When Michael returned to the quiet, secluded sanctuary he called home, he closed the door behind him and turned to see his witch, Tamara was standing in the center of the foyer, with an expectant expression on her face. "Is it ready?" Michael asked, shedding his coat.
Tamara nodded slowly. "The anchor is set and the circle is ready as well."
Michael's lips curled into a predatory smirk. "Good."
He led the way to the basement, where the temperature dropped significantly. In the center of a complex, chalk-drawn ritual circle lay a bound, muscular body. It was one of Klaus's personal hybrid guards, one whose neck Michael had snapped earlier that evening at the party. The hybrid's body was currently in a state of suspended animation, caught between life and the finality of a broken neck.
"Well then," Michael murmured, his eyes glowing with an inner fire. "Let us begin, shall we?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small, glass containers, both were no more than two inches long. Inside of one is a fine grey powder, and in the other was a darker shade of grey powder.
Michael unscrewed the lid of both containers with a steady hand and placed them precisely at the head of the ritual circle. He and Tamara took their positions on opposite sides, their voices beginning to hum in a low, rhythmic unison.
"Anima non transita…"
As the incantation began, the basement seemed to groan. The shadows on the walls lengthened, twisting into frantic shapes.
"Inter limen te voco. Quod solvi, non solutum sit. Quod cecidit, non quiescat."
Michael reached out, gesturing toward the containers, he drew upon the power of the ash and the other darker one. Both began to swirl and then mixed together, lifted by an invisible, localized gale.
"Per cinis fractum, Per corpus apertum, Mutetur iter. Ingredere!"
The effect was instantaneous. The basement began to shake violently, dust falling from the rafters. The ash suddenly ignited, bursting into a strange, ghostly blue flame. The fire didn't consume the powder; it danced upon it, fueling the bridge between the worlds.
At that exact moment, the hybrid on the floor gasped. His neck already healed and was now back to the land of the living. He was forcibly jolted back into consciousness. His eyes flew open and were instantly flooded with a terrifying feeling. The hybrid's hands clawed at the stone floor, his body arching as if an invisible weight was trying to crush him into the earth. He looked up at Michael, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated terror as he felt his very soul being pushed aside to make room for something far more hungry.
"What... what are you..." the hybrid managed to choke out, his voice a desperate, wet rasp. "Stop... please... I can feel... something is... it's cold..."
He tried to scream, to beg for his life, but his tongue seemed to thicken in his mouth. He looked at the blue flames dancing on the ash.
Michael didn't flinch. He simply watched with cold fascination as the hybrid's plea died in his throat, replaced by a deep, guttural roar.
Michael remained unmoved by the hybrid's dying gurgles, his gaze fixed on the blue flames as they began to liquefy the air around the ritual circle. Beside him, Tamara's hands trembled slightly, her voice barely audible over the roar of the unnatural wind.
"Why are you bringing him back, boss?" she asked, her eyes reflecting the dancing fire. "Is he really necessary?."
Michael didn't look away as the fire finally consumed the screaming hybrid, the flames turning white-hot. "We have a crisis on our hands, Tamara. A crisis we cannot allow to escalate any further than it already has."
He stepped closer to the heat, the light casting long, jagged shadows against the stone walls. "We need to find and use any means necessary to deny Cade further access to this realm. We need to find those abominations of his and the new one they just created. To do that, we need to hunt for them, and I must admit, it isn't going well with our people."
He paused, his jaw tightening. "I could do it alone, but we need to cover more ground. We need something that can actively pursue them throughout this world without fail until they are vanquished. Something that doesn't tire, doesn't pity, and doesn't stop."
As the screaming from the circle abruptly stopped, replaced by a heavy, pressurized silence, Michael narrowed his eyes. "We need a man of commitment, conviction, and sheer fucking will to do that for me. Besides," he added, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous octave, "I hate to admit it, but they have eluded me twice now. I am not in the mood for a third time, Tama."
He finally turned to her, his expression grim. "Although I killed off Ankhar, that banshee was able to bring another monster to life, dragging us back to square one. That is not acceptable. So yes, this is absolutely necessary."
The smoke and fire began to die down, coiling into a thick, suffocating cloud. In the center of the scorched circle, a jagged cocoon of grey ash had formed, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic light like a dying coal.
CRACK.
A hand, grey and dusted with soot but possessed of a terrifying strength, punched through the side of the ash cocoon.
Michael watched as the shell crumbled, a dark smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 'Well,' he thought, 'it would seem the ashes of the phoenix do live up to expectations. Although I wonder how the hell those shamans Elijah dealt with knew of its existence in the first place.'
The figure within the cocoon groaned a deep, Michael looked down at the figure emerging from the ash. The body was the hybrid's, but the spirit, the raw, jagged essence visible to Michael's red-tinted vision was unmistakable. The new incarnated entity looked up, his new eyes adjusting to the dim light of the basement with confusion "Well?" Michael asked, his voice echoing in the stone room. "How do you feel? Relieved to be back in the land of the living, eh?"
The man stood up, the ash falling from his shoulders like grey snow. He didn't speak immediately; he simply clenched his fists, testing the strength of this new vessel… hmmm weaker. Michael smirked, seeing the real face of the man inhabiting the shell with his hellhound eyes.
"Mikael," Michael murmured, a welcoming, dangerous lilt to his voice.
Mikael, the Destroyer, took his breath of the living world once again after just dying a few hours ago.
————
The sun was high over Mystic Falls, Klaus was on his mobile, pacing the edge of a massive clearing where the foundations of his new mansion were already being laid.
"Tony, get the rest of the package ready," Klaus barked into the phone. "It's time for us to get things settled. I want the transition to be seamless."
He hung up, tucking the phone into his pocket as he walked toward the construction site. Suddenly, he stopped. He didn't turn around, but his posture shifted into something predatory.
"What do you want, Michael?"
Michael stepped out from behind him, falling into step beside his brother. He wore a particular, feline smile, one that immediately set Klaus's nerves on edge.
Klaus glanced sideways, his eyes narrowing. "Why do you have that look?"
"What look?" Michael asked innocently.
"That look of you planning something I most definitely would not like," Klaus retorted.
Michael let out a soft, airy laugh. "Wow. You really are paranoid, little brother. Am I so untrustworthy that you would suspect my innocent little smile?"
"The fact that you claim it to be 'innocent' is the exact reason why I don't trust it," Klaus snapped. He stopped walking and faced Michael fully. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to not one, but two of my hybrids, would you?"
Michael tilted his head. "Oh? Which ones?"
"Nelson and Jacob," Klaus said, his voice dropping an octave.
Michael looked up at the sky, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. Nelson? Nelson?" He looked back at Klaus, his head tilting with a sudden, jaunty look, "Nope. Doesn't ring any bells at all. Are you sure I've seen him before in my life? And as for this... Jacob... I doubt you mean Esau's younger brother, do you? Because that would be a very long walk for a short joke."
Klaus stared at him for a long beat, then a slow, mocking smirk spread across his face. "Right. Of course." He didn't believe a single word, but he knew better than to push a wall that wouldn't move. "So, what do you want? Mikael is dead, and I intend to finally enjoy my immortality to its fullest."
"Hmm. Well, for one," Michael said, his smile dimming into something more authoritative, "I want to say you are not allowed to go after the Gilbert girl or those she cares about."
Klaus let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "And what makes you think I'd listen to you?"
Michael leaned in, his gaze turning stone-cold. "Oh, you will, little brother. You see, I'm not asking you. I'm actually telling you. Seeing as you saw fit to barge into their lives and dictate a few things, I'm doing the same. Consider it a balancing of the scales."
Klaus frowned, his jaw working as he stifled a snarl. Finally, he laughed a bitter, jagged sound. "Fine. Fine! I'll spare the very people who tried to turn me into a pile of ash."
"Oh, brother, don't be a hypocrite," Michael laughed.
"If you are making requests, then I have one of my own," Klaus countered.
"Oh? And what's that?"
"Return my sister to me," Klaus demanded. "Now."
Michael hummed, considering it. "Hmm. Rebekah. She and I still have a few bits of business to smoothen out."
"That's not my problem, brother, that's yours," Klaus growled. "I want my sister back. Now."
Michael looked at him, a strange, knowing glint in his eyes. "You really want me to awaken her?"
"She's my family. Of course I do."
"Is that so?" Michael smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Fine then. Your wish will be granted, brother."
He turned on his heel to leave, but stopped after a few paces. He looked back over his shoulder, the sunlight catching the sharp angle of his jaw. "Oh, and by the way... she's very much aware of what you did to your mother."
In a blur, Michael was gone.
Klaus remained standing in the middle of the construction site, the color draining from his face. He froze, the hammer of Michael's words echoing in his mind. The secret he had kept for a thousand years, the lie that had kept his siblings by his side was out.