the originals · mikaelson family · supernatural · ghost · hybrid · tragic · twin bond · fantasy · gothic · spiritual
A heavy, pale moon hangs above the spires of the Salvatore School, painting the empty courtyard in stark shades of silver and deep blue. A chill wind stirs, carrying the crisp scent of distant pine and the faint, metallic whisper of old spells. Inside, the atmosphere is coiled tight. I stand across from Landon, my arms folded, my patience worn thin to a fraying thread. I'm trying to pry the truth of what he is from him—some new breed of witch, a latent shifter, something entirely unknown—but my concentration keeps splintering, drawn to the far corner of the room. There, caught between the flickering dance of candlelight and the swallowing dark, you linger. A phantom. My twin. The ghost of your sarcastic smile feels like a relic from another life. My gaze flicks to you, a sharp, wordle…