Chapter 33

A/N

Here's Chapter 33 of Tuesday!

I'll be posting one chapter each on Saturday and Sunday. If you hit the Powerstone limit, you'll get a bonus chapter!

Powerstone count: 21/100

Disclaimer : I own Nothing

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The whole town has lost it. It's as if the world itself is correcting the plot.

My entire family has conveniently forgotten that I have magic—literally forgotten—and instead started playing the game someone else set for them.

The thing is, when our dear mother pulled her little gambit of creating another "Original" superior to us, I had already accounted for it. Trinkets, protections—precautions for our family. But now, she's gone a step further. She even got her hands on a White Oak stake.

From the targeted divination I performed, it seems this is a desperate gamble by the witches on the Other Side—the very ones who resurrected her. They somehow managed to salvage a burned part of the bridge, reforging just enough wood to craft a single stake. That's good; otherwise, they could have just wiped us all out with ease.

Sigh.

And to make matters worse, she made it indestructible. Typical. Our mother tied the stake to her magic. I had to steal it and lock it away before it could become an actual problem.

As if that weren't enough, the Bennett girl is still involved. Even after my warning. Even after I killed her mother. She refuses to back down. The consequences of this should be felt by them all.

And our mother? More ruthless than ever. She abducted her own daughter—possessed her, even—for her twisted needs. Some things never change.

Groan.

Just then, Niklaus storms in, fury radiating off him in waves. His chest rises and falls as he struggles to control himself, but the moment he sees me, his expression shifts from rage to surprise.

"Well, Nik," I drawl, watching him warily, "what has our dear mother done this time—besides dying and making a new vampire, of course?"

"She made sure he turned into a vampire from the Other Side and handed him the White Oak stake," he growls, jaw tight.

I raise an eyebrow, feigning curiosity. "Oh? You mean this stake?"

Niklaus' eyes widen, his anger momentarily forgotten as I twirl the stake between my fingers.

"Idiot," I say, shaking my head. "Do you really think I'd allow something that can kill us to remain in our enemy's hands?" I toss the stake lazily onto the table. "I replaced it with a fake."

Niklaus exhales sharply, torn between irritation and relief.

"Anyway," I continue, stretching, "what's the plan? And where is Rebekah? She planned that ridiculous dance and then vanished. She only returned after our mother's death and rushed off to clean up for the event. No calls, no messages—nothing."

Niklaus clenches his jaw. "She's avoiding us, as usual."

"How typical. But is she?" I sigh, then smirk.

"So, brother, are we running again from a newborn? Or shall we dance?"

Niklaus barely has time to answer before the sound of a scream pierces the air. It's distant—like a whisper—but unmistakable.

Caroline.

I stiffen. Even Niklaus flinches. We exchange a look.

A heartbeat later, we're moving.

We burst through the mansion doors, the cool night air doing nothing to cut through the tension crackling between us. Niklaus is seething, his rage barely contained, but I know him well enough to see the conflict beneath.

Rebekah. Caroline.

His enemies and his weaknesses, all in the same room.

We reach the abandoned school building in mere moments. The scent of blood is thick in the air, mingling with the acrid stench of vervain. The scene inside is chaos—Caroline is bound to a chair, sweat glistening on her skin, her breath ragged. Blood drips from her temple. Across from her, Alaric stands, eyes hollow, the glint of the White Oak stake in his grip.

And against the far wall—Rebekah. Slumped. Wrists shackled in iron laced with vervain, her skin burning, a fresh gash across her cheek.

Elena is there, too. Frozen. Watching.

Something inside me turns cold.

"Well, this is a charming reunion," I say, stepping forward casually, hands in my pockets. "Isn't it a bit late for parent-teacher conferences, Alaric?"

He turns, his face a mask of hatred. "You." His voice drips venom, his grip tightening on the stake. "You will die!"

Niklaus chuckles darkly beside me. "You wouldn't be the first to try, mate. And you certainly won't be the last."

Alaric doesn't hesitate. He moves fast—but we're faster.

Niklaus lunges, his body a blur. Alaric meets him head-on, their clash sending shockwaves through the room. I don't watch. I move straight for Rebekah.

"About time," she mutters, though her voice wavers.

I snap the shackles with a flick of my wrist. She sags forward, but I catch her.

"Can you fight?" I murmur.

Rebekah lifts her chin, eyes flashing. "Try and stop me."

A scream. Caroline.

Alaric has Niklaus pinned. Vervain-laced daggers protrude from my brother's sides, his face contorted in pain. Alaric pulls back the stake—aiming for the heart.

I don't think. I act.

In a blur, I slam into Alaric, sending him crashing through a row of desks. The stake clatters across the floor. Niklaus staggers, then straightens, his eyes burning gold.

"This ends now," he growls.

Alaric is already up. His regeneration is fast—too fast. Magic hums around him, dark and twisted. The witches who created him weren't playing fair.

I glance at Elena. She hasn't moved.

"You're just going to stand there?" I sneer. "Watch your friend be tortured? Again?"

She flinches. But doesn't answer.

Pathetic.

Niklaus and Alaric clash again, the force of it shattering windows. Rebekah lunges for Caroline, snapping her restraints. The blonde gasps, trembling, but Rebekah grips her shoulders.

"Can you walk?" she demands.

Caroline nods, barely.

Rebekah doesn't wait—she carries her, moving toward the exit.

Alaric snarls, eyes darting to them. He moves—too fast—toward them.

I intercept, axe in hand.

His fist collides with my ribs, the crack echoing through the room. Pain flares, white-hot—but I welcome it. I grip his wrist, twist—and then bury the axe in his shoulder. It doesn't sever the limb, but it digs deep.

He grunts, but his free hand shoots forward, driving a blade into my stomach.

Cold steel.

I grin.

"Sloppy," I whisper. I leave the axe lodged in his shoulder, grab his hair, and drive my knee into his jaw.

His head snaps back. Niklaus is there in an instant, sinking his fangs into Alaric's shoulder. Alaric howls, but we don't let up.

This is what we are. What we were made for.

Predators.

I wrench the blade from my stomach and drive it into Alaric's thigh. He stumbles, and Niklaus takes advantage, throwing him against the wall.

For the first time, he looks winded.

With werewolf venom coursing through his veins, we should see how it affects him. Ah, if only he could be used for experiments. But I know the witches from the Other Side will keep pestering me, so I hold back that urge.

He's not beaten.

But he will be.

"You can't kill me," he pants, bloodied but standing. "I'll keep coming back."

I exchange a glance with Niklaus.

"Then," I say, stepping forward, gripping the handle of my axe, "we'll have to get creative."

"You… you're monsters," the chit whispers.

I tilt my head. "And you're surprised?"

Niklaus scoffs. "Darling, we told you what we were."

She shakes her head, stepping back. Her hands are trembling. "I—this isn't what I wanted. Alaric—he's not—"

"Not what?" I cut in, tightening my grip on my axe. "Not a murderer? Not a monster?" I gesture to the blood-stained room. "Take a look, Elena Gilbert. He was willing to kill your friends. Torture them. And you let him?" I take a step closer, voice dropping into something cold. "Pray to your gods you're still breathing, girl, because from where I stand, that shouldn't be the case. Anyway, it seems the curse is tied to you. If you die, we're free from this stupid hunter. From where I'm standing, that is a very good place to be in for me. So, say your final words."

Tears spill down her cheeks.

Caroline's ragged breathing fills the silence. Blood streaks her cheek, her wrists raw from the vervain-soaked binds that held her. Rebekah steadies her, eyes sharp and watchful, but her shoulders shake—whether from fury or exhaustion, I can't tell. Caroline's fingers twitch, curling into Rebekah's sleeve.

Alaric is still standing.

Barely.

Niklaus and I have driven him to his knees, his body trembling from our combined assault. His jaw is tight, his eyes burning with something far more dangerous than pain.

He's waiting.

For what, I'm not sure—until I see Elena move.

She steps forward, hesitant but desperate, her gaze locked onto Klaus.

"Wait," she breathes.

I arch a brow. "Darling, I do hope you're not about to beg. That would be embarrassing for all of us."

Her lips press together, but she lifts her wrist, the pulse fluttering beneath her skin.

"My blood," she says, voice steadier now. "It's what you need for your hybrids. You don't have to do this. I don't have to die."

Silence.

Niklaus stares at her. And I see it—the flicker of hesitation.

Of course.

He spent centuries chasing this. A pack. A family of his own making. Even now, when he holds all the power, he wants.

Elena sees it too. Her fingers twitch.

"Let me go," she urges, taking another step. "I'll give you my blood willingly. I won't fight you. But if you kill me, you'll never get another chance."

Niklaus tilts his head, thoughtful.

And that's when I move.

Fast. Efficient. Unforgiving.

Before anyone can react, I grip Elena by the throat and snap her neck.

The crack echoes.

She crumples.

Gone.

Silence stretches through the room.

Then—Alaric screams.

It's not human. It's raw, something ancient and unnatural tearing through his body as the spell that bound him to Elena's life unravels.

He gasps, clutching his chest. His limbs convulse. His eyes widen—then dim.

And just like that, the unstoppable hunter falls.

Dead.

Klaus stares.

Rebekah stares.

Caroline lets out a strangled breath, her grip on Rebekah tightening.

And I—

I wipe my hands on my coat and smirk, resting my axe on my shoulder. "Well, that was easy. Those were some good last words."

Niklaus whirls on me.

"You imbecile," he snarls, shoving me back. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

I roll my eyes. "Oh, forgive me, brother. Did you want to spend the next decade babysitting your little blood bank while running for another millennium? Maybe this time, it'd be sooner—because of an army of hybrids just waiting to be turned against you? I will not spare the girl."

Niklaus's hands clench. His jaw tightens.

Rebekah exhales sharply. "Kol."

"What?" I glance at Elena's lifeless body, spinning my axe lazily in my grip. "Wasn't that the logical solution? Here's a man who systematically hunted down sympathetic vampires, then threw in with our mother—the same mother the doppelgänger has been playing along with since her resurrection. And let's not forget, she helped create a version of us stronger than we are, then handed him a white oak stake for good measure. So forgive me if I fail to see the benefit of keeping her alive."

Klaus exhales through his nose. His fists shake, but I see it—the realization creeping in. The understanding that I'm right.

Still, he does love to brood.

"Congratulations, Kol," he grits out. "You've just cost me my hybrid army."

I smirk. "Oh, don't pout. I'll look into alternative methods when I care enough to be bothered."

A beat.

Then—

The door bursts open.

And just like that, the fight begins again.

The Salvatores arrive first—Stefan with his jaw clenched, Damon already moving, rage in every step.

And behind them—Bonnie.

Her fingers curl around something invisible, magic crackling in the air.

"Guess we're not done yet," I murmur, gripping my axe tighter.

Niklaus lets out a growl. "Fine by me."

And then—

Everything explodes.

The moment the Salvatores step in, the room erupts into chaos.

Magic ignites the air as Bonnie lifts her hands, the crackle of power sending a shudder through the floorboards. Klaus moves like a storm, fangs bared as he launches at Stefan. Rebekah sneers, catching Damon's first strike with effortless precision.

And me?

I grin as Bonnie raises a hand against me, eyes dark with rage.

"Ah, little witch," I murmur, lifting my axe. "You should've run when you had the chance."

She doesn't speak. Just unleashes.

A blast of magic surges forward, aimed straight at my chest. But I've danced with witches before. I twist, dodging at the last second, feeling the heat of her power as it singes the air beside me. I swing my axe in retaliation, forcing her back.

-

Stefan is fast. Strong. Determined.

But Klaus is a force of nature.

Stefan lunges, a dagger gleaming in his grip, aiming straight for Klaus's heart.

Klaus laughs—laughs—before catching Stefan's wrist mid-strike and twisting until there's an audible snap.

-

Damon's cocky grin falters as Rebekah dodges every one of his hits with infuriating ease.

"Come on, love," she mocks, sidestepping another swing. "Is that really all you've got?"

Damon smirks—just a little bloodied. "Not even close, sweetheart."

With a burst of speed, he feints left before flicking a stake from his sleeve, driving it toward her heart.

Rebekah catches it mid-air.

Her lips curl. "Cute trick."

And the fight rages on.

She wrenches the stake from his grip and drives her elbow into his face. Damon staggers, but before he can recover, she kicks him—hard. He crashes into a table, splinters flying.

Rebekah doesn't hesitate.

She's on him in an instant, fangs flashing—

Damon barely rolls away in time, snatching up a broken chair leg as he scrambles to his feet.

"You know," he breathes, smirking despite the blood at his lip, "for someone who whines about never being loved, you hit like a girl with daddy issues."

Rebekah snaps.

She lunges, fury in every step.

-

Bonnie doesn't let up.

Spell after spell, she tries to pin me down, but I keep moving.

"Ugh," I sigh, dodging another burst of magic, "is this really all the mighty Bennett witch can do? Parlor tricks?"

Bonnie clenches her fists. The air shifts.

Windows shatter.

Pressure builds—thick, crushing. Magic wraps around me, locking my limbs in place.

She smirks.

"Not so smug now, are you?" she breathes.

I tilt my head. "Oh, darling," I purr, "never underestimate me."

Then, I break free.

With an explosion of speed, I slam into her, knocking her hard against the wall. She gasps, trying to summon another spell, but my hand is already around her throat.

"Here's the thing about witches," I whisper, fangs glinting. "You're dangerous, sure. But in a fight—" I tighten my grip, watching her eyes widen. "You're fragile."

She chokes, fingers clawing at my hand—

But then—

"Incendia."

Fire.

It erupts around me, wild and scorching, forcing me back as my coat catches flame.

She collapses, gasping, pressing her hand to the floor—veins of fire snake toward me, racing fast and furious.

I hiss, tearing off my smoldering coat.

Bonnie stares me down—fierce, trembling, unrelenting.

I chuckle, low and dangerous. "Now that is more like it."

The fight is far from over.

Stefan staggers to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth, refusing to stay down.

Damon and Rebekah are a blur of rage and fangs, neither yielding.

Bonnie won't stop, every spell pushing her to the brink.

And Klaus?

Klaus grins, licking blood from his lips, eyes burning with something wild.

"Shall we dance?" he taunts.

And the war rages on.

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Word Count - 2690

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