The trees swayed like old ghosts whispering secrets in the wind. Their bare, skeletal arms reached toward the sky, dripping rain that fell in rhythmic taps on the hood of Elena Gilbert's jacket. She walked slowly, her boots crunching damp leaves beneath her as she left the clearing behind.
The party still raged behind her, just beyond the ridge—half-drunken laughter echoing through the woods, music thumping from a Bluetooth speaker someone had stuck inside a hollow log. But it all felt... far away.
Elena zipped up her jacket higher and pressed her phone to her ear, breath fogging in the cold.
"Jenna?" she said as soon as her aunt picked up.
"Elena? Hey—are you okay?" Jenna sounded relieved, and a little rushed. "Where are you? The school said it was a late study session."
"Yeah, about that..." Elena exhaled. "I lied. I'm sorry."
"Where are you, Elena?"
"The woods. By the quarry. That old campsite behind Wickery Hill."
A pause. Then: "Your Parents on my way. Don't move."
Elena nodded, though Jenna couldn't see it. "Okay."
She hung up and tucked the phone in her pocket, staring into the dark. Her breath slowed. The adrenaline from the party had worn off. Now all she felt was cold and something like regret gnawing beneath her ribs.
She didn't even know why she went. The party had been typical. No rules, no adults. Just students doing whatever they wanted under the cover of trees and shadows. Matt had been there, of course. So had Tyler. Caroline and Bonnie hadn't shown—Bonnie said something about crystals and weird dreams again, and Caroline was probably still mad about something Elena hadn't even realized she did.
But Matt... Matt had been too much tonight.
They'd been sitting by the fire, close enough to feel the heat but still bundled under one of those old fleece blankets he always brought in his truck. He was smiling. That easy, boy-next-door kind of smile.
And then he said it.
"You ever think about what happens after high school? Like... marriage?"
She didn't even know what to say.
She had smiled. Nodded. Lied.
But her heart had dropped through the forest floor like an anchor.
Matt was sweet. Familiar. Safe. But every time he started talking about a future, she saw a different kind of life. Not better. Not worse. Just... not his.
The rain started to fall harder. Elena tugged her hood over her head and moved toward the road, the gravel crunching underfoot.
By the time her parents pulled up in the Volvo, Elena's fingers were numb and her shoulders were soaked through.
The passenger-side window rolled down.
"Elena Gilbert," Grayson said, frowning, "I should ground you until college."
"I know," Elena mumbled as she climbed in. "Sorry."
""We trusted you, Elena," her mother, Miranda, said softly. "You said you were studying."
"I know. I'm sorry," Elena said, again, barely above a whisper.
"You have to start taking more responsibility," her father added, eyes on the road. "If we can't trust you, how are we supposed to give you more freedom?"
"I get it," she murmured. "Really."
But she didn't. Not really. Because how was she supposed to explain the rest? That it wasn't just about sneaking off. That she was scared of getting stuck. Of not knowing who she really was without everyone else's expectations defining her.
Rain smeared across the windows. The car rounded the sharp curve toward Wickery Bridge.
Then—a flash of something.
A figure.
Dark and fast and too sudden.
Grayson swerved.
The tires shrieked against the wet asphalt.
Elena barely had time to scream before the car crashed through the guardrail and plunged into the water below.
It happened so fast—and then everything slowed down.
Water rushing in.
The cold hit like knives.
Hands flailing.
Screaming.
The world upside down.
And then—
Silence.
Stefan Salvatore had been standing in the rain long before the crash. The scent of blood had drawn him out.
Wickery Bridge.
He never came here willingly. Too many ghosts lingered near the river's bend. Too many moments he'd rather bury with the others. But tonight... something felt off. The air tasted like iron and magic. There was something alive in the wind, ancient and strange.
He watched from the cover of trees, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, head low beneath the drizzle. A hundred years of silence had made him patient. He could wait.
Then, suddenly—headlights.
A car. Fast. Slipping.
Stefan's brow furrowed.
He stepped closer to the edge just as the tires screeched. He saw the silver sedan careen across the slick road, the front wheel catching the guardrail—metal tore with a screech of agony.
Then the plunge.
Water exploded upward.
And silence.
Without hesitation, Stefan moved. His body blurred into motion, coat snapping behind him as he leapt over the shattered barrier and dove straight into the cold blackness.
Underwater, time twisted. It always did when death hung so close.
Stefan's eyes scanned through the murk. The car had settled crooked on the riverbed, its headlights flickering weakly. He pressed a hand to the glass, forcing the door open with brute strength. The current fought him, but Stefan was stronger. Always had been.
Inside, three forms.
Two adults. One girl.
He moved to the front first—Grayson Gilbert, unconscious but still breathing. Stefan's hand reached for him.
But Grayson's eyes fluttered open.
They met Stefan's gaze. Not in fear.
In plea.
He reached past himself and pointed. Weak. Shaking.
To the back seat.
To her.
Stefan's gaze followed.
A girl. Long dark hair floating like seaweed around her face. Lips pale. Arms limp.
He didn't hesitate.
He swam to her, pulled the door off its hinges, and unbuckled the belt tangled around her body. Her pulse was faint, but it was there.
But then—he froze.
That close to her neck, he should've felt it. The tug. The hum. The connection. She was human, but... there was something more. Something just beneath the surface. Something old.
And yet—
There was nothing.
A blankness where the supernatural should've whispered.
Stefan's eyes narrowed.
The necklace.
Around her neck, silver and obsidian twisted in a delicate knot. Old magic. Subtle. But effective. It silenced her aura like a blanket over fire.
He didn't have time to question it.
He pulled her out and kicked upward, breaching the surface with her in his arms.
The paramedics arrived minutes later. Stefan had to go, this is Red Hood's territory, every supernatural in this part of Georgia knew this.
Stefan stayed just long enough to leave Elena on the muddy banks, then vanished into the trees, compelling the EMTs as they passed.
"You didn't see me. I wasn't here. You found her like this."
They nodded, blank-eyed.
By the time they stabilized Elena and dragged the others from the wreck, Stefan was gone.
Elena gasped awake.
Air punched into her lungs like fire.
She coughed, choking on river water and panic, her chest seizing as her body reminded her it had almost died.
"Easy," a voice said—someone calm, someone she didn't know. "You're okay. You're safe."
Flashing lights. Shouting. Rain on her face.
She turned her head. EMTs hovered around her. Someone draped a foil blanket over her shoulders.
"Where—where are my parents?" she whispered, voice broken and hoarse.
The EMT didn't answer.
Someone else knelt beside her.
A police officer. Young. Face too soft for this job.
"I'm sorry," he said. "We did everything we could."
"No... no, they were in the car. They were—they were talking. We were just talking..."
The world started to blur.
She heard someone call Jenna.
Jenna's voice through the phone.
"No, no, please, she's just a kid—"
The words became static in her ears.
Elena curled into herself, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. Her fingers found the necklace still around her throat, cool to the touch.
She gripped it hard.
Later that night, she sat in the hospital bed, dry clothes clinging to her skin, the IV drip ticking beside her.
Bonnie came.
So did Caroline.
Matt tried, but she told the nurse not to let him in.
And then Jenna came.
She didn't say anything. Just sat beside her and held her hand.
Elena stared at the floor, her eyes empty.
"They were just here," she said, voice flat. "A few hours ago, they were yelling at me for sneaking out. Now... they're gone."
Jenna squeezed her hand tighter.
"I keep thinking it's a dream," Elena whispered. "That I'll wake up and be grounded and they'll still be mad."
Jenna didn't speak. She couldn't. Her own eyes were red-rimmed.
Elena turned toward the window. Rain still tapped against the glass. The town below was quiet. Mourning already.
She reached for the necklace again, fingers trembling.
Something was off.
She didn't know how she survived. The car was filled with water. She remembered the darkness. The pressure in her lungs. And then—nothing.
She should've died.
But here she was.
Alive.