The de Martel castle was alive with chatter that evening, courtiers drifting through candlelit halls. Tristan had retreated to his endless schemes, Aurora had vanished into the gardens, and Elijah was busy playing diplomat with Count de Martel.
I lingered near the great doors, half-listening, half-bored. That was when the heavy knock came.
The doors opened.
Two figures stepped into the firelight.
The first was a woman, cloaked and proud, her eyes carrying a century of pain and strength. At her side was a boy — golden-eyed, familiar, the brother we thought long gone.
Rebekah gasped, tears springing to her eyes. "No… it can't be."
Kol's goblet slipped from his fingers. "Bloody hell."
Elijah's voice cracked. "Henrik…"
I widened my eyes, feigning shock. "Brother?"
Henrik smiled faintly, but it was the woman beside him who spoke first.
Freya's Truth
Elijah's voice trembled. "Freya?"
The woman lowered her hood. Golden hair spilled free, her face older but unmistakable.
"Yes, Elijah. It is me. Your sister."
Rebekah shook her head. "But you died. We were told you died."
Freya's expression darkened. "That is the lie Mother gave you. The truth is far worse. I was taken. At six years old. Stolen by Dahlia — Mother's sister, your aunt."
Gasps filled the hall. Kol's eyes narrowed. Elijah's face hardened.
"Mother's sister?" Rebekah whispered.
Freya nodded. "Esther could not have children. She made a bargain with her sister: fertility, in exchange for the firstborn of every generation. I was that price. I was bound to Dahlia in sleep, used as a vessel for her power. And you were told I was gone."
The siblings turned as one toward Finn.
Kol's voice was sharp. "You knew, didn't you?"
Finn's face paled, his eyes darting away.
"Finn?" Rebekah pressed, her voice trembling.
Finn swallowed, then nodded, shame filling his voice. "I was five. I remember. I saw her taken. Mother told me never to speak of it. She said if I did, Father's rage would destroy us all. I… I was a child. I was afraid."
The silence that followed was heavy with betrayal. Rebekah's tears turned to fury. Kol glared daggers at him. Elijah closed his eyes, grief etched deep.
Freya's voice cut through, steady but gentle. "He was a child, as I was. The sin is not his — it is Mother's, for the deal she struck. But Dahlia is gone now. Dead. And I do not know how. All I know is that I awoke, free of her chains."
Henrik's Truth
Elijah steadied himself, voice tight. "And Henrik?"
Freya turned, her expression softening. "When I awoke, I searched. And I found him — not lost as you believed, but changed."
Henrik stepped forward, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the torchlight.
"That night," he said, "the wolves' fangs tore into me. I felt their venom burn. I died. But I rose again. The venom did not kill me. It remade me."
Rebekah's tears spilled again. "We buried you. I mourned you."
Henrik took her hand gently. "And yet I stand. Stronger. Faster. No wound can hold me. No death can claim me."
Kol whispered, almost reverently, "Then what are you?"
Henrik lifted his chin, his golden gaze sweeping across them all.
"I am not vampire. Not witch. Not wolf. I am something new. The first of my kind. The first immortal bitten werewolf."
The hall was silent.
Freya rested her hand on his shoulder, her eyes steady. "You thought this family cursed to lose its children. But Henrik lives. And I live. Our family is not broken — not yet."
And though I kept my mask of shock, inside I smiled. Because this was exactly as I had intended.