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Once again she was a slave to that horrifyingly familiar black horizon, decades passing like minutes before her shaded eyes.
Astrid was in a constant state of confusion, trapped within her own body, wondering how and why Nik had daggered her. It didn't make sense... After everything they'd been through.
The conscious part of her was filled with dread, hoping Mikael hadn't been the one to dagger her before moving his vengeance onto Nik.
Mikael only had one white oak stake and the putrid man had always held a torch of blind hatred for Klaus.
The original father wouldn't have used the white stake on them, he'd dagger them and throw their coffins to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.
Yet as she continued to actively dread what was happening in the living world, it was all over within a flip of a switch, or a slide of dagger.
It was as if someone had ripped the blindfold off, rescuing her from the depressing darkness she found ever so cold.
Although she didn't have the strength to peel her heavy eyelids open, she could feel the dark veins fading across her body, the colouring returning to her.
She heard the ringing sound of someone carelessly throwing the dagger that had led to her destruction aside as if it was nothing.
When she was finally able to pry her eyes open, she found herself squinting at the intense lighting above her.
The second thing she noticed was how hungry she was, her mouth was drier than any desert, tongue swiping across her bottom lip in an attempt to gather some sort of moisture to soothe the cracks and cuts.
"Well, well. Isn't this a reunion, huh?" An oddly familiar voice purred from beside her. An arm draping over her shoulder as the man, who was certainly not her husband, helped her into a sitting position.
Furrowing her brows together, taking note of how the décor had changed since the twenties, Astrid was surprised to find herself face to face with Damon.
He looked the same, but also different at the same time. It was rather strange.
His hair was shorter, and he was as handsome as he had been back in the twenties, yet it was his eyes and mannerism that unsettled her. The eyes that had once been filled with sorrow seemed cruel, while his entire mannerisms seemed smug and conceited.
"Damon?" Astrid questioned; voice slightly raspy as she took a moment to glance around the room.
Three other coffins were lined up beside her own, all of them with their lids open. It seemed all of the coffins were white, except her own, which was a startling red.
