The hum of the engine fills the silence as Hope Mikaelson speeds down the winding road, her mind heavy with the weight of the day's events. The Sphinx's watch, securely tucked in her duffel bag in the backseat, pulses with a quiet, insistent power. Next to it, the box that Lizzie and MG brought from Oregon, still wrapped in cloth, exudes a foreboding aura that creeps into the air like a malevolent presence.
From the moment Hope touched the box, a strange, dark energy radiated from it, unsettling her. Something feels deeply wrong about it, tugging at the edges of her consciousness, whispering to her deepest desires. Though she hasn't had time to study it thoroughly, every fiber of her being warns that this artifact is more dangerous than anything she's encountered before.
As dusk fades, filtering the light through the trees, Hope's mind keeps returning to the box. What is it? With every mile, the box's pull intensifies, winding its way into her thoughts, coiling around her psyche, waiting to strike. She catches a glimpse of it in the rearview mirror, lying innocently under its cloth in the backseat. But its pull isn't just mental anymore—it's physical, tugging at her, drawing her closer.
Her grip tightens on the steering wheel as she tries to focus on the road, but the pull becomes insistent, like a whisper in the back of her mind. Without realizing it, her right hand drifts from the wheel, reaching toward the box. Her fingers brush the fabric covering it.
The instant her fingertips touch the cold metal beneath the cloth, reality twists.
The world blurs, the lines between the road, the sky, and the trees blend into a kaleidoscope of swirling colors. Time bends, the fabric of reality warps, and everything Hope knows begins to vanish in a disorienting wave. Her vision splinters into fragments of light and shadow until there's nothing left but silence.
When her vision clears, Hope isn't in her car anymore.
She's standing in the courtyard of the Mikaelson compound in New Orleans.
The warm evening air is filled with the scent of jasmine, mingling with the familiar smell of aged stone and candle smoke. Her heart races as she blinks, taking in her surroundings. The courtyard looks exactly as she remembers—the soft glow of flickering candlelight, ivy climbing the weathered walls, the peaceful, nostalgic stillness of the place.
How did I get here? She thought.
Before she can process the strangeness, a sound reaches her ears—laughter, warm and familiar. It echoes from the dining room, pulling her attention like a magnet. Her breath hitches, her heart skipping a beat. She hasn't heard that sound in years.
Her legs tremble beneath her as she moves toward the source, as if she's walking through a dream. The soft clinking of silverware, murmured voices, and more laughter—light and carefree, the kind she hasn't heard in what feels like an eternity.
As she reaches the dining room entrance, she freezes, her heart lodged in her throat.
Sitting at the head of the long dining table is Klaus Mikaelson, his smile wide, his eyes bright with joy. On either side of him sit Elijah and Hayley, both alive and whole, their faces warm and happy. The table is set with a lavish feast, candlelight casting a golden glow across their faces.
Hope's breath leaves her in a shaky exhale, her legs nearly giving out beneath her. This can't be real. It's impossible. But it feels real to her. The scents, the sounds, the heavy warmth in the air—it's as if she's stepped into a perfect memory.
"Hope!" Hayley's voice breaks through her daze, bright and full of affection. Her mother's face lights up with joy. "There you are, sweetie. Come sit with us."
YOU ARE READING
Echoes of Eternity - A Hope Mikaelson Story
VampireYears after Hope Mikaelson destroyed Malivore and thought she'd made peace with her father's death, life at the Salvatore School has returned to a fragile normal. Surrounded by her found family-the Saltzmans and her closest friends-Hope has built a...
