Rebekah Mikaelson ? [1]

Olay fair warning that those unfamiliar with TVD might find this chapter confusing.

But is the chapter important to the plot well somewhat but its a sort of sidetrack from laura and the Mc.

I want to include the world and other charachters in my story though i know this annnoys people so my bad !

But its not necessary to know TVD to understand it

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In a Secluded warehouse in New Orleans.

Rebekah Mikaelson's eyes snapped open.

Darkness surrounded her, thick and suffocating, but something was off.

A soft glow pulsed from her chest—the silver dagger still stuck in her heart.

She wasn't supposed to be awake with that atill inside her.

But her body began to twitch, slowly, painfully, like something deep inside her was waking up too.

Her hands trembled, the white, cracked skin starting to glow faintly with a strange purple light.

What is this?

Her thoughts were muddled, but the need to move, to break free, was overwhelming.

She groaned, her muscles stiff as she struggled to raise her hand.

With a grunt, she pushed against the coffin's lid.

At first, it barely gave way, but then—crack—the wood splintered under her hand.

The surge of strength was sudden, powerful.

She pushed again, harder this time, and the lid shattered, fragments flying everywhere.

Air rushed into her lungs—cold, sharp, unfamiliar.

She stumbled out of the coffin, her legs weak due to her desecrating but gaining strength with each second.

Her chest still ached, and when she looked down, the dagger was still lodged in her heart.

Gritting her teeth, she wrapped her fingers around it, the cold metal burning against her skin.

With a fierce tug, she yanked it out. The pain was sharp, making her gasp, but it quickly faded as her body began to heal.

Her skin cracked further, but the purple glow beneath it only grew brighter.

Rebekah took a shaky step forward, her senses blaring.

The room was too loud despite having no one, too bright despite having no light , too...alive.

Her fangs extended instinctively, the hunger hitting her like a punch to the gut.

She needed blood. Now.

But something else distracted her. She stared at her hands, the purple lines glowing under her skin, moving like veins of fire.

What's happening to me?

Her thoughts were scattered, trying to piece together why she was even awake.

She stepped forward, her bare feet crunching over the broken wood of her coffin.

Her eyes darted around the room, still trying to adjust to the overwhelming sensations.

Everything felt wrong. Her heart pounded, the hunger growing unbearable.

She ran a hand over her chest where the dagger had been, her breathing still uneven.

Who did this?

She didn't know what had brought her back, but one thing was clear—whoever had pulled her out of that coffin wasn't present near her.

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Rebekah stood over the lifeless body of the seventh man she had killed today, blood dripping from her lips.

Her fangs retracted as her hunger finally subsided, leaving only silence in the room.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, staring at the mess she'd made.

Bodies littered the ground, drained dry, their faces calm.

For a moment, she felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her, her primal thirst quenched.

But then, her body began to tremble, and a sudden wave of exhaustion hit her.

She staggered, her knees buckling as she grabbed the edge of a nearby table for support.

The glow that had dimmed now returned, spreading across her skin like veins of light.

"What...?" she whispered, but before she could comprehend what was happening, everything went black.

Her body didn't collapse.

Instead, it straightened unnaturally, her head snapping back as if being pulled by invisible strings.

Her eyes, once vibrant and filled with hunger, slowly drained of all color until they became glowing orbs of purple light.

This was no longer Rebekah.

This was Charys.

She blinked, her glowing eyes scanning the room with an almost frantic energy.

Her thoughts were racing, a storm of panic and frustration building in her chest.

No... no... no... this wasn't supposed to happen.

She had failed. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Mother.

The word echoed in her mind, and a chill ran down her spine.

She was supposed to report back.

She was supposed to ensure everything went according to plan.

But now... now she had messed up.

Badly.

Her fingers twitched, and she clenched her fists in frustration. "Dammit," she hissed, her voice no longer carrying Rebekah's voice, but something mechanical.

Charys had chosen Rebekah Mikaelson for a very simple reason—she was her backup plan.

In case the day ever came when she received a death order from Mother, Rebekah would be her lifeline.

It wasn't a coincidence that the Mikaelsons existed or that Rebekah was one of them.

Charys had practically "sired" their bloodline, though not in the way vampires understood siring.

Long before Esther or Dahlia had ever come into existence, Charys had planted the seeds of immortality, subtly manipulating and influencing their rituals from the shadows.

But the Mikaelsons were just a part of her grand design.

Charys had embedded the idea of immortality into many, leading those who sought power and eternity down paths they didn't fully understand.

Rituals, sacrifices, and the very magic that created the Original vampires had been orchestrated by her hand, all to achieve one thing—a body with a genome that mirrored the Celestials, without sharing their physical quality.

It was crucial that this body be a natural counter to Mother's influence.

Since it was supposed to be her plan to escape death if she ever fails.

While none of the Celestials had the power to resist Mother directly, their blood was like poison to her extensions, including Charys.

The machines created by using her bloodline were designed to perform by undoing creation itself, were inherently opposite to the Celestials, who represented pure creation.

Their blood and essence could unravel her work.

Rebekah and her siblings were her long-term project.

The Original vampires had been forged through the blood of doppelgängers, but what no one knew was that the blood of Senataurus—a Celestial Charys had slain long ago—had been laced into the ritual.

The doppelgänger line, and by extension the Mikaelsons, carried a diluted but powerful strain of Celestial blood.

It was subtle but enough to make Rebekah's body an ideal vessel for Charys in the future, should her plans go awry.

The Celestials were her mother's greatest and only weakness,not in the conventional sense but rather the sense that it was the only thing that prevented her from entering any universe without much care.

Rebekah was Charys' last hope, and it wasn't just by chance.

The girl had the purest, most stable genome configuration Charys had ever come across.

Unlike Klaus, whose very existence was a miracle—a genetic anomaly with two completely different and unplanned genomes, courtesy of the unfaithful esther —Rebekah's body was perfect for Charys' purposes.

Klaus, though immensely powerful, was untouchable.

The werewolf blood in him, while giving him strength, was also shielded by something far beyond Charys' reach.

It was protected by the essence of the first "Eternal" vessel she had attempted to create.

That failure had gone rouge and basically cut off any chance Charys had of accessing Klaus by sealing jer bloodline.

His werewolf lineage, tied to that ancient, failed creation, had sealed him from her influence.

But Rebekah? Rebekah was different. Her blood was free of those ancient barriers.

Pure, stable, and crafted from the lineages Charys had subtly manipulated for centuries.

She had waited, watched as the Mikaelsons grew in power, knowing that Rebekah would be the key if ever the time came.

Thoigh not before making her lose the ability to ise the powers without her.

In a twisted sense, Rebekah was designed for this, a perfect plan hidden beneath layers of magic, family, and blood.

Charys had made sure her genome configuration was not only suitable but the most compatible with the celestial essence, a potential that Klaus—despite his hybrid power—could never offer.

Rebekah, unknowingly, was Charys' last, perfect creation.

The one hope she had against Mother..

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