Chapter 37 – "Back to the Beginning"
The night air in New Orleans was different.
Alive.
Breathing jazz, blood, and secrets.
The original Mikaelson family returned home in silence. No celebration, no noise—just their footsteps echoing through the ancient halls of the mansion, steeped in memories too heavy to speak.
Kol… was gone.
And this time, his departure was real. No dagger putting him to sleep, no temporary vanishing. Just death—true and final.
Giuseppe Salvatore was also destroyed. Finally ripped from this world by the son he had tried to crush since the moment he was born.
Peace had returned once more—but at a high cost of blood.
Rebekah threw her bag onto the marble floor, then collapsed onto the nearest couch with a tired breath. "Oh God, I missed this place."
Elijah, in his calm tone, as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, replied, "You missed your wardrobe upstairs."
She answered with a small, teasing smile, "And the place with it, too."
Klaus stood by the window, arms folded across his chest. The lights of the French Quarter sparkled in the distance like stars fallen to earth. He said in a low voice, "It doesn't feel like victory."
Elijah responded steadily, "Victory never does. But we're still alive. And those who deserved to die… met their fate."
Silence settled between them.
A deep, unspoken understanding. Each of them had lost something… even those who had seemingly won.
---
Meanwhile, in Mystic Falls, quiet returned once more to the Salvatore house.
Stefan sat on the porch, a book in his hands—one he rarely found the time to read these days.
Damon was inside, lazily flipping through the vinyl collection, a glass of whiskey slowly sipped in his hand.
And Alexander…
He stood in the woods behind the house, staring at the reflection of his face in the clear stream water.
The red in his eyes was gone. The curse, the pain—ended.
He was no longer just a cursed human.
Nor merely a vampire.
He had become something else.
Something… greater.
The rage inside him had calmed, like a storm finally leashed. And the sorrow? It had become just an old scar, no longer an open wound.
Giuseppe… was dead.
And his soul belonged to him once again.
As the wind whispered through the trees, as if carrying the secrets of the night, Alexander lifted his head toward the sky and whispered, "I survived."
And this time… he meant it.
---
Night was quiet once again in Mystic Falls. Quiet… more than it should be.
Alexander stood in the Salvatore living room, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. In front of him, Stefan sat on the arm of the couch, watching his brother with a look of calm curiosity. Damon leaned against the wall, a glass in hand, having sensed from the beginning that something was boiling beneath the surface.
Rebekah, Klaus, and Elijah had just returned to New Orleans, but the echoes of the last war had yet to fade. Everyone was still licking their wounds.
Everyone… except Alexander.
Because he hadn't finished what he started.
Not yet.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and sharp:
"I've been thinking."
Damon muttered without looking up:
"That's never a good sign."
Alexander ignored him and continued, his features tightening further:
"We took down Kol. We destroyed Giuseppe. But amid all that chaos… someone slipped away."
Stefan's eyes narrowed, focusing:
"Who?"
His gaze met his brother's directly, and he said the name like it was a curse:
"Katherine."
A short silence, then he added with a tone laced in disgust:
"When she cut off my hand… the sword she used…"
Silence fell over the room like a heavy curtain.
Alexander continued, his eyes glinting with something strange:
"It was a sword made of shadow. And her presence… didn't belong to this world. She's working with something else—something ancient. Maybe even older than the curse itself. And she's not done with us."
Stefan turned his face away, uneasy:
"Why now? Why come back now?"
Damon chuckled bitterly, raising his glass:
"Because apparently, our lives aren't allowed five minutes of peace."
Alexander stepped forward, eyes sparking with resolve:
"I'm going after her. I have to."
Stefan said firmly, without hesitation:
"You're not going alone."
Damon raised his glass slightly and added:
"No chance you're going alone."
A faint, crooked smile appeared on Alexander's face, the kind a warrior wears after returning from death:
"Then… let's hunt her."
In the corner, the firewood in the fireplace crackled.
And outside, thunder rumbled across the distant sky, as if nature itself warned that the coming storm was near.
The next war hadn't started yet…
But its name was already on Alexander's lips.
"Katherine."
---
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