The sea raged as I stepped onto the cursed island, the wind heavy with the stench of ancient magic. This was where Silas had been entombed, where Amara had been bound, and where the witch who damned them both still lingered.
I carved the circle, lit the flames, and spoke the words. The veil shuddered, the air grew cold, and then her voice filled the night.
"Who dares summon me?"
I smirked. "Niklaus Mikaelson. Perhaps you've heard of me."
A hollow laugh echoed through the darkness. "Ah… the bastard hybrid. Wolf, vampire, witch — a tribrid abomination. Yes, I know of you. Tell me, what could you want from me?"
I stepped closer to the altar, my voice steady. "Silas. Amara. Their curse has poisoned the world for too long. Doppelgängers born again and again, shackled by your vengeance. I want it ended."
Her voice cracked like thunder. "Ended? I loved Silas. I was to be his bride. I made him an immortality elixir so we could be together forever. But he betrayed me. He gave it to Amara, my handmaiden, and chose her instead. So I cured Amara, I slit her throat, and I entombed him with the cure in his grasp. Every day he could choose to die, and every day he refused. The doppelgängers are the echoes of that betrayal. My vengeance made flesh."
I smirked faintly. "And yet they mock you. Each face is another reminder of your pain. How long will you let your failure repeat itself? You want vengeance, then let me finish it. I will end Silas. I will end Amara. And when I do, no more doppelgängers will ever be born."
There was silence. Then, soft and hesitant: "…and what do you ask in return?"
"Time," I said. "Two more must be born — Stefan and Elena. Their lives are part of the balance. Once they exist, once they play their part, I will strike. Silas and Amara will be given the cure. And when they die, the cycle dies with them."
Her spirit hissed, suspicious. "Why should I trust you? Silas wanted eternity for love. You want power. Why would you keep your word?"
"Because their curse threatens me," I answered without hesitation. "As long as Silas and Amara remain, hunters and witches rise against me. Their faces stir chaos in every generation. Ending them serves you, and it serves me."
The fire flared violently. Then her voice came again, low and weary.
"…Very well. Let their shadows be born. When they walk the earth, you will finish what I began. End them both. Break the cycle. Fail me, and my wrath will follow you beyond death."
The air grew still. Her presence faded. My smirk lingered. "Then we have a deal."
Mystic Falls, 1847
Centuries passed, and at last, one shadow was born. In the quiet town of Mystic Falls, Stefan Salvatore drew his first breath — Silas's echo made flesh.
The time had come to fulfill my promise.
I returned to the island, the cure in hand. The tomb was as cold and lifeless as ever, its stones whispering with Qetsiyah's magic.
I looked down at Silas's body, smirking. "Your shadow breathes, old one. That means your time has ended."
I forced the cure between his lips. For a heartbeat, nothing. Then he convulsed violently, his eyes flying open in shock as centuries of immortality drained from him. His flesh shriveled, his body collapsing into true death.
Silas, the first immortal, was gone.
Half the Curse Broken
The flames guttered low, and her voice filled the chamber once more.
"You have done it. Silas is no more. Half the curse is broken. His echo is free — Stefan may choose to love Elena, or he may choose another. It is no longer bound. The chain of obsession is ended."
I tilted my head, smirking. "So the loop is cracked. Their love may happen, but it will be choice, not destiny."
"Yes," she whispered. "But Amara remains. Her suffering, her echoes, her doppelgängers. Until she is ended, the cycle will not die. One half broken, one half still chained."
I looked down at Silas's corpse, lips curling in satisfaction. "Then I wait. When Elena Gilbert is born, I will end Amara with the cure, and with her, the doppelgänger curse dies forever."
The sea roared as I left the tomb, cloak snapping in the wind. One half of the bargain fulfilled. One century yet to wait.