The morgue was cold, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones. The overhead light flickered, painting the room in sharp flashes of white and shadow. For a moment, all was still — until your body jerked forward with a sharp, gasping inhale. The sound echoed in the empty room, raw and desperate. Your lungs burned, your throat felt dry, and your mind scrambled to make sense of the last thing you remembered—water. Darkness. Matt.

You remembered Stefan’s face, the panic in his eyes as you forced him to go after Matt instead. You remembered the pull of the river as it dragged you down, the world fading into nothing.

And now, you were awake. But you weren’t the same.

When you touched your lips, they trembled under your fingers. The metallic tang of blood lingered faintly in your mouth — Caroline’s blood. Realization hit hard. You were in transition.

Meanwhile, across town, Klaus Mikaelson was chaos incarnate.

The night you died, he shattered the mansion’s walls with his fury. Every word that came from his mouth was a growl, every piece of furniture that crossed his path was reduced to splinters.

“You did this!” he roared, his hand tightening around Rebekah’s throat as she tried to stammer out an explanation. “You killed her!”

And with that, he plunged the dagger into her heart. His sister’s body crumpled to the floor, lifeless, but he didn’t even look back. His chest heaved with rage, grief, and something far deeper — fear. Because for the first time in a thousand years, he had found peace in someone, and now she was gone.

Hours later, the house was eerily quiet. Elijah had left him to his solitude, unable to reason with him. Klaus sat before the fireplace, drink untouched, his eyes hollow.

And then — a sound.

Soft footsteps in the hallway. Hesitant. Uncertain.

Klaus’s head snapped up, brows furrowing. Every nerve in his body went rigid as he rose slowly, the tumbler slipping from his grasp and shattering against the floor.

When you stepped into the room, the light caught the damp strands of your hair, the pallor of your skin — and the unmistakable glow of life that shouldn’t have been possible.

His lips parted in disbelief, voice breaking on your name. “…Love?”

You swallowed hard, the sound of your heart beating faintly — not quite human anymore. “Guess death didn’t want me either,” you whispered, trying to smile though your voice trembled.

Klaus was across the room in a blur. His hand hovered over your cheek, not daring to touch you yet — afraid you’d vanish like the ghost he thought you were. When his fingers finally met your skin, his composure cracked entirely.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it almost hurt, his breath shuddering against your hair. “I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured, voice breaking. “I thought I’d lost the only good thing left in this wretched life.”

You felt it too — the weight of death between you, the pull of what came next. “I haven’t turned yet,” you whispered. “I don’t… I don’t know if I should.”

Klaus drew back just enough to meet your eyes — dark, aching, desperate. “I’ll not lose you again,” he vowed, cupping your face. “If you choose this life, love, you won’t walk it alone. You’ll have me. Always.”

Your heart thudded once more, fragile and fading. The world hung between breaths — life and death, human and immortal.

And as Klaus looked at you, eyes full of centuries of grief and devotion, the choice suddenly didn’t feel like a curse.

It felt like destiny.