So, P@tR30n decided to screw me over last week.After I posted about Apple's pricing and how they hold payments for up to 75 days, their AI moderation system suddenly flagged my account and deactivated it for "NSFW content."
Anyway here's this week's chapterYou can read up to Chapter 45 now on Buy Me a Coffee.
There's also a poll already up where you can vote for which chapter gets posted on Monday.
Thanks for sticking around and supporting despite all the chaos.
check out authors thoughts for the link
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The Bennett house still smelled of old incense and heavier memories. Grams' energy lingered in the walls—steady, watchful, the kind that made even an Original pause before crossing the threshold uninvited.
Not that I waited for an invitation.
I strolled inside without a care, hands in my pockets, humming something half-forgotten. It didn't take long to find them—Bonnie and Caroline, buried in what could only be described as a pity party. Wine glasses, movie reruns, the occasional sigh. Lovely ambience, really.
"Well, how are you doing, Spitfire and Sunshine?" I announced, leaning against the doorframe.
Both their heads snapped toward me—Caroline's glare sharp enough to decapitate, Bonnie's a slow-burning annoyance wrapped in restraint.
"Don't you know manners?" Caroline snapped. "Were you raised in a barn?"
I feigned shock, clutching my chest dramatically. "Ah, how did you know? Yes, we were raised on a farm not far from here, actually. I could show you the place—if it hasn't changed too much. Cows, fields, the whole pastoral nightmare."
Bonnie rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here, Kol?"
Straight to business. No foreplay. Typical witch.
"Well," I said, settling into a chair like I owned the place, "since I find myself with not one, but two apprentices, it occurred to me that you'll need your own space—a sanctum, if you will. A place to practice, experiment, perhaps even avoid setting this lovely cottage ablaze."
Davina looked up from her seat in the corner, half curious, half wary. Caroline looked unimpressed. Bonnie just folded her arms, waiting for the catch.
"So," I continued smoothly, "I bought the land where the Bennett witches were burned. Your ancestral ground, Bonnie. It seemed only right to return it to you. The deed is in your name."
Bonnie blinked, genuinely startled. "You… bought it?"
I smirked. "Indeed. Consider it a gesture of goodwill. You'll need it for what comes next."
Caroline narrowed her eyes. "Which is?"
"Construction," I replied simply. "Tomorrow, at dawn, we begin building your sanctum. I'll provide the raw materials; you'll shape them with magic. We'll start with a ritual—one that calls to your ancestors, so they might recognize the place as your dwelling and walk freely within its boundaries."
Bonnie's expression softened—just a flicker, just enough for me to see the conflict. Grateful, but suspicious. The hallmark of a good witch.
"Kol," she began carefully, "you can't just—"
"Oh, but I can," I interrupted cheerfully. "And I did. You'll find I'm quite efficient when I set my mind to things."
Caroline huffed. "This is ridiculous. You act like this is some grand favor."
"Ridiculous?" I echoed, widening my eyes in mock offense. "I give you a place of power, and you call me ungenerous? I'm wounded, truly." I let my voice dip, just enough to sound half-hurt, half-theatrical. "I'm quite proud of this little gesture, you know."
Caroline crossed her arms, unamused. Bonnie still looked torn, glancing between us. "What's the catch?" she asked.
"Ah." I smiled. "There's only one condition. For the sanctum to stand, no doppelgänger—or her dogs—can set foot there. Their presence would corrupt the magic. I don't want those ingrates anywhere near something sacred."
Caroline's eyes gleamed—sharp, calculating, and very unbothered by Elena's exclusion. "Well," she said with a smirk, "I don't see a problem with that."
I raised an eyebrow. "My, my. The unshakable loyalty of Miss Forbes finally wavers. Nik would be over the moon."
She rolled her eyes, but the edge of her mouth curved in something that wasn't quite denial.
Bonnie, meanwhile, still looked conflicted, her morality wrestling with practicality. I left it alone. Let her wrestle. Doubt is the best teacher.
General POV
Kol arrived before dawn, the air still cool and silvered with mist. The Bennett house was quiet—at least, on the surface. Inside, the three girls were still awake, voices low and tired. He paused outside the door, the faint murmur of their conversation threading through the walls.
He didn't intrude. Not exactly.
Instead, he whispered a spell—a simple sound seal—to prevent their words from carrying to him. Respect, of a sort. What they were sharing was too personal, too human, even for his curiosity.
While the charm hummed to life, Kol moved to the kitchen, laying out glass vials and crushed herbs. He began brewing draughts that would invigorate them temporarily, giving energy now and deep, dreamless rest later. A small kindness, disguised as preparation.
Inside the sealed room, the conversation went on—Bonnie's voice low, heavy with remembrance. She spoke of how magic had first entered her life, of Grams' death, of responsibility she hadn't asked for. Davina followed, recounting the Harvest Festival, her mother's cold distance, the weight of being a pawn in someone else's ritual.
Then Caroline's voice—steady at first, then cracking in places she didn't mean it to. She spoke of her transition, of control learned through trauma. Of Damon, and the cruelty hidden behind his charm. Her fingers had drifted to her throat as she spoke, tracing faint scars where his fangs once broke skin.
By the time the spell faded, the air in the house had shifted—lighter, in that fragile way grief feels after being spoken aloud.
When they finally stepped out, all three looked spent but grounded. Kol was at the counter, stirring the last of his brew, sleeves rolled up, eyes half-lidded with focus.
Bonnie frowned. "There's magic around the room," she noted. "It blocked sound."
Kol didn't look up. "A courtesy," he said simply. "You needed to speak without the world listening."
She didn't reply, but the tension in her shoulders eased a fraction.
He held up a vial. "Drink this. You'll need your strength today."
Caroline eyed it suspiciously. "You're not drugging us, are you?"
Kol smirked. "Not unless you count caffeine and rejuvenating herbs as narcotics."
Davina took hers first, trusting him without a word. Bonnie followed with a sigh. Caroline hesitated until Kol arched an amused brow—and then she rolled her eyes and drank.
"Good girls," he said with a satisfied grin. "Now, follow me."
They stepped outside, the morning still wrapped in pale blue shadow. The horizon glowed faintly, a promise of dawn not yet fulfilled. The air hummed with quiet expectation—the kind of stillness that happens before something sacred.
Kol led them toward the tree line. "We'll begin when the first light touches the ground," he said. "Dawn is a good omen for spells of creation and renewal. Let's make sure the ancestors are watching when we raise their home."
He looked at Bonnie, the faintest trace of sincerity softening his voice.
"Today, Bennett magic builds again."
they reached the clearing.
The air felt different there — older, heavier. The grass was damp beneath their shoes, the scent of earth rich and clean. At the center of the clearing stood a charred circle of ground — faint traces of ash, the ghosts of fire long extinguished. The place where the Bennett witches had burned.
Kol stood at its edge, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the horizon. "You feel it, don't you?" he said quietly.
Bonnie nodded. "It's… humming."
Davina frowned. "It feels crowded. Like there are eyes everywhere."
Kol smiled faintly. "There are. Ancestors rarely miss an audience when magic begins to stir."
He stepped into the circle and turned to them. "This place remembers. It remembers fire, screams, and betrayal. But it also remembers power. Today, you will remind it what that power was meant for."
Bonnie's throat tightened as she stepped forward. "They were killed here. My people."
Kol's expression softened — not with pity, but respect. "Then let them see their legacy rebuilt."
He motioned for them to join him inside the circle. The early light brushed the treetops, pale gold beginning to bleed into blue. When the first ray touched the burnt soil, Kol raised his hands.
"Circle of ash and memory," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "By flame, by blood, by breath — awaken."
The ground trembled faintly. The scent of smoke curled through the air, though no fire burned.
He turned to Bonnie. "You're the conduit. Call to them."
Bonnie took a slow breath. "Ancestors of the Bennett line," she whispered, her voice trembling only once. "I call you by blood and by name. Watch over us as we build what was lost. Let this ground be your home once more."
The wind stirred, carrying a faint whisper — voices layered, distant, yet familiar.
Kol smiled. "Good. They're listening."
He glanced at Davina. "You. Structure the magic. Bind it to the land, not to yourselves."
Davina nodded, closing her eyes. Her hands lifted, graceful and precise, tracing invisible shapes into the air. Lines of pale light followed her fingers — glowing threads weaving a lattice of energy that sank into the soil like roots. The earth pulsed softly, answering her command.
Kol circled them slowly, murmuring runes under his breath. Ember-colored sigils flared briefly at his feet, aligning with Davina's lattice until both lights merged — gold and silver entwined.
"Excellent," he said softly. "Now, Caroline — you'll ground it."
Caroline blinked. "Me? I'm not a witch."
"No," Kol said, grinning. "You're something better — constant. The human heart wrapped in immortality. You tie this spell to the living world."
Caroline hesitated, then stepped forward. "How?"
"Touch the earth," Kol said simply. "Don't think. Just feel."
She knelt, pressing her palms into the cool soil. For a moment, nothing happened — then a faint warmth spread outward from her hands, subtle but steady. The lattice above flared brighter, its threads steadying as if anchored to her heartbeat.
Kol watched, eyes gleaming. "Perfect. You see? Every structure needs its foundation."
Bonnie opened her eyes. "What now?"
Kol exhaled slowly, his tone turning serious. "Now comes the binding."
He extended both hands, palms up. Flames ignited over his skin — gentle, golden, like sunlight caught in his veins. He held one out to each witch.
"Take it," he said. "But understand — this bond is not mine to command. It's yours to uphold. Once we start, there's no undoing."
Davina's fingers brushed the flame first — no hesitation, just quiet resolve.
Bonnie followed, her hand trembling, but the moment her palm touched the light, her expression shifted — calm, almost reverent.
Caroline added hers last, grounding the circle once more. The fire didn't burn them; it wove around their wrists like silk.
Kol's voice deepened, rhythmic now — an incantation older than any tongue they spoke.
[QUOTE="undefined, undefined, undefined"]
"By blood remembered, by flame restored,
By will unbroken, by bond assured —
Rise from the ashes, sanctum of soul,
Awaken, and make us whole."
[/QUOTE]
The light burst outward.
The earth shuddered.
For a heartbeat, everything went still — the air holding its breath.
Then, with a sound like thunder muffled by wind, the circle came alive.
The burnt ground shimmered and solidified, the ashes swirling up into shapes — wooden beams, stone arches, delicate frameworks of magic that coalesced into a foundation. The air smelled of cedar and smoke and something ancient. The sanctum began to build itself, guided by the pulse of their combined power.
Bonnie's eyes widened. "It's… alive."
Kol smiled faintly. "As it should be."
Davina moved instinctively, adding to the structure — shaping the lattice into walls and runes, her magic fluid and precise.
Caroline steadied them both, feeding her quiet strength into the circle.
Bonnie lifted her hands once more, whispering blessings to the ancestors, her magic carrying the warmth of belonging.
When it was done, the first light of morning spilled through the trees, illuminating what stood before them — a modest yet breathtaking structure of wood, stone, and sigil-bound glass. It wasn't grand, but it radiated something powerful. Peaceful. Sacred.
The ancestral whispers faded into silence, replaced by a steady hum of approval.
Kol lowered his hands, the last of the flame dying from his fingers. "And there you have it," he said softly. "Your sanctum. Warded, bound, and blessed."
Davina looked around, awe softening her face. "It feels… safe."
Caroline smiled faintly. "It feels like home."
Bonnie stood in the center, her eyes glistening in the dawn light. "Thank you," she said quietly.
Kol gave a small bow, grin returning. "Don't thank me yet, love. You still have to furnish it."
Caroline groaned. "Of course we do."
He laughed — that low, mischievous sound that somehow made the air lighter. "Don't pout, Spitfire. You'll ruin the atmosphere."
Bonnie rolled her eyes, but her lips curved upward. "You're impossible."
Kol smirked. "And yet, you're still here."
The morning light deepened, painting the clearing in gold. The new sanctum stood silent behind them — a living promise, born of ashes and tempered will.
For once, Kol didn't speak. He just looked at it, something quiet flickering behind the mischief in his eyes — pride, perhaps, or a rare trace of hope.
And for the first time in centuries, the land that had burned for witches… hummed with life again.
By the time the sun fully broke over the trees, the sanctum stood silent and whole.
The structure wasn't large — one central chamber surrounded by low archways, its walls threaded with faintly glowing sigils. The light that filtered through the glass carried a warm tint, almost golden. It smelled of cedar and smoke, earth and magic.
Bonnie stood at its heart, her palms pressed lightly against the wood. It thrummed beneath her fingers, alive in a way no ordinary structure ever could be.
"It's… beautiful," she whispered.
Caroline, still dusting soil from her jeans, let out a long breath. "Please tell me we're not doing that again tomorrow. My arms feel like I did ten hours of pilates."
Davina smiled faintly. "You complain more than Kol."
Caroline scoffed. "Yeah, well, I'm not an ancient immortal show-off with unlimited energy."
Kol, leaning against one of the pillars, smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment, Spitfire."
Bonnie turned to him. "It's stable?"
Kol nodded. "Stable enough to withstand a hurricane, magical or otherwise."
He stepped forward, running a hand along one of the carved runes. "This place will remember you now. Every spell you cast here will echo through its foundation. You've given your ancestors a home—and yourselves a sanctuary."
Davina's eyes traced the faint shimmer along the floor. "It's… warm."
Kol tilted his head. "They approve."
A faint breeze slipped through the open archway. It carried the softest whisper—words just beyond hearing. Bonnie felt it brush her skin like a memory.
Caroline looked uneasy. "Okay, tell me that's supposed to happen."
Bonnie closed her eyes, listening. "They're blessing it."
Kol's tone softened. "They should. You gave them peace."
For a long moment, the four of them stood there in silence. The morning light filtered through the sigils, scattering golden patterns across their faces. The air was calm, reverent—even Kol, for once, seemed subdued.
Finally, he clapped his hands together, breaking the stillness. "Well, my little architects, I'd say that concludes today's session. You may collapse now."
Caroline groaned, sinking onto the floor. "Don't mind if I do."
Davina joined her, laughing quietly. "I can't feel my legs."
Bonnie sat down last, stretching her sore arms. "I didn't realize how much energy this would take."
Kol leaned casually against the doorway, watching them with something halfway between amusement and pride. "Creation magic always takes its toll. It's the price of making something last."
Caroline looked up at him, tired but curious. "Why help us? Really?"
He raised a brow. "Would you believe me if I said sentiment?"
"Not a chance."
Kol chuckled. "Fair enough. Let's just say I enjoy seeing potential realized. Especially when it irritates Nik."
That earned the faintest smile from Bonnie. "So this is just sibling spite."
"Oh, darling, all great achievements are."
Davina's voice was soft. "Still… thank you."
Kol met her gaze for a moment before looking away. "Don't get sentimental on me now, little witch."
The girls lingered for a while longer, too tired to move and too content to care. Caroline eventually drifted into quiet conversation with Davina, the easy rhythm of exhaustion and new camaraderie settling between them.
Bonnie, however, stayed still—her eyes half-closed, her fingers absently tracing the sigils on the floor. The warmth that had filled the space earlier had dimmed, replaced by a faint pulse of something colder.
It wasn't hostile, just… old. Watching.
Kol noticed the change before she said anything. The humor in his expression faded.
"What do you feel?" he asked quietly.
Bonnie hesitated. "It's faint. Like… something beneath us. Buried deep."
Kol crouched beside her, palm pressed to the floor. For a moment, nothing—then a flicker. A heartbeat not their own.
His jaw tightened. "Well, that's interesting."
Caroline glanced over. "Interesting like a 'we're safe' kind of way, or a 'we should run for our lives' kind of way?"
Kol straightened, brushing dust from his hands. "Let's just call it a reminder."
"Of what?" Bonnie asked.
"That nothing powerful ever stays buried forever."
His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the shadows beyond the archway as if expecting them to move.
Bonnie frowned. "You think it's dangerous?"
Kol smiled faintly. "Everything worth having is."
The air shifted again—one soft breath of wind, colder this time.
Davina shivered. "It feels like something's waking up."
Kol looked toward the horizon, where the first bright sliver of sun climbed into the sky. "Perhaps it already has."
They left the sanctum shortly after, the door sealing itself behind them with a faint shimmer of light.
Bonnie paused, glancing back once more. The air inside was calm again, the whispers gone, but she couldn't shake the faint echo of that pulse beneath her feet.
Caroline looped an arm around her shoulders. "Hey. Don't overthink it. For once, just take the win."
Bonnie managed a tired smile. "You make that sound easy."
Caroline grinned. "It's my only skill."
Kol watched them from a few paces away, expression unreadable. The sunlight caught the faint sigil still glowing on his wrist—a rune of binding, freshly marked.
He flexed his hand, feeling the faint tremor of that unseen heartbeat in his veins.
Then he smiled, quiet and thoughtful. "Well," he murmured to himself, "this should be fun."