Chapter Text
Time, they say, is the great healer of wounds. Its passage is supposed to mend the cracks in our souls and bandage the scars of our hearts. But the deeper the loss, the sharper the pain, and the more arduous the journey back to wholeness. Though the agony may fade, the scars persist, each one a stubborn reminder of past suffering. They harden us, resolve us never to be vulnerable again. In the relentless march of days, distractions consume us, frustrations flare, anger simmers, and aggression becomes our armor. We plot and plan, waiting to emerge stronger, until one day, we find ourselves healed, ready to start anew.
For a millennium, I had moved heaven and earth to protect my family—my blood. Yes, I had daggered them, ensconced them in coffins, and carted them through the centuries. But every action was borne of love, a desperate attempt to shield them from harm.
Finn, my tormented brother, longed for death, often seeking Mikael's wrath as a means to an end. He despised his vampiric existence, an unchanging loathing that time couldn’t cure.
Then there was Kol, the mischievous spirit among us. He cavorted with witches and unleashed chaos, drawing Mikael to our doorstep. Yet, no matter his deeds, Kol was my brother, my kin, my blood.
Rebekah, my cherished sister, gave her heart too freely, trusting too easily. Daggering her was an act of protection, a measure to keep her safe.
"I promise, always and forever," I declared. They were my family, and no passage of time could alter that truth.
In moments of anger, Elijah, Rebekah, or Kol would call me paranoid, temperamental, a backstabbing brother. Their words confused me, for could they not see? Everything I did was to protect them. This misunderstanding wounded me more deeply than I cared to admit.
Years of humiliation and abuse at Mikael's hands, combined with Esther's cold indifference and rejection, drove me to a dark place. In a moment of vengeance, I killed my own mother, who had betrayed me. From then on, I shut off my humanity, sparing it only for my family, and woe to those who dared cross my path.
Klaus, the abomination—that’s what they called me, for upsetting nature's balance by becoming a hybrid. But how could I be blamed for something beyond my control? The curse of being an "imbalance" in nature was not of my own making.
Then there was another—a soul whose story echoed mine, yet ended in tragedy. Inadu, known as The Hollow, was a powerful Native American witch whose strength only grew in death.
Born to a tribe of witches, Inadu was bestowed with immense power by the Elders throughout her mother's pregnancy, a beacon of hope and prosperity. But fear of her strength led four of the tribe's strongest elders to forge a mighty ax, imbuing it with magic. Her own mother was tasked with wielding it against her.
In her final moments, Inadu cast a potent spell, fueled by her impending death. She created the werewolf curse, binding those present to the full moon's power. They were transformed into the very beasts that once pursued her. Thus began the seven original bloodlines of werewolves, with her mother becoming the first of the Crescent.
As I reflect on these tales, on the burdens we bear and the legacies we inherit, I realize that time alone cannot heal us. It is through understanding, through confronting our past and embracing our truths, that we find the strength to move forward. Inadu’s story is a testament to the power of resilience, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, there lies potential for rebirth.
And so, I continue my journey, with the weight of ages upon my shoulders, determined to protect my family, to honor the promise of "always and forever," and to carve out a new path amidst the shadows of our past.
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