Mystic Falls, 2009 — The Night Before
Elena Gilbert lay in her bed, tossing between half-formed dreams and the chill that always clung to her windows in winter. She dreamed of the bridge. Of the river that swallowed her parents. Of a man standing on the water, runes dripping like oil from his eyes.
Wake up, the Stigma pulsed.
But Elena didn't wake. She sank deeper — into visions Aleksandr had planted like seeds in fresh soil.
The Boarding House
Damon perched on the stair railing, a glass of bourbon balanced on his knee. Stefan slammed the door below, pacing like a caged animal.
"You told her everything!" Stefan hissed. "About the tomb, about Katherine —"
Damon's grin was shark-sharp. "Relax, brother. Let her peek behind the curtain. Humans love secrets."
Stefan grabbed him by the collar, fangs bared. "Aleksandr knows. If he thinks we're jeopardizing the Petrova—"
Damon's laugh turned to a cough when the runes burned behind his eyes — Aleksandr's Stigma watching. He ripped himself free, wiping blood from his lip.
"He's not God, Stefan."
A cold voice cut through the room: "Close enough."
They spun. Aleksandr stood by the fireplace, his coat dripping from the storm outside. He looked the same as always — ageless, impossibly calm, the weight of centuries pressing every word flat.
Stefan stepped back. Damon swallowed hard, then forced a grin. "Speak of the devil."
Aleksandr's smile was more threat than warmth. "You're no devils, Damon. Merely fools who play at being monsters."
In the graveyard, Rebekah knelt in front of an old stone slab — the hiding place of the dagger forged to bind an immortal. She traced the runes, her fingers trembling.
"You're really going to do it?"
Caroline Forbes stepped out from the shadows, arms wrapped around herself for warmth. She wasn't a vampire yet — just a girl with too many questions and a nose for danger.
Rebekah forced a smile. "How long have you been spying on me?"
"Long enough," Caroline said. "What does it do?"
Rebekah turned back to the slab, her voice soft. "It ends him. Or so the witches claim."
"Why would you want to kill your brother?"
Rebekah's eyes glistened with tears she hadn't let fall in a century. "Because he'll never let us be free. Not really."
She looked up at Caroline, a plea in her voice. "Help me."
Kol sat in an abandoned church outside London, candles flickering around him. The witch across from him trembled, her eyes rolled back in a trance.
He dipped his finger in a bowl of lamb's blood, painting a crude serpent sigil on her forehead. "Now, sweet girl, tell me where our dear Aleksandr keeps his heart buried."
The witch's mouth moved, but her voice was Aleksandr's — distorted, echoing.
"Where you buried yours, Kol. Deep enough to rot, shallow enough to grow."
Kol slammed the bowl away, blood splattering the wall. He laughed — wild, feral.
"Good. It wouldn't be fun if you didn't bite back, big brother."
Elena stood on the bridge, rain soaking her through. She wasn't sure why she'd come — only that she felt called. Footsteps behind her. She turned.
Katherine.
Her doppelgänger smiled like sin in silk. "Hello, Elena."
Elena stepped back. "You're… you're real."
Katherine brushed a wet lock of hair from Elena's cheek. "So very real. And you — you're the perfect little copy. The final loop."
Elena's voice cracked. "Final?"
Katherine's smile vanished. "You think Aleksandr will stop once he has your blood? Once the curse is done?"
Thunder rolled. A shape moved at the far end of the bridge — coat whipping in the wind.
Aleksandr.
"Run," Katherine hissed.
But Elena couldn't move. She was frozen — eyes locked on the eldest Mikaelson as he approached, the runes in his eyes flickering with terrible promise.
Aleksandr stood before her, raindrops steaming off his skin where the Stigma's power bled through.
"You shouldn't listen to ghosts," he said to Elena, voice low.
Katherine bared her fangs, stepping between them. "She's not yours."
Aleksandr's smile was a serpent's coil. "She always was."
With a flick of his wrist, runes flared in the air — and Katherine went flying, crashing through the guardrail into the river below. Elena screamed, stumbling back — but Aleksandr caught her by the wrist, holding her steady.
His eyes bored into hers — and for a moment, the Stigma's power whispered: I could free you. I could break this wheel.
But he didn't.
He released her, letting her collapse on the wet asphalt.
"Remember this night, Elena Gilbert," he said, voice echoing with centuries. "Remember who the real monster is."
He vanished into the storm, leaving her sobbing under the roar of the river that had already stolen so much from her.
Rebekah watched the rain batter her window, the dagger clutched to her chest. For once, Kol's words felt true: Every serpent eventually devours itself.
"Soon," she whispered to the night. "Soon you'll know what it means to be alone, brother."
In the dark, the Stigma pulsed — Aleksandr's eye flickering open on the other side of the world.
And he smiled.
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