unrelenting weight of centuries’ worth of choices. It wasn’t just the vastness of his mind that unsettled her; it was the darkness that seemed to thrive there, cold and unforgiving.

She pressed her palm to her chest, her breath uneven as her thoughts raced. How could someone so composed carry something so monstrous within him? And why did it make her feel… small?

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the bench as she sat down, forcing herself to steady her heart. She wouldn’t be able to work on unraveling the spells today, not like this. Her focus was fractured, her emotions too raw.

Instead, she let herself lean into the quiet, the cool air brushing against her skin as she inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes, letting her awareness sink inward. If she couldn’t siphon the spells today, she could at least feel them, trace their layers, understand their structure.

The first layer hummed faintly, warm and bittersweet, like spiced almonds. It was familiar now, the way it wrapped tightly around her magic like a protective cocoon. Diana’s work, she realized, her mother’s touch unmistakable in its precision.

Beneath it, another layer—this one sharp, tingling like the fizz of citrus on her tongue. It felt foreign, almost clinical, its intent colder, less personal. A binding meant to suppress, to control. The magic bristled against her, resisting her touch like a frightened animal.

Elorie exhaled, her fingers relaxing slightly as she probed deeper. The layers beneath were quieter, their threads thinner, more intricate. Earthy sage, bitter clove, faint hints of copper. Each spell woven with intent, each one a cage holding her power in check.

It’s not fair, she thought. It’s not fair!

Elorie opened her eyes slowly, the garden’s decaying beauty settling into her vision. The day was fading, shadows lengthening across the ground. She would try again tomorrow, she told herself. Today, she had unraveled enough.

For now, that was enough.

She leaned back against the bench, her gaze drifting to the sky as she let herself breathe. The threads of magic hummed faintly within her, waiting. She would free them, one by one, no matter how long it took. But not today.

Chapter Text

Ellie stood at the edges of the garden, her small figure barely visible against the fading light. She had been there for three days, just watching, her hands twisting nervously in front of her. Elorie had tried to ignore it at first, but today the sight of her—the small, childlike version of herself—just standing there, silent and still, finally wore down her patience.

“El,” Elorie called out, exasperation lacing her tone. “What’s going on? You’ve been standing there forever. Are you going to say something, or what?”

Ellie turned slightly, her wide eyes meeting Elorie’s. She hesitated, biting her lip, before speaking in a soft, trembling voice. “Something happened…” she whispered, barely loud enough to hear. “To Emmeline.”

Elorie frowned, her frustration giving way to unease. “What do you mean ‘something happened’? What are you talking about?”

Ellie didn’t answer right away. Her eyes flickered toward the garden, where shadows seemed to move unnaturally, and she fidgeted with the hem of her dress. “She’s… she’s not okay,” Ellie said, her voice breaking slightly. “I think she’s really, really not okay.”

“Not okay how?” Elorie pressed, her brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, her small hands wringing together. “I don’t know how to say it,” she said, her tone edging toward a whine. “You have to come see…”

Elorie sighed, pushing herself to her feet. “Fine,” she muttered, brushing dirt off her hands. “Show me.”

Ellie turned without another word, leading the way into the garden. Elorie followed, her steps slowing as they neared the heart of the space. The air felt different—thicker, colder—and the familiar scent of damp earth was tinged with something foul and cloying. She frowned, her unease growing with every step.

When they reached the center of the garden, Elorie froze. The rot was everywhere now, spilling out of the manor and curling its grotesque tendrils around everything it touched. It crept over the willow tree, slithered along the cracked stones, and spread like a disease over the sparse grass. Her stomach churned as her eyes landed on the small iron table where Ellie and Emmeline often had tea.

There, slumped over one of the chairs, was a human-sized mass of rot.

Elorie’s breath caught, her body going rigid as she took in the sight. The mass was grotesque, shifting faintly as if it were alive. Tendrils of rot extended from its form, curling over the edge of the table, creeping toward the teacups that still sat there, eerily untouched.

“El?” Ellie’s voice was soft and scared, her small hand tugging at Elorie’s sleeve. “What’s happening? Is she… is she okay?”

Elorie didn’t answer right away. Her gaze was fixed on the grotesque form, her heart pounding in her chest. The stench of decay was overwhelming, sharp and acrid, making her stomach churn. She forced herself to take a step closer, her voice trembling as she called out, “Emmeline?”

The mass shuddered faintly, a wet, unnatural sound emanating from within. Elorie took a step back, her hands clenched into fists at her sides as the movement sent a ripple of dread through her.

“Is it her?” Ellie asked, her voice small and frightened. “I… I think it’s her.”

Elorie’s stomach twisted, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the grotesque figure. It was unmistakable now—the shape of a body was there, hunched and distorted beneath the layers of rot. Her voice cracked as she tried again. “Emmeline?”

The mass jerked violently, and a faint, raspy voice escaped from within. “Elorie…”

The sound sent a chill down her spine, the voice unmistakably Emmeline’s but warped, distant, as if dragged through layers of something dark and unholy. Ellie whimpered, clinging to Elorie’s arm.

“Elorie,” the voice rasped again, weaker this time. “Help… me…”

Elorie’s breath hitched, her heart pounding as she took an involuntary step closer. The rot recoiled slightly, its tendrils twitching as though it sensed her movement. She swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she whispered, “What happened to you?”

The rot pulsed, a sickly glow emanating from its core. Emmeline’s voice came again, barely more than a whisper. “Help…”

“Elorie,” Ellie whimpered, tugging harder at her sleeve. “We… we gotta go. It’s bad. Really bad.”

Elorie hesitated, her heart pounding as she stared at the grotesque mass before her. The rot pulsed faintly under her gaze, alive and insidious, clinging to Emmeline like a second skin. She swallowed hard, her chest tightening as she forced herself to move closer. Her hand trembled as she reached out, pressing her palms firmly against the corrupted surface.

The sensation was immediate—cold and damp, like touching decay itself. She gritted her teeth, ignoring the revulsion that clawed at her stomach, and closed her eyes. Summoning the remnants of Klaus’s magic that still hummed faintly in her veins, she let the energy flow through her fingers, willing it to burn away the rot.

Her hands began to glow, a faint, golden warmth spreading outward and pulsing against the darkness. The rot hissed and shuddered under her touch, and for a moment, she thought it might work. The energy surged, heat radiating outward as she poured everything she had into it.

But the rot didn’t leave.

As the glow faded from her hands, the decay remained, clinging stubbornly to Emmeline. The tendrils twitched and recoiled but refused to retreat. Elorie’s breath came in sharp, shallow gasps as she pulled her hands back, staring in disbelief at the unchanged mass. Her stomach churned, frustration and helplessness rising like a tide.

“Why won’t it work?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Emmeline stirred, the rot quivering as she shifted slightly. Slowly, painfully, she began to pull herself upright, her movements stiff and unnatural. The light in her eyes was dim, her face a pale echo of its former self. When her gaze met Elorie’s, it was heavy with anger and sadness, her expression a mixture of reproach and despair.

“Fix this,” Emmeline rasped, her voice hoarse and strained. The words cut through Elorie like a blade, sharp and accusing.

Elorie took a step back, her hands trembling at her sides. “I… I tried,” she stammered, her voice faltering. “I thought—I thought I could—”

“Not enough,” Emmeline interrupted, her tone low but seething. Her eyes, clouded and dim, burned with a fire that seemed to come from somewhere deep within. “You have the power, but you don’t know how to use it. Fix it.”

The weight of Emmeline’s words settled heavily on Elorie’s chest, guilt and frustration twisting inside her. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as she forced herself to meet Emmeline’s gaze. “I don’t know how,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I don’t know what to do.”

Elorie’s stomach twisted, the weight of the warning sinking deep into her bones. The rot pulsed again, its tendrils twitching as if in response to Emmeline’s words. Elorie took a shaky breath, her mind racing as she tried to think of a solution, a way forward.

“I’ll fix it,” she said finally, her voice firm despite the uncertainty that churned inside her. “I don’t know how yet, but I will.”

Emmeline’s gaze lingered on her for a long moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. Then she nodded a slow, reluctant movement.

Elorie sank onto the bench, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her thighs. Her breathing was shallow, her chest tight as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She stared at the garden, at the spreading rot curling around the edges, at Emmeline slumped under the willow tree. The grotesque sight was a stark reminder that her time was slipping away faster than she could manage.

She didn’t have days, weeks, or months to unravel her bindings thread by careful thread. She needed to act, and she needed to act now. Her gaze flickered to Ellie, standing a few feet away, her small frame taut with fear and uncertainty. Ellie’s presence was grounding, but it also served as a reflection of her fractured self—uncertain, hesitant, and caught between fear and resolve.

Elorie clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as her determination solidified. She didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not bound, helpless, and running out of time. Her gaze shifted to Emmeline, still half-consumed by the rot, her form barely visible beneath the twisted layers of decay.

“I want to live,” Elorie whispered, the words trembling in the air around her.

She closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her chest. Beneath her palm, she could feel the faint hum of the spells, the intricate weave of her mother’s magic still tightly coiled around her. They felt suffocating, like chains wrapped around her essence, holding her back, keeping her magic contained.

Her mother’s spells were meticulous, precise—she knew that much already. Diana had always been exacting, her power deliberate and unwavering. Elorie inhaled deeply, letting the taste of the spells rise in her mind. They were warm, bittersweet, laced with the faint taste of spiced almonds and something sharper, like citrus. She focused on that flavor, tracing it through her senses as she searched for the threads of her mother’s magic.

Every thread was distinct, yet they all wove together seamlessly, forming a web so tightly bound that pulling one seemed to strengthen the others. But now, as she pressed her awareness deeper, she began to feel their individual pulls. One thread buzzed faintly, resisting her touch like a taut wire. Another trembled, its energy sharp and brittle, fraying at the edges. She followed them, letting the textures and sensations guide her.

Spiced almonds, she thought, her breath evening out as her focus sharpened. Bittersweet, binding, deliberate. She followed the flavor, the hum of her mother’s magic resonating louder as she zeroed in on its source.

Ellie shifted nervously nearby, her voice soft and hesitant. “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” she whispered, her childlike tone trembling with worry. “You’re not ready.”

Elorie opened her eyes briefly, her gaze steady as she looked at the smaller version of herself. “I don’t have a choice,” she said quietly. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Ellie’s lips pressed into a thin line, her small hands twisting anxiously in her dress, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she glanced toward Emmeline, her expression filled with fear and something close to pleading.

Elorie ignored the lump rising in her throat as she closed her eyes again, focusing on the spells once more. She couldn’t afford to hesitate. This wasn’t about precision anymore—it was about survival. She felt the hum of her mother’s magic again, louder this time, each thread distinct as she traced its weave.

Her fingers pressed harder against her chest, her resolve solidifying. She didn’t need to pull the threads apart carefully anymore. She needed to rip them out, no matter the pain, no matter the risk. Her body trembled as she inhaled deeply, steeling herself for what came next.

Her focus locked onto the largest thread, the one that felt most like her mother’s presence—unshakable and all-encompassing. She dug into it with her mind, grasping at the thread as though it were a physical thing. It resisted at first, the magic tightening like a coiled spring, but she didn’t let go. She pulled harder, her breath catching as the spell fought back.

Pain flared in her chest, sharp and searing, but she pushed through it, yanking at the thread with everything she had. The taste of spiced almonds turned bitter, acrid, as the spell began to fray. Her vision blurred, her head pounding as the thread unraveled bit by bit.

She gasped as the spell finally snapped, the energy coursing through her like wildfire. It burned, sharp and consuming, but beneath the pain was something else—freedom. She could feel her magic stirring, raw and untamed, rushing to fill the space where the bindings had been.

But it wasn’t over. There were more threads, more layers. Elorie pressed harder, reaching for the next one as tears streamed down her face. Her body trembled violently, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she fought to reclaim what was hers.

“I’m not giving up,” she whispered fiercely, her voice cracking. “Not now.”

She pulled again, and the next thread came loose, its energy rippling through her veins like a storm. One by one, she ripped the bindings away, each snap bringing her closer to herself, closer to the power she had been denied for so long.

When the final thread broke, Elorie collapsed onto the bench, her chest heaving as she clutched at the wood for support. Her vision swam, her body wracked with exhaustion and pain. But beneath it all, she could feel it—her magic. It was there, wild and unbridled, thrumming beneath her skin.

A spark.

It was faint at first, a fragile ember buried beneath the wreckage of pain and exhaustion. Yet it pulsed steadily, an insistent rhythm that was entirely her own. Elorie’s breaths came in ragged gasps as she turned her gaze to her damaged arm. The skin was twisted, bruised, and broken—a stark reminder of her fragility. But now, with the hum of stolen magic vibrating through her, it no longer felt hopeless.

“I want to live,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but resolute.

She pressed her trembling fingers to the injury, summoning the fragmented words of a healing spell she had barely dared to hope would work. The chant tumbled from her lips, uneven and broken, yet it carried her determination. The magic responded, buzzing to life under her skin. A faint glow emanated from her hand, spreading warmth through her arm as the spell worked, knitting bone and tissue back together with painstaking slowness.

Tears streamed down her face, a mix of pain and relief, as the spell took hold. Her chest heaved with each labored breath, but she forced herself to keep going, pouring every scrap of magic she had left into the effort.

When it was done, Elorie sagged against the cold, unyielding ground, her body trembling from the exertion. The pain had dulled to an ache, and her arm, though not fully healed, felt solid and whole once more. She stared at it, flexing her fingers gingerly, a flicker of disbelief coursing through her.

She had done it. She had unraveled the chains that had bound her for so long. She had reclaimed a piece of herself.

But the cost had been high. Her body felt hollowed out, her magic drained, and a deep weariness settled into her bones. She wasn’t sure how much more she had left to give.

Still, as the world around her swayed and blurred, one thought cut through the haze, anchoring her with fierce clarity: I want to live.

The words echoed in her mind, steady and unyielding, growing louder with each repetition. She would live. She would fight. She would claw her way back from the edge of nothingness and reclaim everything that had been stolen from her—no matter the cost.

As darkness crept into the edges of her vision, Elorie clung to that spark, that ember of defiance. She wouldn’t let it fade. Not now. Not ever.

The world shifted, blurring into faint sensations—soft murmurs, a light touch, the faint scent of lavender. Elorie's consciousness wavered, dipping in and out of awareness like a flickering candle. As her vision sharpened momentarily, she recognized the faint, golden glow of a lamp in the corner of the hotel room. Her body felt heavy, her limbs like lead, but she could hear voices. For a moment she wasn’t in that rotting garden.

She was in a hospital.

“She’s burning up,” Enzo muttered, his tone edged with worry. His grip tightened slightly around Elorie’s hand as he glanced over at Jenna. “It’s like a fever, but... this isn’t normal, is it?”

Enzo? She tried to move her finger and squeezed his hand. Make some kind of movement to let him know she was here.

Jenna, perched on the side of the bed, set the hairbrush down with a soft click on the nightstand. She leaned closer, her brow furrowed, and pressed the back of her hand against Elorie’s forehead. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she pulled back, her gaze shifting to Enzo.

“You’re right. She’s too hot—this isn’t just a fever,” Jenna said softly, her concern clear. She glanced down at Elorie, brushing a stray curl from her damp forehead, her touch gentle but precise. “Something’s happening. I don’t think we can just wait this out.”

Enzo stood abruptly, his hand slipping from Elorie’s as he strode toward the desk where his phone rested. “That’s it. I’m telling Klaus we’re breaking their connection now,” he said, his tone decisive.

Jenna hesitated, watching him for a moment before returning her gaze to Elorie. “Are you sure?” she murmured under her breath.

“We’ve tried waiting for them to figure it out Jenna their way. And this thing. Its killing her.”

Elorie struggled at the sound of Jenna’s voice, a soft groan escaping her lips. Hear me. Hear me. She screamed in her head.

Jenna’s hand moved to brush lightly against Elorie’s cheek, her touch soothing. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered. “We’re here. We’ll figure this out. Enzo call Klaus now.”

No. She tried. Damn it. She didn’t even have enough magic. She needed more. If Enzo would just take her hand again she could siphon from him.

Enzo’s voice carried from across the room as he spoke into his phone, the calm cadence of his words belying the tension in his posture. Jenna glanced over her shoulder, her own worry mirrored in his expression, before turning back to Elorie.

As the minutes ticked by, the hotel room’s atmosphere grew heavier, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them both. Jenna reached for the hairbrush again but paused, her fingers trembling slightly as she hovered over Elorie. “Stay with us, Elorie,” she whispered. “We’re not giving up on you.”

The soft hum of her voice filled the space, an anchor in the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

The sterile hum of the hospital room was punctuated by the sound of the door opening, sharp and deliberate. Klaus swept in, his presence commanding as always, the corners of his mouth tilted upward in a faint, self-satisfied smile that never quite reached his eyes. Behind him Maddox followed staying at the fringes of the room keeping a healthy distance from them.

“How is my little witch?” he asked, his smooth voice cutting through the tension like a blade. His gaze swept the room, lingering on Elorie’s pale form before settling on Jenna, who instinctively straightened in her chair.

Jenna glanced up at him, her jaw tightening. “She’s running a high fever,” Jenna said carefully, her hand still resting on Elorie’s. “It spiked out of nowhere. But—” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Did you mean it when you said there was a way to separate her from the thing, trying to consume her??”

Klaus’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of something unreadable. He stepped closer to the bed, his gaze fixed on Elorie’s pale, fevered face. The faint flush of heat painted her cheeks, a stark contrast to her ashen complexion. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing shallow and uneven. His eyes narrowed as if assessing the situation, weighing his options.

“I don’t think you quite understand the complexity of what you’re asking,” Klaus said finally, his voice measured but firm. He straightened, folding his arms across his chest as his icy blue gaze shifted to Jenna. “Severing her connection to that magic is not like cutting a string. It’s deeper—woven into the very essence of who she is. If I remove it, there’s no telling what will happen, thats why we’ve working to slow separate them.”

“We can’t afford to wait any longer,” Jenna shot back, her frustration bubbling to the surface. She leaned forward, her hand still resting protectively on Elorie’s arm. “Because this? This isn’t working. She’s slipping away, Klaus.”

Enzo, standing near the bed, turned sharply, his expression tight with anger. “I’m not asking anymore. If you can sever it, do it. Now.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, his calm exterior unshaken by Enzo’s outburst. “You’re assuming I haven’t already been working on a solution,” he said coolly. “Patience, as they say, is a virtue. You might try exercising it.”

“Patience?” Enzo snapped, taking a step forward. “She doesn’t have time for patience!”

Before Klaus could retort, a faint sound broke through the tension—a soft, choked whisper. All eyes turned to the bed as Elorie’s fingers twitched, her hand slowly turning palm-up. Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze hazy but intent as she focused on Enzo.

“Do it,” she rasped, her voice barely audible but laced with determination.

Jenna’s breath caught, her eyes darting between Elorie and Klaus. “You heard her,” she said, her voice trembling. “She’s asking you to help.”

Klaus stared at Elorie, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze locked on her pale face. Then he sighed, the sound heavy with reluctant acceptance. “Very well,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But understand this—if something goes wrong, it’s on her. She’s the one who asked for this.”

Jenna bristled, her protective instincts flaring. “Don’t you dare blame her for this,” she snapped. “She’s doing everything she can to survive. You should try doing the same.”

Klaus ignored her, his focus shifting entirely to Elorie. He crouched slightly, his hand hovering over her chest, where the pulse of old magic thrummed faintly beneath her skin. “This won’t be pleasant,” he murmured, almost to himself. “For either of us.”

Enzo stepped closer, his jaw clenched. “If it saves her, then get on with it.”

Klaus cast him a sidelong glance, his smirk returning faintly. “So demanding,” he said, his tone light but laced with sharpness. “But since you insist…”

He looked over at Maddox, “Do let that old know we’re about to get started.” The air in the room seemed to shift as Klaus closed his eyes, taking Elorie’s hand in his own.

Jenna reached for Elorie’s other hand, gripping it tightly as the girl arched slightly on the bed. “Stay with us, Elorie,” she whispered urgently, her voice trembling.

Klaus’s expression tightened, his smirk slipping entirely as his focus sharpened. His expression softened, just for a moment. Then, with a sigh that was more theatrical than necessary, he stepped forward, taking Elorie’s hand in his. His fingers were cool against her fevered skin, and he closed his eyes, his presence suddenly heavier, more deliberate.

Jenna held her breath as the room seemed to grow colder, the air thickening with tension. Klaus’s brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, she thought she saw something flicker across his face—concern? Frustration? It was gone too quickly to decipher.

Elorie’s breathing hitched, her eyes fluttering open briefly before rolling back. Jenna tightened her grip on her hand, her knuckles white. “Is it working?” she asked, her voice desperate.

Klaus didn’t answer immediately. His jaw clenched, beads of sweat forming on his brow as the magic fought back, lashing out with tendrils of dark energy that crackled faintly in the air. “It’s... complicated,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

When he opened his eyes, his expression was unreadable once more, but his voice carried an edge. “She’s been tampering with something she doesn’t fully understand,” he said, his gaze locking on Jenna. “Your little witch has a talent for making a mess of things.”

Jenna clenched her fists, her nerves fraying. “What does that mean? What’s happening to her?”

“It means she’s trying to unweave spells that have been intricately placed on her,” Klaus replied smoothly, though there was a hint of irritation in his tone. “And in doing so, she’s overtaxed her magic. She’s burning herself out.”

Jenna’s heart sank as she glanced down at Elorie. “Can you stop it? Can you help her?”

Klaus’s sharp gaze flicked to her, and he let out a dry, almost exasperated chuckle. “I’m trying,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of sarcasm. “But it appears she prefers to fight her own way out of this mess, even if it kills her.”

His smirk curved upward again, but Jenna wasn’t fooled. Beneath the surface of his words lay a glimmer of genuine frustration, and perhaps even begrudging admiration. But there was no denying the danger in what he’d just said.

Klaus closed his eyes, his hand tightening slightly around Elorie’s as the room seemed to grow heavier. The faint hum of energy pulsed through the air, crackling like distant thunder. Jenna held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him, every fiber of her being willing him to do something—anything—to pull Elorie back from the edge.

The room grew colder, a shiver running up Jenna’s spine as she watched Klaus’s expression shift. His features tightened, his jaw clenching as though he were sifting through something tangled and resistant. For a moment, his brow furrowed, and Jenna thought she saw a flicker of something raw—concern, perhaps? Pain?—cross his face.

Klaus stepped into Elorie’s mindscape once more, the oppressive weight that had greeted him before now noticeably lighter. The air carried a faint sweetness, and the sickly rot that had choked the landscape had retreated, replaced by patches of greenery. The willow tree’s branches swayed gently in an unseen breeze, their sweeping tendrils casting soft, shifting shadows across the clearing.

He moved forward with practiced ease, his sharp eyes scanning the space for any signs of the chaos he’d encountered earlier. It wasn’t long before he heard the sound of small, quick footsteps.

The child came bounding toward him, her curls bouncing as she skipped. Her hazel eyes, so bright and full of mischief, locked onto him as she came to a stop. “Are you here to play with me?” she asked, tilting her head with an innocent smile.

Klaus arched a brow, studying her. “Play?” he repeated, his tone faintly amused. “I’m afraid I’ve never been much for games, little one.”

Ellie pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s boring. You’re boring.” She tilted her head the other way, as though studying him. “If you don’t want to play, why are you here?”

“I was hoping to have a word with your... guardian,” Klaus said smoothly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Where is she?”

Ellie’s playful demeanor faltered, her expression falling. Her shoulders sagged as she pointed toward the willow tree, her voice soft. “She’s over there.”

Klaus followed her gesture, his sharp gaze landing on the figure beneath the tree. Emmeline sat at a small table, her elegant flapper dress shimmering faintly in the dappled light. But something was wrong. Thick vines twisted around her arms and legs, anchoring her to the chair, while patches of dark rot crawled up her body, merging with the greenery in a grotesque mockery of life. Her once-confident posture was stiff, her hands clenched into fists as she glared at Klaus with a mixture of irritation and defiance.

“Ah, there she is,” Klaus murmured, his tone light but his eyes sharp. He walked toward the willow tree, Ellie trailing behind him. “You’re looking rather... restrained, my dear.”

Emmeline’s lips curled into a faint sneer. “And you’re looking as insufferable as ever,” she replied, her voice smooth but laced with venom. “What brings you back, Klaus? Did you miss me?”

Klaus smirked, leaning casually against the table as he examined her bindings. “You’ve lost your bite, Emmeline. Quite literally, it seems.” He gestured to the vines and rot covering her. “What happened to all that fire and fury?”

Her eyes darkened, and she leaned forward as far as the bindings allowed. “This isn’t my doing,” she hissed. “Things are getting worse. I’m simply caught in the crossfire.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Klaus mused, his smirk widening. “Crossfire?”

Before Emmeline could retort, Ellie tugged at Klaus’s sleeve, her small hand insistent. “Stop talking like grown-ups,” she said, her voice petulant. “You’re supposed to play with me!”

Klaus glanced down at her, his expression softening just slightly. “Play with you, is it?” he said, his tone indulgent. “And what, pray tell, shall we play?”

Ellie’s face lit up, and she grabbed his hand, dragging him toward a patch of grass. “We’ll play hide and seek! You count, and I’ll hide!”

Klaus allowed himself to be pulled along, his eyes flicking briefly to Emmeline, who rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. As Ellie began to explain the rules with great enthusiasm, Klaus crouched slightly to her level, his expression carefully neutral.

“Very well, little one,” he said. “But while we play, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Is that fair?”

Ellie paused, her brow furrowing as she considered. Then she nodded, her curls bouncing. “Okay, but only if you don’t cheat.”

“I never cheat,” Klaus said smoothly, though his smirk suggested otherwise.

Ellie giggled and darted off, calling out, “Close your eyes and count to ten!”

Klaus began counting, his voice steady as his mind worked quickly. He could sense that this child version of Elorie held answers—answers hidden beneath her playful exterior. And if humoring her with a game would give him those answers, he would oblige.

“Ten,” he finished, opening his eyes. He scanned the area, his sharp gaze already picking out Ellie’s telltale giggles from behind a cluster of bushes. As he approached, he called out casually, “Tell me, little one—what’s happening to your guardian? Why is she so... rooted?”

Ellie’s laughter softened, and her head peeked out from behind the bushes. “She made a mess,” she said simply, her tone light but her words carrying a weight beyond her years. “She tried to stop me from fixing things.”

“And what are you fixing?” Klaus pressed, crouching near her hiding spot.

Ellie hesitated, her hazel eyes flicking to the willow tree where Emmeline sat in her bindings. “Everything,” she whispered. “But it’s hard. She keeps trying to stop me.”

Klaus leaned forward, his voice low and coaxing. “Why would she do that? Doesn’t she want you to fix things?”

Ellie pouted, her little hands balling into fists. “She says I’m too little, but I know what to do! I just need a little more time!”

Klaus tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “And what happens if you can’t fix it?”

Ellie’s eyes widened slightly, and for the first time, she looked truly afraid. “Then she’ll win,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder toward the shadows creeping at the edges of the mindscape. “She always wins.”

Klaus’s gaze hardened, and he reached out, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Not if I have anything to say about it, little one,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Now, let’s finish our game, shall we?”

Ellie’s smile returned, though it was smaller this time, and she darted off to hide again. Klaus straightened, his eyes lingering on the willow tree and the bound figure beneath it. Emmeline met his gaze with a knowing smirk, but there was a flicker of unease in her eyes.

“Well, Klaus,” she drawled. “What do you think of our little Ellie? She’s full of surprises, isn’t she?”

Klaus finished counting, opening his eyes to find himself drawn toward the garden, its shifting vibrancy beckoning him. He moved with deliberate steps, his sharp gaze scanning for Ellie. As he approached, he heard the faint lilt of a child’s laughter and the soft murmur of conversation. His curiosity piqued, he rounded the overgrown hedges and found them—Ellie and Elorie.

Ellie was crouched on the ground, her small fingers plucking petals from a flower with the absent-minded concentration of a child at play. She hummed a tune, her curls bouncing with each subtle movement. Across from her, Elorie sat stiffly on the edge of a cracked stone bench, her arms crossed, her expression glacial. She looked as though she’d rather be anywhere else.

Ellie’s face lit up when she saw Klaus. “You found me!” she exclaimed, springing to her feet. “Did you follow the giggles? I tried to be quiet, but it’s soooo hard.”

Klaus smirked faintly, his eyes flicking to Elorie. “It seems I’ve stumbled upon a reunion. How charming.”

Ellorie’s icy gaze cut to him, her lips curling into a sneer. “What do you want, Klaus?” she asked, her voice cold and clipped. “I didn’t summon you.”

Ellie tugged on his sleeve, ignoring her older self entirely. “We’re not playing hide-and-seek anymore,” she declared. “Now we’re having tea, but there’s no real tea, and it’s kind of boring. Will you play something fun with me?”

“Fun, is it?” Klaus asked, tilting his head as he regarded her. “And what constitutes ‘fun’ in this peculiar little world of yours?”

Ellie giggled, spinning in place with her arms outstretched. “Something where you don’t just sit there all serious and grumpy,” she said. “Like tag! Or—ooh!—sword fighting!”

Elorie scoffed, her arms tightening around herself. “Don’t encourage her,” she said sharply. “She doesn’t understand what’s happening. She doesn’t get how serious this is.”

Ellie stopped spinning, her small face scrunching up in indignation. “I’m not dumb,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I know it’s serious! But being serious doesn’t make things better—it just makes it worse!”

Elorie rolled her eyes, her voice dropping into a cool monotone. “And what would you know about fixing anything? You’re a child. You don’t even understand what’s broken.”

Klaus’s smirk deepened as he watched the exchange, his sharp gaze shifting between the two. “You might be surprised, Elorie,” he said, his tone lazy but edged with intrigue. “Children often see things with a clarity we lose over time.”

Ellie nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing. “See? You never listen to me! Why don’t you ever listen?”

Elorie’s eyes narrowed, her voice turning icy. “I’m trying to fix what’s been done to me. If you can’t handle that, stay out of my way.”

Ellie pouted, stomping her foot. “You’re so mean!” she said, her voice trembling. “Why are you so mean? I’m part of you!”

Elorie flinched, her jaw tightening as if Ellie’s words had struck a nerve. For a moment, she looked away, her expression hardening even further. “Then stop acting like a child,” she muttered.

Ellie’s lower lip wobbled, but she quickly masked it with a determined smile, turning back to Klaus. “You’ll play with me, right?” she asked, her hazel eyes wide and pleading.

Klaus chuckled softly, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. “I suppose I could be persuaded,” he said smoothly. “But while we play, perhaps you can answer a few questions for me.”

Ellie tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Questions? Like a game of riddles?”

“Precisely,” Klaus said, his smirk softening into something almost kind. “But first, lead the way. What are we playing?”

Ellie clapped her hands, her earlier sadness forgotten in an instant. “Tag!” she declared. “But if you catch me, you have to tell me a secret.”

Klaus rose to his full height, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Very well. But if I win, you have to answer my questions truthfully.”

“Deal!” Ellie said, darting off before he could respond.

Klaus cast a glance back at Elorie, who remained rooted to the bench, her arms still crossed. “Not joining us?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Elorie’s glare was ice-cold. “I’m not here to play games, Klaus,” she said sharply. “I have things to do if I intend to survive this.”

Klaus’s smirk returned, sharper now. “Ah, but understanding the stakes doesn’t always mean knowing how to win,” he replied smoothly. “Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from her.”

Elorie said nothing, her jaw tightening as she turned her gaze away, leaving Klaus to follow Ellie into the garden. As he moved, he couldn’t help but feel the tension between the two versions of the witch—one so consumed by bitterness and control, the other clinging desperately to innocence and hope. The dichotomy fascinated him, and he knew there was more to uncover.

Klaus spotted Elorie in the distance, her figure outlined against the ominous silhouette of the chapel. A chill ran down his spine as he quickened his pace, the air growing colder the closer he came. The chapel emanated an oppressive energy that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t just wrong—it was dangerous, and whatever Elorie thought she was doing, it was bound to end in disaster.

“Elorie!” Ellie’s panicked scream cut through the stillness. The child darted past him, her small form heading straight for her older self with desperation etched across her face.

Klaus lunged, catching Ellie around the waist just before she could reach the chapel. He lifted her off the ground, ignoring her furious squirming. “Stay back,” he ordered, his voice sharp. “You don’t know what she’s about to do.”

Ellie twisted in his grip, her hazel eyes wide and shining with tears. “Let me go!” she cried, her voice breaking. “She’s going to hurt herself! I have to stop her!”

Klaus’s gaze snapped back to Elorie, who was now standing before the rotting door of the chapel. Her hands pressed against its decaying surface, and to his horror, the rot began to creep up her arms like living vines, curling and twisting as though it had found a new host.

“Elorie, stop!” he shouted, his usual composure slipping. She didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him at all. Her focus was entirely on the door, her lips moving as though she were speaking to something—or someone—on the other side.

Ellie thrashed in his arms, her small fists pounding against his chest. “Let me go! I have to help her!” she screamed, her voice high and frantic.

Klaus tightened his grip, not trusting what might happen if the child reached the corrupted magic. “You’ll only make it worse,” he snapped, though his voice wavered. He wasn’t sure what was worse—the rot wrapping around Elorie, or the determined, almost serene look on her face.

Suddenly, Ellie twisted in his arms and bit down on his hand. Hard. Klaus hissed, more surprised than hurt, and the moment of shock loosened his hold. Ellie wriggled free, hitting the ground running as she bolted toward Elorie.

“Ellie, no!” Klaus barked, but the child didn’t stop.

Ellie flung herself at Elorie, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. The rot surged, tendrils creeping onto Ellie’s arms as well, binding them together. “Don’t do this!” Ellie cried, her voice trembling. “I want to live too! I won’t let you leave me!”

Elorie stumbled slightly at the impact, glancing down at the child clinging to her. “Let go,” she said coldly, her voice laced with irritation. “You don’t understand.”

“I do!” Ellie shouted, her hazel eyes fierce. “You think you’re the only one who’s scared? The only one who wants to live? You’re not! We’re the same, remember? I want to live too, Elorie!”

Elorie’s jaw tightened, her icy demeanor cracking just slightly. “This isn’t about you,” she snapped. “It’s my life, and I’m trying to fix it.”

“You can’t fix it without me!” Ellie shot back, refusing to loosen her grip. “You need me, and I need you! Stop pushing me away!”

Klaus took a hesitant step forward, his eyes locked on the strange scene. The rot continued to crawl over their bodies, binding them together in a grotesque cocoon of decay. “Elorie,” he said cautiously, “whatever you’re planning, this isn’t the way. Step back now, before it’s too late.”

But neither girl listened. Instead, Elorie’s gaze softened, just barely, as she looked down at Ellie. For a moment, there was something like resolution in her eyes—a flicker of understanding, of acceptance. “Fine,” she said quietly. “We’ll do it together.”

Her hand pressed against the door, and the rot surged, wrapping around her arm like hungry vines. But this time, she didn’t pull away. Her magic surged, bright and unrelenting, and the rot burned under her touch.

The chapel trembled, its decayed structure collapsing inward as the oppressive aura shattered.

Klaus’s eyes widened in alarm. “What are you—”

Before he could finish, flames erupted from the girls’ entwined forms, engulfing them in a sudden, searing blaze. Klaus staggered back, shielding his face from the heat as the fire roared, consuming the rot, the door, and the girls themselves.

“Elorie!” he shouted, panic lacing his voice. Was this some desperate attempt to end it all? To destroy herself and the connection to his mother?

But as he stared into the flames, he realized something strange—this wasn’t ordinary fire. It burned with a brilliant, almost glorious light, brighter and purer than anything he’d seen. The rot writhed and screamed, shriveling under the intensity of the flames, but the girls... the girls remained.

The flames began to wane, and Elorie emerged first, her steps steady despite the faint tremble in her legs. Her face, so often cold and guarded, softened as she glanced down at Ellie, who clung to her side. The child looked up, her wide hazel eyes shimmering with tears.

“Is it gone?” Ellie whispered, her voice barely above a squeak. “Did we win?”

Elorie crouched to meet her gaze, brushing a stray curl from Ellie’s damp cheek. “Not yet,” she said softly, her voice steady but laced with sadness. “There’s one more thing I have to do.”

Ellie’s lip wobbled, her small hands clutching at Elorie’s arm. “No! You can’t!” she cried, her voice breaking. “It’s scary in there! It’s bad! It’ll eat you up like a big, mean monster!” She pointed toward the Covenstead, where the pulsing rot still clung to the decaying building. “Don’t go!”

Elorie sighed, her gaze flickering to the chapel before settling back on Ellie. “I have to,” she said gently. “I can’t leave it like this.”

Ellie shook her head, her curls bouncing wildly. “You don’t have to! You don’t! Just stay here! We can play! We can... we can fix it later! Just don’t go in there!”

Elorie’s chest tightened at the desperation in Ellie’s voice. She cupped the child’s face, forcing her to meet her eyes. “Listen to me, Ellie. I know it’s scary, but this place has held me back for too long. I can’t let it win. I have to finish this.”

Ellie sniffled, her tears spilling freely now. “But what about me?” she whimpered. “If you go in there, I’ll go away. I’ll be all gone! I don’t wanna be gone!”

Elorie’s throat tightened, her fingers trembling as she wiped away Ellie’s tears. “You won’t be gone,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “You’re part of me. You always have been. I’ve just been too scared to see it.”

Ellie tilted her head, confusion flickering in her wide eyes. “Part of you?” she echoed. “Like... like how?”

“Like a puzzle piece,” Elorie explained, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I’ve been missing you all this time, and I didn’t even know it. But now... now I’m ready to be whole again. If you’ll let me.”

Ellie stared at her for a long moment, her small hands clutching at Elorie’s sleeves. “Will it hurt?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Maybe,” Elorie admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “But not as much as staying broken.”

Ellie hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But promise me something?”

“What?” Elorie asked, her own voice a whisper.

Ellie leaned closer, her hazel eyes searching. “Promise you won’t forget me,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Promise you won’t forget how to have fun! Or how to laugh! Or how to look at the stars and make wishes! Promise!”

Elorie’s chest ached at the raw sincerity in Ellie’s voice. She smiled through her tears, pressing a kiss to the child’s forehead. “I promise,” she said. “I’ll remember everything.”

Ellie’s small face broke into a watery smile, and she reached out, placing her tiny hand over Elorie’s heart. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’m ready.”

The child began to glow, her form dissolving into a warm, golden light that spread over Elorie like a gentle embrace. The light filled every corner of her being, flooding her with memories, emotions, and a sense of completeness she hadn’t felt in years. Elorie gasped, clutching her chest as the warmth settled into her, melding with her magic, her soul.

When the glow faded, Elorie stood alone. Her hand rested over her heart, her breaths coming in slow, steady pulls. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of her gratitude. “I’ll keep my promise.”

Klaus approached cautiously, his sharp gaze assessing her. “You seem... different,” he said, his tone wary but intrigued.

Elorie didn’t look at him. Her focus was entirely on the chapel ahead, its rotting door still pulsing faintly. “I am,” she said simply.

The vines were crumbling to ash around her, the air clearing, and sunlight broke through the canopy above. The garden bloomed once more, vibrant and alive, the weight of the past finally lifted.

And Elorie looked... different. The tight, cold anger that had once defined her features was gone, replaced by something lighter, something resolute. For the first time, Klaus saw her look at peace.

Then she turned to him, and to his surprise, she smiled—a sly, almost triumphant grin. Her voice, though still laced with exhaustion, carried a sharp edge of humor as she said, “One down. Now to deal with the real problem.”.”

Klaus’s brow arched, and despite himself, he let out a soft chuckle. “I must say,” he drawled, folding his arms as he regarded her, “you do have a flair for the dramatic.”

Elorie’s grin widened, and she shrugged, the gesture almost casual despite the weight of what had just occurred. “Comes with the territory, I guess,” she said lightly, though there was a glimmer of something deeper in her eyes—defiance, resilience, and a spark of victory.

Klaus stepped closer, his gaze sweeping the transformed landscape before settling back on her. “You’ve burned away the rot,” he remarked, his tone softer now, almost contemplative. “And an entire building to boot. That’s no small feat, little witch.”

Elorie inclined her head, her expression serious despite the lingering smile. “It wasn’t just me,” she admitted, glancing down at Ellie, who clung to her hand with quiet resolve. “I couldn’t have done it without her.”

Ellie tilted her head up to look at Elorie, her hazel eyes bright with pride. “We did it together,” she said softly, her voice filled with a childlike simplicity that belied the enormity of what they had achieved.

Klaus watched them for a moment longer, his sharp mind already calculating the implications of what he’d just witnessed. Whatever Elorie had unlocked within herself, it was raw, dangerous, and undeniably hers. It set her apart, not just as a pawn in the greater game, but as a potential player—a powerful one. And that, he realized, made her an entirely new kind of threat.

“Very well,” Klaus said finally, his smirk curling at the edges as he straightened. “One mother down, as you said. Shall we begin plotting how to evict the other?”

Elorie’s gaze met his, her hazel eyes glinting with determination. She looked far older than her years, weariness carved into her expression, but there was steel behind it. “I have a few ideas,” she said, her tone steady. “And we’ll need to act quickly. Esther’s not going to like that I’ve burned through my mother’s chains.”

Klaus inclined his head slightly, a flicker of genuine respect ghosting across his features. “Then let’s not waste time. How can I assist, love?”

Elorie hesitated for a fraction of a second, then stepped forward, her posture straight and unyielding. “I need a name,” she said evenly. “One of my ancestors. She died in the 900s.”

Klaus raised a brow, curiosity sharpening his gaze. “An ancestor, is it? And what do you intend to do with this name?”

“For now,” Elorie replied coolly, “I’ll keep that to myself.”

He chuckled softly, his arms folding across his chest. “How delightfully cryptic. Go on, then.”

“She was the daughter of Andresen,” Elorie continued, her voice measured. “From what I’ve been able to gather, her family crossed the waters and settled somewhere near a colony of people Esther describes as... blessed with the gift of speed and strength.”

Klaus’s smirk froze. His body stiffened, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as her words sank in. Daughter of Andresen. Settled near those with speed and strength. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

Elorie kept talking, her focus shifting inward as if thinking aloud. “The records I’ve found are fragmented, and it doesn’t help that Esther’s tampered with so much of my family’s history in my head. But if I could—” She broke off mid-thought, glancing up, and frowned. “Klaus?”

He was gone.

“Seriously?” she muttered, her fists clenching. “Does he think he can just disappear mid-conversation?” Elorie’s expression twisted in frustration her frown deepening as she turned her gaze back toward the empty space where Klaus had been standing. “Well, he’s not getting out of it that easily,” she said, her voice low and resolute. “Whatever it is, I’ll find out. With or without him.”

Chapter Text

Klaus opened his eyes to the sharp, sterile light of the hospital room, his senses grounding him in the present. A faint hum of tension lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive, like a storm waiting to break. Jenna’s worried face swam into view, her brow furrowed as she hovered beside him.

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice clipped and strained. “Is she okay? Did you do something?”

Klaus straightened slowly, his expression unreadable as his sharp gaze shifted to the young witch lying in the hospital bed. Elorie’s cheeks were flushed with color now, her previously pallid complexion replaced by a rosy vibrance that hadn’t been there in days. Her chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of sleep, the fever that had wracked her body seemingly gone.

“She’s overcome one hurdle,” Klaus said smoothly, his voice low but firm. He adjusted his cuffs with deliberate precision, his movements calm despite the firestorm brewing behind his eyes.

“That’s it?” Jenna’s frustration bubbled over. “What does that even mean? You just... went into her head, and now you’re telling me she’s fine? You have to give me more than that!”

Klaus regarded her coolly, his lips curling into a faint smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “My dear Jenna,” he said, his tone patronizingly calm, “it means exactly what I said. She’s fought through something significant. For now, she’s stable.”

Jenna’s shoulders stiffened, her fists clenching at her sides. “Stable doesn’t mean safe,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “If you know something—if there’s anything you’re not telling me—”

“Excuse me,” Klaus interrupted, his tone taking on a razor-sharp edge. He stepped around her smoothly, his presence as dominating as ever. “I have other matters to attend to.”

He strode toward the door without sparing her another glance. Jenna’s protests followed him, but he dismissed them with the slightest wave of his hand. He had no time for drawn-out explanations—not when the implications of what had happened in Elorie’s mindscape still burned in the back of his thoughts.

As he made his way down the hospital’s quiet corridors, his sharp eyes scanning for Maddox, a familiar figure appeared in his path. Enzo.

The vampire’s dark eyes gleamed with barely restrained anger as he stepped forward, his movements swift and deliberate. Before Klaus could react, Enzo shoved him hard against the wall, the impact reverberating through the corridor. Klaus’s smirk was back in an instant, his composure unshaken despite the force of the move.

“What the bloody hell is going on, Klaus?” Enzo growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You waltz out of her room with nothing but some cryptic nonsense about a hurdle? That’s not good enough. Tell me what happened to her.”

Klaus’s smirk widened as he shoved Enzo off effortlessly, his strength making the other vampire stumble back a step. “I don’t take kindly to being manhandled, Enzo,” he said, his voice silky and cold. “And if you think your little display of bravado will earn you answers, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Enzo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching. “You’re playing games while that girl’s life is hanging by a thread,” he hissed. “If you know something, you’d better start talking.”

Klaus’s expression darkened, his sharp blue eyes narrowing. For a moment, the weight of his presence seemed to fill the hallway, a suffocating reminder of who and what he was. “If you must know,” he said, his voice low and venomous, “Elorie has taken it upon herself to undo the spells that have bound her for years. She’s succeeded, but not without cost. Her fever broke because she burned through the chains that tethered her magic. She’s alive, thanks to her own stubborn determination.”

Enzo’s gaze flickered with a mixture of relief and lingering anger. “And you’re just going to leave it at that? What about Esther? What about—”

“If that’s all,” Klaus interrupted smoothly, his tone laced with finality, “I have something to check on.”

He turned to leave, but Enzo’s hand shot out, gripping his arm. “This isn’t over,” Enzo warned, his voice low and cold.

Klaus glanced down at the offending hand before meeting Enzo’s gaze with a pointed smirk. “No,” he said softly, “it isn’t. But you’ll have to wait your turn.”

With a sharp tug, Klaus freed himself and strode away, his pace unhurried but purposeful. There was no time to waste.  There was something he absolutely needed to check before he spoke back with Elorie. If he was correct, the girl was no random witch selected by Esther but rather something more painful and malicious but also not beyond his mothers machinations to hurt him to his core.

As he exited the hospital, his thoughts churned like a storm. For the first time in a long while, Klaus felt the stirrings of something he couldn’t quite place.

Pain.

Klaus returned to Elorie’s mindscape later that night, the familiar weight of magic pressing against him as the ethereal landscape shifted into focus. The oppressive atmosphere he had encountered before had softened. The rot was gone, replaced by a verdant calm that felt entirely out of place in this strange realm. The willow tree swayed gently in a phantom breeze, its cascading branches creating a cocoon of green.

And there she was, seated beneath the tree with a stack of books piled neatly beside her. Elorie had her legs tucked beneath her, her fingers idly tracing the spine of one of the volumes. Her face was serene, almost peaceful, as if the chaos and danger surrounding her had melted away in this quiet moment. Klaus found himself watching her for a beat longer than he intended, something uncomfortably warm flickering in his chest.

When she turned to face him, the softness in her expression vanished, replaced by a glare sharp enough to cut stone. “Did you come to be useful this time?” she snapped, her tone biting.

A smirk tugged at Klaus’s lips, and he crossed his arms, leaning casually against the nearest tree. “I see your hospitality hasn’t improved.”

Her glare deepened, and she snapped the book shut, the sound sharp in the stillness. “You’re the one who walked out mid-conversation. The least you could do is bring something helpful.”

Klaus chuckled, a low, rich sound that echoed in the clearing. The little witch was refreshingly blunt. Most people who dared speak to him like that didn’t live long enough to repeat the offense. Yet, with her, he found himself amused rather than enraged. And that worried him more than he cared to admit.

“Useful?” he drawled, tilting his head slightly as his eyes swept over her. “Perhaps. Though, with that attitude, I’m inclined to take my time.”

Her fingers twitched, her irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. “Don’t test me, Klaus.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with mock sincerity. “As it happens, I believe I’ve uncovered something about your ancestor.”

Her eyes sharpened, a spark of curiosity igniting in her glare. “Who? Tell me.”

Klaus raised a brow, letting the moment stretch as he studied her. She was an intriguing mixture of defiance and vulnerability, a flame burning bright despite the weight of her burdens. “Now, now,” he teased, his voice smooth. “A little politeness wouldn’t kill you, darling.”

She scowled, her lips pressed into a thin line before she forced a measured breath. “Please, Klaus. Tell me what you’ve found.”

He gave her an exaggerated nod of approval. “Much better.” Stepping closer, he dropped his arms and clasped his hands behind his back. He weighed his word carefully before giving her a measured stare. “Her name may have been Hrist. Hrist Andresen.”

Elorie blinked, the name settling over her like a whisper of recognition. “No way,” she breathed, her expression lighting up with an excitement that caught him off guard. She turned abruptly, her hands darting toward the pile of books beside her. “I’ve seen that name before—here.”

She pulled a thick, worn volume from the middle of the stack, her fingers moving deftly as she flipped through its pages. “It’s Deborah’s story,” she explained, not looking up. “Hrist is mentioned in passing—barely a footnote. It wasn’t clear if she was a witch from my family, but they described her as ‘one who sees.’ I thought it was interesting.”

Klaus leaned down slightly, his curiosity piqued despite himself. “One who sees?” he repeated, his tone thoughtful. “And what exactly did she see?”

“That’s what I don’t know.” Elorie’s brows knitted together as she scanned the text, frustration seeping into her voice. “It was so vague. Did anything about that come up when you were researching her? What does it mean?”

Klaus hesitated, careful not to reveal more than he intended. His smirk softened into something more guarded, though his eyes remained sharp. “Who knows what mysteries you witchy people always speak in riddles”

Klaus leaned against the edge of the table, his sharp blue eyes following Elorie as she let out another dramatic sigh and dropped her head onto the wooden surface.

“If that’s all you have to share, you can go now,” she said, her tone flat and dismissive. She waved him off without even looking up, the gesture so casual it might as well have been an afterthought.

Klaus’s lips twitched, caught between irritation and amusement. She was dismissing him—him—as if he were some trivial annoyance. The sheer audacity of it. He could snap her neck in an instant, crush her under the weight of his power. And yet, the brazen witch-child had the gall to treat him like a fly on her plate.

What a fascinating creature.

Rather than leave, as she clearly hoped he would, Klaus reached for the nearest book from her stack. Its spine was weathered, the leather cover etched with intricate designs. He turned it over in his hands, his curiosity piqued. “If you’re so eager to send me away, perhaps I’ll make myself useful first,” he said, smirking as he flipped the book open.

The pages were blank.

Klaus frowned, his amusement faltering. He flipped through several more pages, each one as empty as the last. The book, while ornate and meticulously maintained, contained no words, no stories, no trace of the knowledge Elorie so desperately sought.

“Curious,” he muttered, closing the book and picking up another one from the pile. He opened it and was met with the same result—nothing but pristine, empty pages. “Tell me, little witch,” he drawled, “is this what passes for literature in your mindscape? Empty pages and grandiose covers?”

Elorie’s head shot up, her brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her tone tinged with confusion.

Klaus held up the book, flipping through the pages as if to prove his point. “They’re blank,” he said simply, his smirk returning. “Not a single word in sight.”

Her frown deepened as she snatched the book from his hands. “What? No, they’re not. Look.” She opened the book to a random page, tapping it with her finger. “It’s all here. Every word.”

Klaus leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. “I see nothing,” he said, his tone edged with curiosity now. “Just empty pages.”

Elorie blinked, her confusion giving way to a flicker of realization. A slow smile spread across her face, and she let out a small, amused laugh. “Oh, that’s hilarious,” she said, her tone turning smug. She closed the book and set it back down on the pile, looking far too pleased with herself.

Klaus arched a brow, folding his arms. “Care to enlighten me, or are you planning to sit there and gloat?”

She shrugged, clearly enjoying the turn of events. “It makes sense,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the books. “This is my mindscape. The books are filled with what I know—or at least what I think I know. For you, someone who isn’t me, they’d be blank. You don’t have access to the same memories, so there’s nothing for you to see.”

Klaus’s smirk wavered, and he regarded the books with renewed interest. “Convenient,” he said dryly, though he couldn’t hide the flicker of intrigue in his voice. “So these books contain your memories, but only you can read them?”

“Seems that way,” Elorie said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied expression. “Guess you’ll have to trust me on what’s in them.”

Klaus chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Trust, little witch, is not something I dole out lightly.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask for it,” she shot back, her eyes glinting with amusement.

He tilted his head, studying her. She was sharper than he’d expected, and her wit, though infuriating, was... refreshing. “Tell me, then,” he said, his voice smooth, “what fascinating secrets are hidden in these books that you’re so desperate to uncover?”

Elorie’s smirk faltered, and her gaze flicked to the pile of books. “Answers,” she said simply, her tone quieter now. “About me, about my family. About why all of this is happening.”

For a moment, the levity between them faded, replaced by something heavier. Klaus didn’t press further, sensing that even she didn’t fully know the answers she sought. Instead, he picked up another book, turning it over in his hands.

“Even if I can’t read them,” he said, his smirk returning, “perhaps I can help you interpret what you find. Consider it a gesture of... goodwill.”

Elorie raised a brow, her skepticism clear. “Goodwill? From you? What’s the catch?”

Klaus chuckled, placing the book back on the table. “No catch. Just curiosity. After all, I’m invested in keeping you alive, at least for now.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she reached for the book she had snatched from him earlier, flipping it open and scanning its pages. “Fine,” she said, her tone begrudging. “But don’t get any ideas. This is still my mind.”

Klaus leaned in slightly, his smirk widening as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind Elorie’s ear, the gesture both intimate and disarming. His voice dropped, smooth and teasing, as he murmured, “Oh, darling, you have no idea how fascinating your mind truly is.”

Elorie’s mouth went dry. Was he... flirting with her? Her cheeks burned, the sudden heat making her uncomfortably aware of the closeness between them. No, no, no, no. This was Klaus. Dangerous, infuriating Klaus. She narrowed her eyes, her pulse quickening—not from fear, but from something far more unsettling.

“Stop that,” she snapped, though her voice wavered slightly.

“Stop what?” Klaus asked innocently, though the wicked gleam in his eyes said he knew exactly what he was doing.

Before she could overthink it, Elorie’s hand shot up, gripping his wrist tightly. Klaus’s smirk faltered, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

“Let’s see how you like this,” she muttered, focusing her magic.

A sharp pull surged between them as Elorie yanked at the threads of his power. Klaus’s eyes widened in shock as she siphoned a portion of his magic, her determination overriding the unease simmering beneath her surface. With a burst of will, she ejected him from her mindscape entirely.

The room was suddenly silent, Klaus’s presence gone as if he’d never been there. Elorie exhaled shakily. The warmth in her cheeks hadn’t faded, and she pressed her palms against the wood, grounding herself.

What. Just. Happened?

Her thoughts spiraled, a chaotic mix of disbelief and indignation. Had Klaus really been flirting with her? And why, for the briefest of moments, had she felt... drawn to it?

“No,” she whispered firmly, shaking her head as if to banish the thought. “Absolutely not.”

She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. But the memory of his smirk and the teasing lilt of his voice lingered, an unwelcome distraction that left her more rattled than she cared to admit.

Klaus returned to the waking world with a faint, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He opened his eyes, his sharp gaze immediately scanning the room. Jenna was gone, her usual seat now occupied by Enzo, who leaned back with an air of cautious vigilance. The other vampire raised an eyebrow at Klaus, his expression a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.

“Well?” Enzo asked, his voice cutting through the lingering silence. “What’s the verdict, then? Should I start planning her eulogy, or is there hope yet?”

Klaus chuckled softly, stretching slightly before straightening his posture. “Your dramatics are charming, but unnecessary. We’re getting closer to severing the connection between Elorie and my mother. Without killing her, I might add.”

Relief flickered across Enzo’s face, though he tried to mask it behind a nonchalant shrug. “That’s good to hear,” he said, his tone measured. “I wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of her being a casualty in this mess.”

Klaus’s smirk widened. “How noble of you.”

Enzo ignored the jab, leaning forward slightly. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, the weight of his gratitude evident in his voice. “And... I owe you an apology for earlier. My outburst was out of line. I let my frustration get the better of me.”

Klaus waved a hand dismissively, his expression one of mild amusement. “Think nothing of it. Your concern for the girl is... admirable. I understand how protective instincts can make one irrational.”

Enzo gave him a sidelong glance, clearly not expecting Klaus to be so accommodating. “Still, I appreciate it,” he said. “I don’t know how I’d ever repay you for all of this.”

Klaus’s smirk turned predatory, a glint of mischief sparking in his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, studying Enzo with calculated interest. “Oh, I have a few ideas.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into his expression. “Should I be worried about what those ideas might entail?”

“Perhaps,” Klaus said with a chuckle, his tone light but laced with meaning. “But don’t fret, dear Enzo. I’ve yet to decide what would amuse me most. For now, focus on keeping the witch alive and cooperative. I’ll let you know when I’ve made up my mind.”

Enzo sighed, leaning back in his seat and running a hand through his hair. “You’re enjoying this far too much, aren’t you?”

Klaus’s grin widened, his sharp blue eyes glinting. “You have no idea.”

Klaus rose from his seat, smoothing the front of his jacket with an air of casual confidence. His smirk lingered as he glanced at Enzo, who seemed more relaxed now that the immediate threat to Elorie’s life had passed. “Well, then,” Klaus began, his tone light and inviting. “What do you say to a drink? Something to clear the tension. I could use a bit of a diversion, and I daresay you could too.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Tempting, but it’s my turn to keep an eye on Elorie. Can’t exactly leave her alone while she’s still tethered to this whole mess.”

Klaus waved a dismissive hand, his smirk widening. “Oh, come now. The girl’s out of the woods—for now, at least. She’ll likely do little more than sleep, sulk, or plot her next dramatic outburst. Hardly a reason to keep yourself tethered to her bedside.”

Enzo’s frown deepened. “And if something does happen?”

Klaus tilted his head, his expression exuding calm self-assurance. “If it puts your mind at ease, I can have Maddox watch over her. He’s more than capable, and frankly, I could use a bit of intelligent conversation for a change.”

Enzo sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s one of my finer qualities,” Klaus quipped. “Now, come along, Enzo. The world won’t stop spinning if you indulge in a drink or two.”

After a long pause, Enzo relented, pushing himself up from the chair. “Fine. But if anything happens while we’re gone, I’m blaming you.”

Klaus chuckled, his tone laced with amusement. “Blame me all you like, my dear Enzo. Just try to enjoy yourself while you do.”

The two left the room, Klaus’s stride confident as he led the way. The hospital’s sterile atmosphere soon gave way to the lively hum of the city outside. It didn’t take long before they found a nearby bar, its warm glow spilling onto the street and the faint buzz of conversation and music beckoning them inside.

As they entered, Klaus took in the surroundings with a discerning eye. The bar was lively but not overcrowded, the perfect mix of noise and privacy. He gestured toward a booth near the back, already envisioning the many ways the night might unfold.

Enzo followed, his expression guarded but curious. “You always this eager for company, or is this your way of trying to distract yourself?”

Klaus’s smirk returned as he signaled for drinks. “A bit of both, I suppose. There’s something refreshing about breaking the monotony. And, as I said, you could use the distraction as well.”

Enzo leaned back in his seat, his gaze sharp as he studied Klaus. “You’re insane you know that?”

Klaus chuckled, raising his glass as it was brought to the table. “To enigmas, then,” he said with a wink. “And to a night without dramatics.”

Enzo raised his own glass with a smirk. “I’ll drink to that.”

The glasses clinked softly as Klaus and Enzo toasted, the warm glow of the bar’s lights dancing in the amber liquid within. Klaus took a sip, savoring the slow burn of the whiskey. Across from him, Enzo leaned back in his seat, his expression softening as the tension from earlier began to ease.

“So,” Klaus began, his tone casual but probing, “what is it that keeps you so tethered to the girl? You hover over her like a hen watching its last chick.”

Enzo smirked, shaking his head as he swirled his drink. “You make it sound pathetic,” he said, his voice tinged with humor. “It’s not like that. Elorie’s... well, she’s like family. A little sister, if I had to put a label on it.”

“A little sister,” Klaus repeated, raising a brow. “Interesting choice of words for a man who’s always been a lone wolf.”

Enzo shrugged, his gaze fixed on his glass. “Maybe. But family doesn’t have to be blood, does it? Sometimes, you just find people worth looking after.”

Klaus hummed, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “How noble of you. But let me ask you this, Enzo—how far would you go to protect her?”

“As far as it takes,” Enzo said without hesitation, his voice firm. “She’s been through enough. If there’s a way to keep her from more pain, I’ll find it.”

Klaus smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Such devotion. Tell me, have you ever considered the possibility that she might outgrow needing you?”

Enzo snorted, taking a long sip of his drink. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You don’t look after someone because you want them to stay dependent. You do it so they can stand on their own. And trust me, Elorie’s plenty strong already. She just doesn’t realize it yet.”

Klaus watched him for a moment, his smirk softening into something more contemplative. “A wise sentiment,” he said, tilting his head. “Though I must say, your affection for her is... intriguing.”

Enzo narrowed his eyes slightly, setting his glass down. “What are you getting at, Klaus?”

“Oh, nothing,” Klaus said airily, waving a hand. “Just an observation. You’re so fiercely protective, so... attentive. One might wonder if there’s something more behind it.”

Enzo laughed, the sound sharp and amused. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s like a kid sister to me. Always has been.”

“Of course,” Klaus said smoothly, his smirk widening. “Though I must admit, your dedication is admirable. Perhaps even enviable.”

Enzo rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “Whatever you say, mate. But I’ll tell you this—if you’re trying to rile me up, it’s not going to work. I know exactly where I stand with Elorie.”

Klaus chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. “As you say, my friend. To knowing where we stand.”

“To family,” Enzo replied, clinking his glass against Klaus’s.

The night wore on, and as the whiskey flowed, Enzo began to loosen up, sharing stories about Elorie that ranged from her stubborn streak to the surprising moments of vulnerability she rarely let anyone see. Klaus listened with an air of detached curiosity, though his sharp eyes didn’t miss the warmth in Enzo’s voice or the way his words were laced with a quiet pride.

“She’s got a fire in her,” Enzo said at one point, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “Even when the odds are stacked against her, she doesn’t back down. Reminds me of someone else I used to know.”

Klaus raised a brow, his smirk returning. “And who might that be?”

“Someone from another life,” Enzo said, brushing the question off. He downed the rest of his drink, then looked at Klaus with a faint smirk of his own. “You know, for all your brooding and scheming, you’ve been surprisingly helpful. Almost... human.”

“Almost,” Klaus echoed, the amusement in his tone masking the flicker of something deeper. “Don’t let it fool you, Enzo. I’m still very much a monster.”

Enzo laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “A monster who shares drinks and cracks jokes. Who would’ve thought?”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Klaus found himself studying the man across from him. Enzo’s loyalty to Elorie was admirable, even endearing, but Klaus couldn’t shake the undercurrent of something more. Not in Enzo’s feelings, but in his own. He dismissed the thought with another sip of whiskey, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

Klaus tilted his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl before taking a slow sip, his sharp gaze flicking to Enzo.

“You’re an interesting man, Enzo,” Klaus remarked, his voice low and reflective. “Loyal to a fault, stubborn as a mule, and entirely too earnest for someone in this lifestyle.”

Enzo chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back. “You’re not exactly what I expected either, Klaus. For all your talk of being a monster, you’ve got layers. Like an onion. A very angry onion.”

Klaus laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. “Angry onion? I’ll have to remember that one.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “To layers.”

“To layers,” Enzo echoed, clinking his glass against Klaus’s.

The moment of levity was short-lived. Enzo’s phone buzzed against the table, and he grabbed it without hesitation. As soon as he answered, the color drained from his face. Klaus watched his companion tense, his usual easy demeanor replaced with a sharp alertness.

“Jenna?” Enzo said, his voice low and urgent. He paused, his brows furrowing as he strained to catch the words on the other end.

Klaus leaned in slightly, his sharp senses picking up the faint, broken sound of Jenna’s voice, her words trembling with emotion.

“She’s crashing,” Jenna choked out, her pain bleeding through every syllable. “Elorie... something’s wrong. You need to come back. Now.”

Enzo shot to his feet, the haze of alcohol evaporating in an instant. Klaus followed, his own demeanor shifting to something colder, sharper.

“What’s happened?” Klaus asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Enzo didn’t answer, his attention fully on Jenna as he grabbed his coat and headed for the door. Klaus threw a few bills on the table, his smirk gone, replaced by a steely resolve. His little witch couldn’t go a night without trying to kill herself, could she? 

Chapter Text

Elorie’s stomach twisted as her thoughts spiraled, piecing together fragments that refused to stay still. The rot, the spells, the gaps in her memories—it all felt connected, like pieces of a puzzle sliding into place but just out of reach. Esther’s influence reached further than she had ever imagined, deeper than she had dared to suspect.

And yet, the first life—that glaring absence—loomed over her thoughts like a shadow. Why was it missing? Why had it been erased from every trace of her existence? The other lives had been obscured, sure, but this one was utterly wiped clean. No whispers, no clues, no remnants.

A cold dread settled in her chest as she considered the possibility. What if the truth of that life was the key to everything? The curse, Esther’s obsession with her, the rot infecting her body and mind—it all seemed to circle back to that void. A life she couldn’t remember. A life someone didn’t want her to remember.

Maybe that’s where she needed to go.

Her gaze shifted toward the manor, the structure looming like a malevolent sentinel in the distance. Its dark windows seemed to watch her, hollow and unblinking, daring her to approach. She had avoided it for as long as she could, choosing to focus on the bindings of her mother and its many tendrils. But the manor—the Covenstead—was the heart of Esther’s rot.

Her steps were measured as she approached, her senses hyper-aware of the silence surrounding her. The air felt heavier, charged with the weight of anticipation. Every crack in the stone, every flicker of movement in her peripheral vision seemed to whisper warnings, urging her to turn back. But she ignored them. She wasn’t here to be deterred by the fears of her past.

As she reached the entrance, her hand hovered over the handle. The metal was cold, its chill seeping into her palm as she hesitated. Her chest tightened, her mind racing with possibilities. What if the answers she sought weren’t just hidden here—but something she wouldn’t survive uncovering?

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she forced the thought away. She wasn’t going to let fear stop her. Not anymore. Not after everything she had endured.

She gripped the handle, her pulse pounding in her ears, and pushed the door open. It groaned in protest, the sound echoing through the cavernous hall beyond. The interior was dark, the shadows deeper and more oppressive than she remembered. Dust motes danced in the faint light streaming through the high windows, and the scent of decay lingered in the air.

The air in the manor was thick with rot, the stench of decay wrapping itself around every corner as Elorie stepped inside. The once-familiar covenstead now seemed like a grotesque parody of what it had been, the dark rot creeping further than she had ever seen before. Vines of blackened corruption twisted along the walls, wrapping themselves around doors—particularly Emmeline’s. It was almost completely engulfed, the foul presence covering the entrance like a suffocating blanket.

And there she was—Emmeline, sitting on the floor near her door, her breathing shallow and labored. Black veins snaked up her neck, spreading across her pale face. She looked fragile, a shadow of the woman who had once stood tall in this place. But even in her weakened state, Emmeline’s sarcasm was unyielding.

“Well,” Emmeline said with a dry, bitter chuckle, her voice thin and strained. “Have you come to join me in my final moments, dear?”

Elorie stepped closer, her gaze steady, but her heart was pounding with too many questions. She regarded Emmeline for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “Why are you hiding in here?” she asked quietly, but the edge in her voice was unmistakable.

Emmeline’s tired eyes flicked up to meet hers. “I didn’t want to scare Ellie,” she muttered, gesturing weakly toward the door, as if that explained everything.

Elorie remained still, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the woman before her. She had always sensed that Emmeline knew more than she let on, but now the weight of those secrets felt unbearable. After a tense silence, Elorie finally spoke, her voice calm but filled with accusation. “Did you ever intend to share anything useful with me about this rot?”

Emmeline exhaled heavily, slumping further against the door, the strain evident in every movement. “It’s part of the spell,” she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t talk about it. None of us can.”

That was it. The same deflection, the same vague excuses, and Elorie had had enough.

She took a step closer, her tone sharper now. “In any of my past lives—did we ever know a witch named Esther?”

Emmeline’s eyes widened at the mention of the name, her pale face tightening in confusion. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Elorie clenched her fists, pushing forward despite the growing knot of dread in her chest. “Have you never thought about it?” she demanded. “Really thought about it? Because I have. And what are the odds, Emmeline? What are the odds that my mother, out of all her friends, would just happen to pick Jenna Sommers—someone connected to Mystic Falls? A regular person. She’s supposed to be a super powerful witch isn’t she? So if she can’t protect me why did she pick Jenna? What are the odds that I would be drawn to that place, the same place where Esther was buried?”

Emmeline was silent, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. The weight of Elorie’s accusation hung heavy in the air, suffocating them both.

“What if,” Elorie continued, her voice dropping into a dark whisper, “my entire lives—all of them—have been primed for this? What if we’ve been caught in Esther’s plan from the very beginning?” She gestured toward the door at the center of the rot, the one that had always seemed unreachable. “What if, in that life—the life—we met Esther? What if she did something to us, set this whole thing in motion?”

The silence between them deepened, the oppressive tension thickening with each passing second. Emmeline’s face had gone pale, the realization slowly dawning in her eyes. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Elorie’s words were unraveling something—something they had both been too scared to confront.

Elorie’s voice grew stronger as she continued, each word sharper than the last. “In every single one of our lives, we’ve all been through Virginia. Through Mystic Falls. At some point, every time. What are the odds of that? Something kept calling us there, but we left. Every time, something felt off, something always felt wrong, and we didn’t know why. What if it’s because Esther had already tied us to her?”

Emmeline’s lips trembled, but she stayed silent, her wide eyes fixed on the door at the center of the rot.

Elorie swallowed hard, her throat dry as the weight of her own theory pressed down on her. “What if we are Esther’s long-term plan? What if we were meant to bring her back? Her way of returning to life, slowly preparing us, life after life, until the right moment came?”

The silence that followed was unbearable, thick with the kind of realization that neither woman wanted to confront. Emmeline’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, her eyes locked on the rotting door, and Elorie could see the fear creeping into her expression.

Then, finally, Emmeline laughed—a hollow, nervous sound that echoed through the manor, but there was no humor in it. “You sound insane, Elorie,” she said, shaking her head weakly. “Like you’ve lost your mind.”

But Elorie didn’t laugh. She didn’t waver. Her jaw tightened, her gaze fixed on Emmeline, the raw intensity in her eyes burning through the other woman’s denial. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice like steel. “Or maybe I’m the only one finally seeing the truth.”

Elorie pushed forward, her steps slow but unyielding as she continued toward the rotting door, her heart pounding in her chest. Emmeline’s voice rose behind her, protesting, pleading, but Elorie tuned her out. The air around the door grew thicker, more oppressive, as if it were trying to suffocate her, to force her back. It clung to her lungs like smoke, choking her, and every instinct screamed at her to stop, to turn around. But she wouldn’t.

Then, she felt it—something—like a warm hand slipping into hers, steady and reassuring. Her body burned, not with pain, but with a strange, fierce heat, as though her very essence was on fire, burning away the rot that tried to cling to her. It wasn’t just magic—it was protection. It felt like Ellie, guiding her forward, shielding her from the darkness that wrapped around the door like tendrils, trying to pull her under.

Just as she reached out, the door behind her flew open with a loud crash, and Klaus stormed into the room. His face was a mix of frustration and panic, and his voice cut through the suffocating atmosphere like a blade.

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted, his eyes locking onto her. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Because that’s what’s happening right now. Your body in the real world is crashing. Again.”

His words echoed in her mind, but Elorie didn’t stop, didn’t turn around. “Again,” she repeated, as if the notion of her body failing had become an afterthought, something distant.

Klaus moved closer, his urgency palpable. “Elorie, come back from the door! We have a plan. The witch—Valerie, you know Valerie—we got a spell to her, a banishment spell to sever the bond between you and Esther. But it’ll be useless if you die in here.”

Elorie hesitated for just a moment, Klaus’s voice cutting through the haze of her resolve. But then, she felt it again—a small squeeze on her hand. Ellie. The warmth spread through her, and it was as though her younger self was whispering to her, telling her that this was the right path. That this door, this moment, held the answers she needed.

Her breath hitched, and her resolve hardened once more. She turned back to the door, ignoring Klaus’s frantic voice as he continued to shout behind her. One step, then another. The darkness around her screamed, the rot pulsed with every beat of her heart, trying to pull her back into the suffocating void. But she kept moving.

Elorie’s lips began to move almost instinctively, the words of a fire spell flowing from her without hesitation. How did she even know this spell? It didn’t matter. Ellie. It was Ellie, her younger self, guiding her, protecting her. The heat intensified as the rot began to burn away beneath her hand, clearing a path, revealing what had been hidden for so long.

The surface of the door, once covered in black decay, now shone faintly, and the words etched into the wood became clear.

Hrist.

0908.

Just like Klaus had found.

Hrist was old.

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat. The name, the date—it was ancient, far older than any life she had remembered. Far older than she had even imagined herself to be.

She barely had time to process the weight of it, the sudden realization of just how long she had been here, living and dying, repeating this cycle. She was old.

But before she could fully absorb it, her hand came into contact with the wood of the door. A surge of power rushed through her, hot and overwhelming, like fire roaring to life in her veins. It was as though the door had been waiting for this moment—for her touch, for her to uncover the truth.

The air around her seemed to vibrate, the darkness roaring louder, and she could feel the bond, the tether, to something far greater than herself. This wasn’t just Esther. This was something older, something deeper, and it had been binding her for far longer than she had ever realized.

The door groaned under her hand, creaking open as though it had been sealed for centuries, the rot falling away entirely.

Behind her, Klaus’s voice became distant, almost drowned out by the rush of magic that surged through her, and in that moment, she knew she had crossed a line—a point of no return.

Elorie blinked, her vision swimming as the forest materialized around her. It was disorienting—she shouldn’t have been here. This place, this memory, felt too real. Her heart raced, her body tense as she crouched in the underbrush, peering over the thick greenery. Just ahead, a scene unfolded that sent a chill down her spine.

Two men were wrestling another to the ground, restraining him, tying him up with ropes that cut into his skin. One of the men was younger, his face filled with rage and desperation. The other, older and larger, looked cold and unyielding. A woman stood a short distance away, chanting under her breath, her hands moving in precise, deliberate motions as if casting some kind of spell. There was a body on the ground, lifeless and crumpled at her feet, and in the woman’s hand, she held something—an object that glinted in the faint light of the forest.

Elorie’s breath caught in her throat. She needed to get closer.

As she inched forward, her mind struggled to catch up with what she was seeing. The woman’s chanting grew louder, her movements more frantic, and the man being restrained—he howled in pain, collapsing to the ground as if the spell had torn through him. She moved even closer, her heart pounding as the pieces began to fall into place.

That man…

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Was that… Klaus?

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. The man on the ground, fighting against the ropes that bound him—it was Klaus, the same man who had stormed into her hospital room hours, maybe days ago. Time was distorted here, but it didn’t matter. He was here. In a past life, she had known him.

What were the goddamn odds?

Her gaze shifted to the woman, still chanting, her face partially hidden by the shadows of the trees. But now Elorie could see her clearly, and her blood ran cold. Esther.

Of course it was Esther. This scene, this spell—it was all connected to her.

The older man, the one holding Klaus down, suddenly looked up, his sharp eyes locking onto Elorie’s hiding spot. He growled, his voice cold and menacing. “What are you doing here?”

Before Elorie could react, before she could fully process the danger, the other man—Klaus’s father, she realized with a sickening lurch—yelled out, “Father, no!”

But it was too late.

In the blink of an eye, the older man was in front of her, faster than she could comprehend. She barely had time to gasp before he plunged a knife into her stomach. Pain exploded through her body, sharp and unbearable, and she coughed up blood, her vision going blurry.

What the hell…?

She doubled over, blood dripping from her lips, as the man leaned down, his cold voice slicing through her shock. “You had no business being here.”

Everything was a blur after that. The woman—Esther—rushed over to her, her face streaked with tears, her voice breaking as she sobbed. “Hrist… oh, Hrist,” she cried, her hands trembling as she brushed Elorie’s face, trying to stop the bleeding. “He promised he wouldn’t hurt you!”

Hrist. That name again. The name on the door. The name she now understood as her own in this life. But it didn’t feel like her name—it felt like a stranger’s. Elorie could barely think, her body screaming in pain as the man—Klaus’s father—pulled the knife from her stomach, letting her crumple to the ground.

Esther was at her side, frantic, whispering apologies, her hands trying desperately to stop the flow of blood. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, her face inches from Elorie’s. “I didn’t want this.”

Elorie’s vision blurred, her mind clouded with pain and confusion. What is happening? This felt like a dream, a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. But the pain was real. She was dying.

Esther’s fingers brushed against her forehead, drawing some kind of symbol in her blood. Elorie’s head swam as she tried to make sense of it, her body too weak to protest.

“I can’t make you immortal,” Esther whispered, her voice shaky but resolute. “I can’t defy nature by making more… monsters.” Her words were bitter, filled with regret. “But I can twist it. Just a little. This will be my gift to you.”

Gift?

Elorie coughed, more blood spilling from her lips. She wanted to scream, to fight, to tell Esther to stop. But she couldn’t. Her body was betraying her, slipping away with every passing second.

Esther’s voice became softer, more intense as she spoke. “When you come back, Hrist…you must find” the words gargled. “Find me Hrist.”

The words hung in the air, and Elorie’s heart raced. Reincarnation. That was the spell. This was the first one. The first spell that had trapped her in this endless loop, life after life, forcing her to return, bound by a promise she hadn’t even made.

Esther’s hands moved faster now, the magic crackling in the air around them. And then the spell was cast, searing through her, binding her to this curse. To Esther’s plan.

The forest began to fade, the pain slipping into numbness, as the darkness swallowed her whole.

This was how it began. This was how she had been trapped, bound to return, over and over again.

And it was Esther who had set it all in motion.

Elorie’s teeth clenched so hard they hurt, her entire body trembling with rage as the forest faded and she found herself back at the door. White-hot fury surged through her veins, hotter than any magic she had ever wielded. How much of this did Diana know? How much had her mother, had the entire Anders family been complicit in, had she been part of this twisted plan all along? She had never stood a chance. This was never just about protection—this had been a manipulation from the start, spanning lifetimes.

"Elorie, stop!"

The voice cut through her fury like ice water, and she blinked, momentarily disoriented. When had Klaus gotten so close? He was standing right beside her, his hand gripping hers, his blue eyes filled with a mix of urgency and concern.

He repeated himself, his voice softer but just as commanding. “You have to stop.”

Elorie shook her head violently, her pulse racing. “No,” she hissed, the anger burning through her chest like fire. “I will not stop until I burn every single part of your mother from my mind.” Her voice cracked with the weight of the fury bubbling inside her. Every part of her was screaming for release—for destruction.

Klaus’s grip on her hand tightened as he held her gaze. “You don’t have enough magic,” he reminded her, his voice steady, but there was something pleading in his eyes.

She looked down at his hand, holding hers, and back up at him. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her mind spiraling. She could feel the magic surging inside her, but it wasn’t enough. Not to break this curse. Not to destroy Esther’s hold.

But Klaus had magic. A lot of it.

“Then help me,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her eyes locked on his. “Let me… pull the magic from you.”

Klaus’s eyes widened in shock, and for a split second, there was disbelief etched across his face. “Are you insane?” he asked, his voice rising, his grip tightening around her hand as if he could stop her by sheer force of will.

Elorie’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

And then, before Klaus could stop her, she reached deep into the connection between them and pulled.

This was different than just ejecting Klaus from her mind, this was intoxicating.

A rush of power surged through her like a tidal wave, wild and unyielding. Klaus shouted, but she barely heard him. The flames ignited in her chest, blooming out of her like a wildfire, white-hot and ferocious. The rot around the door—Hrist’s door—began to burn away, the dark tendrils that had clung to her soul for lifetimes dissolving into ash.

The magic spiraled out of her, uncontrollable, fierce. The fungus that had grown over the other doors in the covenstead erupted into flames, the searing heat spreading across the entire space. White-hot flames licked the walls, burning away the rot, cleansing the decay that had been festering for so long. It was all-consuming, primal. The fire in her chest pulsed with every heartbeat, brighter and hotter, and she knew—this was it. This was the reckoning Esther had never expected.

Klaus’s hand was still in hers, but he was gritting his teeth, his jaw tight as he fought to keep control. “Elorie… enough—”

But she couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t. The flames spiraled higher, burning away the curse, the rot, everything that had bound her. She felt it all burning, the chains that Esther had placed on her, the magic that had tied her to this endless loop. It all began to unravel, melting in the heat of her fury.

The entire covenstead was consumed in the blaze, the flames swirling like a vortex, twisting and writhing as they devoured every trace of Esther’s influence.

Elorie could barely breathe, her vision blurring from the intensity of it all. She wasn’t just burning Esther’s magic—she was burning everything.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the flames started to flicker, weakening, the overwhelming surge of magic ebbing away as she reached her limit. The last of the rot crumbled to dust at her feet, and the searing heat began to cool, leaving only embers in its wake.

Elorie gasped, her body trembling, her hand still clutched in Klaus’s. She looked up at him, her vision swimming. His expression was strained, but there was something else there—a mixture of concern and, perhaps, admiration.

The door to Hrist’s life stood before her, no longer covered in rot. It was clear, unmarked by the darkness that had once consumed it.

But as the reality of what she had done settled in, so did the exhaustion. Her body felt like it had been drained completely, her limbs heavy, her breathing ragged.

Klaus stepped forward, his voice low but steady. “You nearly killed yourself,” he said, his grip still firm on her hand, but there was no anger in his voice—only relief.

Elorie gave him a tired, shaky smile, her voice barely a whisper. “But I didn’t.”

And for the first time, she felt like she had control. Real, tangible control over her fate.

The curse had cracked.

The magic spiraled, uncontrolled and feral, ripping through her like a live wire. Elorie couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe. Fire roared, licking at the covenstead’s walls, devouring the rot, the doors, the space itself. She was burning, everything inside her unraveling into searing heat and light.

She tried to focus, tried to hold onto something, anything. But the world kept slipping.

Flames. Heat. A vortex of destruction. And then—

Something else.

Her vision fractured, sharp and jagged, and suddenly she wasn’t in the covenstead anymore.

A boy and a girl. Laughter, faint but familiar.

The boy smiled—Klaus? He looked different, younger, his sharp edges softened by a carefree expression she had never seen before. His hair was lighter in the sunlight, his grin wide and genuine.

The girl beside him… Hrist. Her laughter was bright, her hands full of wildflowers as she wove them into a crown. Klaus bent his head, letting her place it carefully on him, his eyes full of something that made Elorie’s chest ache.

Firelight.

A bonfire blazed in the center of a clearing. Hrist, older now, danced in the flickering glow, her movements fluid and hypnotic. Klaus watched her, his gaze intense, unguarded.

Elorie felt the heat of the fire, heard the crackling of the wood. The sounds blurred, distant and disjointed, as if she were underwater.

Klaus stepped forward, pulling something from his pocket. A ring? No, a simple band of braided grass. He knelt in the firelight, his voice lost in the roar of the flames, but the look on Hrist’s face was clear.

Shock. Joy. Something unnameable.

Back to the covenstead.

Elorie gasped, her body jerking as she tried to ground herself. The fire still raged, and she was burning with it, the heat pressing down on her like a physical weight.

She tried to breathe, tried to focus, but the magic dragged her under again.

The clearing.

Klaus again, but not alone. Another man stood beside him, taller, broader, with dark hair and piercing eyes. Elorie felt the tension between them, sharp and bitter, though she couldn’t understand why.

A girl lay on the ground, her throat slick with blood, her eyes wide and lifeless.

Elorie’s heart pounded as the scene blurred and shifted, her vision spinning wildly. The girl—she knew her. Her face hovered on the edges of Elorie’s mind, burned into her memory like a brand, but she couldn’t quite grasp it.

Who is she?

Klaus didn't want her to see it. 

The question tore at her, desperate and consuming. She reached out, her fingers trembling, trying to touch the memory, to pull it closer.

Darkness.

Silence.

Elorie floated in the void, weightless and untethered. The memories swirled around her, fragmented and incomplete, slipping through her fingers like water.

Her chest ached, the absence of air suffocating, but the fire was gone.

“Klaus,” she whispered, her voice barely audible even to herself.

Back to the covenstead.

The flames were dying now, the heat fading into embers. Her body was heavy, too heavy, but her eyes fluttered open.

Klaus was there, his hand still gripping hers, his face pale and strained. She could feel the tension radiating off him, his usual smirk replaced by something grim and hollow.

Elorie tried to speak, but her throat was raw, her body trembling. She nodded faintly, her gaze drifting to the door in front of her.

Hrist’s door.

The rot was gone. The wood was clear, unmarred as if it had never been touched by decay.

She had done it.

But the girl’s face—she still didn’t see it. 

The thought burned at the edges of her mind, even as the darkness pulled her under once more.

Chapter Text

When Elorie awoke, the first sensation that hit her was the overwhelming feeling of suffocation. Her eyes snapped open, wide with panic. There was something in her mouth—a tube. Instinctively, her body tensed, and she struggled against it, her breath quickening as fear clawed at her. But she forced herself to slow down, to take in deep, controlled breaths. It wasn’t easy, but after a few moments, the wave of panic began to subside.

She tried to calm her racing heart, blinking as her vision cleared. The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor anchored her to reality, grounding her enough to still her movements. She blinked, her vision clearing as she registered the stark hospital room around her. Klaus sat beside her, his intense blue eyes locked on hers, his expression unreadable.

She panicked, yanking her hand back as she realized—he was holding it.

“Easy, love,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, his fingers brushing over the back of her hand. “You’ve had quite the ordeal. Let’s not make it worse, hmm?”

Elorie’s eyes narrowed, glaring at him as best she could despite the discomfort of the tube in her throat. She tried to move her mouth, to say something—anything—but the damn tube made it impossible. Her glare deepened as Klaus’s smirk widened, his amusement evident.

Jenna’s head snapped up, her tear-streaked face lighting up with a mixture of hope and overwhelming worry. “Elorie!” she gasped, gripping her hand tightly. “Oh, thank God! You’re okay.”

Elorie’s lips parted, but her throat was raw, and no sound came out. Jenna leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair from Elorie’s damp forehead. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t try to talk yet. You’ve been through a lot.”

Klaus’s hand remained steady on hers, his expression softening marginally as he glanced at Jenna. “She’s stronger than she looks,” he said, almost casually, his tone carrying an undercurrent of respect. “Though, perhaps not wise enough to avoid trouble.”

Jenna shot him a sharp look, her voice laced with irritation. “Now isn’t the time, Klaus. She needs rest, not your commentary.”

Klaus chuckled, low and soft, releasing Elorie’s hand to lean back in his chair. “Of course, dearest Jenna. I’ll restrain myself.”

Elorie’s gaze flicked between them, her mind racing to catch up. She recognized Jenna’s fierce protectiveness, but Klaus’s presence unnerved her. His charm was laced with danger, his smirk never quite reaching his eyes.

“You’re safe now, Elorie,” Jenna said softly, her hands cradling her face. “That’s all that matters. Just focus on getting better.”

Elorie blinked slowly, exhaustion creeping over her like a heavy fog. The sound of the heart monitor, the warmth of Jenna’s touch, and the solid, unyielding presence of Klaus beside her became a strange, grounding force. Her body relaxed slightly, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep pulled her under once more.

Klaus watched her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he stood, straightening his jacket with a sharp tug. "She’ll be fine," he said simply, his tone dismissive but not unkind.

As he turned to leave, Enzo appeared in the doorway, his usual swagger absent. He stepped aside to let Klaus pass but stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Thank you," Enzo said quietly, his voice earnest. Before Klaus could react, Enzo pulled him into a brief, firm hug.

Klaus stiffened, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air for a moment before patting Enzo’s back twice, more out of obligation than comfort. When they parted, his bewilderment was evident, though he quickly masked it with a smirk. "Don’t get sentimental, mate," he drawled, brushing off his sleeve as if the hug had left a mark. He glanced at Jenna briefly before stepping out of the room, his presence lingering even after he was gone.

A few days had passed since Elorie’s dramatic awakening. The tubes had been removed from her throat, and she was slowly getting used to speaking again. Her voice was hoarse, her words measured, but she relished the ability to talk once more.

Enzo hovered near her bed, a perpetual frown on his face as he fussed over her. "You need to take it slow," he chided, placing a glass of water on the bedside table. "I don’t care how restless you feel, you’re not rushing this recovery."

Elorie rolled her eyes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "You’re worse than Jenna," she rasped, though the affection in her tone was unmistakable.

Jenna, meanwhile, stood in the hallway, her voice a low murmur as she spoke on the phone. The tension in her shoulders was visible even from where Elorie lay. When Jenna finally returned to the room, her face was pale and drawn, exhaustion etched into every line.

Enzo noticed immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone sharp with concern.

Jenna sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Miranda and Elena. They’ve been at it again."

Enzo raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

Jenna sank into the chair beside Elorie’s bed, her posture slumped. "Elena’s been sneaking out to parties on school nights. Miranda caught her, and they had another blowout. I was trying to play peacemaker, but..."

She trailed off, shaking her head. "It’s like talking to a brick wall with those two. Elena’s stubborn, and Miranda’s… well, she’s Miranda."

Elorie’s brow furrowed. "Elena?" she asked, her voice scratchy. "Why is she sneaking out?"

Jenna shrugged, her exhaustion evident. "Probably trying to blow off steam. She’s been under so much pressure lately, and this is her way of rebelling."

Enzo crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "Teenagers," he muttered, though there was no malice in his tone. "Seems like there’s never a dull moment in this town."

Elorie gave a weak chuckle, though it turned into a cough. Enzo was by her side in an instant, handing her the glass of water. As she sipped it, Jenna’s expression softened, the worry in her eyes replaced by a hint of gratitude.

"We’ll get through this," Jenna said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. "We always do."

The door to the room swung open with an exaggerated flourish, revealing Damon Salvatore holding a cluster of purple balloons in one hand, a gift bag in the other, and balancing a box that smelled distinctly of donuts under his arm.

"And look who’s everyone’s favorite visitor!" Damon declared with a wide grin as he strode into the room. The balloons bobbed in the air behind him, practically filling the small space.

Elorie blinked in surprise. "Uh, that's all for me??"

Enzo groaned. "What on earth did you do? Rob the gift shop?"

Damon smirked, dropping the balloons at the foot of Elorie’s bed. "Oh, these? You asked for balloons, mate. Didn’t say how many. Pretty sure there’s not a single one left downstairs."

Enzo shook his head, muttering something under his breath, but Damon ignored him, setting the box of donuts on the small table. "Breakfast, anyone?"

Jenna took one, smiling faintly as she handed another to Enzo, who reluctantly accepted. Meanwhile, Damon turned his attention back to Elorie, holding out the gift bag with a dramatic flourish. "For you."

Elorie raised an eyebrow as she accepted the bag. "What’s this?"

Damon leaned closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ran into Klaus in the lobby. He said it’s for you."

Enzo, mid-bite, nearly choked on his donut. "Klaus?"

Ignoring Enzo’s outburst, Elorie opened the bag. Inside was an old, weathered leather journal and a delicate bracelet. Her fingers brushed the worn cover of the journal, her eyes narrowing in recognition. She quickly set it aside, holding up the bracelet instead.

"Guess he wants me to start journaling my thoughts," she quipped, feigning indifference. "But this?" She held up the bracelet with a faint smirk. "At least he has good taste."

Damon chuckled, leaning against the wall. "Points to Klaus for style, if nothing else."

Enzo muttered something unintelligible as Elorie slipped the bracelet onto her wrist. The room felt lighter, though the weight of Klaus’s gift lingered unspoken between them.

The room was still, save for the occasional beeping of the heart monitor and the muted hum of the hallway beyond the door. Elorie sat upright in the hospital bed, her hands resting on her lap. The journal Klaus had given her sat next to her, its weathered leather cover catching the dim light. Her fingers hovered over the embossed initials, "H.A.," tracing them lightly before she pulled her hand away as though burned.

She grit her teeth, her irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Klaus had been avoiding her. Since that initial moment in the room, he had vanished, leaving her to stew in the aftermath of her recovery and his cryptic gift.

She wanted answers—needed them. What had she seen? In her head, in his? How much did he know about her, about what she was? Her fingers tightened around the edge of the journal, a scowl crossing her face.

The bracelet, delicate and cool against her wrist, glinted faintly as she shifted her hand. She couldn’t deny its beauty, nor could she ignore its weight. It was more than a gift. It was a message, though one she hadn’t yet deciphered.

She exhaled sharply, letting the journal slip from her grasp to the side of the bed. The hospital room, usually teeming with Jenna’s fussing or Enzo’s protective banter, was eerily quiet. They had checked into a nearby hotel for the night, insisting she needed rest without their constant presence. For the first time in days, she was alone.

Her gaze drifted back to the journal. "You won't talk to me," she muttered under her breath, her lips curling into a faint, annoyed smile. "But you'll give me Hrist's journal. Make it make sense."

The sound of the window creaking open drew her attention, and she turned sharply. Klaus slipped in with the grace of a predator, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Hello love,”

She looked up narrowing her gaze, and crossing her arms. “You know most guys bring flowers when they sneak into your room.”

Klaus smirked, his usual air of detached confidence infuriating as he perched on the windowsill, arms crossed over his chest. “Flowers are overrated,” he replied smoothly, his accent curling around the words like silk. “Besides, I didn’t think you were the roses and chocolates type.”

Elorie rolled her eyes, leaning back against the pillows. “And what type do you think I am, Klaus? The ominous bracelet type?”

His grin widened, and he hopped down, his boots making no sound against the cold tile floor. “You make it sound so unromantic. I thought you’d appreciate a little mystery.” He strolled toward her, his gaze lingering on the journal lying by her side. “Besides, I see you’ve already been bonding with my little gift.”

“Yes, the musing of my long dead ancestor,” she replied searching his face for any recognition. He gave her nothing. “Does this mean you’re ready to talk about what we saw?”

“You’re not ready for all the answers,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “But Hrist’s journal will help. It’ll explain things in a way I can’t.”

Klaus smirked, stepping further into the room. He leaned casually against the window frame, his arms crossed as silence settled between them. His gaze drifted to the journal on the bed, and his expression flickered for just a moment—something unreadable passing over his face.

"I don’t fully understand yet," Klaus admitted, his voice low but steady. "What my mother may have wanted with you. Or your connection to your long-dead ancestor. But I figured the journal might help you piece it together."

Elorie turned the journal over in her hands, the worn leather smooth beneath her fingertips. "So this is supposed to be my lightbulb moment?"

Klaus shrugged, his smirk fading into something more contemplative. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s just another piece of the puzzle."

Elorie sighed, her fingers brushing over the initials again. "That’s two favors I owe you now," she said, her tone softer but pointed.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking. "Two?"

She nodded. "For your help with Esther. And now, the journal."

He waved her off with a dismissive gesture, but his smirk softened. "Don’t mention it."

Elorie shook her head, her tone gentle but deliberate. "No. I mean it. I saw... what they did to you." Her voice dropped, cautious yet steady. "I know you’re looking for something."

Klaus’s posture stiffened, his smirk vanishing as tension radiated from him. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

Elorie leaned forward slightly, her gaze unwavering. "I saw enough. You’re searching for something, the moonstone, and I want to help."

He scoffed, his eyes flicking toward the window. "I have stronger, more experienced witches for that."

Elorie narrowed her eyes, her tone sharpening. "You might. But I may have a bit more luck."

Klaus turned back to her, the faintest hint of intrigue glinting in his eyes. "And how do you figure that?"

Elorie’s gaze drifted past him, out the window to the faint glow of the town below. Her voice softened, as if the answer was just out of reach. "I don’t know. It’s just a feeling."

Klaus let out a low laugh, the sound rich and layered with amusement. "A feeling, is it? Fine. Do whatever you want, love.”

As Klaus turned toward the window, Elorie cleared her throat, stopping him. "Wait," she said, her voice cutting through the stillness. "How do I contact you?"

Klaus turned back to her, his smirk returning. "Confident, are we?"

Elorie rolled her eyes. "I’m serious. If I find something, I need to let you know."

He studied her for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. Walking over to the small bedside table, he opened the drawer, pulling out a notepad and pen. With a deliberate slowness, he scribbled down a number, tearing the paper free with a sharp tug. He handed it to her, leaning far closer than necessary.

Elorie froze. He smelled like vanilla and chocolate, a faint trace of wood smoke mixed in. The scent reminded her of sitting by a campfire, making s’mores under the stars. It was warm, familiar, and utterly overwhelming. She gripped the paper, suddenly very aware of how close he was.

"Feel free to text me," Klaus murmured, his voice low and smooth, "should you be lucky enough to come across the moonstone. Just try not to get yourself killed."

His breath brushed against her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine. Before she could gather her thoughts, he straightened, stepping back toward the window. His movements were as fluid as ever, his confidence radiating in every step.

Elorie stared at the paper in her hand, her mind muddled and her chest tight. What the hell was she doing? She didn’t even know if she trusted him. But somehow, that didn’t seem to matter.

"You act like you’re not going to be around to save me," she shot back lightly.

His smirk returned, sharp as ever. "We’ll see," he murmured. With a final glance back, Klaus smirked. "Good luck, love," he said before slipping out the window as easily as he had entered.

Elorie sank back against her pillows, the faint scent of him lingering in the room. Her fingers tightened around the paper. She was breathless, frustrated, and undeniably intrigued.

The days following her awakening blurred into a series of quiet moments and gentle distractions. Elorie was never alone—Jenna, Enzo, and Damon made sure of that, taking turns by her bedside, each with their own way of showing care.

Jenna arrived every morning with a stack of books in hand, alternating between reading aloud and leaving them within Elorie’s reach. Her voice was soft, but Elorie could feel the tension beneath her every word. Whenever Jenna thought Elorie wasn’t looking, her gaze would flicker over her like a mother checking for signs of life, her worry almost palpable.

Elorie spent most of her time trying to ease that worry, forcing smiles and assurances. “I’m fine, Mom,” she’d say, even when her limbs trembled from the simple act of sitting up. But her reassurances didn’t seem to penetrate Jenna’s hovering. She stayed close, her hand brushing Elorie’s cheek or straightening her blankets, as though afraid she might vanish if she let go.

Enzo’s visits brought lightness to the room. He came armed with plush toys and balloons that seemed comically out of place, their cheerful colors standing stark against the sterile hospital backdrop. “To liven the place up,” he’d say with a grin, setting them beside her bed. He’d also sneak in snacks—flaky pastries, rich chocolates, and once, a perfectly cooked roast sandwich that had the nurses throwing disapproving glances his way.

“You’ll spoil me,” Elorie teased weakly as he handed her a plate.

“Someone has to,” Enzo replied, a flicker of relief crossing his face at her attempt at humor. Still, she could see the worry he tried to hide, buried beneath his soft jokes and careful smiles.

Damon was the wild card of the trio. He swept into the room each evening with a pack of cards in hand, plopping himself into the chair beside her bed. “Time to learn a life skill,” he declared, shuffling the cards with practiced ease.

“What life skill?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Poker,” he said, smirking. “If you’re going to cheat death, you should at least know how to hustle someone out of their dessert.”

The games quickly became a nightly ritual, with Damon raising the stakes by betting on her Jello cups. Sometimes Enzo and Nia would join them. Taking turns keeping her amused while Jenna worked. But she mainly enjoyed the time spent with Damon. “Winner takes all,” he’d say, sliding his cards onto the bed tray with a theatrical flourish. Elorie laughed despite herself, the absurdity of it all pulling her mind away from the heaviness that lingered in the room.

Still, not all the company was welcome. Maddox kept his distance, giving her a wide berth as though afraid she might explode. Nia spent most of her time with him, a development Damon casually explained one afternoon. “Apparently, he’s a wealth of witchy knowledge and they’ve become besties,” he said, dealing out another hand.

Elorie rolled her eyes but couldn’t ignore the absence of the one person who hadn’t visited her at all. Klaus.

Whenever she asked about him, her questions were met with evasive answers. Jenna would frown, pretending not to hear. Enzo would shrug, his expression unreadable, and Damon would wave the topic away with a snort. “You’re better off not thinking about him,” he said once. “He’s like a bad penny—you never know when he’ll show up, but you’re guaranteed to regret it.”

Despite their efforts to dodge the subject, the absence gnawed at Elorie. Klaus’s presence had been a constant in her awakening, his hand holding hers when she first opened her eyes. But now, it was as though he’d vanished, and the silence surrounding him only deepened her unease.

But at night, once she was finally alone in her room, with nothing but her thoughts, the soft beeping of monitors and the faint scent of antiseptic forming the backdrop to her solitude. She lay propped up against the stiff pillows of her hospital bed. In her lap rested Hrist’s journal, its cracked leather cover as worn and weathered as the thoughts it contained. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, their cold glow illuminating the pages she had just begun to explore. Though she tried to adjust to her surroundings, the sterile environment only seemed to amplify the vivid emotions pouring from the journal.

She traced her fingers over the inked words, the handwriting uneven in places, as if rushed or driven by emotion. She had spent days pouring over every single word, every sentence, Hrist had been obsessive, her thoughts raw and consuming. Elorie wasn’t sure what she had expected—perhaps distant recollections of events long past. Instead, what she found felt like the fevered confessions of a girl caught up in the chaos of her heart.

Klaus is... everything. He is the sun and the shadow. He can make you feel like the center of his world one moment and leave you wondering if you ever mattered the next.

Elorie’s hand trembled slightly as she read. The words were striking, but they left her uneasy. She couldn’t reconcile them with the fragmented glimpses she’d seen in Klaus’s mind. Yet, Hrist’s observations painted him not just as a force of nature but as the fixation of a love-stricken girl.

It wasn’t just Klaus, though. Hrist had captured the entire family in sharp, emotional detail. She seemed to have an affinity for Elijah, describing him with a warmth that felt almost like admiration.

Elijah is the perfect older brother. He’s calm, patient, and so good at hiding the cracks. But sometimes, I wonder if he’s tired of holding everyone together. Does he ever wish someone would hold him instead? I hope one day he finds someone to love him the way her deserves.

Elorie felt a pang of recognition as she read. Elijah’s quiet strength, his eternal patience—she’d seen glimpses of it in Klaus’s memories, but it was through Hrist’s words that she truly understood it. Yet, despite Elijah’s virtues, Elorie found herself drawn more to Rebekah. Hrist had described her with less reverence but equal depth:

Rebekah just wants to be loved. She’s so desperate for it that she’ll destroy anyone who gets in the way. Sometimes, I envy her fire. Sometimes, I’m scared of it.

Elorie couldn’t help but admire Rebekah’s audacity, her fierce determination to claim happiness in a life riddled with despair. Perhaps it was because she, too, had felt the sting of longing for a world just out of reach.

And then there was Kol. Hrist’s words about him were a mix of exasperation and affection.

Kol is like a stray cat—charming one second, clawing at you the next. He doesn’t let anyone too close, but sometimes, in his quieter moments, he’ll show you glimpses of who he really is. I just wish he’d let someone stay.

Elorie found herself smiling despite the gravity of the journal. She could picture Kol, his impish grin and restless energy, the kind of person who would light up a room just to distract from the shadows lurking within. It was strange, this feeling of familiarity with people she’d never met, as if Hrist’s words had brought them to life beside her.

But Finn… Finn was different. Hrist’s entries about him carried a weight that felt heavy even on the page.

Finn always looks like he’s carrying the end of the world on his shoulders. I think he hates us—maybe even himself. But he brings me books. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

Elorie’s chest tightened. She could almost feel the weight Finn carried, the quiet pain that Hrist had tried to capture. It was as though each sibling had carved a piece of their soul into the pages, their essence bleeding through the ink.

And yet, it was Klaus who dominated the journal. Hrist’s words about him were laced with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

Klaus isn’t just a person. He’s a storm. He can tear you apart or make you feel alive in ways you didn’t know were possible. I can’t decide if I love him or if I’m afraid of him—maybe it’s both. I hate myself for always going back, but how do you walk away from someone who feels like your entire world?

Elorie closed the journal, her hands trembling. The stark hospital lights seemed too bright, too harsh against the emotional weight she carried. She leaned back into the pillows, the journal still clutched in her hands. Klaus seemed larger than life, but through Hrist’s eyes, he…his siblings they were human—flawed, fractured, and achingly real.

Elorie’s thoughts lingered on Klaus. Hrist had seen him as both a muse and a monster, a contradiction that defied explanation. And yet, wasn’t that the very thing that made him so captivating? Klaus’s mind had been a labyrinth of chaos and vulnerability, a reflection of the man Hrist had described with such haunting clarity.

A soft knock at the door startled her, pulling her from her reverie. A nurse peeked in, her voice gentle. “Elorie, you doing alright? Need anything?”

“I’m fine,” Elorie replied, her voice steadier than she felt. She tucked the journal to her side, offering a small smile. “Just reading.”

The nurse nodded. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said before retreating, leaving Elorie alone once more.

Elorie glanced back at the journal, her fingers brushing over its worn cover. There was too much to understand, too much that Hrist had left behind. She needed to speak to someone about this… anyone. She sat back, thinking. When she had reached into Klaus’ mind, that hadn’t been one of her gifts—she had pulled it from Daphne. So she wondered if she could do other things: pull on Hrist’s memories, summon Emmeline’s knowledge of magic.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She’d never tried something like that before, but what if it worked? What if she could tap into something beyond the journal—beyond herself? She closed her eyes, gripping the journal tightly as if it were an anchor. The air seemed to hum faintly around her, a whisper of energy stirring just beneath the surface of her awareness.

“Hrist,” she murmured softly, almost afraid to say the name aloud. “If you’re still out there… if there’s anything left of you… show me. Help me understand.”

The candle on her nightstand flickered, though there was no breeze. A chill crept over her, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. Elorie opened her eyes slowly, her breath catching as a faint glow seemed to emanate from the journal. Her heart raced, but she didn’t let go. Instead, she closed her eyes again, focusing on the thread of energy she could almost feel wrapping around her.

She pictured Hrist, the girl who had written these fevered words, and reached deeper into the connection she felt. She could almost hear a voice, faint and distant, like a melody carried on the wind.

Elorie…

Her eyes snapped open, her breath hitching. The voice had been real—hadn’t it? She looked around the room, but nothing had changed. The journal lay still in her lap, its glow faded. Yet something inside her had shifted, a tiny crack opening in the wall between her and whatever lingering remnants of Hrist’s memories might remain.

“I wonder if it’s possible,” Elorie whispered to herself, her resolve hardening. If she could touch Klaus’s mind and draw from Daphne, why not Hrist? Why not Emmeline? She would try. Not tonight, but soon. She needed answers, and if no one else could give them to her, she’d find them herself—even if it meant reaching into the shadows of the past.

Chapter Text

The hospital room was too quiet. Even with the occasional beep of the machines and the distant murmur of voices in the hall, the silence settled around Elorie like a weighted blanket she couldn’t shake off. She wasn’t in any immediate pain—just drained, as if something inside her had hollowed out, leaving only the shell of exhaustion behind.

Jenna sat by the window, her phone pressed to her ear, her fingers gripping the edge of the armrest like she was barely keeping herself grounded. Elorie could hear the sharp edge in Miranda’s voice, even though Jenna had angled her body slightly away, as if she could shield Elorie from the conversation.

“I told you I can’t home yet, Miranda," Jenna snapped, her voice low but tense.

A muffled reply came from the speaker—too low for Elorie to make out the words, but whatever Miranda had said made Jenna rub her forehead in frustration.

"God, you are impossible," Jenna muttered. "I am dealing with a lot right now, and you—No, you do not get to act like I’m being irrational. Grayson would’ve let her die. If I didn’t get her out of Mystic Falls she wouldn’t even be awake right now.”

Another sharp reply crackled through the phone, and Jenna let out a slow, controlled exhale—the kind she only did when she was on the edge of completely losing her patience.

Elorie shifted in bed, watching Jenna’s fingers tighten around the phone. "You okay?" she asked, her voice hoarse from sleep.

Jenna gave her a quick glance, her expression softening just a fraction before she turned away again. "I’m fine, El," she said, but her tone was clipped, betraying the lie.

Miranda's voice rose, clearer this time. "—Grayson was only trying to help. You know this hasn’t been easy on any of us. You and Elorie just left so suddenly for New York with some random man we’ve never heard of. Don’t you think you should be a lot more careful considering you have a daughter—“

“How dare you, Miranda?" Jenna cut in, her voice sharp with frustration. “You know what this is so exhausting to do. I think we need some space right now"

Elorie blinked. She had never heard Jenna snap at Miranda like that before.

There was a tense pause on the other end of the line.

"I know you’re mad," Miranda finally said, her voice tighter now, more controlled. "But you don’t get to talk to me like I’m the only problem here."

"Then stop making it feel like you are," Jenna shot back. "I need you to be present, Miranda. Right now. Because I am losing my goddamn mind over here, and I do not have the energy to deal with whatever war you and Grayson are fighting."

Another beat of silence. Then Grayson’s voice, muffled but unmistakably irritated: "Maybe if she actually listened instead of acting like she knows everything—"

"Tell him to shut up," Jenna said flatly, rubbing her temple.

Elorie let out a weak chuckle, which immediately turned into a cough. Jenna turned, her frustration morphing into immediate concern as she placed a hand on Elorie’s shoulder. "Easy," she murmured. "Just breathe, El. You need rest."

"I'm fine," Elorie managed, though her throat felt raw.

Jenna didn't look convinced. She turned back to the phone, her voice a notch softer but still edged. "Miranda, I can’t do this right now. I have Elorie to worry about. Whatever’s going on between you and Grayson, sort it out like adults, because I cannot be the middleman for you both."

Another pause, then Miranda let out a tired sigh. "Fine. I’ll call you later."

The call ended with a sharp beep, and Jenna immediately slumped back in her chair, exhaling like she had been holding her breath for hours.

Elorie gave her a knowing look. "That bad?"

Jenna let out a short, humorless laugh. "Worse. They’re both so caught up in their own pride that they can’t see how much they’re draining everyone around them."

Elorie hesitated, then asked, "Do you think they’ll ever stop fighting like this?"

Jenna leaned her head back against the chair, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. "I used to think so. Now? I don’t know."

Elorie let the silence stretch between them. There was something heavy about Jenna’s exhaustion, something deeper than just the stress of the past few days. It wasn’t just about Miranda and Grayson’s endless bickering—it was about the way Jenna was holding too much. Always holding too much.

“Mom…” Elorie said softly. "You don’t have to do everything alone."

Jenna’s lips curved in a tired smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yeah," she said, "I do."

Elorie didn’t push. She just reached out, her fingers brushing against Jenna’s arm in quiet reassurance.

The peace didn’t last long, Jenna was on the phone again when Elorie woke. She lay in the bed, with just the sound of Jenna’s voice and the heart monitor to keep her company.

Elorie could hear the tension in her voice, the sharp exhale as she paced just outside the room. The door was cracked open, letting in the low murmur of her words, punctuated by occasional pauses where Miranda's more clipped responses cut through the space.

"I don’t know what you want me to say, Miranda!" Jenna hissed. "Every time you call me, it’s the same thing. Grayson won’t listen, Elena’s acting out, and you’re exhausted. Yeah, well, so am I!"

Elorie didn’t have to see Jenna’s face to picture it—the furrowed brow, the tight grip on her phone, the way her free hand would be pressing against her hip, nails digging in just enough to ground herself.

"And what am I supposed to do from here?" Jenna continued, her frustration mounting. "You want me to come over there and knock some sense into them? Because I swear to God, Miranda, I—" She cut herself off, taking a deep breath before lowering her voice. "No, I didn’t mean that. I’m just—God, I don’t know. This isn’t working."

Elorie tilted her head slightly, listening harder, but before she could pick up more, a soft chuckle from across the room made her jolt.

Damon.

Leaning lazily against the chair beside her bed, a deck of cards in his hands, flipping through them like he had all the time in the world. His smirk was slow, knowing.

"Now, now, Ellie," he drawled. "Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?"

Elorie scowled, shifting under the blankets. "Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s creepy to sit there and watch people sleep?"

Damon placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. "Touché. But for the record, I wasn’t watching you sleep. I was just waiting for you to wake up. There’s a difference."

Elorie rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Damon set the deck of cards down on the bedside table, tapping a finger against it. "So, how about a game? Something to kill time while Aunt Jenna fights World War III over the phone?"

She hesitated, but there wasn’t much else to do. "Fine. What are we playing?"

"Something easy. Let’s go with Rummy."

He started dealing the cards between them, his movements fluid, practiced. They played in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the distant hum of the hospital and the occasional murmurs from Jenna’s conversation.

Then, just as she was about to lay down a set, Damon spoke, his tone almost casual.

"So, how much magic have you ever siphoned before?"

Elorie froze, fingers hovering over her cards.

She lifted an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression neutral. "That’s a weird question."

Damon shrugged, throwing down a card like he hadn’t just casually asked something so loaded. "Is it? You’ve got an interesting little talent there, Ellie. I was just wondering if you’ve ever pushed it. Like, really pushed it."

Elorie tilted her head, studying him. "Why do you care?"

Damon gave her an easy smirk. "Curiosity. What, am I not allowed to be curious?"

She tapped her fingers against her remaining cards, debating how much she wanted to engage in this conversation.

"I don’t know," she said finally, keeping her voice light. "Why don’t you tell me what you really want to ask?"

Damon leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Alright. Do you think you could siphon magic from a comet?"

Elorie blinked. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them.

"That’s… awfully specific," she said slowly.

Damon gave a one-shouldered shrug, pretending to be absorbed in his cards. "Just a thought experiment."

Elorie narrowed her eyes at him. "A thought experiment about me siphoning magic from something celestial?"

Damon grinned. "When you say it like that, it makes me sound suspicious."

"You are suspicious," she pointed out.

"And yet, you haven’t told me no."

She stared at him, then finally shook her head. "I have no idea," she admitted. "I don’t even know if that’s possible."

Damon hummed as if considering her answer, but before he could push the conversation further, the door swung open, and Enzo strode in, holding a bowl of fruit.

"Interrupting something?" he asked, his dark eyes flicking between them.

Damon shot him a lazy smirk. "Not at all. Just bonding with our little siphoner over card games and astronomy."

Elorie shot him a warning look, but Enzo, thankfully, didn’t take the bait. He simply handed the fruit bowl to her and sat down at the foot of the bed.

"You need to eat something," he said, nodding toward the bowl.

Elorie sighed, grabbing a slice of apple. "Are you my nurse now?"

Enzo smirked. "Just doing my part to make sure you don’t wither away."

Damon stretched, standing up from his chair. "Well, as fun as this has been, I’ll leave you two to it. Keep an open mind, Ellie. You never know what’s possible until you try."

With that, he strolled out, leaving Elorie staring after him, her mind still turning over the conversation.

A comet?

What the hell was he up to?

Enzo must have noticed the way she was staring at the door because he let out a small sigh. "Whatever Damon said, don’t take it too seriously. He likes messing with people."

Elorie looked at him, then back at her cards, before exhaling. "Yeah. I know."

But the thing was—Damon wasn’t just messing with her.

And that worried her.

Elorie watched as Damon sauntered out of the room, his parting words still ringing in her head. She knew better than to take him at face value, but something about the way he had asked—so casual, so offhand—made her uneasy.

A comet? What did he really mean by that?

She was still turning the thought over when Enzo, sitting comfortably at the foot of her bed, tilted his head slightly and studied her. "Alright," he said, voice light but edged with curiosity. "What was that about?"

Elorie forced herself to blink away the thoughts of Damon’s cryptic words and focused on Enzo instead. She met his gaze and gave him a half-shrug. "Damon was just asking about how my magic works," she said, keeping her voice as casual as possible.

Enzo’s expression didn’t change, but she knew him well enough by now to recognize the flicker of suspicion in his eyes. He exhaled through his nose and leaned back against the chair, arms crossing over his chest. "Be careful with him, El. Damon’s got a habit of pulling people into things before they realize they’re in too deep."

Elorie raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you mean like getting pulled into your weird schemes with Klaus instead?"

His jaw ticked slightly. "No," he said flatly. "You should definitely stay out of what Klaus and I are doing."

She narrowed her eyes. "Well, how am I supposed to stay out of it if I don’t even know what I’m staying away from?"

Enzo smirked, but it was tight, as if he appreciated her attempt but wasn’t about to budge. "Nice try." He picked up the fruit bowl and pushed it toward her. "Eat."

Elorie sighed dramatically before stabbing a strawberry with the fork. "You know," she said between bites, "it’s awfully unfair to expect me to stay out of trouble when I don’t even know what trouble looks like."

Enzo huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Stop fishing, El."

She chewed on her strawberry, considering him for a moment, then decided to switch tactics. Setting the fork down lightly, she tilted her head and asked, "So… where’s Klaus, anyway?"

She kept her voice even, but Enzo’s posture stiffened ever so slightly.

"He saved my life," she pointed out. "And he didn’t even come to check up on me. Bit rude, don’t you think?"

Enzo’s jaw clenched. He exhaled through his nose like he was counting backward from ten. "If you were smarter, you’d take that as a good sign," he muttered.

Elorie’s lips parted slightly in surprise at the sudden edge to his voice.

Enzo glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then added, "And don’t think I didn’t notice that wistful little look you gave him when you first woke up."

Her stomach dropped.

The blood rushed to her cheeks so fast she was sure she turned beet red on the spot. She grabbed the fork again and shoveled more fruit into her mouth, chewing furiously to avoid answering.

Enzo chuckled, the sound deep and knowing. "Thought so," he murmured.

Elorie swallowed and scowled at him, but he just smirked in that insufferable way he always did when he knew he was right.

She grabbed another strawberry and popped it into her mouth, looking anywhere but at him.

The door creaked open again, and Elorie looked up just as Jenna stepped inside, carrying a folder tucked under her arm. She moved slower than usual, and even before she sat down, Elorie could see the exhaustion hanging off her like a heavy coat.

There were dark circles under her eyes, her posture tense in that way that said she hadn’t been sleeping much—if at all.

Jenna set the folder on the side table next to Elorie’s bed with barely a glance at it.

Elorie eyed it warily. “I hope thats not what I think it is."

Jenna gave her a tired smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Missed assignments," she said, her voice light but lacking its usual teasing edge. "Figured you’d want to stay ahead."

Elorie let out a dramatic groan, flopping back onto the pillows. "Because obviously, schoolwork is exactly what I need while I’m recovering from almost dying."

"You’ll thank me later," Jenna murmured, sinking onto the couch across from the bench where Enzo still sat.

For a moment, Elorie just watched her. The way she rubbed at her temples like she was trying to push away a headache. The way she sat too stiffly, like she was holding everything in.

Something was wrong.

"Hey," Elorie said, more softly now. "You okay?"

Jenna exhaled, her fingers threading through her hair. "I was thinking about going home to Mystic Falls for a few days," she admitted. "Just to check in. Make sure Miranda’s okay."

Elorie’s stomach twisted.

"You're leaving?" she asked, sharper than she intended.

Jenna sighed. "Not for long. Just a few days. Things haven’t been improving and she could really use some support"

Elorie’s fingers curled into the blanket. "I haven’t even been discharged yet," she pointed out. "You’re really gonna leave me here alone?"

Jenna’s brow furrowed, her exhaustion shifting into frustration. "Elorie—"

"You always tell me I’m not in this alone," she interrupted, voice rising. "So why are you—"

"My family needs me," Jenna snapped.

The words hit like a physical blow.

Elorie flinched before she could stop herself, the breath catching in her throat.

Jenna didn’t mean it like that. She knew she didn’t.

But it didn’t matter.

Because for a moment—just a moment—Elorie wasn’t her kid. She wasn’t the daughter Jenna tucked in at night, the girl she fought to protect.

She was the other thing. The obligation.

Something in her locked up, that old, ugly insecurity curling around her ribs like a vice.

"Okay, okay," Enzo cut in, his voice carefully even as he sat forward. "Nobody meant that the way it sounded."

Jenna exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face. "El," she murmured, reaching toward her.

Elorie turned her head away.

Jenna’s face crumpled. "I didn’t mean it like that."

Enzo held up a hand, trying again. "Look, everyone is running on empty here. Maybe we all just take a breath before we say something we don’t mean."

But Elorie wasn’t breathing. Not properly.

And Jenna… Jenna just looked tired.

Finally, she sighed, letting her hand drop. "I’m just exhausted," she admitted, voice thin. "Maybe tonight I’ll just sleep at the hotel, clear my head a little."

Elorie swallowed against the lump in her throat and nodded. "Yeah. That’s probably a good idea."

The words came out steady, even though she felt anything but.

Enzo let out a slow exhale, glancing between them like he was trying to figure out if this was the best he was going to get.

Jenna hesitated, then stood, rubbing her temple. "I’ll be back in the morning."

Elorie nodded again.

Jenna lingered for just a second longer, like she wanted to say something else. In the end, she just sighed and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of Elorie’s head. "Get some rest, baby," she murmured.

Elorie closed her eyes, sinking into the warmth of it, even as something in her still ached.

Jenna left quietly.

The door shut behind her, and Enzo let out a slow, long breath, rubbing his hands together like he’d just been through a battlefield.

"Well," he muttered. "That was fun."

Elorie let out a hollow chuckle, but it didn’t hold any humor. She looked at the folder of assignments on the table, pretending she wasn’t thinking about how Jenna hadn’t really answered her question.

Pretending she wasn’t wondering if Jenna would actually come back.

Chapter Text

When Elorie woke up, the sterile scent of antiseptic and too-clean linens filled her nose. The hum of medical equipment buzzed softly in the background, and the faint beep of her heart monitor kept a steady rhythm. She exhaled slowly, blinking against the harsh fluorescent light filtering through the blinds. Right, she was still in New York. The hospital. She was growing tired of this. There was so much she wanted to do and being trapped here didn’t make it easier.

Enzo was there.

He sat in the chair by the window, one leg propped over the other, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he wasn’t actually sleeping. There was a stiffness in his posture, the kind of alertness that meant he was listening, waiting.

She shifted under the covers, wincing slightly as her body protested the movement. Enzo’s eyes flickered open immediately.

“Morning,” he said, voice even.

Elorie groaned. “Is it actually morning?”

“Barely.”

She huffed, adjusting her pillow just as a nurse entered, clipboard in hand.

“Good to see you awake, Miss Anders,” the nurse said with a polite smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been stuck in a hospital bed for way too long.”

The nurse chuckled, making a few notes before checking her vitals. “Well, good news—you’re stable, and if everything keeps improving, we can look at releasing you in a few days.”

Elorie perked up at that. “Finally.”

The nurse gave her an amused look. “I’ll be back later for another round of checks.”

She left quietly, and for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the faint rustling of paper as Enzo stretched.

Elorie exhaled, leaning back against the pillows. “I swear, if I have to stay here any longer, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Enzo smirked. “You already sound like Damon.”

Elorie rolled her eyes and reached for the folder Jenna had left behind. “Well, if I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well get some work done before she actually murders me for falling behind.”

Enzo made a noise somewhere between amusement and pity. “You’re really about to do homework while recovering in a hospital?”

“If I don’t, Jenna will probably assign extra work just to prove a point,” Elorie muttered, flipping open the folder.

Enzo leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Right. Well, much as I’d love to stick around and watch you suffer through algebra, I should get going.”

Elorie glanced up, narrowing her eyes. “You going somewhere with Klaus?”

Enzo made some vague excuse about needing to take care of things and was gone before she could press further. The door clicked shut softly behind him, leaving Elorie alone with nothing but the steady beep of the heart monitor and the pile of assignments Jenna had so kindly left behind.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair before picking up her pen.

Might as well get started.

The minutes dragged, filled only with the scratch of pen on paper and the occasional murmur of hospital staff outside her door. She was halfway through an essay when the door swung open again.

By midday, Damon had taken over.

He strolled in like he owned the place, spinning a chair around before sitting in it backward, arms draped over the top like this was some kind of casual hangout and not a hospital room.

Elorie didn’t even bother looking up from her work. “You really can’t resist hovering, can you?”

Damon smirked. “What can I say? You’re Mystic Falls’ latest disaster case. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

She let out an unimpressed hum and kept writing. “Did you talk to Jenna today?”

Damon reached into his jacket and pulled out a blood bag like it was a juice pouch. “Saw her at breakfast over by the hotel. That count?”

Elorie gave him a dry look. “Did you actually talk to her?”

He smirked around his sip. “Technically I just watched her grab pancakes.”

She sighed, shaking her head before going back to her work.

The silence stretched between them, comfortable enough that she almost forgot he was there—until he spoke again.

“So, Ellie…”

She didn’t even pause in her writing. “No.”

Damon grinned. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“You were about to ask me—again—if I can siphon magic from anything magical,” she deadpanned.

Damon clucked his tongue, amusement flashing across his face. “Smart girl, Kitten.”

She finally lifted her gaze, giving him a pointed look. “Do you have something specific you need me to siphon, or is this just your way of entertaining yourself?”

He didn’t answer right away, just tapped his fingers idly against the chair like he was weighing something.

Elorie stared at him for a long moment before shrugging and turning back to her assignment. “That’s what I thought.”

Damon chuckled under his breath but, for once, let it go.

They sat in silence, Damon watching her work with surprising patience. The hum of the hospital settled around them, only occasionally broken by footsteps in the hall or the distant chatter of nurses at the front desk.

Elorie worked through a few problems before finally setting her pen down and stretching.

"If I did help you," she started, glancing at him, "with whatever your secret celestial project is…"

Damon arched a brow, intrigued. "Go on."

She tapped the end of her pen against the table. “Would you help me with something in return?”

Damon’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile, blue eyes glinting with mischief. "And what exactly do you have in mind, kitten?"

Elorie smirked, leaning back against the pillows. She knew exactly what she needed his help with.

Jenna’s focus was split—half tethered to her, half drowning in the chaos of her own family in Mystic Falls. Enzo was buried in whatever secret scheme he and Klaus were orchestrating, leaving her stranded in the middle, an afterthought in their own problems.

She needed allies. People on her side.

She needed to find Diana. To force the truth from her mother—what she had done to her, why she had done it, and how to undo it. She needed to unravel herself from Esther’s grip, to break free from whatever unseen chains bound her. And more than anything, she needed answers.

Who was her father?

Why had no one ever told her?

No one was going to stand in her way.

And if Damon Salvatore wanted something from her, well… she’d make damn sure she got something just as valuable in return. Elorie didn’t dance around it.

"I need your help finding my mother."

Damon, who had been idly twirling a playing card between his fingers, stopped mid-motion and raised a brow. "Jenna is at the hotel," he said slowly, as if she might’ve suffered a head injury along with everything else.

She exhaled sharply. "Not Jenna. She adopted me. I mean my real mother. Diana."

Damon leaned back in his chair, watching her with mild curiosity. "And what, exactly, do you plan to do once you find her? A heartfelt reunion? Tears, apologies, all that family drama?"

Elorie’s jaw tightened. "No." She met his gaze, steady, unwavering. "I plan to force her to tell me what she did to me. And then undo it."

Damon let out a low whistle, his smirk tilting into something half-impressed, half-amused. "There’s that fire, kitten." He tilted his head. "And how, pray tell, do you plan on forcing her? You gonna sweet-talk her into cooperation? Beg?"

Elorie narrowed her eyes. "No. I have Valerie for that."

At that, Damon laughed. A full-bodied, thoroughly entertained laugh, like she had just told him the best joke of the year.

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, shaking his head. "Witches don’t exactly like being forced to do things. They tend to react rather… explosively."

Elorie crossed her arms. "Then I’ll make her see reason."

Damon hummed, feigning contemplation. "Sure. That could work. If you had time, leverage, and a witch who wanted to help you. But since you seem fresh out of all three, I’ll ask you this instead—"

He leaned forward, his eyes dark and gleaming with something unreadable. "Do you have the stomach to do what’s necessary to get them to bend to your will?"

Elorie hesitated, confused. "What does that even mean?"

Damon sighed, shaking his head. "This is why I can’t work with goodie two-shoes," he muttered, rubbing his temples like she had personally exhausted him. "You want to make Valerie comply? Then you use the perfect leverage."

Elorie stared at him, brow furrowing. "Leverage?"

Damon’s smirk returned, sharp and knowing. "It’s currently sightseeing in New York. With Maddox."

Her breath caught.

Her heart gave one hard, resounding thud in her chest.

"Nia."

Damon grinned. "Finally, kitten. You get it."

He leaned back, draping an arm over the chair like this was just another casual conversation and not the equivalent of striking a match near a powder keg.

"You want her mother to bend?" he drawled. "Then you get the baby witch under your heel. It’s the only way."

Elorie’s fingers clenched against the blankets, pulse thrumming in her ears.

Because the worst part?

She knew he was right.

Damon tapped a finger against his knee, watching her with lazy amusement. "Alright, kitten. You’ve got a solid scheme brewing, but where exactly do I fit into all this?"

Elorie leaned back against the pillows, arms crossing over her chest. "I need someone keeping eyes on Mystic Falls."

Damon raised a brow. "And let me guess—this isn’t something you’re planning on doing from the comfort of your cozy little hospital bed?"

She met his gaze evenly and nodded.

He laughed.

Not just a chuckle, but a full, entertained, downright delighted laugh, like she had just announced she was planning to take on an entire vampire coven armed with nothing but a stern glare.

"Oh, this is fantastic," he said, shaking his head. "You are—truly—so entertaining."

Elorie rolled her eyes. "Glad I could amuse you."

"You do," he assured her. Then, still grinning, he tilted his head. "And what, pray tell, do you think Enzo and Jenna are going to say about all this? You think they’re just going to smile, wave, and let you waltz off into this little quest of yours?"

She shrugged. "I have it covered."

Damon arched a brow. "Do you now?"

"You’ll see when we get back to Mystic Falls," she said simply.

He studied her for a moment, like he was debating pushing further, but then he exhaled and sat back in his chair, smirk still firmly in place. "Fine. That’s your plan—more or less. Now, let’s talk about my deal."

Elorie tilted her head. "Right. What is your deal?"

Damon smiled, slow and sharp. "I need to get into a tomb."

She frowned. "A tomb?"

"Mhm."

"Why?"

He grinned. "You’ll see when we get there."

Elorie huffed, unimpressed. "That’s not an answer, Damon."

"Fine," he drawled. "It contains about twenty or so vampires."

Her entire body went still.

Damon waved a hand before she could speak. "Before you go all righteous on me, I don’t need all of them. Just one.*"

She narrowed her eyes. "And what about the rest?"

He shrugged. "Don’t care."

Her fingers tightened around the blanket. "Does this one vampire you want pose a danger to the people of Mystic Falls?"

Damon shook his head. "No. But once I get them, I’d really prefer not to hang around town any longer than I have to."

That made her pause. "So if you’re planning on skipping town, how exactly are you going to keep watch over Mystic Falls for me?"

Damon smirked, all teeth. "That’s the spirit, kitten. Always thinking ahead."

"It’s a valid question."

He waved a hand, dismissive. "Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. Besides, we have to wait for a specific date to even open the tomb. If you can get all your business wrapped up in the next three months, we won’t have a problem."

Elorie narrowed her eyes. "Three months?"

"Three months." He gave her a lazy grin. "Plenty of time for you to go charging into your little family drama. So? We have a deal?"

Elorie exhaled slowly, fingers drumming against the blanket as she weighed her options.

She needed Mystic Falls watched. She needed more time. And she needed someone who knew how to get things done. She needed him, she hate to admit it.

Damon smirked, reading her hesitation like a book. "Don’t look so nervous, kitten. I’m a man of my word."

That, she wasn’t so sure about.

But right now?

She didn’t have a better option.

"Fine." She leaned forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "We have a deal."

Damon’s grin widened. "Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Jenna finally came by for dinner.

And she brought Enzo, like some kind of emotional shield.

Elorie wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or relieved. She’d expected Jenna to come alone, to try and talk—to try and fix things. But with Enzo there, she couldn’t push too hard. Couldn’t force a conversation Elorie wasn’t ready to have.

Apparently, she had even gotten permission to bring her sushi.

They ate quietly. Awkwardly.

The occasional clink of chopsticks against plastic containers, the rustling of paper napkins, the hum of the hospital machines—those sounds filled the space between them more than actual conversation.

Jenna tried to talk to her.

She asked about how Elorie was feeling. About whether she had managed to go through any of her homework. About if the doctors had given a firm date for her release.

Elorie responded with single words. Fine. Yes. No.

Jenna’s smile tightened with every clipped response, but she didn’t push. Instead, she turned to Enzo, as if hoping he could ease the tension.

He sighed, clearly sensing the frost in the air, and leaned back in his chair. "Maybe you just need to be around someone your own age for a bit," he suggested, glancing at Elorie. "Nia should come by tomorrow."

Elorie grunted in response, stabbing at her sushi with her chopsticks.

Jenna, however, reacted like it was the best idea in the world. "Yes! That’s perfect," she said quickly, nodding like she had just found the solution to all their problems. "I’ll text her—make sure she stops by after her exploring."

Elorie said nothing.

Jenna smiled too brightly, like this would fix things. Like bringing Nia in would bridge the distance she felt but didn’t want to acknowledge.

Enzo just sighed again, looking between the two of them like he had been dragged into a war neither of them was willing to name.

The rest of dinner passed in the same strange, stilted quiet.

And when Jenna finally left, Enzo lingered for just a second longer, watching Elorie carefully.

"You going to talk to her?" he asked.

Elorie didn’t look up.

"No."

Enzo exhaled, muttering something under his breath before pushing back his chair.

"Then enjoy your silence, love," he murmured, heading for the door.

She did.

At least, she tried to.

The moment she was alone, Elorie dove back into Hrist’s journal. She needed to understand her. To understand that version of herself—the girl whose choices had led to the mess Elorie was now paying for centuries later.

The pages inside held echoes of another life, another self—one she barely understood, but whose choices had shaped the tangled mess she now found herself in. The weight of those words pressed against her, as though the ink itself carried the burden of a thousand mistakes.

She turned a page carefully, the parchment whispering in the hush of the room.

Hrist had been an apothecary, a healer, a woman who had mixed herbs with careful hands, grinding roots and flowers into pastes and tinctures that soothed the sick and mended the broken. She had worked under Esther, the woman who had given her knowledge but not wisdom, power but not understanding. She had followed her, trusted her, devoted herself to her teachings.

And in the end, she had been used.

Elorie’s fingers curled against the page, the paper crinkling beneath her grip. She forced herself to release it, to breathe, but the weight in her chest did not ease.

Hrist had believed in something. In someone. She had given herself to a cause, only to be wielded like a tool. A weapon. She had never seen the cage closing in around her, not until it was too late.

And still, even at the end—she had been loyal.

Elorie swallowed against the bitterness rising in her throat. She could almost taste it, sharp and metallic like a bitten tongue.

Loyalty.

What had it given her?

Nothing but ghosts and chains.

The fluorescent lights overhead flickered once, casting shadows across the pages, warping the ink into something almost alive. Elorie inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to the journal as if to ground herself in something real, something solid. But the words blurred before her, and she exhaled sharply, tilting her head back against the pillow.

Her pulse was a restless thing beneath her skin, thrumming with unspent energy, with frustration, with anger.

She had done everything right.

She had tried to be good.

And yet, here she was. Trapped in a hospital bed, untethered from her past, her present hanging by a thread.

She clenched her fists, feeling the soft drag of the sheets against her fingertips, the only thing she could hold onto right now.

She didn’t want to be here.

Not in this room, drowning in fluorescent sterility. Not in this moment, suffocating under the weight of history.

She wanted to go home.

But where was home now?

The thought made her throat tighten.

The house Jenna had made for her, warm with the scent of coffee and old books, where laughter once echoed through quiet halls—was that home?

Or was it in the fragmented memories of another life, in a past that wasn’t fully hers but still called to her in her dreams?

Or was it somewhere else entirely, waiting for her in the places she hadn’t yet seen?

The truth settled over her like a slow-moving storm.

She had no home. Not yet.

Because home was not a place. It was something she had to make.

And to do that, she needed answers. She needed freedom.

And above all—she needed time.

She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, feeling the erratic rhythm of her heart beneath her palm.

Hrist had chosen wrong.

But Elorie wouldn’t.

She refused to.

She couldn’t.

She closed the journal, the leather cool against her fingertips, and exhaled.

Tomorrow, she would be one step closer to knowing the truth.

Tomorrow, she would start to take control.

And this time—no one would use her.

Chapter Text

The night pressed against the window, thick and unyielding, broken only by the faint neon glow of the machines beside Elorie’s bed. The air was heavy with the sterile scent of antiseptic, sharp and impersonal, yet beneath it lingered something else—something restless.

She lay motionless, but her thoughts refused to still, circling like vultures over a battlefield. Sleep was a distant thing, always just out of reach, slipping through her fingers the moment she tried to grasp it.

Beside her, Hrist’s journal sat atop the tray table, its leather cover worn smooth from hours of restless touch. It felt heavier than it should have, as if the ink pressed into its pages carried the weight of something more than memory—something waiting. Watching. Demanding to be understood.

She needed more information. Information no one seemed to want to give her.

Klaus bracelet had been meticulous crafted, lain with jewels that perfect for storing extra magic yet had been given to her noticeably empty.

She couldn't ask Damon? She didn’t know him well enough to even consider it—his allegiance felt too uncertain, his intentions too hard to read. No, she needed someone who’s judgement didn’t matter to her, someone whose silence was guaranteed. Someone like Nia.

The thought tightened her chest, but she pushed it aside. The truth was simple: she couldn’t move forward without magic, and this was the only way. She had to act now, before the others pieced together her intentions.

A soft knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. Enzo stepped into the room, his usual smirk tempered by something softer, more cautious. He carried a box of chocolates, which he set on the side table with a flourish.

“Thought you might need a pick-me-up,” he said lightly, though his gaze lingered on her face, searching for something unspoken.

Elorie forced a smile. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“I’m just that thoughtful,” he teased, but his voice was quiet, almost hesitant. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “You’re still not sleeping.”

“I’m fine,” Elorie said quickly, her tone sharper than intended. She regretted it immediately, but Enzo didn’t flinch. Instead, he studied her with that infuriating patience of his, waiting for her to crack.

“I'm gonna step out for a bit. Need to feed,” he said after a beat, his tone casual, though his eyes lingered on her with faint suspicion. “Nia’s downstairs. I’ll have her come up to keep you company. You’ll be okay?”

Elorie’s pulse quickened. She could feel the opening he’d unknowingly handed her, a moment carved out of the chaos. She couldn’t ask Enzo—not when he’d want to know why, and she wasn’t ready to answer the questions he’d inevitably ask. She forced a faint, tired smile. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Enzo.”

He tilted his head, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push. “Try not to stir up trouble while I’m gone,” he said lightly, his smirk returning.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Elorie replied, her voice steady.

With a lingering glance, Enzo stepped out, the door clicking softly behind him. The moment she was alone, Elorie swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the flare of pain in her ribs. She reached for the IV pole, using it for balance as she stood. Every step toward the adjoining bathroom felt like a test, her muscles weak and trembling from the effort. But she couldn’t stop now. She wouldn’t.

The hallway outside was quiet when Nia arrived a few minutes later, carrying a small bundle of herbs and stones. Elorie smiled faintly, her expression one of practiced innocence as she gestured toward the small deck of cards on her bed.

“Thought we could play something,” Elorie said, voice light despite the tension bubbling under the surface.

Nia blinked in surprise, then smiled softly. “Cards? Haven’t done that in ages.”

“Perfect way to pass the time,” Elorie replied, shuffling the deck as she sat back down, wincing for effect. “I need something to take my mind off this place.”

Nia settled into the chair beside her bed, her expression soft and obliging as Elorie began dealing the cards. They played in near silence for the first few rounds, the only sound the soft rustle of cards on the sheets.

As planned, Elorie cracked a joke midway through the game, something lighthearted about the absurd stakes of their card battle. Nia laughed, just as Elorie intended, and in her eagerness to match the humor, Elorie miscalculated. She inhaled the smoothie through the wrong pipe, choking violently as the liquid burned its way down her throat.

Nia’s expression shifted instantly to concern. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked, rising from her seat.

Elorie coughed and wheezed, waving a hand weakly. “Bathroom,” she managed between gasps, her voice raspy and desperate.

Nia moved quickly, guiding Elorie by the arm to the small adjoining bathroom. Elorie collapsed over the toilet, her body heaving as she pretended to retch. She kept her movements calculated but frantic, her hand darting out behind the porcelain tank. Her fingers found the plastic knife she had hidden there earlier, clutching it tightly as she continued her act.

“Do you need water?” Nia asked, leaning closer, her voice softer now, tinged with genuine concern.

Elorie’s body stilled for a fraction of a second. Perfect.

She turned sharply, her movements quick and fluid, swinging the blade in a wide arc. Nia’s eyes widened in shock, her instincts taking over as she threw her hands up to defend herself. The knife caught her forearm, the blade slicing deep into her vein. A sharp gasp escaped Nia as crimson welled up and spilled over her pale skin, pooling onto the tiled floor.

For a moment, the two women locked eyes. Nia’s expression flickered between disbelief and betrayal, while Elorie’s face was set, cold and determined.

Elorie gripped Nia’s wrist, making direct eye contact as she began chanting, her words steady and deliberate. Nia struggled, trying to wrench her arm free, but it was too late. The spell was finished, the link solidified.

Nia’s voice was sharp with fury and panic. “What the hell are you trying to do?” she spat, her breath uneven as she clutched her injured arm.

Elorie smirked, lowering herself onto the toilet lid with a casual ease. She raised her own palm, revealing a fresh cut that mirrored Nia’s, the blood pooling faintly. “I’m done being a backseat driver in my own life,” she said, her voice laced with bitter amusement. “Now, you and your mom are going to help me.”

Nia’s eyes narrowed, confusion blending with anger. “Help you with what?”

Elorie’s smile widened as she leaned forward. “I’ve seen the way you look at Maddox,” she said with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “So, I’ll help you out. Like a friend should.”

Nia’s expression froze, disbelief flashing across her face. “You’re insane,” she muttered, shaking her head. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, it’s simple,” Elorie replied, her tone light but chilling. “You’re going to get closer to Maddox. As close as you can. And by sticking with him, you’ll keep me up to date on what Klaus is doing.”

Nia blinked, stunned into silence for a moment before her voice returned, tinged with incredulity. “That’s it? You cut me for intel?”

Elorie’s smile turned razor-sharp. “Not just that. You’re also going to call Valerie and tell her not to leave Mystic Falls. Tell her to get cozy. Really cozy. And if she tries anything stupid…” Elorie’s voice dropped, her eyes hardening. “I’ll kill you. Permanently.”

Nia’s jaw clenched, her mind racing as her free hand moved instinctively to apply pressure to her wounded arm. The look in her eyes was equal parts fear and fury as she stared at Elorie, who sat unmoved, her presence cold and commanding.

“You’ve gone mad.” Nia said quietly, her voice shaking despite her attempt at defiance. “You’re going to regret this,”

Elorie sat back on the closed toilet lid, breathing hard but triumphant. She lifted her own hand, showing a shallow cut along her palm, blood pooling faintly. “Maybe I have,” she said, her tone icy and unrepentant.

. . .

Once Nia left the room, Elorie returned to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Her legs shook with the effort, but she forced herself onward, the adrenaline carrying her as she sat at the small hospital table. Dipping her finger in the blood that still pooled faintly on her palm, she drew symbols across the smooth, sterile surface—symbols she remembered from the fringes of another life.

Hrist’s journal sat nearby, its presence anchoring her as she whispered the incantations, the magic burning faintly at the edges of her awareness. When she finished the last symbol, she pressed her hand firmly to the center, her voice low and steady as she called out.

“Hrist?”

Nothing.

Elorie gritted her teeth, frustration flashing across her face. She closed her eyes, drawing a shaky breath before she tried again. “Daphne.”

Still. Nothing.

“Margaret.”

The room remained silent, empty but for the faint hum of the machines.

Her patience wore thin as she exhaled sharply, her tone more determined now. “Emmeline.”

For a moment, the symbols glowed faintly. Then, Elorie’s reflection in the darkened hospital window shimmered. Her lips turned upward in a mischievous smile—a smile that didn’t belong to her.

“Hello, darling,” the reflection purred, Emmeline’s voice dripping with amusement and danger. “What do you want, little one? You didn’t spill blood just to say hello, did you?”

Elorie swallowed hard, her resolve hardening. “I need answers,” she said firmly. “About you. About us. About all of this.”

Emmeline’s laugh was low and throaty, a sound that sent a shiver down Elorie’s spine. “Oh, my dear,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “You don’t even know the right questions to ask. But don’t worry—I’ll help you. For a price.”

Elorie’s heart sank, but she didn’t let her expression falter. “What price?”

Emmeline leaned closer, her face nearly pressing against the surface of the mirror, her grin sharper than ever. “Oh, we’ll figure that out in time,” she said, her voice a dangerous whisper. “For now, let’s start with the truth, shall we?”

The mirror pulsed, and Elorie felt a surge of magic flood the room. Her reflection seemed to shimmer and shift, and she braced herself, knowing that whatever answers Emmeline had, they wouldn’t come without a cost.

The words danced on her lips, but she hesitated, the weight of what she needed to ask pressing down on her chest. Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she looked away, fear rising like a tide.

So she started lightly, “Why will no one else answer me?”

“They’re afraid.”

Elorie narrowed her eyes. “Of?”

“You.” She said simply. “I don’t think anyone knows what to make of you. What to do about you.”

“I see,” Elorie said tentatively, before turning to look at her finger. She tasted her next question. She knew what she had to asked next.

But she couldn’t leave it unsaid.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet Emmeline’s expectant gaze. “The rot,” she said finally, her voice trembling.

Emmeline’s lips curled into a leer. “Yes?”

“I… I felt it,” Elorie whispered, her hands gripping the edges of the vanity. “When I touched Hrist’s door.”

Emmeline nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. She didn’t speak, didn’t elaborate, only waited. There was a weight behind her silence, an unspoken magic holding her tongue, forcing Elorie to give voice to the truth they both already knew. She glanced at the journal behind her. Clenched her fingers at the words she felt inside.

Elorie’s breath hitched as the words came, soft and fearful. “Hrist is the rot.”

Emmeline’s grin flickered, but it didn’t meet her eyes. It wasn’t one of triumph or cruelty—it was a sad smile, laced with something far heavier than Elorie could name. “How long?” Elorie whispered, the question a fragile thing in the space between them.

Emmeline shrugged, her gaze distant. “I’m not sure… when she changed. When she stopped seeing us as people. I suppose it must’ve been when we refused to let her sink her way into us, to take us, to have us.” Her voice softened, her next words barely audible. “I think… she thinks if she helps Esther, she can come back. To this mortal realm.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, unspoken but understood. For him.

Elorie’s chest tightened at the thought. The silence that followed was suffocating, the weight of what Hrist wanted, what she had become, pressing down on her.

“Is it why they don’t want to talk to me?” She asked next.

Emmeline shrugged. “Maybe, no one can tell what you will do next when you figured it out”

Silence fell between them again.

Emmeline broke the quiet, her voice sharp and clear. “Hrist can’t come here,” she said firmly. “You have to invite her in.”

Their eyes locked, the tension crackling like static between them. “Don’t,” Emmeline said, her tone an urgent plea. “No matter what she whispers to you. No matter what she promises you. Don’t let her in.”

The silence that followed was dark and uncomfortable, but it spoke volumes. Elorie could feel the gravity of Emmeline’s warning settling over her like a shroud.

“They…” Emmeline’s eyes hardened. “We, wont help you, if we get even a hint that you mean to let her in. So that means, you can’t want him.”

Elorie stiffened, her jaw tightening as the words settled over her as she stumbled back at the words.

“We are you. We can see in your head, your thoughts. We…” Emmeline paused, “I understand the novelty of him. Why you would be drawn to him. Why any of us would had he crossed our path but you can’t. She’d sooner figure out a way to kill you before she’d let you have him. She’d severe the links to the covenstead. And no one knows what will happen to us if she does that. So, you can’t have him.”

Elorie laughed shakily, “I hardly know the guy and already I’m receiving death threats over him”

Emmeline hummed. Eyes sharp looking into her soul. “Focus on riding yourself of the rot. And removing the tether to Esther”

She felt the truth of it in her bones but didn’t want to accept it.

“I’m not sure how it works,” Emmeline said softly. “But she needs your permission to take over your body. It might have to do with the fact that you don’t hold magic like we did. Being a siphon seems to have worked out in your favor.”

Elorie’s eyes widen.

“I fled,” Emmeline continued, her voice quieter now, “when I saw what they wanted to do. What they were willing to sacrifice. Hrist’s goals, her plans… they live to fulfill her wish. For the power she promises them. By removing you from that place, your mother may have saved your life.”

Elorie’s jaw clenched, her body rigid. She refused to thank Diana for anything. Whatever her mother’s motives had been, they weren’t born of love or kindness. They never were.

Her thoughts churned as she stared at Emmeline, the weight of what she had learned pressing down on her. Her family, her legacy, her very existence—it was all tangled in a web of power, betrayal, and ambition. And at the center of it all was Hrist, waiting, scheming, promising everything in exchange for something far more dangerous.

Elorie inhaled sharply, straightening her spine. “Then I’ll stop her,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

Emmeline’s grin returned, faint and almost approving. “You’d better,” she said. “Because if you don’t, no one else will. I don’t know if you’ve realized you’re quiet short of allies these days.”

Elorie froze, her pulse a hammer against her ribs.

"Elorie?"

Enzo.

The door creaked open before she could gather herself. He stepped inside, his gaze immediately narrowing at the sight of her hunched at the table. The low light cast shadows across the hospital room, but it did nothing to obscure what was laid out in front of her—bloodstained symbols she hadn’t had time to erase.

Enzo’s expression remained unreadable as he stepped forward, crouching beside the table. He reached out, tracing a single finger over one of the markings, the dark red smearing slightly under his touch. Slowly, he brought his hand to his lips and tasted it.

His gaze flicked to hers, sharp as a blade.

"What the hell is going on, Elorie?"

Elorie swallowed hard, her throat tight. She didn’t answer.

His eyes swept the room, and she knew the exact moment he saw the faint trail of blood leading to the bathroom. He straightened, his movements slow, deliberate, then turned and pulled Nia’s abandoned chair to the table.

The chair scraped against the floor, its groan unsettling in the heavy silence. Enzo sank into it, leaning back with the kind of controlled ease that made Elorie more anxious than if he had just started demanding answers.

He reached for the discarded deck of cards Nia had left behind, turning them over in his hands. A slow, practiced shuffle, the quiet snap of the cards breaking the thick silence between them.

"Sit."

Elorie hesitated.

Enzo didn’t look at her. He watched the cards, his fingers moving with an almost lazy elegance. But there was no mistaking the weight in his voice. It wasn’t a request.

Reluctantly, she climbed into the hospital bed, pulling the blankets around her. The makeshift poker table—a hospital tray perched precariously over her lap—stood between them, a poor attempt at normalcy.

Enzo dealt the cards. His knee nudged the edge of the bed, his casual sprawl a stark contrast to the sterile cold of the room.

"Let’s talk," he began, flipping a card between his fingers. "You should be careful about what you’re projecting. Poker is as much about deception as it is about strategy. And, darling, you’re terrible at deception."

Elorie glared at him, though there was no real bite behind it. "I am not."

Enzo arched a brow, tilting his head slightly. "Oh, but you are. You practically announce every emotion with a neon sign. Right now, for instance—" he gestured to her tightly clasped hands, "—you’re nervous. Fidgety. And very much hoping I don’t press too hard."

She scoffed, shifting uncomfortably. "Maybe I’m just strategizing for this game."

"Please." He chuckled, dealing himself a fresh hand. "If strategizing means gripping your cards like they’re a lifeline, then sure. Call it that."

She exhaled sharply, gaze flickering down to the cards. "You know, some people might find this kind of ‘encouragement’ a little condescending."

"Oh, come now," he said, feigning offense. "If I were being condescending, you’d know. This—" he tapped the tray lightly, "—is merely constructive criticism."

Elorie let out a soft huff, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. But Enzo’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the way her shoulders tensed, her jaw locking slightly as though keeping something buried.

"Alright," he said smoothly, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the tray. "Out with it. What’s rattling around in that lovely head of yours?"

"Nothing." She answered too quickly.

He frowned. "Elorie."

She swallowed, fingers brushing over the corner of a card. "Are there… any other vampires in the building?"

Enzo’s amusement flickered into something more curious. "Not unless you’re hiding some yourself. Damon went with Jenna to do the domestic bit—shopping, wasn’t it? Why? Were you expecting company?"

"No." Her voice was sharp, too sharp. She shook her head. "Just… thought I’d ask."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, watching her with that unnerving precision of his. "Hmm. And why do I get the feeling that’s not the whole story?"

She remained quiet, her fingers tightening around the cards until they bent slightly. He let the silence stretch for a beat before leaning closer, voice dropping into something softer, more insistent.

"What’s really on your mind, Elorie?"

She hesitated. Her breath hitched. She raked a hand through her hair, leaving it slightly tousled.

"I was just… wondering something."

Enzo’s expression remained unreadable.

Elorie met his gaze, steady now despite the tightness in her throat. "How many people have you killed?"

Enzo went very, very still.

The air in the room shifted, growing heavier, charged. The smirk he usually wore like armor faded, leaving something colder in its place.

For a long moment, he simply stared at her.

"Well," he said at last, his voice low, measured. "That depends. Do you want the honest answer? Or the one that’ll let you sleep tonight?"

Elorie’s grip on the cards slackened.

"The truth," she said.

Enzo studied her carefully, his gaze flicking over her face as if weighing how much she could handle. Then he let out a breath, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Enough that I’ve lost count. More than I should have. And none of it will ever sit right.”

Elorie flinched, though she tried to mask it. He noticed, of course, his lips curving into a faint, humorless smile.

“Not what you wanted to hear?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know what I wanted to hear,” she admitted, her voice small.

“Well, there it is.” His tone was quiet now, the usual sharpness muted. “I’ve done things—terrible things. And I’ll carry them with me for as long as I exist. But here’s the kicker, love.” He leaned forward again, his gaze piercing. “I can’t change what I’ve done. Neither can you, when it comes to your own mistakes.”

The hospital room was quiet, the faint beeping of the monitors the only sound as Enzo studied Elorie’s face, his dark eyes narrowing slightly in thought. The weight of her question lingered in the air between them, heavy and raw.

“Why the sudden interest, anyway?” he asked, tilting his head just so, his tone lighter but edged with curiosity. “Planning a new career as a vampire therapist?”

Elorie shook her head, her lips twitching into a faint, fleeting smile despite the turmoil that lingered in her chest. “I just...” She trailed off, gripping the edge of the hospital blanket, her knuckles whitening as the words struggled to escape her. Finally, her voice cracked through the tension. “I have this anger burning in my chest, right? Like... this constant heat that won’t go away. I want to punish... everyone. My mom. My family. Esther.”

Enzo didn’t speak right away, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he leaned closer. His voice, when it came, was soft but deliberate. “And what do you intend to do with all this anger, Elorie?”

Her jaw clenched, the words spilling from her before she could stop them, raw and unfiltered. “I want to kill them, Enzo. I want to kill them all.”

The air seemed to still, the weight of her confession pressing down on both of them. Enzo’s expression didn’t change immediately, though something flickered in his eyes—concern, perhaps, or understanding, but definitely not shock.

He leaned back in his chair, his movements measured as he ran a hand through his hair. “Well,” he said, his voice low and steady, “that’s certainly one way to deal with family drama.”

Elorie shot him a sharp look, but he held up a hand before she could speak. “Not dismissing it, love. Not judging, either. Believe me, I know what it feels like to want to burn the whole bloody world down. But...” He paused, tilting his head as he searched her face. “Whats that got to do with that spell I just interrupted?”

Elorie’s breath hitched, her fingers trembling as she gripped the blanket tighter. “When I was under Esther’s spell, I could speak to other versions of myself. Like, lives I’ve lived before. I thought-” Her voice broke, but she pushed forward. “I thought once I was out here I could do it again. But-”

He studied her in silence for a long moment, his gaze steady, unflinching. “You didn’t like what they had to say? I get the But killing them? That’s not just anger, Elorie. That’s rage. And rage...” He let the word hang in the air before leaning forward, his voice quiet but pointed. “Rage doesn’t solve things. It only consumes you.”

Her laugh was bitter, hollow. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve already done it. You’ve already killed.”

“And look where it’s gotten me,” he countered, his tone sharp but not unkind. “Look at me, Elorie. Do I seem like someone who’s at peace with himself? Someone who’s won?”

She faltered, her hands relaxing slightly, though the fire in her eyes remained. “I don’t care about peace. I just want them to feel what I feel. To hurt the way I hurt.”

Enzo’s expression softened, though his gaze never wavered. “And then what? You kill them, you make them pay. And then what, Elorie? What’s left of you after that?”

She looked away, the question cutting deeper than she’d expected. Her chest rose and fell with the weight of her breathing, but she didn’t answer.

“Rage feels good,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “It burns so brightly, it makes you think you’re alive. But it doesn’t last. And when it’s gone, you’re left with the ashes. Trust me—I’ve been there. And it’s not a place you want to be.”

Elorie swallowed hard, her gaze falling to the cards still scattered on the tray between them. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”

“You don’t have to stop,” he said simply. “You just have to find a way to use it. Anger’s a powerful thing, love. It can destroy you... or it can fuel you. The choice is yours.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes glistening with unshed tears that refused to fall. Her voice trembled, but there was steel beneath it. “And what if I... what if I don’t want to make the right choice here, Enzo? What if I’ve already started making the wrong choice? What if I want to burn the world down?”

Her words hung in the air, raw and unflinching, daring him to react. Enzo paused, his expression unreadable as he set the cards down on the tray between them. His faint smile carried none of its usual charm, only a quiet, somber weight.

Elorie flinched. She tried to mask it, but of course, Enzo noticed. He always did. His lips curved—not in amusement, but in something quieter, sharper. A humorless ghost of a smile.

"Not what you wanted to hear?" he asked softly.

Elorie’s throat tightened. She exhaled through her nose, gaze locked on the scattered playing cards between them. "I don’t know what I wanted to hear."

"Well, there it is."

His voice was quieter now, the usual sharpness muted into something weightier.

"I’ve done things—terrible things. And I’ll carry them with me for as long as I exist." His eyes were dark, steady. "But here’s the kicker, love."* He leaned forward, the sterile glow of the hospital lights casting shadows across his face. "I can’t change what I’ve done. And neither can you, when it comes to your own mistakes."

The air between them hung heavy, the beeping of the monitors the only sound filling the silence.

Enzo studied her, his gaze narrowing just slightly. He wasn’t just watching her—he was reading her, peeling back the layers she tried so desperately to hold in place.

"Why the sudden interest, anyway?" His tone was lighter, but the edge of curiosity was there. "Planning a new career as a vampire therapist?"

Elorie let out a short, hollow laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "I just..." She hesitated, gripping the edge of the hospital blanket, her knuckles white.

The words fought against her, thick in her throat. But when they finally came, they cracked through the silence like splintered glass.

"I have this anger burning in my chest," she admitted, voice raw. "Like... this constant heat that won’t go away. I want to punish everyone. My mom. My family. Esther."

Enzo’s expression barely shifted, but she saw the way his fingers flexed against the armrest, the subtle way his body leaned closer. He was listening—really listening.

"And what do you intend to do with all this anger, Elorie?" His voice was soft, deliberate.

Her jaw clenched. The words slipped out before she could stop them, cutting and unfiltered.

"I want to kill them, Enzo. I want to kill them all."

The air in the hospital room seemed to still.

Enzo didn’t react right away. There was no shock in his face, no gasp of disapproval. Instead, something flickered behind his eyes—something old and knowing, an understanding born from a past drenched in blood.

He leaned back in his chair, slow and measured, dragging a hand through his dark hair.

"Well," he murmured, voice low, steady, "that’s certainly one way to deal with family drama."

Elorie shot him a sharp look, but before she could snap at him, he raised a hand, cutting her off.

"Not dismissing it, love. Not judging, either." He tilted his head, watching her the way a predator watches something that might become dangerous. "Believe me, I know what it feels like to want to burn the whole bloody world down."* A beat passed. "But what exactly does that have to do with the spell I just interrupted?"

Elorie’s breath hitched.

She looked away, fingers trembling slightly as she smoothed the edge of the blanket, a poor attempt at steadiness.

"When I was under Esther’s spell," she said, voice tight, "I could speak to other versions of myself. Lives I’ve lived before."

His eyes darkened with something unreadable.

"I thought... once I was free, I could do it again." Her throat worked around the next words, but she forced them out. "But I can’t."

Enzo was silent for a long moment.

"And you didn’t like what they had to say?" His voice was softer now, like he already knew the answer.

Elorie huffed a bitter laugh. "I didn’t get to hear anything at all." She lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Because it’s gone, Enzo. The connection, the memories—whatever my mother did to me, whatever spell she used to bind me to Esther, it took something when it broke. And I want it back."

His jaw tensed, but he said nothing.

Elorie let out a slow, measured breath. "And if I have to kill her to get it, I will."

His eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite name.

"That’s not just anger, Elorie. That’s rage." He leaned in, the hospital tray between them the only thing keeping the conversation from tipping into something heavier. "And rage doesn’t solve things. It only consumes you."

Her laugh was cold. "That’s easy for you to say. You’ve already done it. You’ve already killed."

"And look where it’s gotten me," he countered, his voice sharp but not cruel. "Look at me, Elorie. Do I seem like someone at peace with himself? Someone who’s won?"

She faltered.

Her hands loosened slightly, the tension in her shoulders shifting, but the fire in her gaze remained. "I don’t care about peace." Her voice was steady, unwavering. "I just want them to feel what I feel. To hurt the way I hurt."

Enzo’s expression softened, though his gaze never wavered.

"And then what?" he asked, his voice quiet, cutting. "You kill them, you make them pay. And then what, Elorie? What’s left of you after that?"

Her breath came shallow.

She didn’t answer.

Enzo sighed, running a hand over his face. "Rage feels good, love. It burns so brightly, it makes you think you’re alive. But it doesn’t last. And when it’s gone, you’re left with the ashes." His voice dropped lower. "Trust me—I’ve been there. And it’s not a place you want to be."

Elorie stared at the cards scattered between them.

"I don’t know how to stop feeling like this."

"You don’t have to stop." His answer was simple, but it wasn’t dismissive. "You just have to find a way to use it. Anger’s a powerful thing, El. It can destroy you... or it can fuel you. The choice is yours."

She looked up at him then, eyes glistening with unshed tears, but there was no weakness in them. Only steel.

"And what if I don’t want to make the right choice, Enzo?" Her voice trembled, but her resolve did not. "What if I’ve already started making the wrong choice? What if I want to burn the world down?"

The words hung between them, raw and unflinching.

Enzo exhaled, slow and measured. He set the deck of cards down on the tray, his movements careful, deliberate. His faint smile carried none of its usual charm—only a quiet, somber weight.

"Then I suppose the real question is—" he said, voice hushed, "will you still recognize yourself once the flames die out?"

Enzo fixed her with a hard stare, the warmth from moments ago completely gone.

"I think you need to hang out with Damon less," he said bluntly. "I don’t think he’s a good influence on you. I don’t think any of this is a good influence on you. When you go back home, let’s take a break from all the magic stuff."

Elorie’s breath hitched, her eyes widening. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly." He leaned back slightly, but his gaze never wavered. "Leave severing the bond with Esther to me. I have a deal with Klaus—I’ll handle it. I’ll get rid of her. You just focus on being a high schooler."

Her stomach twisted, the words hitting her like a blow she hadn’t seen coming.

"I’ll even help you find your mom," he continued, as if that was some sort of consolation prize. "To talk to her. We should probably get you into therapy to deal with all this rage—"

"Are you hearing yourself, Enzo?"

Her voice was sharp, cutting through the space between them like glass.

Enzo’s jaw tightened, but his expression didn’t falter.

"Well, what I just heard was the person I look at as a little sister tell me she wants to commit genocide against her entire coven."

Elorie inhaled sharply. Genocide. He’d said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, like she had announced something monstrous, something vile.

She had.

But it didn’t feel that way. Not to her.

"You said the choice was mine," she shot back, voice trembling with restrained fury.

Enzo exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. "And I’m guiding you to make a different one," he said, matter-of-factly, his tone cool, unyielding.

Elorie clenched her fists beneath the hospital blanket, the sharp scent of antiseptic suddenly suffocating.

"You’re guiding me?" she echoed, her voice hollow. "You don’t get to guide me, Enzo. You don’t get to decide what’s right for me. You don’t get to fix me."

"I’m not trying to fix you, Elorie," he said calmly, but there was something in his voice—something firm, unyielding. "I’m trying to stop you from becoming something you can’t come back from."

Her breath came out uneven.

"And what if I don’t want to come back?"

A silence stretched between them.

Enzo’s gaze darkened, something flickering behind his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. Then, after a long beat, he leaned forward again, his voice quieter now.

"Then I’ll stop you myself."

Elorie’s pulse thrummed violently in her ears.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.

But something between them had shifted. And they both knew—

Nothing would ever be the same after this.

The door swung open so forcefully it crashed against the wall, the sound slicing through the sterile quiet of the hospital room.

Jenna stood in the doorway, breathless, disheveled, and shaking. Her wide, glassy eyes darted around the room like she had forgotten where she was, like she couldn’t quite find her footing in reality. Her hands were trembling, knuckles white as they clutched her phone, her grip so tight it was a miracle the thing didn’t shatter between her fingers.

Elorie’s stomach twisted at the sight of her.

"Jenna?" Her voice came out softer than she intended, fragile, hesitant, like she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask. "Are you okay?"

Jenna inhaled sharply, but it caught in her throat. Her lips parted, her chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths. She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.

Elorie sat up straighter, ignoring the dull ache in her limbs. "Jenna?"

Then, finally, the words broke free—jagged and raw.

"There was an accident," she whispered.

The room seemed to tilt.

Enzo, who had been watching quietly from his seat, immediately straightened. "Accident?" His voice was steady, but there was something sharp in the way he said it, something bracing for impact.

Jenna made a sound—something between a sob and a breathless exhale. "A few hours ago… back home…" She squeezed her eyes shut like she was trying to hold herself together, but it was slipping, cracking apart at the edges.

Elorie gripped the sheets beneath her, bracing herself.

Jenna’s voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and uneven.

"They fished Miranda’s car out of the river."

Elorie froze.

Jenna swallowed hard. "She and Grayson…" Her voice wavered, her throat bobbing. "They didn’t make it."

The words crashed into Elorie like a tidal wave, sucking the air from the room.

She stared at Jenna, her brain refusing to catch up with what she had just heard. The words didn’t make sense.

Didn’t make sense.

"What?" The word barely left her lips.

Jenna sucked in a breath, shaking her head, as if trying to find some stability in all of this. "They’re gone, El."

The shock burned in her chest like ice and fire all at once. The room blurred at the edges, sounds distorting into a dull hum.

She shook her head. "No, that’s—"

Jenna pressed a trembling hand to her lips, like she was trying to keep herself from shattering completely. "Elena’s in the hospital." She took a breath, but it broke halfway through. "Broken leg. She—she was in the car too."

Elorie felt the blood drain from her face.

Jenna let out a gasping sob. "She’s all alone. Jeremy’s all alone."

And then, as if the weight of it all finally broke her, Jenna crumbled.

Enzo was at her side before she could collapse, his arms around her in an instant. Jenna buried her face into his shoulder, shaking as the sobs tore from her throat, her fingers curling into his jacket like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.

Enzo held her, his grip steady, his hand smoothing down her back as she trembled. "What do you need?" he asked softly, his voice low and certain, grounding.

Jenna’s entire body trembled as she tried to speak between sobs. "I need to go home," she choked out. "I need to be there for them."

Enzo nodded against her hair, his voice firm. "Okay. We’ll go."

Jenna tensed, shaking her head against his shoulder. "No. It’s not safe for you there."

Enzo pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, his dark eyes intense. "I’ll risk it," he said simply. "You shouldn’t be alone, Jenna."

She blinked up at him, tear-streaked and exhausted, like she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the strength to.

Then she turned to Elorie, her lips parting, but no words came.

Elorie felt something tighten in her throat.

She managed a weak, choked "Go."

Jenna shook her head slightly like she couldn’t bear to leave her behind, but Elorie pushed through the lump in her throat. "I’ll be fine," she whispered. "Damon’s here. I can come home in a few days when I’m released."

Enzo clenched his jaw. "That’s a terrible idea."

Elorie forced out a thin, humorless smile. "I’ll be good. I promise to stay out of trouble."

Enzo exhaled sharply, clearly unconvinced.

Jenna reached out, her fingers cold as they squeezed Elorie’s hand. Elorie squeezed back, her heart aching at the silent desperation in her grip.

"I’ll be home soon," she promised.

Jenna gave a shaky nod, fresh tears slipping down her face. "Okay."

And then, just like that, she was gone.

Elorie stared at the empty doorway long after they had left.

The silence in the room felt heavier now like something irreversible had shifted.

She had promised to stay out of trouble.

She just wasn’t sure if trouble would stay out of her.

Chapter Text

She was still reeling, her breath shallow, her pulse uneven. They’re gone. They’re gone. The words echoed, fragmented, disjointed, as if her brain refused to fully absorb them.

Jenna had left. Enzo had left.

And now, she was alone. The weight of the moment pressed against her chest, as heavy as the storm cloud of grief that had settled

Elorie zipped up her bag with precise, measured movements, her fingers steady even as the storm inside her raged. Across the room, Damon leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with lazy amusement, while Nia stood in the corner, arms folded, irritation etched into every line of her face.

"And how exactly am I supposed to update you?" Nia asked, voice clipped, unimpressed.

Elorie didn’t look at her. Instead, she pulled a folded slip of paper from her pocket and tossed it onto the bed. "Send weekly reports—unless something interesting happens. Then, I expect them sooner."

Nia scoffed, shaking her head as she snatched up the paper. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

Elorie finally met her gaze, her expression cool, unreadable. "And you should remember not to get too clever when pulling against the spell linking us."

The moment the words left her lips, Nia’s hand flew to her throat. Her breath hitched, her fingers clutching at her windpipe as though an invisible hand had seized it. Her body tensed, her lungs fighting for air.

Elorie tilted her head, watching.

"Take it down a notch, Carrie,"* Damon drawled, barely looking up from where he was picking at his nails.

Elorie exhaled sharply and released the spell. Nia staggered back, one hand braced against the wall, her breath ragged and furious.

She didn’t argue. She didn’t push. She simply turned and scurried out of the room, not looking back.

Elorie shut her suitcase with finality and turned to Damon, tightening the strings of her hoodie around her face. "Are you ready?"

Damon smirked, ever entertained. "More than. I secured the most luxurious transport vampire compulsion can buy. There’s a private jet waiting for us."

She rolled her eyes but followed him down the hallway, her grip tightening on her bag.

By the time they reached the hospital lobby, Damon was already at the front desk, signing her out with an easy charm that made the nurse practically melt. Elorie barely acknowledged it, pulling out her phone to send a quick message to her friends.

As she typed, a new message came in from Enzo.

What time are you arriving?

She started to type a reply—

The phone was plucked from her fingertips before she could blink.

Her body went rigid, her breath freezing in her throat. Every instinct flared at once as her eyes snapped up, colliding with a pair of all-too-familiar, knowing blue ones.

"Hello, love," Klaus said, shameless and unhurried, twirling the phone between his fingers. His smirk was nothing short of infuriating.

Elorie bristled. "Heading home now?" he mused, as if he hadn’t just stolen her phone, as if he hadn’t interrupted her entire escape plan with the effortless arrogance only he could manage.

Damon let out a long, suffering sigh. "Ah, bloody hell."

Elorie clenched her jaw.

Of course he was here.

Klaus smirked, twirling her phone between his fingers like it was a mere trinket instead of the tether she’d been using to keep control over her rapidly shifting circumstances.

"What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t come to see Enzo’s precious little sister off?" he mused, his voice thick with amusement. His eyes raked over her, slow and deliberate, before flicking briefly to Damon. "And her pet, of course."

Damon’s jaw tightened, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. "You’re hilarious, really." He snatched the bags from beside her feet with a rough tug, his voice edged with irritation. "I’ll be in the car."

Elorie exhaled slowly as Damon stalked off, leaving her alone with Klaus, who tilted his head toward the courtyard in an unspoken invitation.

Not that it was much of a choice.

She followed him outside, the evening air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint remnants of cigarette smoke from the hospital staff’s break area. The cold pressed against her skin, seeping through her hoodie, but she barely registered it.

They walked in silence for a while, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. Klaus, as always, carried himself with the unbothered ease of a man who knew he owned the world, hands tucked into his coat pockets, shoulders relaxed.

"Tell me, love," he began, breaking the quiet, "have you had any luck finding the item I need?"

His tone was playful, cheeky—like they were discussing something trivial, rather than the ancient artifact he had so casually tasked her with tracking down.

Elorie kept her face neutral. "My grimoires are at home," she said easily, "but once I’m there, I can take a look."

Klaus gave a satisfied nod. "That’s my girl."

She ignored the flicker of annoyance curling in her chest.

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t quite comfortable. Klaus wasn’t a man who let silence settle without reason.

And then—he said the oddest thing.

"Stay out of trouble when you go home."

Elorie frowned, glancing up at him.

It wasn’t the words themselves, but the way he said them—low, measured, as if he were weighing something heavy in his mind. And the way he was looking at her, like he saw something past the surface. Something beneath her skin.

She knew that look.

A creeping chill slid down her spine, a sharp and unwanted recognition settling in her bones.

Was he seeing her—or Hrist?

Before she could think, his hand lifted, fingers curling under her chin. His touch was firm but strangely gentle, like he was searching for something in the curve of her cheek, the depth of her eyes.

And in that moment, she knew.

Klaus wasn’t looking at her.

He was looking at a ghost.

She jerked back, shrugging off his touch like it burned. Her pulse pounded beneath her skin. "I’m not your dead girlfriend."

The words came out sharper than she intended, laced with something almost brittle.

Klaus blinked, then—he laughed. A rich, knowing chuckle, deep in his chest.

"No, you’re not."

The air between them felt stretched, charged with something unspoken. Klaus was still smiling, but it wasn’t quite as smug as before. There was something else in his expression—an understanding, an acceptance.

"Have a safe flight home, Elorie."

Her hands clenched at her sides. She glared at him for a beat longer before giving a small, curt nod.

Then she turned on her heel and walked away, not looking back as she headed toward the car where Damon was waiting.

Her heart was still pounding.

And she hated that he had seen it.

The flight home had been smooth, almost too easy. Elorie had expected turbulence—not from the sky, but from the weight of her thoughts, from the gravity of what she was about to do. But as the private jet sliced through the darkness, she sat in silence, gazing out at the inky expanse beyond the window, letting the hum of the engines drown out everything else.

Damon, sprawled lazily across the seat opposite her, had only raised a single brow when they landed to find Valerie waiting for them at the hangar.

"Where’s Enzo?" Damon asked, eyes flicking toward her in mild suspicion.

Valerie answered first, arms crossed, her voice flat. "I told him a later time."

Damon let out an amused scoff. "And why exactly would you do that?"

Elorie merely smirked as she climbed into the sleek black car Valerie had rented. "You’ll see.”

Valerie glared at them both before sliding into the driver’s seat. “Can we please hurry this up? Every minute I spend with you fills me with regret. I should smothered you in your sleep when you were a baby.”

Elorie smirked slightly. “But you didn’t. And now we get to go on this fascinating adventure together”

Valerie gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles went white.

Damon leaned forward from the backseat, expression expectant. “So. Where exactly are we going? Because unless you’ve developed some charming habit of sightseeing at the crack of dawn, this doesn’t look like town.”

Neither woman answered. And Damon didn’t push, but she could feel his stare burning into her profile as they pulled away. Instead of heading into town, Valerie drove past it—over the bridge, out into the darkened roads that curled along the border of Mystic Falls.

The town faded in the rearview mirror, swallowed by towering trees and the thick scent of damp earth. The air out here felt different—older, laced with something unseen.

They weren’t going into town.

Instead, Valerie drove them out, past the bridge, past the sleepy glow of Mystic Falls waking up, until they reached the outer edge of the town’s borders. The moment the tires hit the dirt road, the air seemed to shift, the trees taller, the sky above them darker despite the creeping sunlight.

The boundary of Mystic Falls.

Elorie stepped out first, stretching as the cool morning air bit against her skin. The place felt thin here, the kind of quiet that hummed with old magic.

Damon didn’t move, watching her instead. Waiting.

"Alright," he said eventually, "mind telling me what this grand plan of yours is?"

Elorie exhaled, rolling out her shoulders before turning to face him. "To do what I need, I need everyone to stop asking questions about where I am."

Damon huffed a dry laugh, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Yeah, no shit. That’s not a plan, kitten, that’s just wishful thinking."

She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "That’s where the spell comes in. Its a memory spell. Its going to make people forget about me. Temporary. Hopefully"

His smirk faltered.

"Come again?"

"Valerie already drew the border," Elorie continued, gesturing to the faint chalk lines along the road. Even in the dim glow of the car’s headlights, they pulsed with quiet power. "She set up the framework. Now we just need to cast it."

Damon stared at her, then dragged a hand down his face. "Tell me you’re not serious."

"Completely."

"You’ve lost your goddamn mind."

She shrugged. "Probably." Then, tilting her head, she extended a hand toward him, palm up, expectant. "Do you want my help opening your tomb or not?"

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Then, with a grumble, Damon reached out and slapped his palm into hers, fingers curling briefly around her wrist. "You’re going to owe me for this."

Elorie merely smirked before turning to Valerie, extending her other hand.

The older witch remained still, watching her with narrowed, unreadable eyes.

"You expect me to help you weave a memory spell over an entire town?" Valerie’s voice was sharp, unimpressed. “I thought you intended to cast it alone."

Elorie didn’t flinch. “Come on, you didn’t think you were here for your pretty looks now did you? You’re here to mask my magical signature so no one comes sniffing around for me. So Hand.”

Valerie’s mouth pressed into a thin line. "Let’s be clear about something," she said, voice laced with quiet venom. "I’m not here for you. I’m here because you’ve got my daughter’s life on a string, and I’m not in the habit of letting my kin be used as bargaining chips."

"Then I guess we both have reasons not to piss each other off."

A tense beat stretched between them as Elorie held her hand out..

Then, with a sharp exhale, Valerie grabbed Elorie’s hand, her grip like steel.

The moment their skin connected, the energy shifted.

The wind stirred, carrying the scent of wet leaves and lingering rain, rustling through the trees like something watching. The symbols along the border began to glow, their light flickering like dying embers.

Elorie inhaled deeply, feeling the magic stir in her veins.

And then—they began chanting.

The words poured from their mouths in a steady, rolling rhythm, ancient and unyielding, each syllable stitching itself into the fabric of the night. Valerie’s voice was strong, grounding. Elorie’s was sharp, unwavering. Damon’s—though reluctant—rumbled through the space between them, the bond of the spell tightening around them like a vice.

The air pulsed, thick with unseen power.

Elorie felt Damon’s grip tense, his breath hitching slightly.

The siphoning had begun.

His body stiffened as the magic drained from him, flowing through her like wildfire, raw and untamed. He gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening around hers as the pain laced through his limbs.

"Shit—" he growled, muscles locking under the weight of it.

But they didn’t stop.

Elorie held Valerie’s grip tighter, pushing the magic forward, weaving it through the chalk lines, pressing it into the edges of the town.

A low, pained groan tore from Damon’s throat as his knees buckled slightly. His breathing was ragged now, his fingers digging into Elorie’s wrist like he wanted to rip himself away—but she didn’t let go.

Not until it was done.

The final words left their lips, sealing the spell with a forceful snap.

The magic settled. The symbols dulled.

And Damon—

Damon stumbled back, bracing himself against the hood of the car, looking pale, shaken, drained. His head lolled slightly to the side, his breath coming in sharp exhales.

Elorie turned immediately, making her way to the trunk of the car.

Valerie scoffed.

"Look at you," the older witch muttered, crossing her arms as she eyed Elorie with cold disdain. "Like some well-trained little pet, hopping off to feed him now that you’ve taken your fill."

Elorie didn’t dignify it with a response.

She ripped open the trunk, pulling out the igloo cooler Valerie had prepared earlier. The faint scent of blood curled into the air the moment she unzipped it.

Elorie walked back over to Damon and shoved a blood bag into his chest.

"Drink."

Damon let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head slightly. "You’re a real sweetheart, you know that?" But he didn’t argue. He tore the cap off with his teeth, tipping the bag back with a slow, exhausted exhale.

Valerie watched, unimpressed.

"You’re playing a dangerous game, girl." Her tone was low, edged with quiet warning.

Elorie finally turned, her gaze meeting Valerie’s head-on.

"I’m not playing anything."

Valerie held her stare for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind her sharp eyes.

Then, with a knowing smirk, she leaned in just slightly, lowering her voice.

"Then I hope you know what your doing, child. Because the moment you stumble? Someone like me will be there to rip you apart."

Elorie didn’t blink.

"Then I won’t stumble."

A slow, amused hum rumbled from Valerie’s throat.

And with that, she turned away.

Elorie clenched her fists, exhaling sharply as she stared back toward the town.

The spell had been cast.

No one would remember she was gone. No one would be looking for her.

For the first time in weeks—she was free.

Elorie stood near the tree line, arms crossed as she watched the headlights appear in the distance. The night had deepened, settling thick and heavy over the forest, its darkness punctuated only by the distant flicker of fireflies and the quiet rustle of unseen things moving through the underbrush.

Damon had been gone just under an hour, and now, as he whooshed stopping before them, she felt something shift in her chest—something tense, expectant.

He grinned at her, looking significantly better than when he left, her rucksack slung over his shoulder with ease.

"Someone’s feeling refreshed," she mused, watching the easy way he moved now, all trace of his previous exhaustion gone.

Damon smirked. "Turns out a few pints of O-positive do wonders for a man."

She rolled her eyes but extended a hand for the bag, which he tossed to her with little fanfare. The weight of it settled solidly against her palm, and she unzipped it just enough to see the familiar spines of her grimoires, the bundled herbs, the vials of oil and crushed gemstones—everything she needed.

"So?" she asked, tugging the zipper shut again. "What was the vibe in town?"

Damon exhaled, leaning against the car, his expression unreadable. "Your little spell worked, kitten. No one’s looking for you."

There was something in the way he said it that made her pause.

"Of course it worked," she said breezily. "That was the whole point."

Damon didn’t immediately reply. Instead, he studied her, his lips pressing into something close to a frown.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Elorie tilted her head. "Obviously."

Damon gave her a look.

"No, I mean..." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to find the right words. "No one remembers you, Elorie. I asked Enzo, and he swears up and down he was rescued by Caroline. No mention of you."

Elorie stiffened, fingers tightening on the strap of the rucksack.

"Jenna doesn’t even remember you’re her kid."

A sharp pang shot through her chest, but she swallowed it down before it could take root. Instead, she shifted her weight and forced a nonchalant shrug.

"Technically, I’m not Jenna’s kid," she said, her tone offhanded, as if the words didn’t sting. "So it’s fine."

Damon didn’t look convinced.

But if he was going to push, she wasn’t going to let him.

"Just remember to keep an eye on Caroline," she reminded him, forcing the conversation forward. "And stay out of trouble."

Damon smirked at that, crossing his arms. "Oh, I most definitely will be staying in trouble, actually."

Elorie raised an eyebrow. "Damon—"

"Especially," he drawled, "since I happened to see my brother in town."

Her breath hitched, eyes widening. “You have a brother?"

“Didn’t I mention him?” Damon shrugged, but there was something else in his expression—something darker, something she couldn’t quite name. He continued, "that wasn’t the only thing I saw."

Elorie’s stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"

Damon tilted his head slightly, his smirk fading just a fraction.

"I mean, kitten, I think you might have a much bigger problem on your hands."

Damon leaned casually against the car, watching her with that particular brand of amusement that always meant he was about to drop something on her she wouldn’t like.

Elorie barely glanced up as she rifled through the rucksack, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything important. “What’s that?"

“I met your cousin in town thats what," Damon continued, "I think that might be something you want to pay attention to."

She huffed. "Elena’s a little annoying, sure, but nothing to turn the whole town upside down for."

Damon let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, Elorie. You’re adorable when you don’t know things."

That got her attention.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Spit it out, Damon."

He smirked, clearly enjoying the moment far too much. "You remember that friend I wanted you to help me get out of the tomb?"

Elorie straightened, crossing her arms. "Yeah. And?"

"Well..." He leaned in just slightly, voice dropping to something almost mockingly conspiratorial. "Her name’s Katherine."

Elorie’s stomach dropped.

"Katherine?" she repeated, blinking.

Damon grinned. "Oh, don’t look so surprised. You had your little secrets; I had mine." He tilted his head. "The kicker, though? Your cousin—sweet little Elena? Dead ringer for her."

Elorie’s fingers curled into the strap of her bag.

"That’s—" She shook her head. "That’s not possible."

Damon raised a brow. "Oh, it’s possible, kitten. It’s very possible. And it’s also very bad luck for your cousin. Because as it turns out, both Enzo and Klaus are looking for Katherine."

Her jaw tightened.

"What do you mean by that?"

Damon’s smirk dimmed just slightly, the humor in his eyes cooling into something quieter, more dangerous.

"I mean," he said smoothly, "you might want to wrap up your little mission because our deal doesn’t extend to me laying my life on the line for your entire family."

The weight of his words settled cold and heavy between them.

Elorie gritted her teeth, exhaling slowly.

"I didn’t ask you to."

Damon held her gaze for a long moment, then let out a mocking little sigh. "No, but unfortunately for you, I’m a sentimental bastard, and I actually like you. So let’s get one thing straight—if your cousin’s existence puts me or Katherine in Klaus’s line of fire, I’m not exactly gonna stand in the way of that train wreck. I'll serve her up like a fresh buffet."

Elorie clenched her jaw, the frustration curling hot beneath her skin.

"Damon," she said slowly, her voice careful, edged.

"Nope," he cut in, waving a finger at her. "Don’t you Damon me, Elorie. You asked for my help, I gave it. But if you think I’m going to get myself killed over some family drama that has nothing to do with me, you’ve got another thing coming."

Her fingers flexed against the strap of her bag.

"Fine," she said stiffly. "Then I guess I better wrap things up quickly."

Damon’s smirk returned, smug and knowing. "That’s the spirit, kitten."

Elorie inhaled slowly, forcing herself to push down the frustration simmering beneath her ribs.

Chapter Text

Elorie leaned against the open car door, arms crossed, watching Damon stretch lazily, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Try not to burn the whole town down while I’m gone," she quipped.

"No promises, kitten," he shot back with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small, reluctant twitch of her lips. "Just keep Caroline out of trouble. And let me know when you get your hands on that necklace."

Damon gave a two-fingered salute. "I’ll be sure to send you a postcard."

With that, she pulled the car door shut, and Valerie wasted no time peeling out of the gravel lot, tires kicking up a fine layer of dust in their wake.

The drive stretched long, the night unfolding around them in an endless blur of empty highways and flickering streetlights. A different kind of silence settled between them—not strained, not tense, but something watchful. Valerie kept her hands on the wheel, her sharp gaze fixed ahead, while Elorie stared out the window, the neon signs of gas stations and roadside diners passing like ghosts.

The road stretched long and dark ahead of them, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the quiet night. The silence between Elorie and Valerie wasn’t companionable—it was taut, weighted with all the things neither of them were saying. The hum of the engine and the distant chirping of insects outside the window were the only sounds filling the car.

Elorie exhaled sharply, resting her elbow against the window, fingers idly tracing patterns into the condensation. She turned her head slightly, not bothering to look directly at Valerie when she finally broke the silence.

"Where did you meet her?" The question was deceptively casual.

Valerie didn’t take her eyes off the road. "Who?"

Elorie hummed softly, unimpressed. "My mother."

A beat of silence. Then, with perfectly calculated disinterest, Valerie said, “I met her a few years back, she’d been traveling with a small coven, they were looking for objects that could hold a lot of magic,”

Elorie turned slightly, just enough to see the faint curve of Valerie’s mouth, the way her fingers flexed against the wheel—subtle, controlled, but not without meaning. Not without purpose.

"You just happened to cross paths," Elorie said, her voice quiet, almost amused. "And did she find those objects?"

Valerie’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk—a predator indulging prey, amused by the dance but never forgetting who held the advantage. "Something like that," she said, unhurried, deliberate. "We found a bracelet."

A flicker of something curled through Elorie’s chest, cold and restless, winding itself into the spaces between her ribs. A bracelet. Singular. Not the whole truth. But not a lie either.

The silence stretched, twisting into something tangible, something charged. Elorie could feel it now—the weight of what wasn’t being said, the things curled beneath the surface of Valerie’s carefully chosen words, waiting, watching.

"You don’t say," Elorie murmured, voice edged like a dagger sliding from its sheath.

Valerie tapped her fingers against the wheel—once, twice, a slow rhythm, measured, deliberate. A beat passing in which she gave Elorie time to prepare for whatever came next.

"You were wearing it when I first met you," Valerie said at last, her voice smooth as silk, sharp as steel. "Why are you playing coy now?"

Elorie’s breath came slow, steady, even as something flickered behind her eyes. “Then what?”

Valerie didn’t hesitate. "She moved on."

A pause. A beat of silence, stretched thin between them. The rain had started again, faint, barely more than a whisper against the windshield. Elorie watched the road unravel ahead, a ribbon of darkness and wet asphalt, endless and waiting.

"And the coven she was with?"

Valerie shrugged. A small, effortless motion, as if brushing away dust. As if brushing away the lives of people who had once mattered. "They didn’t."

Something cold curled in Elorie’s stomach. A slow, creeping thing, weaving itself into the spaces between her ribs.

Valerie didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. The words had already done their work, settling into the silence like nails into a coffin.

Elorie turned her head slightly, just enough to see Valerie’s profile in the dim glow of the dashboard lights—the sharp lines, the steady hands, the absence of regret in the set of her mouth.

"So much judgment for me," Elorie chuckled, the sound low, edged with something sharper. "But you were literally helping her bind my powers too. What kind of leverage did she have against you for that one?"

Valerie’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, just slightly, just enough for Elorie to notice. A tell. A fracture in that cool, impenetrable façade.

Elorie tutted, tilting her head as if contemplating something amusing. "Must not have taken much if you decided to bring your kid along for the drive."

The car remained steady, unwavering against the empty stretch of road, but Elorie saw it—the minute shift in Valerie’s posture, the way her knuckles paled just a fraction more.

Silence thickened between them, heavy, coiled, waiting to strike.

Then, softly, Valerie exhaled through her nose, a slow, measured thing, smoothing over the space where something volatile had almost surfaced. "You really do love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?"

Elorie smirked, letting the moment hang. "And yet, you’re still not answering the question."

Valerie said nothing.

Elorie hummed, shifting slightly in her seat, her fingers idly tapping against her thigh as if contemplating something casual, something insignificant. But her next words were anything but.

"So, back to Diana," she mused. "You helped her find my bracelet. You were trying to help her bind my powers. Do you know why she wanted to bind them?"

For a moment, there was nothing—just the sound of the rain, the low murmur of the tires against wet asphalt, the distant pulse of the highway stretching endlessly ahead.

Then—

"Because you're an abomination," Valerie said, her voice flat, void of hesitation as if stating the most mundane fact in the world.

Elorie’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly before she caught herself. "Wow, laying it on a bit thick, eh?" She let out a short, humorless laugh, but the weight of the word settled somewhere deep in her chest, sharp and cold.

Valerie’s gaze remained fixed on the road, unflinching. "The way you... steal magic, it’s disgusting," she said, her tone almost clinical. "When she found out you were trying to learn more about your magic—using it—she knew we had to stop you."

Elorie let the words settle, let them scrape against her ribs, let them carve themselves into the space between them like a scar that had never properly healed.

"So, what?" she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less sharp. "You thought I’d drain the world dry? Tear the magic straight from its bones?"

Valerie didn’t respond, but her silence was answer enough.

Elorie exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "And here I thought you just didn’t like me," she muttered.

Valerie’s jaw tensed, just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

Elorie turned her head, watching her, studying the sharp lines of her face, the way the tension sat just beneath her skin. "Tell me," she continued, voice low, curling with something close to amusement but tainted with something else—something colder, something older. "If I’m such an abomination, why didn’t you just kill me?"

The tires hissed slightly as Valerie took a slow, deliberate turn.

"Because Diana wanted you alive," she said simply.

But there was something in her tone—something unfinished.

Elorie leaned back into her seat, smirking to herself as she turned her gaze back to the passing night.

"Good thing for me, then," Elorie murmured, letting the words sit between them, unspoken implications threading through the dark like whispers through old stone. She studied Valerie’s profile, the way the passing streetlights carved shifting shadows across her face, the way she never once let her grip on the wheel slacken.

"So why does she want me alive?"

Valerie shrugged, a slow, deliberate thing, as if the answer were inconsequential. "Maybe she thought she could fix you," she said, voice smooth, calculated. "Maybe she still does."

Elorie let out a breath through her nose, an exhale that was neither amusement nor frustration but something settled in between. "Or maybe she just likes keeping things locked away when she doesn’t understand them."

Silence.

The rain thickened outside, droplets streaking against the windshield, the wipers sweeping them away in steady intervals. Valerie said nothing, and that in itself was an answer.

Elorie shifted slightly, stretching her fingers where they had curled into her thigh. "Do you know where she’s gone now?"

A beat. The faintest flicker of hesitation.

Elorie sighed, tilting her head back against the seat. "Right. So, we’re going to do this thing where I ask you a question, you lie, and I waste time threatening Nia. We both know how it ends." She turned her head then, her dark eyes meeting Valerie’s in the reflection of the rearview mirror. "Do we really have time for that tonight?"

Valerie’s grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly. "I think you underestimate the value of patience," she said coolly. "Or perhaps, you simply overestimate your leverage."

"Or," Elorie countered, "I know when someone is deliberately dragging their feet."

Valerie exhaled, slow and measured. "Diana prefers not to be found," she said at last, her tone clipped, as if speaking the words aloud cost her something. "She makes it a point to avoid staying in one place too long."

"Right. And yet, somehow, you managed to find her." Elorie’s voice was deceptively light, but there was an edge beneath it, sharp as glass. "So, how’d you do it?"

The older witch was silent for a long moment, the air between them thick with unspoken calculations. Finally, Valerie’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite a sneer.

"You assume I went looking for her," she said, her voice lilting with amusement. “Diana does whatever she wants, whenever she wants.”

Elorie stilled, fingers tightening slightly where they rested against her thigh. "Then she reached out to you."

Valerie didn’t confirm or deny it, but her silence spoke volumes.

"Why?" Elorie pressed, her voice quieter now, more controlled. "And don’t give me the generic 'for my safety' excuse. We both know she’s been content to leave me in the dark for years. What changed?"

Valerie’s gaze flicked toward her briefly before returning to the road. "You did."

The words sent a ripple of something uneasy through Elorie’s chest. She sat up a little straighter. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"You’re asking questions you never used to ask," Valerie said simply. "Digging in places your mother never wanted you to dig. And you aren’t subtle about it." She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel in thought. "Word travels, Elorie. It always does. And not just to Diana."

Elorie’s jaw tensed. "You’re saying other people are looking for me."

Valerie inclined her head slightly. "I’m saying you should be more concerned with who’s listening."

A slow, creeping sense of unease curled in Elorie’s stomach, but she forced herself to push past it. "So, what? You’re going to warn me off this too?" she asked, her voice laced with dry amusement. "Tell me some things are better left buried?"

"Some things are," Valerie said simply, her voice devoid of any real emotion. "But that’s never stopped anyone from digging, has it?"

Elorie scoffed. "You’ll have to do better than ominous threats. If she doesn’t have allies, then I could always ask Nia to check with Maddox, see if he knows any covens—"

"Don’t dare," Valerie snapped, cutting her off.

Elorie narrowed her eyes. "You’re getting real defensive for someone who apparently knows nothing."

A tense silence settled over them. Valerie’s jaw worked for a moment, then she exhaled sharply through her nose.

"There’s a bar in Georgia," she said, at last, her tone all business again. "Witches pass through sometimes. The owner might be able to help."

"Wow," Elorie drawled, "thanks for being so cooperative." Her lips curled into a slow, sardonic smile. Silence fell between them for a moment before she glanced out the window at the blur of trees rushing past.

Then, deliberately, she added, "I want to know about my dad too."

Valerie’s gaze flicked to her, unimpressed. "You want me to hold your hand and tell you the whole tragic tale, too?"

"Well, I’m curious," Elorie shot back. "Since you love your cryptic warnings, how about this—why don’t you tell me why my family’s connection to the Gemini Coven is so significant?”

Valerie went rigid.

It was slight—just a tightening in her shoulders, a sharp inhale—but Elorie caught it. She pressed.

"You already know more than you’re saying," she continued. "And if you won’t tell me, I’ll find someone who will. Maybe someone with deep knowledge of Mystic Falls’ supernatural past. I’m sure I can think of a name or two outside of Maddox. Vampires get pretty chatty when you help them."

"You’ll want to be careful with those threats, girl." Valerie’s fingers flexed against the wheel. "You think you want these answers, but have you stopped to think some things are buried for a reason?"

"I don’t care," Elorie said flatly. "I’m going to dig and poke until I find what I want."

Valerie let out a sharp laugh, humorless. "Your funeral."

Another silence stretched between them, thick and charged.

Finally, Elorie reached over and flicked the radio off, letting the quiet settle in like a living thing. Then, without a word, she started singing.

Soft at first, low and easy, the kind of melody one hums absently to themselves. It wasn’t for Valerie, wasn’t for anyone. Just something to fill the air, to remind herself that she was still here, still moving forward.

Valerie didn’t react. Didn’t turn the radio back on.

But she didn’t stop her, either.

They drove like that for the rest of the night.

The car cut through the darkness, a lone vessel adrift in an ocean of endless road and shadowed trees. The headlights illuminated the mist clinging to the asphalt, casting ghostly shapes that disappeared just as quickly as they formed. The rain had passed, but the scent of damp pavement lingered, mixing with the faint, sterile leather of the car’s interior. The world outside was silent, save for the hum of the tires and the occasional distant howl of wind through the trees.

Valerie’s hands rested lightly on the wheel, effortless, in control. The passing glow of streetlights painted sharp angles across her face—serene, focused, unreadable. She hadn’t spoken in miles, and neither had Elorie.

A sign flashed by on the roadside, its letters blurred in motion. Another town. Another mile further from where they started. But no closer to where they were going.

Then, a break in the dark—an oasis of fluorescence blinking against the emptiness. The gas station emerged like an afterthought, its harsh white lights cutting into the night, humming with the restless energy of things that never truly sleep. The artificial glow cast sharp-edged shadows against the pavement, the overhead bulbs buzzing, drawing in moths that fluttered erratically, their fragile wings beating against the glow like a futile prayer. The air carried the scent of hot asphalt, burnt coffee, and gasoline, thick and cloying, pressing in against the humid night.

Elorie leaned against the passenger door, head bowed, phone screen illuminating her face in a cold, sterile glow. She had reached out to one of Enzo’s contacts to check anything they could find online. She scrolled through the email he had sent back—endless, mindless swipes, fingers moving faster than her thoughts, searching for something. Anything. A clue, a mention, a trail of breadcrumbs leading to Diana Anders, to the woman who had abandoned her yet refused to disappear entirely from the narrative of her life.

Nothing.

No recent transactions. No last-known addresses. No new aliases.

It was like trying to chase down a ghost that had never wanted to be found.

Valerie stood a few feet away, leaning lazily against the car, her posture as effortless as it was deliberate. She wasn’t really looking at Elorie, but she wasn’t looking away, either. Instead, she watched the night stretch out beyond the lot, past the rows of parked semi-trucks, past the empty highway that led into the unknown.

"You think she left breadcrumbs just waiting for you to find?"

Elorie didn’t look up. Didn’t react. But she felt the words settle over her like an unwanted touch, something cold and knowing.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, thumb tightening around the edge of her phone. "Maybe. Maybe she wanted me to."

Valerie let out a slow, measured breath. Her lips twitched into something unreadable, not quite a smirk, not quite pity, just that same knowing look that made Elorie’s skin prickle.

"You don’t know Diana at all, do you?"

Elorie went still.

The buzzing of the overhead lights became deafening. The distant sound of an engine revving and pulling away felt suddenly far too close.

She forced herself to breathe, to swallow back the sharp coil of something dangerously close to humiliation, to resentment.

Her fingers clenched around the phone.

"I’m trying."

The words came out too fast, too defensive, a crack in the carefully measured control she had been trying to hold onto.

Valerie hummed, an almost amused sound, but there was something else beneath it—something quieter, something sharper.

"Trying?" she echoed. "You don’t want to know Diana, Elorie. You either survive her, or you don’t."

Elorie’s stomach turned. She hated how easily Valerie spoke as if she had more of a right to those memories than she did. Like she had been in the room, like she had been the one left behind.

Like she knew something Elorie didn’t.

She turned her gaze back to the screen, ignoring the ache behind her ribs, the bitter taste crawling up her throat. She wasn’t the only one with secrets though.

"Then I guess I’ll just have to do better."

Valerie huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t argue.

A breeze picked up, carrying the scent of wild earth, of distant rain, of something old and waiting.

Elorie shot a quick text to Damon, her fingers moving faster than her thoughts. The screen blinked back a confirmation, simple and efficient. She pocketed her phone, straightened her shoulders, and stepped back into the car, the door closing with a quiet, decisive click.

Valerie glanced at her, one brow lifting in silent curiosity. "Making plans?"

Elorie met her gaze through the dim glow of the dashboard lights, her smirk slow, deliberate. "Something like that."

Valerie hummed, amused but unimpressed, shifting the car into gear. The tires crunched softly against the gravel as they pulled away from the station, swallowed once more by the road, by the waiting dark.

Chapter Text

It was days later when they pulled into town.

The neon hummed above the entrance, casting an amber glow onto the cracked pavement as Valerie pulled the car into a parking spot. Bree’s Bar sat on the outskirts, nestled between an abandoned gas station and a road that led to nowhere. The kind of place where secrets were currency, and history was always watching.

The air was thick with the scent of old rain and cooling asphalt, the remnants of a storm clinging to the night like an unfinished thought. Beyond the hum of the sign, the world was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that suggested someone was listening. Elorie exhaled, stretching out her fingers against her thigh before reaching for the door handle. Hours in the car with Valerie had been exhausting. The older witch hadn’t spoken much after their last exchange, but her silence had been its own kind of conversation—one Elorie would pick apart later.

Her joints ached from the drive, from the endless miles spent circling thoughts she had no business entertaining. She rolled her shoulders, shaking off the stiffness, but the weight in her chest remained.

Inside, the bar was dimly lit, the scent of aged whiskey and burnt wood thick in the air. The low murmur of voices, the occasional clatter of pool balls, the flicker of candlelight on worn wooden tables—it was a place where magic lingered beneath the surface, waiting.

Bree stood behind the bar, radiating the effortless confidence of someone who owned the space she stood in. Dark curls framed her face, her sharp eyes scanning them with practiced ease before she broke into a knowing grin at Valerie.

"Well, well," Bree drawled, her voice rich with amusement. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Valerie returned the smile, albeit tightly. "You’re looking good, Bree."

Bree tilted her head in acknowledgment before her gaze flicked to Elorie. Her smile thinned. "I don’t serve minors."

Elorie shrugged. "I just want a Red Bull anyway." She slid into a seat at the bar, propping her elbow against the worn wood as she surveyed the room.

Satisfied, Bree turned back to Valerie, her voice taking on an easy familiarity. "Where’s Nia?"

Elorie didn’t have to look to know how carefully Valerie measured her response. "Off handling something."

Bree arched a brow, lips twitching in amusement, but didn’t press. Instead, she started mixing drinks, her hands moving effortlessly over the bottles, the rhythmic clink of glass and the soft pour of liquid filling the space between words.

Elorie feigned distraction, absently dragging a finger along the condensation on her glass, pretending not to listen as the two women fell into easy conversation. The lull of their voices wove into the atmosphere, blending with the murmur of the bar, the occasional scrape of a chair, the distant melody from a half-tuned jukebox.

Her phone dinged.

Glancing down, she unlocked the screen, thumbing a quick update to Damon. Made it to Bree’s. Valerie still being Valerie.

His response came swiftly. Bree’s good enough people.

Elorie frowned, tapping out a response. Can I trust her?

Damon’s reply was wry, almost lazy. As much as witches can be friends.

She rolled her eyes, shifting in her seat. Speaking of friends, how’s Caroline?

This time, the reply took longer, and when it came, she could almost hear the smirk in his words. Keeping the blonde out of trouble. But you wouldn’t believe the current development between your cousin and my brother.

Elorie wrinkled her nose, already regretting asking. Gross. Can’t you get him to date someone else? Elena’s Off Limits.

Damon sent back nothing but a thumbs-up emoji, and she could practically feel his amusement through the phone.

Shaking her head, she pocketed the device and let her gaze drift over the bar, cataloging the patrons with quiet efficiency. A man in the corner nursed a drink like it held the answer to his problems. A pair of women whispered in hushed tones over a table stacked with tarot cards. The energy of the place buzzed beneath her skin, old magic woven into its bones.

Elorie lifted the glass to her lips, expecting the usual bite of whiskey, only to stiffen as the taste hit her tongue. The burn was familiar, but underneath it—sharp, acrid, unmistakable—vervain.

She wrinkled her nose, setting the glass down with a pointed look in Bree’s direction. "You could’ve asked," she muttered, pushing the drink away. "No need to ruin a perfectly good drink."

Bree smirked, unbothered, plucking the glass off the counter. "Had to be sure," she said, pouring the liquid straight down the drain.

Elorie huffed but let it go, watching as Bree disappeared into the back to grab a fresh can.

With the bartender gone, her gaze slid toward Valerie, who was sipping at her own drink with the same measured ease she did everything else.

"This seems to be a hub for the supernatural," Elorie said lightly, studying the room again. The energy here was thick, woven into every corner, every shadow. It wasn’t just a bar—it was a meeting ground, a safehouse, a hunting ground.

Valerie nodded, not even pretending to deny it.

Elorie arched a brow. "So, you and my mom come through here often, then?"

Valerie froze, her drink hovering just shy of her lips before she knocked the rest of it back in one smooth motion.

Elorie hummed, unimpressed. "Hmm." She turned fully in her seat, propping an elbow on the bar as she fixed Valerie with an even stare. "Might I remind you that your daughter and I are magically linked? Which means anything that happens to me, happens to her."

Valerie tsked, setting her glass down with a sharp clink. "How could I forget when you won’t shut up about it?" she drawled.

Elorie’s smirk didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Just wanted to make sure you were focused on this mission." She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "When Bree comes back, I want us to focus this little reunion. I want to know where my mom is. The fast you connect me to her is the faster I release your kid from her observation job.”

Valerie didn’t respond. She simply held Elorie’s gaze, cool and unreadable.

“And you know, she’s probably having a great time. That guy I left her with” Elorie whistled, “Quite the looker. She wasn’t exactly sad with her task if you get my drift.”

Valerie frowned, and before the silence could stretch too long, Bree returned, setting a fresh drink in front of Elorie. "There, untainted this time," she said with a wink.

Bree leaned on the counter, folding her arms. "So, what brings you two all the way out here?"

Elorie didn’t hesitate. "I’m looking for a witch. Diana Anders."

Bree’s expression didn’t change, but something in the air did. A subtle shift, the kind that couldn’t be seen, only felt.

Bree kept her voice light. "And what do you want with Diana Anders?"

Elorie met her gaze, unwavering. "Just to talk."

Bree let out a small huff, shaking her head. "That’s really what you’re going with?"

Elorie shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. "It’s the truth."

Bree tilted her head, watching her for a long moment, like she was weighing whether or not that mattered. Then, she smirked.

"Alright, sweetheart," she said, pushing off the counter. "How do you know Diana?"

Elorie tilted her head slightly, choosing her words with care. "We’ve crossed paths before. She gave me a protective sigil once."

Bree let out a quiet hum, watching her in that way people did when they already knew more than they let on. "That so?"

Elorie just took a sip of her drink, letting the silence stretch between them.

Bree leaned against the bar. "She passed through here earlier this week, actually. She’s on the move—heading toward some little town in Virginia."

Elorie’s fingers tightened around her glass, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. "Did she say why?"

Bree’s lips quirked. "Checking on some pet project she has out there."

A pet project.

The words rang in Elorie’s skull, clanging against her ribs like something sharp and cruel.

Seriously? Was that all she was? A project? A thing to check in on like a half-forgotten experiment?

She took another slow sip, forcing down the swell of emotion curling in her chest. The whiskey burned, grounding her, anchoring her to the moment when her mind threatened to spiral.

"And did she mention when she was coming back here?" Elorie asked, voice smooth, composed. She was good at that—at pretending she didn’t care, that she wasn’t straining for every last scrap of information.

Bree grinned, a slow, knowing thing, and tipped her own glass toward the door. "Why don’t you ask her yourself?"

Elorie stilled. The ice in her glass clinked as she set it down with careful precision, her breath pressing against her ribs, tight and coiled.

She turned, her body moving before her mind could catch up.

And then she saw her.

Diana stood in the doorway, the dim light casting long shadows over her sharp features, the years between them doing nothing to soften the hard line of her mouth, the tight set of her jaw. She was dressed in dark, practical clothes—cloaked in the same effortless authority she always carried.

But it was her eyes that struck Elorie the most.

A hard, burning stare, filled with something bitter, something raw.

Anger.

Pure, unfiltered rage.

Elorie had imagined this moment a thousand different ways. She had wondered what she would feel, what she would say, what she would do. But standing here now, seeing that look on her mother’s face—knowing she was the reason behind it—

She laughed.

The sound bubbled up unbidden, sharp and delighted, like a spark catching fire.

Oh, she was supposed to feel something else, wasn’t she? Guilt? Grief? Fury?

But all she felt was glee.

Valerie turned in her seat, watching her with a mixture of amusement and something sharper—something wary. She looked at Elorie like she was insane.

Maybe she was.

Elorie rolled her shoulders, exhaling through her nose as she let the laughter settle into something softer, something dangerously close to satisfaction.

She turned back to the bar, picked up her drink, and took another sip before finally speaking.

"Well, well," she murmured, running her tongue over her teeth. "Mother."

Diana didn’t move, didn’t flinch. She simply stared her down, jaw tight, gaze cutting through the room like a blade.

Elorie smirked, tilting her glass in a mock toast.

"Miss me?”

Diana stepped forward, yanking Elorie up by the arm, her grip bruising, unyielding. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Elorie only laughed harder, the sound wild and reckless, spilling from her lips like something feral. "Oh, come on, Mommy Dearest. From the stories I’ve heard, it was rather tame compared to everything you have going on."

Diana’s eyes burned with fury, her breath sharp as she shoved Elorie back. "How did you even find them?" she hissed.

Elorie barely stumbled, rolling her shoulders, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in her shirt. "It’s the most delightful story." She tapped a finger against her temple, smirking. "See, when I broke your seals on my magic—and my memories—it all just sort of… flooded back to me."

Diana’s expression twisted with something close to disgust. Then her gaze snapped to Valerie, seething. "You were supposed to seal her magic. Do you even know what she’s done?"

Valerie, still seated, exhaled through her nose, sounding deeply unbothered. "Do I want to?"

Diana’s lips pressed into a thin, furious line.

Valerie huffed, shaking her head. "I tried warning you." She lifted her drink lazily, swirling the contents before knocking it back. "The little bitch is a lot stronger than I expected."

Elorie gave them both a mock bow, her smirk widening. "Why, thank you."

Across the bar, Bree raised a single hand, her expression tight with exasperation. "Before you lot all kill each other in my bar, I’d like to know what the little witch did."

Elorie grinned, teeth flashing like a blade in candlelight. She tilted her head toward Bree, relishing the moment. "Oh, it’s simple, really."

She took a slow step forward, the neon light glinting in her dark eyes, and let the silence stretch before finally delivering the punchline.

"I asked a friend to send my mother a message."

The words landed like a dropped match.

Valerie’s brow arched slightly. "And what kind of message are we talking about?"

Elorie laughed again, shaking her head. "Surely you didn’t think you were my master plan to find her, did you?" She tsked, amused. "You’re bait."

Her gaze flicked to Valerie, to Bree. "Nia’s bait. You—" she gestured toward Bree, flashing another smirk, "I just met you, and even you’re bait."

Finally, she turned back to Diana, something dark and knowing curling at the edge of her voice. "Any and everybody who’s ever even spoken to you is bait."

The bar went silent.

Bree inhaled through her teeth. Valerie muttered a curse under her breath.

Diana’s expression remained carved from stone, but there was a shift—a tension, a flicker of something beneath the anger.

Diana’s expression remained carved from stone, but something shifted beneath the surface—a crack in the foundation, a flicker of something brittle beneath the anger. Her lips parted, hesitation flickering in her eyes for the first time.

“You could’ve called—”

Elorie scoffed, her head tilting lazily, exhaustion creeping into her limbs like a slow tide. “You didn’t answer,” she murmured, almost amused by the absurdity of the thought. “You never answered.”

Diana inhaled sharply, her hands curling into fists. “And so you slaughter our family?”

Elorie blinked, slow and deliberate. Her body felt heavier than it had moments ago, as if the weight of the night had finally settled into her bones. She lifted her glass, watching the liquid swirl before taking another sip.

“Your family,” she corrected, her voice quiet but certain. She let the words settle between them before adding, “And technically, I used poison. Painless. They didn’t even suffer.”

Diana’s breath hitched, barely audible. “There were children…” The words were unsteady, unraveling at the edges.

Elorie lowered her glass, setting it down with more care than necessary, as if the movement required thought. “I was a child,” she said, softer now, the fire in her voice simmering into something steadier. She exhaled slowly, pressing her palm flat against the bar for balance. “I was your child. And you locked me away like an inconvenience. Like something you could just… erase.”

“Why?” Her gaze burned, searching, demanding. She didn’t sound angry anymore. Just tired.

"It got you here didn't it?" Elorie shrugged taking a deep drink from her Redbull. "Finally, you show up to speak to your child. It wasn't Sheila threatening me, my struggles at learning how to use my powers, or even being hospitalized for almost a month. This is how I finally got your attention."

Diana took a step forward, voice shaking.  “Was it to hurt me? To force me here?”

Elorie let the question hang in the air, her pulse thrumming slowly and thick in her veins.

"Because you weren’t going to stop," she murmured.

Diana stilled.

The exhaustion rolled through Elorie in waves now, a creeping haze at the edge of her awareness. She blinked again, slower this time, as if the world itself had tilted just slightly.

Still, she forced herself to smile, forced herself to lean in just enough that Diana could hear every word.

"If it wasn’t me, would you have used one of those other children you’re suddenly so weepy about?" Her voice was almost gentle now, featherlight, edged with something bitter. "To bring back Esther?"

Diana’s eyes flashed. Her breath hitched.

Ah.

There it was.

Elorie’s smirk barely held. "Didn’t think I knew, did you?"

Diana’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t deny it.

Elorie pushed off the bar, but the movement felt sluggish, her limbs weighed down by something unseen. The floor beneath her felt unsteady, as if the ground itself was subtly shifting.

“You don’t understand—” Diana started.

Elorie barked out a soft, breathless laugh, but even that felt slower, like it was pulling from a well running dry.

"Oh, but I do."

Her fingers curled against the bar, grip tightening slightly as she forced herself upright.

"I understand perfectly. Whatever twisted resurrection scheme you and your little cult have been playing with—she is at the center of it, isn’t she?"

The room pulsed—just once, just enough for Elorie to notice.

Something was wrong.

Diana’s face remained impassive, but Elorie saw the flicker in her gaze, the careful stillness, the way she was waiting.

Elorie’s smirk wavered. The floor felt farther away than it should have.

And that’s when she realized—

Her fingers twitched, a sluggish pulse of magic flickering at her fingertips before sputtering out.

The drink.

Her stomach turned.

She exhaled slowly, turning her gaze toward Valerie.

She wouldn’t have.

Would she?

A soft chuckle from Bree dragged her attention back. The woman was talking, the knowing grin on her face was unmistakable.

No.

No, no, no—

The room tilted.

Elorie tried to move, tried to sit up straighter, but her body wasn’t responding fast enough. Her fingers fumbled against the bar, weak and clumsy, like she was moving through water.

She had definitely been drugged.

A new presence settled beside her.

A shadow, a weight in the air.

Someone sat down. Close.

And then—

“That’s enough out of you I think,"

Elorie’s pulse slammed against her ribs.

That voice—

She forced her head to turn, her vision tunneling in and out of focus.

And then—

Everything went black.

Chapter Text

The chains dug into Elorie’s wrists, the cold bite of metal pressing against her skin like a brand. She could feel the spellwork woven into them, a pulsing, insidious thing designed to keep her magic caged, just like the symbols carved into the floor beneath her feet.

Diana stood before her, silhouetted against the dim light of the chamber, sleeves rolled up, patience fraying at the edges.

"Let’s try this again," she murmured, her voice smooth, deliberate. "How much do you know?"

Elorie exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders against the ache creeping up her spine. "Enough," she said, just to be difficult.

Diana’s expression didn’t change, but the air around them seemed to tighten. A flick of her fingers, and the sigils on the floor flared—heat, sharp and searing, crawled up Elorie’s arms, winding around her like invisible vines.

She clenched her jaw, biting back a hiss of pain.

"You’re going to want to be more specific," Diana said evenly.

Elorie gritted her teeth, head tilting back against the stone wall behind her. "And you’re probably going to want to be a better mother."

Diana’s fingers twitched, and the magic constricted, digging deeper.

Elorie let out a breathy laugh, shoulders trembling—not from pain, not entirely—but from the sheer absurdity of it. "Might be too late to start, me thinks" She glanced down at her burning wrists. 

The magic twisted, heat flaring under her skin. This time, Elorie flinched.

Diana stepped closer, gaze cold. "Who have you spoken to?"

Elorie sucked in a slow breath, forcing herself to meet Diana’s eyes, searching for something beneath that iron exterior. She had known this woman once, hadn’t she? Loved her, trusted her.

That version of Diana didn’t exist anymore.

Maybe she never had.

Elorie smirked through the haze of pain. “You look tired, Mother. Getting sloppy in your old age?”

Diana didn’t rise to the bait. “I asked you to stop using your magic.” Her voice was measured, and controlled. “You just, couldn’t listen. Who have you been talking to? How much do they know?”

Elorie tilted her head. “Who’s ‘they’? You sound paranoid.”

Diana exhaled sharply through her nose. “You really don’t understand the consequences of what you’ve done, do you?” She stepped closer, peering down at Elorie with something like disdain. “You thought I left you with Jenna because I hated you. Do you have any idea what I am trying to protect you from?”

Elorie let her head loll back against the stone, eyes half-lidded, feigning boredom. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea. But go ahead, enlighten me. You did always love a monologue.”

Diana’s lips pressed into a thin line, the only sign of irritation.

"You were reckless," she continued, voice edged now. "And now they know about you. Which means they know about…"

Elorie perked up, arching a brow. "Oh? What do these mysterious ‘they’ know about?"

Diana’s expression didn’t change, but Elorie caught the flicker of something in her eyes—calculation, hesitation. The moment stretched a second too long.

And there it was.

Elorie shifted slightly, the chains clinking as she leaned in, lowering her voice, weaving her words with quiet curiosity. "Tell me, Mother, was it always going to be this way?" She hummed as if musing to herself. "Did you always plan on locking me away, or did I disappoint you somewhere along the way?"

Diana exhaled through her nose. "It was never supposed to come to this. I was going to bring you home after your eighteenth birthday"

Elorie’s smirk deepened. "Oh? And what was it supposed to happen then? Where you going just to crack my head open and put some long-dead witch ancestor where I used to be"

Silence.

Diana turned slightly, pacing now, gaze distant. "We made a deal. The family, I agreed. I did my part.," she admitted, voice quieter. "A long time ago. You…there was only supposed to be one."

Elorie’s heart thumped hard against her ribs. She forced herself to keep her voice light. "One? One what? What was your end of the bargain?"

Diana stopped, eyes flicking toward her with something unreadable. "You were never supposed to be my problem."

The words landed with a sharp crack of realization, ice cold down Elorie’s spine.

"I was a trade." The statement was soft, spoken more to herself than to Diana. She let the words sit between them, stretching out, testing their weight. 

Diana didn’t deny it.

Elorie inhaled slowly, fingers curling against the chains. "Who did you trade me to?"

Diana’s jaw tightened.

Elorie’s mind raced, putting the pieces together as if the answer had always been waiting beneath the surface.

"The Anders family?" She said it deliberately, watching for a reaction. “The Gemini Coven?”

Diana stilled.

Elorie let out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "Is that why you tried to bind my magic? Why you keep me locked away in Mystic Falls? I wasn’t yours to keep, was I?"

Diana remained still, expression unreadable, but the silence stretched just a little too long.

Elorie’s breath came slow and steady, though she could feel the blood rushing in her ears. "You didn’t leave me with Jenna to protect me," she continued, voice softer now, almost reflective. "You left me because you were breaking some deal."

Diana’s fingers twitched at her side, the only betrayal of her composure.

Elorie let out a slow exhale, shifting slightly, the chains rattling as she adjusted her weight. "I have to admit, Mother, that’s low—even for you." Her voice carried no heat, just something wry, detached. "Selling your own child. What was I worth? What did you get in return?"

Diana’s jaw tightened. "It doesn’t matter."

"It matters to me ." Elorie scoffed. 

Diana’s gaze flicked toward her then, sharp and assessing. "What matters now is that they know you exist," she said coldly. "And they will come for you."

Elorie arched a brow, forcing lightness into her tone even as her stomach twisted. "And by they , you mean the rest of the Anders family? The Gemini Coven? Or are there even more of your old friends I should be concerned about?"

Diana’s silence was damning.

Elorie’s smirk widened, slow and knowing. "I should be thanking you, really."

Diana frowned, but Elorie only leaned in slightly, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. "Because for all your spells, your locks, your little magical cages—you never once thought to tell me why." She tilted her head. "And now, after all these years, you've handed me the truth yourself."

Diana stepped closer, voice low and lethal. "You don’t understand what you’re playing with, Elorie. You think you’ve won something by knowing, but all you’ve done is sign your own death sentence."

Elorie met her gaze, unflinching. "So dramatic," she murmured. "Is that why you’re torturing me? You really think I’m the problem here?"

Diana exhaled sharply. "You have no idea the cost of the magic inside you."

Elorie smiled, slow and sharp, despite the pain licking at her nerves. "I think I’m starting to."

The chains burned cold against Elorie’s wrists, their metal biting into her skin like a living thing, pulsing with enchantment, with intent. The room smelled of old stone and damp, of magic thick in the air like something rotting beneath the surface. The sigils carved into the floor glowed faintly, a cage not just for her body but for the power thrumming beneath her skin, waiting, restless.

“You think you’re clever,” she murmured, voice smooth as polished steel. “But you’re still here. Still bound. Still mine.”

Elorie exhaled slowly, head tilting against the stone wall behind her, as if she were tired as if this were all so terribly dull. But inside, something dark and electric slithered through her veins, curling in her chest, whispering against her ribs. The magic of the chains thrummed beneath her skin.

“You always did like pretending you had control,” she mused, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. “But let’s be clear, Mother—”

She flexed her fingers, feeling the weight of the spellwoven chains, feeling the magic within them.

“I’ve only been as trapped as I choose to be.”

Diana’s expression flickered—just for a moment. “Is that so?” she said lightly, but there was something else now, something sharper beneath the feigned amusement.

She lifted her hand. The symbols at Elorie’s feet flared, heat licking up her arms, winding tight as though the magic itself were coiling around her bones. It burned—not just her skin but something deeper, within her.

Another warning. 

"Then go on," Diana murmured, tilting her head. "Walk out of here. Let’s see what happens."

Elorie hissed through her teeth, the pain sharp, searing. But beneath it, something else, something deeper awoke— power . The spell in the chains thrummed, a river waiting to be tapped, to be pulled, to be stolen .

Her lips parted, breath shallow.

Her fingers curled around the chains above her.

She pulled.

Magic surged through her like fire rushing into her lungs, like drowning in starlight, like something vast and endless cracking open inside her. The spellwork that had been meant to bind her instead bent to her will, twisting, warping, folding itself into her veins. The circle on the floor sparked and faltered, its edges burning away as the magic turned against itself.

Diana took a step back.

Elorie let out a slow, measured breath, rolling her shoulders as heat licked at the air around her. The chains at her wrists hissed, metal glowing white-hot before crumbling, shards of molten silver dripping to the stone floor. The ropes at her ankles turned to ash, dissolving into nothing.

She lifted her gaze, meeting Diana’s eyes in the dim light, feeling the weight of this moment settle between them like an open wound.

And then, with all the unhurried grace of a queen reclaiming her throne, Elorie crossed her arms over her chest and smiled.

“Now,” she murmured, voice warm as silk, sharp as the blade between them, “do you want to have a real conversation? ”

Elorie backed away, her breath shallow, pulse hammering in her throat. Exit. She needed an exit.

Her eyes flicked across the chamber, searching for anything—a gap in the stone, a door left ajar, something she could break through—but there was nothing. Nothing but damp walls and the weight of old spells clinging to the air.

Her grandfather stepped deeper into the room, his presence swallowing what little space remained. The dim torchlight cast jagged shadows across his face, making him look even more like the monster in her memories.

"Well, girl?" he drawled, that deep, commanding tone sending a fresh shiver down her spine. A voice that left no room for disobedience.

Elorie clenched her jaw, fingers twitching at her sides. She could still feel the magic she had siphoned from the chains pulsing beneath her skin, coiled and waiting—but it wasn’t enough. Not for him.

She dropped her hand.

Diana collapsed to the ground, gasping, and when Elorie flicked a glance at her, she was shocked to see it—fear. Her mother, always poised, always controlled, took an instinctive step back.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Elorie turned her attention back to the man in front of her, her stomach twisting into knots.

His gaze flicked to Diana, his lips curling in something like disappointment, something like disgust.

"Half the clan dead," he mused, voice thick with condescension. "The other half scattered to the wind. And you, running around, chasing after this little thing like a dog chasing its own tail." He let out a slow, measured sigh before his cold, glinting eyes found Elorie once more. "I had to come see what became of my glowing investment ."

Elorie felt her breath stutter, her mind lurching at the weight of those words.

Investment.

Not family. Not child. Not even tool.

A thing. A possession. Something meant to be his.

OUT.

Her mind screamed for escape, her body tensing, every muscle primed for flight. But the walls offered nothing, no gaps, no weakness.

No way out.

That left only through.

And to get through…

She would have to go through him.

Elorie swallowed hard, forcing steel into her spine, into her limbs, into her breath. The fear curled in her gut like smoke, but she knew better than to show it.

If she was afraid, she had to make sure she was terrifying.

The old man looked at her. Not the casual, dismissive glance he had always spared her, the kind that saw through her rather than at her—but truly looked. His gaze swept over her, slow, deliberate, and searching, peeling back layers she hadn't realized were exposed, digging beneath skin and bone and the fragile remnants of her defiance.

Elorie hated it.

Hated the weight of his attention, the quiet certainty in his posture, as if he had already seen the ending to this story and knew she wouldn't make it out of the final page.

The air felt too tight, the chamber too small. Her ribs ached from where his magic had crushed her to the floor moments ago, and when she inhaled, it felt like her lungs weren’t pulling enough air. Her fingers twitched at her sides, aching for magic, for a way out, but her body was slow, unresponsive, like the room itself was pressing down on her, draining her of every last ounce of control.

And then—

He exhaled, long and slow through his nose, as if in deep contemplation. Then he turned to Diana, his lips curling into something that might have been a smirk if it wasn’t so empty.

"Maybe we placed our bets on the wrong girl after all, Diana," he mused, voice rich with something awful—something smug, something cruel. He spoke with the ease of a man recounting an unfortunate but inevitable loss, not one that carried consequence or regret, but one that had already been accepted, accounted for.

Elorie’s breath caught.

"I mean, whether it’s due to her stupidity or incompetence," he continued, rolling the words between his teeth, letting them settle, rot, "we’re closer than we’ve ever been to fulfilling Lady Esther’s divine will and ridding the world of all vampires."

Her stomach dropped.

Something inside her twisted, rotted, a cold, insidious dread clawing up her throat, sinking its teeth into the base of her spine.

“W-what do you even mean?”

Her mind lurched, trying to piece it together, trying to drag meaning from the words, from the way Diana stood there, frozen, something dangerously close to hesitation flickering behind her carefully composed face.

Lady Esther’s divine will.

Her skin prickled, her pulse drumming in her ears. Klaus’ deranged mother seemed to haunt her no matter where she went. Her eyes moved from her mother to her grandfather then back again the wheels turning in her head.

Her skin prickled, the air around her thick with the weight of a presence she couldn’t see, but could feel . Klaus’ deranged mother seemed to haunt her no matter where she went, weaving her influence through the cracks of Elorie’s life like roots twisting through a corpse.

But this—

This clearly wasn’t just about Esther wanting to back alive.

This wasn’t even about her.

She was nothing but a vessel. A pawn placed strategically on the board, not for her own importance, but for what she could take from Klaus.

A man she barely knew, yet was hopelessly entangled with, be it fate or divine intervention.

Her grandfather’s smile was slow, cold .

Not kind.

Not amused.

Elorie’s breath caught, her ribs tightening as if her grandfather’s words had reached inside her and wound around her lungs like an invisible hand.

"I know about you and the Original."

His voice was light, conversational—mocking. Like he was speaking to something beneath him, some little creature who had accidentally wandered too close to the edge of something vast, something far beyond her understanding.

"How he came to your rescue in New York."

The air inside her stalled, thick as tar.

New York.

Esther had tried to consume her, tried to absorb her entire essence, and through sheer dumb luck—sheer, dumb luck—Enzo had stumbled into a friendship, and the protection of Klaus  Mikaelson had extended to her.

And he had looked at her like he had already known her.

"How did you manage it, girl?"

Her grandfather leaned in slightly, his gaze glinting with something sharp, something hungry.

"I've been trying to put one of my witches by his side for decades."

Elorie’s spine went rigid.

Her stomach turned.

Her mind lurched, the walls of the chamber tilting for a moment before she forced herself still.

No.

She wasn’t some missing piece in the puzzle of Klaus Mikaelson’s immortal existence.

But her grandfather…

He thought she was.

He thought she had done something.

And that terrified her.

Elorie squeezed her eyes shut, just for a moment, just long enough to shove the thoughts back down where they belonged, to bury them in the pit of her stomach before they could start to breathe.

"He is not yours. He will never be yours." Emmeline’s words curled through her mind like a whisper, sharp as broken glass.

And yet—

And yet.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails pressing into her palms, desperate for something—anything—to ground her, to remind her that this body, this mind, this fear was still hers.

Her grandfather shifted, the movement slight, but she felt it, felt his gaze dragging over her, dissecting her reaction, cataloging every breath, every flicker of panic like he was taking notes on a failed experiment.

She exhaled slowly, carefully, smoothing the edges of her fear into something sharper.

Then she lifted her chin.

She forced herself to smile.

Something slow, bitter, cutting—not real, not kind, not afraid.

"You sound jealous."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Her grandfather laughed.

Low, quiet, a sound that curled around the dim room, rustling the edges of the shadows like something stirring awake.

And Elorie hated how much it made her shudder.

"Despite your mother’s embarrassing attempts to keep you from this life, you've been determined to consort with supernatural beings," he mused. "And now that you've been touched by Lady Esther, it seems you’re finally worth something."

The words slithered into her skull like oil, thick and suffocating. A shudder crept up her spine, but she locked her jaw, refusing to let him see it.

She wanted to say something cutting, something sharp enough to slice through the thick air pressing down on her, but her voice caught in her throat.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be real.

Yet here he stood, larger than the nightmare she had buried in the deepest parts of herself.

"Don't look so frightened, girl," he said, his tone smooth as old velvet. "I'm not going to kill you."

Her stomach twisted.

Not going to.

Not yet.

"You're still useful to us," he continued, casual, like he was discussing the weather. "So, Lady Esther wanted us to give you a choice."

A chill licked its way up her arms. Her fingers curled into fists.

"You bring us the moonstone," he said, watching her carefully. "And in exchange, she’ll release her hold on you. She’ll find another host. Your life can be your own."

Elorie’s breath stalled in her chest.

She didn’t—she couldn’t—trust a word he said.

And yet, for a split second, she imagined it.

A life where she wasn’t bound to something ancient and hungry. A life where she wasn’t being hunted, manipulated, forced into games she didn’t understand. A life where she could walk away.

She swallowed, throat dry.

"And if I don’t?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

His smile deepened, slow and knowing. "Then you are against us. And you know what happens to those who stand in our way."

Elorie’s heart hammered against her ribs, frantic, desperate. She could feel her magic stirring beneath her skin, but it was fragile, uncertain—nothing compared to the weight of his power pressing into the air around them.

"You can't work against me, girl," he said, voice soft now, almost indulgent. "You can kill them all, but you can't kill me."

He took a step closer, and she flinched before she could stop herself.

His gaze flickered with amusement.

"Now," he murmured, turning toward Diana, "if you’re done with your little tantrum—"

Diana barely hesitated before she scurried past him, up the stairs, her form disappearing into the darkness above.

Coward.

Elorie clenched her teeth, rage and fear clashing like a storm inside her.

Then her grandfather turned back to her, his small, beady eyes fixing on her like a wolf deciding how much longer to toy with its prey.

He raised a hand.

Elorie braced herself, but the force of his magic still slammed into her like a hammer.

She hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through her bones. The air ripped from her lungs. The floor was damp beneath her palms, the cold seeping into her skin, wrapping around her ribs like chains.

From above, he sighed, disappointed.

"I heard you were quite the little hellbeast," he mused. "And yet…" His lip curled. "Pathetic."

Elorie gasped, dragging in a ragged breath, her whole body trembling, her ribs aching from the force of his magic still lingering like phantom hands around her lungs.

Her grandfather crouched before her, one hand resting casually on his knee, his eyes cold with the kind of patience that came from knowing he had already won.

"We’ll be leaving now," he said, almost gently, as if he were offering her a kindness rather than delivering a sentence. "Enjoy what little time you have left, girl."

The shadows around him stretched, curling through the room like smoke, thick and smothering.

"But know this—" he murmured, leaning in just enough that she could feel the weight of his next words pressing against her skin. "This ends one of two ways for you."

The air felt like ice.

"By my hand," he continued, voice soft, deliberate, cruel. "Or by the Gemini Coven’s."

Elorie’s fingers twitched, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t force her limbs to work beneath the oppressive force of his presence.

"And I," he said, his lips curling into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t so devoid of warmth, "have far better plans for your pathetic little life than they do."

A shudder wracked through her, but she refused to look away, refused to let him see the terror writhing beneath her skin like a trapped thing.

He straightened, turning without another word, his footsteps unhurried, measured.

The creak of the stairs rang loud in the silence, each step echoing in her skull, sealing something final, something inevitable.

Then the door groaned shut.

The lock clicked into place.

And she was alone.

The damp air pressed against her skin, cool and stagnant, thick with the scent of old stone and something metallic, something decayed. The floor beneath her cheek was unforgiving, its chill biting into her bones. Every inch of her body ached, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow pit expanding in her chest.

Her breath shuddered out of her, unsteady, broken.

She had thought—God, she had thought—that she was getting close. That she was learning, piecing together the edges of whatever game she had been dragged into.

Hours seemed to pass before the door groaned open again.

Elorie stirred, dragging herself upright, the cold bite of metal against her wrists rattling in the silence. Her limbs were stiff, her body protesting every movement, but she pushed through it, bracing herself for whatever fresh hell was about to walk through that door.

The steps creaked under the weight of approaching figures. Valerie. That was the first face she saw as she descended the stairs, her expression unreadable, her gaze skimming over Elorie without any real urgency.

But she wasn’t alone.

A second figure followed, moving with deliberate, feline ease, and the moment Elorie’s gaze settled on her, her breath caught in her throat.

It was like looking into a distorted mirror.

Not an exact copy—no, that would be too simple, wouldn’t it?—but enough to unnerve her, enough to send a sharp pulse of confusion thrumming through her chest.

The girl was taller, fuller in frame, her curls longer, glossier, framing a face that was unmistakably familiar. The same high cheekbones. The same sharp, knowing smirk that played at the corners of her lips.

And when she moved, closing the space between them, it was with an easy confidence, like she had been waiting for this moment her whole life.

Elorie barely had time to react before fingers seized her chin, sharp and commanding. The girl tilted her head, scrutinizing her as if inspecting something that had been left to wither, something unfinished.

Then, with a grin that sent ice curling down Elorie’s spine, the girl released her just as abruptly, pushing her face away with an almost dismissive flick of her wrist.

Elorie stumbled, blinking hard, her thoughts struggling to catch up.

And then—

"They really weren’t lying." The girl’s voice was smooth, rich with amusement, something dark curling at the edges. "We really do look alike."

Elorie’s pulse roared in her ears as the girl took a step back, her movements lazy, self-assured, like she had already won whatever game they were playing.

And then—

"Hello, little sister."

Elorie froze.

Her heart stopped, stuttered, then slammed into motion again.

Sister.

The word clawed through her like a curse, like something rotted and unwelcome settling deep into her bones.

Sister.

She wrenched her gaze to Valerie, searching for an answer, a denial, something, but the woman only watched, impassive as if this had been written in the stars long before Elorie ever learned how to fight back.

Chapter Text

The girl didn’t introduce herself. She didn’t offer so much as a name, a title, or a single scrap of identity before she reached forward, fingers pressing against Elorie’s temples with an eerie, practiced ease. Elorie barely had time to brace herself before it hit—an invasion, a sick, writhing thing seeping through her skull like oil, thick and cloying, sliding against her thoughts, coiling around them.

She fought.

Tried to slam her mental walls shut, tried to shove the magic out, to push back, to fight—

But she was too weak.

Too drained.

And the girl’s magic was strong, moving through her mind with a slithering, greedy ease, peeling back memory after memory, rifling through the fragments of her life like pages in a book.

Elorie bit her lip hard, trying to focus on anything else, trying to think of walls, of iron doors, of locked safes, of nothing—

But then the girl hummed, delighted, and withdrew.

Her hands clapped together, light and mocking.

"Oh, this is just delightful, Ellie," she purred, her voice dripping with amusement. "You really did meet an Original Vampire. And my, oh my—wasn’t he delicious."

A slow sickness bloomed in her gut.

A fresh surge of rage crackled through her nerves as she fought against her restraints, chains rattling, breath ragged. The girl only laughed, a sound rich and pleased, as if Elorie’s anger was precisely what she had hoped for.

"Oh, don’t be like that, little sister," she chided, her tone syrupy sweet, yet sharp enough to cut. "You were thinking it too." She stepped back, folding her arms, her smirk widening as if she had won something.

"Those taut muscles," she continued, dragging the words out slowly, savoring them. "That chiseled jawline. Those piercing blue eyes." She licked her lips, eyes gleaming. "I don’t know why you ran back here. Revenge certainly isn’t worth it. You should’ve stayed by his side. I bet he would’ve let you if you asked."

Elorie said nothing. She refused to give her the satisfaction. But the girl had already seen. Already knew. She tilted her head, gaze glinting like a cat toying with its meal.

"I saw it all in your head," she teased, her voice sing-song. "You wanted to kiss him."

Elorie jerked against her chains, but the metal held firm.

"I get it," the girl continued, almost dreamily, as if lost in the very thoughts she had stolen. She seemed to drift for a moment, lost in her own musings, fingers tapping idly against her hip. Then, just as quickly, she snapped back to focus. “What I don’t get is why you.” The girl lifted Elorie's chin, taking in her features. “Hrist could’ve easily chosen me. I’d be far more receptive to their gifts. So why you?”

Elorie dragged her breathing into something even, even as her muscles trembled, even as the girl’s touch left a sour, ghostly imprint across her skin. She didn’t look up. Didn’t move. Didn’t give her the pleasure.

The girl waited. Her shadow flickered against the far wall, long and lurching, restless with expectation. When Elorie said nothing, did nothing, a sharp noise cut the room—a click of the tongue, impatient and petulant.

“You’re no fun,” the girl whined, voice curling like smoke. She dropped her hand from Elorie’s chin, wiped it against the fabric of her skirt as if she had touched something dirty. "I give you a chance to scream, to cry, to beg —" she sighed, dragging the word out, making it almost tender, almost sweet, "—and you just sit there. How dull."

Elorie blinked slowly, deliberately. A mirror without reflection. A wall of silence so complete it nearly shook with the force of her restraint. The girl prowled around her now, footsteps a lazy circle. The chains rattled faintly with each turn of the wheel, the tension coiling tighter.

"You know," she said, her tone brightening, like she was sharing a secret, "I could peel you apart like an orange. Memory by memory, nerve by nerve. I could find your worst fears. Make you live them. Make you choke on them."

Still, Elorie said nothing. Still, she refused her. The girl stopped behind her. Close enough that Elorie could feel the heat of her breath against the shell of her ear.

"You think if you’re silent, you’re winning?" she murmured, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. "You think if you sit there like a pretty little corpse, it’ll save you?" She laughed then—a soft, broken sound that crawled under Elorie’s skin and scraped at her ribs. "You’re not strong, Elorie. You’re just... delaying the inevitable."

Elorie closed her eyes again. Imagined the ocean. The sound of waves, of gulls, of salt threading the air. She would not give her sister the moment she craved. Would not let her break open the last places Elorie still had left.

A sharp tug came on her necklace. Fingers yanked at the cord until it snapped, the enchanted seashell falling to the ground with a soft, traitorous clink.

"Oh," the girl said, all mock concern. "Was that important?"

Elorie felt something sharp lance through her chest—grief, rage, terror—but she forced it down. Swallowed it like a glass. The girl stepped in front of her again, dangling the broken necklace from one finger.

"Ellie, Ellie," the girl crooned, twirling the shell between her fingers like it was nothing more than beach trash. “You’re so fascinating , honestly. Everything is going on in that pretty little head. I could spend weeks digging around and barely scratch the surface.”

She tilted her head, smile curling in an almost tender way—if not for the gleam of cruelty behind her eyes. “You don’t even know what you have . You’re walking around with a weapon in your chest and still trying to be a little girl playing pretend.”

Elorie didn’t move. She couldn’t not with her heart hammering against her ribs and her limbs locked in that awful stillness that came from trying not to cry. The broken ends of the necklace cord tickled her collarbone, and the loss of it made her feel exposed. The girl’s voice had turned to velvet now, soft and cloying as rot.

“Do you know how easy it was to make you believe she didn’t care?” she whispered, tracing invisible sigils into Elorie’s forearm. “One blocked number. A few missing voicemails. And you filled in the rest, didn’t you? With all that grief and abandonment and that precious little imagination of yours. You made yourself an orphan when you were just… forgotten .”

Elorie’s throat burned. She bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

“You think you’ve clawed your way into some destiny, but you’re still just what you were born to be,” her sister murmured, circling behind her again. “You’re made to be used, Ellie. And you know that. Because deep down, you can feel it. You’re not the hero. You’re going to be the source of our power. Just a defective little witch. A disgusting siphon. A pretty little battery.”

And then, from somewhere above them, the sounds turned. Not just footsteps anymore— fighting . A low thud, the crash of something heavy splitting against a wall. Elorie’s sister glanced up and tutted, as if annoyed by the interruption of an otherwise charming playdate.

The door slammed open. Diana stumbled through, blood smeared along her temple, hair matted and wild. Her coat was torn at the sleeve, one arm braced against the doorframe. She looked between the girls— her daughters —with something between horror and disbelief.

Air caught in her throat, but the girl didn’t flinch. She tilted Elorie’s chin up with a single finger and smiled. “ Hello, Mother. ” Her voice was sugar-laced venom. “Nice of you to join the family reunion. All that’s missing is Dad .” She turned back to Elorie, her grin deepening. “But don’t you worry about that, little sister,” she whispered. “ We’re working on it. ”

Elorie recoiled, a low hiss tearing through her teeth. Her chest burned. Diana’s face paled.

“We have to go,” Diana said, her voice cracking like something barely held together.

“I was just getting started,” her sister sing-songed, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

Diana strode forward and grabbed her arm, fingers digging in. “ Olivia . They’re here. Vampires . For her.”

Her sister, Olivia, blinked, and then her mouth curved again, delighted. “Is it Klaus?” she asked, almost breathless with curiosity. She leaned back slightly to catch Elorie’s reaction. Elorie’s jaw clenched. Something dark flared in her expression, and for a split second, Olivia looked euphoric.

“Liv,” Diana said sharply, eyes flicking toward the stairwell where the sounds of combat were escalating. “ Now. ”

“Fine, fine,” Olivia sighed, dramatic as ever. “There’s a back door through the lab. But I swear, every time I try to bond with my dear sister—”

“ Move .”

Diana gave Elorie one last glance—wistful, fleeting, and full of something that almost looked like an apology—but then she was gone. Olivia followed, her laughter echoing faintly behind them.

Elorie stood frozen, the silence that followed somehow louder than the noise had been.

And then—footsteps. Quick, urgent.

Valerie.

She burst through the same door Diana had, eyes sharp, heels clacking with purpose. Her gaze swept the room, landed on Elorie, then the remnants of the chains, and the haze of siphoned magic still clinging to the air.

Without a word, she crossed the room and knelt beside Elorie. Her fingers moved to the lock, inspecting it with brisk, precise movements.

“Elorie,” she said quietly, “you’re safe now. They’re fighting their way down. Damon’s leading. Enzo’s…” A pause. “ Very upset.”

Elorie didn’t respond. Her hands were still trembling. Her pulse roared in her ears. Valerie worked faster. “We don’t have much time. Let me get you out of this before he sees the condition you’re in. I have no interest in him going feral again .”

The lock snapped open with a click.

Elorie swayed forward into Valerie’s arms, barely catching herself. She didn’t feel safe. Or saved. Just empty . Like her mother had come and gone like a storm, and left the wreckage behind. And now she was again left with more questions than answers. For all the work she had done to bring the Anders coven to the table, she had learned even less about their plans for her. 

Maybe she should’ve just killed them.

Rage filled Elorie’s chest, raw and molten, rising like a tide she could barely hold back. None of this had gone the way she expected. She came looking for answers. Instead, she was chained. Invaded. Unmade. And now, discarded. Her wrists ached, breath ragged, body trembling from too much magic and not enough mercy. 

Elorie staggered to her feet, legs trembling under her own weight. The floor spun for a moment — a dizzy, nauseating whirl — but she gritted her teeth and locked her knees, willing herself steady. Get up, she ordered herself. Get up. Don’t let her see you crawl.

The door at the top of the stairs burst open with a sharp crack.

Footsteps thundered down, fast and deliberate, until Enzo appeared—blood streaked across his jaw, a dark gash above one brow, eyes blazing. He stopped dead at the sight of her. Elorie, unchained but not upright, swaying where she stood, arms limp at her sides like broken wings unable to meet his eyes. Valerie moved aside without a word.

“Ellie,” he breathed.

Her name fractured something in her. She hadn’t heard it said like that in so long—like she mattered. Still, she said nothing. Enzo froze for a second too long. His hands clenched—like he didn’t know whether to shake her or hold her. Then he stepped forward and did both—gripping her arms, hard enough to anchor, gentle enough not to break. Enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. His jaw clenched, eyes scanning her face, her wrists, the bruises forming like secrets under the surface.

“What the hell did they do to you?” His voice was low. Dangerous.

Elorie tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not after everything. Not when he wasn’t even supposed to remember her. And yet—he was here. He came for her.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she sobbed, her voice cracking. “You weren’t supposed to remember—”

“I remembered ,” Enzo snapped, pulling back just enough to cup her face, his thumb brushing a smear of dirt from her cheek. “Of course I remembered. It took a few hours. Klaus called. Asked if I’d checked on you. The second he said your name, the whole thing unraveled. After I beat the shit out of Damon to find out where you’d gone off too I came to get you.”

Something in her curled in on itself. She had meant to disappear—not permanently, just enough to buy herself space, silence, safety. But of course, he would call. Of course, Klaus would be the one to break it. She hadn’t really thought about what if he called Enzo, she’d assumed he’d naturally want to keep her little task secret yet now.

She swallowed. “What about Jenna?”

“I left her be,” Enzo replied. “Figured I’d wait to hear from you first.”

Elorie shook her head, tears slipping down her face. “I thought I could handle this on my alone.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “And instead, you nearly got yourself killed. Klaus and I are handling this, why can’t you just… go be a teenager. Let us deal with this.”
Damon appeared in the doorway behind Enzo, bloodied but wearing that crooked, infuriating grin—smirking through exhaustion like violence was just his afternoon hobby.

“Ellie-bear,” he drawled. “You’d never guess what I found upstairs.”

And then he threw the old man down the stairs.

Elorie gasped as the body tumbled—limbs awkward, a splash of blood trailing behind. Her grandfather—Elijah—landed hard at the bottom, groaning. His once-pristine white shirt was soaked red, and he pushed himself up with a dignity that no longer fit him.

She didn’t know it was possible for him to look so small .

The man who used to command silence with a glance. Who made her practice her spells until her nose bled. Who said power was purity, and love was for the weak. Now wheezing on the floor, blood streaking his cheek, magic sputtering around his fingers like static.

He looked up at her with a mix of loathing and something close to fear.

Damon strolled down the stairs like he had all the time in the world. “Fed him a little vampire blood,” he said casually, brushing off his sleeves. “So if he dies in the next…” he checked a nonexistent watch, “say, ten minutes? We get to welcome Grandpa to the eternal bloodsucking retirement home.”

Elorie’s eyes flew wide. “Damon—”

“One wrong move,” he said with a wicked smile, “and it’s eternity, Gramps. No pension. Just fangs and guilt.”

Her grandfather snarled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Damon raised a brow. “Oh, I would . And she knows it.”

Nausea curled sharp and sour inside her.

She turned on the old man, her voice trembling with something she didn’t want to name. “Was I part of a deal?”

He looked up at her, eyes glassy, blood drying at the corner of his mouth.

“What bargain did the Anders Coven make with the Gemini?”

For a moment, he said nothing. Just breathed in sharp, rattling huffs like the truth itself cost him air.

Then he wheezed out a laugh—and coughed blood as he did.

Damon’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, hard. The old man winced, teeth bared in pain.

“We traded them an artifact,” he rasped. “In exchange for the product of a union between the families.”

“A union?” Elorie repeated, confused.

Damon tilted his head, tone dry. “He means they traded for some baby batter.”

Elorie scrunched her nose. “And… my father?”

Her grandfather’s eyes went dark.

“Your father,” he spat, “was supposed to be a reputable heir of the Gemini Coven. A controlled vessel. Strong blood. Instead your foolish mother went and fell in love with a madman.” His voice curdled at the end. “And worse—she bore twins . Carried his curse.”

The words hit like a spell to the chest.

Elorie staggered back a step.

“She was never meant to choose him ,” the old man seethed. “We had a plan. We had a prophecy. She tainted everything.”

“Elorie,” Damon said softly, warning in his tone, his hand tightening on the old man’s shoulder again. “Breathe.”

“Is that why she’s so afraid of you?” Elorie whispered. “Why she sent me away?”

Her grandfather let out a low, ragged breath—half a laugh, half a cough. “Because we thought you were a failure.”

The words punched the air from her lungs.

“If we’d known you were Hrist’s, I’d have had you merged,” he went on, eyes glinting, “—mind to mind, bone to bone—with your sister before either of you could scream.”

“ Merged? ” Her voice shook. “What is that?”

“Something that should’ve been done before you got ideas in your head,” he spat. “It would’ve solved everything.”

It twisted something low in her, but she swallowed it down. “What does that mean?” she asked, stepping forward. “What were you going to do to me?”

He stared at her then, gaze cold and sharp enough to draw blood.

“You were a mistake,” he said. “A complication. Your mother should’ve never carried you to term. Twins—especially with his blood—she doomed us all.”

Damon shifted beside her, jaw ticking.

Elorie’s voice cracked. “So you were going to kill me?”

“I should have ,” he growled.

There was a sickening crunch —Damon’s hand clamped down hard on the old man’s shoulder, a snap like brittle wood breaking underfoot. Elijah cried out, folding slightly.

“ Try again, ” Damon hissed. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

But he said nothing more. Just glared at Elorie through gritted teeth, his breath ragged, his silence laced with venom.

“That’s enough of him,” Enzo said tightly, his voice like the snap of a blade being sheathed. “Let’s get her to the car.”

He didn’t look back.

“Damon,” he added, already slipping an arm around Elorie’s waist, “take out the trash, won’t you?”

Damon gave a silent nod, his expression unreadable. Enzo guided her up the stairs—firm, steady, his touch careful but unrelenting. Elorie didn’t resist. She couldn’t. Her body felt distant, like something borrowed.

Behind her, she heard it. A guttural scream—raw, wet, inhuman. Then the sharp, acrid scent of burning flesh curled into the air, hot and metallic. Her shoulders jerked involuntarily. Her feet stuttered on the step. Enzo held her tighter, but said nothing. She tried to shut it out—the sounds, the smell, the image of what Damon was doing. But it burrowed into her chest anyway, coiling tight in the hollow space that had opened there.

She didn’t feel relief. Just… empty.

Damon slid into the front seat, stretching out like he hadn’t just set someone on fire. He glanced at Valerie, who sat rigid behind the wheel, hands clenched too tightly on the steering wheel. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t look at anyone. Just stared straight ahead like she wanted to drive into the next century and never look back.

“We can stop in Richmond,” Damon said casually, like it was any other road trip. “Gas up. Let her get some sleep somewhere that doesn’t reek of death.”

Valerie said nothing. Elorie didn’t care. Her body was too heavy now, her mind too slow. The adrenaline had drained out, leaving her hollow. Quiet. She curled sideways, resting her head in Enzo’s lap. He didn’t flinch. Just exhaled softly and carded his fingers through her hair, slow and steady.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured—not because he thought she believed it, but maybe because he needed to say it.

She didn’t answer. Enzo’s hand stayed in her hair. Valerie’s silence thickened. Damon cracked a window. None of it mattered. Her eyes closed. Her body folded inward. But sleep didn’t feel like peace. It felt like falling.