Davina was waiting at the safehouse when I returned.
She'd been painting again—a massive canvas this time, covering an entire wall. It showed the Bayou at twilight, wolves emerging from shadows, a figure standing at the center with arms spread wide.
That figure was me.
"You made a deal with Klaus," she said without turning.
"I did."
"About me."
"About protecting you. Yes." I moved closer, watching her work. "He agreed to leave you alone."
Davina's brush stilled. "Just like that? Klaus Mikaelson, the most dangerous vampire in existence, just... agreed to leave me alone because you asked?"
"Because I negotiated. There's a difference."
She turned to face me, and I saw something new in her eyes—not fear, not gratitude, but something fiercer. Determination.
"I don't want to be hidden forever," she said. "I don't want to be protected like some... some precious thing that might break. I want to live. Really live. In the world, not hiding from it."
"You're ready for that?"
"I'm ready to try." She set down her brush. "You've given me choices I never had. Now I want to make one. I want to go back to the Quarter. See the city. Meet people. Be... normal."
"Normal doesn't exist for witches who survived the Harvest."
"Then be whatever comes next." She stepped closer, meeting my eyes. "But not hidden. Not protected. Living."
I looked at her—this girl who'd died and come back, who'd painted herself free, who was now choosing to step into danger because safety wasn't enough anymore.
"Okay," I said. "But I'm coming with you."
"I expected nothing less."
She smiled—real smile, full smile, the kind I'd been trying to coax from her for months.
And for a moment, standing in that cabin surrounded by her paintings, I felt something I hadn't felt in thousands of realities.
Hope.