Rebekah rubbed her eyes and pushed another ancient tome aside. "This is pointless."
"Pointless?" Kol looked up from his own stack of books, sprawled across an armchair in the study. "We've only been at this for four hours. That's hardly enough time to declare defeat."
"Four hours of nothing," Rebekah corrected. "We've gone through every reference book we have on supernatural creatures. Nothing matches."
"We haven't checked the grimoires from the Eastern European collection yet."
"Those are in Old Church Slavonic. I can barely read Old Church Slavonic."
"I can," Kol said cheerfully. "One of my many talents."
Rebekah glared at him. "Of course you can."
The study was a disaster. Books lay open everywhere, stacked on tables, scattered across the floor. They'd started with their most comprehensive bestiaries, moved on to historical accounts of supernatural encounters, and were now working through obscure magical texts that predated the printing press.
And they'd found nothing.
No creatures with red eyes. No beings that could vanish at will. Nothing that matched what Elijah and Niklaus had described.
"Maybe he's unique," Rebekah said, leaning back in her chair. "Maybe there's only one of him."
"Everything has a species," Kol said, already pulling another grimoire from the shelf. "Everything fits into a category. We just haven't found the right category yet."
"Or he's something new. Something that didn't exist when these books were written."
Kol paused, considering that. "Possible. But unlikely. Did you see the way Mother reacted to him? That wasn't the reaction of someone encountering something new. That was recognition. Fear based on knowledge, not uncertainty."
Rebekah had to admit he had a point. Their mother had been terrified, yes, but there had been something else in her expression. Something that looked almost like... guilt?
"What if she does know what he is?" Rebekah asked. "What if she's encountered his kind before?"
"Then why won't she tell us?"
"Because it's Mother. She never tells us anything."
Kol grinned. "Fair point." He opened the grimoire he'd pulled, squinting at the faded text. "Let's see... creatures of the night, blood drinkers, shapeshifters... ah, here's an interesting one. 'The Ancients, beings who predate the separation of magic and nature, who walk between worlds with neither form nor—' No, wait, that's just philosophical rambling."
"Maybe we're looking in the wrong places," Rebekah said. "These are all books about creatures, about species. What if he's not a creature? What if he's something else?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know. A god? A demon? Some kind of primordial force?"
Kol looked at her with new interest. "That's... actually not a terrible theory. The red eyes, the ability to vanish, the way Mother reacted—those could all fit with something divine or infernal."
"We don't have many books on gods," Rebekah said. "Most of our collection focuses on the practical supernatural. Vampires, werewolves, witches."
"No, but Elijah might. He's always been the one for mythology and ancient religions." Kol stood up, stretching. "I'll go ask him. You keep looking through the magical texts. See if there's anything about summoning rituals that might have gone wrong."
"You think Mother summoned him?"
"I think Mother was doing something, and he appeared. Whether that's cause and effect or coincidence is what we need to determine."
Rebekah nodded and returned to her books as Kol left the study. She didn't have high hopes of finding anything useful—four hours of research had already proven that—but it was better than doing nothing.
Better than sitting around waiting for the mysterious stranger to appear again.
She turned another page, scanning text about elemental spirits, and tried not to think about those red eyes.
Elijah crouched at the edge of the forest, examining the ground with careful attention.
"Anything?" Niklaus asked from behind him.
"No." Elijah stood, brushing dirt from his hands. "No footprints, no disturbance in the undergrowth, nothing. It's as if he never left the mansion at all."
"We saw him leave."
"We saw him vanish in the hallway. We didn't actually see him leave the building." Elijah moved deeper into the trees, still searching. "For all we know, he could have gone anywhere. Another room, another country, another dimension."
Niklaus made a frustrated sound. "That's not helping."
"I'm simply being realistic about our limitations." Elijah examined a tree trunk, looking for any sign of passage. Nothing. "We're trying to track something that doesn't leave tracks. That may not even travel in the conventional sense."
They'd been at this for hours, starting from the mansion and working outward in expanding circles. Searching for any trace of the stranger, any clue to where he'd gone or what he was.
So far, they'd found nothing.
"He has to exist somewhere," Niklaus said. "He's physical—we saw him, he spoke to Mother, he walked through the mansion. That means he has a body, which means he has to be somewhere."
"Agreed. But finding that somewhere is proving difficult."
Niklaus kicked at a fallen branch. "This is pointless. We're wandering around in the woods hoping to stumble across a trail that probably doesn't exist."
"Do you have a better idea?"
"Several. Most of them involve making Mother talk."
"We've discussed this—"
"I know what we discussed," Niklaus interrupted. "But talk and research aren't finding us anything, Elijah. We need answers, and she's the only one who has them."
Elijah regarded his brother carefully. Niklaus's paranoia was in full effect—understandable, given the circumstances, but potentially dangerous if it led to rash action.
"Finn is speaking with her," Elijah said. "Let's give that a chance before we resort to more... aggressive methods."
"Finn won't get anywhere. He never does. Mother wraps him around her finger and he does whatever she wants."
"Possibly. But we should at least wait to see what he learns."
Niklaus looked like he wanted to argue, but a sound in the distance made them both freeze.
Footsteps. Human, by the pace and weight. Coming from deeper in the forest.
They exchanged a glance and moved silently in that direction.
Through the trees, they spotted a figure walking along a trail. Male, average height, wearing hiking gear. Just a human out for a walk.
Niklaus relaxed slightly. "False alarm."
But then the hiker stopped, pulled out his phone, and made a call.
"Hey, yeah, I'm out near the old Lockwood property... No, nothing unusual... Well, except for that guy I saw earlier... Yeah, at the edge of the clearing. Tall, dark-haired, just standing there staring at the woods like he was looking for something... No, he didn't see me, I don't think. Probably just another tourist... No idea where he went, he was just gone when I looked again..."
Niklaus and Elijah looked at each other.
"The clearing," Elijah said quietly.
They moved.
The clearing was empty when they arrived.
It was a small open space near the old Lockwood property, surrounded by oak trees and undergrowth. Nothing remarkable about it, nothing that would draw attention.
But Niklaus could smell it immediately.
"Someone was here," he said, moving to the center of the clearing. "Recently."
Elijah joined him, his own senses confirming it. There was a scent in the air—faint, unusual, not quite like anything he'd encountered before. Not human, not vampire, not werewolf or witch.
Something other.
"This is where he was," Niklaus said with certainty. "The hiker saw him. This is where he went after leaving the mansion."
"But why?" Elijah examined the clearing, looking for any clue. "What would bring him here?"
There was nothing remarkable about this location. No magical significance that Elijah was aware of, no historical importance. Just a clearing in the woods.
Unless...
"The Lockwood property," Elijah said slowly. "The werewolf bloodline. Could there be a connection?"
"Between a mysterious stranger and werewolves?" Niklaus frowned. "What kind of connection?"
"I don't know. But he chose to come here, to this specific location. There must be a reason."
Niklaus circled the clearing, searching for any other traces. But aside from the lingering scent, there was nothing. No footprints, no disturbed vegetation, no physical evidence of anyone having been here.
"He's watching us," Niklaus said suddenly.
"What?"
"Think about it. He appears at our ball, talks to Mother, then vanishes. Now we find evidence he's been wandering around Mystic Falls, observing things. He's watching. Learning. Gathering information."
"To what end?"
"That's what I want to know." Niklaus's hands clenched into fists. "What's his goal? What does he want with our family?"
Elijah didn't have an answer. But the pattern was concerning. The stranger wasn't hiding, exactly—he'd made his presence known at the ball. But he also wasn't making himself easy to find.
It suggested someone playing a game. Someone who wanted them to know he existed but wasn't ready to reveal his full hand yet.
"We should speak with the werewolves," Elijah said. "See if they've noticed anything unusual."
"The werewolves barely tolerate us on a good day."
"Nevertheless. If this stranger has some connection to their bloodline, they deserve to know."
Niklaus looked like he wanted to argue, but finally nodded. "Fine. We'll talk to them. But I doubt they'll tell us anything useful."
They left the clearing, heading back toward town. But Elijah couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something. Some crucial piece of information that would make everything else make sense.
The stranger had come to this clearing. Had stood here, looking at the forest.
Looking for what?
Finn found his mother in her room, sitting by the window and staring out at nothing.
"Mother?"
She didn't turn. "Finn. I wondered when one of you would come."
"Elijah asked me to speak with you." He entered the room, closing the door behind him. "About the stranger from the ball."
"Of course he did." Esther's voice was flat. "And what did Elijah tell you to ask?"
"Who he is. What he wants. Why you're so afraid of him."
Now she did turn, and Finn was struck again by how shaken she looked. His mother was always composed, always in control. But right now, she looked almost... fragile.
"I can't tell you that, Finn."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both." She stood up, moving away from the window. "There are some things you're better off not knowing."
"We're not children anymore, Mother. We're a thousand years old. We've seen things, done things—there's very little left that could shock us."
"This would."
The certainty in her voice made him pause. "What is he?"
"I don't know. Not exactly." Esther wrapped her arms around herself. "But I know what he's capable of. I know what he could do if he wanted to."
"Then tell us. Let us prepare, let us defend ourselves—"
"You can't defend against him," she interrupted. "That's what you don't understand. He's not something you can fight or kill or outrun. He's... beyond that."
Finn stared at her. In all his years, he'd never heard his mother sound so defeated.
"Then what do we do?" he asked quietly.
"We wait. We see what he wants. We hope he gets bored and leaves." Esther met his eyes. "And we don't provoke him."
"Elijah and Niklaus are trying to track him. Kol and Rebekah are researching."
"They won't find anything." She said it with absolute conviction. "He's older than their books, more powerful than their imagination. They're wasting their time."
"Should I tell them to stop?"
"Would they listen?"
Finn had to admit, probably not. His siblings were many things, but obedient wasn't one of them.
"Mother," he said carefully. "Does this have anything to do with... with what we were planning?"
Her expression closed off immediately. "No. That's separate."
But Finn noticed she didn't meet his eyes when she said it.
"The spell components were destroyed," he continued. "Did he do that?"
"Finn—"
"Did he destroy our spell?"
Silence.
Then, quietly: "Yes."
Finn felt something cold settle in his stomach. "How did he even know about it?"
"I don't know."
"Did you tell him?"
"Of course not!" Esther's composure cracked. "Why would I tell him anything? I didn't even know he existed until he appeared at the ball!"
"Then how—"
"I don't know, Finn!" She turned away again. "I don't know how he found out. I don't know why he stopped it. I don't know what he wants. All I know is that he's here, and we can't do anything about it."
The despair in her voice was palpable.
Finn wanted to comfort her, wanted to tell her they'd find a way through this. But he couldn't. Because for the first time in his very long life, his mother—the woman who'd created vampires, who'd died and returned, who'd orchestrated complex plans spanning centuries—seemed genuinely helpless.
And if she was helpless, what did that mean for the rest of them?
"I'll tell Elijah," he said finally. "That you can't help us."
"Won't," she corrected quietly. "Tell him I won't help you. It's safer that way."
Finn nodded and left, closing the door softly behind him.
In the hallway, he stood for a moment, processing.
The stranger had destroyed their spell. Had somehow known about a plan that only he and his mother were aware of. Had terrified Esther badly enough that she'd abandoned everything.
Who—or what—could do that?
And more importantly: what did he want with them?
The Mystic Grill was quieter tonight.
He sat at the same spot at the bar, working through a plate of fries and watching the evening crowd filter in. Fewer people than last night, but that was fine. He wasn't here for the crowd.
He was here because the food was good and the atmosphere was pleasant and he enjoyed the simple act of existing in public without anyone realizing what he was.
The bartender—the same one from last night—approached with a smile. "Back again? You must really like our burgers."
"They're excellent," he confirmed. "Though tonight I'm trying the fries."
"Good choice. You want anything to drink?"
"Water is fine."
The bartender poured him a glass and moved off to help another customer.
He ate his fries and listened to the ambient noise. A group of college students at a nearby table arguing about philosophy. A couple on a date trying to decide what to order. Someone playing pool in the back.
Normal. Human. Uncomplicated.
The door opened, and he felt the presence before he saw them.
Two vampires. Not Originals—younger, weaker. Probably locals who'd been turned in the last century or so.
They moved to a booth in the corner, ordered drinks, settled in.
He watched them peripherally. They were nervous, glancing around like they expected trouble. One kept checking his phone. The other drummed his fingers on the table.
Interesting.
After a few minutes, a third vampire joined them. This one was female, older by the feel of her, carrying herself with more confidence.
They spoke in low voices, too quiet for the humans to hear but perfectly audible to him.
"—sure about this?" the nervous one was saying.
"I'm sure," the female replied. "The Originals are distracted. Some stranger showed up at their ball last night and they've been running around like headless chickens trying to figure out who he is."
"So?"
"So this is our chance. While they're focused on their mystery guest, we can make our move."
"Make our move to do what?"
"Leave. Get out of Mystic Falls before they remember we exist and decide we're inconvenient."
The other vampire laughed nervously. "You think they'd really—"
"I think Klaus Mikaelson kills people for looking at him wrong," the female interrupted. "So yes, I think we should leave while we have the chance."
They continued planning their exit strategy, oblivious to the fact that every word was being heard.
He ate another fry, considering.
So the Mikaelsons' investigation was common knowledge among the local vampires. And it was causing enough distraction that some saw it as an opportunity.
Entertaining.
He wondered if the Mikaelsons knew their investigation was being watched. Probably not—they were too focused on finding him to notice what was happening around them.
The vampires in the corner finished their drinks and left, still making their plans in hushed tones.
He returned his attention to his fries.
Behind the bar, a television was showing the local news. Something about town politics, a charity event, the usual mundane concerns of human society.
It was all very peaceful.
Outside, somewhere in Mystic Falls, five Original vampires were tearing the town apart looking for him. Their mother was hiding in her room, terrified. Their research was going nowhere, their tracking attempts finding nothing.
And he was sitting in a bar, eating fries, listening to local vampires gossip.
The contrast was delightful.
He finished his meal, left payment on the bar, and stood to go.
The bartender caught his eye. "Heading out? Have a good night."
"You too," he said pleasantly.
Outside, the night was cool and clear. He could feel the Mikaelsons from here—Elijah and Niklaus returning from the forest, Kol and Rebekah still buried in books, Finn heading to report his conversation with Esther.
All of them frustrated, confused, searching for answers they wouldn't find.
He smiled and walked into the darkness.
Tomorrow would bring new developments. More investigation, more paranoia, more desperate attempts to understand what he was.
He was looking forward to it.
But for tonight, he'd enjoyed his fries, observed his entertainment, and reminded himself that sometimes the best view was from the sidelines.
Let them search.
Let them wonder.
Let them try.
Eventually, when he was ready, he'd make himself known properly.
But not yet.
For now, he was content to watch and wait and enjoy the show they were putting on for him.
After all, he had all the time in the world.