Chapter 1: Just a guy with wings
Landon Kirby was used to being the guy in the background. He'd been a foster kid most of his life, moving from place to place, never really settling down. For a long time, he believed he wasn't anything special. He was just… Landon. Quiet, unsure, invisible. That was, until he found himself at the Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted—a place filled with vampires, witches, werewolves, and now… him. A guy who burst into flames and came back to life.
A phoenix, they told him.
That word still sounded weird in his head.
Right now, Landon was lying on his bed in his dorm, arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The faint hum of magic buzzed through the air—probably a spell someone was practicing down the hall. His roommate Rafael was out training with the wolves. Landon had tried that once. He got tackled. Hard.
He sighed.
"Why am I the only supernatural creature with no idea what I'm doing?" he muttered.
The ceiling, as always, didn't answer.
---
Later that day, Landon sat at the back of Dr. Saltzman's history class. Hope Mikaelson was three rows in front of him, her pen moving quickly as she took notes. Landon tried to focus, but his mind kept wandering. He didn't understand half the creatures they talked about. Demons, siphoners, tribrids… every word felt like a reminder that he didn't belong here.
When class ended, he grabbed his notebook and followed the crowd out. He wasn't even paying attention until a hand grabbed his arm.
"You okay?" Hope asked.
Her voice always had this steady calmness to it. Like everything would be fine, just because she said so.
"Yeah," Landon said, forcing a smile. "Just tired."
"Liar," she said, but smiled too. "Come on. Walk with me."
They strolled outside, past the courtyard and toward the woods. Hope kicked a rock with her boot as they walked.
"I know it's hard," she said after a while. "You're still figuring out who you are."
Landon nodded. "I don't even know what I am."
Hope looked at him. "You're Landon. That's enough for now."
He wanted to believe that.
---
That night, Landon had a dream.
He stood in a field, but it wasn't Mystic Falls. The sky was dark and cloudy, thunder rumbling in the distance. In front of him was a car. A black 1967 Chevy Impala. The headlights were off, but the engine was running.
A man stood beside it. Tall, leather jacket, short hair, serious eyes. He looked like he belonged in a war zone.
"Who are you?" Landon asked.
The man just stared.
Then, the dream shattered like glass.
Landon woke up sweating, the sheets tangled around his legs. His heart was racing.
"What the hell was that?"
---
The next morning, he went to see Alaric.
The headmaster's office smelled like old books and coffee. Alaric was scribbling notes in a thick leather journal when Landon knocked and stepped in.
"Landon," he said, looking up. "What brings you here?"
"I… had a dream. And I know that sounds dumb, but it felt real."
Alaric leaned back in his chair. "Tell me about it."
Landon described the field, the thunder, the man, the car. When he mentioned the Impala, Alaric's eyebrows rose.
"You said it was a black Chevy Impala? '67?"
Landon nodded.
Alaric got up and went to one of the bookshelves. Instead of pulling a book, he opened a locked drawer and took out an old file.
"This is going to sound strange," he said, "but I know that car."
Landon blinked. "Wait, seriously?"
Alaric nodded. "It belonged to a man named Dean Winchester. He and his brother Sam were… hunters."
"Hunters? Like… monster hunters?"
"Exactly. They saved people. Dealt with supernatural threats across the country. For years."
Landon frowned. "Why would I be dreaming about them?"
"That's what I want to find out."
---
For the next few days, Landon couldn't shake the dream. He saw the Impala in flashes—while brushing his teeth, in the reflection of a window, in his sketchbook when he wasn't even trying to draw it.
Then the nightmares started.
In them, he saw fire. Screaming. A woman's voice calling his name. And always, always… that man with the leather jacket.
One night, he woke up to find ashes in his bed.
Real ashes. Not from a fireplace. Not from a dream.
From him.
---
The next morning, Alaric called him into his office again. This time, Hope was there too.
"We did some digging," Alaric said. "Hope helped."
Landon glanced at her. She gave him a small nod.
"We looked through old adoption records," Alaric continued. "Birth certificates, closed files… and we found something."
He handed Landon a folder.
Inside was a birth record. Not his usual one.
Name: Landon James Winchester
Mother: Seylah Kirby
Father: Johnathan Winchester
Landon stared at it.
"What—?"
Alaric spoke gently. "Seylah never told you who your father was. She went off the grid before you were born. But from the records, your father was part of the Winchester bloodline."
Landon's hands trembled.
"So… I'm one of them? A hunter?"
"You have their blood," Alaric said. "But your mother was something else. That's where the phoenix comes from. The combination might be why your powers are so unique."
Hope stepped forward. "This doesn't change who you are, Landon. But it might help explain it."
Landon shook his head slowly. "I don't know what I am anymore."
Alaric gave him a kind smile. "Then it's time you started finding out."
---
That evening, Landon sat alone in the woods behind the school, watching the sky change colors as the sun set. The folder was still in his lap. He hadn't stopped reading it all day.
A Winchester. A phoenix. A nobody… who might actually be a somebody.
He thought about Rafael. About Hope. About how many times he'd felt like he didn't belong. But maybe this was why. Maybe his story was never meant to be simple.
He closed his eyes and whispered to the wind, "If I'm a hunter… then I want to learn. I want to fight. I want to protect the people I love."
And deep in the trees, something stirred.
Not something evil.
Something waiting.
---
End of Chapter 1