Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

>> 25th AUGUST 2029

That magical signature—so achingly familiar, so profoundly comforting—washes over you like a tide. Your shoulders relax instinctively.

“Enough. All of you are acting like children,” Josie snaps from the porch, clutching the rail to steady herself. Pale and visibly drained, there's something undeniably different about her. Power pulses around her, a deep-rooted, resonant magic that wasn't there before.

You reach out with your senses. Oh . It worked.

The werewolf magic. The vampiric magic. You feel them, coiled inside her now. You glance between Davina, Freya, and Josie, a grin tugging at your lips. “It worked?”

Freya nods, mirroring your smile. “It worked, brother.” She drifts toward Rebekah, whispering a gentle spell as she lifts your sister with careful telekinesis, floating her limp form into the house.

In a blur, you're at Josie's side, pulling her into a fierce hug. “And you, little siphoner? How do you feel?”

“Good.” She clings to you, voice muffled in your shoulder, but steady . “Stronger. More powerful. I can feel it— our magic —in my veins.” She pulls back, eyes sparkling like stormlight. “We’ll need to test it, but it’s there. And I can still siphon, Kol,” she adds quickly, as if reading the thought from your mind.

Relief floods you. And now that you focus on it… Yes, you can  feel her. Her supernatural presence resonates within the Mikaelson bloodline, humming like kin— the tether in your bloodline now tied to her. 

Freya feels like a Mikaelson witch should—raging wildfire and whirling tornado. Nik feels like the ocean: steady, forceful, a witch’s magic muted by dormant werewolf instincts. Yours? A thunderstorm—lightning and blood. Pure chaos.

Josie, though… Josie is something new. An inferno. A black hole. A strange, swirling gravity of dark magic, fury and transformation.

Something hasn’t settled yet. Likely the vampire or werewolf magic—maybe both.

“What the fuck—Josie, get away from them!” Elizabeth shrieks, sprinting for the porch—only to slam headfirst into an invisible wall.

Ouch.

You’re sure she’d sense it if she weren’t panicking… You pause, well, Josie would have probably sensed it even if she was panicking. 

Josie blinks, expression unchanged. Her gaze scans Alaric with distant coolness, then Gilbert, then Lizzie—just now staggering to her feet—Caroline, and finally Bonnie.

“Kol,” Josie says softly. “Do you mind?”

You sigh, letting the barrier drop and dispersing the roiling clouds above. The lightning trap grounds itself into the earth with a hiss. You give her a small smile. “As you wish, little siphoner.”

Wait. You need a new nickname for her now, don’t you?

“All  of them, Kol,” Josie says, leveling you with a look.

Grinning wider, you drop the immobilization spell on Alaric and Caroline. 

Your arm wraps around Davina as your magic settles. Hers wraps with yours, threads stretching through the bloodline, your rings, and your magical bond with each other, then towards Josie in support.

Bonnie pushes herself up, wide-eyed. “Josie, you’re on their side?”

Josie doesn’t flinch. “On my family's side, yes.” She rests her hands on the porch rail, every inch of her radiating calm power and steadiness. “I am a Mikaelson, after all.”

Pride flares in your chest at the ease and confidence with which she says it– at the certainty in her voice. 

You are glad that she’s accepted it, because she is. 

Now more than ever.

Rebekah would be glowing with pride.

Elizabeth looks gutted. “No, you're my sister—”

“Was your sister,” Josie says, voice cold and final. “Not anymore.”

Elizabeth recoils, and you feel a sharp flicker of satisfaction.

Josie turns to Caroline. “So. Why are you here?”

Caroline steps forward, trying to come up to the porch, “Josie, we’re here to take you home–” Marcel stands in the middle like a guardian, a menacing look on his face… at least he is good for something. Caroline hesitates, then looks up. “You don’t belong with them–”

“The one person I belonged to is lost in the universe. My soulmate, Hope Andrea Mikaelson.” Josie’s voice trembles with restrained fury, shadows gathering like smoke around her. The rest of you stay silent. This is her moment, and she needs closure. None of you can interfere in this. “And you took the only  thing I had left of her.”

Bonnie steps forward. “It was an accident—”

The world collapses into night.

The stars vanish. Moonlight is swallowed whole. Darkness presses down. Shadows flood the clearing, and a dense, suffocating pressure settles over you, magic so heavy it pulls at your bones.

You parse the effects and spells. It’s a light absorption barrier, layered with a dark-magic dissemination field and a pressure spell. 

Effective.

Josie stands taller, framed in writhing shadow that hisses and pulses with arcane energy. 

The tendrils slither like sentient smoke, flickering with violet and obsidian sparks, twisting around her form as though alive and reverent. Every breath she takes pulls the darkness tighter to her, like a living shroud of fury and power barely held in check. “From the moment I met Sheriff Donovan, I knew you never respected my choice to leave. But chasing me down?” Her voice is silk over razors. “Idiotic.”

The magic coils tighter, shadows thick with menace. Josie straightens. “And then I find out that titanium doesn’t break accidentally in magic.”

Bonnie’s face drains of color… She opens her mouth—but screams instead. Shadows erupt from her throat, writhing like black serpents, hissing and twisting in midair. 

The temperature drops in a flash. You see everyone’s breath crystallize. 

The magical pressure thickens into choking fog, sparking with bursts of violet and black.

Even you  blink at that. 

It’s some kind of expulsion hex, fused with shadow solidification? You’re not even sure. But you’re impressed.

You’ll be asking her about that later on.

“You broke my connection with Hope on purpose ,” Josie whispers, voice barely above a whisper—but it carries. Echoes all around the clearing, “You shattered my talisman—a gift from my soulmate—on purpose. And now you have the audacity to lie to my face and say it’s an accident!?”

The trees tremble. The sky crackles.

“I should kill you where you stand,” Josie declares, firm and unflinching. “But I think I’ll settle for an aneurysm—and a slow choke on your hypocrisy .”

Alaric lunges upright, glaring. “Can’t you see it’s better this way? You don’t have to be tied to that monster—”

Everyone flinches. Josie, too.

But not from weakness.

No. From rage. Deep, volcanic, righteous rage that makes her entire body pulse with the urge to destroy.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t blame her if she did.

Before any of you can react, Alaric cries out in agony. A sickening series of cracks and snaps echo across the clearing.

“Oh, I already knew what you thought about Hope, Ric,” Josie snarls, her voice cold and cutting. Another trio of sharp snaps follows, his arm contorting at an unnatural angle. Five jagged bones pierce through his legs—two of those were your handiwork, the other three hers. His right hand dangles grotesquely, dislocated and shattered.

“I had some pretty patricidal thoughts about that,” Josie continues, “but I held off… because your daughter still needs her father.”

You watch her, the corner of your mouth lifting in something close to pride. Handling herself with power and precision—clearly, evil fathers are a generational curse in the Mikaelson family. You all had Mikael. And now, Josie has Alaric.

The earth beneath Alaric cracks open with a dull groan, as tendrils of shadow rise like vines, slithering up his legs. They look almost gentle— almost —but their grip is ruthless. Even you wince as they constrict, bulging the veins along his arms and neck, draining color from his face.

Then the screaming starts again. His bones twist and buckle, reshaping in ways nature never intended. The sound is raw, stomach-turning, more animal than human as his body contorts—even for someone like you, centuries-deep in gore and bloodshed.

His ribs crack, spine bends, joints shred… and through it all Josie looks calm.  

Unflinching at the brutal violence of it all. 

None of your family intervenes. Why would they? You approve . You have seen and heard his rhetoric, and… he should have died a long time ago. 

Marcel smiles. Freya and Davina look uncompassionate to Alaric’s condition. 

But no one steps forward to stop her.

Caroline finally does try to stop Josie, rushing toward Alaric. “Josie, stop it! This isn’t you!”

“Oh, but it is,” Josie breathes, stepping down from the porch with all the calm of a storm. “You made me this, Caroline. You, Alaric, Bonnie, Lizzie—all of you.”

Elizabeth’s face hardens, twisting into something between hurt and fury. “What is wrong with you, Josie? My twin wouldn’t be torturing our father! He’s our father, and you’re killing him!”

Your own temper flares instantly. Gaslighting . They’re going to try to make her feel guilty for defending herself. 

But Davina beats you to it. “What is wrong with you?” Your wife demands. “Alaric just called Josie’s soulmate a monster—and you’re still defending him? Do you even hear yourselves?” Davina gestures to Bonnie and Alaric, “Trust me, this is nothing compared to what all of us Mikaelsons—including Josie now—are capable of…” Davina pauses to give Josie a soft understanding smile, then turns back to Lizzie and Caroline, “Josie is going easy on you. And you should be grateful it’s not me, Freya… or for your sake, not Kol .”

You feel a thrum of pleasure curling around your spine at that. Yeah, your reputation is well developed, and seeing your wife use it as a threat is… oh, you certainly will be taking her to bed tonight… 

You glance at Josie’s soft, but appreciative face. 

…after all of this mess is resolved. 

You take a glance at the others. Caroline and Lizzie are in the middle of the clearing, looking confused, angry, frustrated, afraid, and a dozen other emotions besides. Gilbert is dead… and oh, him dying at your hand soothes a part of you that had been thrashing around inside ever since your first death. 

Bonnie’s condition is deteriorating fast—She’s barely upright, leaning on a tree, coughing up darkness and blood, smoky shadows spilling from her mouth. 

Alaric… looks like a cursed revenant. 

You remember suddenly, that you’d performed a blood eagle  back in the 1200s—on a werewolf Alpha who preyed on a coven under your protection. 

Alaric looks decidedly worse . 

“Josie,” Caroline pleads again, this time more forcefully. “Stop this.”

Josie shakes her head, jaw clenched. “I already told you I would defend myself. That I’d fight back if you pulled something stupid as fuck   again. Did you think I was bluffing!?” Josie snapped back. She exhales, voice dark. “Well, if you were, then don’t blink Mom. You’ll miss me murdering your friend and my father for what–”

“Josie.” Freya’s voice cuts through, calm but firm.

Josie stops.

The porch goes silent, the air tight with unspoken violence.

Josie’s gaze snaps to Freya. “What?”

Freya meets her eyes, silent. Her expression is soft, filled with understanding and a gentle plea. You know exactly what she’s asking. Part of you agrees—Josie shouldn’t have to trigger her werewolf curse by killing someone she once loved. That kind of guilt sticks. Forever.

And still… a darker part of you disagrees. Alaric may not be undead, but he’s just as toxic, just as dangerous… Alaric is no better than Mikael ever was. And in a world where Mikael had hunted you all down because he’d been alive too long, sometimes there is no room for forgiveness. Some people don’t deserve to walk away.

You know this all too well.

Josie exhales sharply, dragging her gaze back to Caroline, Elizabeth, and Bonnie. “Fine. We’ll talk inside.” Then her eyes land on Alaric, who is barely conscious anymore. “You, however, should be grateful the Mikaelsons are here to stop me. Otherwise, you’d  be my first kill.”

You blink in surprise. That… wasn’t something you expected her to admit out loud.

Before you can process it, she glances at Bonnie. “Or maybe you, Bonnie. I actually planned  for it.”

Wait. 

That… that was the real reason why she’d insisted on activating the werewolf curse alone? Not fear of your disapproval—but vengeance?

Not that you’re judging—rather you’re actually supportive —but… 

You suppress your questions for now. You’ll ask her later. 

Josie lifts her hand toward Alaric, her voice smooth and dark, carved from stone. “Sanguinem comburere, eum refrigerare.”

Oh, that was a nasty bit of magic. 

It didn’t just target blood—it cycled it. Heating it. Cooling it. Over and over. A painful, looping punishment that simmers under the skin like boiling tar, then chills to ice.

Agonizing. Non-lethal. Brutally effective.

Alaric collapses with a strangled groan, his back arching sharply, neck cords snapping taut as if hooked by invisible strings. He writhes in the dirt, convulsing, fingers clawing into the earth, nails raking through the grass and tearing at the soil like he can dig the pain out.

“What did you do!?” Elizabeth screams, flinging herself beside him, frantic hands skimming his body.

None of you move to help. Not you. Not Davina. Not Freya. Not Marcel, and not even Keelin, who had no doubt heard all of this from the house. 

Because this isn’t an execution. It’s a reckoning.

Pain with purpose. And if Josie decided Alaric needed to suffer, you trust her judgment.

Caroline whirls on her daughter, furious. “Josie! Remove the spell!” Her eyes flick across your faces, desperate, accusatory.

“No.” Her tone is sharp and low. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch as her father convulses a few feet away. “He deserves that and more—for what he said and did to Hope. But don’t worry. It won’t kill him. It’ll just make him very, very uncomfortable. Once we’re done talking, I’ll remove it. Then you can take him back to Salvatore—or wherever the hell he crawled out of.”

Elizabeth glares, cheeks blotched red, trembling with fury and disbelief. Then she drops to her knees beside Alaric again, magic surging violently. “Screw that!” Her hands glowed red, a sign of her trying to siphon magic. 

Trying to undo the pain. Trying and failing.

Of course it fails. 

Josie didn't enchant his blood—she hexed his entire system. No siphoner, like Elizabeth or Josie, would be able to siphon that magic back.

The only way to break/remove that, was to cast the counter spell.

Lizzie growls, her magic flaring hot and frantic again.

Still nothing.

You still don’t understand how there’s this large of a skill and magical education gap between Josie and Lizzie. With even basic training, Lizzie should know how to recognize and dismantle a spell like this. Any halfway decent witch could. But she’s clueless.

“That won’t work, Lizzie,” Josie sighs. “The spell already triggered a physical reaction. The magic has expired. Any magic you siphon from him won’t undo the effect—because the magic isn’t there anymore. It’s like trying to pull water from a rock. Someone has to cast the counter spell.”

Elizabeth glares at her, tears brimming in her eyes. “Then cast it!” She shouts. “He’s our father —!”

“Your father,” Josie replies, calm as a blade, “Not mine.”

And there it is—Lizzie’s expression shatters, her lips parting like the words just slapped her. You can feel  her unraveling.

The air stills.

Josie finally turns to Caroline, her voice sharpening. “The sooner we talk, the sooner I’ll cast the counter spell for both Alaric and Bonnie.” Her gaze hardens. “So. Are you going to stand here all day, or come inside?”

Caroline steps toward the porch, but Josie stops her cold. “Mom.” But the word is hollow. “You’re a vampire. I won’t be inviting you in. You can wait at the door. Help your friends—Bonnie, Ric, and Gilbert. Lizzie can come inside.”

Caroline’s expression doesn’t shift, but her jaw sets. She glances back—at Alaric writhing in pain, Bonnie unconscious and suffering, Jeremy already dead—then gives a curt nod.

Lizzie barely spares a glance at the others. Her glare travels up the porch like she’s surveying enemy territory—disgusted, betrayed. But when her gaze finally lands on Josie, the mask falters. Her expression cracks under the weight of it all: pain, fury, confusion, helpless love tangled in one breath.

“I’ll check on my dad, then.” Lizzie mutters, voice splintered. “Then I’ll come in.” She turns on her heel sharply.

Josie stands stiffly, as if her whole body is strung together by sheer willpower. 

But Josie nods once, composed. “Sure. Come in when you’re ready.” A pause. A subtle withdrawal in her voice. “Or don’t.”

She turns, heading back toward the house.

Josie’s almost to you when her foot catches on the edge of the rug. She stumbles—

“Josie!” You catch her before she falls, steadying her with ease. Her arm slips across your shoulder, the weight of her body leaning into yours. She’s warm, but she’s trembling. 

That’s what hits you first. Not her magic or her strength—just how unsteady she feels.

“Are you okay?” you murmur, your voice instinctively gentle.

Her gaze lifts—slowly.

For a split second, they shift—deep obsidian brown darkening into something almost molten: Amber, with flecks of red glowing like embers caught in shadows. 

Then the fire is gone, blinked away. 

Josie shakes her head slowly. “I’m tired, Kol,” she breathes. Her voice is barely there. “And angry.”

Her fingers twist into your shirt, hold tight, then slowly release. She exhales, unsteady. “I just need to sit. The spell… it took more than I expected. Even with help.” Her eyes flick to Freya and Davina. “Thanks, by the way.”

You nod in silence and help her inside. Her weight leans heavily against you, her breath shallow as you guide her to the couch. 

You ease her down onto the couch, slow and careful. She sags into it with a quiet groan, her body folding inward. “Any other symptoms?” you ask softly, casting a quick magical scan over her, checking her over mentally and magically.

Josie leans her head back, eyes closed. “Headache,” she says after a pause. “Really bad. Everything hurts.”

Josie pauses, her face contemplative, then… “But the twin bond is gone.” Her voice is quiet. “I don’t feel Lizzie anymore.” 

Magic hums faintly as a sound barrier clicks into place.

“And…” her voice grows raspy. “My throat’s burning. I think… I think I turned.”

Silence.

All of you freeze.

Oh.

You glance toward Marcel, who’s already moving, vamping swiftly toward the kitchen for a glass of blood— 

“No, not right now, Marcel.” Josie’s voice cuts through the stillness—soft, but firm. She doesn’t open her eyes. “I’ll finish after they leave. Ten, twenty minutes won’t change anything.” She shifts slightly to look at you. “I don’t want them to know.”

You exhale quietly, nodding in reluctant agreement. “Alright.”

Marcel doesn’t protest. Just sighs, his frustration barely masked as he returns—not with blood, but a glass of cold water.

You kneel beside Josie, lifting it gently to her lips. “If not blood, then at least this.”

She doesn’t protest, just drinks. Slow and careful, her hands weak around the glass. 

“We knew this might happen,” you murmur. “This wasn’t going to be easy. You shouldn’t have used dark magic—not this soon.”

You still don’t know how she even could , mid-transition. From the glances Freya and Davina exchange, neither do they.

Josie’s lips tilt—just slightly. A tired, wry curve. As if she’d expected your question. 

“I didn’t,” she admits. “Not really. I just… channeled what was already there. In my blood.” Her gaze flickers to you. “Both are fading. Fast. I can’t do anything else. Not unless I finish the transition.”

Right. That made sense. 

You nod, reaching up to brush her forehead with your fingertips. Cool. Not fevered.

“Well,” you say, trying to sound reassuring, “No fever. That’s good. Magically, I don’t sense anything wrong—at least not from the spell. Once you complete the transition and get some sleep, you should be okay by tomorrow.”

She nods, but it’s faint, like she’s struggling to hold herself together.

The barrier dissolves with a soft shimmer of air.

And then the door creaks open.

Elizabeth walks in, magical shields shimmering faintly around her like a second skin—reactive, defensive, uncertain. Her gaze scans the room before snapping to Josie—eyes narrowing. “What the hell happened to you?” She demands, words sharp with disbelief. “You look like death chewed you up and spat you out. And not in a good way.”

Josie lets out a weak laugh, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Gee, thanks, Lizzie. That really makes me feel better.” She presses a hand to her forehead, her voice thin with exhaustion. “It’s called consequences. You know, what happens when you do powerful magic.” She huffs. “And if there’s a good way to look like death chewed me up and spat me out, I guess you’d be the expert, huh?”

You can say, with some certainty considering that you’ve died twice, that there is no good way to look like death just spat you out. 

Elizabeth scoffs. But her tone shifts—mocking, defensive. “Obviously. You should wear something better than just black. Goth you is so not your style, Josiemort–”

The thin veneer of calm snaps from Josie instantly, as she surges. “And what do you know about–” She pulls back with a low wince. Josie grits her teeth and leans back against the couch, shaking her head. “Forget it.” She mutters, her eyes closing as if blocking her sister out entirely.

You’ve heard her talk about this dynamic before, in tired little fragments. But seeing it now, raw and real—it’s worse .

Is this how her relationship with Elizabeth had always been? A constant toxic back-and-forth of barbed words, criticisms, and unspoken expectations? Josie always forced to swallow her retorts, bury her feelings beneath the weight of it all, forced to bear the brunt of her sister’s domineering personality?

Elizabeth’s jaw tightens. She doesn’t back down, glaring at Josie and all of you. “No. Why should I forget it?” She snaps. “Because I'm right? You’re just acting like Anakin Skywalker trying to be Darth Vader, but with dark magic instead of the dark side. And just because you think Hope’s dead doesn’t mean you get to—”

You inhale to cut her off, but Josie beats you to it with a scoff. “First Voldemort, now Vader ? Decide which villain you want me to be, Lizzie.”

You murmur a pain-relief spell under your breath, Davina helping, Freya watching with a conflicted look. Josie’s shoulders ease. Her breath steadies.

Her eyes meet yours—dark, tired, grateful. “Thank you,” she whispers. 

You squeeze her hand.

Before you can say anything, Marcel speaks up—voice low, measured, but unmistakably threatening. “You should be careful what you say Lizzie. And all of us here care for Josie as one of our own, and we won’t tolerate you speaking to her like that–” 

“Marcel.” Josie’s voice is barely audible, but it cuts through the room. She shakes her head gently. “Don’t. Just…”

Elizabeth’s expression shifts for the first time. Something flickers behind her eyes—uncertainty, concern. “What spell was it?” she asks, voice softer, like she’s only just realizing something’s wrong. “Why can’t I feel you anymore?” Her gaze sharpens again. “It felt like something… tore through me.” Her voice cracks around the edges. “Whatever spell you just did, did you even think what that would do to me?”

It comes out of her before she can stop it—pain bleeding into accusation.

Josie just lets out a quiet breath, shaking her head… and you see the pain in her face, covered by a self-deprecating smile she gives to her sister. “Of course, I thought about it, Lizzie. I always think about you, even when you don't give a damn about me." 

And that’s true—she’d thought of her sister even when suggesting the solution to save herself and remove the Merge curse.

Elizabeth stiffens. Guilt crosses her face like a shadow, but it’s swallowed quickly by another rising wave of emotion. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, it never is,” Josie replies, turning her head away. Her eyes close again—not just out of exhaustion this time— She’s tired. Not just physically and mentally, but tired of the argument. Tired of fighting. Tired of being the one who always has to justify her existence. 

So she’s retreating . She’s pulling back, shutting down. 

You recognize that instinct. You’ve done it too many times yourself.

Freya looks torn. Marcel and Davina glance over from where they’re helping Rebekah, their expressions tight. Keelin’s quiet beside Josie, her hand still hovering protectively.

Josie sits up a little straighter, her voice flat now. “If you really want to know… we solved the Merge.” She glances at you, then Keelin. “Mostly. We still need to confirm it, but the curse should be gone. At least for me and you.”

“What?” Lizzie breathes, barely audible. Her brows draw together, head tilting slightly—confusion first, raw and instinctive. Then comes disbelief, her lips parting like she’s about to speak again but can’t find the words.

And for the smallest heartbeat, you swear you see something fragile flicker in her eyes— hope .

But it dies quickly.

You watch it snuffed out, replaced by the tightening of her jaw, the pull of her mouth downward. Pain hardens into something sharper, and when she finally speaks again, the words are laced with heat. “You what?” Lizzie bursts out, voice pitching higher. “Is that why I can’t feel you? You severed our twin bond—to fix the Merge? And you don’t even know if it worked?!”

The room stills.

The silence is suffocating.

Uh… 

It seems you’re not the only one who’s shocked, because really?

Someone—her sister of all people—told her that there wasn’t a death sentence in her future… and this is the reaction? Anger? 

You catch Freya’s eye, both of you tense, the air around you coiling tight.

Because… 

Josie doesn’t flinch at the volume. She just goes utterly still, her face shows more than surprise—it’s something raw, wounded… and beneath that, resignation . Like she’d been bracing for this the moment she opened her mouth.

Something in your chest twists darkly.

She just died to solve the Merge, or turned into a vampire without dying… or you’re really not sure how she’s in transition right now, regardless of the why or how of it all, this is her sister’s first response?

“Elizabeth,” Freya says, voice warning now. “Watch your tone.”

But Lizzie’s already spiraling, pacing with wild gestures. “You just decided to cut off our bond—like it’s nothing? Like I wouldn’t feel it? It was like being ripped in half, Josie! And you don’t even know if it worked?” Her voice cracks, pain bleeding through the fury. “What if it fails? What if we still have to Merge, only now the bond is gone ?”

Then comes the real blow: “Did the Mikaelsons tell you to do this?!”

Josie’s reaction is small—a flicker, a tiny flinch—but you see it. Everyone does.

Lizzie rounds on you all like you’re the villains here, but her rage feels misplaced. Wild. Fear-driven. “You forced her!?” Her heated gaze swings back to Josie then, “Why the hell are you staying with them, then!?” Elizabeth shouts, the words crackling with intensity. 

When Josie doesn’t answer, Lizzie whirls around at all of you, “She’s my  twin!” 

There’s an… almost possessive edge to her voice then that makes you slightly uncomfortable, and Elizabeth continues, “You shouldn’t have told her to sever our twin bond, even if it could have solved the Merge!”

For the first time in a… long while, probably a few centuries, but you are at a loss for words. 

You don’t even know what exactly it is you feel—anger, yes, and concern and fierce protectiveness for Josie. But there’s also a sharp pang of hurt. Not your own hurt—Josie's. 

You see it in the quiet way she shuts down, in the way her face smooths into a perfect mask. 

You see it in the way she doesn’t even look surprised.

And that—that expectation—is the part that makes your blood run colder.

The others have gone still. 

Freya’s fury simmers in her eyes. Keelin is holding Josie’s hand tighter, her knuckles white. Marcel shares a glance with your wife, restrained rage clear in his posture—he looks one breath away from throwing Elizabeth out the nearest window.

Your wife’s not much better. You feel the coiled edge of a fire spell in the bond you share—strong enough to reduce Lizzie Saltzman to ash.

And you suppose you should be grateful Rebekah’s unconscious, because she’d already be halfway to tearing Lizzie’s throat out.

And Josie?

Josie doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Her expression is blank—but not numb. No, there’s a terrifying clarity in her eyes. 

Like she's reached some kind of terrible peace with this moment.

Then—

Josie laughs, a small, quiet sound that's eerily similar to your own when you've had enough of the world. 

It's a laugh born of exhaustion and resignation. 

It makes your heart ache to hear it. Especially from someone you love.

“Of course,” Josie says, voice low and shaking. “ That’s what you’d focus on.” Her gaze sweeps the room before landing on you, and for a flicker there’s a vulnerability in her eyes that digs into your chest. “I just fucking saved her life—saved both of us from dying in the future, from me killing her and absorbing her, or her killing me and doing the same—and this is her reaction. For a second, I actually thought she’d be happy I found a solution. But you know what? I’m not even surprised, Kol.”

The rawness in her voice makes the others shift uncomfortably. She doesn’t sound angry—not yet. Just… tired.

Then she turns fully to Lizzie, and that exhaustion sharpens into something dangerous. “You’re mad about the twin bond?” The words are soft, but cutting. “Really? That’s what you’re angry about? Not that I saved our lives. Not that I removed the curse so we won’t ever have to merge. So we won’t have to kill each other when we’re twenty-two. No —you’re mad because you don’t get to hold my hand through every goddamn feeling anymore?”

Lizzie flinches, hard. Her anger quickly dissipates, replaced by a look of shock as she realizes what she's said. “I…” Lizzie starts, voice faltering. “Josie, I didn’t mean—”

"Save it, Lizzie." Josie says. Her voice is final.

She looks past her sister, to the doorway where Caroline stands pale and silent, fury smoldering behind her eyes. “We solved the Merge, Mom. Or… I think we did. By next year, definitely before our twentieth birthday, it won’t be an issue. We did a spell, and it worked.” Her gaze snaps back to Lizzie, bitter and cold. “And this is why I didn’t want to stay at Salvatore. This . All of this. I needed space. I needed to breathe —away from all of you.”

“I see," Caroline’s expression softens, nodding. She looks pained and sad but still understanding for some reason. “Josie, I'm glad you’re safe.” Then her voice hardens. “Elizabeth. That was too far. Even for you.”

Lizzie’s anger falters under the words, confusion and guilt warring across her face, but Caroline silences her with a raised hand.

The silence is heavy. 

Keelin moves a fraction closer to Josie. Marcel folds his arms, still radiating disapproval. Freya’s jaw works like she’s biting back her own words. Davina, from what you can feel, is chanting in her head— Don’t burn her, don’t burn her, don’t burn her.

Elizabeth’s magic still crackles faintly at her fingertips, but the fire in her eyes has dulled to something hollow. She opens her mouth, shuts it again.

It’s Caroline who finally speaks. “Kol, Freya… is the part about the Merge true?”

Josie glances between you and Freya, some of the tension in her shoulders easing at the change in subject.

It's a safe topic. A neutral one. 

You give an imperceptible nod, your magic threading with hers. 

Josie breathes out slowly, nodding. “Yeah. It's true. We just did the spell half an hour ago. We think that is why mine and Lizzie’s twin bond broke, but we’re not sure. If it worked fully, it removed the Merge from the coven entirely. If not, it nullified it for our generation.”

Caroline processes this, then asks carefully, “So… you forced the Merge to skip to the next generation? Your children?”

“To Lizzie’s children,” Freya corrects evenly. “If she ever has them.”

Lizzie frowns, confusion cutting through her lingering anger. “How—what spell or ritual—”

“That’s for us Mikaelsons to know,” Josie interrupts, her tone deliberately creating distance.

The words are a match to dry kindling. Lizzie’s confusion burns away, anger flaring back to life. “Us Mikaelsons!? Don’t tell me you think you’re—”

“I am.” Josie cuts her off, glare sharp. “I meant it when I said it outside, and I mean it now.” Her tone is hard, firm and unyielding, “They’re  my family now. Not you, not Caroline, not Ric, Elena, Bonnie, or any of your little Mystic Falls gang.” Her tone softens as she glances toward you all. “I am a Mikaelson . Always and Forever.”

You can’t stop the smile that slips across your face. “Always and Forever,” you echo, as do the others.

Lizzie chokes, glancing between all of you, but especially glaring at Josie with a kind of incredulous disbelief and betrayed anger, “You’re serious!? You can’t just abandon-”

“If anything, you abandoned me,” Josie snaps, rising from the couch despite whatever pain she’s in. “You betrayed me—”

“You were and still are full of dark magic!” Lizzie shoots back, without any hesitation. “My sister, the one I knew, wouldn’t have tortured our father if she wasn’t compromised by dark magic! And what do you expect me to do–”

“You could have trusted me, Lizzie!” Josie’s voice cuts through hers, shaking but unrelenting. “Like I trusted you. With my nightmares. With my soulmate. You should have trusted that I knew what I was doing.”

Lizzie falters, but recovers enough to demand, “Do you? Know what you’re doing? You’re not influenced by dark magic right now? You don’t have any—”

“So what if I have dark thoughts?” Josie counters, voice dropping low and dangerous. “After everything all of you have done, I haven’t hurt you or anyone else you brought here lethally or in a way that they can’t recover in the future—despite my dark thoughts  wanting me to skin Bonnie alive, tear her muscles from her bones, strand by strand, until she’s a drooling dead mess on the floor .”

The shadows around her curl tighter, solid and black, answering the rage in her voice.

Well… that is a punishment.

Both Josie and Lizzie start to speak, but Gilbert wakes from his death-nap with a loud, ragged gasp.

Without a shred of self-preservation—or common sense—he storms inside, eyes wild with resurrection fury. Caroline intercepts him halfway through the doorframe, but he bulldozes through. “Jer, wait—” Caroline tries, voice urgent.

“You killed me!” Gilbert’s voice cracks between outrage and disbelief, the words spat like venom. His hands are trembling but armed—a vervain grenade clutched in one fist, a wooden stake gripped so tight his knuckles are white. 

You meet his accusation with a slow, deliberate smirk. “I did.”

It had felt… satisfying, in its own way. An eye for an eye and all that. 

The memory is still traumatic, sure, but it’s dulled slightly by the symmetry of revenge. 

You suspect you’ll sleep better tonight.

Josie’s attention locks on him. “You should be grateful Kol didn’t kill you permanently, Gilbert.” Her tone is cool steel, but there’s heat simmering beneath it. “And despite our previous ties, I know exactly what you, your sister, Bonnie, and your Mystic Falls gang have done. Don’t try to play innocent.” She tilts her head toward you, a faint, almost wicked smile curling her lips. “If Kol had made it permanent, I wouldn’t have blinked. In fact…” Her eyes glint, as flickers of red catch like embers in the light. “I think I would have helped.”

Lizzie stiffens, glancing between her twin and Gilbert, her brows pulling together like she’s trying to process if Josie’s joking.

Gilbert explodes instead. “Josie, how can you say that? They tormented us—”

“You think I don’t know my history?” Josie cuts in, voice sharp. “You and Elena killed Kol and Finn. Their entire sirelines—hundreds, maybe thousands of vampires—just to trigger your Hunter’s Mark. You should be grateful  that Klaus didn’t end you all afterwards.” 

You almost smile. All those stories you’d told her over casual lunches, half-expecting them to be filed away as curiosities, were clearly paying off. You don’t quite know how to label the feeling you get at her… impassioned defense, but it’s… nice?

Of course, you also know Klaus only stayed his hand because Elena Gilbert had been turned and there was talk of a cure. A cure that—idiotically—nearly unleashed Silas. And these same idiots had been part of that chaos.

Silas is dead now, the mess long since cleaned up. So, you won’t kill them over it, but you will still judge them for it. 

Josie hums, looking Gilbert over as if weighing something. A slow smile tugs at her lips. “I have half a mind to do it myself.”

Your brow arches. That… would likely trigger the werewolf curse since… 

Oh. 

Wait. 

Is that her intent? 

To trigger her curse without truly killing someone? A calculated way to take her measure of vengeance while sidestepping the moral fallout?

Huh.

Well, you certainly approve .

You give her a deliberate nod of encouragement. Across the room, Freya and Davina exchange looks, contemplative and thoughtful. Because yeah, this is one solution to activating the curse that you hadn’t actually thought about before… and considering that he did come back from death, the ring still works… somehow. 

So, this would work to activate Josie’s werewolf curse, but it does raise a question: where would he go after dying now?

Before the Other Side’s destruction, the ring would’ve sent him there. Now? Limbo. Or some other in-between place.

Hmm.

Lizzie exhales sharply, stepping between Josie and Gilbert like a barrier. "You don't mean that," she says, though uncertainty flickers across her face.

Josie's smile widens, revealing just enough teeth to be unsettling. "Wouldn't you like to know?" She glances up at you. "I wonder how long he'd stay dead this time."

You smirk. "Not long enough for me, Josie.”

Josie nods softly, “Fair enough.” Gilbert’s face turns red with fury as Josie makes a small, amused and thoughtful sound, her gaze flicking toward the ring on his finger. “Oh, hey—you brought your resurrection ring.” Her grin turns genuine as she glances toward your wife. “Sorry about him bouncing like a bad penny, Kol. But, Davina? You want to take a shot?”

Davina’s laughter is quiet and dangerous, curling like smoke after a fire around you– gods, that sound turns you on. “Gladly.” Davina gives you a wink, then turns to Gilbert and twists her right wrist, the air humming with power. 

There’s a sharp crack, the sickening sound of vertebrae snapping, and Gilbert collapses bonelessly to the floor.

Dead. Again. 

The urge to kiss your wife senseless is ruined by a sharp gasp. 

Lizzie’s. 

Lizzie’s eyes are wide, horror plain in them—a look you’ve seen on her before, and likely will again. “What happened to you, Josie?” She whispers, as if afraid the answer might be worse than she imagines.

Josie’s eyes sweep over Caroline, Lizzie, and Gilbert’s crumpled body. Her voice is low and certain. “You did. All of you. I just survived.”

“Josie.” You call softly, because this was just rehashing all the previous arguments.

Josie’s gaze drifts over to you, and she breathes out sharply. “Fine. You take over.” She sinks back on the couch, rubbing her forehead.

You sigh softly.

This was taking a lot longer than you’d thought. It is evident now that Elizabeth can’t be objective, so you address Caroline, “The Merge is solved. At least for this generation. Neither of your daughters—if you still consider Josie that—will have to undergo the Merge.” Caroline’s mouth opens to interject, but you cut through. “Josie, or any children she might have in the future, won’t bear this curse… because we removed her from the Gemini Coven.”

Lizzie gasps, confusion flashing across her face before indignation starts to build. “What?”

You turn to her. “Which leaves you, Lizzie, as the leader of the coven.”

“What does that mean!?” Caroline demands sharply, glaring at all of you. “You just removed Josie from her coven? That’s like ripping her magic out! For a normal witch, that’s—”

Really?

Not for the first time, you wonder what exactly they teach in that school. A witch without a coven still has magic—it’s not ripped out of them.

It just means they don’t have a coven anymore.

Freya doesn’t address that, instead picking up the explanation from you easily. “The Merge was a curse on the Gemini Coven. There are… a lot of steps involved in the process of deconstructing and circumventing the Merge, but one of them was to remove Josie from the Gemini Coven.” She looks at Lizzie. “The other steps are important too, but what is important for you to know is that we replaced that bond with a connection to the Mikaelson bloodline and magic. Magically speaking, you were born an only child. You inherit the coven now.” Freya gestures to Josie. “So… after the spell, Josie is  a Mikaelson, in all aspects, magical or otherwise.”

“You get to live your life however the hell you want, while I live my life however I want,” Josie comments blithely, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“What?” Lizzie mumbles, staring at Freya like the words are in a foreign language. 

Caroline doesn’t look any better, shaking her head, “That’s not possible.” Caroline turns to you then, as if you will say something different, “Kol?”

You roll your eyes. “It is.” You nod toward your sister. “Freya’s been working on this for decades. She found the solution. The three of us crafted the spell. We weren’t sure if the twin bond would survive past the spell or not, because it is a direct consequence of the curse itself.” You look at Caroline seriously. “It was drawing your daughters together for the Merge to happen. Not now, but in the future.”

“What?” Lizzie protests, shaking her head. “That’s not true—”

“And what do you know about the Merge, little witch?” you cut in, voice dripping with disdain. “You barely know your own spells.”

“Kol. Be nice.” Davina remarks softly, but her tone is cold. “That’s Josie’s twin.”

Josie blinks in surprise, then starts laughing softly. “Oh, you don’t have to be nice to her on my account, Kol.” She turns her gaze on Lizzie, eyes cold. “As far as you and I are concerned, I already told you that we’re done and that you’re not my family anymore. I’d hoped that would change, but… I guess it’s not going to be.”

Lizzie flinches as though struck, the hurt flickering into anger. “Josie! You can’t just—”

“Elizabeth, enough.” Caroline’s voice slices through, hard and commanding. Lizzie swallows her words, glaring. Caroline steadies herself with a breath, then looks to Josie. “Josie… you really fixed it?”

Josie nods once. “Yeah. We did. If you want the details… come back in two days. We’ll explain then. But not here. Not now.”

Caroline exhales, tension bleeding just enough to make room for relief. “Alright.”

You glance at Gilbert’s lifeless body, thoughts already churning. He’s not gone for good. The ring ensures that much.

Then you look at Caroline. “Stay here. Don’t move. We need to speak privately for a moment.” You shoot a charming smile at Josie. “Just us Mikaelsons. Excuse us.”

Before anyone can react, you flick your hand and draw a sigil in the air.

A shimmer hums around the group—a sound-nullification barrier snapping into place like an invisible curtain. Silence falls over the others outside. 

You turn to Josie, voice sharp and measured. “You should kill Gilbert. He’s wearing the ring—he’ll come back.”

Josie blinks. Then a slow, surprised laugh escapes her lips. “You want me to kill Gilbert so I can activate the curse... without actually killing anyone?” Her brow lifts, a grin forming. “That’s clever, Kol.”

She nods slowly, clearly considering it, then turns toward Freya and Keelin. “Are we sure that’ll work? Is it just the physical death that triggers the curse, or does the person have to stay dead?”

You frown. That’s… actually a very good question.

For all your centuries surrounded by witches and immersed in magic, you realize you’ve never really taken the time to dig deep into werewolf lore and magical framework.

You’d fix that when you have time. Actually sit down and research the werewolf species and spells.  

Freya folds her arms and frowns slightly. “From what I understand, it’s the death of the body that matters, not the soul inside. That’s one of the reasons we were able to substitute the werewolf curse during the Merge—it reacts to the vessel's death.”

Freya glances at all of you, nodding slowly. “It should be the act of killing—the death itself—that counts.”

Keelin adds firmly, “It’s the kill. And the body’s death. I knew an intern—untriggered werewolf. He gave the wrong drug during a procedure. The patient died for thirty seconds, and we brought him back… but the curse stayed active. He didn’t have to re-trigger it.”

You hum, intrigued. “So it’s just the act of killing that matters. Not whether the soul stays gone. Makes sense. Most souls don’t have the luxury of a resurrection ring like Gilbert here, or know/have enough magic to bring themselves back.”

Davina, standing nearby, hums softly. “Well, we could just wait for him to come back… and kill him again. For science.” There’s a wicked glint in her eyes that mirrors yours from lifetimes ago. Something that you see sometimes in yourself.

Josie looks between the three of you, a spark of genuine interest in her eyes. 

Freya nods in approval. “It would let you trigger the curse without carrying the emotional weight of a real, final death. Plus, Gilbert wouldn’t even remember the pain.”

Josie nods slowly, eyes gleaming now. “So if I kill Gilbert, my werewolf side wakes up… and he returns due to the ring. Simple. Two birds, one stone." Josie pauses, then turns to Marcel, of all people, “What do you think?”

Marcel gives her a long, level look. No surprise. Just curiosity. He’s used to these kinds of conversations by now.

He finally speaks. “I think we need to make sure the activation is permanent. That you won’t have to kill him again to keep it active.” His tone shifts—careful, curious. “And… I’ll preface this by saying that I’m not judging, and I’d rather support this. But were you actually planning on killing the Bennet witch?”

You blink, surprised. It’s a good question. If Josie already planned to kill Bonnie, this might all be a moot point.

Josie’s expression falters. Her mouth opens, then closes again. 

The magic around her hands stirs—inky tendrils of shadow laced with violet shimmer, curling over her fingers like restless thoughts. “I…” She hesitates, her voice low. “I don’t know. I’m angry. I want to. But I hate the thought of dragging it out. Of torturing them. Even when it’s justified, it feels wrong.”

You study her. There’s still mercy in her. Still kindness. She hasn’t been hollowed out by grief and rage the way you were. Not yet. 

Josie bites her lip, letting out a harsh breath, “I should just kill her and be done with it, but she lied to my face and… I just…” 

Yeah. You know exactly what she’s feeling. 

You step beside her and sit, your hand resting gently on her shoulder. “You don’t need to explain yourself. We understand.”

There’s a wave of quiet affirmations—nods from Freya, Davina, even Keelin.

Josie exhales, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “Alright. So my options are: Gilbert, who’ll revive and maybe trigger the curse... or Bonnie or Alaric. If I kill either of them, the curse definitely activates.”

Davina cuts in before you can. “Not Alaric.”

“Why not?” Josie asks, sharper than before.

“Because he’s your father,” Freya says gently, intently.

“Was my father,” Josie snaps back, too quickly, defensively. But her voice cracks. A soft edge behind the sharpness. She looks away. “If you saw the things he wrote about Hope…”

You do know. 

You’ve seen the pages– she’d shared it after one of your memory recovery sessions. You’ve read the condemnation, the veiled hatred dressed up as concern. The way he wrote about Hope—as if she were a weapon he’d forged and then hated for existing.

But still, you frown, because… oh how did this happen?

Have your stories done this? Had your bonding with her over blood, magic and training helped break her from that world… or simply shown her how broken it had always been? Had it pushed her into this?

Your face softens, as you take a knee in front of her, gently taking her hands. “Look at me, Josie.”

Her eyes rise to meet yours—dark and burning.

You continue softly, “You don’t need to kill someone from your old life to become a Mikaelson. You don’t need to, or have to prove anything—not to us. And don’t think for one second that hurting your parents is what makes you one of us— This family isn’t built on how much blood we spill.”

A pause.

“Well. It was.” You accept, but continue, “But we’re trying to change that. And that’s not the part of this legacy we want you to carry.”

Her eyes soften. The faintest glimmer of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

Then understanding flickers across her expression. Gratitude, too.

You keep going. “You don’t have to kill Alaric because you think it makes you more Mikaelson. That’s not what we want for you.” 

You squeeze her hands lightly. “Yes, we’ve all fought our parents. Mikael. Esther. But it was never a badge of honor. It hurt us—every time.” You take a breath, “And… For all that he’s done, he is your blood and he was your family in the past… and you don’t have to kill them, not if you don’t want to– not if you’re not sure .”

Josie swallows, her voice quiet now. “But the thing is… I am sure. What I did to him, torturing him, didn't hurt or make me feel bad. Not like I think it should have. And the thought of killing him doesn’t make me feel sick, or guilty or anything else.”

She glances around at all of you again. “And it’s not because of what you told me. Not really. I already knew who he was. A bad father. An raging alcoholic. Anger issues. The hypocrisy. The way he talked about supernaturals like they were monsters… even children, but–” She hesitates then, “He was my dad, and everything that he truly was, didn’t fully sink in. Not until…”

“Not until Hope?” You ask leadingly. 

Josie nods silently. “It was a stupid thing, but I’d turned a blind eye to… to everything that he was doing, because I was taking care of Lizzie. Because Caroline wasn’t there for us, regularly going on trips around the world to search for a cure for the Merge.” She admits quietly, glancing at both of your hands threaded by dark wisps with a purple gleam. “I saw everything, every single flaw, but I thought that the love he had for me, Lizzie, the school, and everything else would balance all of the bad.”

You swallow down whatever is lodged in your throat, because gods do you know how that feels. 

Every one of you—except Keelin and Marcel—know how that feels. 

Especially when it comes to parents. 

Josie continues, her words coming steadily but not without the crack of emotion beneath them. “But now... now I know how cruel he was to Hope. How he criticized and kept pushing her to be something that she never should have been, how he taught her that she wasn't worth being loved, or even tolerated... and that just…” She stops, taking a shaky breath. The shadows curl tighter around her fingers as her jaw clenches. “That hurts more than anything he ever did or didn’t do for me or Lizzie.”

Josie breathes in shakily. “And I think... I think part of me wants him to pay for that. Wants him to pay for hurting my soulmate, for everything that he did after she jumped or was thrown in Malivore.” 

Your throat tightens, the familiar ache of understanding creeping in alongside the fury you feel on Hope's behalf. Josie's grip on your hands tightens, and you can see the way her breathing is shallow, controlled—not because she isn't feeling something, but because she's choosing not to drown in it.

The room is still for a long moment. Even Davina and Marcel, who are usually more inclined to speak, keep their thoughts to themselves.

Freya watches Josie with gentle eyes, "You don't have to justify feeling hurt by his choices, Josie." she finally says. “And… what he did to Hope, it–” Freya glances around at all of you, “It’s not your fault. It’s ours . We should have recognized what he was doing far sooner and stepped in.”

Yeah. You should’ve. 

Gods, that still burns in your gut sometimes. 

Josie purses her lips, tears glimmering in her eyes. “It’s not yours either. It’s his . And as for Bonnie, I just…” Josie shakes her head, “I know I could kill either of them without feeling bad or guilty or anything really… because I know that I want to. But I don’t know if I would have chosen  to, if I didn’t have to kill someone to trigger my curse.” She pauses, glancing around at all of you, a small frown on her face, “Does that make sense?”

You nod slowly, your thumbs brushing over the back of Josie's hands. 

“It makes perfect sense." Your voice comes out rough, not just from the words, but from the emotion pressing against your ribs, because you’d felt this so many times throughout the centuries.

Sometimes against Esther for ripping away your magic, sometimes against the world for everything that you were experiencing, sometimes against Klaus when he was being particularly Klaus, and sometimes even against yourself because the void of magic had grown too heavy and you’d lost yourself in another orgy of sex, violence, blood and death. 

You know what it’s like to be on the edge. To stare down the person who made you bleed and wonder if justice or revenge would taste sweeter.

You feel a soft thread of concern and Davina’s magic curls gently around your soul—a comforting warmth that steadies you. But you meet Josie’s dark eyes that flicker red and amber, with soft understanding, “You want to hate him enough to kill him. But you don’t want to want to   hate him that much. And that’s the part that’s killing you." A bitter chuckle slips from your lips. "Fucked up, isn't it?"

Josie huffs a quiet, almost-laugh. "Yeah. Really fucked up." She exhales. The magic around her hands steadies, the purple glow no longer lashing but pulsing.

You stand, giving her a little space to breathe.

“The question,” You say, pacing slowly, the hardwood floor creaking under your feet. “isn’t whether it makes sense or whether we’d approve… because we would approve it and support you, if you really wanted to do that, but the question is… ”

You glance back at her, meeting her eyes squarely. “What do you want to do, Josie?"

None of the others really say anything, because they know that you’re the one who is closest to Josie in your family after Hope, and… 

Josie stares at you, searching your face for something—assurance, maybe. Or clarity. 

She releases a slow breath, shoulders straightening as if bracing herself for the answer. "I don't know," Josie says, her voice soft, vulnerable. “A part of me wants to believe he can change. That he can become the father that Lizzie and I—at least Lizzie—deserved. But another part…” Her jaw tenses, eyes darkening with a resolve laced in quiet grief. “Another part knows that’s just a fantasy. He won’t change. Even if he pretends, it won’t undo everything he’s done. Especially to Hope.”

Her voice catches on Hope’s name. A tear slips free and trails down her cheek before she wipes it away with a flick—swift, angry. 

Shadows around her fingers pulse in response to her emotions, swirling in a dark dance. 

Your own heart aches for her, for the pain and confusion that you see in her eyes.

"I don't know if I can look at him and see anything but the man who hurt and manipulated my soulmate.” Josie continues, “Who ignored me, ignored Lizzie. Treated every supernatural at Salvatore like a threat, because he’d had an Traveler-based anti-magic nullification field relic, installed in the school for years… and we were left without our powers when Triad came for us, and I got shot because I couldn’t use magic, and would have nearly died  if Hope didn’t figure out that her blood could heal bullet wounds caused by Malivore bullets.” 

What?

Her voice grows steadier, even as her words hit harder.

Josie glances around. “I know most of you probably know this already, but that’s how Hope’s blood bonded to me. I drank her Tribrid blood to heal the magical bullet wound that couldn’t be siphoned, because it was made of Malivore’s magic.”

Your mind reels. You knew. She had told you all. You read it in Hope’s thoughtbook. But you hadn’t truly connected the dots until now.

That was how it happened?

You clench your fist, hard enough that you feel your nails biting into your palm, anger licking through your veins like lightning. 

That son of a bitch. 

How dare he?

Freya, Davina, Marcel and Keelin’s faces show the same murderous rage… even Keelin, whose mercy usually steadies the rest of you.

Tomorrow, you swear to yourself, you’ll tear through every inch of Salvatore. You’ll make sure there’s not a single relic, not one anti-magic measure left behind by that bastard. Because even disregarding the fact that Josie might choose to go back, that’s a school  for young supernatural minds. Not a prison, dammit. 

You want to go there right now, confront him— fuck the consequences . Murder that asshole so hard that he won’t even go to Limbo. 

But you're still. Rooted.

Because Josie is looking at you.

Not with the same fury burning through your veins, but with something deeper. Something worn and raw. Hurt that seeps into every corner of her being.

“So… no, Kol,” She says quietly. “He might be my father, my blood… but he hasn’t been my dad for as long as I can remember. And after everything he’s done, he deserves to die. I know that. I also know I wouldn’t cry if he died tomorrow. I’d kill him if I had no other choice to activate my curse.” Josie pauses. “But there are other ways . Gilbert, for one. So I want to try those first… before I consider killing him or Bonnie in cold blood.”

You exhale softly, nodding. “Okay.” You glance at the others, then back at her. “What about going back to school? Do you still want to go back to Salvatore?”

Josie bites her lip. “I…” She hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“Are you sure?” Davina asks, no judgment or anger in her tone. “You could go to Mystic Falls.” Davina glances at Freya, who nods after a moment, “We could teach you the rest.”

Freya nods again, looking at Josie softly. “We just want you to complete your high school, it doesn’t have to be Salvatore. If you feel safer at Mystic Falls, then you can go there.”

“Or you could get a GED early,” Marcel says with a small, knowing smile. “Go to college.”

Keelin continues, “You said that your dream career is to be a doctor, so we want you to pursue that goal… and we’ll do whatever is in our power to help you, Josie.”

You all nod. The Merge is behind her—mostly. Now she has a future. A real one. She can chase whatever dream she wants. Become whoever she chooses.

Josie’s lips curve into a faint smile. “Thank you, but… it’s not about being safe.”

You don’t interrupt her, because you can tell that she needs this, needs to get all of this off her chest. 

She breathes out, “Me going to Mystic Falls is a risk . Once I transition, me being a newly created vampire in the middle of a ton of human kids?” Josie shook her head, “That’s too dangerous. When I go back to Salvatore… I’m not doing it for them. I’m doing it for me. Because I’ll be around vampires and other werewolves like me…” She pauses, looking contemplative, “Well, somewhat like me , and I’ll have you guys there at school to help me with… everything.” 

Josie bit her lip, glancing over all of you, “And Salvatore is  the best option, because in case the Malivore monsters start showing up again, it would mean that Hope’s… sacrifice didn’t entirely work. That something changed. If that happens, we’ll know first. And we’ll be there to protect the students, and figure out a way to get Hope out of the darkness.”

You smile gently, “We?” Because for all of her kindness and mercy, she’s still a fighter. 

Josie blushes slightly. “I want to help.”

Freya’s expression softens. “You can. But we’ll handle it, Josie.”

Josie looks ready to protest, but Freya holds up her hands placatingly, “I’m not saying this because I think you’re incapable or not effective in a fight. Right now, Rebekah, Kol and Marcel are our best physical fighters if there is a monster threat. Davina and I can fight, but we’re better at magic. Keelin can handle herself. But you? You need to learn how to control your vampire and werewolf sides before you decide to fight with us.” 

Josie blinks, then nods. “Yeah that’s– Yeah, okay.” 

You meet her gaze. “So… Salvatore? That’s your decision?”

“Yeah,” She confirms, this time without hesitation.

You nod. “Should we tell Caroline now? Or do you want to do it later? You asked her to come in two days.” Because you and every single member of your family would follow her lead on this… because this was her old family, and you don’t want to force her into anything. 

Josie pauses, thoughtful. “Um, send Lizzie out. She probably needs to cool off and process things.” Josie says softly, then turns to you intently, “And tell Caroline I’m going back… with conditions. I’ll kill Gilbert, and we’ll see if that activates my curse.” She shrugs. “If it doesn’t, then I guess we flip a coin on Alaric or Bonnie. But I want to activate the curse today.”

You snort. You’re not the only one who does. It’s a grim joke—but somehow, still funny.

Keelin speaks gently. “You should transition first, Josie. Then activate the curse. Otherwise, the kill might not count, not if the werewolf magic can’t awaken inside your body.”

You blink. She’s right. That was a detail you missed.

Josie nods. “Okay.” She looks between you, Marcel, and Freya. “Send Lizzie out. If she won’t go… use the sleep spell.”

Freya nods. “Sleep spell it is.”

Josie turns to you. “Take the barrier down.”

You drop the barrier. The magic fades like a breath exhaled.

Gilbert is awake now, sitting groggily on the couch. Lizzie and Caroline are speaking quietly. Bonnie and Alaric are still suffering from Josie’s spells.

You clap your hands once, loud enough to silence the room.

"Alright," You announce, voice sharp, commanding. "All of us had a chat and we've come to a decision." You turn to Lizzie, fixing her with a firm gaze. "Elizabeth, thank you for coming, but you're no longer welcome here. Please leave the house. Caroline will suffice."

Lizzie, halfway through a conversation with her mother, freezes mid-sentence. Her expression twists with disbelief, then fury. "What?" She snaps, eyes flashing as she turns to Josie. "Josie!"

You sigh, already tired of the inevitable reaction. “Freya?”

“Ad somnum.”

The magic ripples outward like a wave. You feel it pass through the room—calm, controlled, and final. 

Lizzie's eyes roll back, her body slumping.

You catch her telekinetically before she faceplants into the floor. Gilbert, however, you let hit the ground with a dull thud.

The others glance at Freya, who defends herself. “Gilbert would have run and that’s not any use to us.”

Fair enough. 

Caroline’s voice cuts in, wary now. “Josie? What’s going on?”

You glance at Josie, but she’s looking at you. “You wanna…?” You ask, because Caroline is her biological mother. 

Josie gestures to you to continue, as Davina telekinetically levitates Lizzie out of the room. Marcel sits Gilbert up on the couch, prepping him for slaughter. 

You step forward, keeping your tone even. “Josie’s agreed to return to Salvatore to finish high school. On a few conditions.”

Caroline frowns, glancing at her daughter, but nods, “What conditions?”

You meet her gaze without blinking. “Two Mikaelsons will be on campus at all times. We’ll teach classes if necessary, but this is non-negotiable. We’re there to protect Josie.”

Surprisingly, Caroline doesn’t argue. She glances between you and Josie, clearly conflicted but nods. “Okay. I can agree to that.”

A little tension eases from your shoulders. Progress.

You continue, “Second—Josie won’t be staying in the dorms. She’s living with us for the foreseeable future. That’s also non-negotiable, and you will respect that.” 

Caroline’s jaw tightens, just slightly. “That’s... that’s fine. She’ll always have a home with us, but after… everything, I understand.” She glances at Josie again, searching her daughter's face. “There's more, isn't there?"

You nod. “Third. The entire school will be searched for relics. Anything Alaric left behind during his tenure needs to be removed. Permanently.” Because you will not let an unwitting child come upon some dangerous artefact just because of Alaric’s incompetence and stupidity that bordered on evil. 

Caroline’s eyes widen, then she exhales and nods. “I’ve already started. Anything I could find, I got rid of. You’re welcome to check for anything I missed.”

That actually surprises you. You weren’t expecting that level of accountability. It seems that Salvatore actually has a good… ish, probably, headmistress now. 

You study her face. No deception. No deflection.

Just honesty.

You nod. “Good.”

Then your voice hardens, cutting through the air like a blade. “Fourth—if any of you harm Josie, threaten her, or try to manipulate her again, we’ll kill them. No warnings. No conversations. No hesitation.”

Caroline pales. You can see her understand—really understand—that you’re not bluffing. “Understood?”

Caroline flinches, but to her credit, she nods once. “I would never let that happen,” she says quickly. “I didn’t even know about Bonnie breaking the Talisman until after she did it. Alaric was the one who…” Caroline trails off, taking a breath. “If this is what it takes for Josie to come back, then fine. But I can’t let you kill students, Kol. I’ll warn the staff, but not the students.”

What?

Your face darkens, as your magic surges in response to that. 

What the hell does she think that you are!?

Before you explode, Freya steps in. “We won’t kill students,” she says calmly, but firmly. “But we won’t sit idle if someone comes after our family. Josie is ours now. Not yours. And we’ll protect her. And we don’t need permission for that.”

Caroline flinches like the words physically struck her. But she doesn’t argue. Not really. She just nods, her eyes dulling with resignation.

She’s been watching Josie slip away for a long time. This is just the final break.

After a pause, Caroline straightens, voice low. “Sleep spells and mind-wipes for students who threaten her. Suspension for anyone who lays a hand on her. That’s the best I can offer.”

“We agree.” Josie answers for all of you, which… is her right. You’re negotiating for her, after all. “I don’t want any of the kids to die for me. They’re just kids– and kids do stupid things.”

Yeah, you know that too. ““Final condition,” you say, turning to Josie. “You want to tell her?”

Josie nods, firmly. “She needs to know. She’s the headmistress. She has to be prepared. Just in case.”

You turn to Caroline. “What you see next, you keep to yourself. You’ll come back in two days, and we’ll explain everything then.”

Caroline raises an eyebrow. “What am I going to see?” Her voice has hardened again. “Josie?”

“It’s necessary for the Merge to be solved, mom. It’s not done yet.” Josie says softly. 

Caroline freezes, her gaze darting to Josie then back to you. "You mean the spell is still..."

“Partially complete,” you confirm. “We’re going to be finishing it now.”

Caroline bites her lip, then nods. “Okay. Complete the spell then.”

You nod, as Josie crashes down on the couch. “You ready?” You ask softly, as you take a knee beside her. 

Josie nods. “I’m ready.”

Marcel vamps into the kitchen and returns with a large blood bag. “Here.”

Caroline watches the bag, her frown deepening. then gasps as realization sets in her eyes, “Is that—that’s blood. Josie? Did you–?”

Josie shakes her head, “I didn’t die,” Josie says, accepting the blood with a smile. “But I’m in transition. The spell triggered it. That was always the plan.”

You watch Caroline process this in real-time, her face shifting through panic, disbelief, horror, resignation, then settling back to panic again, this time mixed with anger. “What?” Caroline’s gaze snaps to you, “Kol! You said–”

Freya jumps in before things spiral.  “We’re not sure how the magic worked here, Caroline. If she was truly in transition then she shouldn’t have been able to do any magic at all. But she was.” 

Caroline’s panic doesn’t fade, but she frowns, staring between all of you, trying to connect the impossible pieces. “What spell was it then?”

“To turn me into a vampire. And a werewolf.” Josie speaks, her words soft but clear. The bag of blood remains untouched in her hands.

Caroline's mouth opens and closes several times, like a fish out of water. “A hybrid? Like Klaus?” She finally manages. 

“No,” Josie says. “A tribrid. Like Hope.” Josie pauses, glancing down at the bag of A positive. "I'd still keep my siphoner abilities, but I'd also be more. A vampire and a werewolf.” 

Then, she looks at Gilbert, unconscious and silent, and her voice tightens. “And I have to activate the werewolf side. Which means I have to kill someone.”

Caroline blinks, as she pales, realization sparking in her eyes, “Someone– Jeremy? That’s why you knocked him out?” Caroline accuses, glaring at Freya. 

Freya just shrugs, unapologetic.

And… you see the exact moment Caroline's mind connects the dots. Caroline turns to Jeremy, looking… horrified, but contemplative, “If Josie kills Jeremey, then it will activate her werewolf curse and since he has the ring, he can come back to life?”

Josie nods. “Exactly. He’ll survive. But the kill will still trigger the curse.”

Caroline drags a trembling hand down her face, collapsing onto the couch across from her daughter. She doesn't look at any of you, or Jeremy. Just stares at Josie, searching her daughter's face for... something. "And you want to do this?" Caroline asks, her voice nearly a whisper.

Josie nods, holding her mother's gaze steadily. “I have to,” Josie says. “It’s the only way to complete the spell. To finally end the Merge. Permanently.” Josie hesitates, then adds, “If not Jeremy, then I was considering Alaric or Bonnie. But they wouldn’t come back.”

Caroline flinches, but you see it in her eyes—she’s already accepted it. The calculus is cruel, but simple.

A moment later, Caroline nods to herself, "If it saves you, then..." Caroline trails off, staring at Jeremy, then turns to Josie with a conflicted expression on her face, “then I understand. You can kill Jeremy. He’ll come back anyway." She then turns to you. “Are we sure it will work?”

You meet her gaze. “Yes. It’s the kill that matters. Not the permanence of death, either spirit, body or otherwise.”

Caroline closes her eyes and lets out a long, shaking breath. "Alright," she says hoarsely. 

Josie glances at all of you, hesitating for a moment, then places the blood bag on the table. She turns to Caroline and crosses the space between them, steady but unsure.

“It's not the Mikaelsons' fault. It’s my choice, Mom.” Josie’s voice is quiet, but resolute. Before Caroline can respond, Josie pulls her into a hug. “This is what I  want.”

Caroline freezes for a heartbeat—then wraps her arms around Josie, holding her like she’s afraid to let go. You hear her voice crack as she speaks into Josie’s shoulder. “I never– I never wanted you to die. I spent the last 16 years searching for a cure for the Merge, just to stop my daughters from dying–”

“You did that,” Josie whispers, pulling back just enough to meet her mother’s eyes, “but I want this, Mom. I really do. If the spell hadn’t worked, or even if we wouldn’t have found a solution, I would have wanted to turn.”

You see the exact moment Josie's words sink in. Caroline's breath catches, and for a long second, she just stares at her daughter in stunned silence. “You– you did?”

Josie nods silently. 

Caroline inhales shakily, "You never said anything," Caroline says softly, without any judgment or accusation that was there before. 

Josie gives her a small, sad smile. “It never felt like the right time.” Her expression darkens for a moment—shadows and dark wisps curling around her body, “I didn’t… I didn’t want it until I learned about the Merge.”  

Caroline flinches, guilt flashing across her face.

Josie hesitates again, then glances at all of you before turning back to her mother. “At first, it was just about Lizzie. I didn’t want to kill her, and I thought becoming a heretic could solve it. But it wasn’t only that.” She takes a breath. “It was also about Hope. She’s a tribrid. She won’t die. And I couldn’t let her lose someone else she loved.”

A small smile lifts the corner of Josie’s mouth. “But then afterwards… After I met the Mikaelsons, I realized it wasn’t just about avoiding the Merge or being with Hope forever. It was about me. About what I want .”

You study her as she speaks. There's a raw honesty in her voice. She’s not just saying it for Caroline. She's finally saying it for herself. 

And… It makes you so proud . “I want more from life, Mom. More than six years. I want to see the world, be a doctor, and find what makes me happy.” Josie admits, taking a shaky breath. “And I want to do it without always wondering when I’m going to die, because of the Merge, or something else. I want to live .”

Caroline doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes brim with tears as she looks at her daughter—truly sees her—and all the emotion she’s been holding back spills onto her face. Gratitude. Grief. Awe.

“I—” Caroline starts, then falters. She clears her throat, trying to stay composed. “I wish you’d told me sooner. Not about wanting to turn, necessarily. But about... everything. How you felt. I was so afraid that you'd die, but I never... I never even considered that you'd want this. That you might want something different."

Josie just nods, tears shining in her eyes now too.

Caroline takes a shaky breath and wipes her face, her hands trembling as they tighten on Josie’s arms. She pulls her daughter into another hug, fierce and full of emotion. “I understand, Josie. I do.” She draws back just enough to look into her daughter’s eyes. “I know this doesn’t make up for everything that’s happened. But I’m so sorry for everything. And if this is your choice... then I support it. You’re going to do incredible things in this world, my beautiful girl.”

Josie’s breath hitches as she hugs her mother tightly, her expression one of pure relief—mixed with something softer. Something healing. “Thanks, mom."

You glance at Freya, Marcel, and Davina. This... might actually be going better than expected. Or maybe it’s just a temporary moment of peace before everything shifts again.

You really don’t know. 

But you will follow Josie’s lead on this, because this is her old family. Her choice.

At least Caroline seemed… more reasonable than Lizzie, or the others. 

Caroline gently pulls away, wiping her cheeks one last time before turning toward you and Freya. “So... once she drinks the blood, she completes the vampire transition. Then she has to kill Jeremy. And that finishes the spell?”

“Yeah,” Josie confirms, squeezing her mother’s shoulder before stepping back. “We’ll talk more later, okay?”

Caroline nods, clearly overwhelmed, but holding herself together.

Josie picks up the blood bag again, then glances across the room—at Rebekah, who’s still very much unconscious. “I… I think we should wake her up? She’d probably appreciate being awake for this?”

You blink, then nod. “Yeah.” Your sister would be insufferable for at least a century if you’d let Josie transition without her being awake for it. 

You can already hear Rebekah’s future rant if you didn’t.

Freya huffs softly. The two of you cross the room together. You intertwine your magic with hers, pressing it gently into Rebekah’s body. The necrotic energy fades. Her bones knit. Her heart restarts.

Rebekah jerks awake with a sharp gasp. 

Marcel catches her easily, “Hey, Bekah,” he says gently. “It’s okay. We won.”

She groans, rubbing her neck. “Of course we bloody won.” Her gaze flicks to you, accusatory. “You had your magic after all. And now—where…” Rebekah trails off, glancing around the room, then her focus snaps to Josie. 

Josie gives her a small wave. “Hey. Figured you’d want to be awake for this.”

Rebekah blinks, then slowly takes in the blood bag in Josie’s hand. Realization dawns.

“You’re transitioning?” Your sister asks softly. Then her eyes narrow as they whip toward you. “And you didn’t think to wake me!?”

You raise a brow. “Who told you to get your neck snapped so easily?” Before your sister can throw a knife at you, you add quickly, “Josie wanted you awake. So Freya and I woke you up.”

Rebekah opens her mouth, ready to argue—then exhales and nods. “Thank you.”

“I want my family with me when I transition.” Josie says simply, a little shrug, like it’s nothing. But you all know it’s not nothing. Not even close. You know that Josie knows how much this means to Rebekah, to all of you. “So… can I start? Because the blood is really tempting me.”

Keelin chuckles. Marcel steps back. Davina shifts slightly to give her room. Rebekah just watches her with something like awe.

You and Freya nod. “Go ahead, Josie.”

Josie opens the cap, and the sharp scent of blood floods the room. Her eyes flash dark for a moment as the hunger kicks in.

She closes her eyes, steadies herself, then glances up at you.

“Alright,” Josie whispers, a small, brave smile curling her lips. “Here goes nothing.”

Josie brings the tube to her lips and takes a long, deliberate sip.

You feel it almost immediately—the magic shifting in the room. The vampire magic inside her starts to solidify, bonding with her soul, anchoring itself deep in her core.

She drinks faster.

Veins darken under her eyes, branching across her cheeks. Her warm brown irises flood with crimson blood-red flecks, the sclera turning pure black. Magic pulses off her skin like heat—wisps of dark energy curling around her arms, dancing along her skin like living things, mixing a violet shimmer with crimson and amber sparks. 

Five seconds later, the blood bag is drained. She exhales sharply and tosses it onto the table.

Before any of you can say anything, Josie’s hand flies to her jaw. “Argh—what the hell—” She grimaces, her eyes flickering violently between obsidian black, crimson blood-red, and molten amber. “I knew from the stories that the fangs were supposed to hurt coming in, but bloody hell, Kol—this is awful .”

You let out a soft chuckle and gently guide her toward the couch.

Marcel vanishes into the kitchen—definitely going to grab another bag.

Josie winces, massaging her jaw and pressing her fingers to her gums. “Okay, seriously—are my lower teeth supposed to hurt too? I haven’t even activated the werewolf curse yet.”

You focus, extending your senses toward her magical signature. It’s shifting rapidly. The werewolf magic isn’t active yet, but it’s primed—like it’s waiting for a trigger. “Your body’s preparing. The spell knows what’s coming.”

You study her, watching for any signs of instability. “Your senses?” You ask. That was always the moment vampires lost their footing—when everything got too loud, too sharp, too vivid.

Josie blinks, then looks around the room. She exhales slowly. “It’s... not overwhelming. Just weird. Like—everything’s more. Sharper. Deeper. But not... alien? It feels like an extension of what I already had. Familiar, just amplified.”

You trade a glance with Freya. That’s... not typical.

Maybe it’s the spell. Maybe it’s Hope’s blood. Or maybe Josie’s mind had already started adapting the moment the spell began and when she was in transition?

Rebekah moves to sit beside her, eyes sharp but gentle. “How do you feel emotionally? Bloodlust? Rage? Sadness? Euphoria?”

Marcel returns with another blood bag, watching Josie with the cautious scrutiny of someone who’s seen too many new vamps turn ripper.

But you know she isn’t. You feel it in her magic—it hums with intention, not chaos.

Josie bites her lip, eyes darting to the blood bag in Marcel’s hand. “Emotions are... stable. I’ve had years of practice controlling my emotions and Lizzie’s emotions raging across the twin bond, so I don’t think that this will be a problem.” 

Caroline winces softly at that, but wisely stays quiet.

Josie tilts her head. “Can I get one?”

Marcel doesn’t hand it over immediately. He tilts the bag, inspecting her reaction. “What do you feel when you look at this?”

Josie frowns. “Hungry... but not desperate. I want it, but I’m not craving it like I need it, if that makes sense? It tasted good, though. Like... honey and warm syrup?”

All of you grin at that. 

You all smile. Freya snorts quietly. Marcel grins and tosses her the bag. “Warm blood always tastes better. You’re doing well, Josie. You don’t show any signs of being a ripper, or seem to have control issues.”

You nod to yourself. The spell worked—at least two-thirds of it. One part remains.

“Can you use magic?” You ask, watching her carefully. Vampirism might’ve changed her magic... from normal siphoning to actual magic.

Josie pauses mid-drink. Her free hand rises, and with a flick of her fingers, a flame flares to life in her palm—black and purple with glimmers of red and amber. The color of the flame is especially interesting, because it’s dark magic tinged considering the black-purple flame, but the spell wasn’t a dark magic flame spell. 

Which meant that the dark magic bled into the spell regardless, which means the dark magic has fused into the essence of her spellwork now.

“Still got it,” Josie says, smirking. “I can feel the vampire magic, the dark magic... even the energy I siphon. It’s all separate, but blending, too. It’s weird. But good.”

You extend your hand. “Try siphoning me.”

Without hesitation, she clasps it. A heartbeat later, her hand glows red. Magic drains from your body into hers, smoothly, cleanly. She releases you a moment later, beaming. “Yup. Still got the touch.”

You nod, impressed. “That is good.”

Freya moves beside Davina, both of them scanning Josie with layered diagnostic spells. Powerful enough that even you feel it. “Anything else?” Freya asks. “Anything strange or different you haven’t mentioned?”

Josie finishes the second bag, but doesn’t reach for a third. Which gives one more point to her being in control of her bloodlust now. “I don’t– I’m… thinking faster, I think? I don’t know.” Josie bites her lip, then… in a whoosh of air she’s on the other side of the room, looking slightly surprised at her vamp speed, but she nods to herself, “Um, also that felt kinda weird, but I think I will probably get used to it with practice?”

She walks back, slower this time, still adjusting. There’s a smile on her lips. 

She seems grounded. Stable. 

Stronger.

Then her eyes flick to Gilbert, unconscious on the couch. The veins under her eyes darken again, and her fangs drop with a soft click. “I know we said I should snap his neck,” Josie hums, like she’s considering something. “but wouldn’t it be a waste of blood when I could just... drink him dry?”

You all exchange glances.

You know that this isn’t because she’s losing control or anything, but because she’s excited about her vampirism. “Snatch-eat-erase comes afterwards, Josie.” You tell her dryly. “Vein drinking is lesson three.”

Josie pouts but retracts her fangs. “Spoilsport.”

Rebekah steps forward, hesitant, then asks, “Can I hug you?”

Josie blinks, surprised, but nods.

Rebekah pulls her in, tight and full of warmth, like she’s been waiting her whole life for this moment. “Welcome to immortality, love. You’re going to be brilliant.”

You scowl, arms crossed. You  wanted to say that.

A wave of quiet amusement ripples through your soul bond with Davina. Of course, she finds this funny.

In retaliation, you flick your sister off with your magic, petty as hell, then wrap your arms around your niece. “Now, we’re going clubbing later,” you murmur with a grin, “but don’t you think you should finish the last part first?”

Josie chuckles softly against your shoulder before pulling away. “Yeah. You’re right.” She looks at Freya and Davina, her expression flickering with hesitation. “I really want to hug you both... but I can literally feel your heartbeats. Maybe let’s save it for when I’m not hungry? Or when I’ve learned to control myself?”

Freya and Keelin smile, warm and proud. 

Davina nods, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll hug later. When you’re not looking at me like a snack.” She winks at you. “Kol’s the only one who can bite me—soulbond and all.”

Josie winces playfully. “Fair.” Her gaze shifts to Jeremy Gilbert—unconscious, unaware of what’s coming. “I’ll start?”

You and the others step back, giving her room. The air thickens with tension, magic already pulsing around her.

Josie takes a steadying breath—then twists her wrist.

A soft snap echoes. Jeremy’s neck breaks cleanly. His body crumples.

And Josie drops to her knees.

The room erupts with magic.

Raw, unfiltered energy surges outward from her core, slamming into your chest like a hammer. You gasp, struggling to maintain control as your own magic reacts violently to the shockwave.

Josie’s eyes flash red again—sclera black, irises glowing crimson. The vampire veins beneath her eyes twist into a deeper shade, a blood-rust red that seems to shimmer unnaturally.

Then she screams.

A dome of magic bursts out from her, shielding everyone. Protective instinct—smart girl.

But within it, she clutches her head, trembling as the transformation rips through her. 

You inhale sharply, grounding yourself, trying to push the surge down into the earth—but it’s no use. The ground rejects it. Everything is already soaked in magic. 

Wild, uncontainable, and not yours.

You realize suddenly—It’s hers .

All of it.

You turn your focus back to Josie.

Josie’s scream quiets, the agony smoothing out of her face. Her body stills. Her eyes snap open.

Silence falls.

Someone gasps. Maybe you. Maybe everyone.

Her eyes have changed again.

Crimson bleeds into molten amber—then blazes into a radiant orange. It glows, an intense, burning hue, flecked with a deep blood-red.

Not just vampire. Not just wolf. 

Something entirely new .

A low growl rumbles from her chest. Her fangs extend—double sets, top and bottom, gleaming and predatory. Sharper than any vampire’s. 

Even Marcel’s, who is the Beast. 

You force yourself upright, forcing your magic down, compacting the storm within your body. The earth won’t take it, so you bear it, letting it spark through your veins like lightning.

The others are struggling too. Next to you, you feel Freya and Davina doing the same, while Marcel, Rebekah, and Caroline are on the ground, wide-eyed.

And then you see it.

The soulmark on Josie’s wrist burns the same orange as her eyes. Hope’s name on her waist ignites . A patch of skin on her thigh glows as well. All three pulse together, synced —bound to something far greater than the spell you performed.

And then… the world shifts.

Magic rolls out like a shockwave, far beyond the walls of this room.

The sky fractures .

A deep, unnatural darkness washes across the planet. You feel it—not just here, but everywhere. A deep, primal hush .

As if the Earth itself goes silent, holding its breath.

Blood-red clouds roll across the heavens. Lightning cracks—a brilliant electric blue—splitting the sky again and again. Winds howl with unnatural force, and at the center of it all, the full moon glows white-hot. Watching. Waiting.

Across the world, every supernatural being freezes.

Witches go quiet mid-ritual. Wolves halt mid-hunt. Vampires stop mid-feed. Heretics, hybrids, werewitches—everyone feels it.

A pull in the blood. A shift in the air. 

That pulse of something ancient and new all at once. 

Like the universe just turned a page.

You feel it too.

Not just with your magic—but with your soul.

It’s Josie .

And you realize, this is the birth of something new. 

Because the spell worked .

Werewolf. Vampire. Siphoner.

A Tribrid .