I have well over 100 pages written so far, which I'm currently editing. Even though it's been years, this story hasn't left my head, and I need to continue writing it. Elijah and Klaus are two of my favorite TV characters.

I hope those of you who bookmarked this story will keep reading it. Even if you don't, I will post because I NEED to finish this story.

Though the romance themes feel like a slow burn, this story goes day by day, so in the grand scheme of things, it's not really a slow burn.

I also changed Ollie's playby to Camila Mendes. Ollie was based on my old friend, who I am no longer friends with and haven't been in years. To keep the unpleasant memories at a distance, that's why I did it. I know there were comments about Ollie being… unpleasant. I've tried to shift that. Also, I love Camila Mendes, and her looks and the personalities of her characters fit my new view on Ollie. Alicia Vikander is still in my mind for Liza. New characters will be introduced later, and I'll give playbys to them as well if you're the type of reader who needs to see actors' faces. I'm one of those. Benny's playby is a young Cameron Monaghan.

Enjoy!*

—

Before Liza could say another word, Ollie and Klaus returned from the kitchen, the scent of steeping tea trailing behind them. Klaus carried the teapot with a bit too much enthusiasm, while Ollie followed with cups in hand, eyeing him warily.

"Here we are," Klaus announced as he set the teapot down. "A civilized gathering at last."

Liza barely acknowledged him as she forced herself to sit beside Ollie at the table. She was still too aware of Elijah's gaze, of the weight of the conversation they'd just had. She couldn't shake the feeling that he'd caught on to something–something she hadn't meant to give away.

Elijah, for his part, remained composed. But there was a flicker of intrigue in his expression as he watched her, his mind clearly turning over something.

Ollie broke the silence. "So, are we going to sit here drinking tea, or are you actually going to tell us what the hell you two really want?"

Klaus chuckled, settling into his seat. "Straight to the point. I like that about you, love."

Ollie did not look amused.

Liza reached for her cup, anything to occupy her hands. She needed something warm, something grounding. "She's right. If we're really doing this, I want honesty. No half-truths, no cryptic nonsense."

Elijah's lips parted slightly, a quiet breath taken in as if considering his next words carefully. His fingers traced along the rim of his teacup, thoughtful. "Very well," he said at last. "You deserve the truth. But know this, Liza–some truths, once spoken, cannot be undone."

He lifted his gaze, meeting hers with a quiet intensity. "Are you certain you wish to hear it?"
Liza tightened her grip around the warm ceramic of her cup, glancing at Ollie before shifting her gaze back to Elijah. The weight of his question lingered between them, heavy and full of unspoken warnings.

Did she want to hear it? No. But did she need to?

She exhaled sharply through her nose, steeling herself. "Tell me."

Ollie folded her arms, leaning against the back of her chair. "Yeah, go on, then."

Elijah inclined his head slightly, composed as ever. "I realize this isn't the first time we've had this conversation."

Liza's jaw tightened. "No, it isn't."

She looked at Klaus, then back at Elijah.

"And yet, here we are."

Klaus grinned, leaning forward, resting his forearms against his knees. "I insisted."

Liza didn't like the way he said it. She didn't like the way he looked at her, as if she were some puzzle he couldn't wait to solve.

Elijah remained still. "We need to go over it again because my brother, unlike myself, is not known for his patience."

Klaus smirked. "Oh, I can be patient. When the occasion calls for it."

Ollie scoffed. "Yeah? You seem real patient."

Klaus turned his sharp blue gaze to her, his smirk never faltering. "I have my moments."

Liza shook her head. "Look, I don't know what my grandmother wanted, if that was her, and I don't care what Benny said, and I definitely don't care what you vampires want."

Klaus exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers on the table. "See, that's where you and I differ, love. I do care."

Liza stared at him. "Why?"

Klaus tilted his head. "Because I'm not just any vampire."

Liza narrowed her eyes, but beside her, Ollie went stiff.

Klaus's smirk deepened. "I'm the Hybrid."

Liza glanced at Ollie, expecting skepticism, but her friend's expression had darkened. Ollie exhaled sharply, realization dawning in her eyes. "No way."

Klaus chuckled. "Oh? Have you heard of me, then?"

Ollie didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was quieter. "Every werewolf has."

Liza frowned. "What does that mean?"

Ollie turned to her, her jaw tight. "It means he's not lying."

Liza blinked, her heart picking up speed. "And I'm just supposed to take his word for it?"

Klaus leaned back, looking at her lazily. "I suppose you could go around asking the right creatures. You'll find none willing to dispute it."

Elijah finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "We are the Originals, Liza."

Liza's stomach twisted. That… that couldn't be true. She'd heard stories, dark fairytales of old, ancient vampires, the first ones. From none other than her grandmother. Those stories both fascinated and scared the shit out of her seven year old self, giving her nightmares for weeks. She vaguely remembered that the First Ones had been born in Scandinavia.

Ollie let out a short, humorless laugh. "Holy shit."

Liza shook her head. "You can't prove that."

Klaus exhaled a small chuckle. "And yet, here you are, still listening."

Ollie put a hand on the table beside her tea cup, which she wasn't drinking either. "Wait a second. The Hybrid. The Originals. That means…" She turned to Liza, eyes sharp. "Liza, they don't just want answers. If they're here, it means you're–"

Klaus cut in smoothly, "Involved with us, and not may witches get so lucky."

Silence.

Liza felt a cold dread sink into her bones. "What?"

Elijah folded his hands, his gaze steady, measured. "Your grandmother, Valeria, didn't reach out to Benny by chance. She came through him the other night, spoke directly to you, because you are meant to change the course of our family's fate."

Liza's breath hitched. She had done everything to avoid thinking about that moment–when Elijah first came to her apartment, after the attack, after he saved her. When he called Benny and put him on Facetime. Then, for a few fleeting, impossible seconds, her grandmother had spoken through him. It had been brief, but undeniable. And since then, Liza had buried it deep, forcing herself not to acknowledge it, not to let it be real.

But hearing Elijah say it now, so plainly, shattered that illusion.

Klaus nodded, eyes gleaming. "And I want to know why."

Liza shook her head, refusing to let herself get pulled into whatever insanity this was. "I have no idea why. My grandma never brought you up, not really. Only fairytales. So I don't know how I can help you. I don't know what your "salvation" means. Shouldn't you know? Are you in trouble?"
Klaus tilted his head, his smirk unwavering. "Now that's the question, isn't it?" His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "Are we in trouble?" He glanced at Elijah, then back at Liza. "Depends on who you ask."

Liza exhaled sharply, frustration creeping into her voice. "So you don't even know?" She shook her head, rubbing her temples. "Great. You're expecting me to have all the answers when I don't even know what the fuck I'm supposed to be a part of."

Elijah remained composed, but his gaze didn't waver. "Perhaps not yet. But your grandmother believed you would. That you are the key to whatever comes next."

Liza scoffed. "The key to what? Saving you? From what?"

Klaus's smirk faltered just slightly, but his confidence didn't wane. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together as if he were settling in for a long, inevitable conversation.

"From ourselves, I suppose," he said simply.

The words sent an eerie silence through the room.

Ollie's brows knitted together. "That's not an answer."

Klaus let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "No, but it is the truth." He took a careful sip of his tea. "You see, love, my family has existed for a thousand years. We were the first vampires, created through magic. But that magic came with consequences."

Liza swallowed hard, gripping her cup tighter. "What kind of consequences?"

Elijah answered this time, his voice measured, steady. "An unending existence. A curse that has bound us to blood and violence, no matter how we try to rise above it."

Klaus scoffed. "Speak for yourself, brother. I quite enjoy what I am." He turned back to Liza, studying her. "But even I know nothing lasts forever."

Liza shook her head. "What does that have to do with me?"

Klaus tilted his head, watching her like a predator watching prey. "That, sweetheart, is what we're here to find out."

Liza could feel Ollie tense beside her, but she forced herself to hold Klaus's gaze. "You don't know, do you? You don't actually know what my grandmother meant."

Elijah exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the edge of his cup. "Not yet."

Klaus's lips parted slightly, his blue eyes gleaming in the dim light. "But we will."

Liza felt the weight of those words settle in her chest like a stone. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
Elijah studied Liza closely, noting the subtle shift in her stance, the hint of uncertainty that flickered across her expression. There was something there–a truth she wasn't ready to acknowledge, a wall she was still trying to keep up despite the cracks that were beginning to show.

He leaned forward, just slightly. "Liza," he began, his voice calm, measured. "What is it that you're afraid of?" It wasn't an accusation–not quite. But Elijah had honed his intuition over a thousand years. He could see beyond the surface, to the fear that lurked beneath.
Liz looked down at her cup of tea, into the dark brown depths, not drinking it. Her hesitation to answer made it clear: she was afraid, but she didn't want to tell them. She didn't know these vampires.

Ollie exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes before Liza could even attempt to deflect. "She's afraid of her magic."

Liza's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "Ollie–"

"What? It's the truth," Ollie shot back, arms crossing over her chest. "You won't say it, so I will."

Liza clenched her jaw, her grip tightening around the cup. She hated that Ollie had answered for her–hated even more that she was right.

Klaus's smirk deepened, intrigue sparking in his gaze. "Ah. Now we're getting somewhere."

Elijah's gaze narrowed, searching Liza's face as she fought to regain her composure. He could see the defiance in her eyes, the effort to mask her fear.

"You're afraid of your own power," he said quietly, not a question, but a statement of fact. The truth hung heavy in the room, unspoken but acknowledged by the clenching of Liza's jaw, the subtle tension in her shoulders.

Klaus seemed pleased at this new revelation, leaning forward in his seat. "What is it you're afraid you'll do, love?"
Liza gritted her teeth, glancing up briefly at the brothers. "Look, my grandma was crazy. Her power made her unstable. I don't want to "inherit" it. Okay? Does that not seem reasonable?"

Now she looked up at the Mikaelsons with a hard glare. She also shot Ollie and annoyed glance.
Elijah studied the girl's face, the fear etched into her expression. He could see the vulnerability there, a rawness that spoke of a struggle much deeper than she was willing–or able–to express.

"It's a valid concern," he replied carefully, choosing his words with the weight of centuries of understanding. "But you have to understand something, Liza. Power isn't inherently good or evil. It's what you do with it that matters."

Klaus gave a sharp laugh as he regarded Liza, who looked speechless as Elijah's words sunk in. "Look at her. She's terrified. Might as well be a trembling fawn."
Ollie shot to her feet, her chair squeeking. "Back off," she snapped at Klaus, her dark eyes flashing. "She's not some experiment for you to poke at."

Klaus merely raised a brow, utterly unbothered. "Oh, I disagree. She's the most interesting thing to happen in quite some time."

The lights flickered overhead, a brief stutter of energy, followed by a slow hum of power building in the air. Liza inhaled sharply, her fingers gripping around her cup, again, as an unnatural chill swept through the room. Nearby, Ramses let out a low whine, ears flattening, his body tense as if sensing something neither wolf nor vampire could fully perceive.

Elijah's eyes flickered to the ceiling, then back to Liza. "Control it," he instructed, his voice even but firm.

"I'm not doing anything," Liza snapped, but her pulse was racing, and she knew–deep down–that wasn't true.

Klaus smirked, resting his chin on his hand, utterly at ease. "That's the problem, isn't it?"

"Stop provoking her–" Ollie started.

Klaus chuckled. That's exactly what he was doing. Testing the waters.

Liz let go of her cup, clenched her hand, and slammed it on the table. As she did so, the nearest light bulb shattered. "Fuck off!" she snapped.
Elijah remained infuriatingly calm, barely glancing up at the burst lightbulb. Klaus, on the other hand, looked practically elated, as if Liza had just provided the day's entertainment. "There you go, love!" he praised, his tone laced with mockery. "Now, let's see what else you can do."

Finally, Elijah shot Klaus a look that could have frozen hellfire. This wasn't a game. They were supposed to be helping her, not tempting her to lose control.
Ramses barked, his body low to the ground, fur bristling as the tension in the room crackled like static electricity. Liza's chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths, her pulse pounding under her skin. The air itself felt heavier, charged with something she wanted to ignore.

Ollie placed a hand on Liza's arm, steady but firm. "That's enough," she muttered, glaring at Klaus.

Klaus only grinned, his amusement unshaken. "Oh, but it isn't," he mused, tilting his head as he studied Liza like she was some fascinating new discovery. "This is just the beginning."

Elijah exhaled sharply, cutting his brother another dangerous glance before returning his attention to Liza. "You need to control it," he said, voice measured but insistent. "Not suppress it. That is where power becomes dangerous."

Liza yanked her arm away from Ollie's grip. "I don't want it at all," she bit out.

The remaining light flickered once more, and then, suddenly, everything stilled. The energy that had been pressing in around them withdrew as if a storm had passed, leaving behind only silence.

Elijah studied her with quiet intensity. "Whether you want it or not, it's yours. And it will keep coming until you face it."

Liza swallowed hard, clenching her fists at her sides. "You don't know that."

Klaus leaned back with his tea, pinky up, watching her with something almost like satisfaction. "Oh, I do," he said, sipping. "Because I know power when I see it."

Ramses let out another low whine, circling closer to Liza. She absently reached for him, her fingers curling into his fur. He was solid. Grounding. Unlike the rest of this insane conversation.

Ollie squared her shoulders. "Look, she's not your personal science project, so back the hell off."

Klaus chuckled, standing fluidly. "Oh, I'm just getting started, darling."

Elijah rose as well, his presence a silent command for Klaus to stand down. "Enough, Niklaus." His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the authority behind it.

For a moment, it seemed Klaus might challenge him, but then he merely smiled–slow, knowing. "Fine." He turned his gaze back to Liza, his smirk never fading. "But this isn't over, love. Not by a long shot."
Elijah watched Liza carefully, noting the stubborn set of her features, the way her gaze flickered between him and his brother. He could see the determination in her eyes, the refusal to be cowed by Klaus's taunts. Elijah took a measured breath, his voice a low, commanding rumble.
"You are capable of control, Liza," he said firmly. "You just need to embrace it, not fear it."

She let out a deliberate yet shaky breath. "Look, I don't need or want a lesson on magic from vampires. I don't care if you're the "first ones" in history."

Klaus scoffed, setting down his cup and folding his arms. "And yet, here we are. Seems like fate has a rather twisted sense of humor, doesn't it?"

Ollie shifted closer to Liza in her chair, her position protective. "She doesn't owe you anything."

Elijah's gaze didn't waver. "Perhaps not," he conceded. "But she owes it to herself to understand what's happening to her."

Liza exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temple. "Nothing is happening to me," she snapped. "You two just keep showing up and stirring up things that don't need to be stirred."

Klaus gave an exaggerated sigh. "Denial is such a tedious phase."

The lights flickered again, as if reacting to her frustration. Ramses let out a low whine, ears twitching.

Elijah watched her carefully, his expression unreadable. "Your power is surfacing whether you acknowledge it or not. You need to control it before it controls you."

Liza turned sharply toward him. "And why do you care?"

Elijah met her gaze, steady and unwavering. "Because your grandmother seemed to believe you were meant to change everything." For them, his family.

Liza's breath hitched. There it was again–that damn weight pressing down on her. The thing she had spent years ignoring, pretending didn't exist.

Klaus smirked. "And I, for one, would like to know exactly how."

"Why don't you contact your buddy Benny? Ask him to contact my grandma again?" Liza asked, looking at Elijah. "I don't talk to the dead. I don't have answers for you."

Elijah regarded her in silence for a moment, his sharp gaze taking in the way her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table. He could practically feel the resistance radiating off her, the wall she had fortified with fear and denial.

"If it were that simple," he said, voice calm yet deliberate, "we would have done so already. But Benny has proven himself… unavailable."

Klaus huffed a short, amused breath. "What my brother means is that our dear psychic friend is too busy milking his newfound fame to be of any real use." He leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees, eyes gleaming. "Which means, darling, we're stuck with you."

Liza's fingers twitched, but she quickly folded her arms across her chest. "Sounds like a you problem."

Klaus grinned. "Oh, but you see, that's where you're mistaken."

Elijah interjected before Klaus could push her further. "Liza, whether you like it or not, your magic is awakening. That much is evident." His gaze flickered briefly to the shattered light bulb before returning to her. "And if your grandmother's words are true, you are far more significant than you realize."

Liza exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Significant for what? You keep saying I'm supposed to change things for you, but you don't even know what that means."

Elijah's expression remained unreadable. "Not yet. But your grandmother believed you would."

Liza's chest tightened. "Well, she believed a lot of things."

Ollie scoffed, shifting her stance. "That's an understatement."

Klaus tilted his head, watching her with an almost lazy amusement. "Tell me, love–if you truly believe this is all nonsense, why do you look so bloody terrified?"

Liza's lips parted, but no words came. Because he was right. She was terrified. Not of them. Not even of what they were asking her to be. She was terrified because, deep down, some part of her feared that her grandmother had been right all along: she was supposed to inherit.

Elijah's gaze remained steady on Liza, reading the unease and conflict playing across her face. He could sense her struggle, the internal battle between accepting what she feared and rejecting what she didn't understand. It was a familiar battle–one he'd fought within himself over the course of his millennia-long existence.

"It wouldn't hurt to explore this... gift," he suggested, carefully choosing his words. "We don't need to make a grand declaration of your role in the world. We could start small, learn more about your magic, learn how to control it."
Liza let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "Right. Because you Originals clearly take things slow."

Klaus smirked, amused. "Oh, I do enjoy her, Elijah."

Elijah, however, remained unfazed, his gaze unwavering. "I'm not asking for your trust, Liza. Not yet. But consider this–denying what you are will not make it disappear. Ignoring your magic won't change the fact that it exists."

Liza's jaw tightened, her fingers wringing the fabric of her sweater. She hated how reasonable he sounded. How, despite every instinct screaming at her to push them away, a small part of her knew he was right. Still, she wasn't ready to concede anything.

"Are you done?" she asked flatly.

For the first time, Elijah allowed himself a small, knowing smile. "For now."

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, retrieving a small, cream-colored card. With a graceful movement, he set it down on the table in front of her. "My number," he said simply. "Should you wish to discuss this further."

Liza eyed the card but made no move to take it.

Klaus stood, stretching with a content sigh. "Well, this has been fun. But I believe we've worn out our welcome." He shot Ollie a look, smirking. "Unless you'd like us to stay for a nightcap?"

Ollie rolled her eyes. "I'd rather drink bleach."

Klaus chuckled, clearly delighted. "Ah, charming."

Elijah stepped away from the table, adjusting his jacket. "We'll leave you to your evening. But know this, Liza–you can pretend this isn't happening, you can push us away, but the truth has a way of finding you regardless."

Liza didn't respond, didn't move from the table, keeping her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Klaus glanced at Elijah, then back at the girls. "Sweet dreams, ladies."

With that, the Mikaelsons strode toward the door and put their shoes back on. Ollie followed, arms still folded, making sure they actually left. As the door shut behind them, Liza finally exhaled, shoulders sagging. She glanced at the card Elijah had left behind, something unreadable flickering in her expression.

Ollie watched her carefully. "Are you gonna call them?"

Liza had stood by now. She scoffed, swiping the card off the table and glaring down at it. "No." But even as she said it, she wasn't sure she believed it herself.

--

Elijah stepped out into the night, the cool air a stark contrast to the tension that still hung in Liza's apartment. He and Klaus remained silent for a few moments, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

"Well," Klaus drawled, a hint of amusement in his voice, "that went about as well as we could have hoped."

Elijah glanced at his brother, a slight arch to his brow. "You were uncharacteristically reserved."

Klaus shrugged, his signature smirk on his lips. "What can I say? I enjoy a challenge."

Elijah chuckled despite himself, the sound rich and rare. "You enjoyed pushing the witch's buttons, more like."

Klaus shrugged again, unbothered. "The potential in her power… it's enticing." He looked at Elijah, their gazes holding for a moment. "And you're intrigued by her, aren't you? More than just her magic."

Elijah didn't respond immediately, instead staring out into the city's night. There was a depth to Liza that intrigued him–her resilience, her fear that hid beneath a facade of indifference. She was a puzzle, and he had always been a strategist, solving problems, piecing together plans.

"She's important, Niklaus." Elijah looked back at his brother, his expression serious. "We need to ensure she doesn't make the mistake of fearing her magic. If she embraces it, if she can control it…" He trailed off, the unspoken possibility hanging in the air.

Klaus regarded his brother for a moment, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. It was rare for Elijah to feel so uncertain, so... invested. "You're worried," Klaus commented, a flicker of curiosity in his voice. "You're worried that her fear might become our problem."

Elijah's gaze returned to the city, a silent acknowledgment. "We have enough problems." But there was something in his tone, a hesitation that didn't go unnoticed by Klaus.

Klaus chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You always were a soft touch, Elijah."

Elijah raised an eyebrow, looking at Klaus. "And you were always impulsive, Klaus. This city is uncharted territory for us. We should proceed with caution."

Klaus rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. "Always the strategist. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were starting to care about the girl."

Elijah didn't respond, but his silence was answer enough.

The night stretched out before them, cool and crisp, the kind of early spring air that still held the remnants of winter's bite. The streets of Chicago were alive but subdued, the hum of distant traffic blending with the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby bar. A soft breeze rustled through the trees lining the sidewalk, their budding leaves barely catching the glow of the streetlights.

The neighborhood was quiet at this hour, a mix of old brick greystones and newer apartment complexes. It had the kind of charm that had survived gentrification–lived-in but not forgotten, caught between the past and whatever the city decided to become next. The scent of damp pavement lingered from an earlier drizzle, mixing with the faint aroma of coffee from the café down the block, still open despite the hour.

Elijah exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting over the familiar yet unfamiliar landscape. Chicago wasn't like New Orleans. It lacked the weight of centuries pressing down on its bones, the thick air of history and magic interwoven into its foundation. But there was something here–something shifting, something waiting.

Klaus, ever restless, rocked back on his heels before stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Well, brother, shall we call it a night? Or are you planning to stand here brooding until dawn?"

Elijah cast him a sidelong glance but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he adjusted his cuffs, ever meticulous. "For now, we give her space. But she won't be able to ignore this forever."

Klaus grinned, his expression knowing. "No, she won't." He took a step forward, then paused, glancing up at the second floor apartment window where they'd just been. "And when she's ready, we'll be there."

Elijah didn't answer, only followed his brother's gaze for a moment longer before stepping off the curb, disappearing into the night.

--

The apartment felt different once the Mikaelsons were gone–quieter, but not in a comforting way. Their presence still lingered like static in the air, unsettling, like a storm that had passed but left the sky heavy with the promise of more.

Liza stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the door as if half-expecting them to barge back in. When they didn't, she finally exhaled and turned to Ollie, who was pacing nearby, running a hand through her dark waves of hair.

"Well," Ollie muttered, voice tight with lingering frustration. "That was fun."

Liza snorted, but there wasn't any humor in it. She dragged a hand down her face, then collapsed onto the couch, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Ramses padded over and rested his head on her thigh, sensing the shift in her mood.

"I had a dream," Liza murmured after a long silence, her fingers brushing absently through Ramses' fur. "A weird one."

Ollie shot her a dry look. "You? Weird dreams? Shocking."

Liza rolled her eyes but didn't bite back. Not this time. Instead, she pressed her lips together, debating whether to say it at all–but hell, everything else had already gone off the rails. What was one more thing?

"I was… baptizing them."

Ollie blinked. "I'm sorry. What?"

"The Mikaelsons," Liza clarified, her voice sounding strange even to her own ears. "In Lake Michigan. I was standing in the water, and they were kneeling, and once the sun came up, they weren't vampires anymore."

Ollie just stared at her. "Okay. Nope. That's–" She ran a hand over her face. "I don't even know what to do with that."

Liza leaned back, rubbing her arms as if she were cold. "There was a girl, too. Blonde. I think it was their sister."

Ollie scoffed. "Of course they have a sister. Jesus, how many of these assholes are running around?"

Liza shrugged, absently scratching behind Ramses' ear as he pressed his weight against her. "I don't know. But she was there. She looked… desperate. Like this was the only thing she'd ever wanted."

Ollie finally sat down, stretching her legs out on the coffee table and exhaling like she'd just run a marathon. "So let me get this straight. You had a dream where you–what, washed away their sins? Turned them human again?" She gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "Yeah, that's totally normal."

Liza shot her a glare. "I'm not saying it means anything. It's just–" She hesitated, her fingers stilling on Ramses' fur. "It felt real. More than a dream."

Ollie's expression softened, but only slightly. "Like a vision?"

Liza shifted uncomfortably. "I don't get visions."

"You shattered a lightbulb by accident tonight, Liza," Ollie pointed out. "Maybe it's time to stop saying what you don't do."

Liza sighed, looking down at Ramses, who let out a quiet huff and nudged her hand with his snout. He was always more sensitive to her moods than she was. "I don't know what to do with any of this."

Ollie rubbed her temple, shaking her head. "I mean, if this is real–if–then what? What does that even mean for you?"

Liza swallowed, her chest tightening. "I don't know. And I don't want to know."

Ollie's voice softened just a little. "You think this has something to do with what Benny–what your grandma–said?"

Liza flinched, because yeah, that was exactly what she was afraid of. That this wasn't just some subconscious fever dream. That this was the start of something she couldn't run from.

Ramses let out a small, contented growl as he leaned into her, his warmth grounding her.

Ollie watched her closely. "Okay," she said finally. "You don't have to figure it out tonight. But Liza…" She sighed, rubbing her hands together. "Those two aren't going anywhere. And if they think you're the key to something, they're gonna keep showing up."

Liza pressed her lips together. "I know."

"And if they're right?" Ollie asked, her voice quieter. "If you are the key?"

Liza didn't answer right away. She just curled her fingers into Ramses' fur, staring at nothing. Finally, she murmured, "Then I'm really fucked."

--

Liza lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the quiet pressing in around her. The city buzzed faintly beyond the window, but it felt distant, muted. Even Ramses, curled at her feet, was still, his rhythmic breathing and light snoring the only real sound in the room. She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand on her face before reaching for the orange bottle on her nightstand. The label was half-peeled, the familiar name Alprazolam printed in small, clinical letters. Her fingers worked the cap off with practiced ease, shaking a single pill into her palm. Maybe tonight, she'd actually sleep. Maybe she wouldn't dream.

She swallowed it dry, letting her head sink into the pillow. Ramses let out a quiet huff, shifting closer to her side, his warmth grounding. She scratched behind his ears absently.

"Maybe it'll work this time," she muttered, more to herself than him.

Her eyelids grew heavy, the tension in her limbs slowly ebbing. The world blurred at the edges, soft and distant. Maybe–

The dream started out fine.

Benny was in LA, exactly where he was supposed to be.

The city was bright, even at night, bathed in the golden glow of streetlights and neon, silhouetting palm trees and distant hills beyond. He stood outside a sleek, glass-fronted building, his name glowing in soft white letters above the entrance:

BENJAMIN HENRY PSYCHIC MEDIUM CLAIRVOYANT TO THE STARS

A marquee scrolled below it, listing upcoming live sessions. SOLD OUT. SOLD OUT. SOLD OUT.

Benny was talking to someone on his phone, one hand gesturing as he paced, the other clutching a half-finished iced coffee. He looked the way he always did–meticulously styled, every piece of clothing carefully curated to make him seem both approachable and ethereal. His red hair was neatly tousled, his blue eyes bright with that anxious, nervous energy he carried with him everywhere. He was young, successful, and still so unsure of himself.

Liza watched from a distance, unseen, tethered to the dream as an observer.

Benny exhaled sharply, rubbing at his temple. "No, I told them I can't do another reading tonight. I'm wiped. You saw what happened earlier–" He broke off, glancing around the empty sidewalk. His posture stiffened, his free hand tightening around his cup. "...Hello?"

The air shifted. Liza felt it even though she wasn't physically there. The dry warmth of Los Angeles trembled, as if something was coming. The lights from his name flickered.

Liza felt her stomach drop.

Benny turned, scanning the street, his breath coming quicker now. He wasn't new to sensing things others couldn't. It was his gift, after all. But this was different. His eyes darted toward the alley beside the building, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for something–anything–that might ground him.

Then came the movement. Fast. Too fast. A shadow peeled away from the darkness.

Benny barely had time to react. A blur of motion, and something pulled him back. His phone hit the pavement with a dull crack.

Liza's heart roared in her ears. She tried to move, to call out, but she was frozen in place. She could not speak, make a single sound. Like in those nightmares where your voice is unexplainably gone. She could only watch as Benny thrashed on the ground in the shadows of the alley, his breath hitching into a strangled gasp.

The figure holding him was...wrong. Hunched, hooded, just black. Not quite visible, shifting at the edges, blending seamlessly with the dark. But there was something–teeth flashing in a cruel grin, pale fingers tightening, Benny's struggling limbs going abruptly, sickeningly still. Then the blood. Dark and seeping, pooling across the concrete.

Liza tried to scream, but no sound came out. A voice–low, amused–curled around her like a breeze.

You always were too late.

The figure turned. She saw–

Liza shot up in bed, gasping. The room was dark. Too dark.

Ramses was already up, ears pricked, his body tense. He let out a low, wary growl, staring toward the door. Liza's heartbeat was erratic, her breath uneven. The thundering under her ribs was almost painful as she put a hand over her chest. Her hands were clammy, freezing.

It was just a dream. A product of some morbid screenplay produced by a frazzled, already traumatized mind.

--
Liza was exhausted. She barely remembered falling asleep again after the nightmare, and when she did, it had been restless–just glimpses of shadowed figures and the dull gleam of blood pooling on pavement. The morning light didn't help. It only made the heavy fatigue settle deeper into her bones. She shuffled into the kitchen, her hair messy, her eyes still laced with sleep. Ollie was already dressed, her tumbler of coffee in hand, the scent of the medium roast thick in the air.

"I made extra oatmeal," she said casually, nodding toward the bowl on the kitchen table. "And avocado toast."

Liza blinked at it, vaguely registering the food before glancing at Ramses, who was lounging on the couch, freshly walked and looking too content for how drained she felt.

"You walked him?"

Ollie took a sip of coffee, nodding. "Yeah. You looked like you needed sleep. Figured I'd let you."

Liza sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Thanks."

Ollie studied her for a beat, then shook her head. "Take it easy today, okay?"

"Yeah." It wasn't a promise, just something to say.

She watched Ollie leave, the door clicking shut behind her. Ramses flicked his tail, letting out a small huff, and Liza sank into the chair at the table. Her eyes landed on the small, neat card beside her breakfast. Elijah Mikaelson. A phone number beneath it. She picked it up, running her thumb along the edge before setting it back down. Not a chance in hell.

--

For the first few hours at work, she was fine. Her mind stayed occupied, moving through tasks of selling tea and restocking blends on autopilot, letting the routine pull her away from the lingering unease that clung to her from the dream. She liked her job. She liked tea. She wasn't selling vacuums. The job was simple, repetitive, predictable–the opposite of whatever the hell her life had become in the past few days.

Then, during her fifteen break, which she took in the back room of the tea shop, she made the mistake of opening TikTok.

Her thumb scrolled absently, past influencer drama, past a trending dance challenge, past–

BREAKING: Celebrity Medium Benjamin Henry Found Dead in Los Angeles. Fans Devastated.

Liza stopped breathing. Her fingers hovered over the screen, the blood draining from her face. It took her a second to click the video, to let the words sink in. Her stomach twisted. No. No, no, no. She knew before she even watched. Before she heard the reporter's voice, before she saw the images of the taped-off street, the flickering marquee with his name still glowing above the crime scene. The dream wasn't just a dream. Benny was dead.

Liza's pulse pounded in her ears, ice in her veins, as she stared at her phone screen, the words on the news article blurring in and out of focus through glazed eyes.

BENJAMIN HENRY, CELEBRITY PSYCHIC, FOUND DEAD IN LOS ANGELES HOTEL ROOM.

Her stomach twisted, nausea creeping up her constricting throat. She blinked hard, forcing herself to breathe.

Liza: Ollie. Call me. Now.

She hit send, watching the little "delivered" status appear. No reply. When Ollie was busy wrangling young werewolf children around the daycare, she didn't answer her phone. She didn't even take social media breaks. Fuck.

The tea shop buzzed softly outside the backroom–low conversations, the gentle clink of ceramic, the scent of bergamot and jasmine steeping behind the counter in an electric glass kettle. But Liza felt detached from it, like she was floating outside her own body. She needed air.

Tucking her phone into her pocket, she grabbed her pack of cigarettes from her bag, her jacket. and slipped out the back of the shop, stepping into the narrow alley. The crisp Chicago air bit at her face, but she barely felt it. The first inhale burned her throat, grounding her–marginally. Her nostrils flared from the smoke. Her fingers still trembled as she pulled out her phone again. Then the cream-colored business card from her jacket pocket.

She shouldn't. She had no reason to. And yet–

Her fingers typed before she second-guessed herself, as she bit the cigarette between her teeth, holding it there.

Liza: I had a dream last night.

She hesitated for only a second before adding–

It was about Benny. I think I saw what happened to him.

She hit send before she could overthink it.

Elijah's reply came almost instantly–less than a minute later. Shockingly. Or, perhaps not.

Elijah: Tell me everything.

--

The city was restless. Chicago was a thing of movement–lights blinking, reflecting, taxis weaving through the streets, the distant clang of the L-train overhead. A cold spring breeze carried the scent of damp pavement, exhaust, and the lingering sweetness of something fried from a food cart down the block.

Elijah walked beside Liza, the click of her boots contrasting his quieter, measured steps. She had barely spoken since they left the tea shop, her shoulders tight, her expression unreadable. She'd only nodded when he murmured, "It's handled," after compelling her manager to let her leave work early. And she had let Elijah. No protest. No fight. Just acceptance.

Now, as they neared a coffee shop, she exhaled a lungful of air, like she was trying to shake off the weight of boulders. She stepped ahead of him, her green leather jacket making a crinkling sound as her arms brushed her sides, its fitted cut hugging her frame over a simple black tee. Dark jeans, scuffed ankle boots, her nails painted a chipped, deep red–a little unpolished, a little guarded.

She pushed open the door, the warmth of the café spilling out onto the street, the scent of roasted espresso and fresh pastries filling the air. Elijah followed, his presence steady, deliberate. Like he had all the time in the world. Liza didn't linger inside once they got their coffees. She moved through the café like a snake, dodging the crowded tables and heading straight for the patio. Outside, under the faint shadow, she slid into a seat beneath the awning, one hand tucking between her knees.

Elijah joined her, pulling out the opposite chair with an effortless grace. He took his time settling in, watching her as she stared at the table, then the street, then anywhere but him. He took off the lid of his steaming coffee–which was black and full-bodied–but he didn't drink it yet.

She tore a sugar packet in half, folding and unfolding the paper between her fingers but never using it. The silence stretched. Then, finally–her voice. Flat. Quiet. A little frayed at the edges. "I saw it before it happened."

The streetlamp overhead flickered. A bus rumbled past, sending a gust of wind through the patio.

Elijah studied her, his expression unreadable. "Tell me everything."

Liza exhaled sharply, pressing her thumb against the torn sugar packet, feeling the grainy remnants stick to her skin.

"He wasn't at home," she said, voice quieter than she intended. "He was outside some building–his production company, I think. There was a marquee with his name on it, all lit up. 'Benjamin Henry: Clairvoyant to the Stars.'" She let out a humorless breath, finally wrapping her hand around her coffee, which was hot even through the cardboard sleeve. "Guess that title didn't do him much good."

Elijah didn't react, made no move to respond, just kept listening.

"He was pacing, nervous. Kept checking his phone, like he was waiting for something–someone. And then… there was this shadow, just past the lights." She shook her head, jaw tight, lips pressed together. "I couldn't see them, but I knew they were watching him. I knew they were going to kill him."

She swallowed, finally meeting Elijah's dark, narrowed gaze. "And I saw it before it happened. But I didn't understand it in time."

Elijah leaned back slightly in his chair. He absorbed every detail, every inflection in her tone–the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped her drink.

"This is important," he offered, his words gentle but firm. "Seeing the future, however vague, is a power most witches never possess, not like this. And you aren't just any witch, are you?" His eyes held hers, unwavering. "You're tied to a power that has roots we barely understand."

But Liza looked away again, her lips together tightly once more. She didn't even want to respond to those words.

He shifted forward. "Tell me about the shadow. What else did you see?"

Liza shrugged, fear flashing across her face, and guilt. She furrowed her brows, frowning. "I don't–I don't know. Teeth. Like a grin. Hands, fingers, maybe they were choking Benny out. But there was blood. As much as there is on the news about it all. I-I think it was a man."

Deciding to light a cigarette, she took her pack out of her purse. Only her hands shook, holding the cigarette. Even worse, she couldn't light the damn thing. The flame kept going out in the breeze. Elijah caught her tremor. The wind seemed to play games with her lighter, teasing her attempts at flicking the spark wheel.

"Let me," he offered, barely above a murmur. He reached across, placing his hands around hers, steadying the lighter. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his skin cool against her tense fingers.

Liz had not expected the help, and though she shouldn't have been surprised by the gentlemanly gesture, she was. Her eyebrows rose slightly. There was a flicker, then a flame. The cigarette caught, the tip glowing bright.

His gaze darted up to meet hers briefly, then he released her, shifting back. "Continue. Tell me more about this shadow." He had a drink of his hot coffee, the temperature not bothering him.

Liza's had breath caught a little, her heartbeat skipping. Elijah heard it, certainly, but showed no sign. She inhaled deeply and exhaled the smoke to the side of her. "That's it–Oh, no... it's not." She grimaced, looking away, that fear on her face growing.

Elijah's eyes narrowed again, registering every tiny shift in her expression.

She visibly shuddered as she remembered the voice. She didn't want to. From her dream. "I heard... I think I heard a voice say, You always were too late. I don't know whose. Man or woman's. I just-I just heard it. Then I woke up."

He watched. The words hung in the air–a cryptic message whispered by a faceless specter, a foreboding that seemed to claw at her consciousness.

"Too late..." he pondered, his tone thoughtful. "A warning, perhaps. Or a taunt."

He leaned forward again, forearms resting on the table. "Liza, these abilities–they're not just about seeing the past or predicting the future." He paused, ensuring his statement landed. "They're about seeing things that others can't."

Liza was silent, not liking the heaviness of this truth. She finally took a sip of her own coffee.

Elijah's intense focus on her didn't falter even as he had another sip of his drink. "Your ability," he began, his voice low, almost a whisper, "could be a powerful tool–in the right hands. In the wrong ones, it's a vulnerability. You're tapping into something profound. Something ancient."

She didn't argue with him. She knew prophetic dreams didn't surface in many witches, especially not ones this coincidentally timed. She exhaled a shaky breath of smoke.

He paused again, letting his conclusion hang in the air, its weight settling between them. "You're more connected than you realize, to your magic, to your grandmother, to a world that coexists with my own. It's a path you've ignored, but it's been calling you."

Liza sighed, inhaling another puff from the cigarette. "What about Benny?" she asked instead, her voice rising in pitch, desperate. "I-I saw what happened to him... I couldn't do anything. To-to stop it. What do we do now? Are you going to do anything?"

Elijah breathed out slowly, his eyes drifting toward the blur of the city–honking cars, hurried footsteps, the ceaseless movement of people unaware of the storm brewing just beneath the surface. When he finally spoke, he was calm but certain.

"Benjamin Henry was gifted, but he was naive. He ventured into a world few understand, and now, he is gone." He looked back at Liza then, his expression softer but no less serious. "But you must not burden yourself with guilt. There was nothing you could have done."

Liza flicked the ash from her cigarette, watching the embers fall, her frown deepening.

Elijah studied her carefully before continuing. "There is a reason you saw Benny die in your dream. His death, your grandmother's spirit coming through to him, his message to my family–it's too deliberate to be coincidence." He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice further, only for her ears. "It was never just a dream, Liza. It was a harbinger."

She swallowed hard, eyes wide. "A harbinger?"

"A warning," he clarified. "We cannot ignore this. Benny's death could be an unfortunate consequence of his abilities, or it could be part of something much larger." His expression was steady, unyielding, carrying with it a determination that left no room for doubt. "We have to find out what Benny was involved in and why it cost him his life."

Liza took a quick drag, then let it out sharply. She felt her face grow cold, goosebumps rolling down her skin under her clothes. She shifted uneasily in her chair. "Who else knew Benny spoke to my grandmother? Besides you and Klaus? Did anyone else know?" Her line of thinking was clear: did someone bad find out, and that's why Benny died?
Elijah's expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker in his eyes that she couldn't quite read. He had a tendency to be blunt, and now he realized he might've been too much so. He frowned a little, feeling bad for her uptick of fear.

"I can't answer that for certain," he admitted, "but it's clear that your grandmother's message isn't merely a family matter. It's bigger. Much bigger."

"Fuck," Liza murmured, staring at her coffee.

His frown deepened. "The question isn't who knew," he stated gently, "it's who will want to know. Your abilities, they're invaluable. A power like yours could attract." His jaw tightened nevertheless. "And not all of it benign."

Holding her cigarette to the side, she leaned toward him, whispering. "Listen, I haven't attracted anyone's attention. I haven't used my magic in a long time. I don't even affiliate myself with the Slavic Coven here. I don't get their newsletters. Okay? No one knows about me, not really." Her eyes were wide once more, insistent.

He shifted slightly now, from her sudden intensity, gripping his cup. Her fear was as pungent as the perfume she wore–vanilla and sandalwood. Her heartbeat was starting to drown out the noises around them, the voices of other customers.

"Who else is going to want to know about my grandma's message about your family?" she asked. "Other vampires, maybe?"

"It's not just vampires," he replied. "Witches. Werewolves. Any supernatural entity that sees your abilities as a threat or advantage–they'd seek you out."

His eyes held hers, unwavering. "Your grandmother reached out to us for a reason. Whatever power she believed you held, whatever role you could play, it's beyond just my family."

"I really think you're overestimating my power," she insisted, raising her hand as is if to stall him. Seeing her cigarette needed flicking, she tapped it so its ash would fall to the ground.

Before he could speak, she went on, trying to keep her voice steady. "I think it's just about your family." The words rushed out from her mouth. "Okay? I had a dream. I had a dream about you, Klaus, and Rebekah. After you saved me from those assholes–that night."

Elijah's eyes grew imperceptibly at Liza's revelation. She dreamt of him, Klaus, and Rebekah? That was... significant.

He leaned forward, his focus intensifying. "What did you see? In this dream?"

The fact that she'd dreamt of him and his siblings suggested a deeper, more personal connection than he'd initially realized. He remained composed, however, there was a keen interest in his expression.

Liza took a slow, deliberate drag from her cigarette, exhaling as she tried to find the words. Her fingers trembled a bit, whether from the spring chill or from the weight of what she was about to say, she wasn't sure. Probably both.

"It was… weird. It didn't feel like a normal dream." She tilted in her seat, rubbing her thumb over the rim of her cup's top. "I was standing on the beach–at the Lake. It was dark, but the water was warm. You, Klaus, and a blonde girl–Rebekah, your sister–were there. You were in the water like you were expecting me."

Elijah hardly blinked, riveted.

She hesitated, her throat dry, had to look away at a stain on the patio floor. "And I–I don't know–I put my hands on you, one by one. Like some kind of baptism." The word felt strange on her tongue, alien, almost. She glanced up at Elijah, then, searching for any flicker of change in his expression. He hardly moved a facial muscle. "I-I pressed you under the water, but you weren't fighting me. You just… let it happen. And when you came back up, the sun was rising. And you were different. I don't think... you were vampires anymore."

She heard Elijah's breath hitch, barely, but she heard it. His coffee was all but forgotten.

She shook her head, exhaling sharply. "I don't know what it means, but it felt real. Like I was supposed to see it."

Elijah had absorbed every detail, the significance of Liza's dream clear to him. It wasn't just a dream–it was a message, a vision of a potential future. If it weren't for her seeing Benny die, he might've believed otherwise.

He remained silent for a moment, pondering. "What you saw," he began, when he found his own voice, "could be more than just a dream. It might be a glimpse of… destiny." And he had always refused to believe in such a thing.

As she furrowed her brows, his eyes captured hers once more. "You're pivotal, Liza, whether you want to believe it or not."

She dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and snuffed it with her boot, glancing away, unable to look at him. "I'm supposed to, what, make you guys human again?" she hissed, and then looked around at the street around them. As if someone could hear them. But the other people who sat at tables paid no attention, as if they were some sort of non-playing characters.
Elijah's gaze bore into her. "To be human again.." he licked his lips, "is a dream I've held onto for centuries. Your grandmother–Valeria," he paused, "I believe she thought you held the key to our… redemption. Your abilities, your lineage–everything leads to you."

Liza made a small noise in her throat, her stomach clenching. She didn't want everything to lead to her.

He sighed, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders. "Your dream, while not a promise, indicates a possibility. We must tread carefully, Liza. This path we're on, it's not without its dangers."

She felt dizzy from anxiety. She rummaged into her purse and discreetly took out an orange pill bottle of her Xanax, shook one out. She swallowed it with a sip of coffee.

Then she scoffed, shaking her head as she capped the pill bottle and shoved it back into her bag. "You keep saying things like 'redemption' and 'destiny' like I'm supposed to just accept this." She rubbed her temple, her fingers pressing hard against her skin. Her nails left faint marks. "Even if this dream means something, even if my grandma thought I had some role in your… whatever this is, I don't know how I could actually do it."

Her trepidation was sharp in the air, made his nostrils flare slightly. And his chest clenched with sympathy.

Her voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. "You want me to believe that I can just–what? Undo a thousand years of vampirism with my hands? Like I'm some divine cure?" She let out a short, humorless laugh. "That's insane."

Elijah watched her movements with quiet resignation. Her disbelief was palpable, but he couldn't let the moment pass without addressing the heart of the matter.

"Liza," he said, gentle. "Your doubt may be the only thing preventing you from reaching your potential." He leaned forward an intensity in his gaze that was impossible to ignore. "You have the legacy of a powerful witch running through your veins. Your abilities may seem distant, but they're very real." There was a hint of desperation in his words, desperation born of hope.

Liza heard it and hesitated, not answering right away. "So-so," she picked up her coffee cup and tried to focus on it but didn't drink, "I make you human, somehow. Then what? What happens?"
Elijah's attention drifted towards the bustling street, watching the passing vehicles and pedestrians. "Reuniting with our humanity..." he wondered out loud, thoughtful, wistful, "would be a chance at a second existence. A life where our existence isn't defined by... immortality, and the price that comes with it." Blood. Bloodlust. He obviously meant that.

Liza drew her brows. She was surprised by the revelation. He would actually consider becoming human, if, by some ridiculous chance it was possible?

His attention snapped back to Liza, then. "After being vampires for a millennium, there's much change in the world that we've yet to experience. It would be a new beginning. An opportunity. We could live... without fear of the sun, vervain, or the constant struggle of maintaining secrecy." Needing to feed.

Liza sat waiting for the effects of the Xanax to kick in sometime soon... She exhaled slowly.

"Can we just keep it between us? Your family, me, Ollie? No one has to know. No one should come after me then." She was fucking terrified. She didn't want to fathom someone, witches, vampires, or werewolves coming after her. She momentarily forgot that whoever killed Benny might've already known, too, about all of this.

Elijah studied Liza. She was grappling not just with the possibility of her power, but with the harsh reality of the world she'd been inadvertently dragged into.

"Knowledge is power, but it's also a liability," he said finally. "Keeping this close to the vest will buy us time. It may be wise to limit those who are in our confidence." He reached across the table, his hand brushing against hers in a gesture meant to reassure. "You're not alone in this, Liza. We'll find a way through it, together. You, me, Klaus, and our sister."

Liza had frozen at his touch and stared at his hand, forgetting to form words for a beat. "I... you forgot Ollie. She's my best friend. She has to be included. But she won't tell her pack. I know she won't."
Elijah gently squeezed her hand before pulling back, respecting her personal space. "Of course. I apologize. Ollie's discretion is appreciated."

He hesitated for a second, choosing his words carefully. "Liza, we're on the verge of something significant. It's not just about our redemption; it's about the balance of our world. Your role in this–it's important, vital even. But I won't lie to you: the path ahead is fraught with challenges."

She swallowed. She had the urge to light another cigarette, but that would be chainsmoking, and she could very well fall into it.

He leaned back, his gaze searching face, which didn't hide any emotion. "Are you willing to see where the path leads?"

"I… don't know," she said, unable to lie or force herself to say yes. "What about your siblings? Can I trust them?"

Elijah's response was firm yet layered with sincerity. "Klaus... can be unpredictable. But trust me when I say that I will do everything in my power to protect you. I've held him in check for centuries, and this is no different."

Hearing that–protect her–how sincere he sounded… Liza found herself believing him, starting to, at least.

He paused, before continuing, "And Rebekah? She might have her own way of showing it, but she is someone who cares deeply. Our experiences have forged a bond that goes beyond blood. You're under our protection."

Again that word. Liza swallowed as it had a strange affect on her, like a shiver, but not one from unease.

A hint of a smile graced his lips. "And that's a promise I take very seriously."

Liza couldn't deny that Klaus unnerved her. He had said he liked being what he was. Rebekah was currently an unknown. She had yet to meet her.

She still gripped her coffee. "Okay," she conceded softly, meeting his dark gaze with her lighter brown one. "But you'll have to convince Ollie. You might've saved me from those guys, and I... trust you, for now. But, she's not convinced yet."

Elijah nodded gently, acknowledging her reservations. "I understand. I shall speak with Ollie. We need to ensure a united front–a team that's in lockstep with where we're headed."

It felt too early for him to say that, but Liza decided not to speak up. She was still processing everything. She didn't even taste her coffee as she sipped it, the movement automatic.

His gaze softened, knowing the weight of what he was asking. "For now, it's best you're cautious. If you feel threatened, reach out. I'll come for you."

Again that shiver. Besides Ollie, no one else really ever said that sort of thing to her, offered protection. In their supernatural world.

A small, seemingly perceptive smile played on his lips before he began to stand. Finally remembering his own coffee, he picked it up. "You and I should be going. Let me see you home."

Liza hesitated for a moment, then let out a slow breath and stood as well, pulling her green leather jacket tighter around herself. The evening air had cooled further, the warmth of the coffee in her hands the only thing keeping her fingers from stiffening.

She didn't like this–any of this. The weight of what Elijah was asking her to accept, to step into, was crushing. And yet, she still wasn't tell him no.

"Fine," she murmured, adjusting the strap of her purse over her shoulder. "But no more surprises, okay? If something else comes up, I need to know about it." She gave him a pointed look, as if daring him to withhold anything. "I don't like being blindsided."

Elijah dipped his head in acknowledgment. "You have my word."

She snorted, a defensive mechanism. "Okay." There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but it was less biting than before.

They stepped out from under the awning, the sounds of the city washing over them–horns blaring, the chatter of people passing by, the distant rumble of the train overhead. It grounded her a bit, reminded her that, despite everything, the world was still the same as it had been this morning.

As they started walking, their footsteps in sync on the damp pavement, Liza stole a glance at Elijah. "I can get home by myself, you know."

He matched her pace, his stride steady and deliberate. "I'm aware. However, after the recent events, I thought it would be prudent to see you safely home."

She tried not to let his offer affect her, but it did. She hadn't had a man see her home in a while. A man in any capacity.

He cast a surreptitious gaze towards their surroundings, keenly aware of every shadow and stranger on the busy street. His senses, finely tuned over centuries, were always alert to potential threats. In his mind, there was no room for negligence, especially now that Liza was involved in matters far beyond the ordinary.

"A precaution, nothing more," he assured her, his tone steady and cool.

Liza rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She wasn't in the mood to fight him on something as simple as a walk home. Besides, the city in the growing evening was different–harsher, quieter in a way that made every distant siren and muffled conversation stand out. It did made her uneasy.

She took a sip of her coffee as they crossed the street, avoiding a puddle near the curb. "I don't suppose… I can convince you to go away once we get there?"

Elijah smirked, one hand in his pocket. "I'll leave when I'm satisfied that you've arrived safely."

She let out a sharp exhale, tilting her head back to look up at the cloudy sky. "You're persistent," she muttered, but she hid a smirk.

"A necessary trait," Elijah replied smoothly. "Especially when dealing with someone as reluctant as you."

Liza glanced at him, catching the ghost of amusement in his expression. She hated that it almost made her smile wider. Instead, she focused ahead, the rhythmic tapping of her boots against the sidewalk grounding her. Ramses was going to be ecstatic when she got home. That thought alone gave her something to hold onto. Something normal. Elijah might have forced his way into her life, but that didn't mean she had to let him take up space in her mind. At least, that's what she told herself.

The towering skyscrapers loomed above them, their glass facades reflecting the shifting gray sky, fragments of dull light dancing across their surfaces. A cold wind funneled through the streets, carrying the scent of rain-soaked pavement, exhaust, and the lingering stench of piled garbage in an alley they passed. Chicago was alive—relentless, unyielding—a city built on reinvention and survival. It reminded Elijah of Liza in that way, the quiet resilience beneath her uncertainty. Seeing the stubborn set of her jaw, he held back a sigh. The road ahead was long, and they both had their parts to play.

"I know this is overwhelming," he said, softly. "But remember, you're not alone in this."
Liza huffed, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. "I did only recently meet you."

Elijah's lips quirked in the faintest hint of amusement, but he didn't respond. Instead, he followed her lead as they turned the corner. The stairwell leading up to the L platform was slick from earlier rain, the scent of wet metal and ozone lingering in the air.

She hesitated at the base of the stairs, glancing at him. "You're really doing this?"

Elijah arched a brow. "You assumed I wouldn't?"

Liza exhaled and started up the steps, boots clanking against metal. He followed without hesitation, his footsteps lighter, like he was walking on air.

The platform was half-full, scattered people waiting for the next train, the fluorescence of overhead lights harsh even in the overcast day. Liza leaned against a column, arms crossed, her eyes skimming the tracks below. Elijah stood beside her, one hand still in his pocket, his presence unwavering but unobtrusive.

A moment passed before she spoke again. "I don't know what you expect me to do, Elijah."

"We will figure it out," he replied smoothly. "But I do have hope."

She scoffed but didn't press further. The arriving train rumbled in the distance on the above ground tracks. As it pulled into the station, a gust of wind rushed past them, carrying the scent of city grime. The doors slid open with a hiss, and without another word, Liza stepped inside.

Elijah followed, like a sentinel.