The night was still — too still. Even the wind seemed to hesitate as though it feared to disturb what destiny had quietly begun.
I stood on the balcony overlooking the city, Aurora asleep behind me, and I felt it.
A tremor in the world — faint, but undeniable. Something had shifted.
Fate was never content to remain still, and when it moved, it whispered to those who could feel it.
And I could feel her.
A presence.
A heartbeat that didn't belong to this century.
Down below, in the quiet of the courtyard, Elijah stood alone. He always did. His composure as perfect as his loneliness.
I descended the stairs, the air between us cool and sharp.
"Elijah," I called.
He turned, brow furrowed. "Niklaus. You look as though you've seen a ghost."
"Not a ghost," I said, stopping beside him. "Something… better."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Do tell."
The Message
"There's a girl," I began, pouring myself a glass of blood-wine. "Eighteen years of age. Mortal, but not ordinary. She shouldn't even exist yet. By nature's design, she was meant to be born centuries from now — and yet here she is, alive, in this century."
Elijah's eyes narrowed. "A paradox?"
"A correction," I mused. "Perhaps a reward. Or perhaps a balance to all I've undone. Either way, she's here — in this time, in this world — and she is meant for you."
He froze. "…Me?"
I nodded, smirking faintly. "Her name is Gia. And she is your one true love, brother. The woman fate promised you long ago. Destiny has simply decided to deliver her a little early."
He laughed softly, disbelieving. "You expect me to believe that destiny has suddenly become kind?"
"I expect you to believe your own heart when you see her," I replied. "She's out there now, Elijah — dark hair, eyes full of starlight and fire. She carries a spirit I've not felt since the old days. I can feel her… as if the universe itself is humming her name."
He stared at me for a long moment, uncertainty written in the lines of his face. "And what would you have me do?"
I smiled. "Find her. Speak to her. See if fate truly means to heal what it once broke."
The Meeting
Later that night, Elijah followed the thread of that unseen pull — a force older than magic, older than prophecy. It drew him through the winding streets of the French Quarter, through the heartbeat of the city itself.
And then he saw her.
A young woman stood by the edge of a crowded street, her dark hair catching the faint light of the lanterns. Her eyes — deep, rich, and alive — scanned the crowd with quiet wonder.
She was exactly as I'd described. Perhaps more.
For a long moment, Elijah simply watched her. Something in his chest shifted — a warmth, an ache he hadn't felt in centuries.
She noticed him then, meeting his gaze across the distance. Neither moved. The noise of the street fell away until there was only silence and the strange familiarity of two souls recognizing something ancient in each other.
Gia tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering across her face. "Can I help you?" she asked softly.
Elijah stepped closer, his voice calm but unsteady. "Perhaps. Though I suspect you've already done more than you realize."
She smiled — hesitant but warm. "Do I know you?"
"Not yet," he said, his tone carrying centuries of weight and something newly fragile. "But I believe you will."
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Elijah Mikaelson felt the stirrings of destiny — not as a burden, but as a promise.
And somewhere far above, on the balcony, I watched from the shadows, a small smile curving my lips.
"Go on, brother," I murmured. "Don't make her wait another thousand years."