It had been two days since the dryad incident. The name "Malivore" had rippled through the school like a bad rumor, leaving Alaric buried in research and the students on edge. No new monsters had shown up, which was both a relief and a suspicion.
James—still perfectly disguised as Landon Kirby—had played his part flawlessly. He attended classes, helped with chores, and kept his Inventory a secret.
But today felt different.
James sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the worn wooden floorboards. The room was sparse— a single bed, a desk cluttered with borrowed grimoires, and a window overlooking the misty Virginia woods.
He had just returned from breakfast, where Hope had shot him a lingering glance across the dining hall. Her eyes, those piercing blue ones, held questions he wasn't ready to answer. Not yet.
He leaned back, rubbing his temples. Landon's body—his body now—felt more natural every day. The possession had been seamless, but there were echoes.
Faint memories of foster homes, loss, and a brother who no longer existed in this timeline. Rafael's death had left a void, one James exploited to slip into the Salvatore circle.
But power? That was his alone. Fire manipulation, water mastery, the Inventory. Gifts from those rare holographic screens that appeared like divine interventions.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the air in front of him shimmered.
A floating holographic screen materialized, glowing with ethereal blue light. No fanfare, no warning—just there, hovering at eye level.
The Necromancer will not appear for now.
James frowned. The Necromancer—that was the next monster in the canon timeline. A chatty undead wizard with a flair for drama and resurrection. Skipping him? That meant the story was diverging further, timelines bending to whatever force controlled these screens. Fine by him. Less chaos meant more time to consolidate.
The screen flickered, new text appearing below.
Would you like to merge your ability: Fire with your dormant Phoenix lineage?
Note: It will awaken your Phoenix lineage as a result, which allows you to be reborn from the ashes when you die. Your Phoenix lineage will be merged with your soul, so even if you leave Landon's body, you will have them.
James's breath caught. Phoenix lineage? Landon—in the original show—had been revealed as a phoenix, Malivore's son, with resurrection powers.
But in this altered universe, that bloodline had lain dormant, untouched by the possession. Merging it with his fire ability?
That sounded like an upgrade. Immortality lite, tied to his soul, not the body. Even if he ditched Landon's form someday, he'd keep it.
His fire, now amplified by phoenix traits? Rebirth from ashes? Yes. A thousand times yes.
"I accept," he said aloud, voice steady.
The screen pulsed once, brightly, then vanished.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, heat bloomed in his chest.
It started as a warm tingle, like sipping hot cocoa on a winter day. But it built quickly, spreading through his veins like liquid flame. James gasped, doubling over as his skin prickled.
His hands ignited—not painfully, but with controlled fire that danced across his palms in vibrant oranges and reds. The flames twisted, forming shapes: wings, feathers, a bird rising from embers.
Inside, something shifted. A spark ignited in his core, awakening. He felt it—the phoenix essence, raw and ancient, merging with his fire manipulation. No longer just control over flames; now it was part of him. Elemental and mythical intertwined.
The heat peaked, a brief inferno that made his vision blur, then subsided. James slumped back, breathing heavily. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he felt... stronger. Invincible, almost.
He flexed his fingers, summoning a small fireball. It hovered, then morphed into a miniature phoenix, flapping ethereal wings before dissipating.
"Holy shit," he muttered, a grin spreading across his face. Rebirth. Soul-bound. This changed everything.
He glanced at the clock. Two hours until his next class. Free time. Perfect.
Hope Mikaelson was in the greenhouse when he found her. The glass-walled structure was a haven of green, filled with exotic plants that whispered secrets to witches and bloomed under moonlight.
She was tending to a cluster of wolfsbane, her dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail, sleeves rolled up as she pruned leaves with careful precision.
James watched her for a moment from the doorway. In the show, Hope had been a force, tribrid(in future), daughter of legends, carrying the weight of her family's curses.
Here, she was that and more: vulnerable, fierce, and drawing him in like gravity. Their bond had grown fast—dances, monster hunts, late-night talks about loss. But since the dryad, something had deepened. Trust, maybe. Or the spark of something real.
"Hey," he said, stepping inside.
She looked up, a smile lighting her face. "Landon. Skipping history again?"
"Alaric's lecturing on the Gemini Coven. Figured I'd learn more here." He leaned against a potting table, casual. "What about you? Hiding from Lizzie's latest drama?"
Hope laughed softly, setting down her shears. "Something like that. Josie's campaigning for the honor council, and Lizzie's... well, Lizzie. It's exhausting."
James nodded, moving closer. The air smelled of earth and herbs, grounding. "Need a break? I could use one too."
She tilted her head, curious. "What did you have in mind?"
"Walk by the lake? Show you something cool."
Her eyes sparkled. "Cool, like your monster collection?"
"Better."
They slipped out the back door, weaving through the gardens toward the shimmering lake that bordered the school grounds. The January air was crisp, but not biting. Virginia winters were mild, leaves crunching underfoot in shades of gold and brown.
Students dotted the lawns: werewolves tossing a frisbee, witches practicing levitation spells. No one paid them much attention.
As they reached the water's edge, James felt the phoenix fire humming beneath his skin. But he pushed it aside for now. Water first. Show off a little. Bond more.
They sat on a weathered dock, feet dangling over the rippling surface. Hope pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them.
"So, what's this 'cool' thing?"
James grinned. "Watch."
He extended a hand toward the lake.
Concentration flowed through him—imagination the key, as always. Water rose in response, a tendril spiraling up like a living snake. It split, forming several orbs that hovered in the air, crystal clear and shimmering in the sunlight.
Hope's eyes widened. "Water manipulation? When did you—?"
"After the dragon," he said, keeping it vague. No need to mention trades or screens. "It just... clicked."
He focused harder. The orbs multiplied—five, ten—dancing in a lazy orbit around them. Then, with a flick of his wrist, they reshaped.
Spears of water hardened into ice-like tridents, floating menacingly before softening back to liquid and splashing harmlessly into the lake.
Hope stared, then laughed—a genuine, delighted sound. "That's incredible. You're full of surprises, Landon Kirby."
"Only the good kind, I hope."
She turned to him, expression softening. "Definitely the good kind."
The moment stretched. Wind rustled the trees, carrying the faint scent of pine. James felt the pull— that connection, electric and undeniable.
He reached out, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Hope... about the other night. With the dryad. I didn't mean to take over like that."
"You helped," she said quietly. "You always do. Even when you're hiding stuff."
"I'm not hiding everything."
"No?" She arched a brow, playful. "Then tell me something real."
He hesitated, then decided. Partial truth. "I feel like I don't belong here sometimes. Like I'm piecing together who I am. But with you... it makes sense."
Her gaze held his. Vulnerability mirrored back. "I get that. More than you know."
She leaned in first.
The kiss was deep, unexpected. Her lips pressed against his, soft and insistent, tasting faintly of mint from breakfast tea.
James's world narrowed to that point of contact—warmth spreading through him, not from fire or phoenix, but something human. He kissed back, hand cupping her cheek, pulling her closer.
It lasted longer than he expected. Seconds blurred into a minute, breaths mingling, hearts syncing. When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright.
James felt heat rise to his face—a blush, genuine and unbidden. Him, blushing? The 21-year-old New Yorker in a 17-year-old's body, master of elements and monsters, reduced to this?
Hope noticed, smirking. "Did I just make Landon Kirby blush?"
"Maybe," he admitted, chuckling. "First time for everything."
She laughed again, leaning her head on his shoulder. They sat like that, watching the water lap at the dock. No words needed. Just presence.
Inside, James's mind whirred. The phoenix awakening hummed approval. This bond with Hope—it was strategic, yes. But also... real? He pushed the thought aside.
As they walked back hand-in-hand, James felt the fire in his soul flicker brighter. Ready for whatever came next.