Henrik's body was limp in my arms, blood staining his skin pale. I stumbled into the village, sobbing, my siblings rushing to me in horror. Rebekah fell to her knees beside me, crying, and I pulled her close with one arm while clutching Henrik with the other.
Kol stood behind her, jaw clenched, torn between rage and grief. The twins had always been inseparable, and in that moment, his hand gripped Rebekah's shoulder as if steadying her was the only thing that kept him from breaking apart too.
Mikael's shadow loomed, voice sharp and demanding.
Mikael: "WHAT HAPPENED, BOY?"
Niklaus: "It was the full moon… I wanted to see the men turn to beasts, and Henrik insisted on coming. When they changed, they attacked us. I fought them off, but… one of them struck him before I could save him."
Esther's eyes narrowed, her tone sharp.
Esther: "Did you kill any of the wolves?"
Niklaus: "No, Mother. They were too strong, too fast. I only pushed them back. I'm sorry. I failed."
Relief flickered across her face. No curse had been triggered. She thought she was safe.
But Mikael was not satisfied. His fury ignited, and his hand lashed across my face.
Mikael: "You are a disgrace. You let your brother die."
The blows came heavy and merciless, but I did not rise against him. I endured, as I always had. Rebekah's small body suddenly shielded mine, her voice breaking.
Rebekah: "Father, please! Stop! Please stop hitting him!"
Kol stepped forward then, his eyes blazing, his fists clenched — ready to strike Mikael himself. Elijah grabbed his arm, holding him back, the tension between them crackling like a storm.
Mikael froze, then seized Henrik's body and stormed away. Esther followed.
I stayed where I was, trembling with grief, but inside I clung to the knowledge that this was not the end. Because I had already prepared for this night.
The Spell
When they laid Henrik out, I waited until the courtyard was quiet. My siblings gathered around in mourning — Rebekah clinging to Kol, the two twins shaking together — but I closed my eyes and whispered the words I had practiced for years. The spell I had built from Ayana's notes, stolen fragments, and my own will.
Magic surged.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then Henrik's body shuddered. His chest heaved. His eyes snapped open — not the pale blue of my little brother, but a glowing, golden hue that radiated raw power.
Rebekah gasped and clutched Kol's arm. Elijah's jaw dropped. Kol cursed under his breath, voice cracking between awe and fear.
But I only smiled.
Henrik sat up, dazed but alive. The wolf venom that should have ended him had fused with my spell, transforming him instead. His humanity remained, but beneath it pulsed a primal, unending strength.
The first immortal bitten werewolf. My brother. Saved.
The Feast
That night, Father still called us to dinner. The silence at the table was heavy, though Henrik now sat among us again, pale but breathing, as though fate itself had chosen mercy. None but I knew the truth.
Mikael raised his cup.
Mikael: "Eat and drink in memory of the dead we've lost. May Odin bless their souls."
Everyone echoed him, though this time, Henrik kept his head bowed.
The food was bitter in my mouth. I tasted the herbs, the faint metallic tang — Esther's drug. My eyelids grew heavy. Across the table, my siblings slumped. Henrik's glowing eyes met mine for an instant before the spell pulled me under.
Darkness claimed me.
The Birth of the Originals
Mikael: "Alright, woman. Everything is ready. Do your thing."
Esther: "This goes against the natural order, Mikael. Are you certain?"
Mikael: "How many more children do you wish to bury? I lost Freya. I nearly lost Henrik. I will not risk another."
She began the ritual. She didn't know that I had already rewritten it years ago. The spell she cast tonight would only complete what I had already bound into us after Henrik's "death." We would not be her creatures. We would be something far greater.
Mikael moved from child to child, ending each life with his blade, and finally drove the sword into his own chest.
Rebirth
I awoke with fire in my veins. Hunger unlike anything I had ever known.
I looked at my chest — torn, bloodied, yet healed without a scar. Around me, my siblings stirred, awakening one by one. Henrik was there too, eyes burning gold, power radiating from him like heat.
The door burst open. Mikael entered, dragging a villager by the arm. He shoved her at me.
Mikael: "Drink, boy."
I could not resist. My veins darkened, my fangs descended, and I sank into her wrist. The blood was intoxicating, divine. I drank greedily until Mikael hurled me back.
Mikael: "Enough, boy."
I staggered, breathless, trembling with power. My magic was still mine. My wolf burned beneath my skin. My vampiric hunger roared.
The first Tribrid.
Beside me, Kol laughed, magic crackling at his fingertips. The first Heretic. Rebekah at his side, her twin bond shining fierce even through her tears — reborn immortal, yet still the fiery girl she had always been.
And Henrik — alive, immortal, his wolf curse transformed. The first bitten immortal werewolf.
Esther's eyes narrowed with suspicion, realizing something was not as it should be. But she said nothing.
In the weeks that followed, Mikael burned the white oak tree, Esther forged daylight rings, and we learned the shape of our strength. My own powers stirred with something darker — blood and shadow bending faintly to my will. Not yet mastered, but waiting.
This was not Esther's victory. It was mine.
And the world had no idea what was coming.