"Looks like the hybrid is back in town," a woman at the bar said with an ironic tone as she wiped the counter. "Word is you failed miserably."
Klaus ignored the provocation, walked forward, and sat at a table.
"Stefan… meet Gloria, a witch I've known for a long time," Klaus said, and Stefan simply nodded at her.
They began talking about the situation, about how Gloria was older than she looked.
Soon, the real reason for the conversation came up—the fact that Klaus couldn't create more hybrids. Gloria claimed she needed to speak to whoever cast the curse.
Or someone connected to the one who did.
She asked for Rebekah.
Klaus granted the request and released her.
"Nik… how long?" Rebekah asked as she stood up. "How long?"
"That's not relevant, sister," Klaus replied, trying to avoid the question.
"What year is this?" Rebekah looked at Gloria dangerously.
"It doesn't matter," Klaus said calmly, shifting the focus away from Gloria. "What do you need?"
"I need something tied to your mother," Gloria replied. "An object… something that belonged to her."
"I don't have it," Rebekah said with a smile, then looked at Stefan with a warmth he didn't understand. "I gave it to him."
Gloria narrowed her eyes at Stefan, noticing the hesitation… but before she could press further, Rebekah stepped forward, clearly irritated.
"Either you're lying… or you're simply incompetent."
Stefan frowned, confused by the direct hostility.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Rebekah let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"Of course you don't."
Klaus watched in silence, paying attention to every detail—especially the genuine confusion on Stefan's face.
"He's not pretending," Klaus said at last, almost thoughtfully.
Rebekah turned to him.
"You're defending him now?"
"No," Klaus replied calmly. "I'm stating a fact."
He slowly approached Stefan, studying him like a puzzle.
"I erased parts of your mind a long time ago… it seems I was more efficient than I thought."
Stefan held his gaze, even without fully understanding.
"If you erased something, then there's no way I could know where that necklace came from."
Gloria tilted her head, interested.
"That necklace… passed through your hands."
"Yes," Stefan said. "But I never knew its origin. It just… appeared. And later I got rid of it."
Rebekah closed her eyes for a moment, frustrated.
"Wonderful. I gave an object of our mother to someone who didn't even know what he was carrying."
Gloria spoke again, taking control of the conversation.
"What matters is: the necklace still exists. And it's still tied to Esther Mikaelson."
Klaus crossed his arms.
"And you need it to speak to her."
"Exactly," Gloria replied. "Without it… any attempt would be unstable, unpredictable."
Rebekah opened her eyes again, staring at Stefan.
"Who did you give it to?"
Stefan hesitated.
Not because of memory…
But because of choice.
"Someone who has nothing to do with this," he finally said.
Klaus smirked, recognizing it immediately.
"Now that… sounds like a real secret."
Gloria watched like a patient predator.
"You may not remember the origin… but you remember the destination."
Stefan didn't respond.
The silence answered for him.
Klaus took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous.
"Stefan…"
A pause.
"I could simply rip that answer out of you."
Rebekah watched, now curious.
"Or you could let him speak," she said. "If he even knows enough to do so."
Stefan held Klaus's gaze.
"You can try."
The tension in the room spiked.
For a second, it seemed like Klaus would actually move—
But then he stopped.
And smiled.
"No… not yet."
He stepped back, thoughtful.
"If you're protecting someone… that person matters."
Gloria nodded slightly.
"And important people always leave traces."
Rebekah crossed her arms.
"Then we follow the trail."
Klaus looked at Stefan one last time, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"And when I find the necklace…"
A pause.
"I sincerely hope you don't mind what I do to get it."
Stefan didn't respond.
But his expression said everything.
And in that moment—
the game stopped being about magic…
And became about who would break first.
---++----
"Well… looks like my dear father is back in town," I said, sensing the smell and aura of an abomination—two opposing scents in a single being.
"Are you going to expose him?" Bonnie asked as I fed blood to Katherine, letting it drip over my hand.
"Not yet," I replied, annoyed at her making a mess. "There's a perfect moment for that."
"When?" Bonnie asked.
"Doesn't matter right now," I said lightly, cleaning my hand. "Did you know there's a Nazi group experimenting on vampires?"
Bonnie froze.
"You're joking, right?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief—and anger.
"No," I continued. "And some people in town are connected to them. The council has ties… like Elena's parents did."
Bonnie's expression hardened.
"There's a vampire who's been suffering experiments there for a long time," I went on. "I'm thinking about ending it."
"Then let's go now," Bonnie said, her eyes turning black with magic. "Let's destroy those bastards."
Damn… she's getting stronger.
And her magic is starting to affect her body.
That could be a problem.
I'll have to talk to my mother about this soon.
"Not now. We need to build a task force," I said with a sigh. "Other factions are backing them."
That wasn't a lie.
The three factions were a powerhouse in the West because of our unique physiology.
Even if we weren't united… the world saw us as one.
And everyone wanted to understand why we were so powerful.
Most non-mythological monsters are created when Alpha werewolves bite humans.
Vampires have their own kind of magic—something no one truly understands. They don't weaken with time. Aside from my bloodline, which depends on potential, all others grow stronger as centuries pass… up to a limit of about a thousand years.
But how many vampires actually reach a thousand?
And witches…
Witches can use natural magic with no real consequences—as long as they stay within their limits.
They can even create creatures like werewolves through magic, and access multiple branches of it—while other races are limited to just one.
Their only real weakness…
Is having a human body.
"But this is an attack on us—we can destroy them," Bonnie said angrily. "Everyone blames the Bennetts for everything any vampire, witch, or werewolf does… so we should respond when our people suffer at the hands of others."
Good.
She's been studying.
She understands her role now.
My mother—a mortal who ascended through her own power—is, in theory, the god-king of the three factions.
And we, the Bennetts, are their political representatives.
We carry the responsibility for everything—good or bad—done by vampires, werewolves, and witches.
"Bonnie, of course we're going to end them," I said calmly, taking her hand. "But if we don't know who's funding them… we'll only destroy one base, not all of them."
"But if they figure out how vampire magic works…" Bonnie said, worried. "If they copy it, they could attack us."
"Don't worry," I said with confidence. "That's impossible. Only one in a thousand vampires ever awakens that magic. Facing your own trauma isn't something most are willing to do. And vampire magic comes from the soul—just like an Alpha's bite or a witch's magic."
I paused.
"You can't copy a soul."
A slight smile.
"Not even gods can. Imagine scientists."
It was a difficult argument, but in the end, I convinced her.
Bonnie finally agreed to follow my plan.
I made a call.
"(Slater. Time for you to be useful.)"
"(Ohh, Mr. Bennett… what do you need?)"
"(Use your network. Find out who's funding the Augustines.)"
The line went silent for a few seconds.
But this time… it wasn't calculation.
It was submission.
"(What exactly do you want me to look for?)" Slater asked, his voice more restrained than usual.
No irony.
No games.
Just obedience.
I leaned lightly against the wall, glancing at Bonnie.
"(A group… the Augustines.)"
Silence.
Real this time.
"(Never heard of them.)"
Of course not.
I smirked slightly.
"(You will.)"
Bonnie watched me closely, trying to understand how far this was going.
"(Give me a starting point)," Slater said.
"The town council," I replied. "Old connections. Strange donations. Anything out of place."
A pause.
"Especially… names that shouldn't be connected."
"(Got it…)" he murmured.
Then—
"(How much time do I have?)"
"You already know the answer."
Silence.
Heavy.
"(…Right.)" he finally said. "(I'll start now.)"
Before he could hang up—
"Slater."
"(Yes?)"
"Don't be seen."
A pause.
And for the first time…
a hint of fear slipped through.
"(I never am.)"
The call ended.
Silence filled the room again.
Bonnie spoke first.
"He has no idea what he's getting into."
"Better that way," I replied.
She frowned.
"How is that better?"
"Because people who know too much… hesitate," I said, stepping away from the wall. "And we don't have time for hesitation."
Bonnie crossed her arms.
"Or he dies without even knowing why."
"That too."
She looked at me, clearly irritated by the coldness.
But she didn't argue.
"When it's ready, call me," Bonnie said before walking out, still annoyed—but mature enough now to understand that sometimes being cruel protects more than being kind.