Waking up with a cosmic entity in your head took some getting used to.
The first week after the merger was... strange. The First's consciousness was always there, a second set of thoughts running parallel to my own. Not intrusive—it had learned respect during the integration—but present.
The sunlight is beautiful, it observed one morning as I sat on the porch of the safehouse.
"It's called a sunrise. Happens every day."
I know. I dreamed it into existence. But I have never seen it through eyes before.
I felt its wonder—genuine, childlike, achingly pure. For all its eons of existence, the First had never truly experienced anything. Only dreamed.
"Wait until you try coffee."
Coffee?
"You're in for a treat."
---
Davina noticed the change immediately.
"You're different," she said, studying me over breakfast. "Calmer. More... present."
"The First is still adjusting. So am I."
"Does it hurt?"
"No. It's just... crowded. Like having a roommate in a studio apartment."
She laughed. "Can it hear us right now?"
Yes.
I relayed the response. Davina's eyes widened.
"Hello, First."
Hello, Davina. Your paintings are beautiful.
"She says your paintings are beautiful."
Davina blushed. "Tell her thank you."
You're welcome.
"This is going to take some getting used to," she said.
"Told you."
---
Hope was less cautious.
She found me in the clearing that afternoon, where I was testing my new capabilities. The First's power amplified my own—I could feel realities forming at the edge of my consciousness, possibilities branching in every direction.
"Show me," she said.
"Show you what?"
"What you can do now. What the First gave you."
I hesitated. The power was immense—potentially dangerous if misused. But Hope wasn't a child anymore. She deserved to know.
"Stand back."
I raised my hands and pulled.
A rift opened in the air—not a threatening one, but a window. A view into another reality, another New Orleans, another version of existence where the Harvest had never happened and Davina had grown up free.
Hope gasped.
"Is that real?"
"Every possibility is real somewhere. The First taught me that."
The multiverse is infinite, the First added. Every choice, every chance, every dream—they all exist somewhere.
Hope stared at the window, transfixed. In that other reality, she saw herself—older, happier, painting on a balcony overlooking the Quarter.
"Could I go there?"
"You could. But you wouldn't be you anymore. You'd be the you from that reality."
She considered this. Then she shook her head.
"I like this me."
"Good. So do I."
---
Klaus summoned me to the Abattoir that evening.
"The council wants a report. What are you now? What can you do? Should we be worried?"
"The First is integrated. I'm still me. And no, you shouldn't be worried."
"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it." He poured two glasses of bourbon, sliding one toward me. "You're carrying the essence of a being that dreamed the multiverse into existence. That's not nothing."
"It's not. But the First isn't a threat. It's... learning. Experiencing. For the first time in eons, it's actually living."
He is afraid, the First observed. Understandably.
"He's Klaus. He's always afraid. He just hides it well."
Klaus raised an eyebrow. "Are you talking to it right now?"
"It's hard not to. It's in my head."
"Comforting."
I drank the bourbon. The First's appreciation rippled through my consciousness—it liked the warmth, the complexity, the way the alcohol interacted with my hybrid biology.
This is pleasant.
"Told you."
---
The weeks that followed were a period of adjustment.
The First learned to experience the world through my senses—touch, taste, smell, sound, sight. Things it had dreamed into existence but never known.
The rain feels different than I imagined.
The music is more complex than I dreamed.
Love is... warmer.
I taught it about human connections. About the small moments that made existence worthwhile—a shared meal, a quiet conversation, a hand held in the dark.
I understand now, it said one night, as Davina slept beside me. Why you risked everything.
"Why?"
Because some things are worth more than power. More than freedom. More than existence itself.
"Took you eons to figure that out."
I was asleep for most of them.
I laughed softly, careful not to wake Davina.
"Fair point."
---
Not everyone was comfortable with the new arrangement.
Vincent, the witch elder, expressed concerns at the next council meeting.
"The First is ancient. Powerful. We have only Paradox's word that it's under control."
"Paradox has never lied to us," Davina said.
"He's never been merged with a cosmic entity before."
I raised a hand. "I understand the concern. But the First isn't a threat. It's part of me now—and I'm part of this city. Part of this family."
"How do we know that won't change?"
"You don't. But you know me. And you know I've spent years proving where my loyalties lie."
The council murmured. Finally, Klaus spoke.
"I trust Paradox. If he says the First is contained, I believe him."
Elijah nodded. "As do I."
Hayley, Marcel, Rebekah—one by one, they voiced their support.
Vincent sighed. "Then I'm outvoted. But I'll be watching."
"You should be. We all should be. That's how accountability works."
---
That night, I stood on the roof of The Crossing, looking out at the city.
They fear me, the First said.
"They fear what they don't understand. Give them time."
You have given me time. More than I deserved.
"You deserved a chance. Everyone does."
The First was quiet for a moment. Then:
Thank you, Paradox. For seeing me. For trusting me. For teaching me.
"You're welcome, First. Welcome to existence."
The stars shone overhead—each one a possibility, a dream, a reality waiting to be born.
And for the first time in eons, the First was content to simply watch.