Mystic Bonds: The Tale of Ross and Morrison

Fangs at the Door

Morrison sat at her desk in the quiet of her study, the soft rustle of turning pages the only sound breaking the silence. Her focus was on an old family history book she had recently unearthed from the attic. The text was filled with archaic symbols and phrases, many of which she couldn't make sense of. Confusion knitted her brows together as she tried to decipher the strange words, her fingers tracing the lines of text.

Just as she was about to give up, the shrill ring of the doorbell cut through the silence, startling her. She glanced at the clock—it was late, and unexpected visitors were always unsettling. She hesitated before reluctantly rising from her chair and making her way to the door.

Peering through the peephole, she saw a striking woman standing on her doorstep. The woman had an air of elegance and confidence that was hard to ignore, but Morrison didn't recognize her. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

The woman smiled warmly, though there was something unsettling in her eyes. "Good evening! I'm Rebekah Mikaelson. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Morrison's instincts told her to be wary. "I'm sorry, but I don't usually invite strangers inside."

Rebekah's smile didn't falter. In a fluid, almost predatory motion, she revealed a glimpse of her fangs, her expression shifting to one of dark amusement. Morrison's eyes widened in fear as she took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest.

Without missing a beat, Rebekah glided past her into the house, her demeanor both commanding and nonchalant. "Oh, don't worry, dear. I assure you, I'm not here for a social call."

Morrison tried to back away, but Rebekah was too quick. She grabbed Morrison's arm with a grip that was both firm and unyielding. Morrison's eyes darted around in panic, but before she could react further, Rebekah produced a syringe from her coat pocket.

With a practiced ease, Rebekah injected the needle into Morrison's neck. The sting was sharp but brief, and within moments, Morrison's vision began to blur.

As she slumped against Rebekah, her strength fading rapidly, Rebekah's voice cut through the haze with a note of playful menace. "I'm afraid you don't have much choice in the matter. You're going to be quite useful to me."

Morrison's last coherent thought was a mixture of fear and confusion as darkness enveloped her.

Rebekah's voice lingered in the air, sassy and assured. "Sleep well, darling. We've got a lot to discuss when you wake up."

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Morrison's vision swam as she slowly regained consciousness. Her head throbbed with pain, and her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. As her surroundings came into focus, she realized she was lying on a rough, uneven surface. The faint flicker of a candle cast eerie shadows on the walls of what appeared to be a cave.

She tried to sit up but was immediately overwhelmed by the dizziness and a dull ache that spread through her body. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she saw him—Ross Mikaelson. He stood a few feet away, his eyes cold and emotionless, the candlelight casting sharp contrasts on his face. His gaze was fixed on her with an unsettling intensity.

"Welcome back," Ross said, his voice smooth but laced with a chilling indifference. He held the candle carefully, its light casting a warm yet sinister glow on his features. The flickering flame illuminated the stark contrast between his elegance and the grim surroundings.

Morrison's heart raced, and she instinctively tried to back away, but her bindings prevented any movement. Fear gnawed at her as she looked around, trying to make sense of her predicament.

"What—what is this place?" she managed to stammer, her voice trembling with anxiety.

Ross tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving her. "A temporary confinement," he said casually. "I needed to see something, and unfortunately, you're part of my experiment."