Qetsiyah Is Back

Ivar's glare was sharp enough to cut through stone. His fingers twitched at his side, the barely restrained urge to strike evident in the tension of his posture. The dim glow of the fire cast long shadows over his face, accentuating the fury burning in his eyes.

"Don't try anything funny, Mother," he said, voice low, dangerously calm. "Or God help me, I will kill you this time myself."

The room felt colder.

Klaus chuckled darkly from where he stood by the window, his smirk curling at the edges like he was enjoying a particularly amusing show. His blue eyes flickered between Ivar and Esther, intrigue dancing behind them.

"Well, that's a promise worth watching," Klaus murmured, sipping his drink.

Esther didn't react—not outwardly, at least. She simply held Ivar's gaze, unflinching. The flickering fire reflected in her eyes, unreadable, distant.

Ivar scoffed under his breath and turned on his heel, pushing past Henrik and making his way toward the door. His footsteps were steady, controlled, but the force in them made it clear—he was done with this conversation.

Silence stretched as the door clicked shut behind him.

Kol exhaled dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. "Well. That was tense."

Freya still hadn't moved, still hadn't spoken. Her eyes were locked onto Esther like she was trying to dissect her with sheer will alone.

Elijah leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping against his glass thoughtfully. "We need answers."

Finn, who had been silent all this time, finally looked up. "And what if we don't like them?"

Rebekah let out a sigh, rubbing her temples. "Do we ever?"

Klaus tilted his head, still watching Esther, amused. "Well, mother, since you seem to have defied the very laws of nature, I do hope you have something interesting to say."

Esther finally moved then—slowly, deliberately. She glanced down at her hands, flexing her fingers as if she could feel something shifting beneath her skin.

"I wish I had answers for you," she said, voice softer than expected. "But I don't."

The tension in the air thickened again.

Henrik, ever the youngest, sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You know what? This is too much for tonight." He grabbed a bottle off the table and took a long swig straight from it, ignoring the judging looks. "I refuse to deal with more supernatural bullshit until I've had at least four more drinks."

Kol grinned. "Now that is a plan I can get behind."

Freya finally looked away from Esther, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly. "For once, I agree."

For now, the questions could wait.

But something still lingered in the air—an unease that none of them could shake.

Outside, the wind howled.

The night air was sharp, crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and something colder—something unnatural. The town stretched beyond, quiet, but not peaceful. Mystic Falls never really slept. Not anymore.

Ivar stood at the edge of the balcony, arms crossed, jaw tight. His frown hadn't faded since he left the room. The weight in his chest was familiar—too many things unraveling at once, the kind of chaos that never meant anything good.

His mother was back.

That alone was enough of a headache. But if she had slipped through, then that meant other things could too. Worse things.

Qetsiyah.

His fingers curled tighter around his arm, his breath slow, controlled. He had a feeling. A bad one.

If she was back, then Silas wasn't far behind. And if those two were coming to Mystic Falls…

Yeah. This was already a mess.

A creak sounded behind him. Light footsteps.

He didn't turn. Didn't need to.

Alyssa.

She didn't say anything, didn't ask. She just stepped forward, her arms sliding around his waist from behind, pressing herself into his back.

Warmth. Steady, grounding warmth.

Ivar let out a slow breath, his muscles untensing just slightly.

"You're thinking too much," Alyssa murmured, her cheek resting against him.

He smirked a little, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "That obvious?"

She hummed. "You get this look when you're brooding. All dark and dramatic."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "I don't brood."

She tightened her hold slightly. "Sure, keep telling yourself that."

Silence stretched between them. The wind picked up, brushing strands of her hair against his arm.

Finally, Ivar spoke again, voice quieter this time. "Qetsiyah's back."

Alyssa didn't react, but he felt her fingers twitch against his stomach.

"If she's back, she's out for blood," he continued. "And if she's out for blood, that means I'm a target." His jaw clenched. "Which also means she's going to draw Silas here."

Alyssa sighed, closing her eyes. "So… more ancient psychopaths running around?"

"Pretty much."

She was quiet for a moment, then shifted so she could look up at him. "And your mother? You think it's connected?"

Ivar exhaled slowly. "I don't believe in coincidences."

Alyssa studied his face, then gently reached up, brushing a stray strand of his hair back. "You don't have to figure it all out right now."

Ivar finally turned, meeting her eyes. The moonlight caught in them, deep pools of something he couldn't quite name. Something steady, even when the world around them never was.

He lifted a hand, resting it on her wrist.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I know."

For a moment, just a moment, the chaos didn't feel so heavy.

The streets of Mystic Falls were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. The occasional rustle of leaves filled the air, carried by the cool night breeze. It was the kind of silence that felt unnatural, the kind that hinted at something lurking just beneath the surface.

Two figures walked side by side, their steps slow, deliberate.

Bonnie's arms were crossed, her brows furrowed as she glanced around warily. "I still don't get why we're walking through town like this," she muttered. "This isn't exactly a casual stroll."

Beside her, Qetsiyah smiled—a slow, knowing smile, the kind that never meant anything good. "Oh, Bonnie, must you always be so tense?" Her tone was light, teasing, but there was something behind it. Something sharp.

Bonnie shot her a look. "Forgive me if I don't exactly feel at ease walking next to the most infamous witch in history."

Qetsiyah chuckled, tilting her head. "Flattery will get you nowhere, dear." She gestured vaguely around them. "Besides, this place… it's quaint. Quiet. So much history. Feels almost nostalgic."

Bonnie exhaled sharply, stopping in her tracks. "Enough games, Qetsiyah. Why are we here?"

Qetsiyah paused as well, her gaze drifting up toward the sky. The moonlight cast a soft glow on her features, but her eyes—her eyes held storms.

"Because, my dear," she murmured, her smile fading, "it's time to settle old debts."

Bonnie felt a chill run down her spine.

Qetsiyah turned to her fully then, the playfulness from before gone. "You feel it, don't you?"

Bonnie swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Because, yes—she did feel it. The way the air in Mystic Falls seemed heavier. The way magic felt different, charged, like the calm before a storm.

Qetsiyah took a step closer, lowering her voice. "They always say history repeats itself." She smirked, tilting her head. "But what happens when it never ended in the first place?"

Bonnie's heart pounded.

Somewhere in the distance, a light flickered. The wind picked up.

And just like that, Qetsiyah was smiling again, as if she hadn't just unsettled Bonnie to her very core. "Well," she said, looping her arm through Bonnie's as if they were nothing more than old friends, "shall we?"

Bonnie didn't move at first. But then, slowly, she let out a breath and started walking again.

Because deep down, she knew—whatever was coming, it had already begun.