WAR OF HEARTS ↠ KOL MIKAELSON [1]

4:05

| FOR HOPE, FOR FAMILY
CHAPTER FIVE |

The apartment was bathed in flickering candlelight, casting golden shadows along the old wood floors and cracked plaster walls. A protective circle of chalk and salt had been drawn meticulously in the center of the living room, surrounded by dried rosemary, sage, and a handful of enchanted items only witches with ancestral ties would recognize. The air shimmered faintly with the echo of spellcraft—residual magic clinging to the room like warmth from a fire long burned out.

And in the center of it, Rhea knelt.

Her shoulders slumped forward, hands resting on her thighs, lips pressed into a tight, frustrated line. The summoning had worked. She knew it would—her bloodline was strong, and this ritual was one she had performed only a handful of times in her life.

Demetria—her grandmother, her mentor, her compass—stood within the circle now, cloaked in the silver-blue haze of the ancestral plane. She looked just as Rhea remembered her: elegant, sharp-eyed, and fierce even in death. The wisps of her spirit-light flickered, ethereal and soft, but her presence was grounding.

Rhea didn't even try to hide the emotion in her voice.

"Gran, I just don't get it." Her tone was raw, brimming with helplessness. "She's standing right in front of me, and I can't touch her. I can't help her. And I'm meant to be the one who can."

Demetria gave a slow nod, folding her translucent hands before her. Her expression was mournful—deeply knowing. This wasn't the first time she'd had to deliver truths her granddaughter didn't want to hear.

"It's a tale as old as time, sweetheart," she said gently, voice echoing with the faint reverberation of spirit. "When two beings are forged of equal power, they cancel each other out. One cannot overpower the other. Your magic neutralizes hers, just as hers blocks yours. That's the price of being her equal."

She took a small, regretful breath. "You and Ares... you can't destroy The Hollow. Not directly."

The words landed hard.

Rhea's hands curled into fists on her knees. Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, she didn't trust herself to speak. The weight of it—the futility—burned beneath her skin.

"Then I need another way," she said finally, voice tight. Her eyes burned with urgency. "I need to unlink Davina. If I can sever their bond—if I can get her out of that twisted hold—then maybe... maybe we still have a chance."

Her voice cracked, just barely. "I can't lose her again, Gran. I can't. Ares... he's barely holding on as it is. Losing her again would destroy him."

Demetria's expression softened with understanding. "And what about you, darling?"

Rhea looked up, blinking against the sudden sting in her eyes.

"It would destroy you too," Demetria continued. "Don't pretend you're made of stone. That girl—she's family. And I know you. You've always loved too fiercely. It's your greatest strength. And your greatest wound."