Chapter 3: The Burned Church
Morning broke over Mystic Falls, shrouded in a light mist that clung to the air like breath against cold glass. The town awoke slowly beneath the veil of daily life, but behind that familiar quiet… something ancient stirred.
Alexander stood at the edge of an abandoned clearing, deep in the heart of the forest. Before him lay the ruins of the burned church — the place where he had nearly met his end in 1864, where Damon and Stefan had turned, and where his curse was born… half life, half death. All that remained of the church was the foundation — charred stones, scattered ash overtaken by moss and silence.
He stepped forward, slowly, each footfall weighed down by buried memories.
A girl's scream. Flames licking the sky. Stefan's face, stricken with terror. Damon dragging him away. And then… darkness.
But that wasn't the end.
It wasn't death.
Not for him.
He knelt near what had once been a sacred altar. With bare hands, he dug into the dirt until his fingers struck something solid. A small wooden box, its surface blackened with fire, yet miraculously intact.
He opened it carefully.
Inside, wrapped in faded cloth, was an old pendant — made of iron and bone, etched with symbols he couldn't read, but had seen before… around his mother's neck.
Suddenly, a whisper drifted into the air, soft but clear:
"You shouldn't have returned."
Alexander looked up.
A woman stood among the trees, her cloak swaying with the wind, her eyes glowing faintly with a golden shimmer. Her face was hidden behind a veil of shadows, but the energy surrounding her… was not unfamiliar. A witch.
"Who are you?" he asked as he stood.
"A guardian. From the remnants of the circle that cursed you."
His jaw tightened, anger flickering across his features. "Then you know… why they left me. Why they erased my memory."
"You were never meant to die. But you weren't meant to live either," she said. "You were the link. The sacrifice that seals the ritual. Damon and Stefan were supposed to die. You… were the price."
He stepped closer. "They took my place."
"No. They defied fate. Your mother tried to stop the ritual. She saved you — but at a terrible cost. The magic rebounded onto her. The curse fell on you. You carry the fragments of a power that was meant to explode. You became a vessel."
He felt the burn again in his chest, like embers glowing beneath his skin.
"And who ordered all this?" he asked.
The woman hesitated. "The witches' council. And someone from your family."
"Giuseppe…" Alexander whispered. His father.
"He feared you. Feared what you are… and what you could become."
His hands clenched, the pendant in his palm glowing faintly.
"Can it be broken?"
"Perhaps," she replied. "But it will come at a price. You'll need blood. Ancient blood."
Alexander turned away without another word. He didn't look back.
---
At the Salvatore house, Damon was refilling his glass.
"He's awake," he said, watching the swirl of the drink.
Stefan looked up. "Who?"
"Alexander. He's starting to remember. The church. The pendant. The witches. It's all coming back."
Stefan's voice dropped. "That place nearly killed us."
"It did kill us," Damon replied, then downed the glass in one go.
"Do you think he'll come here?"
Damon gave a cold smile. "He doesn't need to. He already lives inside our heads."
---
That evening, Elena was walking through the town square, her journal tucked under her arm. She stopped suddenly when she saw Alexander standing beneath the clock tower, staring up at the sky.
"You again," she said quietly.
He didn't look at her. "It's nothing personal."
"What do you mean?"
"Avoiding you. I see your face and feel nothing. No warmth. No pull. Just… silence."
She frowned. "Thanks?"
He finally turned to her. "I didn't mean it as an insult. You remind me of the silence before a storm. And I… I've lived in storms my entire life."
He walked past her, vanishing into the crowd.
Elena stood there, a strange feeling creeping into her chest — a chill she couldn't name.
---
At home, Bonnie was flipping through her grandmother's old books, her eyes scanning worn pages and faded symbols. Her fingers stopped on a mark — identical to the one Alexander had shown her. Beneath it, a word inked in ancient script:
"The Vessel."
A vessel of power. One created to carry destruction.
She whispered, "What are you, Alexander Salvatore?"
---
A moonless night had fallen heavily over Mystic Falls, shadows wrapping around every corner and whispering through the twisted streets and colonial homes. Everything looked the same, as if time refused to move. But for Alexander Salvatore, nothing remained as it once was. Not since 1864. Not since the fire. And not since the betrayal.
Winds howled through the woods as he made his way toward the Salvatore estate. The old house came into view, its windows glowing faintly — a heartbeat in the darkness. He stopped at the edge of the property, staring at the place that had once been his home. Memories rushed in — the scent of aged wood, the taste of bourbon in the air, Stefan's quiet piano melodies… Damon's laugh, before it all turned to ash.
Now, only silence remained.
His footsteps crunched over gravel. He walked slowly, every step measured, tension simmering beneath his skin. The pendant in his pocket pulsed with heat, as if reacting to the blood that tied him to this place.
Then the door opened.
Damon Salvatore stood in the doorway, bathed in the warm glow of the interior light. He didn't move, didn't speak. Just leaned against the frame with a drink in hand, his expression unreadable.
Alexander stopped a few steps from the wooden stairs.
Damon finally said, swirling his glass: "You always had a flair for dramatic entrances."
Alexander replied, voice quiet but charged: "And you always pretended not to care."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken things.
"You gonna invite me in, or are we doing this cowboy style on the porch?"
Damon shrugged lightly, stepping aside. "Come on in. Make yourself at home."
Alexander entered.
The scent of the house hadn't changed.
He took only two steps inside before he saw him.
Stefan.
Standing at the top of the stairs, frozen like a statue.
For a moment, time halted. Even breath stilled.
Stefan slowly descended, as if afraid Alexander might vanish if he moved too fast. His face was pale, jaw clenched, eyes heavy with shock and guilt.
Alexander didn't move.
When they finally stood face to face, separated by only a few steps, Stefan whispered: "We thought you were dead."
Alexander's voice wavered: "You… left me."
Stefan stepped back like the words had struck him.
"We searched for you. After the fire… there was nothing left. The church—"
Alexander cut him off, voice sharp as a blade: "It was burning. You ran. Damon followed. And I was bleeding on the altar."
Stefan shook his head slowly, pained: "I don't remember that."
"Because someone made you forget. Giuseppe. The witches. Or whoever decided I was too dangerous."
Damon stepped closer, tone laced with sarcasm: "Alright, this family reunion is heartwarming and all, but tell me, what do you want, Alexander? Nobody comes back after a hundred and fifty years just for hugs."
Alexander looked at him, and for the first time since arriving, his anger cracked — revealing an old, buried pain, screaming with unanswered questions.
"I want the truth. I want to know why I was left. Why I was cursed. And I want to end this."
Damon raised his glass and sipped: "Sounds like a tall order."
Alexander stepped forward, eyes blazing: "I nearly died that night. No, I did die. But something brought me back. Something worse than death. And now, every morning I wake with fire in my chest. Like my soul has been hollowed out and filled with rage that isn't mine."
He turned to Stefan: "You and Damon… you got a choice. You chose to become what you are. Vampires. Monsters. I wasn't given one. I was condemned."
Stefan's eyes swam with sorrow: "What can we do?"
Alexander pulled the pendant from his coat. Iron and bone, it gleamed under the dim light.
"This belonged to our mother. She wasn't just another woman in Giuseppe's life. She was something else. A witch… or tied to them. Bonnie found the same symbol on this pendant in her grandmother's books. It's part of a counter-spell. It can draw out the curse… but it needs Salvatore blood. All of us."
Damon eyed the pendant warily: "You want us to bleed for a relic?"
Alexander said firmly: "It's not a relic. It's an anchor."
Silence returned.
Then Stefan stepped forward, voice resolute: "If this helps you… I'll do it."
Damon sighed and muttered: "Of course. As always."
Alexander looked at him seriously: "You owe me, Damon."
For a moment, Damon's mask cracked. He looked at Alexander and saw the boy they grew up with. The brother they left behind. The one they failed to save.
He took a long drink, then said: "Fine. But if I turn into a frog because of this, I'll hate you forever."
---
They met that night in the ruins of the church. The air was thick with memories and the scent of ash. Candles burned in a circle around the altar, at the center stood Bonnie Bennett, holding an open grimoire, her hands marked with ancient sigils.
Alexander stood at the center. Damon and Stefan flanked him. The pendant was placed atop the stone altar, glowing faintly.
Bonnie looked directly at Alexander: "Are you ready?"
He nodded: "Do it."
She sliced his palm with a sharp knife. Then Stefan's. Then Damon's.
Their blood mixed on the stone.
The pendant flared bright.
Winds whipped through the trees, howling like angry wolves. The ground shook beneath them. The candles burst into tall blue flames.
Alexander screamed and dropped to his knees.
A fiery pain tore through his chest. His veins lit up with golden fire. His mind ripped open.
He saw flashing visions:
—His mother chanting a spell with trembling voice.
—Giuseppe's cold eyes as he handed him over.
—A blade cutting through the air.
—A circle of witches. A child's scream.
Bonnie stepped closer, chanting louder.
The earth beneath the altar cracked. Roots burst from the soil like serpents. The pendant rose into the air, glowing with blinding light.
Then… it shattered.
Alexander collapsed.
Silence fell.
He opened his eyes to find Bonnie kneeling beside him, Stefan pale above, and Damon leaning against a tree, gasping.
Bonnie whispered: "It worked. The curse is weaker. But not broken."
Alexander tried to rise. "Why?"
She showed him the shattered pendant pieces, still pulsing faintly.
"There's another anchor. Someone else linked to you."
Damon frowned: "Who?"
Bonnie hesitated, then said: "A twin. A shadow. A mirror. Something like you."
A chill ran down Alexander's spine.
"I saw him in my visions..." he said slowly. "But it wasn't me. It was… something else."
Bonnie looked at him seriously: "Then you're not the only one cursed. You're the lock… he's the key."
Stefan stepped forward and asked: "Another Salvatore?"
Alexander's voice was barely a whisper: "No. Something… worse."
---
Deep beneath Mystic Falls, beneath layers of rock and time, a sealed tomb cracked open.
From the shadows, someone emerged — chains falling away, centuries of dust shedding from his form. He looked like Alexander… but older, darker, with eyes that glowed like blood.
He raised his arms and smiled.
"It's time..." he said, as the stone around him melted like wax.
"Brother… I'm coming home."