The noble stag's facade is shattered. And the demon behind the Red Door is free.
Taking his brother's life should've been Elijah's worst sin. It's clear that redemption is an illusion. All that remains is surviving the supernatural hordes that wish...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Kol Mikaelson, the infamous happy homicidal maniac of the Original family, quite enjoyed himself in the midst of the supernatural club he recently acquired which was pulsating with energy and excitement.
The city of angels had welcomed him as befits his royal stature. Vampires and witches circled him desperate for power and glory under the banner of his fledgling empire.
No one particularly liked Nik. They feared him - disproportionately so, considering Kol had the larger body count - and certain sycophants here and there worshipped him. Oblivious fools.
But his substantial list of enemies was a pleasing buffer. Honestly, if not for his half-brother's intrinsic compulsion to antagonise everyone he meets. Or to bloody spare some of his victims to lord over them his supposed superiority, Kol wouldn't have amassed such huge following.
He spent most of the last century carted in a sealed box for heaven's sake. His contacts of the magical variety would've dried up, if the Hybrid didn't offer him fresh troops to gather.
Tonight, however was about cutting loose and having fun. Paint Los Angeles red.
The air was thick with the sound of thumping music, laughter, and the mingling of various creatures of the night.
Nyx, this fine establishment he made his temporary residence, attracted unsuspecting mortals like moths to a flame. No one can say he didn't appeal to his undead court's preferences.
At midnight, dinner is served.
The music reached its zenith and immortals took to what they did best. However all was not sunshine and rainbows. Screams fluttered about the club. He wouldn't care normally. It's a sign of a job well done. Except vampires began dropping dead, one by one. Not all of them. But at least a third.
At first, Kol's reaction was one of curiosity. He arched an eyebrow, his eyes scanning the room as he tried to make sense of the sudden turn of events. His mind raced with possibilities, considering both supernatural and mundane explanations for the alarming phenomenon.
No hunters were spotted. The intoxicated and inebriated humans were too sluggish to even take on normal people. Let alone supernaturally stronger undead. And vervain would only burn, not incapacitate. A malevolent hex seemed the more reasonable explanation.
As the gravity of the situation sank in, concern and a tinge of fear crept into Kol's thoughts. He was no stranger to danger, having faced countless threats throughout his immortal life. He chased that thrill in fact. The only thing he abhors more than a silver dagger through the heart is boredom. Endless days without entertainment is hell on earth.
But the sight of his fellow vampires falling lifeless was unsettling, even to someone as audacious as the notorious rebel.
He remembered what Finn one said when he tried to aid their mother in annihilating them all.
