Three days of astral searching nearly killed him.
Not literally—vampire healing prevented that—but Kol pushed his void sense to limits he'd never tested, reaching through dimensional gaps and impossible spaces, searching for a prison that didn't want to be found.
"You need to sleep." Davina's voice reached him through layers of concentration. "You've been at this for eighteen hours."
"Almost have it." His consciousness stretched across continents, probing the barriers between realities. Dahlia had hidden her prison well—not in a single dimension, but in the fold between several, accessible only through specific anchor points. "There's something in Norway. An echo."
"Norway?" Vincent looked up from his own research. "That makes sense. The Mikaelsons originated there. Dahlia would want to keep her prize close to home."
Kol pushed deeper. The echo resolved into a structure—magical architecture wrapped around a sleeping consciousness. Freya. Trapped in eternal dreaming, her power siphoned to fuel her captor's immortality.
And around the prison, layers of defense that made Kol's blood run cold.
"Found her." He withdrew from the astral plane, gasping back to physical awareness. His reserves showed twenty percent—dangerously depleted after days of intensive searching. "Northern Norway. The prison's anchored to a physical location, probably something from the original Mikaelson village."
"Can you reach her?" Klaus demanded.
"I can try to make contact. But Dahlia's defenses are..." Kol struggled for adequate comparison. "Imagine the wards around this compound. Now imagine they were designed by someone who's been perfecting magical security for three thousand years."
"Try anyway."
Kol ate three blood bags and two actual meals—Davina's insistence—before attempting contact. He needed reserves for what came next.
The approach to Freya's prison was like swimming through tar. Every inch required effort. Dahlia's magic pressed against him from all sides, ancient and implacable, designed to repel interference while alerting its creator.
She'll know we're coming, he realized. The moment I touch those walls, she knows.
He touched them anyway.
The connection was immediate and overwhelming. Freya's consciousness crashed against his like a wave against rocks—desperate, hopeful, terrified.
Who are you? Her voice resonated through dimensional space.
Your brother. Kol. There are five of us now—six if we can free you.
That's not possible. Kol died. Mother told me—
Mother lied about a lot of things. He pushed images through the connection: Klaus, Elijah, Rebekah, Finn. Hope. The compound. New Orleans. We're coming for you.
Freya's presence wavered with disbelief and hope fighting for dominance. Dahlia will kill you all. She's more powerful than you can imagine.
She can try. We've killed one ancient witch already.
What?
Esther's dead. Truly dead. We stopped her from destroying us, and then we stopped her permanently. Kol felt Freya's shock ripple through the connection. We're not the scattered family Dahlia expects. We're united now. And we're coming for you.
The prison's walls pulsed with alarm. Dahlia's defenses activating. Time running out.
Find the original tether, Freya sent urgently. It's in Norway, at the ruins of our village. A rowan tree growing from Mother's altar. Break it, and I can escape.
Where's your physical body?
Hidden. I'll find it once the prison breaks. Just destroy the tether.
The connection severed. Dahlia's wards slammed shut with finality. But Kol had what he needed.
"Norway," he announced to the assembled family. "The tether's in the ruins of your original village. We break it, Freya goes free."
"And Dahlia?" Elijah asked quietly.
"Will know we're coming. Probably already knows." Kol met his brother's eyes. "We've announced ourselves to an enemy we're not ready to fight."
"Then we'd better get ready quickly." Klaus stood, already planning. "Elijah and I will go. Kol provides magical support. Everyone else stays to protect Hope."
"She's our sister too," Rebekah protested.
"Which is why you stay. If we fail, Hope needs protection. We don't put all our eggs in one basket." Klaus's tone left no room for argument. "Some missions are too dangerous for everyone."
---
That night, the remaining family gathered for a meal that might be the last they shared for a while.
Nobody said that out loud. They didn't need to.
Rebekah shared wine she'd been saving for centuries. Hayley cooked—badly, but with genuine effort. Hope gurgled in her carrier, oblivious to the tension around her.
"I dreamed of her," Rebekah said quietly. "Last night. An older sister. Teaching me to braid hair. I don't remember learning, but I know how to braid."
"I dreamed of someone reading to me," Elijah added. "Before I learned to read myself. A voice I didn't recognize, but felt... safe."
Klaus said nothing. But his expression suggested similar experiences.
"Memory magic," Vincent offered. "Esther erased your recollection of Freya, but she couldn't erase the emotional imprints. Those dreams are remnants of what you lost."
"We'll get her back," Klaus said firmly. "And then we'll make Dahlia pay for every day she kept our sister imprisoned."
For once, nobody argued with his violent approach.
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