Chapter 12: Smoke and Silence
The air was thick with smoke and magic.
The witch's corpse lay sprawled on the ground, already decaying at an unnatural rate, as if magic had been the only thing keeping her alive all those years, even though her body had long surpassed the limits of mortality. Klaus stood above her body, panting, wiping the blood from his brow. The wild gleam in his eyes had dimmed, but his body still trembled with the remains of fading adrenaline.
Alexander stood nearby, fists clenched, his chest rising and falling like thunder. The tips of his fingers still glowed with faint embers—remnants of the spirit that had fused into him. Ash's power hadn't vanished. It had settled within him.
The place was still in total ruin. Chunks of stone scattered on the ground, all the windows shattered, and the ceiling groaned, threatening collapse.
Rebekah coughed, trying to get up with Stefan's help.
"Is… is she really dead?" she asked in a soft, hesitant voice.
"She's done," Elijah answered, still clutching his ribs, his eyes fixed on the disintegrating corpse with cautious doubt.
"Then why does it feel like it's not over?" Damon muttered, running his hand through his blood-matted hair.
Alexander turned slowly, scanning each of their faces.
"Because it isn't over," he said deeply. "Her blood was only a key. The curse may be cracked, but it isn't fully broken. My soul is still shattered. And whoever helped her cast the spell… is still out there, watching from the shadows."
Klaus raised an eyebrow. "You think someone else was behind this?"
Alexander nodded heavily. "Giuseppe Salvatore didn't just want me gone… he made sure of it. Katherine was part of the deal, but she wasn't alone. There's a much deeper magic behind what happened to me."
Elijah stepped forward, his voice calm and steady:
"Then we need answers. Quickly. This kind of power doesn't just vanish into the night."
"I agree," said Klaus. "But we won't find them standing in the rubble."
Damon groaned as he rose from the ground.
"So what now? We go chasing dead witches and secrets buried for centuries?"
Alexander looked toward the broken wall, where the night breeze slipped through the gap.
"We go back to Mystic Falls. That's where it all began. That's where the answers will be."
Rebekah looked uneasy.
"You think someone knows more than we do?"
Alexander narrowed his eyes.
"Someone always does. And Mystic Falls… it's not as quiet as it seems."
Klaus looked at him, a slow, sly smile spreading across his face, like a predator intrigued.
"I'm starting to like you, bastard."
Alexander returned the smile, but his was dark, enigmatic.
"Careful, Klaus… one day you might start calling me brother."
They all began gathering what strength they had left. Stefan helped Rebekah to her feet, and Elijah and Damon exchanged a silent look—an unspoken acknowledgement of a bond forged in spilled blood. Klaus, ever the restless beast, stepped closer to Alexander, standing shoulder to shoulder.
Together, they left the ruins of battle behind. The city would heal. It always did.
But the war… wasn't over.
Not even close.
Mystic Falls awaited.
And so did the truth.
---
In the shadows of the crumbling walls, far from sight, a small black flame was born in the very spot where the witch drew her final breath.
From it came a faint whisper—something ancient… something watching.
The battle was over.
But the game…
Had only just begun.
---
The night air clung to the city's ruins like heavy ash, still and silent, broken only by the footsteps of six immortals leaving a battlefield behind.
They had fought like beasts, like kings… and like something beyond both.
Now, only they remained—wounded, bleeding, and breathing.
In the restored courtyard of the old Mikaelson compound, the six gathered under the flickering lantern light.
The building's walls creaked with ancient magic, as if holding its breath while legends sat around a table of aged oak, mending wounds and recalling memories still warm.
Alexander sat at the far end of the table, arms crossed, jaw tight, his gaze shifting between Elijah and Rebekah before settling finally on Klaus.
"You need to stay," Klaus said as if it were nonnegotiable. "Come with us. You need answers. And if there are more witches, or more pieces of your soul to reclaim… you'll need our help."
Alexander leaned back in his seat, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Are you offering me protection? Or a royal escort?"
Damon chuckled lightly, but a sharp look from Elijah silenced him.
Klaus ignored the sarcasm. "I'm serious. I don't like owing anyone, but after the battle we fought—" he gave a wolfish smile. "I think I owe you something. You've earned my respect, bastard or not."
Alexander looked at him oddly. "You and your family helped me, and now you say you don't like owing anyone? Man, I'm the one who owes you, not the other way around. Also—" he glanced down briefly, jaw clenching tighter.
"It's not that simple."
Rebekah raised an eyebrow.
"Simple? Have you forgotten who you're talking to? Nothing is ever simple with us."
Alexander rose slowly, his chair groaning beneath him, then turned to Klaus. The room fell silent with his movement.
His voice was low—not angry, but something deeper… regret.
"You showed me something I didn't expect, Klaus. You fought beside me. You didn't back down. That means a lot to me."
Klaus gave him a small nod.
Alexander continued:
"But while we were hunting the witch… I saw something else. Your city—New Orleans—it's not fully under your control anymore. Something's eroding at the edges. Someone's watching. Waiting. And if you come with us to Mystic Falls…"
He hesitated, then stepped closer to Klaus, speaking low but firm:
"Someone will take your throne."
Rebekah's expression shifted, and Elijah's features tensed as he looked at Klaus.
"You think a war will break out?" Elijah asked.
"I'm certain of it," Alexander answered with resolve. "If you leave now, you'll return to find blood in the streets. All because you tried to help me."
Klaus stared at him, torn between pride and anger.
"I don't run from war."
Alexander gave a faint smile.
"I know. That's the problem."
A heavy silence followed. Damon broke it with a shrug:
"Well, as much as I love standing in a room full of demi-gods discussing the fall of kingdoms, how about we be smart about it? Klaus stays. We go. That way, no city-wide massacre. Everyone wins, right?"
Stefan nodded in agreement.
"Damon's right. You don't abandon anyone, Klaus. You protect your family. That's what this is all about."
Klaus scoffed. "You Salvatores and your emotional speeches."
Alexander stepped forward and extended his hand.
"You've done for me in a few days what no one has in a hundred years. Thank you."
Klaus looked at the hand, then gripped it firmly, pulling him into a rough side-hug.
"And if anyone asks," Klaus whispered, "tell them I broke your bones and kicked you out."
Alexander smirked.
"Of course. I'll cry all the way to Mystic Falls."
Laughter echoed softly—even Elijah smiled.
As for Rebekah, she gave Alexander a small nod, something unspoken in her eyes.
And as they began walking toward the compound gates, Klaus stood alone beneath the lanterns' glow.
Watching. Waiting.
Because kings don't sleep.
And war… doesn't wait long.
---
Outside, as the brothers climbed into the waiting car, Damon turned to Alexander.
"So… you and Klaus? Buddies now?"
Alexander shot him a cold side glance.
"Say that again and I'll throw you out of the car."
Stefan laughed.
"He's joking."
Alexander didn't take his eyes off the road.
"I'm not."
The engine roared.
And the road to Mystic Falls opened once more.
But the shadows… had been waiting all along.
---