Force of Gravity • NM

•58•

The room was dark, but not with night — with fog, like time itself was suspended. Naira stood barefoot in a long corridor of broken glass and flickering lights. The walls were white once, now stained with rust and madness. Somewhere, in the distance, a music box was playing — a slow, haunting lullaby echoing through the abandoned asylum halls.

A voice called out.

"Help me..."

It was barely a whisper — but it reverberated like thunder in Naira's chest. She turned, running down the corridor, her breath turning to mist.

"Please... I'm still here. I don't want to forget them.....my family"

And then — a glimpse.

A girl. Blonde. Barefoot. Pale from years without sunlight. Her eyes sunken but sharp. She sat curled up under a broken window, scribbling names into the floor with her fingernail.

Finn. Elijah. Rebekah. Niklaus. 
Then she paused. Looked up.
"They forgot me. But I remember them."

The walls began to scream. The asylum trembled. A dark force — wrapped around the girl like smoke. The light vanished.

She sat bolt upright, screaming, drenched in cold sweat, her breaths short and ragged. The blanket was tangled around her legs, her fingers gripping her mattress like she had been falling through it. Tears streamed down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying.

Klaus's head jerked up instantly from the armchair in his room. He was reading. Or pretending to. Her scream had sliced through the night like a dagger. He was in front of her door in a blur — hand raised — ready to push it open — but he stopped.

His fingers hovered over the handle.

He could hear her breathing. Hear her sobs.

His jaw clenched.

Part of him ached to go to her. To hold her like he did once. To brush her hair from her face and whisper "It's alright, little one."

But that name — he hadn't let it pass his lips in days.
And the fight... it still burned.

So instead, he turned.

He crossed the hall to Henry's room. The toddler was curled up in his crib, one tiny hand clutching the ear of a stuffed fox.

Klaus bent down, scooping him up with surprising gentleness. The boy didn't stir. Klaus carried him to his own bed and sat beside him, brushing back his soft hair.

"You'll be safe," he murmured, more to himself than Henry.
"Whatever that dream meant... you'll be safe."

But his eyes strayed to the door across the hall.
To her room.
To her cries.

And he hated that he couldn't comfort her.

Naira, still trembling, wiped her cheeks and forced herself to breathe. She pulled out her new phone — the backup one after Klaus broke her old one — and dialed.

Damon answered. Voice thick with tiredness but instantly alert.
"Naira? You okay?"

She didn't wait.
"I saw her. Freya. She's alive. She's trapped somewhere—some kind of old asylum or..."

Bonnie's voice cut in, urgent and clear.
"You had a dream? Naira, that's not a coincidence. You need to trace it. Can you?"

Naira nodded, then realized they couldn't see her.
"Yeah... yeah, I'll start now."
She looked toward Henry's room, her heart aching with longing and fear.

"Stay away from him," she whispered to herself.
"If Dahlia touched that dream... I could be marked."

Damon, Bonnie, Caroline, and Elijah were all at the boarding house. The fireplace glowed with tension more than warmth. A map was spread out across the floor, books open, salt rings drawn, herbs burning.

Elijah's jaw was tight.
"She was calling to all of us," he said.
"Freya. I felt it too. I believe she reached us through Naira."

Bonnie whispered as she chanted over the map, drawing lines of flame that fizzled out, unable to reach the exact location.

"Too many protections. Too many layers," she muttered.

Damon looked out the window.
"Whatever this is... we need to find her before Dahlia finds Henry...or Naira"

Naira sat in the clearing behind the safehouse. The forest around her was still, waiting.

She whispered the spell, hands trembling but steady enough to draw the sigils.

And then—the wind shifted.

The trees groaned. The roots beneath her pulsed.

She wasn't just a witch. She was a nature witch. The forest felt her. Knew her.

Leaves lifted and swirled in slow spirals around her. Moss grew beneath her palms. The moon dimmed behind passing clouds.

Flashes hit her. Visions.

A rusted iron gate.
A crumbling sign: "St. Agnes Asylum – CLOSED"
A broken rocking chair turning on its own.
A woman singing in whispers.
A white streak of hair behind a dusty window.

Naira gasped. Connecting her magic to Bonnies'.

"I see it... It's on the border... of New Orleans. Deep woods. Abandoned. But it's real."

She collapsed back, breathing hard.

Behind her, Klaus stood unseen at the edge of the woods — watching. He'd followed when he heard the trees move. He saw her crumple. And he rushed to her.

Back at the boarding house, the map flared with red. Bonnie gasped. Damon stepped back.

Elijah's eyes narrowed.
"We have her location."

And in the distance, in the outskirts of New Orleans, the asylum breathed.

A single light flickered on.

Inside, Freya opened her eyes.

And whispered...
"Dahlia...your end has come... my family found me."