ℍ𝔸𝕌ℕ𝕋𝔼𝔻 - ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴋᴀᴇʟꜱᴏɴꜱ

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖘𝖎𝖝

❧ the witch's plan ❧

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The Lockwood backyard buzzed with restless energy, the kind of warmth and noise that made it feel as though the entire town had gathered in one place. The scent of grilled hot dogs, smoky barbecue, and chili mingled in the humid summer air, carried by a light breeze that whispered through the oak trees. Long picnic tables groaned under the weight of slow cookers, casserole dishes, and disposable trays piled high with brownies and cookies. Children shrieked and laughed as they darted across the lawn, some chasing bubbles while others kicked around a soccer ball.

Amalie moved through the crowd like a shadow slipping between beams of sunlight. She clutched a cold beer bottle loosely in her hand, the condensation dripping lazily onto the dry grass. Her dark jeans, torn at the knees, clung to her frame, and an oversized black sweater—slouchy enough to bare one shoulder—draped comfortably over her.

Her gaze skimmed across the yard, lingering briefly on the potluck tables. The scent of cumin, tomato, and indistinguishable spices wafted toward her, assaulting her senses. Chili, chili, and—oh, look—more chili. Was it possible to die from chili fumes alone? She wouldn't put it past Mystic Falls to try. She scoffed softly under her breath and tipped her beer back, letting the bitter, icy liquid cool the heat rising in her chest.

Her eyes moved again, this time taking in the people around her. Tyler stood near the grill, laughing animatedly at something Caroline said, her expression effortlessly bright. Nearby, Liz Forbes hovered at the edge of the porch, her polite smile firmly in place as she chatted with an older Lockwood family friend. Across the yard, Elena stood with Bonnie near one of the tables, her expression pulled taut with the kind of earnestness that Amalie found exhausting. Bonnie nodded along, her lips pressed together while Elena's hands gestured faintly as she spoke.

Amalie clenched her jaw and turned her gaze away, the bitter taste in her mouth not entirely from the beer. She didn't need to hear the conversation to know the tone. It was always the same with Elena—doe-eyed, determined, and convinced she could save Stefan if she just tried hard enough. There was something admirable about it, sure, but it was exhausting to watch someone so willingly carry the weight of everyone else's problems.

The sound of footsteps nearing made Amalie tense, and before she could think of an escape route, that familiar floral perfume tickled her senses—a soft blend of lavender and something sweet, like jasmine. Of course. Elena had found her.

"Having fun?" Elena's voice was light, pleasant even, as she appeared beside Amalie. But there was something in her tone—a subtle hesitation, an edge of uncertainty that gave her away.

Amalie didn't even glance at her. She kept walking, the beer dangling lazily from her fingers. "Oh, sure. Nothing like the smell of thirty kinds of chili I won't eat and the company of people I can barely tolerate."

Elena let out a soft laugh, though it sounded strained. "You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself."

"I could," Amalie said, tipping her beer back for a long sip.

The two walked in silence for a few moments, the crowd thinning as Amalie subtly steered them toward the far edge of the yard, where the noise softened. She could feel Elena's presence beside her, lingering like a storm cloud about to break. Her breath hitched faintly—just enough for Amalie to know she was building up to something.