The Originals - Revenant

Chapter 8

»»-— 1702, Cadiz, Spain —-««

I screamed terrified and sat up quickly. My hands flew to my chest from where just some seconds ago Mikael had ripped my heart out.

There was no hole, and I could feel my rapid heartbeat underneath my skin. My pendant must have brought me back again. I released a shaky breath. I was trembling. I looked around looking for Mikael. if he was still here and he saw me alive he would quickly put two and two together and figure out the pendant was responsible for my durability.

But then it hit me. I wasn't in the port, I was back at the cottage with rampage all around me. The blood still coloured the walls but no body decorated the floor. Mikael had killed me in the port, what was I doing here? And where were all my killings?

I shivered and a foggy cloud escaped my lips. This was not normal, it was the middle of the summer, it wasn't supposed to be cold. Somehow everything felt colder and... darker.

"Welcome back, stranger," a voice said behind me.

A voice? No. His voice. The second I heard it, my eyes opened wide and I turned around, struggling on the floor.

And I saw him.

"Henrik?" I whispered disbelievingly.

He shot me a Mikaelson grin. It was him.

»»———— - - - ————««

I tried to stand up but I was so shocked my body betrayed me and I tripped over my own feet. I finally got a hold of myself and brought myself up, grabbing a table for support. I took some steps toward him and I hesitantly placed my arms on his chest.

It wasn't my imagination. He was there.

"Wh- What?," I whispered, half crying, half chuckling.

He smiled at me but his smile seemed sad. My hands needed more proof of his presence and they hungrily explored his doublet, neck, cheeks. It was him. He was here. He hadn't aged a day, he still had that boyish look, but he seemed more mature, as if he had lived those centuries along with us and they had taken the innocence and youth away from him.

"H- How is this possible?" I asked mesmerized, still analyzing his body and cupping his face with both my hands, afraid to lose him again, "You are dead. Those wolves killed you. You are dead." My statement came out as a whisper full of pain.

"I am," he said, still with that pitiful smile.

I locked eyes with him. Oh, how I had missed those green eyes.

"And so are you," he added softly.

I frowned. "What?" I talked low, in whispers. I was afraid of somehow scaring him away. My hands fidgeted around his body, eager to feel more, touch more, make sure he was real and he wouldn't just fade.

He grabbed my hands to stop me, and I looked at his eyes. He looked sad.

"Come on," he said, "You have to go back."

I frowned at him.

"Go back?" I asked.

"We need to find your body, you have to go back," he insisted.

"Back where?" I asked

"To the living," he explained but it only made me more confused.

"I don't understand," I whispered.

"Let's just go, Beyla," he held my hand and guided me out of the grotesque room. I let him lead me, I was too shocked to refuse.

We walked outside and I prepared to get hit by the chill of the night, but the temperature remained as it was inside. The cold wasn't in the air, but in my bones and it was impossible to shake. My breath started to spike, my heart started to hurt, and my stomach tense. I let go of him and hugged my torso, bending over in pain.