Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

❝Five girls, a hidden secret... and the bitter price of love❞

────✧────

The night wind whispered through the ancient trees, carrying the weight of sorrow and urgency.

In the clearing, bathed in the silver light of the moon, a towering man knelt before his five daughters. Shoulders once strong now bent under the burden of despair.

The girls stared at him with eyes full of confusion and fear. The air vibrated with magic, thick enough to raise goosebumps and leave a metallic taste on the tongue.

He, known for his strength and wisdom, seemed aged beyond his years. His trembling hands touched their delicate faces, as if he wanted to engrave every feature into memory.

— My loves... — he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. — I need you to listen to me. Danger is near, and I cannot allow it to reach you.

The girls exchanged uncertain glances.

Scarlett, the eldest, ten years old, tried to be brave and stepped forward:

— Father, you’re scaring us... What’s happening? Is this some kind of test?

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and replied:

— There’s no time for explanations, my Little Cherry. Trust me. You must forget... you must forget who I am.

Elena, nine, furrowed her brow:

— We can’t. You’re our daddy.

— I know, my precious... But I—

Caroline, eight, interrupted, tears streaming down her face:

— Don’t you love us anymore?

The question hit him like a blade.

— That’s not it, my sunshine. — His voice broke. — I love you with my life.

Bonnie, seven, threw herself into his arms, wrapping her neck tightly:

— Then don’t be sad, Daddy.

He wept in his daughter’s tight embrace.

— Don’t worry, my little sky...

Mei, the youngest, six, joined the collective hug:

— Don’t cry, Daddy!

He kissed the top of their heads, one by one, as if it were the last time.

— It’s all right, wǒ de xiǎo tiānshǐ. Daddy’s just a little emotional.

Then he raised his hands.

Golden light burst from his palms—thick and radiant, like liquid honey. Luminous threads extended to each daughter’s forehead.

They screamed. Not in pain, but in loss. As if something vital had been torn from inside them.

The loving glances in their eyes faded, turning glassy and vacant. One by one, the girls collapsed unconscious onto the soft grass.

The man lowered his head, broken.

— I love you... I hope one day you can forgive me. You will be safe. I promise I will return.

With one last look, he opened a portal.

On the other side, Sheila Bennett—grandmother to one of the girls—opened the door with a serene smile. But her expression shifted to concern when she saw the man carrying five unconscious children.

— Sheila... — his voice was steady, yet full of sorrow. — I need you to take care of them. I trust you. Protect them.

Sheila frowned, feeling the dark magic in the air. There was no time for questions.

— I will do whatever is necessary.

He handed her the daughters, tasting a bitter relief. And before he could falter, he whispered one last spell.

In Sheila’s mind, his very identity became a blur. She would remember her duty to protect the girls, but not him. Another layer of protection.

Weary, he stepped away.

With a gesture, he channeled his magic. The night sky seemed to tremble as an invisible dome descended over the city. Part of his life force anchored into the barrier, locking him out.

The weight almost crushed him.

But before he vanished into the shadows, a figure appeared.

A woman.

Her eyes glowed like embers. Her slow, cruel smile offered no comfort.

— Always so dramatic... building walls to protect your little treasures. — Her voice was melodic, yet poisonous. — The threat you fear doesn’t only want to make you suffer. It wants to destroy your daughters.

He froze.

— Who are you?! — he tried to see beyond the shadows, recognizing an ancient, familiar presence.

The woman stepped forward. Her black gown billowed like smoke.

— Haven’t you learned anything, little brother? The greatest threat to a garden doesn’t come from outside. It comes from the weed you planted yourself.

He snarled:

— I am not afraid of you! Show yourself and face me!

She smiled.

— Oh, you will have your chance... I’ll see you around.

And she dissolved into shadows.

Alone, he looked at the protected city. At his daughters, safe.

But he felt the crushing weight of the truth: he had built walls against the world... without realizing the real danger had always been by his side.

❝As the night swallowed the clearing, one truth remained: the past never stays buried❞

────✧────

Wǒ de xiǎo tiānshǐ: My little angel. (Translator’s note)

Chapter Text

The sun was rising over Mystic Falls, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange that gently spilled over the Bennett house. It was as if nature itself blessed that home with a new beginning — a warm whisper of light passing through the windows, settling delicately on walls filled with stories, spells, and memories.

Inside, the welcoming aroma of fresh coffee and the golden promise of pancakes floated through the air like a silent spell, drawing sleepy smiles to the lips of the five girls who, still stretching in their rooms, knew the day was beginning with love.

For Scarlett, at eleven; Elena, at ten; Caroline, at nine; Bonnie, at eight; and Mei, at seven, living with Grandma Sheila was like inhabiting two worlds: that of daily simplicity and that of sacred magic. A symphony of routine and small enchantments.

Since their arrival, Mrs. Bennett had established a serene and magical order that blended the mundane with the extraordinary. They were girls, yes — with backpacks, homework, and heated arguments over who would use the bathroom first. But they were also heirs to an ancient lineage, and the gift, or perhaps the curse, of power pulsed deep in their hearts.

— Girls, breakfast! — Sheila called from downstairs, her voice warm and full of love. The sound traveled through the house like a familiar melody, and the home came alive.

Caroline, with her sparkling energy, was already up, making her bed with almost artistic precision — there was something therapeutic in the order she created around herself. She was light in motion, savoring beauty in every gesture.

In the kitchen, the table was set like an altar of the everyday. Bonnie was already in her seat, a sketchbook before her and a pencil dancing between her fingers. Her focused gaze was that of quiet joy — drawing was where she found herself, where everything made sense.

Elena, sitting beside her, watched her sister with that thoughtful sparkle only writers carry. She loved telling stories, weaving feelings into words, capturing the moment, and making it live forever on imaginary pages.

Scarlett, more serious but with a gentle smile, helped Sheila serve the pancakes. She carried on her shoulders the natural instinct to protect — there was in her the shadow of the responsibility of a father who once loved them all more than eternity itself.

Mei, still wrapped in the haze of sleep, swung her feet beneath the table in an almost invisible rhythm — as if she were dancing even when she wasn’t.

— Remember — Sheila said, looking into each of their eyes with sweetness and firmness — magic only after chores and lunch. And only with supervision.

It wasn’t a severe warning, but a constant reminder: the power flowing in their veins demanded reverence, not impulse. They nodded naturally — they had learned that magic was like a sacred toy. Not to deceive, nor to escape responsibilities. Only to grow, understand, and respect.

— I’ve already finished my homework! — Caroline announced, raising her fork proudly.

— Liar! I saw you hiding the notebook last night — teased Elena, raising an eyebrow.

— I didn’t hide it, I just didn’t want Mei to scribble on my essay again — said Caroline, making everyone laugh, including the youngest, who shrugged innocently.

— I just drew a little flower… — whispered Mei, smiling, as if that were excuse enough.

The laughter echoed through the kitchen, light as a breeze. Moments like this were little enchantments.

After breakfast and a brief tidying of the kitchen, the call of the outside world reached them. Backpacks on their shoulders, quick kisses for grandma, and off they went — five sisters, five stories, five intertwined destinies — walking together to school.

In that mundane universe, they were just Scarlett, Elena, Caroline, Bonnie, and Mei:

The girl who shined in gym class.

The one who always wrote the best essay.

The class leader who solved everything with a smile.

The artist who drew as if she breathed.

The one who danced through the hallways with the grace of a fairy.

They were "ordinary" girls — with magic in their veins, love in their gestures, and the sky, still distant, kept in their names.

Between Days and Enchantments

On Mondays, the rush was the same as always — books, schedules, secret glances exchanged in the school hallways. After the last bell rang, extracurricular activities filled the afternoon like a second shift, vibrating with small passions.

Mei, with her almost supernatural lightness, headed to ballet class. Her movements were silent poetry, and the studio mirror reflected more than steps — it reflected her soul.

At the gym, Bonnie and Scarlett donned swimsuits and immersed themselves in the world of swimming.

— Ready for another dive, Bon? — Scarlett asked, adjusting her goggles, her eyes sparkling with energy.

— Only if you promise not to splash me so much today, Sky! — Bonnie made a playful grimace.

— No promises! — Scarlett replied with a crystalline laugh, already running toward the edge of the pool.

In the school auditorium, Elena and Caroline were preparing for the theater club rehearsal. Among improvised costumes and crumpled scripts, the world transformed.

— Do you think Mrs. Davison will give us the lead role? — Caroline whispered, excitement flashing in her eyes.

— If we do our best, definitely! — Elena was already imagining the scene, the pen almost pulsing between her fingers. — I’m even thinking about how I’ll write the kissing scene.

— Elena! — Caroline rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a laugh. — We don’t even know if there will be a kissing scene!

────✧────

When Tuesday arrived, Grandma Sheila’s requirement became reality: self-defense classes. At first reluctant, now proud — the girls faced the dojo with respect and discipline.

The space was marked by the strong smell of the mat, the sharp sound of impacts, and the heat accumulating in the air.

— Faster, Scarlett! — shouted the instructor.

She responded with a swift and precise spin. Her hair waved in the air as if obeying the force radiating from within.

Mei moved with the grace of a ballerina and the precision of a warrior — each strike was almost an enchanted choreography.

— Wow, Mei! That was beautiful! — Bonnie exclaimed, full of admiration, sweating but smiling.

— It’s like ballet... but with punches! — Mei panted, laughing between blows and light steps.

────✧────

On Wednesdays, Monday’s routine repeated with the same poetry. Mei at ballet, floating among mirrors. Bonnie and Scarlett in the pool, each stroke a small victory. Elena and Caroline, immersed in their characters, memorizing lines and inventing scenes.

At night, the Bennett house pulsed with lively reports of pirouettes, strokes, memorized lines, and small triumphs. It was as if the day echoed, alive, in the girls’ voices.

────✧────

On Thursdays, more self-defense. Sweat streamed, muscles ached, but power was growing beneath each of their skins.

— My hands hurt. — Caroline massaged her wrists with a grimace.

— That’s to make them stronger. — Scarlett said, already doing push-ups naturally. — One day you’ll thank grandma.

Elena, determined despite her lack of natural fighting talent, nodded.

— It’s good to know we can protect ourselves. — she murmured, more to herself than to the others.

Bonnie, in the background, trained slowly, focusing on her breathing as if measuring the energy within her own body.

On Fridays…

Ah, Fridays… It was the most awaited day. When night fell, the living room transformed. Curtains were drawn. Candles were lit, casting soft shadows on the walls. The air filled with the sweet, ancient scent of herbs and the delicate sound of grimoires’ pages turning.

Magic was present — not as a spectacle, but as a living presence.

— Today we’ll try a simple protection spell — Sheila announced, her eyes glowing with centuries of wisdom.

— Bonnie, you first. Focus on the energy in your hand.

Bonnie closed her eyes. A small flickering light appeared in her palm, slightly warming the air around her. The sisters gasped in wonder, leaning in as if they could touch the glow.

— Elena, try to feel the energy of the words. Intention is everything.

Elena recited each syllable as if telling a secret to the universe. The words gained weight and sound, sending a subtle shiver down Scarlett’s spine.

— Grandma, can we use this to clean my room faster? — Caroline asked, practical as always.

— Maybe one day, dear — Sheila replied with a smile. — For now, let’s focus on the basics.

Scarlett observed everything with sharp focus, absorbing each gesture as if reading a map to the future.

Mei, ever graceful, mimicked her grandmother’s movements as if each spell were a dance only she knew.

And there, in that house protected by ancient enchantments and true love, five sisters grew between the ordinary and the extraordinary. Between spells and chores, between dance and theater, between deep waters and enchantments, they slowly discovered who they were.

And even without knowing it… they felt, in silence, the echo of a forgotten love — eternal as magic itself.

The Bennett house was more than walls and a roof; it was a vibrant nest, woven with threads of magic, love, and, above all, the unbreakable sisterhood that bound Scarlett, Elena, Caroline, Bonnie, and Mei.

Grandma Sheila, the master weaver of this new family, watched each of them with eyes that saw beyond the surface. With immense affection, she perceived how the girls’ distinct personalities intertwined, creating an almost sacred balance — a delicate dance of light and shadow, laughter and silence, strength and tenderness.

Invisible Bonds...

Scarlett, the eldest, carried on her shoulders the silent weight of responsibility. It was as if she knew, deep inside, that protecting her sisters was her mission. She was the one who intervened in silly arguments with a firm look, who offered a shoulder for silent tears, who helped Sheila maintain the order and rhythm of the house.

— Keep your guard up, Bon! — she gently corrected during self-defense classes, even when Bonnie was more interested in scribbling on the dojo floor than defending herself.

Scarlett was the rock. The firm structure that ensured chores were done, schedules followed, and that they all moved together like a small pack — united and resilient.

Elena, with her thoughtful soul and eyes always attentive to what others didn’t say, was the natural confidante. At night, Caroline often nestled in her bed, confiding about a boy at school or a daily drama, and Elena listened — not just with her ears, but with her heart.

— You’re the best, Care — she would say, with the sweetness only she possessed, gently stroking her sister’s hair.

Bonnie also sought Elena. She often found her sitting in a corner, absorbed in her notebook, and approached with a new drawing in her hands.

— This looks alive, Bon. Like it’s breathing… — Elena murmured, enchanted by her sister’s art.

Caroline was the sunbeam in human form. A golden whirlwind always in motion. She invented the most elaborate games, turned Grandma Sheila’s old clothes into runway outfits, and spread laughter like confetti.

— Come on, Elena, don’t be so serious! Life is a party! — she pulled her sister into a spin in the middle of the room, twirling as if every step was a joyful rebellion against routine.

Scarlett sighed in mock despair, and Mei laughed out loud, enchanted by her sister’s contagious lightness.

The house became more organized with Caroline... but also louder, more alive.

Bonnie, the intuitive artist and witch, was silence in motion. She carried a rare sensitivity, allowing her to see beauty where no one else could. Her most magical connection was with Mei.

While the others engaged in structured activities, Bonnie and Mei immersed themselves in a world of their own.

— Look at this, Mei! It’s like magic, isn’t it? — Bonnie whispered, showing a sketch where a tree seemed almost to pulse with life.

Mei, with her dancing soul, responded with movement — spinning around her sister as if the art called her to dance. It was pure symbiosis: one drew, the other danced, and for a moment, the world became more beautiful.

Mei, the youngest, was the heart of the house. Spontaneous joy. Everyone melted before her innocent, captivating smile.

She made Scarlett laugh with dramatic imitations, inspired Elena to write stories light as clouds, and was the perfect partner for Caroline’s creative madness.

— Mei, you’re the most beautiful ballerina in the world! — exclaimed Caroline, watching her little sister spin through the room with arms wide open, as if the world were her private stage.

Family Days...

With the week’s chores completed, Saturdays were sacred. A day of unity, laughter, and teamwork.

The Bennett house was large — every corner carried memories and spells — and everyone’s help was welcome.

— Who’s cleaning the bathroom? — Caroline asked, already wielding a bucket and sponge with enthusiasm.

— Mei and I can sweep and vacuum! — Bonnie offered, pulling the youngest by the hand with a mischievous smile.

Elena and Scarlett took the kitchen. While washing dishes, Elena couldn’t resist:

— And the dragon, Sky… it had diamond scales! — she described, gesturing with soapy hands.

Scarlett smiled, letting herself get carried away:

— And it was invincible?

— Almost! — Elena replied, laughing.

In the afternoon, with the house clean and the scent of lavender in the air, the time was theirs. Board games, old movies, invented stories under the tree in the backyard.

The laughter of the five girls echoed like an enchanted melody, filling the rooms with an invisible — yet real — magic.

────✧────

Sundays were different. The day of freedom. Of family.

Sometimes Grandma Sheila took them on little adventures — which felt enormous to their hearts.

— Cinema today, girls? — she asked, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

— Yes! — came the unison chorus, full of excitement.

Other times, the destination was the park. There, Mei danced under the blue sky, her bare feet on the grass. Or the town square, where each sister delved into her thoughts, observing life around them. United, even in silence.

Grandma Sheila was not just the guardian. She was the heart. The anchor. The lighthouse.

Her presence filled everything — with gentle authority and a love that welcomed and guided.

She listened to everything: school gossip, teenage dilemmas, hidden dreams, and fears nobody spoke aloud. And she did it all with the same attention she gave to teaching magic.

She was the bridge between the real world and the hidden world, protecting her girls from dangers they couldn’t imagine — and preparing them, little by little, for the day they would have to face everything on their own.

In the Bennett house, magic was a shared secret. But love… was the most powerful truth of all.

────✧────

Far away, but never absent...

In a place belonging to neither heaven nor hell, a man watched. Mystic Falls was a golden spark in his vision, a pulsating star lit by his own sacrifice.

He saw everything — his daughters’ steps, the tight hugs to Grandma Sheila, the smiles, the talents blossoming.

Each achievement was a bittersweet blow to his chest. Pride and pain danced together in his lonely eternity.

He was the invisible guardian. The father who withdrew to protect them.

The magical barrier surrounding the town carried his essence — a protection crafted with his own soul. Impenetrable. Unbreakable.

The memories he had erased were the silent shield keeping his girls safe and their supernatural natures sealed. But also the abyss that separated him from them.

Each day, he asked himself:

— Did I make the right choice?

And the answer was always the same.
Yes.

The love he felt for his precious girls was stronger than any desire, stronger than any pain, stronger even than the darkness waiting for him.

He would continue watching.
He would continue loving.
A father forever — even if never recognized.

Chapter Text

Years slipped by like water in a quiet stream in Mystic Falls—silent, continuous, almost imperceptible, yet transformative.

They did not merely pass: they shaped the Morningstar sisters as time sculpts the stones on a riverbed. From little girls running through the yard, they became young women standing at the threshold of their own destinies.

The Bennett house remained a sacred refuge, warmed by the presence of the five Morningstar sisters and by Grandma Sheila’s steady, constant love. But time, the invisible sculptor, worked in silence.

The childish voices, once full of laughter, gave way to deeper tones—questioning, intense. The dreams of dolls and superheroes yielded to the restlessness of adolescence—with its doubts, its charms, and its first sparks of a power that could no longer be ignored.

────✧────

Mei Lian Morningstar was now twenty years old. Her twenty-first birthday was approaching, and with it, the sense that she would finally stand on equal footing with her sisters.

The young hybrid smiled at her fling, Tyler Lockwood, the mayor’s son, who still lay sprawled on her bed, hair messy, with the look of someone unwilling to leave.

“Already leaving?” he asked, voice husky, watching her walk toward the bathroom.

“I have to go, Tyler,” she replied with a soft giggle. “The dance school doesn’t run itself.”

“You work too much.” He stretched out his arm, trying to pull her back by the waist, but Mei slipped away laughing. “You could stay just a little longer.”

She tilted her head, amused.

“If I stay, my students will end up dancing without a teacher.”

He rolled his eyes, pretending to sulk.

“Guess I’ll just have to wait for that sleepover with your sisters... though I’ve got the feeling I wasn’t invited.”

Mei gave him a mysterious smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

“It’s a sisters’ thing, Lockwood. Secret.”

Inside the shower, warm water streamed down her skin, relaxing her muscles and stirring memories. Steam filled the space like a curtain between present and past. Each drop seemed to carry echoes of childhood, and without realizing it, Mei drifted into the pull of her memories.

Bonnie, at twelve, was already a mystery in motion. Her sketchbook felt more like a secret grimoire than a simple notebook. Each line carried a strange vibration, as if infused with power.

“See this, Mei?” she showed her one morning, eyes gleaming with fascination. “I drew it before it happened. The same crow that appeared in the yard today.”

Mei, eleven at the time, looked from the drawing to her sister, wonder in her gaze. Her dancing was no longer just grace and lightness either. When she spun, the air shifted temperature. The light seemed to bend, obedient to the rhythm of her steps. The mood of the entire house followed the cadence of her body.

“When you dance...” Bonnie murmured, almost shy, as if revealing a secret. “It feels like I can breathe better.”

Friday nights with Grandma Sheila were no longer just innocent games. The fire of the candles flickered in tune with each girl’s emotions.

Bonnie made flowers grow and change color without touching them.

Elena recited words that made plants move gently.

Caroline arranged objects with a glance, as if the air obeyed her.

Scarlett anticipated movements before they happened, seeing a second ahead of everyone else.

And Mei transformed the atmosphere into pure, silent poetry, as if the house itself breathed through her dance.

Sheila, watching them that night, raised her voice—firm, solemn, carrying ancestral weight:

“You are awakening... and when power awakens, girls, the world listens.”

The silence that followed was almost reverent. Each of them knew something within could no longer be denied.

Mei slowly opened her eyes, returning to the present. A soft smile escaped, as if she had tucked away an ancient secret for herself alone. She turned off the shower, dried off calmly, and finished getting ready in front of the mirror.

The night promised much: first the dance school, then the sleepover with her sisters. But deep down, there was a sharper edge of anticipation, a quiet expectation that neither Tyler, nor her students, nor anyone else could understand.

It was as though life itself was about to change—and Mei felt ready to hear what the world had to say.

────✧────

Scarlett, now twenty-five, breathed in deeply the scent of spring mixed with March’s bittersweet perfume. The trace of the protective little girl still pulsed in her chest, but now sculpted into a young woman with steady eyes, centered posture, and restrained strength.

As she adjusted her briefcase for the last hearing of the case, her mind wandered back to the days when she was only thirteen.

During martial arts training, her movements were not merely agile—they were pure expression. A fierce, almost hypnotic dance, where each punch seemed to carry the weight of a forgotten lineage. The air sliced around her, her feet sliding across the packed earth, raising small clouds that glittered in the fading light.

“More focus, Scarlett!” Sheila’s voice rang firm from the porch, her gaze sharp as a blade.

“I am focused!” the girl shot back, not breaking her stare from her imagined opponent. Her body dripped with sweat, but her fists remained steady, precise. “I just don’t like repeating what I’ve already mastered.”

Sheila arched a brow—patient, but unyielding.

“And that is why you still have so much to learn.”

Scarlett drew in a long breath, adjusting her stance before striking again. The rhythm of her movements was almost poetic: she was the wind before the storm. The sword still sheathed. The patient strength that acts only when necessary.

Each punch reverberated like thunder, and even the trees around seemed to lean toward her presence. In that moment, though just a girl, she already carried the aura of a warrior destined for something greater.

A brief smile curved Scarlett’s lips in the present. She and her sisters had never been ordinary. Since childhood they had been prodigies in everything: too smart, too strong, too sensitive.

And deep down, that frightened her.

“Forever twenty-one, officially twenty-five.”

The phrase always felt like a bitter irony. Time passed for the world, but for them… not in the same way.

Scarlett straightened her blazer. Over the past years she had received countless offers from prestigious law firms in New York, Chicago, even Washington. Tempting invitations any young attorney would accept without hesitation.

But not her.

“And leave my sisters alone? Not a chance...” she murmured to herself, almost like a silent vow.

Mei was still mortal. That was enough.

She breathed deeply, tucking away her thoughts. The courthouse awaited. A case to win first—and afterward... a sleepover to celebrate.

────✧────

Caroline looked into the mirror and smiled with satisfaction. She was radiant in her romantic yet professional look: a light dress, a fitted blazer, and the sweet perfume that always made her feel ready to conquer the world.

She loved her work, but that morning, she could only think of the night ahead: a sleepover with her beloved sisters.

As she put on her earrings, Matt Donovan’s familiar voice pulled her from her reverie. The sheriff leaned against the doorframe with a lazy smile.

“Do you really have to go?” he asked playfully, arms crossed.

Caroline laughed, walked over, and stole a kiss.

“Yes, darling. I do.”

“But today’s my day off...” he pouted dramatically.

She raised a brow, amused.

“Well, you’re free to hit the Grill. I’m sure Tyler and Mason Lockwood will be available. Since I’ll be busy with my sisters...”

Matt chuckled softly.

“Don’t forget about Ben. He practically lives at the Grill.”

Caroline grabbed her purse and winked.

“Perfect, then. You won’t be lacking company.”

She said goodbye with one last kiss before leaving.

In the car, driving toward the office, her thoughts drifted to Mei. And inevitably... to childhood.

Caroline, at thirteen, was pure energy. The girl in frilly dresses now led with spreadsheets, schedules, and storage boxes. School parties, group projects—even playtime was calculated with almost magical precision.

And perhaps it really was magic.

Behind every “everything under control” there was a slight tremor in her fingers. Sometimes, a tightness in her chest that she never mentioned.

“I just want everything to turn out right...” she murmured one afternoon, reorganizing the bookshelf with a quick flick. Some books floated in the air, hesitated for a moment, then aligned perfectly, obeying her will.

Bonnie watched from the armchair, eyes intent and a knowing smile on her lips.

“It’s all right—even when it isn’t.”

Caroline huffed, arms crossed, trying to hide the flush rising in her cheeks.

“That’s just stress, okay? Don’t give me that mysterious witch look.”

But Bonnie only smiled more. There was something in her gaze that always left Caroline unsettled—as if Bonnie could see past the façade, past the lists and the need for control.

Every list Caroline wrote was an attempt to silence doubt. Every completed task, a step to keep the world spinning within her carefully drawn order. Deep down, she feared chaos... because chaos always revealed more than she was ready to admit.

Returning to the present, Caroline laughed to herself inside the car. She had always been intense—and now, as a designer, her talents finally had the perfect stage to shine. Amidst colorful canvases, detailed projects, and dreams turned real, her need for control had found a safe place to flourish.

But still, that morning, nothing seemed more important than the promise of a simple night spent beside her sisters.

────✧────

Elena, at twelve, was diving ever deeper into the words that lived within her chest.

Her stories, once sweet and linear, now carried shadows, unexpected curves, and feelings that seemed to come from other lives.

She wrote as if she were breathing. The pen was an extension of her soul, and her eyes—filters between the visible and the hidden.

The room was lit only by a candle, and the scent of paper and ink surrounded her like a silent spell.

"What if the character… dies in the end?" she whispered, reading the draft to Sheila.

Her grandmother took the pages gently, as if holding something alive. She ran her fingers over the letters.

'"f she is reborn afterward, then yes. Every death must have purpose." Her eyes shone with pride. "Write with courage, Elena. Even the gods respect well-written words."

Elena bit her lip, reflecting. The fear of being bold still pulsed in her heart, but there was something greater: a flame demanding to be fed, even when it burned.

She leaned over the notebook and continued writing, her handwriting steady and quick, as if the story were in a hurry to exist.

At that moment, she was not just a girl—she was a creator of worlds.

"Elena?"

The deep voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She blinked, returning to the present, and found Damon watching her.

"Yes?"

"I asked if you’re on call today."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head.

"No. But we won’t be able to see each other either. I’ll be meeting my sisters. We’re having a sleepover.'

Damon raised an eyebrow, with his usual sarcasm.

"You’re a doctor who still plays at being a teenager."

Elena rolled her eyes and grabbed the lab coat hanging nearby.

"I’m twenty-four, I’m young. You’re the grump.' She leaned in and stole a quick kiss. 'See you tomorrow."

She left the apartment without looking back.

Outside, the world had no idea. The building they were in was protected by a camouflage spell so powerful that even the most attentive were fooled.

No one knew about her relationship with Damon.

And, for now, Elena preferred it that way.

The words still accompanied her, like echoes of childhood. The storybook had become medical articles, research, and diagnoses, but the essence remained: she continued writing to make sense of the chaos.

And that night would be no different. The sleepover with her sisters might be just a pretext. Deep down, Elena knew: every reunion with them was a living chapter of a book still being written.

────✧────

Bennett House.

It was night…

Alone in her room, Bonnie found a package on the bed.

No note. No sender.

Carefully, she untied the ribbon.

Inside lay a dark metal amulet, cold as river stone. Ancient symbols were engraved on it—and they seemed familiar.

They echoed silent whispers, as if words forgotten in a language her soul had known even before birth.

When she touched it, a warm energy ran through her arm, like an invisible embrace.

A sigh echoed deep in her mind.

A male voice. Soft. Warm.

"My little heaven."

Bonnie shivered.

She didn’t know that voice.

But something inside her recognized the sound.

The amulet vibrated subtly in her hand, as if responding silently:

'You are not alone.'

Bonnie awoke with a racing heart.

She looked around. The room was quiet, lit only by dim light.

Since she was fourteen—when she had received the necklace as a graduation gift—she had never stopped dreaming about that night.

The first time she dreamed, Scarlett had been beside her, lying on the shared bed, and was the only one to notice when Bonnie woke startled in the middle of the night.

Confusion.

Pain.

The longing she felt upon waking paralyzed her. But she was not alone.

She had never been.

Her sister asked nothing—she simply extended her hand, held hers, and remained silent.

That gesture was enough.

From that night on, Bonnie knew that even if the dreams returned, she would never truly be alone.

She sighed, got up, and took care of her hygiene.

The hot bath steam fogged the mirror, but her mind was far away.

Mei.

She was worried, but confident. Still, something in her gut told her that her sister’s ritual would be different. And that unsettled her.

Wrapped in her robe, she began to get ready. She had five patients scheduled, but she would return early for the sleepover.

────✧────

Descending the stairs, she found Sheila grading papers.

"Good morning, Grandma."

"Good morning, my child." — Her grandmother replied tenderly, watching her with eyes full of pride.

And then, before she could stop it, an old memory took hold of Sheila.

The sun of that afternoon gilded the Bennett house backyard like a spell whispered by the earth itself.

It was summer—a kind of summer that seemed never-ending. The smell of warm earth, the hum of lazy bees, the rustling of leaves in the warm breeze, and the distant sound of an old radio from the kitchen. Everything conspired for peace.

But peace there was always relative.

"Mei, if you knock down my castle again, I swear I’ll turn you into a frog!" — shouted Caroline, her little hands covered in glitter and dry leaves.

"You don’t even know how to do that yet!" — Mei Lian retorted, spinning across the lawn like a top, her floral skirt flying around her.

"But if I did, it would be a frog with a pink tutu!"

Elena laughed, lying in the shade of the apple tree. The open book on her lap had been forgotten; in truth, she was just watching her sisters, like someone witnessing the birth of a story.

Scarlett, farther away, perched on the fence, eyes scanning the horizon.

"There’s a black rabbit on the path. It’s always there… but it never crosses the stone line. Have you seen it?"

Bonnie lifted her eyes from the sketchbook, the pencil tip smudging her fingers with graphite.

"I saw it, yes. Yesterday it was watching me. I think it feels the magic here."

"Magic?" — Elena asked, tilting her head.

"Fairy-tale type… or the real kind?"

Bonnie smiled enigmatically, as if holding secrets she herself didn’t fully understand.

"Is there a difference?"

Caroline huffed, tossing glitter into the air so that tiny sparkles rained down on them like golden confetti.

"I just want my fairy party decorations to be perfect! Mei messed everything up, Elena’s been lying there for hours, and Bonnie only draws weird stuff…"

"Calm down, Care." — Scarlett finally approached, the natural authority of the eldest clear in every step.

"Do this: you organize the table, Elena writes the lines for the play, Bonnie draws, and Mei dances. Everyone does what they do best."

She lifted her chin firmly.

"And me? I protect everyone. As always."

Bonnie raised her face, eyes shining as if she had just recognized something greater.

"You’re like… the guardian of our coven."

"Co-who?" — Mei asked, confused, wrinkling her little nose.

"Coven. It’s a group of sister witches. Or almost that."

"We’re not 'almost.' We really ARE sisters!" — shouted Caroline, pulling Bonnie and Mei into a clumsy hug that nearly knocked the drawings to the floor.

Elena couldn’t resist: she closed her book without looking and threw herself on top of the three, laughing out loud.

And, finally, even Scarlett sighed and let herself be enveloped. Five small bodies, five intertwined souls, one invisible bond.

From the porch, Sheila watched in silence, eyes misty.

At that moment, she felt it. The girls were aligned.

As if an invisible force had sealed their destiny—a sacred promise that even time would not dare to break.

And, in the far corner of the backyard, the black rabbit watched. Still, patient. As if it were waiting for something too.

"I’m going, Grandma." — said Bonnie, pulling Sheila out of her thoughts.

"Of course, dear. Have a wonderful day." — she said, smiling as Bonnie kissed her cheek.

Bonnie stepped outside under Sheila’s affectionate gaze. The sweet lady’s heart overflowed with pride.

Pride for all of them.

And, deep down, a gentle premonition that this day would mark the beginning of something that could never be undone.

Chapter Text

The courthouse had been a victory for Scarlett, but the mental exhaustion still weighed on her shoulders.

Each step on the way back home seemed longer than the last.

She dreamed only of getting rid of her heels, sinking into a hot bath, and finally relaxing.

Elena, in turn, carried the fatigue of a full day at the hospital.

The emergencies, the patients, the decisions — everything still pulsed in her mind.

She clung to the idea of putting on her pajamas and letting herself be lulled by her sisters' presence.

Caroline's fingers were stained with paint and her head was buzzing with ideas for new projects, but her body was begging for a break.

The sleepover would be the perfect excuse to disconnect from work.

Bonnie, after an intense day at the clinic, smiled at the thought of her patients' progress.

But each session left subtle marks of tiredness, and she knew that only her sisters' company could refuel her energy.

Mei felt her muscles ache after hours of dancing, but the anticipation of the night softened the effort.

It was as if every ache announced the reward that was to come.

They gathered, then, at the home of Sheila Bennett, the grandmother who had raised them and continued to be a safe harbor for all of them.

The air was filled with the sweet smell of freshly baked oatmeal cookies, while the fireplace crackled with flames, spreading warmth and soft light throughout the room.

In matching pink satin pajamas, they settled into the living room.

Soft pillows and fluffy blankets created a cozy nest, and the coffee table overflowed with treats.

Soon, Scarlett and Caroline, the most competitive, engaged in a silent dispute over the last slice of pizza.

— Hey, Care! That's mine! — Scarlett said, laughing.

— I saw it first! — Caroline retorted, pulling the slice with exaggerated theatricality.

Elena and Bonnie watched, amidst laughter, while Mei delighted in a still-warm cookie, as if nothing could disturb her.

With their stomachs satisfied, the conversation flowed naturally.

Between confidences and laughter, they talked about work, dreams, loves, and heartbreaks — as they always did, weaving their lives into each other in the intimacy of a night that was just for them.

— Sky, have you ever been scared for yourself? — Mei asked, suddenly.

Scarlett thought for a moment.

She could feel her sisters' eyes on her, attentive and hopeful.

To them, Scarlett had always been a rock, someone who worried more about others than about herself.

— Yes! You know... — she began, looking at the fireplace. — I think fear isn't when something goes wrong.

She paused, took a deep breath.

— Fear is when you realize you can't protect everyone you love at the same time.

Bonnie, smiling slightly, touched her sister's arm.

— But you always do the best you can. Always.

— Super Sky. — Caroline said, rolling her eyes, with a playful look.

Mei nodded, thoughtfully.

— It's strange... to think that you, who seem so strong, also feel fear.

Scarlett smiled, hugging her youngest sister.

— Yeah, we do. But that's what keeps us going.

— But was there ever a time it paralyzed you? — Elena wanted to know.

Scarlett lowered her gaze, her expression distant.

— Yes... my first year of college.

The flames in the fireplace danced, but Scarlett no longer saw them.

The memory dragged her back to the corridors of Whitmore, fifteen years ago.

Discipline was her middle name.

The same she exercised in martial arts, in her studies in Mystic Falls, in Grandma Sheila's lessons.

And now, in law school.

At just 15, she woke up early, studied late, and carried the world with impeccable posture.

But Whitmore had a different rhythm.

An underground vibration, an invisible pulse that didn't come from clocks or corridors — it came from the earth, from the roots, from what couldn't be seen.

The amulet on her wrist, ancient, dark metal, had become more than an accessory.

It was a constant whisper. A sentinel.

Its sudden tremors and heat no longer scared her. Scarlett had learned to listen to them, like someone listening to a newly awakened instinct.

One Thursday night, after hours of studying, she was returning to the dormitory.

The autumnal air was sharp, damp, but there was something more: a physical, suffocating weight.

Then, the amulet vibrated.

Violently. As if screaming.

The metal burned her skin.

Her instincts, shaped by Sheila, went off.

Everything in her said: go back, run away, forget.

But inside her chest, another force grew: courage. Destiny.

A muffled sound broke the silence.

Something being dragged through the dry earth, coming from the trail between the trees.

Scarlett held her breath.

Silently, she hid behind a large trunk.

The amulet burned stronger with each step.

And then, she saw.

Two figures.

One was dragging the other as if the body weighed nothing.

The faint light of a lantern revealed the scene.

The man's lips were stained with blood.

His eyes — hungry, sick.

Suddenly, he bit.

He sank his teeth into the victim's neck.

A weak moan.

The blood running.

It wasn't a robbery. Nor a fight.

It was predation.

It was real.

The amulet shone, wrapped in a discreet aura.

The creature raised its head... and looked in Scarlett's direction.

Her heart stopped.

But the eyes passed over her as if she were just another shadow in the night.

The spell kept her invisible.

He moved away, dragging the body into the darkness.

Leaving only the cruel silence. The smell of iron in the air.

Scarlett remained motionless, her heart pounding.

The amulet still pulsed, as if sharing the same adrenaline that burned in her veins.

— What did I just see...? — she whispered to herself.

Logic couldn't reach that place.

The supernatural existed.

And the amulet... wasn't just a gift.

It was a link. A bridge. A promise.

That night, between blood and shadows, Scarlett knew:

Nothing in her life would ever be the same again.

The flames of the fireplace came back into focus.

The warmth of the present replaced the shadows of the past.

Scarlett touched the amulet on her wrist, instinctively.

— That was the first time fear almost paralyzed me. I didn't sleep properly for weeks. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the hungry gleam of those eyes.

The room fell silent.

Elena squeezed her sister's hand, Bonnie's eyes were glistening.

Even Caroline, practical as ever, swallowed hard.

Mei, lying against her shoulder, whispered softly: — And yet... you stayed.

Scarlett just smiled, tired and tender.

— Because, sometimes, courage is that. Staying. Even with fear.

Mei was still in awe, holding Scarlett's arm gently.

Bonnie, sitting beside her, touched her sister's hand softly:

— You've always been strong, Sky. But no one needs to be invincible alone.

— Well remembered, Bonbon. — Scarlett replied, affectionately.

Mei looked at her sisters, her eyes shining:

— Wow... that's why you're our guardian. You always protect us, even before you know what's coming.

Scarlett smiled, a carefree, sincere smile.

— Maybe it's just instinct... or maybe, something more. — She squeezed the amulet discreetly, as if it were an invisible link to each of them.

Elena leaned in, curious:

— And after that night? Did you see anything else?

— No. But every time the metal vibrates, I know there's something beyond what the eyes can see. It's like the world is trying to tell me something. — Scarlett looked up at the ceiling, thoughtfully. — And it's my job to listen.

— Now you know how I feel. — Bonnie said, smiling and resting her head on her older sister's shoulder.

Caroline nudged Scarlett lightly, joking:

— Just don't forget that we protect you too, you know? After all, who protects the guardian?

Scarlett laughed, a light sound. The heavy atmosphere of the memory transformed into familiar warmth.

— I know... and I'm grateful for that.

— Grandma Sheila! — Caroline called with a mischievous smile.

— Yes, dear. — Sheila, who was in the kitchen, appeared in the living room.

— Read the cards for us! — Caroline asked, with puppy-dog eyes.

— Of course. — Sheila gave in, smiling, as the girls settled down to listen.

The warmth of the fireplace, the smell of the oatmeal cookies, and the presence of each sister created a nest of security and love.

Grandma Sheila placed the first card carefully, almost ritualistically, and began the reading:

For Scarlett:

— I see your light, success in your hands, happiness within reach...

But there is something more. A subtle shadow approaches, invisible to the eyes, but present in the air.

Trust your intuition. The greatest danger arises where you least expect it.

Scarlett squeezed the amulet, feeling the seriousness of the words and a shiver running down her spine.

For Elena:

— My healing angel, your heart is pure, and your journey will be illuminated by love.

But something is approaching you too. A path forks, and a hidden force tries to divert your destiny.

Only clarity of purpose and honesty with yourself can guide you.

Elena took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her grandmother's words and the warmth of Scarlett's hand holding hers.

For Caroline:

— My flower, your talent and creativity will open doors to happiness and love.

But there is something strange around you, a melody out of tune that doesn't align with your essence.

Listen to your inner voice and don't be seduced by false glows.

Caroline bit her lip, trying to smile, and shook her head in understanding.

For Bonnie:

— My wise one, your empathy is a shield for others, but you must protect yourself too.

I see happiness and love on your path, but a silent storm is approaching.

Don't drown in the pain of others; know when to step away. Your heart is a guide, but also vulnerable.

Bonnie closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, feeling her grandmother's warning in every fiber of her body.

For Mei:

— My ballerina, your strength and grace will take you to greater heights than you can imagine.

But there is something in the shadows, a subtle, yet dangerous presence.

Your body is a temple, but also vulnerable. The greatest power lies in the ability to adapt.

Don't fight what you can't control; this way, your journey will be lighter.

Mei squeezed Scarlett's hand, swallowing hard and trying to absorb every nuance of the card.

Sheila collected the cards, her dark eyes reflecting ancestral wisdom.

She saw light and darkness, love and danger... and also something more.

An energy united the granddaughters, but something about it was indecipherable. A danger coming from the same place for all of them, but manifesting in different ways.

A mystery that Sheila preferred not to reveal.

Each card was a warning and each warning a trigger.

April 2005

The magical barrier erected by Father Morningstar over Mystic Falls began to manifest.

Wild animals avoided the city, as if they feared crossing an invisible boundary. Travelers got lost and came back, confused.

— I just felt like I shouldn't go in — said a trucker, when asked by a police officer. — Like... something was telling me to leave.

It was as if the city said, with an ancestral voice:

— Do not enter.

Sheila, always observant, felt the weight of this protection.

She saw her granddaughters maturing, felt the power vibrating in them, growing like seeds awakening from the earth.

But the protection was not eternal. A shiver ran down her spine every time she thought about what existed beyond the boundaries of Mystic Falls — a cruel, ruthless world, interested in the awakening of the five young Morningstars.

Even without full knowledge, Sheila knew: something evil coveted her granddaughters' power.

Coming out of her thoughts, Sheila looked at each one, with hope and faith:

— Your destiny is in your hands, but remember: you are not alone. The strength of one is the strength of all. And love is the greatest magic that exists.

With a weak smile, she stood up, leaving the girls with her words... and with the feeling that the future was more mysterious than it seemed.

The five young women watched Sheila leave. Her words echoing in their minds.

Each warning, each nuance, hung in the air like an invisible perfume, reminding them of the balance between power and responsibility.

Elena took a deep breath, leaning slightly on Scarlett's arm.

— It's a lot to think about... — she whispered.

— I know — Scarlett replied, discreetly squeezing her youngest sister's hand. — But together, we can face anything.

Bonnie smiled, trying to dissipate the weight of the atmosphere:

— She just wants us to be prepared. And to stay together.

— We know. And I'm grateful for that. — Scarlett's eyes swept over each sister, feeling more secure. — But it reminded me that, no matter how prepared we are, there will always be things that surprise us.

Elena held Scarlett's hand, smiling with confidence:

— So, we promise one thing? Always together. No matter what comes up.

Scarlett nodded, with a sparkle in her eyes:

— Always.

Caroline, always practical and playful, jumped off the sofa and ran to the corner of the room, grabbing some pillows.

— Oh, let's liven this place up! — she said, throwing them in the air. — Who said we can't have fun after so much drama?

Mei made an elegant spin on the rug, making her sisters laugh.

— She's right! — she said, smiling. — A little lightness helps to clear the mind.

Laughter returned to the room, shy at first, but soon full of strength.

They organized a small circle on the floor, lay down under blankets and pillows, and began to play with small challenges: telling funny childhood stories, remembering pranks they did together, and even inventing improvised games with their grandmother's treats.

The heavy atmosphere the flashback had brought transformed into familiar warmth, into a memory of love and protection.

Each touch, each smile, each gesture was a reinforced bond.

— You know? — said Elena, grabbing a slice of cookie. — No matter what comes, I trust you. Always.

— And we trust you — Caroline completed, patting her sister's hand.

Mei looked at all of them, shining:

— We're ready. We always were, we just didn't know it.

Bonnie closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the strength of the bond.

— So... let's enjoy the night. Our sleepover deserves to be perfect.

And so, between laughter, stories, and treats, the Morningstar sisters transformed the night into a refuge.

A safe space, full of its own magic, where love was the greatest protection and laughter, the best spell.

Caroline began braiding Bonnie's hair, while Scarlett braided Elena's, and Mei put her head in Bonnie's lap, who was running her fingers through her sister's hair.

The house echoed with laughter, the grandmother's voice calming their spirits, but especially, with the unconditional love that only sisters could feel.

The night ended with them sleeping on the living room floor, nestled one on top of the other, the sound of the fireplace crackling in the background, and the grandmother, sitting in her armchair, smiling and admiring her girls.

It was the perfect way to end an exhausting day: in the company of those who loved them most.

────✧────

The Distant Gaze of the Father

Far. But never absent.

In a threshold between heaven and hell, where time did not exist, a man watched.

He was the invisible guardian.

The father who erased himself so that his daughters could shine.

He saw every achievement.

Every gesture.

He felt every emotion.

The diplomas, the professional victories, the rituals, the awakened powers. Everything.

Scarlett, the responsible one.

Elena, with words in her eyes.

Caroline, leading everything like a born leader.

Bonnie, the most magical and artist. Mei, dancing even while applauding.

And Sheila — his beloved mother-in-law — sustaining everything with ancestral love.

The amulets he had left for them were a part of him.

Forged with his own essence.

They were a link.

A whisper.

A promise.

He also felt pain — excruciating — for not being there.

For not being remembered.

But he knew: it was the price of protection.

The barrier over Mystic Falls was his sacrifice woven in magic.

As if every beat of his absent heart was sewn into the fog that protected the city.

And yet, every day, he asked himself:

— Did I make the right choice?

The answer was always the same.

— Yes.

The love he felt for his daughters was more than time.

More than the void.

More than eternity itself.

The amulets pulsed softly, echoing every beat of his absent heart.

Each vibration reminded them that he was there, even if invisible.

And he would continue.

Watching over.

Loving.

Silent.

He remembered the nights he wished he could hug them without breaking the veil of protection.

He felt every one of their joys as if it were his own, even from a distance.

And, from where he was, he felt every emotion, every word absorbed by them, and smiled silently.

He knew that, despite his absence, his love was the bridge that united and protected each of them.

Nothing, neither time, nor distance, nor the invisible world itself, could erase that.

He was there.

He always had been.

He always would be.

Chapter Text

Saturday's sun bathed Mystic Falls in a golden light, bringing with it the promise of rest.

At Grandma Sheila's house, the smell of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mixing with the vibrant energy of the five sisters.

The week had been long, almost a battle for each of them. And the need to reconnect, laugh, and forget about problems was palpable.

"Has anyone seen my wallet?" Scarlett's voice echoed from upstairs, slightly anxious. "I can't go shopping without it!"

"Sky..." Elena replied, rolling her eyes with a knowing smile. "It's in your purse, where it always is. You never look properly."

Scarlett appeared in the hallway, descending the steps with a theatrical air.

"Well, someone could at least help me look, instead of judging me, couldn't they?"

The sisters laughed.

Caroline, already seated at the table with a cup of coffee, wrote in her notepad.

"After shopping, can we stop by that new decor store that opened at the mall? I need inspiration for a new project."

"Project or an excuse to buy more pillows?" Bonnie teased, raising her eyebrows.

Caroline threw a bread crumb at her sister and shrugged.

"Inspiration comes in many forms."

Bonnie, finishing breakfast, raised her cup in an imaginary toast.

"Alright. But only if we make a mandatory stop at the spa. No thinking about work today." She cast a knowing look at her three older sisters, who nodded, smiling. "And you, Mei? Are you ready yet?"

Mei, sitting beside her, nodded enthusiastically.

"Ready as can be! I already know what I'm going to look for." She paused, her eyes sparkling. "New dance sneakers."

Bonnie smiled, lightly touching her youngest sister's shoulder.

"That's the spirit."

Grandma Sheila, always attentive, watched everything from the head of the table. Her tender eyes swept over her granddaughters with affection.

"Enjoy yourselves, girls. Life needs days like this to balance out the others." she said, serving herself some tea.

After a delicious breakfast, the five left the house, excited.

────✧────

The mall was crowded, but for them, it was like an amusement park.

Amidst laughter and jokes, Scarlett found a pair of shoes she insisted on trying on right away.

"Sisters, I present the shoes that will change my week!" she exclaimed, strutting down the store aisle.

Elena laughed and, soon after, walked out with an elegant coat in her hands.

"Well, if she's going to strut, I'm going to pose like a Parisian writer." she commented, flipping her hair back.

Caroline dove into the decor shelves, her eyes sparkling upon finding a unique lamp.

"Inspiration found!" she declared, as if she had won a trophy, already imagining a magical ceiling for her room.

Bonnie, meanwhile, got lost in a bookstore. With her eyes lit up with enthusiasm, she held a thick volume, whose cover was adorned with ancient symbols, strangely familiar to those in her grandmother's grimoires.

"I've found my next portal." she murmured, reverently stroking the cover.

And Mei, radiant, came out of the sports store showing off her new pair of dance sneakers.

"Alright, no one can stop me now!" she declared, doing a little dance.

The day of shopping wasn't just retail therapy.

It was a reminder that, despite the mysteries and dangers, life was also made of simple, happy moments.

When the sun began to set, they headed to the spa. There, between relaxing massages and muffled laughter, they allowed themselves to forget everything.

Bonnie sighed, sinking into the soft armchair.

"See? Nothing like a perfect Saturday."

Caroline lifted the clay mask on her face and laughed.

"I think I'm officially ready to face anything."

Elena looked at them all with tenderness.

"Maybe the most powerful magic we have... is exactly this."

And on that Saturday, between stores, laughter, and rest, the five Morningstar sisters once again proved that their greatest strength lay in the small shared moments.

────✧────

Scarlett and Mason Lockwood's night was lulled by the gentle sound of Mystic Falls falling asleep.

Mason's warm arms enveloped her, but her mind was far away, caught up in Mei's upcoming ritual. Her little sister would soon no longer be human, and this, along with the cryptic messages from the cards, made her uneasy.

"Everything okay, sweetie?" Mason's voice, soft and concerned, broke the silence. He noticed her distant gaze, lost on the ceiling.

"Yes. Just thinking about a case," Scarlett lied, the excuse coming out faster than she expected.

Mason ran his thumb over her hand, in a calm gesture.

"You know you can talk to me, right? I can handle even the most difficult versions of your day."

Scarlett held his gaze for a moment and gave a short smile.

"I know. Thank you."

His smile was affectionate, familiar, safe. But the heavy, bitter guilt hit her hard.

She liked Mason, truly. The relationship was calm, safe, he was a good man.

But since the ritual — and, more specifically, since the dream with that mysterious man — something had changed within her.

An intense certainty consumed her: she felt she was born for that stranger, just as he was for her.

The lie wasn't just about work. It was about what she felt, a truth that scared and intrigued her at the same time.

Destiny, love, family... everything seemed intertwined in a tangle of mystery and emotion.

And at the center of it all, the face of the man from the dream.

Her gaze fell to her wrist, where the bracelet she had received as a graduation gift rested. The small white gold amulet pulsed with a subtle warmth against her skin. She touched it lightly, and the warmth intensified — not in an alarming way, but firm, like an anchor pulling her back to the memory of the night that would change everything.

Her mind drifted, going back in time as if diving into a deep lake.

The scene dissolved into floating petals... and, in its place, another took shape. More intimate. More powerful. More transformative.

She remembered: a law degree in hand, pride in her eyes, internship confirmed, contract signed.

But none of those academic achievements compared to the night of her 21st birthday.

Because on that night... Scarlett would cease to be merely human.

The Bennett house in Mystic Falls seemed to breathe with its own ancestral magic that night.

Candles lit in every corner. Herbs burning with a dense aroma. Ancient symbols drawn on the floor with salt and myrrh powder, where the visible and invisible worlds met.

The living room — the same place where so much laughter echoed on Fridays — was now a sacred temple.

Grandma Sheila walked in circles around Scarlett, murmuring incantations in a language that seemed forgotten by everyone except the stones.

Her gaze, filled with centuries of wisdom and the weight of the lineage's responsibility, was fixed on her granddaughter.

Sheila lightly touched Scarlett's amulet, as if awakening a memory.

"When I say the word, close your eyes and breathe with me. Remember: you are not alone."

Elena discreetly adjusted a candle. Caroline aligned the salt on the floor, a designer's precision. Bonnie observed the symbol's design, attentive to the smallest detail. Mei squeezed her hands, silent, her heart beating to the same rhythm as the flames.

The air thickened. The flames trembled, obeying an ancestral call.

Sheila took a deep breath.

"Are you ready, my child?"

Scarlett nodded. Her heart was strong. Her mind was quiet. Destiny awaited.

And the night, outside, held its breath.

The sisters were there, rigid, attentive, solemn, forming a circle of protection that seemed to radiate its own light.

"Scarlett," said Sheila, her voice choked with emotion and responsibility, "today you cross a portal. You claim your lineage. And you finally become who you were born to be."

Scarlett's heart beat like a ceremonial drum. The air seemed heavy, time slowed down, and each step she took seemed to cross centuries.

 * The Connection with the Lineage

Kneeling in the center of the circle, Scarlett looked up at her grandmother.

Sheila held an oak staff covered in symbols that burned with their own light, radiating an ancestral heat that crossed the centuries.

When Sheila began to recite the chants, a heat ran down Scarlett's spine, exploding in her limbs like liquid fire.

Every word vibrated within her, resonating in the deepest fibers of her being.

Every heartbeat of the witches who came before her reverberated in her chest.

Every past life shone like a silent flame.

And the roots beneath the earth pulsed, connecting her to the force that sustained the world.

The echo of her name engraved on the bones of time returned, ancient and welcoming, embracing her.

 * The Trial of the Elements

Her sisters brought four bowls, arranged as living symbols:

Earth – Water – Air – Fire

Scarlett touched each one and felt the world respond:

Earth: moved gently under her feet, alive, molding to her touch, firm and nourishing.

Water: swirled in spirals, wrapping her in gentle currents that danced like liquid memory.

Air: blew through her hair, caressing her like an ancestral kiss, carrying ancient secrets and future promises.

Fire: hesitated for a moment, trembled and then enveloped her with an intense heat, licking her skin without harming it, recognizing the force that ran in her veins.

Nature responded. Each element vibrated in harmony, but the fire leaned over her, honoring her not just as a daughter, but as an heir.

She was a daughter of all forces, woven into the fabric of the world.

Alive in every breath, drop, root, and blaze.

 * The Fragmented Vision

Rare herbs burned, spreading a dense smoke that enveloped Scarlett, coiling like living mist.

Her eyes closed.

The world dissolved into images that arrived like thunder in slow motion.

White wings with golden details tore through the sky.

Tearing reality.

Golden eyes fixed on her, filled with eternal pain and memories of forgotten eras.

Shadows bathed in power, fragments of past lives.

A man with immortal features, suffering eyes, emerged between lights and shadows.

A whisper broke the silence:

"My little cherry."

Scarlett's heart ached with intensity.

She didn't know who he was, but the pain spoke of a blood bond, a connection that not even time could break.

 * The Fusion of Essence

Sheila handed Scarlett a medallion, wrapped in ancient linen, imbued with ages.

Upon touching the object, a sharp pain shot through her chest like an icy blade.

Brief. Acute. Almost unbearable.

Her fingers curled.

Her breath failed.

For a moment, it seemed that all the air had disappeared.

And then, the energy shifted.

Something lodged inside her.

A dense, incandescent fire that burned with celestial and infernal intensity at the same time.

Every cell vibrated.

Every heartbeat resonated like a cosmic symphony.

In the absolute silence, Scarlett understood: she had never been just human.

Her essence transcended mortal limits, connecting her to the infinite.

 * The Awakening of the Anomaly

The sisters offered blood.

Subtle cuts on their palms, crimson drops falling into the sacred chalice.

A living mixture of soul, love, and promise.

"The strength of sisterhood will guide your path" said Sheila, handing her the chalice.

Scarlett held it firmly.

She raised it to her lips.

And drank it all.

Hot.

Dense.

Bitter.

Primordial.

As if drinking the very essence of the world.

Then, came the collapse.

The floor seemed to dissolve under her feet.

Reality shattered into lights and shadows.

Fragments of past and future danced in sublime chaos.

Time ceased to exist.

Her body fell to the center of the circle, but her soul — freed from the weight of the flesh — ascended, tearing veils of existence as if awakening from a long, deep sleep.

Scarlett was reborn.

No longer just a daughter of fire.

But a living anomaly.

A living force.

A spirit that carried the past, present, and future within her.

Whole. 

Untamable.

Her eyes, now opaque, white as morning mist, stared at the sky.

Her breathing was slow, weak, but the power that emanated from her filled the entire circle.

Grandma Sheila ran, her hands already illuminated by a diagnostic spell.

The sisters surrounded her in an instant, hearts racing, mouths silent.

But Scarlett was no longer just there.

Her spirit had awakened.

She now found herself in a damp, cold field, enveloped by a silvery mist that seemed to dance between worlds.

The soil breathed memories and silence.

And ahead...

A black oak tree stood like an ancient sentinel.

Its twisted branches were the bones of time, its roots plunged into the confines of existence.

From its branches hung silver veils, threads of destiny not yet woven.

Underneath it, a man.

Beautiful. Tall. Silent. Eyes as sad as eternal winter.

He didn't say a word.

He didn't need to.

She knew, with the certainty of someone looking at their own reflection, that this was the other half of her soul.

To the right, a red she-wolf — as alive and fiery as fire itself.

Scarlet eyes, fixed on her, as if guarding her forever.

To the left, a constant bonfire, whose flame crackled without consuming, like a living memory.

Scarlett was at the center.

And there, without words, she understood:

That man was waiting for her. Always had been.

The pain he carried echoed hers.

His loneliness was a mirror.

Eternity... was the price.

The Awakening

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden light on the wooden floor.

The smell of burned herbs still lingered in the air, dense and sacred.

Scarlett opened her eyes.

Her chest rising and falling gently.

For a moment, her eyes glowed with a reddish hue — embers lit in the darkness.

Around her, love.

Bonnie, holding her hand, smiled through tears.

Mei held back laughter and tears at the same time, emotion escaping through her watery eyes.

Elena hid her tears by silently wiping her face, the posture of a doctor replaced by that of a sister.

Caroline, firm, watched in silence — eyes full of pride and contained fear.

Sheila approached and returned the bracelet to her.

But now, the amulet was not just a shield.

It was alive.

Warm.

Pulsed like a second heart.

An anchor. A weapon.

The old Scarlett had died.

The new one... had awakened.

Somewhere

While Scarlett's eyes reopened to the world, in a realm between worlds — where time is just a whispered memory and space does not obey the logic of the living — an ancient vampire awoke.

His eyes opened in the dark, amidst ancient tapestries, consumed candles, and books that whispered forgotten names.

There was no sound.

There was no touch.

But there was a call.

A thread.

A sigh.

A vibration in the fabric of destiny.

He felt it.

And he knew.

She had awakened.

He rose calmly.

Walked to the window.

Opened a crack.

The dawn light kissed his pale skin.

And for the first time in ages...

He felt peace.

In the air, a subtle perfume: iron, dew... and ancient female magic.

His eyes darkened.

A whisper escaped his lips:

"Finally."

────✧────

Even before the ritual, Scarlett was already powerful.

Her magic didn't come from formulas or books.

It was pure, raw instinct.

Since childhood, her energy had responded to emotions.

If she felt fear, the house trembled.

If she felt anger, glass exploded.

When she cried, the air became dense, as if the world suffered with her.

There was a day... a drunk man tried to scare her on the street.

She screamed.

And he was thrown against the wall, unconscious.

Without her even touching him.

Sheila always said:

"You need control before power, my child."

But Scarlett knew.

There was something buried inside her.

A wild, ancient core.

And the ritual finally unlocked that essence.

Now, spells didn't require words.

The air rippled around her when she walked.

Candles bowed to her presence.

The spiritual world whispered her name.

She didn't conjure magic.

She was magic.

But Scarlett was never just a spell.

From an early age, she loved fighting.

She loved the body's movement, the impact, the discipline.

She would drag her sisters to self-defense training.

At the time, it seemed like just a precaution.

Now, it was prophetic preparation.

Under Sheila's tutelage, magic and physical combat merged.

Fist and incantation.

Strength and spell.

Body and spirit as a single weapon.

After the ritual, her body had become immortal — like the first immortal in the world.

Cuts healed in seconds.

Bullets ricocheted.

Superhuman reflexes.

Time no longer touched her.

But immortality brought with it a curse.

The thirst.

At first, she believed it was hunger.

Then, she thought it was instinct.

But she soon realized: it was something deeper.

It wasn't a lack of control.

It was a ritual.

A single enchanted drop was enough.

A ceremonial chalice satiated her for weeks.

That drop, prepared with ancient magic and the essence of the Bennett lineage, maintained her balance.

She wasn't a vampire.

She was more.

The blood strengthened her.

But she dominated it.

Never the other way around.

She was not a slave to the thirst.

She was its master.

However, her strength didn't only come from immortality.

Scarlett was gracefully lethal.

Made of steel and dance.

Of instinct and purpose.

Warrior. Guardian.

Sister.

And she had chosen:

"To protect, always."

────✧────

The first time her wings appeared, Scarlett believed she was dying.

It was night.

She dreamed of the black oak.

The man was there.

His hand extended.

But, upon trying to touch him... a pain shot through her back.

Burning. Excruciating.

She woke up screaming, her body arched.

And then... the wings opened.

Red. Luminous. Incandescent.

As if their feathers were made of fire and blood.

They broke the bedroom ceiling.

Sheila fell to her knees, murmuring prayers that no one else knew.

Scarlett cried.

Not from pain, but from memory.

An echo of a familiar sensation.

A déjà vu of freedom.

'You've flown before. When you were little. When he held you...'

She didn't know who he was.

But her heart screamed a name that her lips couldn't pronounce.

The wings were a part of her.

Celestial.

But with an infernal touch.

The mark of her fatherhood.

She learned to hide them.

To control them.

Flying was freedom.

But also responsibility.

The day she became a wolf was also the day she killed.

Bonnie, naive and new to college, trusted a charming tutor.

But he was a degenerate warlock, a collector of stolen powers.

He wanted to rip something out of her.

Scarlett arrived in time.

And didn't think.

Acting with supernatural speed, she broke the warlock's neck.

He fell like a rag doll.

The scream that escaped her throat was not human.

Her body expanded.

Bones cracked.

Skin transformed into fur.

And then the Scarlet Wolf appeared.

Huge. Majestic.

Ruby eyes.

It leaped through the window and disappeared into the night, leaving only silence.

And Bonnie, in shock.

When Scarlett returned to human form, she was naked and bloody.

Kneeling. Trembling. Crying.

"It was for her..." she whispered.

"He was going to hurt Bonnie."

Sheila wrapped her in her coat, murmuring:

"I know, dear. You protected your sister. And that... is everything."

And every day, Scarlett felt it.

Her essence pulsing like a lost song, found again.

The ritual had awakened her.

But that power... had always been there.

Asleep.

Waiting.

Back in the present, the warmth of the amulet dissipated.

She let out a sigh and let the memories settle.

Mei's ritual awaited her.

Scarlett hoped her sister's transformation would be smooth.

She fell asleep, with the certainty that they were ready for whatever came.

Mei didn't know what awaited her.

But Scarlett knew who they were.

And what they were going to protect.

And so, destiny began to move toward the inevitable.

Chapter Text

The forest was the sisters Morningstar's sanctuary and private battleground.

Sun blades stabbed through the dense tree canopy, igniting the ethereal mist that danced over the damp ground.

In the center of the clearing, Scarlett was a gray blur, a study in motion and contained fury. The deadliest in combat, she moved like a shadow detached from her body, swift and relentless. She spun, dodged, and attacked in a silent symphony of strength.

Even containing her supernatural speed, the remaining agility was enough to steal the breath of any mortal.

Her sisters — Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie — formed an attentive circle, energy crackling between them. Each was a predator at rest, ready to leap into the dance at any moment.

Apart, under the shade of an ancient oak, Mei, the only human among them, watched with her heart pounding against her ribs. Her large, expressive eyes absorbed every detail.

Her strength did not reside in Scarlett's steel muscles, nor in Caroline's feline agility. Mei was built of a different matter: the grace of a ballerina. A delicacy that her sisters did not see as weakness, but as a secret weapon.

"Remember, Mei," Elena’s voice, always a balm, cut through the tension. Her lilac eyes, filled with ancestral wisdom, fixed on her younger sister. "Your strength is not in brutality. It resides in your sharp mind, your fluid grace, your precise agility."

"And the element of surprise," added Caroline, the strategist, a fox-like grin dancing on her lips. "No one expects art to become a weapon. Use the shock to your advantage. It’s your ace in the hole."

Bonnie, whose veins seemed to pulse with the very sap of the forest, stepped forward.

"The Earth beneath your feet, the Fire in your spirit, the Water in your blood, and the Air in your lungs... they are not obstacles, Mei. They are your partners. Dance with them, and the whole world will dance with you."

Scarlett stopped abruptly, the air settling around her. The ferocity in her eyes was replaced by a gleam of immense pride.

"The fight is a conversation between bodies, Mei. It's about intellect, strategy, and connection. You have all that overflowing. Now, show us."

With those words, she stepped back, opening the stage for her youngest sister.

"It's your turn."

Mei closed her eyes, inhaling deeply the smell of wet earth and decaying leaves.

For an instant, the entire forest seemed to hold its breath with her.

She felt the firm ground beneath her feet, the caress of the breeze on her face, the warmth of the sun kissing her skin.

She was not a warrior. She was a dancer. And that was her stage.

When she opened her eyes, the fear had dissipated, replaced by a radiant calm.

She didn't fight. She flowed.

Every parry was a port de bras. Every dodge, a perfectly executed plié.

The sisters, once judges, became an enchanted audience.

Mei didn't face them on equal terms; she enveloped them, using her unique style not just to defend herself, but to weave a disconcerting web of movements.

Scarlett launched a low attack, a blade of wind skimming the ground, but Mei, instead of leaping, spun into a dizzying fouetté, her extended leg drawing an arc that nullified the blow with a disarming beauty.

Caroline tried to corner her with a complex tactic, but Mei surprised her, using her sister's own momentum against her in a maneuver that defied the logic of battle.

Elena wove subtle illusions to confuse her, but Mei remained a beacon of focus, her center of gravity unwavering.

Finally, Bonnie smiled, accepting the challenge on a deeper level.

With a subtle gesture, she made vine tentacles emerge from the earth, coiling toward Mei.

The young woman danced among them, gliding over the damp ground as if it were a mirror of ice.

But a treacherous root, commanded by Bonnie's amused smile, lassoed her ankle, pulling her into a gentle fall.

Mei sighed, laughter bubbling in her chest as she felt the soft grass on her back.

"That's not fair, Bonnie!"

"Oh, that was delightfully fun," Bonnie replied, extending a hand to help her up. "You are absolutely exceptional, Mei."

In the end, all were breathless, but Mei was smiling from ear to ear.

She hadn't won. But she had conquered something much greater: doubt.

She had proven to herself that her body, allied with her incipient magic, was an instrument of power.

"You are a ballerina, Mei," Scarlett said, a genuine smile transforming her beautiful face. "A supernatural ballerina."

The forest, once a battleground, was now a stage consecrated to the human sister's dance.

She still didn't possess their titanic strength, but she had her own.

And that, for now, was enough.

────✧────

"Well, that’s enough for today," Scarlett declared, and a chorus of relieved sighs echoed through the clearing.

Even for immortals with an accelerated healing factor, a break was very welcome.

"Thank all the gods!" exclaimed Mei, laughing, the sweat mixed with the forest dew streaming down her face. "Now that we're done, how about something fun? A swim at the waterfalls. What do you think?"

"Yes, please!" Bonnie's voice was pure excitement, her eyes shining with the promise of cold water.

"Yes. We urgently need a bath!" Elena said, amused.

"I'm in, but first..." Caroline began, her eyebrows arching in pure mischief. "Bikinis!"

"Show us the way, Care." Scarlett replied with a smile.

With a snap of her fingers, Caroline tore a shimmering rip in the air. A portal opened, buzzing with energy, revealing the illuminated kitchen of the Bennett house.

There, Sheila, Bonnie's grandmother, was calmly preparing tea.

The sudden appearance of five sweaty, leaf-covered young women in her kitchen made her jump, the cup rattling in the saucer.

"By the beard of Merlin!" she murmured, the fright quickly turning into an affectionate smile as she saw her granddaughters' faces.

They rushed through the portal like a hurricane of joy, each leaving a loud kiss on Sheila's cheek as they ran upstairs.

"Sorry for the scare, Grandma!" Bonnie shouted from the top of the stairs.

Sheila just chuckled, a husky, warm sound, shaking her head. Their chaos was the music of her home.

"We’re going swimming, Grandma! Don't you want to come?" Elena invited, already back, a towel draped over her shoulder and a smile on her face.

"Ah, dear, I'll pass," Sheila said, her eyes twinkling. "I have some academic ghosts to exorcise at the college. Have fun for me."

"Will do!" Elena replied. As soon as her sisters came down, she reopened the portal. The sound of the waterfalls' thunder invaded the kitchen for a brief second.

With a final wave to their grandmother, they crossed the threshold and, in the blink of an eye, were back in nature, the air vibrating with the power of the water.

"This is the life!" Bonnie shouted, stripping down to just her bikini.

Without hesitation, she took a running leap and jumped off the cliff in a perfect arc, cutting the water's surface like an arrow.

"Show-off!" Caroline screamed, laughing, before jumping in right after with a noisy cannonball that splashed water everywhere.

"Children," Scarlett laughed, exchanging a complicit look with Elena and Mei. In a synchronized, graceful movement, the redhead jumped, her body tracing parallel paths in the air.

"Come on, Mei, we can't be left out!" Elena exclaimed, already preparing to jump.

"No way!" Mei replied.

Hand in hand, they ran and dove together, their cries of joy mixing with the roar of the waterfall.

There, in the crystal-clear waters, they were not beings of immeasurable power; they were just girls.

Scarlett was not the implacable combatant or the intimidating lawyer, but the older sister who loved the sensation of a deep dive.

Bonnie was not the primordial witch or the perceptive psychologist, but the one who let out the sharpest scream at the shock of the cold water.

Elena was not the enigmatic-eyed immortal or the dedicated doctor, but the gentle soul who felt complete in the communion with her sisters.

Caroline was not the personification of chaos or the designer trying to order it, but the adventurer seeking the next thrill.

And Mei, in her precious humanity, was not the dance teacher, but the youngest, free to err, to laugh, to be simply loved.

They were a coven, a pack, a force of nature.

But above all, they were sisters.

"Just thinking that we have work tomorrow, I already want to freeze time and stay here forever," said Caroline, floating on her back, her eyes closed against the sun.

"As tempting as that is, I don't think the space-time continuum would appreciate it," Elena replied with an amused smile.

"And Grandma would give us a historic scolding. Again," Bonnie reminded them.

"She would forgive us," said Mei, with a wink that encouraged Caroline's rebellion.

"We can't," Scarlett's voice was soft, but final.

"Oh, we can," Bonnie corrected.

With a subtle movement of her fingers in the water, she levitated Mei to the rock they jumped from.

Mei screamed, a mix of fright and delight, before launching herself into a series of aerial acrobatics.

"We just shouldn't," Bonnie finished, with an enigmatic smile.

"That was spectacular, Mei!" Caroline applauded.

The five sisters stayed there, suspended in the time they dared not stop, until the sun began its lazy descent.

Later, in an improvised studio that smelled of turpentine and magic, peace took on a different form.

Bonnie, given over to her first passion, stared at a family photograph—a sunny picnic, all of them with Sheila.

With brushstrokes that were both delicate and firm, she not only reproduced the image on the canvas but immortalized the feeling of that day. The laughter imprinted in the photograph seemed to be reflected in every color that emerged under her brush.

On the Persian rug, Mei lay on her stomach, her song notebook open.

In childhood, she danced around Bonnie while her sister painted; now, her own art flourished in the stillness, the pen dancing on the paper in search of the perfect melody.

A faint scratch echoed each time the pen tip marked the sheet, creating a soft counterpoint to the sound of pages turning on the sofa.

There, Scarlett had found refuge in a book, her features relaxed as she traveled between the lines.

Beside her, Caroline was sketching in a notebook. They weren't design projects, but silk secrets and ambition: the first drafts for the dress brand she dreamed of. Her eyes shone, already envisioning future fashion shows and creations.

Sitting near them, Elena was finalizing the last pages of her novel—a story woven from a vivid dream she had during her 21st-birthday ritual. Each sentence seemed to carry not just fiction, but memories and fragments of her soul.

And in the main armchair, like a queen on her throne, Grandma Sheila read her grimoire. The light from the lamp illuminated the ancient runes, casting mystical shadows across the walls.

She was the anchor.

The guardian of their legacy.

These were the moments.

Moments when silence was not empty, but a silent symphony of souls in harmony.

There, in that sanctuary of creativity and affection, the weight of the worlds the six women carried on their shoulders did not matter.

The only thing that mattered was the simple, overwhelming beauty of being together.

The outer universe, with its threats and demands, could wait.

Inside, the only superpower that reigned was their unity.

────✧────

The silence of the studio was a tapestry woven with threads of peace and creativity, a harmony so perfect it seemed eternal.

And then, it was shattered.

Not broken, but violently ripped apart by a sound that should never exist in that sacred space.

Grandma Sheila—the granite anchor upon which the family stood—emitted a scream of pure horror and pain, a sharp, fractured sound that froze the blood in the Morningstar sisters' veins and made the very air vibrate with agony.

Five heads turned in a sync of panic.

Five hearts stumbled and then raced into a war drum rhythm.

The scene before them was a profanation.

The ancient grimoire, normally an object of wisdom and comfort in Sheila’s hands, convulsed in a demonic frenzy. Its pages turned by themselves, a storm of parchment moved by an invisible, malevolent wind, so fast that the edges seemed about to disintegrate.

A ghostly luminescence—purple, sickly, and pulsing—radiated from the open book, bathing the studio in a nightmare light. The shadows twisted into misshapen creatures, transforming the sisters' faces into masks of terror.

Then came the worst.

From the swirling pages, an unknown symbol, woven of light and liquid darkness, emerged. It did not float. It lunged, ravenous, searing itself into Sheila's skin with the violence of a branding iron.

A subtle hiss.

The smell of ozone and burnt flesh.

And the scream that seemed to tear out her soul.

The mark glowed agonizingly on the matriarch's palm before being absorbed into the skin, leaving behind a scar that seemed to burn not just the flesh, but her very essence.

Mei was the first to break the paralysis.

Driven by a primal and fierce instinct, she launched herself toward her grandmother, her tunnel vision focused only on the injured hand. Sheila's scream still echoed in her ears.

"Grandma, are you okay?" her voice was a trembling thread, her hands touching Sheila's face with desperate delicacy.

The matriarch nodded, a difficult, spasmodic movement.

The other sisters, freed from the spell by Mei's movement, converged, a whirlwind of fear and protection. They knelt around Sheila, who was shaking uncontrollably, gasping, her eyes flooded with tears of shock.

Color had fled from her face, leaving a gray, cadaverous pallor.

Suddenly, the page of the grimoire from which the symbol was born glowed again—a softer light, but no less sinister.

Upon the ancient parchment, as if written by a ghost pen, an enigmatic message began to form, letter by letter, in a whisper of light.

The sisters held their breath.

Their eyes fixed on the warning.

They read together, their voices joining in a haunted chorus that barely dared to disturb the terrified silence:

'Beware! Evil approaches. Prepare yourselves. She will come for all of you.'

The air in the studio became dense, heavy, almost unbreathable.

The message glowed for one last, long instant, like the gaze of a specter bidding farewell, and then dissolved into nothing, leaving the page empty.

The silence that remained was filled with a mute, suffocating terror.

They looked at each other, their widened eyes reflecting the same terrifying question.

The world, which moments before was a refuge, had contracted, becoming a trap.

The enemy was no longer at the gates.

It had invaded their sanctuary.

Their soul.

Their family.

The dancing, the painting, the writing—everything turned gray before the overwhelming cold of the fear that now united them.

The threat was not for one.

It was for all.

The hunt had begun.

"Come, Grandma." Bonnie's voice, though shaky, regained a hint of her proactive authority.

She helped Sheila stand and gently settled her on the sofa. Taking the injured hand, she whispered an ancient spell, and a soft, golden light enveloped the scar.

"Thank you, my child," Sheila thanked her, her sigh still laden with tremor.

"What the hell was that?" Caroline's voice was rough, a mix of anger and apprehension.

"We don't know," Elena replied, her hand pressed against her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

"But we will find out." Scarlett's voice was a rock, her face an unshakeable mask. But inside, a serpent of icy panic coiled in her stomach.

A panic not for herself, but for them.

For all of them.

Mei hugged Sheila, a gesture of pure relief at seeing her recover, the need for physical comfort overcoming the shock.

"I'm fine, dear," the matriarch said, her voice regaining strength, returning the embrace.

Bonnie handed a steaming cup of tea into her grandmother's hands.

"It was a warning," she said, her eyes distant, analyzing the memory of the magical event. "I didn't feel the intention of a direct threat. It seemed... a desperate alert."

"An alert? It burned Grandma!" Caroline retorted, confused, the image of scorched flesh etched into her mind.

"Many witches do that," Scarlett explained, her gaze meeting Bonnie's in a silent understanding.

"...When the warning needs to be delivered through magical barriers," Elena completed the reasoning, her voice almost a whisper.

"That was anything but subtle!" Mei's voice was firm, in her concern and protection seeing only the violence. "It was an attack."

"Damn, you're right. It was a disguise. Or..." the realization hit Caroline like lightning, her eyes widening. "Something must be preventing them from contacting us."

Sheila sighed, a heavy sound that drew all eyes.

"It was the ancestors. Our ancestors," she said, her gaze fixed on Bonnie, her voice charged with a gravity that sent a shiver down everyone's spine. "The Bennett women ripped the veil to warn us. Something terrible is coming."

The matriarch stood up.

The trembling woman of moments ago disappeared, replaced by a figure of power and unwavering determination.

"We need to be on maximum alert. Mei's ritual is approaching. Until then, nothing can happen to her. But even after... you have to protect yourselves."

Every word was a decree, a weight that settled upon all their shoulders.

They nodded in unison, a silent pact of protection.

The day, which had begun in harmony and light, ended in shadows and omens.

Each retreated to her room, but not for sleep. They went to vigil, their senses sharpened, their hearts heavy with a new and terrible clarity.

Throughout the house, whispers of protection spells echoed, weaving barriers of light and intention, especially around the rooms of the two humans in the family.

But even with the magic buzzing in the air, a cold dread had set in.

An unwanted tenant whispering that no wall, magical or otherwise, would be enough for what was to come.

In the solitude of her room, Sheila Bennett stared intently at the wall, still trying to understand the vision she had had when the symbol burned her skin.

With a sigh, she vowed to find out.

Chapter Text

The smell of antiseptic at Mystic Falls General Hospital was a second skin to Elena.

In the diagnostic room, the cold light of the monitor illuminated the aged face of the patient, Mrs. Peterson.

"The biopsy you had will give us the definitive result," Elena said, her tone gentle, yet firm. "But please, let me be honest. I see signs that lead me to believe the best course is to start treatment as quickly as possible."

Elena didn't need the tests.

Even before the report arrived, the illness unfolded in her mind like fine lines of dark smoke, sinuous and precise. Every organ, every cell, every point of fragility was revealed before her—a silent map only she could read.

No heartbeat accelerated, no gasp betrayed surprise. For everyone else, it was just routine; for her, the pulse of life and death throbbed in invisible colors.

After reassuring the patient, Elena left the room and headed to the hospital cafeteria.

As she walked, the patients' thoughts and pains intertwined in her mind like threads of energy. The responsibility weighed heavily, but it also propelled her—an invisible current that drove her without choice, between exhaustion and clarity.

With a sandwich in hand, she sat in a corner, far from the hustle.

For a moment, her mind was free of charts and diagnoses.

The smell of coffee mixed with a dizzying sensation. A shiver ran down her spine. Visions of flowers, stones, and ancestral corners unfolded in her mind—and the memory of her ritual erupted...

Vivid.

Cutting.

Frightening.

The fear.

The uncertainty.

The overwhelming feeling that something greater than herself was happening.

She remembered the voice of Grandma Sheila, the cards arranged in a circle, the advice laden with ancestral weight.

And the burden of being the family's healer.

For Elena Gilbert Morningstar, a doctor by vocation and a witch by lineage, the calling did not come like thunder.

It came as a whisper.

An invisible flow beneath her patients' skin, revealing a world beyond anatomy and reason.

She felt life in a way no medical textbook could teach.

And no matter how hard she tried to cling to logic, the supernatural pulled her like an inevitable current.

After Scarlett's awakening, something changed. Something profound.

Elena began to see beyond flesh and bone.

Faint auras danced around the patients, vibrating in invisible colors and pulses. Rivers of energy flowed beneath human skin, and illnesses without apparent cause revealed themselves in tones, shapes, and sounds that only she could understand.

Grandma Sheila knew.

The Anomaly in Elena was awakening.

And it needed to be guided—before it consumed her, before it unbalanced her.

The ritual was scheduled for Elena's twenty-first birthday, celebrated in the most sacred place they knew: Grandma Sheila's secret garden—a sanctuary of balance and growth, where every flower seemed to hold a secret and every breath of wind carried wisdom.

The breeze brought the damp scent of petals and the gentle murmur of leaves. The five sisters were gathered, hands intertwined, forming a circle that pulsed like a heart.

Scarlett led the ritual. Her presence radiated a silent, ancient, almost palpable power—the kind of strength that doesn't impose itself, but simply exists.

The Mirror of Truth

Before a clear lake, Elena knelt.

The surface reflected her soul—and in it, the paradox.

First, the doctor: tired, yet firm eyes, surrounded by a brown warmth of healing.

Beside it, the shadow: a specter of icy lilac eyes and a smile that was half caress, half promise of destruction.

She saw the vast complexity of herself—the doctor who trusted science, the witch who listened to the whispers of nature, the savior and the dark one.

She did not look away.

She accepted the cold touch of the shadow's ice and the soft warmth of the light's fire.

The reflection smiled. And, with it, the entire lake seemed to breathe.

Elena reached out and touched the surface—the water was cold, alive, pulsing beneath her skin.

A circular wave spread, enveloping her legs, her hands, her heart. The current ran through her completely, as if the lake recognized her choice: to become whole, to flow between opposing forces without resistance.

She smiled back, feeling the vibration echo down to her bones. The surface gently rippled, reverberating the moment her soul recognized itself.

It wasn't just a reflection.

It was decision. It was action. It was power.

The witch and the doctor, the light and the shadow, were now united—and the water was the silent seal of that union.

The Soul's Song

She closed her eyes.

The sisters chanted an ancient incantation—deep, ancestral.

The sound grew in spirals of golden dust, floating over the heads of the five sisters.

Elena felt the chant not just in her ears, but in her bones.

Her body vibrated like the pillars of an old church, whispering forgotten secrets.

And then, she understood: she knew how to sing it too.

The song of her soul.

And of the universe.

When she opened her mouth, the sound that escaped was not human—it was a third voice, dense and primordial, like the echo of a sleeping mountain.

The garden soil vibrated beneath her feet, and the scent of Grandma Sheila's flowers mingled with the warm air.

The petals bowed in reverence to the newfound harmony.

An invisible thread connected her heart to eternity.

She breathed in the rhythm of this universal harmony,

feeling herself part of the same pulse that moved stars and storms.

Even when the sound ceased, the chant still vibrated within her—silent, eternal.

The Weave of Life

With bare hands, Elena approached the ancient loom.

It was covered in dust and magic.

The threads of darkness were not cotton—they were black smoke, very fine, made of pain, memory, and fury.

The threads of light, in contrast, looked like liquid crystal: bright, pulsating, the pure essence of hope.

She took them without hesitation.

The echo of the chant still resonated within her when she began to weave.

She mixed colors. Created loops. Intertwined knots.

The sound of the loom accompanied her breathing—a gentle compass, like the beating of her own heart.

With each throw of the shuttle, the black smoke thickened before being tied down by the liquid crystal.

The shadow did not dissolve, but was contained, delineated by the light.

The pain transformed.

The imperfection revealed its own beauty.

In silence, she thought of the scars she once tried to hide.

Now she understood: each one of them was an essential thread in her tapestry.

When the weaving ceased, a small piece of fabric rested in her hands.

In it were all her united fragments—

Light and shadow.

Laughter and tears.

Courage and fear.

A sacred fragment of the cosmos, contained in her hands—

pulsing with a lilac mist that breathed along with her.

The Touch of Balance

Two stones were placed in her hands.

A black obsidian—protection, depth, shadow.

A clear quartz crystal—healing, clarity, light.

Elena felt the heat of the obsidian burning, almost cold.

She felt the lightness of the quartz pulsating with vitality.

She pressed them against her chest.

The doctor, who trusted touch, felt the cellular structure beneath the quartz.

The witch, who trusted energy, perceived the flow of the cosmos beneath the obsidian.

The instant the two stones touched the center of her chest, a lilac electric arc flashed, aligning her internal axis—opposites that did not cancel each other out, but completed one another.

In the touch of the obsidian, she perceived the silent weight of the world's pain.

In the touch of the quartz, she felt the lightness of hope.

And, in the subtle shock between the two, she found balance.

The doctor and the witch were one.

Body and soul intertwined, shadows and light dancing in perfect harmony.

Every breath wove the very essence of the universe within her.

The Chalice of Unity

A rustic chalice, made of ancestral ceramic, was passed to her.

Inside it, drops of blood dripped from her sisters' hands—

each drop, a bond; each cut, a silent vow of union and strength.

The aroma was sweet, earthy, ancient.

Laden with ancestral memories and promises.

The amulet around her neck didn't just pulse—it glowed.

A white-lilac flash illuminated the faces of the five sisters as Elena drank.

The blood was dense, but the energy set every cell on fire, elevated every beat of her heart.

Her eyes opened, revealing a lilac depth that seemed to absorb all the light of the garden.

Her body did not fall; it floated for an instant—rigid, vibrant—before being supported by her sisters.

The air around them smelled of electricity and ancient magic.

Then, she closed her eyes.

She was still smiling, even in sleep.

Within that sleep, she was waking up.

Waking up to herself.

To the strength she carried.

To the bond that united her to her sisters, to magic, and to the destiny that now flowed through her entire being.

The Glass Dream

Elena was in an empty house, made entirely of glass.

Light danced in infinite reflections, multiplying every movement.

The crystal floor displayed dark blood on the walls—but, from the transparent ground, vivid flowers, red as embers, sprouted.

An impossible contrast. Beautiful. Painful.

A piano played alone.

The melody was melancholic and pure, echoing through the silence of the glass.

And in front of the fireplace—whose flame burned with a gentle, constant glow—she danced.

She danced with a faceless man, whose presence enveloped her like a warm cloak.

He did not speak.

But his hands whispered—on the curve of her waist, on her skin, in the air.

She felt peace and loss at the same time.

A familiarity that hurt.

His scent was fire and cedar—strange, unforgettable.

And his eyes, even nameless, were deep as abysses, full of an ancient understanding.

The melody slowed.

The light curved around them.

And Elena realized—she was dancing with duality.

With the shadow and the light, accepting them in the same beat.

The Awakening

The golden light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the curtains of the Bennett house.

The scent of burnt herbs and the energy of the ritual still hung in the air.

Elena was lying among her sisters.

Caroline hugged her.

Bonnie held her hand.

Mei stroked her hair.

Scarlett watched in silence—her gaze fixed, protective.

She sat up slowly.

Her mind clearer than ever.

Her body vibrating with a new energy—profound.

Every heartbeat echoed in her ears.

Every leaf moving outside, every gust of wind, resonated within her.

As if the world breathed along with her.

Elena felt her body, mind, and soul expand.

Light and shadow danced together inside her, weaving a harmony previously impossible.

She didn't need to name herself. Just feel.

For an instant, time seemed to curve around her.

The air became denser, almost sacred.

And she understood.

The old Elena—the human doctor—had been transmuted.

Now...

she was immortal.

Divided in her essence,

but complete in her duality.

Somewhere...

In a room with arched windows, walls lined with ancient books, and the aroma of centuries permeating the air, an ancestral-souled vampire paused his reading.

The night was serene; the moon shed silver light through the windowpanes.

But something in his breathing became dense, heavy, as if the air had been altered by an unknown—viscerally familiar—essence.

He raised his eyes from his treatise on Celtic mythology.

The notes in the margin, previously important, suddenly seemed insignificant.

The yellowed pages whispered ancestral secrets.

The fireplace burned with a gentle glow, casting dancing shadows on his disciplined face. Always contained. Always silent.

But on that night... something broke inside.

An invisible thread pulled at his spirit.

It spanned centuries.

As if something he didn't know he was looking for had finally emerged.

He felt tenderness.

And a melancholy so delicate that it seemed to hurt.

As if a soul very much like his own had been touched by eternity.

A soul that understood the beauty in ruin, life in death, the dance of duality.

And she had called him.

Without a voice.

Without words.

Just with a faint vibration in the immortal blood that still dared to circulate in his veins.

He closed his eyes.

For an instant—just one—he saw:

A golden field.

A woman kneeling on the earth.

Eyes tear-filled, but firm.

Face like a veil of mist.

Something in her posture.

In the way she touched the ground.

In the way she faced her own shadows.

He leaned in, as if he could hear her breathe.

It wasn't love. Not yet.

It was recognition.

A shattered mirror of an unlived past.

It was the silent confirmation of a sealed destiny.

He inhaled slowly.

The vision dissolved.

The air in the room now seemed only the memory of an unknown scent.

The glass of bourbon in his hand, which he didn't even remember holding, trembled slightly before he set it down on the table.

But the impact remained.

He knew: soon, they would meet.

────✧────

In the first few days, silence was the greatest transformation.

There were no explosions of power.

Just a restless lightness.

As if a new world had sprouted within her, waiting to be explored.

Medicine, her safe harbor, was no longer enough.

Now, Elena saw through bodies.

She heard broken thoughts, especially from those who hurt, those who feared.

She saw silent tumors.

She felt souls that wanted to leave.

She didn't just diagnose.

She felt.

During training with Scarlett, her strength grew like a tide.

She disarmed Caroline with a single gesture, swift and precise.

In dives with Bonnie, she disappeared under the water like a liquid shadow, almost effortlessly.

At night, she wrote.

As if words were the only means to anchor herself to the new Elena emerging beneath her own skin.

The Nightmare

It happened in a dark dream.

Elena ran through mirrored corridors, surrounded by reflections that were not hers.

She heard the voices of dead doctors.

Blood ran down the walls.

Children murmured her name.

When she looked back...

The floor opened up.

She fell.

And screamed.

In the scream, they emerged.

Black wings like ancestral ravens.

Made of pain and light.

Real. Imposing. Painful.

She woke up on the bedroom floor.

Blood and feathers.

Not from the dream. But from herself.

Sheila rushed in.

She found Elena on her knees, wings open like veils of the night.

"I... I don't know how... they came out," Elena whispered, confused.

Sheila simply embraced her, feeling the power radiating from her granddaughter.

"You are being who you always were."

The Proof of Instinct

Elena never wanted to kill.

For her, death was a system failure.

But when the threat came to Sheila, instinct spoke first.

A warlock invaded the Bennett garden.

Obsessed with the power of the bloodline, he wanted to create a prison world.

For that, he needed Bennett blood.

Elena felt the rupture in the air before she even saw the flash of profane magic.

Sheila fell.

Her abdomen pierced by a magical dagger.

"Grandma!" Elena roared.

With supernatural speed, she reached the enemy.

Her fingers closed around his heart.

The warlock collapsed before realizing the danger, his body slumping lifelessly while the organ still pulsed in her hands.

She turned to Sheila.

Lilac eyes blazing.

Power boiling in her veins.

She healed her grandmother with a firm touch, the skin regenerating beneath her fingers.

But before she could breathe...

The pain became a roar in her throat.

Her knees buckled.

She felt the earth in her hands as her skin stretched and tore.

Rage was the only form.

The world narrowed to the smell of blood and the need for the hunt.

The wolf within her awakened, fueled by the pain and fury of seeing Sheila injured.

She ran into the forest.

When she returned to human form, fallen in the rain, Sheila was there.

Eyes kind and full of acceptance.

"Thank you, darling. Don't blame yourself. Death, sometimes, is the gift that balances the scale."

That night, Elena cried in Bonnie's arms.

She allowed the emotion of the transformation and the first blood to overwhelm her.

Mei dressed her gently, in silence.

Scarlett and Caroline watched from outside, a living wall of protection.

The next morning, Elena wrote.

Like never before.

About the pain.

About the wings.

About the blood.

About the fact that, even after killing, she still felt like herself.

At the end of the last notebook, she signed.

Then, she picked up the dead warlock's dagger.

She felt its evil power.

With a focused look, she reduced it to dust and buried the remains under a flower in the garden.

She knew: she would never back down.

Back in the present, Elena felt: that moment, years ago, had shaped her life.

And now, Mei's ritual was approaching.

The sandwich lost its taste.

A chill ran down her spine.

The familiar thirst, a constant reminder of the duality that now defined her.

But instead of panic, there was only acceptance.

After the warning from the cards and the "attack" the previous night, Elena knew...

No matter what came.

They would face it together.

Elena picked up a bottle of blood.

As she drank, the phone vibrated. Damon was calling.

She smiled, but there was a contained sadness in that gesture.

No matter how hard she tried, the image of the man with black eyes, impeccable suit, dancing with her, would not leave her mind.

In silence, she wondered:

"Is being with Damon the right choice? After everything that happened?"

But her heart, confused and stubborn, whispered yes.

She sighed, staring into nothing, holding the bottle like a link between past and present.

"Damon..." she murmured, only to herself, before answering the call.

The smile returned to her lips, softer, more real, but her eyes still carried the weight of what she couldn't forget.