CHAPTER 6: ANCESTRAL FIREWALL
"What if we treated possession like a computer virus?"
Davina looked up from the spell diagram she'd been studying, confusion evident. "A what?"
Right. 2012. No smartphones yet, limited internet access for a teenager living in a supernatural sanctuary. Kol sometimes forgot the technology gap between his memories and this time period.
"Computer virus," he repeated, settling beside her with the grimoire. "Malicious code that infiltrates a system and takes control. You have to build defenses—firewalls, antivirus software, authentication protocols."
"I have no idea what any of those words mean."
"I'm going to explain." Kol opened the grimoire to a blank page. "And then we're going to translate the concept into magic. Because I think I just figured out how to protect witches from ancestral possession."
The grimoire hummed approvingly, pages already preparing to record whatever madness Kol was about to propose.
Three days had passed since their cemetery revelation. Three days of planning and research and carefully not revealing to Marcel or anyone else what they'd discovered. The ancestors were getting aggressive—two more attempted possessions in the past week, young witches suddenly speaking with ancient voices, carrying out tasks they'd never agreed to.
Marcel had asked for help. Time to deliver.
"Okay," Kol said, sketching a circle. "Imagine your mind is a house. Right now, the doors have simple locks—your natural mental defenses, basic magical wards. The ancestors can pick those locks because they're stronger and more experienced."
Davina nodded slowly, following along.
"A firewall is like adding multiple security systems at once. Motion sensors, cameras, reinforced doors, panic buttons." He drew concentric circles. "First layer: detection. The spell senses when someone tries to enter your mind without permission."
"Like a boundary spell?"
"Similar, but more sophisticated. It doesn't just detect intrusion—it identifies who's trying to intrude." Kol added runes along the inner circle. "Second layer: authentication. The spell checks identity against a whitelist of allowed presences. You, obviously. Maybe trusted friends or mentors. Everyone else gets blocked."
"But the ancestors are powerful," Davina pointed out. "They could break through multiple barriers eventually."
"Which is where the third layer comes in." Kol completed the diagram. "Auto-counterspell. If something tries to force its way past the authentication, the spell automatically launches a defensive response. Reflects the possession attempt back at the attacker."
Davina stared at the diagram, then at Kol, then back at the diagram. "That's... actually brilliant. And completely insane."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive."
"No, I mean—" She leaned closer, studying the rune work. "This would require maintaining three separate spell effects simultaneously while building in conditional triggers. The magical syntax alone—"
"Would be incredibly complex, yes." Kol pulled up his notes on spell combinations. "But theoretically possible. We'd use IF/THEN logic. IF unauthorized presence detected, THEN authenticate identity. IF authentication fails, THEN activate counterspell."
"IF/THEN logic," Davina repeated slowly, testing the concept. "Like... conditional spellwork?"
"Exactly. Magic that responds dynamically to circumstances instead of just executing one fixed pattern."
The grimoire's pages turned themselves, diagrams appearing as if drawn by invisible hands. The book was excited, Kol realized. Actually excited by the challenge of translating computer programming concepts into magical reality.
They spent hours working through the syntax, Kol describing computational logic while Davina provided the magical grammar to make it functional. He explained nested IF statements and Boolean operators; she translated them into layered runes and power flow channels. His corporate background in systems analysis met her intuitive understanding of how magic moved through the world.
"The detection layer needs to be subtle," Davina said, adding modifications to the outer circle. "If the ancestors sense defensive magic, they'll probe harder. But if it looks like natural mental resistance..."
"They'll think the witch just has strong willpower." Kol grinned. "Perfect. And the counterspell?"
"Nothing lethal. We don't want to kill ancestral spirits—they're still part of the magical ecosystem." Davina chewed her lip, thinking. "But we can make possession extremely unpleasant. Pain reflection, maybe? They try to force their way in, they experience what their victim would have felt."
"Poetic justice. I like it."
The grimoire recorded everything, pages filling with unprecedented magical theory. This was new ground, Kol realized. Original research combining modern logic with ancient power. Neither Kol's memories nor the book's collected spells included anything quite like this.
"We need to test it," Davina said finally, sitting back to examine their work. "On a volunteer who's actually at risk of possession."
"I'll ask Marcel to provide a subject." Kol closed the grimoire carefully. "Someone who's already been possessed once—the ancestors will likely try again, which gives us a real-world scenario."
"And if the spell fails?"
"Then we iterate and improve. That's how development works." Kol stood, offering his hand. "Come on. Let's go pitch Marcel on the idea of using one of his witches as a test subject."
Davina took his hand, letting him pull her up. "He's going to hate this."
"Probably. But he hates ancestral possession more."
Marcel did, in fact, hate the idea.
"You want to use experimental magic on one of my people," he said flatly, arms crossed. "Magic that's never been tested. Magic based on concepts I don't understand. And if it fails, the girl gets possessed again."
"If it succeeds," Kol countered, "you have a defense against the ancestors' primary weapon. Protection for every witch in your Quarter."
They stood in Marcel's study—Kol, Davina, Marcel, and Josh, who'd been summoned as a neutral observer. The young vampire watched the argument like a tennis match, head swiveling between speakers.
"The ancestors have attempted possession six times in the last month," Davina added quietly. "Three succeeded. It's getting worse, Marcel. We need a solution."
Marcel's jaw worked. Kol could see the calculation happening—risk versus reward, the safety of one witch against the safety of all of them.
"Who would we test it on?" Marcel asked finally.
"Chloe," Davina said. "She was possessed two weeks ago, forced to steal magical supplies for the ancestors. They'll likely target her again since she already proved vulnerable."
"And she's willing?"
"I'll ask her." Davina's expression was determined. "But I think she'll say yes. Being possessed was traumatic. If there's a chance to prevent it happening again..."
Marcel sighed, a sound of pure exhaustion. "Fine. But I'm supervising the casting. And if anything goes wrong—"
"It won't," Kol said with more confidence than he felt.
Chloe was nineteen, thin and nervous, with the hunted look Kol had seen on too many of New Orleans' young witches. She sat in the center of a protective circle they'd drawn in Jardin Gris, hands twisted in her lap.
"This won't hurt?" she asked for the third time.
"The casting won't hurt," Kol assured her. "If the ancestors attempt possession and the spell works, they'll experience discomfort, not you."
"And if the spell doesn't work?"
"Then we'll feel it start to fail and pull you out before anything bad happens," Davina said, settling beside her. "I'll be monitoring the whole time."
Chloe nodded, visibly steeling herself. "Okay. I'm ready."
Kol opened the grimoire, and it flipped to the Ancestral Firewall spell they'd developed. The diagram glowed faintly purple-gold, power already building in response to his intent.
He began the incantation, carefully pronouncing each syllable of the hybrid spell-code they'd created. The grimoire fed him power in measured doses—this was complex magic, requiring precise control. He felt his reserves draining steadily. 8%. 12%. 15%.
The outer detection circle inscribed itself around Chloe's aura in silver light. Then the authentication layer, glowing runes that would identify and verify any consciousness that attempted contact. Finally, the counterspell matrix, ready to activate if the first two layers failed.
18% total cost. High for a single spell, but the complexity demanded it.
The magic settled into place, humming softly. To normal senses, it would feel like nothing more than Chloe's natural mental resistance, perhaps slightly stronger than usual. But to Kol's void sense, the spell was a masterpiece—three layered defenses working in perfect harmony.
"How do you feel?" Davina asked.
"Fine. A little tingly, but fine." Chloe looked down at herself, as if expecting to see visible changes. "Did it work?"
"Only one way to find out," Marcel said grimly. "Now we wait."
They didn't have to wait long.
Ten minutes into their vigil, the temperature dropped. Frost spread across the garden's stones. Three ancestral spirits materialized, targeting Chloe with the single-minded focus of predators who'd found easy prey.
Kol felt the moment they attempted possession—a spike of hostile intent, power lashing out toward Chloe's mind.
The detection layer activated first, silver light flaring. The authentication protocol engaged, checking the ancestors' identities against the whitelist. Result: unauthorized access.
The counterspell triggered.
The lead ancestor slammed face-first into an invisible barrier, his incorporeal form rippling with impact. He rebounded, and the spell reflected his possession attempt directly back at him. The spirit's scream was inhuman, a sound of shock and sudden, overwhelming pain.
The other two ancestors tried different angles of attack, probing for weaknesses. The Ancestral Firewall responded to each attempt, barriers shifting and adapting, counterspells launching automatically at every intrusion.
After ninety seconds of futile assault, the ancestors retreated, fury radiating from their spectral forms.
"You dare?" the lead spirit hissed, focusing on Kol. "You dare create magic that blocks the ancestors' rightful authority?"
"I dare create magic that protects the innocent from possession," Kol replied calmly. "What you do with your 'authority' isn't my concern. What you do to living witches very much is."
The ancestor's gaze bore into him, weighing and judging. Then, without another word, they dissolved into shadows.
The silence that followed was absolute.
"Did that actually work?" Josh asked, voice squeaking slightly.
Chloe sat in her circle, unharmed and unpossessed, staring at her hands. "They couldn't touch me. I felt them trying, but they couldn't—" She looked up at Kol with something like awe. "You did it."
Marcel's expression was complicated—impressed, concerned, and calculating all at once. "That's the most innovative defensive magic I've seen in fifty years."
"Thanks," Kol said, suddenly exhausted. The 18% cost combined with the tension of watching his spell actually work left him drained.
Davina was grinning, bright and fierce. "We should offer this to other witches. Anyone who wants protection—"
"Slowly," Marcel interrupted. "Word of this needs to spread carefully. If the ancestors realize you're systematically immunizing their targets, they'll escalate."
"Let them," Kol said. The grimoire hummed agreement against his side. "Every witch we protect is one less vulnerability they can exploit."
They left Jardin Gris an hour later, after removing the Ancestral Firewall from Chloe and teaching her how to identify if someone tried to cast similar magic on her without permission. Marcel had agreed to let them offer the protection to other at-risk witches, though with strict controls on who received it and when.
A figure waited for them outside the garden's entrance.
Sabine Laurent smiled, warm and congratulatory, her eyes holding knowledge far beyond her apparent years. "That was impressive magic, Kol. Truly innovative."
Kol's void sense screamed.
This woman—she wasn't what she appeared. Power radiated from her in waves that had nothing to do with mortal witchcraft. Ancient. Calculated. Dangerous.
"Thank you," he said carefully, every instinct screaming to be cautious. "Just trying to help."
"Oh, I'm sure you are." Sabine's gaze traveled over the Ancestral Firewall's residual magic clinging to his aura. "You know, Celeste Dubois would have appreciated your creativity. She was always interested in new applications of old power."
The world stopped.
Celeste. The witch who'd died and returned, possessing bodies, orchestrating schemes. The woman who'd been Elijah's lover and Klaus's victim. She'd been dead for decades, but—
"She IS Celeste," Kol realized with cold certainty. "Possessing Sabine. Hiding in plain sight."
"I never met her," Kol said, keeping his voice level. "But I've heard the stories."
"Stories rarely do justice to the truth." Sabine's smile widened. "I'm sure you'll discover that yourself, given time. After all, you're creating quite a story of your own."
She walked away, steps unhurried, disappearing into the Quarter's evening crowds.
Davina touched Kol's arm. "You okay? You looked like you saw a ghost."
"Something like that," Kol murmured. His mind raced. Celeste was here, active, watching him. How much did she know? What was she planning?
"What did she mean about Celeste?" Davina pressed.
"I have no idea," Kol lied. "Probably nothing."
But it wasn't nothing. Celeste's attention meant danger, and he had no way to explain how he'd identified her without revealing the void sense or the visions or the entire complicated truth about his resurrection.
They returned to the compound, where Marcel celebrated their success with barely-contained relief. Josh cracked jokes about Kol being a "magical IT guy." Davina basked in the validation that her contributions had been essential.
Kol smiled and participated, but his mind churned with implications.
The grimoire manifested briefly, pages turning to display a single warning: Powerful spirit detected. Threat level: High. Recommend extreme caution.
"Bit late for that," Kol muttered.
Later, after everyone had left and he was alone with his thoughts, Josh found him on the compound's balcony.
"You look worried," the young vampire observed, leaning against the railing. "Should I be worried?"
"Always," Kol said, then softened it with a slight smile. "But specifically? I'm just wondering what else is lurking in the shadows, waiting to make my life complicated."
"Given that you're a Mikaelson, probably everything."
Kol laughed despite himself. "Fair point."
They stood in companionable silence, watching New Orleans settle into its nocturnal rhythms. Somewhere out there, Celeste was planning whatever game she intended to play. The ancestors were regrouping, furious about their new limitations. Klaus was still distant but drawing closer with every passing day.
And Kol—borrowed identity, impossible powers, secrets stacked on secrets—was caught in the center of it all, trying desperately to protect people he'd somehow started to care about.
The void whispered at the edge of his awareness, promising more complications to come.
"You know what?" Kol said suddenly. "I think I preferred being dead."
Josh snorted. "Too late now. You're stuck with us."
"Apparently so."
And despite everything—the danger, the deception, the weight of impossible expectations—Kol found he didn't entirely mind being stuck.
Even if it would probably get him killed.
Again.
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