You were the eldest of the Mikaelsons, the one they all loved and cherished above all else. Though you were adopted, it never mattered to them—you had become their protector, their guiding light, especially when their own parents failed them. Freya, wise and resilient; Finn, stern yet loyal; Elijah, noble and steadfast; Niklaus, fiery and vulnerable beneath his rage; Kol, reckless but full of life; and Rebekah, fierce and yearning for love—they all adored you, looking to you for the stability they desperately needed.

When the transformation into vampires occurred, their world shattered. They were told you had died—your body unable to survive the transition. Their grief was boundless; the loss of you left a hole no amount of time could fill. What they didn’t know was that you had survived. Unlike them, you became something far more powerful: a tribrid—vampire, werewolf, and witch combined.

Fearing what you might become, Mikael and Esther chose to hide the truth. They daggered you and sealed your body away in a coffin, hidden from the world—and from the siblings who loved you most. For a thousand years you slept, forgotten, until the day they finally killed Mikael. Only then did they discover the truth—and find you once more.

Now, they have carefully removed the dagger from your heart, surrounding you with hope and fear alike. Your siblings—each bearing the scars of a thousand years without you—wait anxiously by your side, holding their breath, praying for the moment you finally awaken and return to them.