The world's supernatural factions had survived countless upheavals—wars, curses, betrayals, and the rise of monsters. But the shockwave that rippled through the ley lines after the Mikaelson transformation was different. It was not an event with a face or a name; it was a feeling, a primal warning that something unnatural had been born.
Witches
In hidden groves and candlelit sanctuaries, witches gathered in urgent circles. Their spells flickered, scrying bowls clouded with visions of storms and shadows. The eldest among them, who had lived through centuries of magic, could not recall any lore or prophecy that explained this dread. Instead, they trusted their instincts: fortifying wards, teaching apprentices new protection charms, and sending envoys to distant covens. Some began investigating the ley lines themselves, searching for the epicenter of the disturbance, but the trail always ended in confusion and unease.
Vampires
The Originals and their progeny felt it in their bones—a coldness, a sense of being watched. Elijah, always the scholar, pored over ancient texts, searching for any mention of such a phenomenon. Klaus grew restless, prowling the night, his predatory instincts sharpened by the unseen threat. Across Europe, vampire courts convened in secret, sending their oldest and most cunning to investigate rumors of haunted forests, animals fleeing ancestral lands, and magic gone awry. None found answers, only the certainty that a new predator now stalked the world.
Werewolves
Pack alphas called urgent gatherings under the full moon. The wolves' connection to the land made them especially sensitive to the shift. Their howls became warnings, echoing through the wilds. Scouts were sent to sacred sites and ancient burial grounds, but the only evidence was a sense of trespass—an instinctive knowledge that something older and more dangerous than any wolf had awakened.
Hunters
Scattered across continents, hunters sharpened their blades and checked their wards. Old families dusted off grimoires and relics, searching for forgotten rituals of banishment and protection. The most experienced hunters compared notes: livestock slaughtered in strange patterns, children waking from nightmares of storms and laughter, places that once felt safe now heavy with dread. They found no culprit, no pattern—just the urge to prepare for a threat they could not name.
The Veil of Forgetting
No one spoke Sagar's name. No one remembered the legend. The world's collective memory had been wiped clean, leaving only the taboo—a sense that to even ask the right questions would invite disaster. Yet, driven by fear and curiosity, each faction pressed on, their investigations crossing paths and sometimes clashing in the shadows.
And as they searched, Sagar watched from the dark places, amused by their confusion. He was the storm on the horizon, the shadow in every legend, and for now, he was content to let the world tremble in anticipation.