Mystic Falls – A Few Weeks Later
The nights were getting colder, the leaves turning amber and gold. Time passed, but one thing stayed the same—the unspoken rule in Mystic Falls.
Don't provoke an Original.
The last time someone tried, they weren't around to tell the story.
Even now, with Elena suddenly awakening mystical powers, the gang treaded carefully. They all knew what happened to those who had wielded that kind of power before.
The only one who didn't seem to care about the invisible line was Stefan. He had always been different—careful, but not afraid. He was the only one on friendly terms with the Originals, moving in and out of their world like it didn't bother him. Maybe it didn't.
But Mystic Falls was shifting. And Ivar?
Ivar noticed everything.
Hayley had finally settled into Mystic Falls, blending in as if she had always belonged. She played the role well—just another girl in town, working her way into conversations, making connections.
But Ivar knew better.
He had been watching her since the day she arrived.
She was careful, calculated. Pretended she had no ties, no deeper reason for being here. But that was a lie.
For one, she was helping her brother break his sire bond to Klaus—quietly, in the shadows, far away from the eyes of the Hybrid King.
And then there was her other agenda.
Hayley was looking for something. Or someone.
Her parents.
She had been moving carefully, reaching out to those who might have answers. And she wasn't doing it alone.
Professor Shane had come to town a week after she arrived, slipping into Mystic Falls like he belonged, like he wasn't dragging trouble behind him.
He wasn't subtle either.
Late-night meetings, whispered conversations, research that led nowhere and yet, somehow, everywhere.
Ivar watched it all from a distance, piecing it together, letting the story unfold.
He never confronted Hayley. Not yet.
He just watched.
Waited.
Because eventually, the truth would come out.
And when it did?
Well.
That was when things would get interesting.
Later that day
The sky was painted in deep blues and purples, the last traces of daylight slipping beyond the horizon. A soft breeze rolled through the empty streets, rustling the dying leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and something else.
Something… off.
Ivar stood near the clock tower, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the distant woods. From here, he could see the glow of lights near the Lockwood estate, the faint hum of life continuing as usual. But he knew better.
Nothing in Mystic Falls ever stayed "usual" for long.
His gaze flickered toward the boarding house, where he knew Stefan and Damon were probably discussing whatever new chaos had landed at their doorstep. Maybe Elena was there too, struggling with the powers she never asked for. It didn't really concern him.
What did concern him was Professor Shane.
Ivar had seen him before—long before he strolled into Mystic Falls with that smug, all-knowing expression. The man had a way of slithering into situations, always just at the right moment, always pretending to hold the missing piece to whatever puzzle people were desperate to solve.
But Ivar knew something the others didn't.
Silas had been freed from his tomb ages ago.
So what the hell was Shane still doing here?
Unless...
Ivar let out a slow sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Don't tell me it's her.
That jealous ex.
Of course, it had to be her.
Trouble had a way of circling back, no matter how many times you buried it.
His lips curled into a humorless smirk. "I just hope everyone that's died stays dead."
He glanced up at the sky, hands still buried in his jacket pockets. The stars were dim tonight, hidden behind wisps of clouds.
The past felt closer than ever.
Memories flickered at the edges of his mind—faces, voices, laughter that had long since faded.
He had seen so many come and go. So many people who thought they could outsmart fate, cheat death, bend the rules of this world to their will.
And every single time…
It ended the same way.
With blood.
With loss.
With the realization that some things were never meant to be controlled.
Another Cold Night
The news spread fast.
Twelve people. Dead.
Burnt at Young Farm.
Ivar sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, the glow of the screen casting sharp shadows across his face. The article didn't say much—just the usual Mystic Falls cover-up nonsense. A tragic accident. Fire outbreak. Authorities investigating.
He scoffed. Yeah, right.
This wasn't an accident. It wasn't some rogue vampire losing control or a werewolf caught in a frenzy.
This was a ritual.
And he knew exactly who was behind it.
Ivar let out a slow breath, tossing the phone onto the nightstand before rubbing his temples. The headache was already forming.
So it's happening again.
Beside him, Alyssa stirred slightly, the faint glow of the streetlights catching in her dark hair as she slept. Her breathing was slow, steady—completely unaware of the chaos creeping closer with every passing second.
He envied that.
Shaking his head, he leaned back against the headboard, eyes drifting to the ceiling.
He had known Shane was up to something the moment the bastard showed up in town. Had felt it in the way the air shifted, in the way the shadows stretched just a little too long.
But he had hoped—just this once—that he was wrong.
Apparently not.
Ivar sighed, running a hand down his face. "I just wanted peace, man..."
But Mystic Falls never let people like him rest.
His eyes flickered to the window, where the night stretched on, cold and endless.
Twelve sacrifices. A massacre at Young Farm. And a certain jealous ex back in the picture.
Yeah. He knew what was coming.
He also knew what had to be done.
Again.
His gaze drifted back to Alyssa, still curled up beside him, her expression peaceful. At least one of them could sleep easy.
Too bad peace never lasted in this town.
Ivar exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming against his knee.
"Guess I'll just have to kill them again."
His lips twitched into something resembling a smirk—bitter, amused, tired.
"Send them back where they belong."