In the depths of the forest, where the dense canopy cast dappled shadows upon the forest floor, Niklaus and Elijah crouched in silence, their breaths slow and steady as they focused on their quarry. The air was heavy with anticipation, the tension palpable as they prepared to loose their arrows at the unsuspecting deer before them. But amidst the tranquility of the forest, a shrill cry shattered the stillness, piercing through the air like a dagger.

"Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiik! 'Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijah!"

Niklaus's brow furrowed in frustration at the unwelcome interruption, his friend's call slicing through the serenity of their hunt.

"Ignore her; be still," Elijah murmured, his voice a low rumble as he urged Niklaus to maintain his focus on the task at hand. With a shared determination, they steadied themselves once more, and their gazes fixed unwaveringly on the deer grazing nearby.

"Deep breath. Hold... NOW!" Elijah's command sliced through the silence, breaking the tension as Niklaus released his arrow in a swift, fluid motion. Yet, despite his best efforts, the arrow veered off course, narrowly missing its mark. Though his aim had improved, it still fell short of their expectations.

"Your aim is improving," Elijah offered words of encouragement, his hand coming to rest reassuringly on Niklaus's shoulder. "Next time, you will get it."

They heard the bushes rustling and wondered if their small friend had found them until they recognized they sounded too heavy. To their horror, their father burst through the bushes glaring between Niklaus and Elijah, "You encourage him, Elijah, but he grows more pathetic every day."

Niklaus, hurt and embarrassed, stood his ground, "I am not pathetic."

"Do not talk back to me," Mikael scowled down at him. "You are not man enough to hold this weapon. If you cannot hunt, you are nothing but a burden."

It was only then that Klaus recognized his error and began backing up, "I am sorry."

Mickael grabbed Niklaus by the front of his shirt, "It is a shame we cannot feed on sad-eyed apologies. It is your one and only skill."

Mikael backhanded Niklaus across the face, sending him to the ground as Elijah stepped forward in anger, "Father, stop."

Mikael turned his glare on the elder of the two, "Stay back, or you will be next. The boy needs to be made strong."

Mikael pulled his back his leg and harshly kicked Klaus in the back while he was sprawled on the ground, and ignored his son's screams of pain. As his leg retracted to kick him once more, a force took hold of his body. Mikael's eyes widened when he discovered he could not move as the bushes rustled, and a small girl stepped out, her mesmerizing green eyes locked on him.

"You will not hurt him anymore!" The girl glared as she kneeled next to Niklaus and helped him slowly stand up again. She pushed him and Elijah behind her, even though she was the smallest of the three. "Go!" She told the brothers, and though they hesitated for a moment, their fear for their father overcame their worry for her, and they ran.

Mikael glared at the small child, and when she let her magic free him, he stumbled to catch his balance, his glare not leaving her. Unlike his sons, the child stood proud, and for a moment, Mikael respected her strength until he remembered she had embarrassed him in front of his sons. His finger pointed threateningly at the child, "You cannot save him all the time, Asta. He is weak."

Asta's glare returned at the threat, "I know you will continue to hurt him, Mikael and I cannot stop it..." She stepped forward, her magic no longer holding him in place, but knew he would never hurt her. "Niklaus may be weak, but at least he is not evil."

Mikael remained where he was, the two scowling at each other until he turned with a growl and marched back into the woods. Asta let out a sigh of relief before her head raised, and she called out, "I know you are there, Niklaus."

Niklaus slowly emerged from behind the large tree, tears staining his pale face, "Why would you do that, Asta?"

Asta shrugged, "Because you are my friend, Nik." She then grinned playfully as she held up the palm of her hand, "We said we would be there for each other forever, 'member?"

Niklaus slowly walked towards her, examining the healed scar on her palm before covering it with his own palm. The two scars matched perfectly as they met.

"Miss Ayana will be mad," Niklaus bit his lip. Asta shrugged as she tightened her grip on his hand and pulled him towards the village.

"Ayana is not my mother," She declared firmly. "Mother always said to do the right thing when you see someone doing something bad. Your father is not a nice man. Ayana will agree."

Nik could only smile at the girl, and before they entered the village, he halted her with his grip and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you, Asta."

"Family always comes first, Nik," Asta smiled into his small chest. "And you are my family too."

"Forever and Always," Niklaus smiled into her neck.

It was not the first time Asta used her magic to stand up to Mikael, and it was not the last time. Over the years, as Asta and Niklaus grew older, her magic strengthened, and it was only when the young witch was near that Niklaus was saved from his father's anger.

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"It is easy, Nik. Watch me," Asta said with a gentle smile as she delicately crushed rose petals in the dish. Nik kneeled beside her, mimicking her actions with his blueberries.

Once Asta finished crushing the petals, Nik observed with wide-eyed wonder as she produced a small vial of honey.

"Where did you get that?" he inquired, his surprise evident in his tone.

Asta rolled her eyes at his reaction. "Ayana had a little remaining after she made the village mead. I didn't steal it," she reassured him, her tone tinged with exasperation. Nik raised a skeptical eyebrow, prompting Asta to let out a heavy sigh. "I swear, Nik."

Unable to discern if she was telling the truth, Nik gestured toward the crushed petals. "How do you turn it into a liquid color?"

"The honey mixes with the dried petals," Asta explained proudly as she carefully poured a small amount of honey into the petals. With a stick in hand, she began mixing the two together. "Then you mix, and it turns into a color you can draw with."

Niklaus' eyes widened in awe as the crushed pink petals gradually brightened in hue when mixed with the honey. Once Asta finished, she handed the bowl to him, and he eagerly accepted it, placing it beside the mixed blueberries. Taking the brush he had crafted without his father's knowledge, Nik dipped it into the vibrant color before carefully applying it to a piece of bare wood he had brought along.

As he painted random lines with the pink and purple hues, Asta frowned over his shoulder. "That doesn't look pretty," she remarked bluntly.

Nik playfully pushed her back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as she stumbled onto the ground with a frustrated huff. "I'm still learning," he retorted with a grin.

Ignoring her scowl, Asta brushed off the dirt from her dress before kneeling beside him once more. She observed him with a small, affectionate smile, noting the concentration etched on his features as his tongue poked out from his mouth in focus.

However, their peaceful moment was abruptly shattered by screams echoing through the forest. Both children lifted their heads in alarm, their attention drawn to the source of the commotion. Asta rose to her feet, ready to investigate, when Niklaus firmly grasped her hand.

"Wait, Asta," he urged, holding her in place as he rose to his feet. "I'll go first."

Asta rolled her eyes at his protective gesture, a hint of amusement flickering in her expression. Despite both brothers being aware of Asta's magic, they always insisted on leading the way into unknown situations, demonstrating their characteristic overprotectiveness.

As they cautiously approached the area from which the screams emanated, they entered a clearing to behold a grim sight: a group of slain men scattered across the once serene spot. Asta, unaccustomed to witnessing death or injury, instinctively clung to the back of Niklaus' shirt when she spotted a man impaled on the largest tree, barely clinging to life.

Asta's complexion paled as she surveyed the wounded man, his mouth stained with blood. Startled by the desperation in his eyes as they met hers, she tightened her grip on Nik's shirt as the man pleaded for help.

"Help me. Please," he implored weakly.

Overwhelmed by the fear transmitted through her magic, Asta failed to notice Mikael storm past her and Nik to deliver a final, fatal blow to the dying man.

Reacting instinctively, Nik unconsciously pushed Asta back as Mikael turned his wrathful gaze upon them. However, his rage was directed solely at his son as he brandished his blood-stained sword at Nik.

"You would show mercy to an enemy?! A fiend who plotted to raid our home?" Mikael's voice dripped with fury as he advanced menacingly towards them.

Despite his rising fear in the face of his father's anger, Niklaus instinctively shielded his small friend behind him.

"Mercy... Is for the weak, Niklaus!" Mikael spat venomously. "You... Look at you, boy. You are pathetic."

Frozen in shock by the brutality of Mikael's actions, Asta finally found her voice and stepped forward, interposing herself between Niklaus and his father.

"Enough!" she cried out, her voice trembling with emotion.

In response to her defiance, Mikael was sent hurtling across the clearing, landing amidst the men he had slain. His clothing soaked in their blood, he slowly raised his head to fix a furious glare upon Asta.

Aware of the danger lurking in Mikael's gaze, Nik urgently seized Asta's outstretched hand, his bright green eyes locked onto hers with unwavering determination. Without waiting for her to question his actions, he swiftly pulled her through the forest, his steps quick and purposeful, until he was certain his father would not pursue them.

Asta's protests fell on deaf ears as Nik led them through the woods, his long strides matching her smaller ones. Exhaustion eventually overcame her, and she tugged on his hand, signaling her need to rest.

"No more, Nik," she gasped out heavily. "I cannot breathe."

Niklaus, his own breath labored with emotion, turned to her with an expression of frustration. "You will be unable to breathe when my father catches you."

Asta frowned in disbelief at his anger. "He pointed his bloody blade at you, Niklaus. We both know what that means."

Shaking his head, Nik's eyes conveyed sorrowful resignation. "I don't care. Not when you could be hurt in my stead."

Asta's bewilderment swiftly gave way to understanding as she approached her friend, her touch soft as she caressed his cheek.

"Family always comes first, Nik. Remember?" Her smile was tender as she drew him into a comforting embrace. "As long as I am there, he will never hurt you."

Asta's solemn vow remained unbroken. Whenever she was near, Mikael never inflicted harm upon Niklaus. Fortunately, their close proximity was assured by the enduring friendship between Nik's mother, Esther, and Asta's aunt, Ayana. As the years passed, their bond only grew stronger.

However, their unwavering friendship would soon be jeopardized by Mikael's relentless quest to shield his family from all threats. The once unshakable bond between Asta and Niklaus would become one of the first casualties in Mikael's pursuit of protection at any cost.

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Asta sat quietly, her slender fingers deftly tying together the flowers she had collected earlier that morning. The vibrant red roses, once a symbol of vitality and love, now bore the somber hue of white, transformed into emblems of sympathy for their grieving community.

"Are you ready, child?"

Asta turned to face Ayana, her great aunt, who stood at the doorway, her presence a pillar of strength amidst the sorrow that hung heavy in the air. Ayana had taken Asta in after the tragic loss of her family, raising her as her own and nurturing her burgeoning magical abilities with care and wisdom. Asta's grief was tempered by the love and guidance she received from her surrogate mother.

With a solemn nod, Asta rose from her seat and approached Ayana. Despite the weight of sorrow that burdened her, Asta's ethereal beauty radiated through the darkness, a testament to her resilience in the face of adversity. Ayana silently offered a comforting hand, guiding Asta towards their shared destiny with quiet resolve.

As Asta grew into womanhood, her beauty became renowned throughout the village, captivating the hearts of many suitors who sought her hand in marriage. Yet, Ayana, fiercely protective of her adopted daughter, shielded Asta from premature romantic entanglements, knowing that she was not yet ready to embark on such a journey.

The tragic loss of Henrik, Niklaus's youngest brother, cast a shadow over their village, leaving a wound that refused to heal. Henrik's untimely demise, a result of his ill-fated curiosity about the mystical creatures that prowled the forest, plunged the Mikaelson family into grief and despair. Asta clung to Niklaus in his moment of anguish, offering him solace as they grappled with the harsh realities of loss.

"Please, Ayana!" Mikael's voice pleaded desperately as he implored the witch for aid, his eyes filled with desperation and sorrow. "I implore you! You must call upon the spirits before the next full moon."

Asta's heart ached at the sight of Mikael's anguish, coupled with Esther's tearful entreaties. The weight of their grief pressed down upon her, threatening to engulf her in its suffocating embrace.

But Ayana remained resolute, her voice tinged with righteous indignation. "We will not," she declared firmly, her gaze unwavering. "It is a crime against nature."

Esther, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, reached out to Ayana, her voice trembling with emotion. "Ayana, we have already lost too much. We cannot lose anymore... The spirits can help us find a way to protect our children."

Asta felt the weight of their collective sorrow bearing down upon her, threatening to crush her spirit. The ache of loss gnawed at her heart, a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death.

Even with her eyes closed, Asta knew her Aunt would be shaking her head. No, she wouldn't choose this option. As witches, they were given their powers to provide a balance to the Earth. Using their magic for good, not for selfish reasons, and this was one. The spirits would not accept it.

When she heard another in the room, her eyes opened and locked on Rebekah's, the girl who had become a sister to her as her friendship with Nik grew. Rebekah loved being with her brothers and Asta; it allowed the two girls to have a bond much different than the one Asta had with Nik or Elijah. With a sharp shake of the head, she motioned for Rebekah to leave; this was not a conversation for her to listen in on. Luckily, the young girl took heed and left her hiding place.

"Everything could be heightened," Mikael continued, his voice tinged with desperation. "Our family could live forever..."

But Ayana remained steadfast in her refusal, her voice a harbinger of warning. "At what cost? This magic breeds consequence," she cautioned, her eyes flashing with righteous indignation. "This is the makings of a plague, Esther. The spirits will turn on you."

Esther's tearful gaze sought Asta's, beseeching her to intercede on their behalf. "Please, Ayana," she implored, her voice trembling with emotion.

With a heavy heart, Ayana gently led Asta away from the Mikaelson family home, her resolve unwavering. "I will have no part in it. Asta will have no part in it. The balance must remain," she declared solemnly, her voice filled with conviction.

As they returned to the sanctuary of their home, Asta turned to Ayana, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "They're not going to listen, are they?"

Ayana offered a sad smile, her wisdom a balm to Asta's troubled soul. "Grief is like the ocean, Asta," she began softly, her words carrying the weight of centuries of experience. "Sometimes, it is calm; other times, it can be overwhelming. Would you play in the waters if there were a storm?"

Asta shook her head, her expression pensive. "No," she replied quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No," Ayana echoed gently, her gaze tender. "But when your heart is full of sadness, you may take a step into that water. And even as the waves feel like heavy hits to your body, you do it just so you can feel something other than the numbness of grief."

Together, they sought solace in the quiet embrace of their home, finding comfort in each other's presence amidst the storm of sorrow that raged outside.

Days later, the ominous portent delivered by Ayana manifested itself as Asta and Tatia ventured through the dense foliage of the woods, their purpose clear: to gather berries. The dappled sunlight filtered through the verdant canopy above, casting a gentle glow upon their path as they navigated the forest's labyrinthine trails.

Tatia, ever the astute observer, broke the silence with a probing question. "You have not spoken to Niklaus?" she inquired, her voice carrying a note of curiosity tinged with concern.

Asta, her demeanor somber, shook her head in response. "No," she admitted with a heavy sigh, her thoughts consumed by the absence of her steadfast companion. "I do not think we have been apart for such a long time."

Tatia's lips curved into a mischievous smirk, her eyes alight with amusement. "Are you sure it is something other than brotherly love you have for Niklaus?" she teased, her playful tone laced with gentle mockery. "You sound worried."

Asta's response was swift, a playful shove aimed at her friend's shoulder. "Never," she retorted with a light-hearted laugh, her affection for Niklaus evident in her words. "Nik and 'Lijah are brothers I wished for as a child. I am lucky that Mikael hated me enough not to have me marry either one." Her jest elicited a smile from Tatia, who found amusement in Asta's spirited banter.

Emboldened by their camaraderie, Asta turned the tables on her friend with a teasing inquiry of her own. "And what of you and my dear, 'Lijah?" she asked, her tone playful yet tinged with genuine curiosity.

Tatia's cheeks flushed with a delicate blush, her gaze momentarily averted. "Elijah is... kind," she confessed softly, her admiration for the eldest Mikaelson brother evident in her words.

Asta's smile widened at Tatia's admission, her heart warmed by the blossoming affection between her friend and Elijah. Since Tatia's arrival in the village, the two women had forged a deep bond, their shared experiences bridging the gap between them. Tatia's wisdom, gleaned from a life marked by hardship and loss, provided Asta with invaluable guidance and companionship.

As they continued their journey through the forest, Asta's keen gaze fell upon the bandage wrapped around Tatia's hand as she reached for another cluster of berries. Concern flickered in Asta's eyes as she gently grasped Tatia's injured hand in her own, her touch tender yet probing. "What happened?" she inquired, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Tatia hesitated for a moment before offering a tentative explanation. "A request," she replied cryptically, her tone betraying a hint of uncertainty.

"A request?" Asta echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Why would you be harmed by a request?"

Tatia's response was elusive as she withdrew her hand from Asta's grasp and resumed her task of berry-picking. "It did not hurt," she offered cryptically, her words laden with unspoken implications. "She only needed a little blood."

The mention of blood sent a chill down Asta's spine, her mind racing to unravel the mystery of Tatia's cryptic words. "Blood...?" she murmured, her thoughts racing as she pieced together the puzzle before her. Suddenly, realization dawned upon her, a jolt of fear coursing through her veins as she uttered a single word. "Esther."

With a sense of urgency that bordered on panic, Asta's instincts propelled her into motion, her resolve unyielding as she abandoned the forest in a frenzied rush. "Nik!" she cried out, her voice echoing through the woods as she pounded on the door of the Mikaelson home. "Niklaus? Elijah? Bekah?"

Her desperate pleas fell upon deaf ears, the ominous silence of the house a stark contrast to the chaos raging within Asta's heart. With mounting dread, she realized the gravity of the situation, her worst fears threatening to overwhelm her.

Turning away from the Mikaelson home, Asta hurried back to her own dwelling, her steps quick and purposeful as she raced to her room. With trembling hands, she retrieved the tools she needed, a sense of grim determination settling over her as she prepared to confront the looming threat.

Seated upon her bed, Asta steeled herself for what was to come, her mind awash with a potent mixture of fear and resolve. With practiced precision, she positioned the dagger upon the scar she and Niklaus shared, her breath catching in her throat as she prepared to enact the ancient ritual that would bind them together in spirit and in purpose.

As the dagger sliced through her skin, a bead of blood welled forth, crimson against the pale expanse of her flesh. With unwavering determination, Asta allowed the blood to flow, her gaze fixed upon the amulet she had retrieved from its resting place upon her chest.

"Phasmatos Tribum, Nas Ex Veras, Sequitas Sanguinem," she intoned, her voice steady despite the tremors that shook her frame. The incantation, ancient and powerful, resonated through the air, its words infused with the weight of centuries of tradition and magic.

With each repetition of the spell, Asta felt the amulet grow warm against her skin, its ancient power responding to her call. As the final syllable left her lips, a surge of energy coursed through her, the amulet glowing with an ethereal light as the ritual reached its culmination.

With the amulet securely fastened around her neck, Asta felt the pull of its magic, an invisible thread guiding her toward her destiny. Ignoring the gnawing fear that threatened to consume her, she followed the amulet's guiding light, her steps quick and determined as she ventured into the heart of the forest, towards the unknown danger that awaited her beloved friend.

While his best friend looked for him, Niklaus sat amidst the chilling stillness of the forest, his once vibrant spirit now crushed under the weight of a monstrous revelation. Surrounding him lay the gruesome aftermath of a nightmarish transformation, the lifeless forms of several men strewn about like discarded husks, their blood staining the earth crimson.

Elijah, the embodiment of steadfastness and compassion, approached his brother with measured steps, his heart heavy with sorrow for the anguish etched upon Niklaus's face. Silently offering a fresh set of clothes, Elijah's gaze softened as he beheld the torment etched upon his brother's visage, a testament to the harrowing ordeal he had endured.

With trembling hands, Niklaus accepted the garments, his fingers tracing the fabric with a sense of detachment as he struggled to reconcile the horrors of his actions. "What am I...?" he whispered, his voice trembling with uncertainty as he sought solace in his brother's presence. "How many...?"

"Six." Niklaus covered his face with his hands in horror and disgust at himself at Elijah's soft reply. Knowing he would want to know, Elijah continued, "You slaughtered six villagers, brother. You tore them apart as though they were nothing at all."

As Elijah helped Niklaus to his feet, his brother turned to him in desperation, "Brother, what have I become?"

Elijah answered truthfully, "You seem like the wolves in the village, cursed to turn when the moon is full."

As Niklaus grappled with the enormity of his deeds, Elijah extended a reassuring hand, offering support amidst the storm of guilt and self-recrimination that threatened to consume his brother's fragile psyche. "Listen to me. Father is beside himself with rage. It seems this... affliction... can only be passed by a certain kind of conception--"

As Niklaus's tears mingled with the bloodstains upon his brother's shoulder, he sought answers amidst the tumult of his shattered reality. "And do our siblings share this affliction? Do you share this affliction?"

Elijah's response was swift and unequivocal, a beacon of reassurance in the darkness of Niklaus's uncertainty. "No. I don't."

The weight of revelation bore down upon Niklaus with crushing force, shattering the fragile illusions of his past and casting him adrift in a sea of uncertainty. "He is not my father, is he?" The words hung heavy in the air, a damning indictment of his fractured identity.

Elijah's hand upon his shoulder was a steadfast anchor amidst the storm of Niklaus's turmoil, a silent vow of unwavering support. "You listen to me. This changes nothing. For any of us. We are here for you, as we shall always be."

But even as Elijah's words offered a glimmer of hope, the specter of despair loomed large on the horizon, casting a pall over Niklaus's fragile resolve. The sound of approaching footsteps shattered the fragile peace of the clearing, heralding the arrival of Tatia, the woman who held both his heart and his soul in her delicate hands.

Tatia's horrified gaze bore witness to the devastation wrought by Niklaus's transformation, her own heartache mirrored in the depths of her soulful eyes. With a wordless cry of anguish, she fled from the clearing, leaving Niklaus to grapple with the magnitude of his own monstrous deeds. Elijah quickly followed. Nik went to pursue But amidst the chaos and despair, a beacon of hope emerged, a familiar voice calling out his name with desperate urgency. Asta, his steadfast friend and confidante, rushed to his side, her presence a balm to his battered soul.

"Nik?"

Niklaus' heart sank at the sight of Asta's horror-stricken expression. His knees buckled under the weight of his guilt, and he dropped to the forest floor, overwhelmed by the enormity of his actions.

Asta's voice cut through the turmoil, a beacon of concern in the darkness. "Nik?"

Rallying at the sound of her voice, Niklaus looked up to see Asta rushing towards him. Relief washed over him as she enveloped him in a tight embrace, her warmth a balm to his troubled soul. "Oh, Nik," she murmured, her words a whispered prayer against his skin. "Oh, Niklaus."

As she pulled away, Asta's hands instinctively went to work, trying to wipe away the evidence of his descent into savagery. Each stroke of her sleeve across his blood-stained face and chest was a silent plea for absolution. "Please tell me this is not true," she implored, her voice trembling with desperation.

Niklaus could only sit there, a statue carved from remorse, as Asta tended to him. "I'm sorry I could not tell you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We warned them, Nik," Asta lamented, tears streaming down her cheeks like raindrops on a window pane. "We told them there would be consequences; this is only one of the few." Her eyes swept over the scene of destruction surrounding them, taking in the carnage with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. "Nothing is worth... this."

"He's not my father," Niklaus declared, his voice thick with emotion.

Asta's gaze snapped to his, her eyes searching for answers in the depths of his pain. "What?"

"This..." Niklaus gestured helplessly at the devastation around them, the weight of his revelation pressing down on him like a leaden shroud. "After what they did, there began a pain. A pain that felt worse than when Fath-Mikael stabbed me through with his sword to complete the spell. A pain worse than death as my bones reformed and a new type of hunger took over my senses."

Asta's hands flew to her mouth in shock, disbelief etched into every line of her face. "No... That cannot be true."

"Look at what I have done, Asta," Niklaus pleaded, holding up his bloodstained hands as a grim testament to his sins. "Last night, I became the monster that we all feared every full moon. Like the monster that killed Henrik."

"No," Asta's denial was fierce, a roaring flame against the encroaching darkness. She seized his face in her trembling hands, her eyes blazing with determination. "No. You are not a monster. You are my Nik. My kind and gentle, Niklaus. Look at you. Doing this has broken your heart. A monster does not feel that way. Do you understand me?!"

Niklaus could only nod, tears mingling with the bloodstains on his cheeks. "Help me, Asta," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Always," Asta vowed, her forehead touching his in a silent pledge of solidarity. In that moment, there was only the two of them, bound together by a bond that transcended time and tragedy.

With renewed resolve, they rose to their feet, Asta's hand firmly clasped in Niklaus'. Together, they marched towards the Mikaelson home, their steps echoing with the weight of their shared burden.

Niklaus crouched in the dense undergrowth of the forest, his heart pounding in his chest like a trapped animal. From his concealed vantage point, he watched as Asta pounded on the door of his home with fierce determination, her voice ringing out like a clarion call in the quiet of the night.

"I know what you have done, Esther. Open this door now!"

The door creaked open slowly, revealing Esther's somber figure framed against the warm glow of the fire within. Asta wasted no time in confronting her, her eyes ablaze with righteous fury. "Is he here?" she demanded, her tone leaving no room for evasion or deceit.

Esther shook her head solemnly, her gaze flickering towards the forest where Niklaus remained hidden. "He is looking for Niklaus," she admitted, her voice heavy with sorrow.

Without waiting for further explanation, Asta barged into the house, her determination unyielding. "Then he will not find him here; it is the last place Nik would hide," she declared, her words a stark reminder of their dire situation. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a silent message to Nik, her thoughts reaching out to him like a lifeline in the darkness. 'He is not here, Nik.'

Responding to Asta's telepathic signal, Niklaus wasted no time in making his way home, his heart heavy with dread at what awaited him. Esther's eyes widened in horror as he entered, his bloodied form a grotesque tableau of violence and despair. Before he could utter a word, Asta took charge, guiding him to a seat and setting to work cleaning the dried blood from his skin with gentle but firm hands.

Asta's accusation cut through the air like a knife, her words a damning indictment of Esther's actions. "Are you proud of yourself? To save your children, you've done this to your son! He did not ask for this."

Esther recoiled as if struck, her own guilt written plainly across her features. "I did not think. I only-"

"-you only thought of yourself and your grief," Asta interjected sharply, her voice dripping with scorn. "

We warned you. Ayana warned you. Yet you still did what you wanted, and now all is unbalanced. The dead should remain dead, yet your remaining children are now unnatural. Both dead and undead. The spirits are angry with you, Esther, and punishing Niklaus is only their first action."

Esther's desperation was palpable as she pleaded with Asta for help, her grip on the young witch's arms bordering on desperation. "Help me! Help me fix this."

Asta's resolve wavered for a moment, torn between duty and compassion. "I-I do not know if I can," she confessed, uncertainty clouding her features. She glanced at her friend, who only stared at the bloodied water she had cleaned him with. "It's never been heard of before."

But Esther was relentless in her pursuit of redemption, her icy gaze boring into Asta's soul. "Your power is only in its infancy. Ayana told me of your true power. I know you can help me." Asta hesitated, and Esther used that to her advantage. "If not me-" she turned the young witch's head to face her son "-then him. Help him."

Asta stood conflicted, her heart torn between loyalty to her friend and the weight of Esther's desperation. The gravity of the situation hung heavy in the air, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon, promising an inevitable tempest.

"Maybe something can be done," Asta conceded, her voice tinged with uncertainty like a fragile thread stretched to its limit. "But only with Nik's blessing. Not without!"

Esther surged forward, her hands reaching for her son's face as if grasping for a lifeline in the midst of a raging sea. "My son. Niklaus. Did you hear, Asta? We may be able to fix this. Do you agree?"

Nik's gaze locked with his mother's, searching for a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows of despair. "No more pain?"

"No," Esther replied with a conviction that belied the truth gnawing at her conscience, a small voice whispering accusations in the depths of her mind.

Niklaus's simple nod signaled his consent, and Asta wasted no time in assisting him to his feet, her determination unwavering despite the uncertainty of their path forward. "I will take him with me. I can explain more to him in my home. Mikael will not come there." With Nik leaning heavily on her for support, Asta cast a meaningful glance at Esther, her words a silent plea for cooperation. "We need blood. Yours or his siblings, so that he will have the means to reverse this if he chooses."

"Anything," Esther vowed, her voice trembling with the weight of her desperation.

"We meet when the moon's at its highest point," Asta declared, her gaze unwavering as she laid out the plan. "We meet in the woods behind my home. Ayana is away for the next few days; this will be the best time."

"I'll be ready," Esther affirmed, her resolve hardening with each passing moment as she watched her son and the powerful witch depart.

As the door closed behind them, Esther's hand trembled with the realization of the additional consequences wrought by her actions. The path ahead was fraught with peril, a tangled web of lies and deceit that threatened to consume them all. Yet, as another son returned home, cradling the woman who had once granted them immortality, Esther knew what she had to do.

Under the cloak of night, Esther arrived at the humble abode of Ayana and Asta, her footsteps muffled by the whispering breeze that danced through the trees. She found Asta in the midst of a solemn ritual, binding Niklaus to a wooden cross with meticulous care. Asta's voice, gentle yet firm, promised relief from the agony of his curse, a desperate attempt to safeguard him from wreaking havoc upon others. As always, her son calmly listened, and he watched his friend intensely.

For many years, Esther watched the relationship between Asta and Niklaus grow and wondered if the powerful witch would be her good-daughter one day. But it would never be; the two had a relationship that she had never seen before. Their souls seemed to be entwined with pure love. It was a love that would never be romantic but would always be there.

Esther shrouded in the shadows, observed the scene with a heavy heart, memories of bygone years flooding her mind. She had once harbored hopes of Asta becoming her good-daughter, a union that fate had denied. Instead, she bore witness to a bond unlike any other, one forged in the crucible of shared trials and unwavering loyalty—a love pure and unyielding, though devoid of romantic entanglements.

"Are you ready?" Asta's voice pierced the silence, drawing Esther's attention back to the present.

"Yes," Niklaus affirmed, his gaze unwavering as it met Asta's, a silent exchange of understanding and trust that spoke volumes.

Esther moved out of the darkness and towards them; Nik's eyes lightened briefly at her appearance. With a nod to Esther, Asta motioned for her to join her by the crackling fire, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows upon their faces. The jar of blood, held in Esther's trembling hands, bore witness to the weight of their desperation, a concoction of familial ties and sacrificial bonds.

"So much?" Asta inquired, her tone laced with concern as she regarded the vessel in Esther's grasp.

"A mixture of all his siblings," Esther lied, her words a mask for the truth she dared not reveal. "They wish to aid their brother in his time of need."

"Then we begin." With a determined resolve, Asta accepted the jar, her gaze fixed upon its crimson contents with unwavering focus.

As she began the incantation, Esther watched with bated breath, the weight of her deception heavy upon her soul. Unbeknownst to Asta, the blood she used held secrets untold, a silent witness to the tragic fate that awaited Niklaus and those whose lives would intersect with his.

As the final words of the spell echoed into the night, Esther's heart clenched with remorse, a bitter reminder of the price paid for her desperate bid to rewrite destiny. Little did she know, her actions would reverberate through the annals of time, setting in motion a chain of events that would shape the fate of generations to come.