Sun and Moon I

Elena sat frozen in place as Elijah suddenly gasped back to life. His eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused, and for a moment, he seemed caught between the present and the past.

"Katerina?" he rasped, his voice rough from his sudden resurrection. Confusion clouded his face as he struggled to steady himself. He tried to move forward, but as soon as he did, his breath came in short, strained gasps. His body trembled, muscles locking as an unseen force restrained him.

Elena's heart pounded as she realized what was happening—he couldn't breathe.

"You—" he choked out, looking around the room in desperation. "I haven't been invited in."

Elena hesitated for only a moment before making a decision. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the dagger—the same one that had been used to kill him. She extended it toward him cautiously.

"I need you to trust me," she said softly, watching him closely for any sign of aggression. "And I need to trust you."

Elijah's sharp gaze flicked to the dagger in her hand, recognition flickering in his dark eyes. Slowly, the tension in his posture eased, though the suspicion remained.

"I assume you didn't wake me for pleasantries," he murmured, still struggling to breathe as he stood just beyond the threshold.

Elena nodded. "Come in, Elijah."

The moment the invitation was spoken, he inhaled deeply, steadying himself before stepping inside.

Leon had said she needed Elijah. The man was a broad thinker, and she wondered what Elijah could offer. After all, Leon had an entire coven behind him.

__________________

Later, Stefan stood near the boarding house, staring at his phone with a deepening frown. He had been searching for Elena when he noticed something was off—she was gone. And so was Elijah.

He pressed the phone to his ear, relief washing over him when she finally answered.

"Elena, where are you?" he demanded.

"I need time alone with Elijah," she said, her voice firm but calm.

Stefan tensed. "Are you serious? Elena, he's dangerous. You can't trust him."

"I need answers, Stefan. And I need you to respect my decision."

"Elena—"

"I mean it," she cut in, her voice unwavering. "I'll be fine."

Stefan clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the phone. He wanted to argue, to go after her, but deep down, he knew she wouldn't budge. With a reluctant sigh, he nodded, though she couldn't see him.

"Just… be careful."

'Of course' she thought in her heart, expecting no less from Stefan.

"I will." she said.

_________________________

and regal demeanor settling back into place. He studied her for a moment before speaking.

"What is it you want to know?"

Elena took a deep breath. "Everything."

Elijah's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then let me start with the truth—Klaus is my half-brother."

Elena blinked, caught off guard. "Your what?"

"He is not just a vampire," Elijah continued. "Klaus is something else entirely—a hybrid. Part vampire, part werewolf."

Elena's stomach twisted. She had expected something terrible, but this? It was worse than she had imagined.

"There's more," Elijah went on, his voice measured. "The legend of the Sun and the Moon curse? It's a lie."

Elena frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The curse is not on all vampires and werewolves," Elijah explained. "It was never about them. It was created as a ruse, planted throughout history to manipulate both species into searching for the Moonstone and the doppelgänger." His gaze darkened. "The real curse was placed on Klaus—to suppress his werewolf side."

Elena felt her breath hitch. "So… if he breaks it?"

"He will become a true hybrid." Elijah's expression was grave. "And once that happens, he will be nearly impossible to stop."

A shiver ran through Elena as the weight of his words sank in.

___________________________________

Back at the Salvatore house, Damon sat beside Andie Starr, drink in hand. He barely listened as she prattled on, his thoughts consumed by Elena.

Andie touched his arm. "Damon, are you even listening?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not really."

She gave a small, amused smirk. "That's honest, at least."

Damon downed the rest of his bourbon before setting the glass aside. His expression shifted—more serious, more vulnerable.

"I love her," he admitted suddenly.

Andie blinked. "Elena?"

Damon chuckled dryly. "Who else?"

Andie tilted her head. "Then why are you here with me?"

Damon leaned back, his smirk fading. "Because I can't have her." His voice was quiet, almost resigned. "And you… you're a distraction."

Andie sighed. "Well, at least you're self-aware."

Damon didn't respond. He simply poured himself another drink, drowning in the one truth he could never change.

_______________________

At Alaric's apartment, Greta Martin and Leon Delgallo stood over a massive, ornate box. Alaric Saltzman—or rather, the body he was currently trapped in—stood before them. Klaus, imprisoned within, would soon be free.

Greta whispered an incantation, her voice merging with Leon's as they wove their magic together. The air crackled with energy, the very ground vibrating beneath them.

Then, suddenly—

A sharp gasp. A ragged breath.

The wooden box creaked open. Slowly, a figure emerged, stepping into the flickering candlelight. His presence was undeniable, his aura one of power, charm, and deadly intent.

Klaus Mikaelson had finally returned.

With an easy smirk, he straightened his jacket, glancing down at his restored body.

"Now that's more like it."

______________________

The night was thick with tension, the air electric with the promise of bloodshed. The streets of Mystic Falls were quiet, but beneath the surface, war was brewing.

Carol Lockwood had just finished setting a kettle on the stove when a sudden force struck her from behind. The impact sent her flying forward, her body slamming hard against the wooden staircase. A sharp cry tore from her throat as she tumbled down, her limbs colliding painfully with each step before she hit the floor with a sickening thud.

She groaned in pain, her vision swimming. She tried to move, but a sharp sting shot up her arm—broken.

Above her, standing in the shadows, Chase Langley exhaled slowly, lowering his outstretched hand. His eyes flickered with restrained magic, his expression cold. He hadn't wanted to hurt her this badly—just enough to serve their purpose.

Greta Martin stood beside him, watching impassively. "That was excessive," she noted, though her tone lacked judgment.

"She'll live," Chase muttered, turning away. "What matters is that Tyler hears about it. He won't ignore this."

Greta glanced down at Carol's unconscious body before nodding. "Let's go. We still need to find Caroline."

_____________________________

Alaric Saltzman stood in the doorway of the Gilbert house, the weight of his own skin feeling foreign after spending so much time as Klaus' unwilling puppet. His knuckles were white as he clenched the frame, his mind still reeling from the past few days of forced possession.

"Elena," he said, his voice raw.

She turned, surprised to see him. "Alaric?"

His gaze was weary, shadowed with guilt and something darker—fear. "It's happening tonight."

The words sent an immediate chill down her spine.

"Klaus is ready. The ritual… it's set."

Elena swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "Then we have no time to waste."

_________________________

Damon moved swiftly through the woods, the stale scent of blood and damp earth thick in the air.

He wasn't alone.

Chase Langley stood at the entrance of the chamber, his eyes glowing with barely restrained power. He smirked at Damon, arms crossed, completely at ease.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," Chase mused. "Didn't think you'd be dumb enough to try this alone."

Damon rolled his shoulders. "What can I say? I like impossible odds."

With a flick of his wrist, Chase sent Damon flying across the tomb, his body slamming into the stone wall with a brutal crack. Pain flared through his ribs, but he gritted his teeth, pushing himself to his feet.

Chase smirked. "You really should've stayed out of this, Salvatore."

Before he could attack again, the sudden bang of a rifle shot echoed through the chamber. Chase jerked forward, eyes wide in shock as blood bloomed across his chest. He staggered, looking toward the entrance—

Matt Donovan stood there, his hands gripping a hunting rifle, chest heaving. His face was pale, but his aim was steady.

Damon wasted no time. In a blur of motion, he lunged, snapping Chase's neck before the witch could recover. The body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Matt's breathing was ragged as he lowered the gun. "Did I just—"

"You saved my ass. Congrats." Damon wiped the blood from his mouth, already moving toward Caroline and Tyler. "Now let's get them out of here."

Caroline's eyes darted between them. "Where's Jules?"

Damon exhaled sharply. "Still missing." He broke her chains, yanking them away from her wrists.

Then came the growl.

Damon's head snapped toward Tyler, who was doubled over, his body trembling violently.

"No—no, not now," Tyler choked out, his fingers clawing into the dirt floor. His bones cracked as his transformation began.

Damon cursed under his breath. "We don't have time for this."

Caroline grabbed Tyler's shoulders, panic flashing across her face. "Tyler, fight it—you have to hold on!"

But it was too late.

The sickening crunch of bones echoed through the tomb as Tyler's body contorted, his agonized screams twisting into guttural snarls. His eyes burned gold, his fangs elongating as thick fur sprouted across his skin.

"Move!" Damon barked, shoving Caroline back just as Tyler lunged.

The werewolf's claws tore into Damon's shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground. He barely had time to react before Tyler was on him, fangs sinking deep into his flesh.

Pain—searing, burning pain—erupted through Damon's body. A werewolf bite.

Caroline screamed.

Matt fired another shot, missing as Tyler snarled and whipped toward him.

Damon staggered up, gritting his teeth through the agony. His vision swam, but he forced himself to grab Caroline's arm. "We're leaving. Now."

Caroline hesitated, glancing at Tyler, torn between fear and loyalty.

But Tyler was gone—the boy she knew had vanished into the beast before them.

Damon pulled her toward the exit. "We can't save him." His voice was harsh, ragged from pain. "But if we don't get out now, we won't make it either."

With one last glance at Tyler, Caroline swallowed hard and nodded.

They ran.

Damon knew one thing as the fire spread through his veins, the deadly poison of the bite taking hold.

Time was no longer on his side.

_________________________________

While Damon spent his day one way, Stefan and Elena had other plans.

The forest was alive with the gentle rustling of leaves, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the trees. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance, the world so painfully serene that it only heightened the weight pressing down on Elena's chest.

She followed Stefan up the narrow trail, her fingers brushing over the rough bark of a tree as they moved deeper into the woods. The scent of pine and damp earth clung to the air, grounding her in the present—her last day as a human.

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Stefan glanced back at her, his expression soft but searching. "Are you okay?"

Elena let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "No. Not even a little."

He stopped, waiting for her to catch up. When she did, he reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Talk to me."

She stared at their intertwined fingers before looking up at him, her eyes glistening. "I don't want this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be a vampire, Stefan. I never have."

Stefan's jaw tensed, but he nodded. "I know."

Her lips trembled as she continued. "I feel like… if I do this, I lose myself. I lose the ability to grow, to change. I was finally beginning to find myself. What if I get stuck in this version of myself, Stefan? What if I wake up a hundred years from now and regret everything?"

Stefan sighed, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "I wish I could take this burden from you," he murmured against her hair. "But whatever happens, I need you to know that you won't lose yourself. You're Elena. No matter what."

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking in the moment.

After a long moment, she pulled back, taking a deep breath.

"There's something else," she said hesitantly.

Stefan studied her carefully. "What is it?"

Elena's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "The memories you have of me and Leon," she said slowly, "They were planted. By him."

Stefan's eyes darkened with confusion. "What?"

Elena swallowed hard. "What you saw, never happened. We were never together like that."

His expression flickered between relief and something deeper—wariness. "Then why would he make me think that?"

She hesitated, the wind whispering through the trees around them, before she forced herself to meet his gaze.

"Because he needed to destroy you for even thinking about touching Vanessa. That's the kind of man he is. He tortured, yes, but he also needed to conquer you." she admitted. 

Stefan's expression shifted, his features hardening slightly. "Elena…"

She exhaled, pressing forward. "The night of the Decade Dance… Leon and I slept together."

Silence.

Stefan's face didn't so much as flinch, but she saw the way his throat worked as he swallowed, his stance going rigid.

"I confronted him and he opened my mind. He made me experience 100 days in an instant and I had to make a choice. Despite the memories, did I want him? To experience that illusion." She continued.

Elena hated this—she hated hurting him and seeing the disappointment flicker in his eyes even as he tried to hide it. But what about her. What she wanted. And in the end, she owed him the truth, no matter how complicated.

She rushed to explain. "I've been with three men in my life. And each one… each one was something different. But Leon—" She shook her head, struggling for words. "He unlocked something in me. He made me feel free."

Stefan inhaled sharply, but remained quiet.

"And that night, whether the past was real or not, I felt him. And it was everything ---"

Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. "But I love you," she said, her eyes pleading with his. "And I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose us."

Stefan finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "Then what do you want from me, Elena?"

She blinked back the tears threatening to fall. "I want you to stay with me," she whispered. "I want you to love me for who I'm becoming, not just who I was."

Stefan stared at her for a long moment, his gaze searching—weighing.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"I do love you," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "And I'm here. But, Elena… I don't know if either of us can predict what you're becoming. And becoming a vampire will only make you worse."

Her heart ached at his words, but she nodded.

Because, deep down, she knew he was right.

The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the forest floor.

And somewhere, far beyond this moment of painful honesty, her fate was waiting.