Chapter 34: What the Universe Wants to Unite Not Even the Devil Can Separate

The Mystic Falls town square still throbbed with the echoes of the night—the dried blood staining the pavement, the sword lying on a bench, the ashes of the Oni scattered by the wind among the streetlights. The clock tower stood like a silent sentinel, its shadow stretched over the scene where it had all happened. Hope knelt beside Ethan, her heart racing from the break in seeing him alive, her blue eyes fixed on his as he breathed steadily, the scar on his chest barely visible now. Josie and Lizzie, a few feet away, exchanged silent glances by the dry fountain, while Landon sat on the edge of it, trying to process what had just happened.

Josie frowned, her eyes narrowing as she studied her sister. Something was wrong—a residual energy, like a shadow, hovering over Lizzie. "Lizzie, hold still for a second," she said, her voice low but firm, moving closer. Before Lizzie could protest, Josie held out her hands, her fingers shaking deeply as she muttered a spell in Latin. A dark, almost imperceptible thread began to reveal itself from Lizzie, like smoke being drawn away. It was dark magic, remnants of the Oni or something deeper that still haunted the twin.

Lizzie gasped, her eyes widening as the magic was sucked away. "What are you doing?" she said, her tone angry, but Josie didn't stop until the last of the dark streaks had disappeared from her hands, dissolving into thin air. Then, like a crashing wave, memories hit Lizzie hard—flashes of Hope, not as "Hope Marshall," but as Hope Mikaelson, a trihybrid, her friend, her rival, part of the Salvatore School family. She saw moments of laughter, fights, spells, and the weight of Malivore erasing everything. Lizzie blinked, her heart racing, but she held her tongue, her face going blank as she processed.

Josie dropped her hands, exhausted but relieved. "It was hurting you," she explained, her tone gentle. "Are you okay now?"

"Yes," Lizzie murmured, her eyes drifting to Hope, who still stood with Ethan in the center of the square. Seeing Hope like that—so vulnerable, so in love —was new. Lizzie has known Hope for years, even though the memories have been buried, and she's never seen her like this, not even with Landon. Her eyes shone in the streetlights, her face softened by something Lizzie could only describe as love. Who is that face that made her look like that? she thought, curiosity mixed with a pang of protectiveness.

Josie heard her sister's gaze, realizing the same. "Let's leave them for a while," she suggested, touching Lizzie's arm. "I think…they need this."

Lizzie hesitated, her lips parted as if a question was on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes returned to Hope, and for a moment, it seemed as if she was going to step forward, confronting the weight of the memories she now carried—but then she shook her head, a crooked smile appearing. "Yeah, she clearly doesn't want anyone getting in the way," she said, her voice heavy with something Josie didn't catch. She gave Hope one last look, still digesting the recovered memories, but decided to keep the secret for now. The sisters walked away, their footsteps echoing on the sidewalk toward the dark streets of the city.

Landon struggled to his feet, brushing the dried blood from his shirt, his eyes fixed on Hope and Ethan for a moment longer. The question about the dreams was still burning in his mind, and now, seeing Hope so close to Ethan, a shadow of doubt—maybe jealousy, maybe fear—crossed his face. He frowned, his lips pressed together as if he were fighting the urge to say something. Then, looking away with a sigh, he saw Josie waiting for him, the girlfriend who had always been by his side. "I… I think I'll go with you," he said, his voice thick with something he couldn't name—maybe resignation, maybe confusion. He joined Josie, taking her hand in a firmer grip than usual, as the three of them walked out of the square, disappearing around the corner where the lights of the Mystic Grill twinkled in the distance.

Ethan had already released Hope, sitting up with a groan as he rubbed his chest, where the scar was now just a thin line. Hope, still slightly flushed in the face, looked away, her fingers fiddling nervously with the sleeve of her jacket. "I'm sorry… for holding you like that," she murmured, her voice shy, a rare thing for her.

Ethan caught her eyes, the blue and green shining in the streetlights, and a crooked smile curved his lips. "There's nothing wrong with that," he said, his husky voice filled with a warmth that made her heart leap. "Actually, it was…nice."

Hope chuckled, the soft sound breaking the tension as she stared back at him, her cheeks still flushed. She reached out, helping him to his feet, his fingers firm against hers for a moment longer than necessary. Ethan steadied himself, rubbing his chest with a playful grimace. "I sure wouldn't want to take another blow like that," he said with a chuckle.

She laughed too, the sound a mix of brokenness and something deeper, as she shook her head. "You won't have to, I promise," she replied, her tone soft, but her eyes betrayed the guilt she still carried for having hurt him.

As they spoke, a subtle sound—like cracking stone—came from the ground a few feet away. Hope froze, her instincts spiking as she turned her head. A small, foot-wide crack had opened in the pavement, dark and pulsing, exuding an energy she knew all too well. An unearthly shiver ran down her spine, as if the pit whispered memories of pain and loss she was trying to forget. "Malivore," she whispered, her eyes widening as she approached, Ethan at her side, his expression steely.

"Is that the well?" he said, his voice low, his heterochromia eyes fixed on the crevice. He had never seen the Malivore well before.

"It is," Hope confirmed, her heart racing as she stared into the crevice, the fleeting memory of an endless void flashing through her mind. "But I've never seen it so small. Something's wrong." She took a step forward, magic pulsing through her veins, ready for whatever came.

Ethan looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling above the silhouette of the clock tower, and studied the back of his neck, a slight discomfort in his posture. "It's late," he said, his voice a little tighter now, as if he felt the weight of what had just happened. "Maybe we should—"

Hope interrupted, turning to him with an intensity that made him stop. Her blue eyes stared at him, steady, searching for something beyond what he showed. "Ethan, what did the Oni mean by those words?" she said, her voice low but urgent. "Who is Lucifer Morningstar? Because... I've heard that name before. Isn't it like... the name of the devil ?"

Ethan was visibly nervous, his eyes shifting for a moment before returning to her. He ran his hand through his hair, laughing in a forced way that didn't suit him. "Maybe the Oni was going crazy, I mean the thing was like a demon, right? So he must have been talking about his super boss or something," he said, trying to lighten his tone. "I don't know anyone with that name, Hope. Seriously."

Hope frowned, her hands clenching into fists as she glared at him. She knew he was lying—she could see it in his eyes, in the way his shoulders stiffened, in the hesitation he couldn't hide. "You're lying," she said, her voice firm now, almost a challenge. "What about what the Oni said about me? That your head is all messed up because of me? Are you going to deny that, too?"

Ethan froze, his heterochrome eyes locked on hers, the blue and green seeming to fight something he didn't want to say. Hope took a deep breath, her heart pounding as she took a step closer, her voice softening but still conveying emotion. "Why do you look at me like you know me?" she said, almost whispering now. "Your gaze can't lie to me, Ethan."

Ethan frowned, a shadow of sadness shaping his features, his eyes clouded with a pain he tried to bury. Hope noticed, her chest tightening at the weight of it on him, and her voice shook when she spoke again. "Please, Ethan, open up to me," she begged, her eyes brimming with tears. "I need answers. This is getting too much for me to bear."

A heavy silence fell between them, the distant sound of the bell tower marking the passing of the night. Ethan slowly lifted his hand, his fingers brushing her face with a tenderness that seemed to carry years of longing, his warm palm against her cheek bringing a restrained passion that made her heart skip a beat. Hope froze, his touch like an anchor in the chaos, and for a moment, all that existed was the warmth of his hand and the gaze that held hers.

He looked into her eyes, so fragile, so beautiful, shining in the dim light with a vulnerability that disarmed him. All he wanted was to bridge the gap between them, to say everything he'd been holding back—even if it hurt, even if it changed everything. Her eyes shifted, the green exploding into a fluorescent glow, wild and intense, like when she transformed, a light that seemed to see straight into her soul.

Hope's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, her breath caught as the glow enveloped her. Ethan noticed, and a soft, almost melancholic smile curved his lips. "It seems that not even a being with that level of power can interfere with what the universe wants to unite," he said, his voice husky, filled with something that echoed beyond that moment, as if he knew of a destiny she did not yet understand.

Hope was lost in those eyes, the same green that had stared at her with passion that night when he had transformed into a werewolf—fierce, but so full of something that seemed only for her. Why do you look at me with such passionate eyes, Ethan? she thought, her heart racing, beating so loudly it seemed to echo in the square. She didn't say the words out loud, but they burned in her mind, each beat pulling her closer to him, as if the universe really was conspiring to keep them from being separated.

Without realizing it, Hope had moved closer, her feet moving as if guided by a greater force. Her eyes still locked on his, she hesitantly raised her hands until her fingers touched his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath his shirt, his heart pounding against her palms. Ethan held his breath, her breath so close he could feel the heat against his lips, a soft breath that seemed to set every fiber of his being on fire. The world around him—the square, the Malivore pit, the secrets—vanished, and there was only her, so close, so real.

He couldn't take it anymore. With a gentle but urgent movement, Ethan leaned in and kissed her, his lips meeting hers in a burst of heat and electricity. Her entire body shook, as if a living current ran through her veins, his every touch igniting a fire she'd never known. It was more than a kiss—it was a depth of soul, an unspoken promise that spanned time, as if every broken piece inside her had found its rightful place. Her fingers tightened on his chest, pulling him closer, while his lips moved against hers with a perfect blend of tenderness and hunger, as if he'd been waiting an eternity for this moment.

For Hope, nothing in her life—not the moments with Landon, not the victories over monsters, not the magic pulsing through her blood—came close to this. It was as if the universe had stopped to watch, the stars above shining brighter, the air charged with an energy only they could feel. Each second stretched out, endless, and she lost herself in the feel of his lips, the warmth of his hands coming up to cup her face, the way he seemed to say, without words, that she was everything. The best kiss of her life, without a doubt, because it wasn't just a touch—it was the beginning of something she could no longer deny, something that scared her and fulfilled her at the same time.

Hope was so lost in the kiss that her mind went blank, unable to think of anything but the feel of his lips, the heat that seemed to melt her insides. It felt so good, so perfect, that the whole world could fall apart and she wouldn't notice. But then, like a flash of lightning, reality hit her—this was all happening too fast, too intense, in just two days. The weight of it made her hesitate, and with an effort that ached in her chest, she tore her lips away from Ethan, her breath short, her eyes wide. Without a word, she turned and ran, her feet slamming against the pavement, the bell tower ringing a lonely note in the background as she disappeared down the street toward the distant glow of the Mystic Grill.

Ethan stood still, his chest rising and falling as he watched her run, her silhouette disappearing around the corner beneath the streetlights. A soft smile curved his lips, not of regret but of a certainty he couldn't explain. His eyes, which had still glowed a faint fluorescent green, slowly returned to normal, their natural blue and green settling as he lifted his face to the sky, the stars twinkling above the clock tower. The taste of her still burned in his mouth, sweet and addictive, and for a second he wanted to turn and find her—but no. Not yet. Without a word, he walked to his Harley parked on the street beside the square, the leather of his jacket creaking as he climbed on. The engine roared to life, a low rumble that echoed through the empty streets, and he sped away.

As he rode, the taste of Hope's lips still danced in his mouth—sweet, warm, addictive, like something he could chase forever. A low chuckle escaped him, thick with defiance, and he muttered to himself, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, "Not even you, you fucking Morningstar, can change that." The words were swallowed up by the roar of the bike, but the weight of them found them, a promise he made to the universe, to Hope, and maybe to himself.