1985

To say that Ana was in a bit of a bad situation would be understating it.

She'd made her first kill on her seventeenth birthday, waited for the self-hatred to kick in...but it never had.

Her entire life, she'd been told to be peaceful, that murder and offensive magic would ruin her. Still, when her human grandfather had been used as a passenger host, she'd killed the Traveller he'd brought into their home, and she'd enjoyed it, as awful as that was to say.

The only regret came when the passenger had used her grandfather to kill her grandmother in retaliation.

Ana didn't hate herself for taking a life; she hated herself for the consequence of it.

Maybe that was what the elders had always been yabbering on about – 'The Ripple Effect.'

Ana called BS on that too, though.

Knowing that after years of pain, after the loss of her parents, she'd finally fought back?

Yes, she hated losing her grandmother, but she loved that she'd taken one of them down too.

In reality, the biggest problem she was now dealing with wasn't guilt, it was the fact she'd been marked.

The Travellers had some ancient branding instrument she'd managed to get caught on while escaping, meaning they had a way to track her if she wasn't careful.

Ana had been running for a year, and she was pretty sure they weren't actively following her anymore, but not actively pursuing her didn't mean she could get sloppy. She'd made a paste to counter it, but it wasn't enough to give her peace of mind, so she'd trained herself to make an escape plan the moment she entered a room, and she'd avoided Floare Society to try and keep herself as invisible as possible.

If there were tracking her, she didn't want to be the reason a troupe got killed.

That was the plan until the annual Essí-Aonso Celebration.

She couldn't miss it.

It had been her parent's favourite event of the year, and Ana needed to be there for them. To honour them, her grandmother and her possessed-grandfather.

She shouldn't have gone.

Everyone was smiling and laughing – playing music like everything was okay, and Ana was using all of her self-control not to yell.

It had been a year and a half since her parents had died, and just under five hundred other Floare had been killed since. The Travellers had gotten their hands on three of the stupid stones she didn't even fully understand the importance of, and five hundred people had died in the process.

According to the Floare line of communication, their population had been halved in five years, and people were finally starting to call it a war.

Ana was calling it genocide.

And, instead of fighting back or mourning or planning something, her people were partying like it was any other year of their lives.

She wasn't even surprised when the first person screamed, a dagger poking through their gut.

She was angry and ready for a fight, but she wasn't surprised.

The dagger was one of the special ones, used to banish a passenger from someone, momentarily acting as a simple weapon since it did have multiple purposes.

If Ana could get her hands on it, she could free her grandfather, and she could find a way to amplify the spell into something they could use to stop the surprise attacks that caused so many people to die at the hands of human loved ones.

She didn't know if that was possible, but she had to try.

She refused to do nothing.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," A tall and daunting woman walked with two people by her side, a circle of Travellers already chanting, appearing out of nowhere.

Ana didn't understand how they always appeared out of thin air.

The lady tossed something up; a necklace that was home to a lightly glowing yellow stone, streaks of orange like veins of magic inside it.

"I don't know the difference between Essí and Aonso by looking at you," She scanned the faces, "But if you Aonso want your little key back, I'd rat out where they're keeping the Essí one."

Ana no longer wanted to yell; she just wanted to scream.

Trying to turn them against each other was low, and it wouldn't work.

The Essí-Aonso relationship was the strongest Floare cross-troupe bond, and they'd lost most of their members in the Traveller rise to power because of their willingness to die for the other.

Ana wasn't willing.

She refused to die, and she refused to see her people turned against each other.

Instead...

She lunged forward.

"O Se Kwe Pe Se," Her hand wrapped around the woman's wrist, "O Se Kwe Pe Se."

The person started to scream as blood trickled down her face.

"O Se Kwe Pe Se."

There was a foot tap in between each clause, almost echoing around the frozen space.

"O se Kwe Pe Se."

And Ana was done, shoving the woman back and watching how her hand rushed up to stop the nose bleed.

Then the woman had the nerve to laugh, "And what does that do? Make my crops burn?"

"Curses you to your body," Ana smiled, "And gives you an agonising death – no body-jumping ways to escape."

The tension in the air doubled.

"It's a spell I picked up visiting New Orleans...they're huge fans of dark magic."

"You're lying," The woman scoffed, "None of you know magic like that."

"Tenebris Anima Vestra," Ana didn't miss a beat, turning to the guards, "Contundito Mortem."

Their screams were even louder than hers, eyes rolling back as blood poured out of the corners, staining their faces red.

"Tenebris Anima Vestra Contundito Mortem."

For every second the spell lasted, Ana's focus perfect, the blood flowed faster, until their skin burst alight, like vampires without daylight rings, and they dropped dead.

A ripple of panic spread through the crowd, Travellers backing up.

They weren't used to people fighting back – Aonso and Essí weren't supposed to fight back.

The women gripped the necklace tightly and began to chant, Ana jumping to action again, grabbing the woman and wrestling her to the floor, chanting too as she yanked at the necklace chord.

She was the Floare, it was her birth rite – her magic line, and it should be in her hand.

The stone sparked, causing both of them to flinch apart then scramble back towards it.

Ana got it first.

"You want the necklace?" She held it above her head, "Fine,"

A protective circle of fire sparked to life around her, pushing everyone back.

"My name is Ana Ruiz, and if you want it, you're going to have to kill me to get it."

Holding the power in her hand, she felt a rush of energy, eyes turning golden as her form shifted from human to pure energy, gone in a burst of light, leaving two dead bodies, a third cursed to die, and a mess in her wake.

A mess that meant the Travellers would be chasing her down, Ana ready to kill them for doing so.

2011

MJ didn't know what the branding on her hand meant, but she knew the numbers looked like co-ordinates, and when she googled them, they led her to a very general place in Egypt.

She had to assume it was some spiritual thing or a trap, but considering that she couldn't find a way to make the burning sensation stop, she would risk following it.

It had been a nine-hour flight, which had given MJ time to start making some notes to distract herself, looking through the spells engraved around Silas's story in the Greecian Cave, finding one about creating living anchors to powerful spells.

MJ was half tempted to try talking to Qetsiyah again, but spirit walking was one of the things she was still semi-struggling with during her summer training.

She had somewhat mastered opening summoning Floare witch spirits and passing through the door to visit other ancestral realms, and yet, no matter how hard she tried, it was like someone was blocking her from The Other Side.

MJ's money was on either her mother or Esther, and she hated it.

She'd tried to reach out to Kol three times.

1. The night before flying to Cadiz

2. During planning for Valencia in Cadiz

And,

3. After she'd left Prague.

She knew Kol had warned her about doing it, but she'd been getting so much stronger, and she hated the idea of people floating around on The Other Side with no one to talk to. He was probably incredibly lonely, and she missed him, but every time she tried to visit The Other Side, something would go wrong.

She needed to find a way to see into it, without having to actually visit it, if she wanted to talk to him.

...Bonnie had brought Jeremy back.

MJ had asked to see the spell, hoping she could potentially recreate it since Bonnie hadn't died, but Bonnie had deliberately not told her, citing that the spell had 'messed her up' a little.

That response had started MJ down her own little resurrection quest, seeing what magic was out there.

She knew that doing it was wrong, but she couldn't stop herself from looking.

Eventually, MJ took a break and started researching Egyptian magic. She had a list of witch-shops to visit thanks to MiMiPasare, a very passionate Egyptian warlock sending her a massive breakdown of how mythology connected to magic, covens picking a god, members learning one style of witchcraft because of it. They mastered river magic, or fire magic, like disciples.

It was so interesting, MJ barely registering that the plane had landed until the people around her started grabbing their carry-ons from overhead lockers.

1985

Ana's second moment of chaos, inducing worldwide Floare panic, had actually been incredibly well-thought-out – in her personal opinion anyway.

Well-thought-out, until she ran into one major variable that almost ruined everything.

The group of Travellers she'd stalked around the world were all linked.

She hadn't known that at the time.

If she had, she might not have snapped their leaders neck, killing around seventy people in one hit.

Ana hadn't actually wanted to turn herself into the most wanted Floare on the Traveller hitlist.

Well,

No - lie.

She'd intended to do that, just in a different way.

She didn't know the name of the guy in charge of the group she'd decided to trail, but he was a lot better than the other makeshift leaders she'd seen.

Like the other subsections of Floare, the Travellers had multiple little troupes that went around using the same title, occasionally meeting up, expect, unlike the many Aonso troupes, the Travellers were split on end goals.

There were Travellers; hunting doppelgängers, siphoners, and some were after Floare stones.

The different ways to potentially break their curse and get revenge.

All the previous leaders she'd met had been violent, but they'd all burnt out quickly.

This new guy, whoever he was, he was a lot more organised.

There'd been almost six months without an attack from the Travellers, and Ana had been able to locate the guy who called the shots, watching him like a hawk to figure out what his plan was.

He had two stones, and he'd been using them to communicate with a spirit.

That was a problem.

Ana didn't understand how afterlifes worked, but she knew that ghosts were supposed to be watching everyone, and if they genuinely were, they might know she was there and tell the guy.

She'd started to get nervous when he'd managed to steal another two Floare stones from the different groups, leaving hers and the Asey Stone as the only ones left for him to get his hands on.

The seventh stone...

Ana had tried tracking it and failed, no one having seen it since its creation, meaning it was the only well-hidden key out there.

Knowing they were on route to find the Asey stone, since no one had been able to find her, Ana had a choice to make. Find the stone first, or find a way to steal the ones the guy already had.

She came up with a third option.

She continued to follow the Travellers, waiting for the perfect moment, watching as a pipe was lodged through the stomach of the Asey guardian, him coughing up blood, surrounded by people screaming in agony on the floor from a pain infliction spell.

The leader was using four stones – he was practically a god, meaning Ana needed to cut his power supply, the only person even close to his level thanks to her own necklace.

She started chanting while she was still cloaked.

"Dinti Tu Sedo Ruina Ra Damic Box Maluc."

Over her months on the run, she'd written a spell based on five pre-existing ones, four parts to work through if she wanted to win – and she was going to win.

The first step had been her personal preparation; two holes carved into both of her wrists, blood from the spots collected into a glass and used to drawn runes across her body.

"Lim Ala Dar Ala Loke Gae La."

She could feel the blood burning, branding her skin for an unseeable about of time as an earthquake began to shake the area, bringing the fight she'd interrupted to a spot, her cloaking spell vanishing.

"Sacré Sang Lien Vivant."

Ana's eyes rolled back in her head, body possessed by power, the stone she'd stolen melting into the palm of her hand until there was nothing left to prove it had ever existed, her entire body beginning to glow.

The four stones being used against the Asey spun towards her like metal pieces clinging to the magnet, hitting her skin.

"Lim Ala Dar Ala Loke Gae La. Sacré Sang Lien Vivant."

Each point of contact had the once beautiful jewels melting, thick and oil like across her skin, sinking into her pores, binding their magic to her essences and leaving her somewhat painted. Oranges, greens, and blues merged together in massive dripping splatters around her momentarily silhouetted form.

The fifth one, round the impaled guardian's neck, was the last one to fling towards her.

"In A Pran Khos Suptia."

Ana could just hear screaming.

Everyone could just hear screaming.

Winds had appeared out of nothingness, whipping through the previously abandoned land the Floare had taken a momentary residence in, so strong that no one could move against it. Everyone just forced to watch as one person became the sole anchor to six-sevenths of the Floare Power.

"Dinti Tu Sedo Ruina Ra Damic Box Maluc Lim Ala Dar Ala Loke Gae La."

In Ana's mind, the choice was a very calculated one.

If she was the host, the Floare would have to protect her so she didn't cut off the magic, and the Travellers would have to focus on her to break their curse.

Instead of six people being hunted at one time, all of their witch troupes at risk, there'd only be her.

"Sacré Sang Lien Vivant In A Pran Khos Suptia."

The spell finished in a bang, a wave clapping out as Ana's eyes returned to normal, turning the witches nearest to her to piles of dust.

That was the first unexpected consequence.

It had been four Travellers, so Ana didn't really care, but it did make her realise that she hadn't quite understood how uncontrollable the power might be when she'd made her plan.

The guy who'd had an almost perfect plan to break the Travellers Curse lunged at her, knife in his hand.

If he could kill her, the power would die too, meaning they'd only need to find the seventh stone and their curse would fade away.

With a simple blink, his neck snapped, head rolling off his body.

Ana breathed out in relief that she could control it until the sound echoed from every Traveller in the open Asey encampment.

They all dropped dead, necks snapped.

She began to panic, "What – "

Her plan had been to send a simple message; take out the guy on top and become the sole target, but now, seventy people were dead, minimum, and who knew however many were in other locations but connected to the group.

As her breathing picked up, she rushed to the Asey guardian, pulling the pipe out of her stomach and starting a healing spell.

People were muttering, screaming, calling out for her to reverse it, but she didn't care.

Ana wasn't going to reverse it – she didn't know how to, and after committing mass murder, she needed to heal someone. The spell she'd picked, meant to stop bleeding, had her hands glowing gold, a ripple spreading through the previously injured woman's skin until she looked a little too healthy.

The guardian pushed up carefully, "You need to fix that."

Her eyes were fixed on Ana's still glowing hands

"Now."

"And I will."

"You killed all of them."

"You would've done the same."

Ana knew that sentence was true.

All Floare were pacifists, except the Asey.

They were sacrificial magic specialists, which was probably why the Travellers had waited so long to go after them, knowing that the fight wouldn't go as easy as the others had.

"Not like that," The woman's eyes were blazing with anger, "Not with that power."

"You're alive," Ana shoved to her feet, "You could be grateful."

The guardian just followed her up, looking over the bodies.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, "They'd all drunk the blood of doppelgängers."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we made a mistake."

A phrase that added fuel to Ana's panicking fire.

"They only need the doppelgängers to die if they want to wipe out ancestral magic. They can still use their blood to gain power."

That was when Ana's vision started to go fuzzy.

"Child!"

She was caught by the guardian before she could topple to the floor, "I'm fine!"

"You need to get rid of that magic," The woman argued, "Now."

"No – no – " Ana's incoming migraine was more painful than anything she'd ever experienced, "I need – I just need – "

A long breath in.

She could handle it.

"I need to run."

"Run?" The old guardian stared at her like she was crazy, "At this rate, you're going to get yourself killed."

"I will survive until I'm ready to die."

For Ana's entire life, she had memories of almost dying young because of Travellers, and she wasn't about to stop beating the odds until she'd made sure that no more Floare had to grow up the same way.

2011

The branded co-ordinates started to glow while MJ was walking through the streets, which was incredibly inconvenient since she'd been buying a book, the store clerk eyeing her up, forcing her to wipe his memories.

The glow dimmed as she got closer to where it wanted her to go, which felt backwards.

MJ expected it to get brighter, but then she realised that whoever was responsible was trying to be clever. If it got brighter closer to the source, MJ might go away, try to avoid the summoning, but if the only way to get rid of it was to follow, she'd have to show her face sooner rather than later.

It guided her away from busy streets, to places that made the air feel static, where brick arched balconies of second-floor apartments had lines of clothes mixed with drying herbs hung across the tops. The graffiti down the alleyways turned from rushed and quick lines of colour to hieroglyphs representing spells.

MJ loved that images created spells. She loved runes and magic circles for their visual aspect, and she was so ready to add another type to her growing collection of styles.

That was, she was hoping she'd get to do that.

The tunnel she'd been led to made her nervous.

The one in Greece had been easy.

She'd had a vague idea about what she'd been getting herself into since it had been on the list of places she'd needed to go to, and it had been a pretty easy journey.

This witch base wasn't.

MJ had stared down Klaus Mikaelson, a person who could literally rip her head off. She couldn't let herself get scared off by a dark tunnel.

The other significant difference between the Egyptian tunnel and the Greece one?

The new one was cramped, and small spaces weren't ideal given MJ's history, claustrophobia sinking in as she pressed the back of her hand into the damp wall, desperate for proof that it wasn't shrinking around her as she forced herself to step inside.

Every time she forgot she was claustrophobic, she somehow ended up somewhere squished and terrified.

Crouching down hurt MJ's knees, but it was the only way to move through the passage, uneven rock walls curving up to the height of her shoulders while the semi-smooth floor was covered in dust, ready to fly up and into her face each time her foot made contact with it.

As unnerving as the slimy walls were, MJ opted to find comfort in the feeling.

Water, dampness, was a sign of life.

She could feel it, she could feel the thumping of her heart in her chest, and she could keep moving.

MJ had to focus on that.

Whenever she'd been trapped, she hadn't been able to move, but now, she wasn't trapped in a small space. She was walking. Slowly, but surely. She would be okay, as long as she just kept walking, and breathing, and holding on to the wall.

She would be okay.

Inhale. Exhale.

After what felt like hours, the path began to get a little bit too steep to walk down, worn out rock turning closer to mud. Thankfully, this was also where the ceiling started to get taller, giving MJ a chance to stretch and click her back.

Upright.

Standing straight.

Space. 

MJ could stand up straight, because she wasn't in a closest, or buried in a New York park. She was just in an Egyptian tunnel.

It was like a house had been moulded inside out over her head, the white stone rectangles starting to appear clearly bricks.

MJ began to notice the buzzing at that point too.

The sound of power.

She closed her eyes, searching for the source, and tuning into it.

Then she snapped her fingers.

Wires were wound like snakes on the ceiling, thin and attempting to outline the corridor in a harsh white glow. MJ wished she'd realised they'd been there sooner. She wouldn't have been half as worried about accidentally stepping on a nest of insects that she didn't want to piss off if she'd been able to see.

She hadn't been able to use her light runes since she'd been so focused on keeping her body steady, hands pressed into the walls rather than guiding the way.

Looking down the path, MJ swallowed hard.

The walls were getting closer, and there was a black void waiting for MJ at the end of the descent. In the centre of it, there was a tiny spec of light – it was leading to a different tunnel, the entrance marked by two spikes, symbols engraved all over them.

After a second, MJ realising that they were meant to be obelisks stuck into the wall.

Inspecting them in the light highlighted the tiny pharaohs engraved on top of them.

When MJ finally forced herself down the path, stepping into the darkness, her eyes went wide.

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to react to seeing four mummied bodies pinned up to the walls, wrapped up like they were patients in an insane asylum, faces out in the open – blackened and stiff skin tricking her into thinking they were made out of wood.

Then the eyes opened.

She almost screamed.

For a hot minute, MJ genuinely thought they were desiccated vampires who'd been without blood for so long they looked like skeletons, but she also knew better.

Vampires turned to stone.

She also knew that vampires wouldn't be able to summon her to them with magic.

She would've seen projections of the people the way she'd seen the daggered Originals.

All four sets of eyes were staring at her as she took a step forward.

Then another.

The eyes followed her.

The mummies were alive.

MJ was ready to throw up, a scream creeping up her throat the longer she stared at the bony and shrivelled fingers on each of their hands, spikes under their armpits holding them up like puppets, perched on a slight step at the bottom of the wall so their feet weren't just dangling loosely.

She'd officially seen everything.

MJ could smell them too; herbal must with a hint of warm but bitter gunpowder in the air that she recognised from the Mystic Falls weapon stash.

Gunpowder ready to go off.

She couldn't force herself to move.

They were too close to her.

She was standing in a damp tunnel, a tall ceiling, yet slim passageway, surrounded by four very alive mummified bodies, all daring her to move.

Her shoulders would have to brush past them to get to the next room.

She was okay with getting cobwebs caught in her hair; she wasn't okay with looking at cobwebs connecting the yellow stained and fraying wraps holding them in place, barely enough room for her to breathe, let alone move.

If her shoulder touched them, it meant there deteriorated fingers could grab her...

MJ's hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palm to try and stop her from hyperventilating.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

A bone snapped.

One of the heads was moving, inching to the left, sharply to the right, then gasping upwards for life, leaning forward to fall off the ledges that helped keep them on the spikes.

It hunched forward, face pinned on her, eyes purple and bloodshot, features still frozen like a de-skinned skull.

Slowly, the stiff appearance cracked like a face mask, and the person smiled.

"Mira Jung Ruiz."

She inhaled sharply, forcing her hands to stop shaking as a spider crawled across their cheek, having been nuzzled in their nose prior to the 'creatures' rebirth.

1987

No matter what Ana did, she couldn't seem to die.

It was an awful thought for an eighteen-year-old to have, to be trying to kill herself, but she was running out of options.

She'd been running for just over a year, and she was going insane.

Her life was hell, and she needed to get out of it - she'd gotten herself into it, she could get herself out.

It sounded so simple.

It wasn't.

Ana had been brought up in a situation that made her feel powerless, only reclaiming strength by taking control of her ability to die, surviving the odds because she was willing to make real choices.

For eighteen years, death had been the one thing she'd been able to control, her choices keeping her alive.

But, by becoming the host to the Floare power, she'd lost the ability to choose.

No matter what Ana tried, she couldn't die.

She just kept healing.

And, no matter what she tried, she couldn't control the magic either.

Every shadow was screaming at her, every spirit that could communicate with the mortal plane was trying to, desperate to be heard by the one person who had the ability too, and she couldn't live with it a moment longer.

...Ana knew they were trying to be helpful.

The whisperers were usually filled with guidance, witches from the 14th Century giving her advice on how to recreate the stones she'd destroyed so she could free herself from the self-inflicted curse, but they were so loud.

Everything was one horrendous noise, tears brimming in her eyes whenever she tried to sleep.

She'd thought death would've been a solution, but every attempt?

She just kept waking up, fully recovered.

The universe had taken her parents; they'd died in a random attack, and Ana had never gotten the chance to say goodbye. They'd left no instructions for her to hear, no guidance as to who they wanted her to be – they were just gone.

Then her grandmother had died because of her, and all Ana wanted to do was be with them again.

But the universe, after taking so many other people, refused to let her go.

The longer Ana ran, the more people she met, the more she realised that death didn't care who you were or what you'd done, it just enjoyed stealing souls, innocent and guilty alike, deeming her a survivor.

She didn't want to be a survivor.

She didn't want to be Ana Ruiz.

'Ana Ruiz.'

There wasn't a Floare alive who didn't know her name, and the pressure of that knowledge was crushing her.

She was only eighteen!

She wasn't some enigma or great myth. She was barely an adult, running for her life, playing a dangerous and worldwide game of hide-and-seek.

She'd done one thing, and suddenly she was a symbol of something.

Okay,

maybe Ana had done more than one thing.

She'd killed an entire section of the Traveller community – unintentionally, but whatever.

She'd killed four people before that.

And she'd enjoyed it.

Her violence showed people that actions had consequences, and she enjoyed having the power to do that.

She was violent - so what?

Power was violent.

It was meant to invoke fear in people.

She had to defend her choice whenever she stopped with a Floare troupe, when they'd offer her shelter, and food, and a few nights of protection. Ana appreciated it – she did! But she wished she could have a few days of safety without having to listen to opinions.

People were angry because they didn't like the idea that she could just cut off the flow of magic and become a god at any moment, something she'd only learnt about thanks to the whispers afterwards.

A few had 'seen the light' though.

Each stop involved a 'thank you' from at least one person who thought she'd done the right thing.

She could never stay with those people though.

Every time Ana stopped for more than a few nights, her paranoia would get the better of her.

She'd wake up screaming, windows and lights shattering, bed shaking beneath her, the feeling of the boot pressed into her neck from when she'd been attacked as a child all too real, even if it was nothing more than a nightmare.

The nightmares weren't always the same, plots and locations varying widely, but they'd always end with a boot pressed into her neck until she felt utterly powerless.

She'd go to the bathroom to run her wrists under tap water, and she'd be bleeding from her eyes.

'Ana Ruiz.'

A myth, a legend – a ghost.

She hadn't wanted to create a legacy; she'd just grown sick of watching people die and unintentionally turned herself into the most powerful witch on the planet.

The most powerful witch on the planet...who couldn't cast a spell without crying.

Every charm felt like it ripped her body apart, only for it heal and rip, and heal, and rip, no matter how loud she screamed for it to stop. For it to just destroy her.

She wanted the pain to stop.

She wanted her right to die back.

She wanted to be the person in control of when her heart stopped beating.

Since Ana couldn't really sleep, she'd made a habit of watching the sunrise.

She could watch as the sky turned yellow, and appreciate the quiet – the way the world seemed to pause just before the sun rose, giving her mind a sense of peace because, at that moment, she was just a girl again.

"How often do you sleep on the streets?"

Ana jumped, spinning round and blasting two people back.

Their features were elegant, sharp, and even though she had them choking against a wall, they were relaxed, purple eyes giving her pause.

People didn't have purple eyes.

She allowed them to breathe but didn't free them for the spell until she'd finished scanning them – scrappy clothes, layers that hid most of their skin, but dirty fingers, especially under the nails, unwashed faces that matched hers.

It was the look all the homeless people in the neighbourhood were forced to wear.

The major difference? Other than the unhuman eyes?

The tattoo on the left side of their necks.

The Péthane – Spirit Walkers.

"Um," Ana relaxed, "Sorry."

One stepped forward, her clothes coming alive and moving around her body like a snake till they turned lavish; a warm coat, flowing, dark coloured, making her chin feel longer.

The second was a guy, stern-faced, and as his clothes changed too, it was a little more casual, except for the knife strapped across his chest.

Ana couldn't help but think that was an incredibly inconvenient place to store a dagger, but at least he was open about the fact he was weaponised.

All Spirit Walkers had a sacred knife. It was where they drew their power from, it could clear a person of a passenger, and cut a door open to the different planes of reality.

It also worked really well to kill someone since, well, it was a knife.

Ana was sure they could stab people with it wonderfully.

"Answer the question," The woman spoke casually.

Ana looked around, "The streets?"

It was too early for the townspeople to be awake, and, even if it had been later in the day, people didn't like to ask questions about the homeless. If someone had spotted the three of them in the alley, they probably would've ignored it, even if they'd seen the knife.

It wasn't their problem.

Ana genuinely hated the lack of compassion people had most of the time – though, could she really call herself compassionate?

"When I need too," She focused on the question, "Yeah, I sleep on the streets."

"You can't keep doing that," The guy shook his head, "Out here isn't protected."

"I've never been caught on the streets," She defended.

It was true too.

She'd only been momentarily caught when she'd been with other people.

"If you're here to try and take the power from me, it won't end well."

The woman narrowed her eyes, "We heard about what you did to the last pair who found you."

Ana bit her cheek.

"You killed them."

"I didn't mean to!"

It was the magic.

"Whatever your 'colleagues' were trying to do," Ana crossed her arms, "They did it wrong."

"They were trying to heal you."

"Healing is the last of my problems."

The man chuckled, "You're complaining about the spirits keeping you alive?"

"Fastest way to get the power back to them would be to die."

He rolled his eyes, "And what would ground the power so the rest of us wouldn't lose it when you passed."

"Sacred Ground."

"Incorrect."

Ana paused.

She'd thought that plan would work because sacred ground still held remnants of the power, so, logically, it could be returned to one of them when she passed, resetting everything to how the magic was shared between Floare before the 14th Century.

"The power would die with you unless you remove it all first."

That made her healing factor make a little more sense. The magic was killing her every time she used it, but it was also keeping her alive.

"And," The woman eyed her up, "Our friend's spell should've worked."

"Well, it didn't."

Two months after she'd stolen the magic, two spirit-walkers had found her, claiming to have a way to pull the six different stores of power out of her body, reforming the stones she'd destroyed.

It had been torture.

They'd gone into her mind and forced her to relive hell after hell until the magic tore them apart, and she was still the sole source of magic for all Floare.

"All that means is that you weren't ready to give the power up."

"I assure you," Ana felt herself getting mad, "I want it gone."

The woman smiled.

"What?" She demanded.

"You need to be with a troupe."

"If I join a troupe, they'll get hurt."

"If you aren't around people, you'll go mad."

"I'm already going mad."

"Exactly," She mused, "And if you go mad, you'll lose control."

Ana had to hold back a growl, "Are you here to help, or are you just here to talk down to me?"

Both of their hands began to glow, and she started to panic, not ready to relive the Spirit Walker mind beating.

The glowing stopped, and she was left unaffected, able to watch as their eyes rolled back, black veins crawling up the pair's necks as the woman began to speak.

"The young dream big, of glory, and that dream will tear you apart if you don't find your anchor."

Ana shifted, "What?"

"All eyes are on you," The man took over, "Watching to see whether you will be great or whether you will fall. Ana Ruiz, will you fall?"

Her breathing started to pick up as their voices became layered, echoing around the open alley.

The sound of the voice flipped a switch in her head, the simple question repeated by a howling chorus of spirits, letting her know that they were watching and they wanted an answer.

It was –

No, it was a –

She couldn't think straight.

Spirits.

Ana could hear his words, but the longer the pair of them stood, giving her a clue into the future, the louder the voices in her head got.

The walkers were giving the ghosts a foothold, translucent faces starting to appear around them, purple irises as the only thing she couldn't stare through, fixed eyeballs in the sky, all on her, glowing like a demon nightlight.

All of them had voices.

Now they could be seen, they weren't asking the question, opting to yell their ideas instead, listing solutions to her problems like the world's worst backseat drivers, merging together, inaudible and utterly useless.

The floor started to crack around her feet.

It was the boot on her neck again, a feeling so clear Ana started to choke, even though she was standing up and perfectly safe, his haunting voice the only thing she could hear clearly – him laughing as he killed the elder who'd stepped forward to save her.

The person who'd died because she'd tried to fight back. The person Ana had to avenge – a spirit whose death couldn't be in vain.

"You raised the stakes," The walkers spoke in tandem, "And history will one day tell us whether it was worth it or not."

Ana would make sure it was worth it.

She'd make sure no Floare ever had to fear Travellers the way she had.

The two of them looked to the floor, eyes returning to normal.

Then they turned to liquid shadow, purple dots in the darkness floating behind a few seconds after she felt their magic fade, reminding her that she was being watched.

Then they faded away too.

Ana shivered.

She didn't stop shivering until she was on a bus to her next stop, driving far away from the town they'd been able to track her too.

2011

"Happy to see you answered our call."

The woman stood up, skin falling from her face, like a snake shedding, revealing smooth and tan skin beneath it – thick black hair cutting out of the back until she looked like a real person.

"You responded far sooner than your mother ever did - we always had to track her down, and god she was good at hiding."

The tattoo on the left side of her neck told MJ exactly who she was dealing with, "Spirit Walkers."

"Enté."

MJ's screamed as her body locked, mind completely over-powered by the strangers searching it.

She twisted her wrists, and the Walker was slammed back to their posts, the slim passage making it impossible to really run from the situation.

MJ didn't let people into her head, especially witches – not after Esther.

She'd spent an evening learning every trick in the book on how to protect herself after that.

"No need to get defensive," The woman croaked, pushing up from the wall.

"Yes, a need to get defensive," MJ crossed her arms, "You aren't allowed in."

"I need to see if you're worthy."

"...Worthy?"

All four walkers nodded, the other three beginning to peel themselves off the walls too, the wraps of linen turning to regular clothes before her eyes.

MJ didn't have the patience for witches sometimes, "Worthy of what!?"

"Taking the stone."

MJ paused her irritation.

She looked down the corridor.

It led to a chamber, and the tiny light she'd seen was a glowing white Floare stone on display – the one 'natural' source of light in the area.

MJ took a step closer, and the three other sleeper agents stepped forward too, blocking her path.

The sound of their mummified faces falling to pieces to reveal their actual appearance was deafening in the small space.

"I don't wanna take it," MJ assured them, turning from the creepiness in order to not throw up at the sight of it, "I just need it for a spell."

"To fix your one."

"My mother's one."

"Yours."

MJ glanced nervously over her shoulder.

"You claimed the power."

"Unintentionally," She hadn't known it had been leaking into her, "And I'll happily hand it back to a Floare group once I've fixed it."

The woman smiled slyly, "Or not."

MJ narrowed her eyes, "Or not?"

"If you're meant to be the keeper of the key, who are we to demand you return it?"

She really didn't trust that.

"Unless – "

"Unless you deem me unworthy?" MJ finished the thought.

She nodded.

MJ scowled. She wasn't letting them in her head. Not a chance. Spirit Walkers could rip up your consciousness to pieces in a second if they saw something they didn't like – or they could lock your soul in a different layer of reality as punishment for things they deemed as supernatural crimes.

Given her less-than-stellar track record with witches, MJ wasn't about to put herself at risk like that.

"The spirits have been whispering in our ear," The walker stretched out, "A story they've seen."

MJ tried to ignore all the dust starting to rise from the floor, thanks to them moving, "You don't need to go in my head. I'm just fixing the stone, and then I'll return it."

One of the entourage finally spoke, a hum filling the air under his words, "Are you willing to sacrifice your own life for friendship?"

Why did that phrase hit her with deja-vu?

"You are approaching a fork in the road.
A path that will lead to your ruin."

"Wait," MJ put her hands up as they all said a line, the purple colour of their eyes turning bright silver, "The spirits already gave me this prophecy!"

When she'd been searching for the sire-line, pre-losing her mum's spirit.

"Where you are static, and then you shatter,
And the Floare fall with you."

"I've already hit the crossroad, though," MJ tried to cut them off, "I – "

"Or a path that will lead you away,
That will lift you up."

She was being led away.

She'd chosen to go to New Orleans.

"Giving you even further to fall when paranoia takes over."

She'd take paranoia over being the reason something bad happened to all of the Floare.

"Out there, there is light and there is power,
But there is no clear way to tell us how you get there."

They'd were all talking at once, but at different speeds, and MJ was ready to scream to force them to shut up.

"Magic shouldn't be mountains of blood.
We cannot let our species decline because of your actions."

Silence.

MJ took that to mean she wasn't worthy, ready to bolt.

The one at the front, the one who'd been able to talk without being possessed by spirits, took a step towards her, placing a dry and itchy thumb on the centre of her forehead.

MJ instantly went to bat it off, except, the woman wasn't going into her mind.

She was reading her natural energy.

She began to laugh smugly as she back up, out of the way, perching on to the tiny ledge to let MJ pass.

"Um..." MJ didn't understand what was going on, "Okay?"

The other three followed suit, resetting themselves on the spikes that held them up.

"You called me here to tell me a prophecy I already knew?"

"We called you here because only those we summon can find us, and you needed our stone to fix yours."

MJ truly started to look at the pegs, legs, and dinginess of the ruins' undergrounds.

She asked, "What are you guys?"

"The Péthane. Spirit Walkers."

"I know that, but I mean, what are you doing here?"

"Guarding the stone."

"How long have you been here?"

"Since there's been a stone to guard, we have protected it."

Hidden as mummified bodies that hadn't seen the sun for over eighteen years.

MJ didn't envy them, "That's a long time."

"Time isn't a single progression of moment followed by moment. Not for us."

"Do you ever make sense?"

"We watch time," Her voice became softer, like it was fading away, "We watch what came first, what will come, and when we need to, we interfere."

It all felt a little to Si-Fi for MJ, "And you, you four, you never leave?"

"Why would we want to leave?"

"To see the world."

The woman smiled as she closed her eyes, "Your world is so small, Pasare."

MJ froze at the term.

"It constrains you."

She was officially ~ super confused ~

"Our bodies remain here, young, while we watch fate run its course, protecting our people."

After a moment, MJ nodded in acceptance, realising what she meant.

They learnt how to pass between realities and project to different planes of existence. They could preserve themselves as sleeper agents for eternity if they needed to, knives strapped across their chests, ready to cut anyone who might've been a threat to their version of peace and order. Most of them wouldn't even care because while their bodies slept, their minds lived a thousand lives.

It was creepy, and MJ knew they spent most of their time with ghosts, exploring their memories, but they were standing down, so she wasn't going to complain.

"You're not stopping me then?"

"We will meet in the future," The woman sounded smug again, "When the time comes to fix the real mistake."

"Care to elaborate on what that mistake is?"

"No."

God, witches were a nightmare.

"I just hope you see the truth of the Mikaelson's by then."

The true Mikaelsons?

"It's only once you accept that truth that you will be willing to accept our help."

MJ was pretty sure she knew the true Mikaelsons, in all their blood and gore and and familial glory.

The four walkers closed their eyes, skin shrivelling up before her.

MJ took another step down the corridor.

At the last second, the final one she needed to past jerked back to life, grabbing her arm tightly and opening completely hollowed out eyes, almost cueing all of the sick MJ had been swallowing to come back up.

"Beware Silas."

MJ's mind was slammed with an image of Stefan smiling at a summer barbecue while talking to Liz.

Then she was free, standing in a corridor of mummified bodies.

She really didn't like anything that had just happened to her, from a weird witch warning to the fact a skeleton had touched her, and most of all, she didn't like the implication that Silas was still a problem, followed by an image of Stefan and Liz.

The vision's background was clearly Mystic Falls, implying that Stefan was coming home, which was good, but still!

If Spirit Walkers could see all of time, why show her something so mediocre?

MJ completed her spell as quickly as she could, then got herself the hell out of there.

She was back in the central part of the city, rushing to the supernatural side of town, wanting to pick up a few witch books to continue her reading, and, while she walked, she slipped into panic mode, phoning Stefan to leave another voicemail.

"Dude, Stef, seriously, call me back."

She was checking every street before walking into it, the empty eye sockets of the walker staring at her in every shadow.

"I'm really worried, and if I was near an airport, I would literally be on a flight home right now. Call me back."

Then she called Bonnie.

Another voicemail.

"I'm really hoping you're still listening to all these messages – Bon, um, can you try and check in with Stefan? Please? Or, I don't – I just, can you tell me what exactly you did to Silas?"

Her hands were shaking.

"Like, just how permanently turned to stone is he?"

MJ didn't want to just spook Bonnie if she was having a good time with your mum.

"You know how witch feelings can get, and I just had a big one, so, you know, just send me some kind of message. Like, I really miss hearing your voice, and the summer's been so peaceful that I'm waiting for something awful to happen and just, AAAA, you know, anyway...Talk to you soon?"

The next number MJ called actually picked up.

Caroline.

It was eight in the morning back in Mystic Falls, afternoon for her, meaning Caroline was eating breakfast.

"Hey, hey!" She sounded so happy to talk to her.

"Care," MJ relaxed at the sound of her voice, "I'm a bearer of bad news."

"Okay?"

"Can I send you on a quest to find Stefan?"

"A quest to find him?"

"I'll text you the address he gave me. The one he said he'd be staying at in Portland – and if you could just swing by?"

"Like a surprise visit?"

"A check-in to see if he's actually there."

Caroline shifted, "You don't think he's there?"

"I think I just got mind wammied by some creepy witches, and now it's like all my senses are dialled to eleven and jumping to the worst conclusions."

MJ rubbed her neck, trying to get her hairs to stand down.

"I thought we already got to the worst conclusion," Caroline spoke slowly, "We discussed him being on a ripper bender..."

"Yeah, well, now I think Silas did something to him."

"What?"

"I don't know," She was freaking out, "I got a warning about Silas, then an image of Stefan – and Silas has mind control powers. What if Stefan's off doing dirty work for him, completely out of it?"

"Bonnie dealt with Silas."

"I know!" MJ was fiddling with everything she could get her hands on as she walked, "But when have my witch feelings been wrong?"

Caroline didn't respond, knowing she had a point.

"If you're not too busy, could you maybe stop by Portland, see if he's there, then tell me I'm crazy when he is?"

"Yeah," Caroline said firmly, "I'll check up on him...have you spoke to Elena about this?"

"I called her and Damon."

"Do they think he's fine?"

"I think they're trying not to think about Stefan," MJ grumbled, "Which is really inconvenient."

"Inconvenient for you, normal for them. You never want to be thinking about the ex during the start of a relationship."

Yes, maybe Caroline had a point, but did MJ have a point too?

Yes.

"If Stefan's missing, we'll deal with it. But if he's just trying to remove all things Damon and Elena and Mystic Falls from his life, we'll deal with that too."

"Okay," MJ could accept that, "Thanks, Care."

"Don't worry about it too hard, MJ. You're across an ocean. Enjoy it."

MJ managed a smile, "I have been."

She'd loved getting to see the world; she just wished she could've done it with somebody.

"Anyway, how are you?"

She let talking to Caroline momentarily distract her from the uneasy feeling in her stomach.