Corey sat on the low couch in the main parlor of the Abattoir, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped. The room still smelled faintly of blood and old magic. He kept his eyes on the floor, half expecting the walls to close in on him. Every few seconds his gaze flicked toward the hallway where the bodies had been carried earlier. He hadn't run. That surprised him more than anything else.
Malia walked in without announcing herself. She stopped a few feet away, studying him the way her father studied threats—quiet, assessing, but not hostile. After a moment she crossed the room and sat down beside him, leaving a careful space between them.
"Thank you," she said. Her voice was low. "For bringing them back. Damon and Katherine. Most people would've left the bodies and run. You didn't even know them."
Corey let out a short, shaky breath. "It wasn't an easy decision. Honestly, the second those witches vanished I almost bolted. My brain was screaming at me to get out of the city before the Mikaelsons found out. But then I thought… I didn't do anything wrong. I was just there. A witness. Still took everything I had to walk through those doors. Sage's files on your family are thorough. Reading them is one thing. Standing in front of your father while he holds you off the ground is something else. I really thought I was going to die."
Malia's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "My dad is a monster when he wants to be. But he's not stupid. He doesn't kill people without reason. You walked in with their bodies and told the truth. That's why you're still breathing." She tilted her head, looking at him more carefully. "What's your name?"
"Corey."
"Corey," she repeated, testing the sound. "Nice to meet you. Properly this time."
She started to stand, then paused, glancing back down at him. Something in her eyes shifted—recognition, or maybe curiosity mixed with old memory.
"Are you a chameleon?"
Corey blinked. Most people didn't even know the word. "Yeah. I am."
Malia's expression softened into something harder to read. "Of course you would be."
She left without another word. The moment the door closed behind her, her mind drifted. Another life. Another town. Beacon Hills. A boy with the same name, the same ability to vanish into walls and people. She hadn't thought about that version of Corey in years, not since the reincarnation and the new rules of this world. Finding one here felt like the universe had a strange sense of humor. Or maybe a warning.
She shook the thought off and kept walking.
---
Hours later the front gates of the compound opened again. Two figures stepped through the courtyard under the heavy night air. Lexi Branson kept a steady hand on Stefan Salvatore's arm, guiding him more than leading him. Stefan looked wrecked. His usual controlled posture was gone. Shoulders slumped, eyes red-rimmed, jaw locked so tight the muscle jumped. He hadn't spoken much since the call.
Lexi had tried everything on the drive in—quiet words, shared silence, the occasional squeeze of his hand. Nothing reached him. He only repeated the same broken sentence under his breath.
"He's gone. He's actually gone."
They entered the main hall. The family was already waiting in scattered positions. Viktor stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Klaus and Hayley were close together on the couch. Elijah, Freya, Kol, and Malia filled the rest of the space. The air felt thick with restrained power.
Stefan stopped just inside the doorway. His gaze locked on Viktor.
"Where are they?"
Viktor nodded toward the side room. "We prepared them. You can see them whenever you're ready."
Stefan's voice cracked. "Ready? How the hell am I supposed to be ready for this?" He took a step forward, the grief turning sharp. "You said they were safe here. You said the city was under control. My brother is dead, Viktor. Katherine too. And you're standing there like this is just another Tuesday."
Lexi put a hand on his chest. "Stefan—"
He shrugged her off, not roughly, but with the kind of exhausted force that came from too much pain. "Don't. I know you're trying. But don't tell me to calm down. Damon was an asshole half the time, but he was my brother. He was supposed to outlive all of us. Not die in some bar because a teenage witch decided to make a statement."
Viktor didn't flinch. "I know what they meant to me. To this family. That's why New Orleans is about to learn exactly how much."
Stefan laughed once, bitter and empty. "Painting the city red won't bring him back."
"No," Viktor agreed. "But it will make sure no one else tries the same thing."
Lexi finally managed to pull Stefan a few steps farther into the room. She kept her voice soft, the way she always had when he was at his worst. "We'll go see them. Together. Then we figure out the rest. You're not alone in this, Stefan. You never have been."
He didn't answer. He just let her guide him toward the side room, every step heavy. The door closed behind them with a quiet click that somehow felt louder than any shouted argument.
In the parlor, silence settled again. Malia watched the closed door for a long moment, then glanced toward the hallway where Corey still sat alone. The chameleon had brought her father's first bloods home. That earned him a place, at least for now. Whether it earned him trust was another question entirely.
Viktor's voice cut through the quiet, low and final.
"Everyone rest while you can. At sunrise, I will make the first move, I and Stefan would move against the witches, while Lexi would talk to the human faction and have them prepare for the bloodbath against them."
No one argued.