As the sun began to rise on the horizon, a black Mercedes van pulled up to the end of the forest path. The driver and the crew stepped out, making way for Lucien Castel and his two hostages.
Dressed in black, Lucien made no attempt to hide his happy, arrogant smile as he got out of the van, his gaze wandering through the forest. He was exactly where he should be, and it was now a matter of mere minutes before he gained what he had always dreamed of for himself. The power to punish those who wronged and harmed him.
He sighed deeply and took the white oak bullet out of his jacket pocket with a devilish smile.
"A Mikaelson witch, a white oak bullet... Throw in a dash of wolf venom and a case of champagne, and I'd say we have a recipe for some real fun!" He said to no one in particular.
Freya Mikaelson, visibly exhausted, her makeup smeared on her face, had been forced to step out next; her hands were bound tightly together with wires. Her eyes dart around the forest, trying to assess the situation.
Vincent Griffith followed through, and while he bore no obvious signs of abuse or restraint, it was clear from his constricted features that he was not there of his own free will.
Lucien ordered the van crew to wait where they were and grabbed Freya by the arm, forcing her to walk. The witch was clearly exhausted as her legs buckled with each step.
Earlier in his penthouse, Lucien's minions administered a powerful sedative to Freya while Vincent, under the orders of the ancestors, temporarily blocked the witch's power with a powerful spell.
"Man looked out," Vincent said as he watched Freya's body lean forward, barely able to keep up with Lucien's brisk pace. Despite her weakened state and her disorientation, Freya was clearly not impressed with the situation.
"After all that flirtation... this is your idea of a first date?" She asked with a sarcastic tone, trying to mask her fear and vulnerability. Lucien chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You Mikaelsons always with that arrogant tone, thinking you're untouchable. It's quite entertaining, really. Think of it as a date with destiny, love. Though, I admit, three is a crowd. Vincent is a necessary evil, I'm afraid—here to keep you in check should you misbehave."
Vincent held his hands in the air and protested angrily. "Yeah, you're leaving out the part where I ain't exactly here of my own volition, man. The Ancestors must have lost their damn minds!"
"Quite the opposite! I've never dealt with a saner bunch." Lucien replied with a smile. "See, when I arrived in New Orleans, I made them a deal. Upon my request, they would grant me access to the Regent, and, in exchange, I'd provide for them a world without the Originals."
Freya's eyes widened in disbelief, and Vincent shook his head in astonishment. "You really expect us to believe that the Ancestors agreed to that?" he asked as he began to grasp the gravity of their current situation.
The ancient vampire gave Vincent an amused look and sighed theatrically, "Oh, but of course it didn't take much convincing. They do despise her family." He said, offering Freya a sympathetic smile. "Now, if you please, let's quicken our pace a little."
The three paused in a sunlit clearing. At the heart of the lush greenery stood a sizable rock, atop which rested a hefty stone mortar.
Lucien gazed at the solid formation, a gasp of approval slipping from him. "Ah... We're here," he remarked.
Vincent scanned the surroundings, his confusion evident. "Yeah, but where the hell is "here," man?" he replied, irritation creeping into his voice.
"What...?" Lucien gasped in shock and gave them both disapproving looks.
"How disappointing! Two powerful witches who cannot sense when you're treading on hallowed ground?"
It took a minute for both witches to realize what Lucien was talking about.
"Mystic Falls," Freya said with a frown as Lucien gestured around them with a satisfied smile.
"The place where it all began. Where Esther Mikaelson created the vampire species. And where your family's history is rooted. Under the shade of the infamous white oak tree, she crafted the spell that turned each of her children... And I mean to replicate that spell. I have everything I need to become what I deserve to be."
"You want to become an Original," Vincent declared, smirking.
But Lucien's scoff freezes the witch's blood.
"Do I look like the sort who'd settle for some shoddy Original model? I intend to be an upgrade."
The blond witch glared at Lucien, horrified. "You're insane to think I'd ever help you craft any spell."
Lucien chuckled with delight; it was clear that her fear and her fighting spirit only intensified his thrill.
"Oh, no, no, no, Freya. You misunderstand me, dear. Vincent will handle the spell," said Lucien, violently shoving Vincent towards the stone altar. "From you..." He looked at her with feigned sympathy and brushed a lock of hair away from her face. "...I need something a bit more intimate." Without any further explanation, he plunged his fangs into Freya's wrist as hard as he could, causing the blond to shriek in pain.
Meanwhile, close to Mystic Falls.
Elijah and Finn landed at a secluded private airstrip. A sleek black Porsche, its engine already purring, awaited their arrival. Elijah slid into the driver's seat while Finn settled in beside him. In silence, the head of the Mikaelson family turned the ignition and pressed down on the accelerator, racing away from the vacant warehouse.
In just a matter of minutes on the road, they drove past the sign that read "Welcome to Mystic Falls, Est. 1860" as they entered the town. None of them felt thrilled about returning to their hometown, particularly as they had to pause at a railroad crossing and wait for a train to roll by. Finn couldn't resist making a remark, saying, "Of course, it had to be Mystic Falls. The birthplace of our sorrows. Nothing good ever happens here."
Elijah remained silent, biting his lip as he nervously drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. Deep down, he understood Finn's perspective, yet he had made a conscious decision to avoid the shadows of the past and concentrate on the present mission.
As they finally entered Mystic Falls, Finn asked, "So, are we to drive around this entire pathetic town, hoping to run into my sister before Lucien murders her?"
Elijah briefly shut his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh before he deftly maneuvered the wheel, guiding the vehicle toward the mountains. With an air of calm authority, he replied, "No, Finn. Klaus provided a precise location, so if you're dissatisfied with merely passing through this town, how do you plan to confront the ground where our Mother transformed us into what we have become?
Finn was irritated hearing his little brother's words."Of course Klaus and his ridiculous gambits. He has a plan, and you are faithfully executing it. I can't help but wonder, when did you intend to enlighten me about the thrilling details of our destination?
Elijah rolled his eyes as he commented, "900 years in a box... and zero patience."
Elijah's lackluster expression was nothing new to Finn; he found no discouragement in it.
"It's all a joke to you, isn't it?" Finn challenged, annoyed, "900 years in a box" just rolls off your tongue as if the time passed without consequence. I assure you, it did not."'
"What are you suggesting? We never experienced anything, least of all the passage of time." Elijah said boringly, fueling Finn's anger.
"Well, brother, being daggered for decades and being daggered for centuries are very different things. See, it starts off as a dim pinprick of light, growing brighter year after year, a slow consciousness that I was paralyzed, entombed in my own mind."
Elijah's eyes widened in realization as Finn's admission sunk in. The weight of centuries of isolation and helplessness bore down on him. Realizing that he never considered what being daggered was like for him despite enduring it for nearly a thousand years.
"That despair... utter loneliness... all amplified and made endless," Finn admitted, surprising even himself, as it was the first time he had ever voiced those thoughts.
Elijah was crushed with empathy and guilt, realizing he hadn't grasped the full depth of his brother's pain. He inhaled deeply and gazed at Finn, as if he were truly seeing him for the first time.
"Do you recall the first time we fled together, Finn?" Elijah inquired, nostalgia washing over him as his brother's words stirred the past."We were but children. Nothing but the clothes on our back... A desire we had no idea how to control, and a father hellbent on erasing us from the earth."
"The first of many times we ran together over the next one hundred years. We give a promise to stay together, always and forever, 'til you all left me entombed for nine centuries..." Finn's voice dripped with the bitterness of his siblings' betrayal.
"You were a danger." Elijah sought to rationalize their decisions.
"Danger?" The older Mikaelson scoffed at the absurdity of Elijah's excuse. "Klaus and Kol killed everything that moved, yet I was the one considered too dangerous to undagger?"
The two men locked eyes, each silently daring the other to back down.
"Despite their bloodlust, you were the poison that crippled our family from within." Elijah finally declared
Finn stared at Elijah, not believing what he was hearing.
"This is the excuse you say to yourself so you can sleep at night? To pretend that your betrayal was justified. I was Poison?" He challenged, "I anchored us, brother! It was you—the noble one—that let our family be destroyed from the inside out by betraying me, by betraying your vow to me. I was your family too, Elijah; did you ever consider that?"
"You despised us. You despised yourself, terrified of everything that we became. You threatened our very survival, Finn, just as you have every time we made the mistake of freeing you from that box."
"I was made that way because of that box!" Finn said furiously and then sighed in resignation.
"Every time I close my eyes, I go back to that black horizon, that place where I was abandoned and forgotten by my own family. So yeah, I came out mad. And I remain so."
Elijah's face twitched from the mixed emotions that flooded him. A thousand years ago, he assumed the role of father and protector to his siblings—both younger and older—and a thousand years later, their family was more broken than ever.
Now he had no red door to hide the truth of what Finn claimed. He made a choice between his younger siblings and the older one. To some extent it was justified, but was it for nine hundred years?
He had almost forgotten he had an older brother, almost forgotten that Finn was alive in that dusty coffin in the basement. Perhaps it was convenient for him to have forgotten Finn.
one less witness to his failure to keep them together.
"You ought to be aware of something." His voice came out rough, as if he were stifling a cry that threatened to escape from within. "Lucien found a way to become an upgraded Original, able to kill us."
For a moment, Finn lost it. "The place where Mother cast the spell of immortality... But how?" he wondered aloud.
"I have no definitive answer. It might be the white oak bullet, or maybe it's rooted in science. We knew he crafted a serum from the poison of the seven packs. Klaus' blood is rendered useless against it."
Finn stared, grappling with the information, and then it dawned on him. "What's the reason behind you telling me this?" he questioned.
"In Klaus' vision, you died. Lucien bit you, and you died."
Shock washed over Finn, his eyes glistening with tears he refused to allow to spill. "You're speaking from a place of guilt." He concluded, "Did you actually intend to let me walk to my own death, knowing nothing, brother?"
"No, it was not my intention, brother. It's just that... I'm not sure if we should trust Klaus's vision, and Phemonoe; she might have her own agenda... The truth is, the thought of Lucien outmatching us in power is a formidable prospect." He half-heartedly admitted, looking down at his fists as he clenched them harder around the wheel.
"I'm okay with dying, brother, if that means I can keep Freya alive." Finn declared calmly, "So what is the plan?"
"No one has to die," Elijah said sharply. "Under the circumstances, we are not to clash with Lucien. The plan is to grab Freya and get far away as fast as possible. If Lucien has taken the serum and we kill him, he automatically wakes up as an upgraded Original. We need to delay this transformation as long as possible."
Finn nodded in agreement, saying, "No glorious deaths today, brother."
Back in the forest, Freya's sobs echoed in the woods as Lucien squeezed her bitten wrists into the stone mortar to extract as much of her blood as possible. Her voice became weaker and weaker, and her skin lost its color more and more.
Vincent, watching the scene without being able to intervene, shouted indignantly. "Okay. Okay, man, that's enough! You're going to kill her."
"Huh. Right, you are. That should just about do it."
The vampire, acting surprised by her weak hold, dropped the witch unceremoniously on the ground, and Vincent ran to her, picked her up, and carried her away.
The Regent of New Orleans cut a piece of his shirt and used it to bandage Freya's wounds, speaking reassuringly. "Stay with me; you hear me? Stay with me; don't you dare give up."
His blood-stained fingers caressed her blonde hair gently.
Lucien mocked, "What a heartwarming scene… You two could make a cute couple," and then added, "But enough of that; we are here on business, and the clock is ticking."
The vampire signaled for the man to take his place at the altar; Vincent averted his eyes from the unconscious witch, looking at the vampire with disgust. "Come on, man," Lucien mockingly mimicked his accent. "There's a spell that needs doing, and we don't want the Ancestors to melt that precocious little brain of yours, do we now?"
Vincent laid Freya carefully on the ground, checking one last time that she was still breathing, and walked towards the altar.
"That's a good lad," Lucien said as he pulled out a vial of reddish-orange fluid from his jacket pocket and poured it into the mortar.
"What's that?" Vincent demanded suspiciously.
"That's not exactly need to know, Vin," Lucien replied dismissively.
"Your job is specific," he reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small moleskin notebook. Flipping through the pages and stopping at a marked page. "This part's all you." He said and passed the notebook to Vincent with an arrogant tone.
The black-dressed man grasped the notebook and took a look at the notes. Bewildered, he studied the text in the magical language once more and turned to various pages, realizing they were filled with powerful spells, some considered lost and others safeguard secrets of covens across the globe. He returned to the marked page and murmured, "This is it. This is the spell that created the Originals."
"Took an entire coven ages to reverse-engineer it." Lucien said smugly, "And then, I had to get my hands on this." He pulled from his pocket the white oak bullet and tossed it in the mortar with Freya's blood and the reddish-orange fluid.
"No. No way, man. I'm not doing this for you." Vincent declared, but before he could turn his back on Lucien, he collapsed on the ground, screaming in agony.
An amused Lucien pointed out the obvious. "Well, it seems the Ancestors beg to differ..."
And as suddenly as it began, Vincent's pain stopped; he tried to catch his breath in relief. "Now, get to work like a good chap." Lucien ordered and took a step back from the altar.
The defeated witch took his place on the altar and gazed one more time at the written incantation. As he plunged his hands into the bowl of blood and fluid and started chanting, he felt his power amplified. At that point, there in the clearing of the forest, Vincent Griffith was no longer alone. He felt and almost saw generations of his ancestors forming a circle around him and the altar and chanting with him, their power flowing through him and seeping into the goo with the materials, merging them into something that itself contained incredible power.
All that magical energy touched Freya, reviving her almost comatose body. Her consciousness began to return along with her courage. She sat back on the root of a tree, watching in horror as the reverse immortality spell was performed before her.
Lucien was standing on the other side of the altar, looking triumphant as he waited for the ceremony to be completed. Her eyes caught his. "All this effort to become a sad copy of an Original? You think you can just wake up one day and become top of the food chain?" she questioned.
The vampire did his best to ignore her petty remarks and not engage in a verbal battle with her. Instead, he focused on the ceremony in front of him, but that comment of hers "about waking one day and becoming top of the food chain" struck a nerve and made him lose his temper. He
vamp-speed over to her, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders and pulling her up. "It did not happen overnight, I assure you. The truth is, I used to think your siblings gods... until my love was stolen and our lives taken by their compulsion."
He gazed at her, and it was evident that the instant he started yelling, his memories surged with clarity. Rage was etched across his features. Yet, every part of her resisted; she refused to meet his gaze, to validate his justification for his actions. Not when her family's safety was at stake. Hatred washed over her for this duplicitous traitor who had masqueraded as their ally.
Lucien's rage was just as intensified by her contempt as hers by his. So the vampire kept speaking, reliving the moment that it all began. "Once free, I realized they were not worthy of all that had been gifted to them. I decided, then, that I would become in the flesh what I have always been—their better. See that? He points to Vincent and the spell in progress. "I have engineered every second since into achieving this moment."
"You faked the prophecy." Freya rebuked
"Oh, no. When I found the prophecy foretelling your family's end, I knew it was true... and that I was its living embodiment." He moved in even closer, encroaching on her personal space, and locked eyes with her, his expression wild and frenzied. "It is my rise that shall be their downfall."
Vincent continued to chant, seemingly lost in a place far removed from the screaming match Lucien and Freya were engulfed in. As he lifted his hands from the mortar, the mixture ignited, erupting into a towering inferno that forced the Regent of New Orleans to lean back, overwhelmed by the fiery vortex that spiraled upward.
Freya's expression shifted to one of terror as she comprehended the success of the spell, while Lucien's face lit up with a triumphant grin, reveling in his victory. The flames dissipate with such intensity that Vincent was hurled backwards, collapsing unconscious onto the forest floor, just as Lucien dashed toward the basin, cackling with glee. Eagerly retrieved an empty bottle from his pocket, filling it with the blood mixture before sealing the spigot and placing it back in his pocket. Then he picked the stone ladle resting in the mortar and raised it, filled, for Freya to see, her face a mask of despair, smirked victorious, brought the spoon to his lips, and emptied its contents into his mouth, swallowing.
Freya approached Vincent, noticing him beginning to awaken, his eyelids flickering as he came back to reality. She kneeled beside him, and as he gradually opened his eyes, the confusion in his expression was unmistakable. "Is it over? Did he drink it?" he inquired.
In response, she nodded silently, affirming his question. The man attempted to rise, and Freya lent him her support, helping him to stand. Vincent gazed at her, a deep sense of guilt washing over him. "I'm so sorry," he murmured.
"I can't allow you to hold onto that serum any longer," Vincent declared as he extended his arm and flicked his wrist, unleashing a summoning spell that forced Lucien to the ground. The ancient vampire howled in agony, struggling against the torment, while crimson sweat started to seep from his skin.
Just as Vincent was about to complete the incantation, a sharp pain seized his back, forcing him to scream. The ancestors unleashed a pain-inflicting spell upon him. His bones shattered under the strain, twisting his body in agony. Vincent desperately begged the Ancestors to stop, and Lucien seized the opportunity to break free from his own enchantment.
Vincent's voice rose in desperation as he shouted, "You're making a mistake..."
Lucien laughed at the turn of events, and the ancestors stopped. With a sigh of relief, Vincent collapsed to the ground. Freya quickly leaped onto him, shielding him from the vampire's lethal intent. "Please, no one needs to die today!" she pleaded to Lucien.
The vampire sank to his knees before them, a look of mock sympathy etched on his face."Oh, oh, sweet Freya," he said with a patronizing tone. "Today is the beginning of an awful lot of death... starting with yours, I'm afraid." He seized her wrists, yanking her upright as she gazed at him, anguish written all over her features. "Truly, you and I could've been quite the thing."
With a swift motion, he tightened his grip around her throat, leaving her gasping for air just as Elijah and Finn emerged into the clearing.
"Lucien, let her go," Elijah commanded.
"Oh... Just in time for the party, lads! Let the fun begin! Can either of you get to me faster than I can rip your darling sister's head off?"
Elijah and Finn shared a worried look, which answered Lucien's question for him and caused him to chuckle smugly. "Didn't think so."
Before Lucien could do anything, Vincent used his last power to break Lucien's hands, causing Freya to collapse to the ground, gasping for air. Finn vamp-sped her away from danger while Elijah vamp-sped Vincent to the car waiting at the other end of the forest.
"Oh, you clever bastards!" Lucien monologued, "No problem, you just delayed the inevitable a bit."
"What happened, man? Where is Freya?" Vincent asked once in the safety of the car.
"If you must know, Mr. Griffith, I'll assume she's safely boarded on a small craft a few miles from here. Finn vamp-speeded her there, and hopefully, soon they will be up in the air and back to the protection of our home in New Orleans.
Vincent gazed at him, clearly taken aback. "Did Davina find the message I left her? How did you track us down so quickly?" he inquired.
"I'm not privy to any message for Miss Claire. As for our discovery of your whereabouts, when will you grasp that the Mikaelsons are perpetually a step ahead?" He said with a nonchalant arrogance. "Now, do enlighten me—was the reverse immortality spell finalized?" he asked casually, causing Vincent's eyes to widen in shock.
Finn carried Freya into the aircraft's cabin, commanding the pilot to take off immediately. He cradled her head, urging her gently, "Come now, dear sister, drink." With a firm bite to his wrist, he pressed it to her lips, offering his blood, brushing the hair from her face with his other hand. Freya finally consumed enough blood to regain her strength; she opened her eyes, gasping for air and scanning her surroundings in a frenzy.
"You're safe now. You're alright," Finn assured her.
"Where is he? What happened? Where is Elijah?"
Finn held her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"It's alright! It's all over!" he spoke soothingly.
In a state of panic, Freya struggled to break free from his embrace. "Did you kill Lucien?" she asked, fear lacing her voice.
"We left him alive, sister, merely postponing the inevitable. As for Elijah, he was on a mission to save Vincent—given our history, it was not fitting for me to be Mr. Griffith's savior. Elijah messaged me; they managed to escape and will rendezvous with us back in New Orleans."
"You don't understand, Finn—Lucien drank the serum. He wanted you to kill him. To help him take the final step..." Freya said in panic.
"We were aware of his plot to reverse the immortality spell, which is precisely why we avoided taking his life. As I said, sister, merely postponing the inevitable, but at least we forced him to delay taking that final step."
