Michael stood at the center of the room, with a relaxed posture and before him stood Tamara.
Five others flanked her, witches of the Order, each bearing the same quiet, disciplined stillness. These were not coven-born idealists or reckless spell-flingers. These were witches who had chosen him. Sworn themselves to his cause, to his will.
Michael's gaze swept over them once before he spoke.
"I've been trying to see if I can get any residue from the blot but it would seem there's nothing there for me to use" he said calmly. "As I was saying, it's more like an anchor and whatever the banshee initiated down there altered the spell's intent. Which means tracking her through conventional means will be… inefficient."
Tamara crossed her arms. "So we need something better."
"Precisely."
He turned around while pacing slowly. "I want a method that tracks the corruption itself or better yet I need a way to track the prescence she leaves behind when she moves."
One of the witches frowned while another nodded, already thinking through ritual matrices.
Tamara spoke again. "This creature she was trying to create, what exactly was it?"
Michael stopped and looked at her for a moment, "That," he said, "is the problem."
He turned and walked toward the far wall, where a collection of antiques sat behind reinforced glass, they were tye objects gathered across centuries. He reached a discreet panel, pressed his palm against it, and the wall slid open to reveal a safe behind it.
Michael reached in and pulled out a book.
It was a massive thick leather binding, edges reinforced with darkened metal and its pages were all yellowed.
"I don't yet know what they were trying to create," he said as he closed the safe and returned. "But I intend to."
He placed the book down in front of Tamara and the table thudded.
Tamara's eyes widened slightly. She opened it carefully.
"What is this?" she asked. Then, glancing up at him, "A record?"
Michael shook his head. "No. Not really."
He rested his hands behind his back.
"This is a bestiary. I acquired it roughly five hundred years ago from… an enthusiast of the supernatural."
Tamara raised a brow. "An enthusiast?"
"A man better known for paint than parchment," Michael replied dryly.
"He had an eye for monsters," Michael continued. "Not just how they looked but what they meant. He collected stories, sketches, firsthand accounts. Most would dismiss it now as eccentricity."
Tamara closed the book slowly. "And what will you be doing?"
Michael straightened back up with eyes glinting with amusement.
"Hm." He considered it. "If my guess is correct… then there should be an original guest in town about now."
"And I do love meeting old acquaintances," he added lightly.
With a blur of motion and a low rush of displaced air, Michael vanished.
His amused voice lingered just a second longer:
"This should be fun."
————-
The Salvatore house had grown unnervingly quiet. Earlier that night, Rebekah had finished telling Elena everything.
The real story of how the Mikaelsons had not been turned out of fear or cruelty but of desperation. How their mother, Esther, had bound them to immortality with her own hands. How the Originals were not born monsters… but made to survive a world that wanted them dead.
Elena had left after that in wonder and surprise and when she returned, she brought with her the final nail in the coffin of Rebekah's hatred.
The truth of their mother's death.
For centuries, Rebekah had believed Mikael was the butcher. The man who stole her mother, who hunted them across continents, whose shadow defined their exile.
But it hadn't been him.
It had been Niklaus.
The brother she had loved. Trusted. Defended.
The betrayal shattered something in her.
Grief had twisted into rage. Love into and beneath it was a hunger for retribution. The need to hurt him as deeply as he had hurt her.
That need had led them here.
Rebekah stood near the fireplace, phone pressed tightly to her ear.
Stefan lingered by the window. Damon leaned against the wall, arms crossed and Elena stood between them.
Then Klaus' voice came through the line again, "Is he truly dead sister?"
Rebekah's eyes flicked to the room to their faces. Elena met her gaze and gave a single, decisive nod.
"Yes," Rebekah said evenly. "He has a dagger through his heart right now."
A pause.
Then Klaus again, quieter. "Who did it? Was it you?"
Rebekah swallowed. "No. It was the doppelgänger. She caught him off guard."
Rebekah's voice softened, the edge replaced with something painfully real. "I miss you, Nik. I've been all alone here. It's quite miserable."
Klaus laughed lightly, the sound familiar and dangerous all at once.
"Oh? How so? I thought Kan was still in Mystic Falls. Didn't you two talk out your little quarrel? Or are you still giving the man a stink attitude?"
Her grip on the phone tightened.
"I haven't seen him," she said. "And no, we're not on speaking terms, Nik."
Klaus chuckled again, amused, dismissive.
"Fine. Fine," he said. "I'll be back soon enough."
The line went dead.
Rebekah lowered the phone slowly and looked to the room to see that the plan was now in motion.
—————-
Michael stepped inside the Salvatore house and paused just past the threshold, his head tilted slightly. His nostrils flared once… then again. The faint metallic bite of vervain greeted him alone with the darker, earthier burn of wolfsbane, concentrated to an almost offensive degree.
"Really," Michael muttered. "Subtle as a funeral pyre."
He followed the scent down the hall and into the kitchen.
Stefan and Elena stood near the counter. Between them sat a wide basin filled with water so saturated it was nearly opaque—vervain floating like crushed leaves, wolfsbane ground and bundled into makeshift grenades resting along the rim.
Stefan turned sharply. "Where the hell have you been?"
Michael glanced up casually, hands in his coat pockets. "Busy. Trying to figure out how to hunt down the harvesters before they decide to redecorate the town with more corpses."
He stepped closer, eyes flicking once to the basin before returning to them. "Harry and his people are out of town handling that. Lexi too. Figured I'd let the professionals do their thing."
Then his gaze drifted back to the concoction.
"So," he said lightly, gesturing toward the basin, "what diabolical cooking plans do you have going on over there?"
Stefan grimaced. "Uh… we aren't going to lure Klaus back into town and—"
Elena cut in quickly. "We aren't going to kill him."
Michael arched a brow. "Oh? Is that so?"
He folded his arms, one hand rising to tap thoughtfully against his chin. "Let me guess," he said slowly, eyes glinting. "This little plan of yours involves Papa Original. Am I right?"
Stefan and Elena exchanged a confused look.
"How would you even know that?" Stefan asked.
Michael smiled.
"I'm a Hellhound," he said, emphasizing the last word with deliberate weight. "And before you ask, yes the hound part matters."
He sniffed the air again, exaggerated this time. "I can literally smell the old Viking all over this place. Ancient blood, paranoia, unresolved family trauma. Very on-brand."
Elena hesitated, then said, "He promised to help us kill Klaus."
Stefan studied Michael carefully. "That's not going to be a problem… is it?"
Michael tilted his head. "Why don't you ask?"
Elena swallowed. "Well… maybe because, to you, he's like your brother."
Michael let out a quiet chuckle, low and amused. There was no warmth in it.
"Oh," he said softly. "So you desire to kill an Original do you."
His eyes darkened not with anger, but with something far more dangerous: acceptance.
"Then," Michael finished, voice calm and certain,
"an Original shall die."
Elena nodded once with a smile at the fact that Michael didn't have an issue with it. Stefan on the other hand didn't.
He narrowed his eyes as Michael's lips curved into that faint, knowing smirk. Oh, he knew that smile well and it was the kind that never meant anything good.
"By the way," Michael added casually, glancing around the room, "why isn't Damon the one here doing all this heroic plotting?"
"He's running an errand," Stefan replied shortly.
"Oh." Michael nodded. "Okay then."
He turned as if to leave when suddenly he heard, "Why did you do it?"
The question stopped him cold.
Michael glanced back. "What?"
Elena's jaw tightened as she asked the question, "Anna. Why did you make her permanent in this world?"
For a moment, Michael simply looked at her. Then he exhaled and regarded her with an amused look.
"Ohhh," he said lightly. "That? You could say I did that on a whim."
Elena scoffed. "You ruined Bonnie's relationship on a whim?."
Michael's brow lifted. "Oh. That's what this is about."
He gave a small, dismissive laugh. "If your brother truly loved the witch, Anna coming back wouldn't have changed a thing."
Elena stared at him, stunned.
"Jeremy desired her more than he did Bonnie," Michael continued calmly. "I merely granted two people what they already wanted. And for what it's worth" his tone softened just a fraction "I am sorry for what happened to Bonnie. Hurting her was never my intention."
"Well, you did," Elena shot back. "And it broke her heart."
Michael nodded once. "Not for long. She'll heal, she always does."
Then, quieter but certain: "And she'll move on to someone far better suited for her."
Stefan frowned. "And who exactly would that be? Someone of your choosing I'm guessing"
Michael laughed, genuine this time. "Spoilers, Stefan. I can't just reveal all my secret matchmaking plans now, can I?"
He turned away, taking a few steps toward the hall then stopped.
Michael looked back over his shoulder, his expression was different now. He looked at them with a sharp look.
"Let me ask you something, Stefan."
Stefan met his gaze. "What?"
"What do you think happens," Michael said slowly, "when you kill an Original vampire?"
Stefan frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Michael's eyes glinted. "What do you think happens when the mycelium dies?"
He let the word hang there unexplained and that made Stefan feel an unsettling feeling.
Then he waved a hand dismissively. "Hmm. Never mind."
Michael turned away again, the glint was gone, replaced by something thoughtful.
'No,' he decided silently. 'Let's not reveal too much just yet.'
"Now, if you'll excuse me," Michael said lightly, already turning away, "I have an Original to meet. And seeing as that one isn't here well, elsewhere it is."
And just like that, he was gone.
The air shifted, and then he wasn't there at all.
Elena let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and shook her head. "What is he planning?"
Stefan stared at the doorway Michael had vanished through. "I have no idea."
After a moment, he added quietly, "He's always been like that. Impossible to predict."
Elena hesitated. "Do you think he'll actually let us kill Klaus?"
Stefan shook his head. "He doesn't let anyone do anything. And if he decides to turn on us…" He trailed off. "There's nothing we could do to stop him."
"So we just hope," Elena said.
Stefan nodded. "Yeah."
Elena frowned. "But he already promised. He said an Original would die."
"He did," Stefan agreed.
Something dark flickered across his face.
Elena caught it. "Then what's wrong?"
Stefan shook his head quickly. "Uh, nothing. I just… need a tie."
And with that flimsy excuse, he left the room.
—————
The gym still smelled like dust and fresh paint. Tyler was helping Caroline set up decorations for the homecoming party, the damage from the recent chaos still painfully obvious. He was working on a makeshift booth, hammering something into place while Caroline folded banners nearby.
"He didn't have the right to do that," Caroline said suddenly.
Tyler snorted. "Yeah, well, according to Brandon, the boss does a lot of things for weird reasons."
Caroline paused. "Boss?"
"Yeah," Tyler said. "Michael's Brandon's boss. And Brandon's… kind of my mentor now."
Caroline sighed.
Her gaze drifted across the gym and stiffened as she saw Jeremy was walking by with Anna.
Tyler noticed too. He exhaled slowly. "And how's Bonnie doing?"
Caroline's jaw tightened. "She's trying to get over the fact that a ghost who somehow got a body stole her boyfriend."
Anna heard that.
The subtle way she slowed made Jeremy glance over his shoulder. Tyler nodded once at him. Jeremy nodded back, awkward, and then he and Anna moved on.
"He's not even trying to hide it is he?," Tyler muttered.
Caroline shook her head. "I just feel bad for Bonnie. And when I see Michael again? I'm giving him a piece of my mind."
Tyler laughed. "Yeah. Good luck with that."
—————-
Rebekah stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her dress, the title of Homecoming Queen resting heavily on her shoulders.
Elena sat nearby as Rebekah spoke, voice wavering.
"I love Nik," Rebekah said softly. "And I hate him. For what he did to our mother… to all of us."
Her eyes shimmered.
"No tears," she scolded herself quickly. "No tears. I'm not ruining my makeup."
She took a breath, steadied herself, then turned slightly. "So? How do I look?"
Elena stood and moved closer. "You look amazing," she said honestly. "But you're missing one thing."
Rebekah frowned just as Elena pulled out a necklace.
Her eyes widened. "My mother's necklace…"
She turned immediately, lifting her hair. "Help me."
Elena clasped it around her neck. Rebekah smiled in the mirror. "Thank you."
Behind her, Elena's hand moved again.
This time, it wasn't a necklace but a dagger poised to strike from the back like a viper.
"Am I interrupting something?"
The voice came from behind them.
In the mirror, Rebekah saw Michael.
But he wasn't looking at her.
He was looking at Elena with a hard, unmistakable frown. The kind Rebekah had only ever seen when he was truly, deeply vexed.
Rebekah turned and saw the dagger in Elena's hand.
Shock ripped through her. "What are you doing?" she whispered. "You were going to stab me in the back?"
Tears welled up. "After everything you'd betray me?"
She lunged at the shocked Elena but a sharp crack echoed.
Rebekah collapsed to the floor, unconscious, Michael's hand was still outstretched as he'd broken her neck with a simple bone breaking spell.
He sighed. "Well… she's definitely going to be pissed when she wakes up."
Michael turned slowly to Elena, fixing her with a look so heavy it forced her to step back.
"Don't you think so," he said coldly, "Elena?"
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