You were the first heretic, a powerful witch, a siphoner. Back in 1110, you had known Klaus, a bond forged out of necessity when you helped him evade other witches.

You were always one step ahead of them, always one step ahead of everyone. One day, he decided to introduce you to his family.

You met all of them—the Originals—each one with their own unique charm. Even Finn. They all grew to love you, and you’d become a part of their world, at least for a time. But everything changed when you were killed in 1116.

It was tragic, violent, and far too quick. But your death wasn’t the end. You had vampire blood in your system. Elijah’s blood.

You’d always had a thing for Elijah, though neither of you had ever admitted it. The chemistry was there, undeniable, but you’d both kept your distance.

Now, centuries later, you were back. You’d been to hell and back, but it was your argument with Elijah that stung the most. A fight so heated that it left you both raw, broken. Three hundred years apart hadn’t healed the wound, but you’d learned to live with it.

And then, there you were, in New Orleans, minding your own business—until you saw him.

“Elijah…”

You muttered the name so quietly, under your breath, hoping no one else would hear it. But that voice, that deep, familiar tone, was impossible to forget. The world seemed to stop as you locked eyes with him. Time, it seemed, had stood still for both of you.