The pyres were set in the courtyard, a grim display of justice. The air was thick with tension, the flickering torchlight casting long, eerie shadows over the assembled crowd. The vampires, bound and gagged with chains laced in vervain, were dragged forward by deputies. Their expressions ranged from fury to terror, but none more so than the mayor's.
Mayor Lockwood stumbled as the deputies shoved him toward the pyre. His once-confident demeanor was shattered, his face pale and slick with sweat. His eyes darted frantically, seeking Carol in the crowd. "Please! I'm not one of them!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation.
Carol fought against the deputies holding her back, her hands clawing at their arms. "You're making a mistake!" she screamed, her voice cracking with panic. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled. "He's my husband! He's not a vampire! He's not one of them!"
Sheriff Forbes stood a few feet away, her face stony. She held the radio in one hand, her jaw tight as she avoided Carol's pleading gaze. It was clear the sheriff found no satisfaction in this grim duty, but she didn't waver. "He was affected by the artifact," she said quietly to one of the deputies. "That's all the confirmation we need."
The vampires hissed and growled, their struggles causing the chains to rattle loudly. The leader, his face twisted with rage, spat at the ground. "You'll regret this!" he snarled. "All of you! We'll never stop—"
His words were cut off as a deputy struck him across the face, silencing him with a cold efficiency that sent a chill through the crowd.
Grayson stood off to the side, his hands clenched into fists. He couldn't bring himself to look at Carol or the mayor. His eyes were locked on the pyre, his mind racing with guilt and doubt. This wasn't how he'd imagined it. This wasn't justice—it was carnage.
Viktor and the Mikaelsons watched with unsettling calm. Freya stood with her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the mayor as though he were a puzzle she was deciding whether to solve or discard. "Fascinating," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the commotion.
Kol smirked, the torchlight reflecting in his mischievous eyes. "A bit dramatic, don't you think?" he quipped, leaning toward Elijah, who remained statuesque and impassive.
Rebekah, who had lingered out of curiosity, glanced at the scene with disdain. "Humans and their theatrics," she muttered under her breath, turning to leave. "I've seen enough."
Henrik stood near her, his expression conflicted. His wide eyes darted between the vampires, the mayor, and Carol, who was still screaming. "They're afraid," he said softly, his voice tinged with something close to sympathy.
Rebekah scoffed, her tone sharp. "Fear won't save them now."
The crowd quieted as the first torch was thrown onto the pyre. Flames roared to life, their hungry tongues licking at the night sky. The vampires screamed, their voices raw and inhuman as the vervain-coated chains burned into their flesh. The stench of burning bodies filled the air, causing some of the onlookers to gag or turn away.
Mayor Lockwood's cries rose above the rest. His voice was no longer that of a man but of someone utterly broken. "Carol!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Help me! Please!"
Carol fell to her knees, her hands clutching at her chest as sobs wracked her body. "No! No! He's not one of them! Please, stop!" Her voice grew hoarse, and she collapsed into the arms of a bystander who tried to console her.
Viktor watched the mayor burn with a detached expression, his sharp features illuminated by the firelight. "And so, the truth reveals itself," he said softly, almost to himself. His smirk faded into a thoughtful line, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.
Grayson turned to Viktor, his voice trembling with anger. "You knew this would happen, didn't you? You knew he'd be caught in the artifact's effect!"
Viktor tilted his head, his smirk returning faintly. "I suspected," he admitted, his tone calm, almost bored. "But the artifact doesn't lie. If he was affected, he wasn't entirely innocent."
Grayson's fists tightened, his knuckles turning white. "You're playing with people's lives."
Kol let out a low chuckle, sauntering over to Grayson with a mocking grin. "Oh, come now," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did you really think there'd be no casualties in your little crusade?"
Freya stepped between them, her hand raised to silence Kol. "Enough," she said sharply. Her eyes bore into Grayson's, her expression unreadable. "What's done is done. Focus on the aftermath."
Grayson turned away, his stomach churning as the flames consumed the pyre. Carol's sobs echoed in his ears, a haunting reminder of the cost of their actions. As the last of the screams died away, the crowd began to disperse, leaving only ashes and unanswered questions behind.
A/N
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