WAR OF HEARTS ↠ KOL MIKAELSON [1]

3:04

| THE AFTERMATH:
CHAPTER FOUR |

Rhea stood in the center of the apartment's sun-dappled living room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully held a silver pendulum-like funnel over an old, tea-stained map of the United States. The metal contraption had been enchanted—old magic, delicate and volatile—and was filled with a carefully measured mixture of Vincent's and Finn's blood, bound together with a whispered incantation and a thread of her own power.

She hovered it just inches above the paper, focusing all her energy into guiding the pendulum's slow, deliberate drip. Each droplet fell like molten ruby onto the parchment, spreading and sizzling with arcane heat. She watched, silently pleading with the blood to respond.

Kol, meanwhile, was pacing a trench into the floorboards. His boots thudded with growing agitation, the sound syncing with his escalating restlessness. He tossed his hands up.

"They've been driving northeast for over an hour," he grumbled. "They should keep heading northeast?"

Rhea didn't look up, her tone tight with restraint. "That's what it's showing me."

Kol stopped mid-stride, throwing her an incredulous glance. "Love, if we keep playing the vague compass game, they'll end up in the bloody Atlantic. You want to try following Lucien into the ocean? Because I, for one, don't fancy drowning again."

Rhea exhaled through her nose, jaw tight. She could feel the edges of her composure fraying. "The connection's faint, Kol. It's soul-based magic, not a GPS signal. Finn's body is housing Vincent's essence like an echo chamber—some threads hum, others are silent. I'm not tracking a cell phone here."

But then something shifted in the pattern. The next droplet from the funnel shot downward with more force, curving unnaturally mid-air as if pulled. It landed hard on a small patch of the map—and sizzled.

Rhea's eyes widened. "Wait—"

Kol was instantly at her side, leaning in. "What? Where?"

She stared down, voice soft with realization. "Northern Virginia."

Kol stiffened like he'd been punched. "You're bloody joking."

Rhea glanced up at him, but his expression was dead serious. His features were pulled taut, horror and realization mingling across his face. "We were turned there," he said slowly. "Your grandmother performed the spell to make you and Ares immortal there. And now Lucien just happens to be driving Freya and Ares back to that particular hellscape?"

"That's not coincidence," she whispered, shaken. "That's intention."

Kol's voice sharpened. "Then we need to narrow it down even further. There's too much history in Virginia, too many places steeped in ancestral blood. Can you refine the signal?"

"I'd need something stronger to amplify the echo," she muttered, more to herself than him. "Maybe black cohosh or—"

"Black cohosh won't bloody do it!" Kol snapped, loud enough to make the windows rattle.