The sun hung low over Mystic Falls as the Salvatore School group made their way back from the woods, the SUV's tires crunching gravel like bones underfoot.
Back at school, Alaric herded them into the infirmary for quick checks. Josie and Lizzie's blisters were spelled away by Emma, the counselor, her hands glowing with soft white light.
MG nursed a bruised rib, popping a blood bag like a juice box. Hope paced, knife tucked away, her expression a storm cloud of focus and frustration.
"You're sure you're okay?" Alaric asked James, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "That shield… it wasn't witch magic. Felt different."
James nodded, rubbing his arms as if chilled. "Yeah. Just… instinct. Like the fire dreams, but wetter." He forced a weak laugh, playing the overwhelmed newbie.
Alaric's eyes softened. "We'll figure it out tomorrow. For now, rest. The memorial's in a couple hours—town square. We're all going. Pay respects, keep an eye out for anything off."
The group dispersed, but Hope lingered by the door. "Hey, Landon. Walk with me?"
They strolled the grounds as dusk fell, fireflies winking like tiny spells. The air was thick with the scent of pine and impending rain—water calling to him, subtle as a whisper. Hope's presence was a gravity well: fierce, guarded, but cracking at the edges.
"That was brave," she said finally. "Jumping in like that. Most newbies would've run."
"I was scared," he admitted, voice low.
Landon's memories supplied the tremor, real grief for Rafael bubbling up, mixing with James's own isolation from his old life. "But after Raf… losing him… I couldn't just stand there. Felt like if I didn't act, it'd happen again."
She nodded, eyes distant. "I get that. Loss… it changes you. Makes you fight harder, or break." Her voice caught, a rare fissure. Klaus. Hayley. The Mikaelson curse. James knew the lore, but hearing the pain in her tone made it human.
Rational pivot: ground it. "Your family—I've heard stories. In town, people whisper. You're like… a legend here."
Hope huffed a laugh, bitter-sweet. "Legend? More like a cautionary tale. Dad was the big bad hybrid. Mom… she tried to protect me from it all."
She stopped by a bench overlooking the lake, sitting with a sigh. James joined her, the wood cool under his palms.
The memorial loomed, but for now, this moment felt suspended. Then, the air shimmered—familiar blue glow. The screen appeared, visible only to him, text crisp.
GARGOYLE ATTACK DELAYED FOR 2 DAYS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
James blinked, the words sinking in. No attack tonight. Space to breathe. To connect. The screen faded, leaving him with a rational calm: time bought, use it wisely.
The town square was transformed by evening: strings of lights draped between lampposts, a makeshift stage with microphones, rows of folding chairs facing a wall of photos, smiling faces of the bus victims, candles flickering at their bases.
Mystic Falls turned out in force: families huddled in black, the sheriff barking orders to deputies, a choir humming somber hymns.
Alaric and the twins mingled with locals, Josie offering hugs, Lizzie scanning for threats. MG stuck to the shadows, avoiding sunlight's last rays.
James and Hope found seats near the back, the crowd's murmur a low hum of shared sorrow. The mayor spoke first, voice cracking over the PA: "Tonight, we remember our loss: Cassie, Dana, Sasha… taken too soon in a tragic accident." Lies, of course, dragon's work, but the town clung to them like lifelines.
Emotional wave hit as a slideshow played: kids laughing at football games, prom nights, family barbecues. James felt Landon's grief mirror his own—New York felt eons away, his old life a ghost. A tear slipped down his cheek; he wiped it angrily.
Hope noticed, her hand brushing his. "You okay?"
He shook his head. "Knew a couple of them. Not well, but… school stuff. Lockers next to mine. Raf would've been on that bus if he were alive." The words tumbled, raw. "It's like everything's fragile here. One wrong turn, and poof."
She squeezed his hand, her touch warm against the cooling night. "I know. My family's… gone. Dad sacrificed himself to save me. Mom died protecting the pack."
Her voice wavered, eyes glistening under the lights. "You think you're strong, but grief? It hollows you out."
They sat in silence as a mother took the stage, sobbing through a eulogy. James leaned closer, rational mind mapping the connection: shared loss as foundation.
"How do you keep going? With all this… magic, monsters?"
Hope turned, her face inches from his, auburn hair catching the candlelight. "You fight. For the people left. Like today—with the dragon. You didn't hesitate." Her eyes searched his, vulnerable. "Why water? The dreams were fire."
He hesitated, crafting truth from fragments. "Balance, maybe. Fire destroys, water heals. Or drowns. Felt right. Like something inside me woke up."
She nodded slowly. "I've felt that. My wolf side—it's rage, instinct. Witch side is control, spells. But together… it's me."
A pause, the crowd applauding a performance. "You're not alone in this, Landon. Whatever you are, we'll figure it out."
The service dragged, speeches blending into one another. Alaric glanced their way once, approving nod. The twins lit candles with subtle magic, flames dancing without wind.
But no gargoyle stirred—no stone rumble, no attack. The delay held, a gift from the system.
As the crowd thinned, Hope stood, pulling him with her. "Walk? Away from this."
They wandered the square's edges, past vendors packing up wreaths, into a quieter alley lined with benches and blooming night jasmine. The emotional weight pressed: grief's echo in every shadow.
"Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it," James said, voice soft. "Staying. Fighting. Raf died pointless, car crash, no monster, just bad luck." Landon's memories supplied details: screeching tires, twisted metal, a brother's scream cut short.
Hope stopped, facing him. "It's always worth it. Because if we don't, who will? The normals? They'd burn." Her hand found his again, fingers intertwining. He thought: she's opening up. reciprocate. "But yeah… it hurts. Every day. I miss them so much it aches."
He pulled her into a hug—impulsive, but right. She stiffened, then melted, head on his shoulder. Tears dampened his shirt; he held her, water power stirring subtly, a gentle mist cooling the air around them. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "For all of it."
She pulled back, wiping her eyes, a small smile breaking through. "Don't be. You're here now. That's something."
They sat on a bench, the square emptying behind them. Discussions flowed: school logistics, her favorite spells (levitation for pranks), his "dreams" hinting at phoenix without spoiling. "If I'm something… water guy… what does that mean?"
"Means you're special," she said firmly. "We'll train you. Alaric's good at that."
The night deepened, stars piercing the sky like pinpricks. No gargoyle. Two days' grace. James felt the weight lift, a plan forming: observe, adapt, grow closer.
As they walked back to the SUV, Hope's hand lingered in his. "Thanks for tonight, Landon. Felt… real."
He blushed again, that boyish flush.
"Anytime."
Back at school, lights out, James lay in his dorm, staring at the ceiling. The delay was a boon, time to solidify his place.