The Doppelgänger Mikaelson

Ivar raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. "So, you're telling me this book holds the kind of power every witch in this world would kill to get their hands on. But to use it, they'd have to cut off their fingers and sacrifice their firstborn son, right?"

Alyssa nodded hesitantly, her grip on the book tightening. "Pretty much. All that, and it has to be done in the presence of a witness."

Ivar tilted his head, his gaze sharp. "But now it's bonded to you," he said, motioning to the glowing symbols on the book. "And you haven't done any of that. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," Alyssa replied, her voice low but steady. She glanced down at the book, her unease written all over her face. "And that's what troubles me."

Ivar's eyes lingered on her for a moment before flicking back to the book. "Why would it break its own rules for you?"

"I don't know," Alyssa said quickly, almost defensively. "But I don't think it's a good thing." She hesitated, her fingers brushing over the symbols on the cover as they pulsed faintly. "This book doesn't just bond with people for no reason. It… it wants something."

Ivar frowned. "Wants something? It's a book, not a person."

"It's not just a book," she snapped, glaring at him. "It's alive. Or at least, it feels alive. And if it's bonded to me, it's because I'm part of whatever it's planning."

The air in the cave grew heavier, the tension between them palpable. Ivar's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, towering over her. "Then I suggest you figure out what that is before it does something you can't undo."

Ivar sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, this has been… enlightening," he said dryly, glancing back at Alyssa and the book. "But I've done what I came here to do, and honestly, I'm leaving disappointed."

Alyssa frowned, confused. "Disappointed?"

"Yeah," Ivar said, turning toward the cave's entrance. "I thought there'd be something here worth my time—some secret, treasure, or power. Instead, all I got was a weird book that bonds itself to people and demands sacrifices I'm not willing to make."

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Even if the Vade Maecum Infernal is as powerful as you say, I'm not about to cut off my fingers or sacrifice my firstborn kid—if I ever have one. That's not who I am."

Alyssa stared at him, her grip on the book loosening slightly as his words sank in.

"Besides," Ivar continued, his tone casual but firm, "one day, I'll reach a height where I won't need a cursed book to get what I want. So, this thing? It's not for me. And it can't be used against me either."

Ivar had barely taken a few steps toward the exit when Alyssa's voice stopped him.

"Wait!"

He turned halfway, raising an eyebrow. "What now?"

"Are you just going to leave me here? Alone? In a world I don't even know?" she asked, her voice a mix of frustration and desperation.

Ivar sighed and folded his arms. "What do you want, Alyssa?"

She hesitated for a moment, then looked him in the eye. "I want to come with you."

He stared at her, and for a moment, it looked like he was about to say no. But then he paused, his gaze shifting to the glowing symbols on the book in her hands.

"If you're going to follow me," he said slowly, "you'll need to do something about that book. It's too big and flashy to be lugging around everywhere."

Alyssa frowned and glanced at the book, her unease growing. "I… I don't know what to do with it."

As if on cue, the book seemed to react. It floated out of her hands, its pages flipping rapidly before shrinking and reshaping itself. Within seconds, it transformed into a simple, dark ring that slipped onto her finger.

She stared at it, wide-eyed, then looked up at Ivar. "Done."

He blinked, clearly surprised. "What can't that book do?"

"I don't know yet," Alyssa admitted, holding up her hand to inspect the ring.

Ivar shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Great. Just great." He turned fully toward the exit, waving her forward. "Come on, then. Let's get out of here before it decides to turn into something else."

Alyssa followed quickly, clutching her hand as if the ring might suddenly vanish.

In the dimly lit Salvatore boarding house, Stefan paced back and forth while Damon leaned against the bar, a glass of bourbon in hand.

"This is pointless," Damon muttered, taking a sip. "We've been at this for hours, and we still don't have a solution."

"We have to figure something out," Stefan replied, his tone sharp with frustration. "The Originals aren't going to stop coming for her."

Damon smirked darkly, setting his glass down. "Well, there's one way to stop them. Turn her."

Stefan stopped pacing and glared at him. "Seriously? That's your solution? Turn her into a vampire and hope for the best?"

"Why not?" Damon shrugged. "At least she wouldn't be a defenseless little human anymore. She'd have a fighting chance."

"And then what?" Stefan shot back, his voice rising. "We watch Mystic Falls burn to the ground because the Originals decide to wipe out everyone she cares about? Or better yet, because Elena herself can't control her bloodlust?"

Damon rolled his eyes. "Fine, then what's your brilliant plan, Saint Stefan? Because sitting around wringing our hands isn't doing anything to help her."

Before Stefan could respond, the door creaked open, and Elena stepped inside. Her face was pale but resolute as she looked between the two brothers.

"You shouldn't save me," she said quietly, but her words carried weight.

Both brothers turned to her, stunned.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Damon asked, frowning.

"I mean it," Elena said, stepping further into the room. "Don't save me. If it's going to put everyone I love, and countless innocent people in Mystic Falls, in danger… then maybe I shouldn't be saved."

Stefan's jaw tightened, and he shook his head. "Elena, don't say that. We'll figure something out."

"No, we won't," she said firmly. "You've been trying for hours, and you're still stuck. I can't just sit here and let everyone else suffer because of me. Maybe—maybe it's better if this ends with me."

Damon stared at her, his usual sarcastic facade slipping. "That's a stupid plan, Elena."

"Is it?" she challenged, her voice trembling but her resolve unwavering. "Because I'm tired of being the reason people are hurt or killed. I'm tired of watching my friends suffer for me. If dying ends this, then maybe it's the right thing to do."

Silence filled the room as her words hung in the air. For once, even Damon couldn't think of a snarky response.

"Trying to be a marytr now, are you?"

A/N

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