Rain tapped against the windowpanes like impatient fingers, and the house creaked with the weight of the storm. You were curled up in your nursery with your favorite book—though you couldn’t read all the words yet, Stefan had been teaching you a little each day.

Damon had kissed your forehead earlier, saying, “Dream sweet, little dove,” before heading out into the rain. He was meant to be back by now.

Hours passed.

You wandered.

You were never supposed to go up to the attic. That was one of Father’s rules. But something called you there tonight. A feeling—like someone was waiting.

The door groaned open, and the air inside was colder than it should’ve been. You stepped onto the wooden floorboards, candle in hand, your nightgown brushing the dusty planks.

Then… a voice.

“I remember you.”

You froze.

A woman stood in the shadows, long hair trailing over her shoulders, a smile too sharp to be kind. Her eyes glowed faintly red.

“You're theirs,” she said softly, stepping forward. “And you smell like Salvatore blood.”

Before you could scream, Damon burst in, soaked from the storm, face pale with fury. He crossed the attic in seconds, standing between you and the woman.

She hissed—but vanished like smoke.

Damon swept you into his arms. “I told Father to lock this damn door,” he muttered, heart racing.

Stefan arrived soon after, breathless. “She’s okay?” he asked, kneeling to touch your cheek.

“She’s safe,” Damon growled. “But we’re not waiting anymore. We tell her everything.”

You looked up at your brothers, confused and afraid.

But deep down… something inside you already knew.