ALEX WOKE UP TO THE sun stabbing through her too-thin curtains like it had a personal vendetta.

She groaned, rolling onto her stomach to bury her face in the pillow. Damn it. The blanket.

This was the third time this week she'd forgotten to tack something over the window, and once again, the morning light was here to rub salt in the wound. She knew she should just hang up the blackout curtains already—she had bought them months ago—but they still sat untouched on her to-do list, buried somewhere between help Caroline with her Go-Gren Initiative and fix the grandfather clock with Ethan. A list that never got shorter, only longer. And the curtains? They weren't moving past the "good idea" stage anytime soon.

She sighed and flipped onto her back, rubbing the heel of her palm against her eyes. A dull ache settled between them, the kind of pressure that weighed everything down. Residual magic hangover, Ethan called it. The after-effects of siphoning too much, too fast. She had tried not to take much last night—just enough to practice—but even a little was enough to leave her feeling wrung out.

Five more minutes. That was the plan. Five minutes to shake off the exhaustion, to let the headache fade, to pretend she had the luxury of rest. But five turned into ten, then fifteen, until finally, with a groan, she forced herself upright.

The cool wood floor met her bare feet as she sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, fingers absently tracing the thin veins of blue at her wrist. Her gaze drifted to the plants by the window. Right. Time to water them.

It was the only part of her morning routine that ever stuck. The small jungle of green had taken over the windowsill and shelves, creeping into every available space. The pothos spilled over the edge in long, tangled vines. The succulents sat in their ceramic pots, tiny but unbothered. The herbs—rosemary, lavender, sage, juniper—stood firm, their scent thick in the still air.

They weren't just decorations or plants. They were tools.

Her mother had always kept an herb garden, had taught Alex the importance of each one, the way magic clung to them, whispering in the roots and stems if you knew how to listen. Some helped with spells. Some offered protection. Some, like juniper, were good for keeping unwanted spirits out. Alex had learned that the hard way when she was ten and accidentally pronounced "non" as "nan" in a soul-conjuring spell, letting something in that shouldn't have been there.

She pushed the temporary away and reached for the old, plastic watering can—once blue, now faded and chipped, its painted flowers barely clinging to the surface. The handle was worn smooth from years of use.

The pothos got a careful drink first, along with a half-hearted attempt at untangling the vines. The succulents needed only a few drops—too much, and they'd turn to mush. The cactus by her books got what it deserved: the absolute bare minimum. Last time, it had stabbed her. She wasn't about to let it win again.

Her herbs were last. Setting the watering can aside, Alex pressed both palms against the soil. The dirt was cool beneath her fingers, soft and alive. She exhaled, slow and steady, letting her magic stir beneath her skin, searching for connection. A hum answered her. Faint, but present.

The soil pulsed beneath her hands, slow and rhythmic. The rosemary and sage responded first, soaking in the attention like old friends. The lavender took a little longer, reluctant as always. Juniper resisted entirely, stubborn as hell. Alex glared half-heartedly at it. Fine. Be difficult.

She withdrew her hands, the hum of magic fading as quickly as it had come. A part of her ached for more, for a stronger connection, but she ignored it. Siphoning magic from plants was harmless, barely a flicker compared to what she could take from a spelled object—or a supernatural entity.

And she'd promised Ethan she wouldn't overdo it.

With a sigh, she stood, stretching her arms above her head until her joints popped. She could still hear Caroline's voice in the back of her mind: You should do yoga or something. Your stress is stressing me out.

Maybe Caroline had a point. But right now, the only thing on Alex's mind was getting to Bonnie's house. And coffee.

She set the watering can by the sink and made her way to the closet, already bracing herself for the daily battle of what to wear. Not that she cared much—comfort over fashion, always—but Mystic Falls had a way of throwing unexpected chaos her way, and she had to be at least somewhat prepared.

She yanked out the first halfway-decent outfit she saw: a pair of loose, dark jeans and a white tank. Simple, easy. Over that, she threw on her favorite black zip-up hoodie—the one that had been washed so many times it had lost the crispness of new fabric but still fit perfectly, soft and worn in.

Her battered Converse were next. The soles were scuffed, the canvas slightly frayed, and one of the laces had been hanging on by a thread for weeks. She kept meaning to replace it, but at this point, the damage gave them character.

Her hair was, as usual, a lost cause. It had that messy, slept-on look that could either pass as 'effortlessly cool' or 'I woke up five minutes ago and made bad choices.' There was no in-between. With a sigh, she twisted it into a messy bun, pulling out a few loose strands to make it look intentional.

That was good enough.

She grabbed her purse from the coat rack by the front door and snatched her keys off the table, then paused, glancing toward the living room.

Ethan would either be in his old armchair—the one that survived three moves and, at least, two near-fires—drinking coffee and flipping through the newspaper, or he'd be in the kitchen. The armchair was empty, so she made her way to the latter.

Sure enough, he was by the counter, one hand wrapped around a coffee mug, the other hovering over the pan where an omelet sizzled softly.

"Morning," he said, flashing Alex a tired but warm smile before taking a sip of coffee.

"Hey," she replied, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm headed over to Bonnie's."

Bonnie had asked for help cleaning out her grandmother's house, which, on paper, sounded like a mundane day of sorting through dusty boxes. But both girls were hopeful they'd find something interesting—an old artifact, a small grimoire, maybe even a forgotten talisman tucked away in a drawer. Bonnie's family history practically dripped with magic. There had to be something worth uncovering.

Ethan flipped the omelet in the pan, nodding. "What time are you gonna be home?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "The masquerade's tonight, and we're all getting ready at Caroline's. But I'll be home by curfew, promise."

Ethan didn't look up, but she could feel his disapproval brewing just under the surface. He hated the way town events had a way of turning into bloodbaths. And he wasn't wrong. Still, he didn't argue. He just let out a quiet sigh and took another sip of coffee.

"Alright," he said. "Just be careful."

Alex smirked. "Aren't I always?"

Ethan gave her a look over his mug, unimpressed.

Fair.

With that, she walked out the front door, stepping into the crisp morning air, already bracing herself for whatever the day had in store.

THE LATE AFTERNOON LIGHT FILTERED through the windows of Sheila Bennett's house, thick and golden, catching dust motes in its glow.

It bathed the worn furniture, the stacks of old boxes, and the half-opened cabinets in an eerie sort of nostalgia—like time had settled here, waiting for someone to shake it loose. The air was still, heavy with the scent of old books, dried herbs, and something deeper, something older. The kind of quiet that made Alex's skin itch.

She ran a finger along the cracked leather spine of a book, the gold lettering too faded to read. A quick flip through the pages showed notes scrawled in the margins, spells, ingredients, and half-written incantations. Nothing she could use. She set it back down on the nearest pile.

Across the room, Bonnie knelt beside an open cedar chest, its lid propped up as she carefully shifted through its contents—old photographs, keepsakes, and a handful of delicate trinkets. Even from where Alex stood, she could feel the lingering energy clinging to them.

"Thanks for helping," Bonnie murmured, almost reluctant to break the silence.

Alex crossed the room, crouching beside her. "Of course." A pause. Then, because they both knew the truth, she added, "I know your grandma wasn't exactly my biggest fan, but you loved her. That's enough."

Bonnie's lips twitched, but her eyes stayed sad. "She was always here," she said, fingers brushing over the edges of a folded handkerchief. "Always had the kettle on, always had some kind of advice—whether I wanted it or not." Her thumb smoothed over the fabric, as if she could coax the memories back to life. "And now it's just...stuff."

Alex didn't know what to say to that.

They fell into a quiet rhythm, sorting through the chest's contents with unspoken efficiency. Bonnie carefully pulled out trinkets and charms, while Alex divided them into piles labeled Keep, Maybe, and Definitely Not Worth the Dust It's Covered In. The task was almost meditative, their hands moving through relics of a life now gone.

Until Bonnie's hand brushed against something else.

A smaller box, wooden and intricately carved. The second she touched it, Alex felt it—like a shift in the air, a magnetic pull low in her chest that made her pulse stutter.

"Bonnie," Alex warned, already uneasy.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, were objects that practically buzzed with magic. Amulets, delicate brooches, and a polished crystal pendant. And beneath them, half-hidden, a small, wicked-looking knife.

Bonnie's breath hitched. "I had no idea she kept these."

Alex exhaled slowly, the weight of the magic pressing against her senses. "She didn't want you to know."

She reached out, stopping just before her fingers made contact. The power coming off the artifacts was old—layered, like a history of spells pressed into the metal and stone. She could take it, siphon it into herself in a heartbeat. The thought sat in the back of her mind like a temptation.

Bonnie glanced at her, something hesitant in her expression. "Do you think...you could do something with these?"

Alex swallowed. "Yeah. That's sort of my whole thing."

She reached for the amulet first, silver with a deep blue stone at its center. The moment it touched her palm, a warm pulse ran up her arm, making her inhale sharply. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was there, like a heartbeat just under the surface. She let it settle, feeling the magic stir inside her.

Bonnie watched her carefully. "It's still strange to me," she admitted. "That our magic is different."

Alex opened her eyes, rolling her shoulders as the energy settled. "It's not so different." She tilted her head, considering. "Though, admittedly, you don't have to worry about losing control and turning someone into an all-you-can-eat buffet of power."

Bonnie huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "No, I do not."

They sat for a moment in the dimming light, the house humming with silence around them. Then Bonnie reached for a candle from the chest, holding it up. "Want to light it?"

Alex turned the magic over in her veins, feeling it tangle with her own energy. The candle's wick was untouched. She focused, directing a thread of power toward it, pushing just enough—

The flame flickered to life, along with all the other candles spread out around the room.

Bonnie smiled. "Nice."

Alex lifted an eyebrow. "Better than last time, at least."

"True," Bonnie admitted, setting the candle down and reaching for something else. The knife. She turned it over in her hands, the blade catching the sunlight in the window. "Alright. What if you try levitating this?"

Alex eyed the knife, feeling the way magic coiled around it like a sleeping thing. "You really trust me with airborne weapons?"

Bonnie just gave her a look.

Alex sighed, but extended her hand, focusing. The magic she had just absorbed was still humming beneath her skin. She channeled it outward, directing it toward the knife. It lifted, hovering just an inch above the floor.

Alex grinned. Encouraged, she flicked her wrist, testing the control. The knife wobbled. Then, abruptly, it shot sideways—embedding itself in the drywall with a solid thunk.

Bonnie's eyes widened. "Well..."

Alex winced, glancing at the wall. "At least it wasn't your face?"

Bonnie gave her a deeply unimpressed look before standing and pulling out her phone after it buzzed. A second later, Alex's went off in her pocket.

Both of them glanced at the message.

Stefan.

Come over. Bring Emily's grimoire.

Alex's stomach tightened. "That's not ominous at all."

Bonnie was already moving, her hands suddenly unsteady as she reached for her bag. "No. Definitely not."

ALEX FOLLOWED CLOSELY BEHIND BONNIE as they stepped up to the front door, the weight of Emily's grimoire tucked tightly under Bonnie's arm. Bonnie's grip on it was tense, her expression unreadable, but Alex knew her well enough to sense the nerves beneath it.

Before either of them could knock, the door swung open.

Caroline stood there, radiating her usual effortless brightness, though there was something tight in her posture, a flicker of tension behind her eyes.

"Care!" Alex blurted, breaking into a grin before pulling her into a hug. "Missed you, you baby vamp."

Caroline let out a surprised laugh but squeezed her back just as tightly. "Missed you too, you witchy menace." She pulled back, giving Alex's arms a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, everyone's already here."

Alex stepped inside, but the warmth of the reunion faded the second she crossed the threshold.

The air in the Salvatore house was thick with something charged, like the electric weight before a thunderstorm. It clung to her skin, humming in her bones, setting every sense on edge. Across the room, Stefan was already moving toward them, his expression tight, controlled. Damon and Alaric stood nearby, heads bent over the long wooden table in what looked like a very serious conversation.

Alex's gaze flicked over the table. Weapons. Crossbows, stakes, vervain darts. This wasn't a prep for a minor problem. This was a war room.

Bonnie adjusted her grip on the grimoire and looked at Stefan. "I got your message. I brought the grimoire."

Stefan exhaled, nodding once. "Good. We're going to need it."

Alex arched a brow, arms folding as she took in the sheer arsenal laid out before her. "Okay. What are we prepping for, exactly?

Before Stefan could answer, Jeremy strolled over, unceremoniously dumping another handful of stakes onto the pile like he was refilling a snack bowl.

"We're gonna kill Katherine," he said flatly.

Alex turned her head toward Stefan, waiting for elaboration.

"I can explain," he said immediately.

Bonnie's expression hardened. "Please."

Stefan let out a slow breath, his gaze shifting from Bonnie to Alex. Then, in a tone that was far too casual for what he was saying, he repeated, "We're gonna kill Katherine."

Alex let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "That's not an explanation. That's just repeating what Jeremy said, but slower."

Damon snorted from across the room, smirking at Stefan's expense.

Stefan shot them both an exasperated look. "I'll explain in detail once we're ready. Right now, the plan is—"

"—to kill Katherine," Alex finished, raising her eyebrows. "Yeah, we've covered that part."

As Alaric showed Damon how to use some of the devices he had—most were used with compressed air and took a while to get used to—Caroline sidled up beside Alex, lowering her voice. "This feels very post-apocalyptic survivalist cult to me."

Alex smirked. "I was thinking Hunger Games, but yeah. Same energy."

Bonnie's grip on the grimoire tightened. "So this is it. We're really doing this."

Damon sighed, folding his arms. "Yes, Bonnie. Unless you have a brilliant alternative plan for dealing with a five-hundred-year-old control freak who collects people like trophies."

Alex exhaled sharply, glancing at the table. "Just to be clear, this isn't one of those 'one of us distracts her while everyone else does the real work' situations, right? Because if so, not it."

Damon's smirk widened. "I like her," he told Stefan, jerking a thumb in Alex's direction.

Stefan ignored him. "No one's a distraction. We all have a role to play." His eyes shifted between them, heavy with expectation. "We need to hit Katherine hard and fast—no room for error. That's why I called you both here. Bonnie, we're going to need some spells from that grimoire." His gaze landed on Alex. "And you...well, you're our wildcard. The siphoning could come in handy if things go sideways."

Alex tilted her head, considering. Wildcard. She didn't know how to feel about that. "Yeah, just another Tuesday."

Stefan's mouth quirked, but his expression stayed serious. "Welcome to Mystic Falls."

THE SALVATORE LIVING ROOM, USUALLY a picture of dark wood and old-world elegance, looked more like an armory tonight. The gleam of polished mahogany was marred by the haphazard scatter of crossbows, wooden stakes, and vervain-laced darts across the coffee table.

Alex stood close to Bonnie, arms crossed tightly over her chest, feeling the weight of what they were about to settle heavily on her shoulders. She had expected nerves, maybe even a last-minute surge of doubt, but instead, there was a sense of inevitability pressing down on her, sinking into her bones.

Alaric's voice cut through the quiet hum of preparation, steady but edged with unease. "Are you sure you don't want me there tonight?" His arms were crossed, his wary gaze flicking to Stefan, though his concern was obvious. He wanted to be in the fight, but he also wanted to keep Elena safe.

Stefan shook his head firmly. "No, I need you to stay with Elena. I don't want her to know about any of this."

Alex exchanged a look with Alaric, the furrow in her brow deepening. "Actually, do me a favor—invite Ethan over, too. Last thing I want is him anywhere near this...midnight murder club we've got going on." She always kept Ethan updated on everything that went on in this town, and she knew he could take care of himself, but it would help if he weren't alone. Obviously, he didn't want her involved either, but she had convinced him that she was protected, and she knew how to use her magic. And now, he learned, that it would do no use trying to convince her to stay away.

Alaric gave her a knowing look, exhaling softly before nodding. "I'll make sure they're both under lock and key." His lips curled into a small, understanding smile.

"Thanks."

Alex felt a flicker of relief. Her uncle was a lot of things—overprotective, stubborn, and constantly worried about her getting involved in this supernatural mess—but he'd always been there for her. Through a lot. She wasn't about to let him get dragged into Katherine's mess. The less he knew about tonight's insanity, the