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Niklaus' POV
As my younger brother lounges there, mocking us with his usual flair, I realize how much I've missed him.
This—this—was why I waited. Why I didn't kill Mikael until it was too late.
Yet now, as Kol sits silently, making no move, his calm unsettles me more than any outburst ever could.
Kol doesn't sit quietly. He doesn't drink rum without a quip. Something is off.
Elijah, ever the observer, notices it too. He sighs and pours himself a drink from a fresh bottle of rum. With practiced ease, he adds blood from a bag, hands a glass to Bekah, and pours a little more into the bottle before sliding it toward Kol.
He and Bekah take their seats beside us. Calm. Watchful. But I can tell—Elijah's tense.
Even Rebekah keeps sneaking glances at Kol.
Only Finn remains his usual oblivious self, sulking in a corner like some mournful statue.
Kol finishes the first bottle without pause. Reaches for the second. And then, it happens.
His posture shifts. His gaze sharpens. There's fire in his smile.
Something has awakened.
I feel it.
No. Impossible.
Kol meets my stare, slowly. Deliberately. And in that single glance, I know—he knows something.
Before I can speak, he hurls the half-empty bottle across the room.
It shatters against the doorway with a deafening crash.
Everyone flinches. Even Finn lifts his head in surprise.
And then—she walks in.
Our mother.
Drenched in rum. Her eyes locked on Kol.
"Ah, Mother," Kol purrs, flashing across the room. He's inches from her in the blink of an eye. "How I have longed for this day."
His voice is calm. Too calm.
And that's the problem.
Kol never does calm. Not unless something monumental is about to unfold.
Kol was always different.
He never bowed to Mikael like the rest of us did.
Even as a mortal, he was wild, clever. He raided seafaring villages. Learned magic from anyone who would teach. He had land, power, and secrets before Henrik even came of age.
He even arranged Henrik's betrothal. A glimpse of hope in our cursed family.
Then Henrik died.
After that, Kol was never the same.
At the wake, his eyes were dead. When Mikael struck him at dinner, Kol didn't even flinch—he hadn't expected the blow. He hadn't cared.
He was a shell.
But now?
Now, the Warlock of the Millennium stands before our mother.
And the air crackles with power.
Kol speaks first.
"How was the Other Side, Mother?" he asks softly. "I hope they cherished your presence."
There's a gleam in his eyes that chills my blood.
Mother falters. Just slightly.
Fear.
He sees it too.
Kol's grin widens.
"Ah, so my instructions reached the Other Side. Good. I made sure the punishment for failure was… severe."
He tilts his head.
"Tell me, how much did Ayanna help with your resurrection? I'd love to visit those little covens and thank them for breaking nature on your behalf."
His voice drips with venom.
This is the Kol the world fears.
While I am feared for ruthlessness, Kol is feared for something worse—imagination.
He doesn't just kill. He crafts revenge like a spell—layered, cruel, and unforgettable.
To cross him is to invite horror.
And now, it's Mother's turn.
"You know," he muses, stepping even closer, "I wanted to punish you myself. When Nik killed you, I was... satisfied. For a time. The rage drowned everything else."
He smiles wider, and the temperature seems to drop.
"But I knew you'd return. So I prepared. I learned. And you—you—will feel everything."
Kol gestures casually, but the air stirs, whispering like unseen voices crawling across the floor.
"I bartered with witches, threatened others, made deals I shouldn't have. All to make sure your stay in the afterlife was... memorable."
He lifts his gaze.
"And now that you're back," he says to the air, "here is my deal."
Kol's grin sharpened, his tone turning formal as he addressed the very air, the spirits, and the witches beyond the veil.
"And now that you're back," Kol murmured, voice laced with steel, "this is my decree."
His eyes gleamed with power as he raised his hand, fingers splayed in a silent invocation.
"I call upon the old spirits, those who keep watch from the Other Side. Let my words be bound by Gaia's breath and Odin's wrath."
Even the air seemed to recoil.
"To every Bennett witch who laid a hand, cast a spell, or whispered a charm to bring this woman back—your essence is forfeit. On the Other Side, let their spirits be wracked with torment. Let their souls fracture like glass beneath thunder."
Mother flinched. I saw it. The first real crack in her composure.
But Kol wasn't done.
"And to the living Bennetts," he continued, voice cold as winter, "feel what your ancestors suffer. May the pain bleed into your bones, may their screams haunt your dreams, may your power turn against you when you reach for it. For every spell cast in our mother's favor, your bloodline will pay in kind."
The shadows seemed to shift—unseen listeners gathering.
"This is not vengeance. This is enforcement. Your meddling in Original affairs carries a cost, and I am the collector."
Kol's voice dropped to a whisper, but it hit harder than any scream.
"This is my oath: let the Bennett witches who aided this crime suffer ruin on both sides of the veil. And if any coven defies me—if even one dares to shield her again—I will salt the roots of your magic and burn the fruit of your lineage. For one thousand years, your name will be synonymous with pain."
A hum of old magic coiled through the air. He was invoking something ancient—dangerous.
Kol's smile returned, too bright. Too calm.
"This is sworn before Gaia and Odin as my witnesses. Let the witches decide what price they're willing to pay."
The room had gone still. Not silent—still. Like the earth itself was holding its breath. I could feel whispers, the rustling of unseen forces, like silk over steel.
Kol had made his move. Now we'd see how the witches interpreted it.
One thing was certain—many covens would flee from this farce. Kol had spoken plainly: pull her back again, and you all burn.
And the Bennetts?
Maybe he'd kill their eldest. Maybe he'd tutor the youngest just to make her curse her own ancestors. That was Kol—if there was a crueler option, he'd find it.
Kol stepped back, that same unnerving smile still painted across his face.
"Ah, Mother and my siblings, I almost forgot to mention..."
He turned toward me, voice dropping into playful malice.
"Nik, you idiot."
"Don't dagger me again, "