The silence that followed pressed heavier than the whispers. Hope's chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm, her body still braced for an enemy that had already vanished. The trees around them creaked softly, as if the forest itself had grown weary of holding secrets.
Hope broke first. "You knew that would happen."
Selene's gaze lifted to the stars, her expression unreadable. "I suspected."
"You could have warned me."
"You wouldn't have believed me," Selene countered, turning her eyes back to Hope. They gleamed pale and steady, catching the moonlight like shards of glass. "Not until you saw it for yourself."
Hope let out a harsh laugh, bitter at the edges. "That's a hell of a way to prove a point."
"I don't care about points." Selene's tone softened, but it carried an undercurrent of steel. "I care about survival."
The words lodged in Hope's chest, familiar in a way that made her throat tighten. Survival was the language she had spoken her entire life, but hearing it from this girl this stranger who radiated both danger and sorrow felt different.
Hope took a step closer, her arms folding tightly across her chest. "You keep talking like you know what's happening. Like you know more than the rest of us. Why?"
Selene inhaled slowly, as if gathering something heavy from deep inside. "Because I was born for it."
Hope's brow furrowed, skepticism sharpening her features. "Born for what?"
"To walk where others dream."
The statement hung in the air, cryptic and absolute. Hope frowned, ready to demand clarity, but Selene continued, her voice quiet, almost reverent.
"My father was no ordinary man. He was the Sandman keeper of dreams, guardian of the line between sleep and waking. To mortals, he was a myth. To witches, a legend. To me…" She hesitated, her fingers curling against her palms. "To me, he was a shadow. A story I was made from. And like every story, he had an ending."
Hope stared at her, caught between disbelief and the chilling sense that every word rang with truth. "The Sandman," she repeated, testing it aloud. "You're saying your father is"
"Was," Selene corrected sharply. "He's gone. What remains of him lingers only in me."
"And that makes you… what? His heir?"
Selene's lips pressed into a thin line. "It makes me a curse wearing human skin."
The bitterness in her tone made Hope's defenses falter, just slightly. She studied Selene's posture, the tension in her shoulders, the flicker of pain hidden beneath the calm façade. There was no arrogance in her words only resignation, the kind Hope recognized all too well.
"You expect me to believe that?" Hope asked finally, though the fight in her voice had dimmed.
"I don't expect anything from you," Selene replied. "But the things you saw tonight the faces, the whispers that is what hunts me. What hunts all of us now. You can deny who I am if it makes you feel safer. But the danger won't care what you believe."
Hope's throat tightened. She hated the way those words cut through her, hated that they reminded her of her own truths the kind she had begged others to accept when they doubted her. Still, trust did not come easily. Not anymore.
"Say I believe you," Hope said slowly. "Say I believe you're the Sandman's daughter and nightmares are breaking through. Why here? Why now? Why the Salvatore School?"
Selene tilted her head, her gaze distant, as if she were listening to something Hope couldn't hear. Then she whispered, "Because Malivore wasn't the end. He was only the door. And when the door was destroyed… something else slipped through the cracks."
Hope's stomach clenched. She wanted to deny it, wanted to argue, but the memory of Landon's face still burned in her mind, raw and cruelly vivid.
Selene's eyes found hers again, and in that moment, they weren't silver or storm-tossed—they were endless. Depthless. Like staring into sleep itself.
"You asked who I am," Selene said softly. "Now you know. And whether you trust me or not doesn't matter. What matters is this if you think Malivore was your worst nightmare, Hope Mikaelson, you haven't woken up yet."
The clearing seemed to shiver at her words, a chill crawling down Hope's spine.
For the first time in a long time, Hope Mikaelson didn't know if she was staring at a threat… or a warning wrapped in flesh.