Leaving the Mikaelson estate did not feel like an escape.
It felt like stepping out of deep water after holding my breath for too long, lungs still burning, body unsure whether it was truly safe to inhale. The night air beyond the property was colder, thinner, but the threads beneath my feet refused to settle. They hummed uneasily, stretched and alert, as though the ground itself had not yet decided whether I was welcome.
I walked slowly, deliberately, giving the sensation time to resolve.
The Mikaelsons had not threatened me. That alone was unsettling.
They had listened.
That was worse.
Each step away from the mansion loosened the pressure incrementally, but the threads continued to pull backward, whispering fragments of awareness. The Originals were not the type to forget encounters. I had not merely entered their territory. I had been noticed, measured, and filed away for later consideration.
That attention would not fade.
By the time Mystic Falls came back into view, the town felt subtly different. Not changed in any obvious way, but attentive, like an animal aware of a new presence in its environment. Streetlights glowed softly, casting long shadows across empty sidewalks. Houses stood quiet, their occupants blissfully unaware of how close they lived to forces that could unmake them.
The threads reacted constantly now, adjusting to tiny fluctuations in behavior. Somewhere nearby, a vampire stalked a late-night jogger. I felt the familiar pull, the instinctive urge to intervene. This time, I hesitated.
Not because I couldn't.
Because I was being watched.
I nudged the thread lightly, not enough to force compliance, just enough to shift timing. The jogger slowed, stopping to tie a loose shoelace. The vampire passed without realizing how close the moment had come to disaster.
The thread relaxed.
The watcher did not.
I felt it then. A faint awareness brushing against the edge of my perception. Not Klaus. Not Elijah. This presence was lighter, sharper, infused with restless curiosity.
Damon.
I didn't need to look to know he was nearby. The threads around him always felt slightly jagged, like broken glass smoothed down just enough to handle without bleeding.
"You walk like someone who just survived a very bad idea," his voice said casually from the shadows.
I turned, finding him leaning against a lamppost, posture relaxed but eyes keen. He studied my expression with open interest, gaze flicking briefly to the ground as if he, too, sensed the disturbance beneath us.
"Did I?" I asked.
He smirked. "You tell me. You disappeared, town twitched, and now you look like you've been negotiating with something that doesn't negotiate."
"That obvious?"
"Please," he scoffed. "Mystic Falls notices when the air changes."
The threads shifted faintly as he stepped closer. Damon felt it immediately, brow furrowing for a split second before he masked it with humor.
"Okay," he said. "That's new. Care to explain why the ground feels like it's judging me?"
"It's deciding whether you're a problem," I replied.
He blinked, then laughed. "Wow. Rude."
I started walking again, and after a moment's hesitation, Damon fell into step beside me. He didn't ask questions right away. That restraint told me more than his words ever could.
"You went to see them," he said eventually.
"Yes."
"And you came back in one piece."
"For now."
He glanced at me sideways. "You planning to elaborate, or should I just assume the Originals are now casually aware of your existence?"
"They're aware."
Damon stopped walking.
The threads tightened slightly, reacting to the sudden halt.
"…That's not great," he said slowly.
"No," I agreed. "But it was inevitable."
He stared at the darkened street ahead, jaw tightening. "You don't look surprised."
"I don't have the luxury of being surprised."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Somewhere in the distance, a door closed. A car passed. Life continued, indifferent.
"You're changing things," Damon said quietly.
"Yes."
"People don't like that."
"Balance doesn't require approval."
He exhaled sharply through his nose. "You're either very brave or very reckless."
"Neither," I said. "I'm careful."
That didn't reassure him.