The forest was still.
\nNo birds. No wind. Only the slow, ragged rhythm of Klaus’s breathing and the faint rustle of leaves beneath his boots.
\nElijah lay in the dirt, motionless — the white oak wound dark against his chest, his neck bent at an impossible angle. Klaus knelt beside him, mud streaked through his bloodied fingers. The small, blood-slick bullet sat in his palm, deceptively harmless now.
\nHe stared at it for a long moment. It had nearly ended his brother — his Elijah — and he’d been the one to stop it, with violence that still trembled through his bones.
\n“I broke your neck,” he muttered under his breath. “To save you. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”
\nNo answer.
\nElijah’s stillness was the kind that gnawed — the kind that whispered of permanence.
\nKlaus dragged a shaky hand through his hair, his voice cracking when he tried again. “I had to stop your heart before it reached it. I had no choice.”
\nHe looked down at the bullet — small, precise, carved for destruction. “I would have burned the world to stop this, brother. And instead, I stopped you.”
\nThe silence pressed in. Every second without breath felt heavier.
\nThen — a sound. A faint crack, a shift. The subtle grind of bones knitting. Klaus froze, eyes fixed on the body before him. Elijah’s chest rose once, shallow but sure.
\nKlaus leaned forward. “Come on. That’s it.”
\nA sharp inhale — a gasp — and Elijah’s eyes flew open, glassy, disoriented. “Niklaus…”
\nKlaus exhaled a laugh that almost broke halfway through. “You’re late.”
\nElijah blinked, lifting a hand to his chest. “You broke my neck.”
\n“Yes,” Klaus said, no hesitation, only quiet conviction. “The bullet was too close. I had to stop it from reaching your heart.”
\nElijah looked at him, voice soft. “You saved me.”
\nKlaus turned away, the ghost of a smirk hiding what lay underneath. “Don’t thank me. You die too theatrically.”
\nA faint chuckle escaped Elijah’s throat. “Aurora?”
\n“Gone,” Klaus said, his tone hardening. “But not for long.”
\nElijah pushed himself upright, steadied himself against a tree. Even bloodied and shaken, he carried the same impossible grace. “You shouldn’t have had to make that choice.”
\nKlaus’s gaze lifted, unflinching. “I’d make it again.”
\nFor a moment, they stood in silence — brothers in the stillness, bound by something far stronger than blood.
\nThen the air shifted — a shimmer of magic rippling through the clearing.
\nFreya appeared at the edge of the trees, her expression tight with urgency, eyes searching until they found Elijah. She rushed forward, kneeling beside him, hands glowing faintly with power as she pressed them to his chest.
\n“Elijah,” she breathed, the relief sharp and bright in her voice. She looked up at Klaus, eyes wide. “I felt it — his heart stopped.”
\nKlaus’s voice was calm, but raw at the edges. “I stopped it. The bullet was too close.”
\nFreya stared at him, torn between horror and gratitude. “You could have lost him.”
\n“I nearly did.”
\nElijah stirred under her touch, his tone dry but steady. “If we’re quite finished discussing my near-demise…” He pushed himself to his feet with Freya’s help. “We have work to do.”
\nKlaus let out a faint, incredulous huff. “You were dead five minutes and already you’re issuing orders.”
\n“Someone has to.”
\nKlaus’s smirk returned, faint but real. “Then let’s see to it that Aurora regrets every breath she’s still taking.”
\nThe three of them turned toward the dark, the forest closing around their path.
\nBehind them, the clearing fell silent once more — save for the whisper of wind through the trees, and the faint, steady beat of Elijah’s newly restarted heart.
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