Chapter 6: The Blood That Binds Us
Rain was striking the roof of the Salvatore mansion violently, while the storms howled in the sky like angry beasts roaming over the town. The fire in the fireplace had dimmed its glow, flickering with every cold breeze sneaking through the broken windows. The night had just passed midnight.
Alexander stood before the cold fireplace, staring at the family portrait still hanging crookedly on the wall. Stefan and Damon entered behind him, in heavy silence. The air between them was another storm, different in shape, but no less intense.
Finally, Alexander spoke in a low voice, like a pained confession:
"He tried to kill me... your father. My father. Or so I thought."
Stefan approached, his voice a mix of pain and truth:
"He was never your father... and that's exactly why he wanted you dead."
Alexander slowly turned, his eyes dark as winter clouds:
"Do you think I didn't know I was different? That I didn't feel it every time he looked at me? But I was your brother. And still am. Yet... he tried to erase me from existence. And you... you left him."
Damon leaned his shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his chest:
"We didn't know."
Alexander's voice rose, sharp as a knife's edge:
"And you never tried to find out. The night you turned, the night everything collapsed, you left me. I was just a child. And you left me to die."
Stefan lowered his gaze, as if the words stabbed him:
"We thought you were dead... we thought the fire—"
Alexander cut him off harshly:
"It was a lie. The fire was no accident. Katherine... and your dear father, they planned it. Everything was to get rid of me."
Damon trembled for a moment but hid it behind his usual sarcastic mask:
"What a wonderful family reunion. Who would have thought?"
Alexander stepped closer, his voice now calmer but anger boiling beneath:
"You didn't lose a brother that night... you abandoned one."
Silence fell again until Stefan dared to ask:
"And now? What's the next step?"
Alexander exhaled deeply, as if trying to restrain the flood of anger inside him:
"We search for the blood. The witch Katherine enlisted—she died long ago. But blood magic leaves a trace. If we find one of her descendants, we can use her blood to complete the ritual. To restore the rest of my soul."
Damon laughed sarcastically:
"So now we start chasing witches?"
Bonnnie's voice came from the door, tired, pale:
"We have no choice."
She entered slowly and continued:
"The curse that damned Alexander is rooted in what my grandmother called the bonds of legacy. That means the blood of the original witch can break the curse... but only if done with sincere will, and before the curse consumes the host completely."
Stefan asked worriedly:
"How much time do we have?"
Bonnie hesitated a bit, then said:
"Days... maybe a week. The longer Alexander's soul remains divided, the more dangerous it becomes."
Damon looked at Alexander:
"Dangerous... in what way?"
Bonnie turned her face away and said in a low voice:
"He's already unstable. The fight with Ash was just the beginning. The other fragments of his soul—if they start to appear—they will feed on his pain... and on his rage."
Alexander turned away from them, as if every word ignited something inside him:
"Then let's find her. The bloodline."
---
Hours later, they gathered in the study room of the mansion. Bonnie spread maps, manuscripts, and old records belonging to witch clans over the wide table.
She pointed to a worn book:
"The original witch's name was Celeste Duval. French origin. She migrated to Mystic Falls in the eighteenth century. Practiced dark magic tied to her ancestors, and carefully hid her lineage."
Damon muttered:
"Sounds like a lovely person."
Bonnie traced her finger through an old family tree:
"Her descendants changed their names over generations, but the Duval bloodline still exists. There's a woman in New Orleans named Vivian Duval. She runs an herb shop linked to the witch clan in the French Quarter. If there's a key to ending all this... she holds it."
Alexander folded the map carefully:
"I will go to New Orleans."
Stefan immediately corrected:
"We will go to New Orleans."
Damon sighed and said with his usual sarcastic tone:
"A road trip with my illegitimate brother... what fun."
---
That night, with the storm breaking, the three brothers stood before the Salvatore mansion. The tension between them lessened but did not disappear.
Stefan asked softly, wind teasing his hair:
"Have you ever thought... how it would have been if he was before you? If none of this had happened?"
Alexander lifted his eyes to the gray sky and said quietly:
"I stopped thinking about 'what if' a long time ago."
Damon tilted his head a bit:
"So what do you think now?"
Alexander looked at them, and in his eyes was no hatred... but something bitter, distant, like ashes not yet extinguished.
"Of revenge... and redemption."
Then the three brothers stepped together into the darkness.
The hunt had begun.