Out on the Forbes manor's back lawn, Caroline walked Gwen through how she'd been turned into a vampire.
Hawk, meanwhile, was in the shower, texting the lord of Hell.
Yep.
Mephisto had messaged him—inviting him down to Hell for a sit-down.
Normally, Hawk wouldn't be eager.
But…
He was genuinely curious about the Heavenly Dimension—and, as the saying goes:
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Mephisto must've had the same thought after he got home and put the pieces together, which was why the invitation pinged through.
Hawk decided to go.
Caroline's story was going to be long—an entire season's worth—so Gwen wouldn't be done anytime soon. No reason to sit on his hands; a quick hop to Hell and back was fine.
So—
Fresh out of the shower, changed into the pajamas Gwen had packed, he went to her and mentioned Mephisto's invite.
Gwen, still listening to Caroline, blinked at him. "Mephisto again?"
"He got dragged in."
"Right."
She nodded. "Back by Christmas Eve?"
Hawk grinned. "Way sooner. By the time you finish Caroline's story—maybe even before—I'll be back."
Gwen got it.
"Okay, go."
"Mm."
He turned to leave.
Then—
"Hold up." Gwen arched a brow at his clothes. "You're going like that?"
Hawk looked down at his plain black pajamas.
"What's wrong with this?"
"Dress up a little. He is a lord of Hell."
"…Fair!"
Their eyes met.
Hawk smiled into those emeralds that could talk him around, and with a thought, the Black Phoenix Surplice, which he'd left to soak in power at the Underworld Temple, manifested behind him.
Thunk.
Clack.
Chime.
Piece by piece the Surplice locked into place. When the faceplate settled and the starfield shimmered like a projection at his back, he raised one hand—tearing open the air. Beyond the rent, a deep, lightless gate yawned toward Hell.
He glanced at Gwen. "I'm off?"
"Mm. Don't be long."
She smiled, calm as ever.
Hawk nodded. His right foot stepped forward—phoenix fire ran along the ragged edges of the rift all the way to the gate. "Mephisto. Open up."
The gates of Hell thundered wide.
Black Phoenix stepped through; the gates boomed shut.
With a soft rush,
the air went still again.
Gwen drew her gaze back, then turned to her cousin, who was standing there on the grass, brain blank. "Where were we?"
Caroline snapped out of it, the image of Hawk donning the Black Phoenix Surplice looping in her head. She gaped at Gwen. "Cousin… he just… went to—"
"Oh, Mephisto asked him out for a drink."
"That Mephisto?"
"You're a vampire; don't tell me you've never heard the name. Lord of the Hell dimension. All Earth's souls fall under his jurisdiction."
Gwen eyed her cousin. "Hawk and he fought once. Looks like they've made up."
She said it lightly, like it was small talk.
Caroline…
Was not okay.
Lord of Hell? All Earth's souls? And "fought once"?
She knew every word—string them together, and her neurons started to smoke.
At last—
All the lines converged into one thought, and she sucked a breath through her teeth.
"Yikes."
"Exactly."
Gwen smiled at her. "So don't think I'm bluffing. If you clam up, I'll have Hawk yank your soul out and toss it in Hell for a few days."
Caroline jolted, eyes going wide, shaking her head fast. "Please don't, Cousin."
"Then keep going."
"Okay."
She nodded quickly—this time with no skepticism and plenty of sincerity—and continued, laying out the story of Mystic Falls' vampires and her own turn.
She had no doubt Gwen would do exactly what she said.
Other people might not know the real Gwen.
Caroline did.
She'd thought her cousin had mellowed.
And yet…
A man who could toss off "I'm going to pop down to Hell" like it was a grocery run seemed—well—kept well in hand by Gwen.
Best to behave.
That thought in mind—
Hawk stepped into Hell and sneezed, then crossed to the same "little bar" as before. Mephisto sat in the same chair, glamoured up as a midlife disaster, and slid a glass across as Hawk sat.
"Last time this place sat between life and death," the demon said.
"And now?"
"Between death and death."
"Heh."
Hawk clinked, eyed the pour. "You didn't spike this one, did you?"
Mephisto smiled. "Did. Dare you to drink?"
They locked eyes—
And both laughed, knocking back the shots.
Glasses kissed the table.
Hawk cut to it. "You figured out what Heaven's doing; 'enemy of my enemy' occurred to you; now you want to team up?"
Mephisto chuckled, grabbed the bottle, refilled both glasses, and gave Hawk a look.
"You know how those winged birds poach someone else's farm?"
"Tied to their soul property?"
"Yes—and they're after more than the herd."
He lifted his glass and began laying out Heaven's playbook.
Put simply:
If the living planet is the grain in a pot, the ruling dimension is the pot itself.
Heaven?
They want the grain.
And they want to walk off with the pot.
All thanks to their soul trait.
"Normally, wars between dimensions are fought realm to realm," Mephisto said. "Raw depth against raw depth."
"Heaven's birds don't do 'normal.'
"They're cuckoos.
"Not an outside assault; a dirty inside job.
"They seed souls—slipping them into the target planet invisibly—letting them blend into the local death-lord's flow.
"Once the number is right—
"They spring the trap.
"They ignite and fuse those souls to shape an 'angel' stamped with the local death-marks… but loyal to them.
"A Death Angel.
"When it hatches, it counts as one of Death's own, so it's eligible to challenge the death-lord for the throne.
"Then—"
"The Death Dimension becomes theirs. The living planet becomes theirs. Every soul on that world gets pushed through their indoctrination and turned into fuel for the next war machine."
…
Three glasses in,
Mephisto had finished the tale—what would happen to Earth if Heaven took it, and how they meant to do it.
A gripping story.
Hawk's pulse didn't so much as tick.
Conquer it, then. So what.
As if Heaven's absence had spared this rock any misery.
He did, however, catch the subtext.
"Bro. I'm in deep trouble. Help."
That was why Mephisto called him for drinks: he'd gone home, felt something shift, and reached out in a hurry.
Still—
Hawk took the bottle this time, topping Mephisto off, amused. "So what did you find?"
Mephisto's mouth and eyelids twitched at that, then he sighed. "They've already planted the Death Angel's seed."
Hawk's brow lifted. "I thought you said that takes hundreds of—"
He stopped.
If Katherine Pierce's doppelgänger state came from Heaven's angelic soul-line…
Then she wasn't the first.
There were doppelgängers before Katerina.
Which meant—
Hawk eyed Mephisto's grim face and couldn't help a laugh.
The demon's brow creased.
"My bad," Hawk said quickly, hand up. "But you've been telling me all this time that Earth's souls are your private pantry. And now we learn a whole flock has been busy under your nose for, what, centuries—and you only find out because I tipped you?"
Mephisto's expression went black.
"I assumed they'd keep their bargain—leave this world."
"Please. You're a demon. You don't keep bargains. Why expect they would?"
Mephisto scowled darker.
"I didn't invite you here to roast me."
"Fair."
Hawk didn't mind apologizing; manners never hurt.
Setting aside the part where each wanted the other dead, they actually got along fine.
He clinked again, drained the glass, and watched Mephisto reach for the bottle. "So you want an alliance. You and me against the birds?"
"Yes. They've noticed you, haven't they?"
"I'm not sure yet."
Hawk smiled. "Maybe it's a misunderstanding. And why shouldn't I partner with the winged guys? Give me one reason to choose you."
Mephisto finished pouring, then held Hawk's gaze. "Because you won't choose them."
Hawk's smile didn't shift. "Reason."
"I toy with people. They toy with faith. I graze a pasture. They burn the world for fuel."
Mephisto let that hang.
They stared at each other.
After a bit, Hawk laughed, lifted his glass. "Hypothetically—say I agree. We beat Heaven. What do I get?"
Mephisto tapped his glass to Hawk's and said, smiling, "For your cosmos to manifest, you need a real anchor. The Heavenly Dimension? Perfect plot of land."
Hawk's eyes flickered.
True.
To materialize his cosmos, he needed somewhere to plant it.
Like applying for a building lot. He had the skill now—but every lot was already staked. That left two options: buy someone's land, or take it.
No one was selling.
He'd planned to wait for the events of Ragnarok—once the World-Tree Universe fell, that patch would go vacant.
No owner. Finder's keepers.
That was why he wasn't sweating his Seventh Sense yet.
Even if he hit Seventh and quickly Eighth, getting to the point where his cosmos could go physical—he still had nowhere to build.
So—
No rush.
Still, Mephisto's pitch intrigued him. "A dimension can't hold a universe."
His cosmos wouldn't be some pocket snow globe; it would be a parallel universe—not weaker than this one.
Only a universe can hold a universe.
A dimension would pop.
And if a dimension could match a universe, why had Mephisto lusted after divine authority?
He suspected a sales job. Mephisto had a history.
The demon caught the doubt and smiled. "Other dimensions? No. But I promise the Heavenly Dimension can. Do you know where Heaven comes from?"
Hawk shook his head.
"No."
"I can't say."
"What?"
"You can look. Down in the very bottom of a Heaven-soul. The deepest deep. See it—and you'll understand."
Mephisto went coy. "After you do, I guarantee you'll come back and propose the alliance yourself."
With that,
he emptied his glass, stood, and walked out of the bar.
Hawk watched him go, one brow up.
The very bottom of a Heaven-marked soul?
What was down there?
He finished his drink, rose, and left the bar.
Hum.
The air above the lawn split open.
Hawk stepped out of the rift; the Black Phoenix Surplice shattered away and flowed back to the Underworld Temple.
Gwen came to meet him, wrinkling her nose. "You've been drinking?"
"Mm."
"No funny business in the glass?"
"It's fine."
He waved it off, then noticed Caroline watching him and pivoted to Gwen. "All done?"
Gwen nodded, then looked thoughtful. "My cousin says that Katherine—the one you let go—killed her on purpose to trigger the change."
Hawk glanced at Caroline.
She met his eyes for a split second and looked away.
He chuckled, turned back to Gwen. "Katherine Pierce is pitiful, honestly."
He sketched the short version of Katherine's life:
As a human, she couldn't bear a child. Her father branded her a shame and a burden—and handed her over to the Original Niklaus as a sacrifice.
To escape that fate, she turned. But it wasn't freedom—just the beginning of a nightmare that stretched five centuries.
Gwen's brows knit; she felt it. Caroline, too—hearing the tale in full for the first time—couldn't help inserting herself into it.
In Katherine's place, she'd probably have died early in Klaus's hunt.
When he finished,
Gwen glanced at her cousin, then at Hawk. "You sound awfully sympathetic to Ms. Pierce. Not… an ex, like Caroline guessed?"
Hawk's eyes slid to Caroline.
She looked away again.
He laughed and said to Gwen, casual as anything, "You and your cousin aren't that close, are you."
Gwen arched a brow. "How so."
Hawk lifted a shoulder.
"If Caroline were my little sister—and I learned some vampire had compelled and used her for months—I'd tear that vampire in half."
…
(End of Chapter)
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