WAR OF HEARTS ↠ KOL MIKAELSON [1]

3:13

| THE AFTERMATH:
CHAPTER THIRTEEN |

The late-morning sun filtered through the broken glass panels above the Mikaelson compound, casting fractured light across the once-elegant stone floor. Dust hung in the air like suspended magic—waiting to settle, waiting to shift. The silence was broken by hurried footsteps, echoing through the open archways like a warning.

Kol and Rhea entered the main hall side by side, his hand resting gently on the small of her back. There was an ease to them now, something soft and settled beneath the usual chaos. Married less than twenty-four hours, and yet they moved as though they'd been tethered for lifetimes—which, in many ways, they had.

Her eyes still held a lingering glow from the night before. Their wedding had been everything it should've been: loud and lovely, full of messy emotion and stolen glances, laughter between tears, and the kind of quiet devotion that didn't require an audience.

They had spent the night wrapped in each other, consummating their union in every possible way—with reverence and fire, with whispered promises, with skin pressed to skin until dawn blurred the line between soul and body.

And now, their bags were packed.

They were due to leave New Orleans in just a few hours—no final destination in mind, only the shared promise of somewhere new. Somewhere untouched by war, betrayal, ghosts, and the ever-looming weight of family politics.

But that dream paused the moment they stepped into the courtyard and saw Freya—her sleeves rolled to the elbows, candles burning at unnatural speeds, and arcane symbols scribbled in chalk across a parchment map pinned to the central table.

Kol raised a brow, his tone clipped with mild annoyance.

"Freya, whatever it is you want, it better be quick. We leave in a few hours."

Rhea stood slightly behind him, arms folded across her waist, already suspecting this wasn't going to be the quick detour they'd hoped for.

Freya didn't look up at first. She was chanting under her breath, one hand pressed against a sigil while her other hovered over the map.

"You said you put the prophecy to rest," Kol added, his irritation starting to flare. "So what's the worry now? A lingering ghost of doomsday?"

Freya finally exhaled, the words falling from her lips like steam, sharp and anxious.

"I didn't sleep last night."

Her voice was taut, strained. That alone was enough to make Kol hesitate.

"I kept feeling this... pressure. This weight I couldn't explain. Dread. Like something's shifting just outside our vision."

She paused. Then, with a glance at Rhea, her tone softened.