Meanwhile in the Salvatore estate, another conversation broke loose. "What's wrong?" Stefan instantly asked as soon as he saw Elena.
Elena looked up, surprised. "Stefan? I didn't hear you come in." She tries to offer a smile—but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Her heart isn't in it. Not tonight.
"Spill it Elena... What's got you forcing that smile?" Damian quickly asked.
Elena hesitates, glancing between Stefan and Damian—both watching her with that familiar look. The one that says: We know you better than you think.
She exhales sharply, the weight pressing down too hard to keep inside. "It's Aria."
She started, pacing toward the window where moonlight spills across the hardwood floor. "Bonnie had a vision tonight. One of those… deep ones. One that has nothing to do with intuition and all to do with magic."
Stefan steps forward, voice calm but alert. "What did she see?"
Elena turns to them—her face pale in the moon's silver glow.
"Derek Hale."
Both men go still—as if time itself paused for a breath.
Then—Damian scoffs softly, arms crossing—but his eyes are sharp. "Well now... I didn't expect to hear that name again so soon."
Stefan looks at him sharply. "You know him?"
"No not personally," Damian admits, "but every vampire in California knows of the Hale werewolves. Especially after what happened with Peter..."
Beat.
"But Derek? He was different. Ruthless when pushed. Loyal almost to a fault—even before he became Alpha." He pauses—and there's something unreadable in his gaze when he adds: "And if fate's circling back… it won't be gentle. What does it have to do with Aria?" Damian asked the one question that slipped.
Elena turns, arms folding tight around herself. "That's the part I'm not really sure about. Bonnie didn't say much—and apparently she just saw flashes of a man staring intensely at Aria. A vision that left an unsettling feeling in her chest." Elena hesitates before concluding: "She also sensed something more… a pull. Like fate was tugging at Aria's strings."
Stefan frowns. "And what precisely did Bonnie say it meant for Aria?"
"Danger... She made her promise that she would stay away from him." Elena answered.
Damian raises a brow. "And? How did Aria take it?"
"How do you think she took it? Her bubbly humor took a tumble."
Damian lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Ah. So she didn't take it well." He pauses, considering. "But that's the thing about promises made under fear or obligation—especially ones forced by magic—they don't always stick. And when the heart gets involved? The soul? They have their own damn agenda."
Stefan steps closer to Elena, concern etched into every line of his face. "If there's even a chance this Derek is drawn to her—if it's more than just random danger—then we need to be careful. Not everyone with darkness in their past is doomed to repeat it… But Beacon Hills has a way of turning fate into bloodshed."
Elena looks between them, voice barely above a whisper: "I'm afraid for her. She doesn't know how deep any of this goes—the real world beneath our world. And if she starts falling for someone like Derek... Aria won't just lose her innocence. She'll lose herself trying to keep him."
He softly placed a hand on Elena's shoulder, saying: "Excuse me for a moment. I quickly need to make a phone call." With that being said he excused himself.
Outside in the garden he sat down on a wooden bench, took out his phone and called Paul's number. It's been generations since he last gave Paul a call.
Paul answers after the third ring, his voice groggy. "You better have a damn good reason for calling this late."
"Paul, Stefan here. We have a problem..." Stefan said dryly.
Paul sits up straight, alert even if the sleep still drags at his voice. "What kind of problem?"
"Anima cantat." Stefan breathed out. Leaving it at that even though he knows that Paul is sure to ask who had fallen victim to it.
Paul curses softly: "Damn it, don't tell me…"
"Well, I can assure you that, you won't believe it if I told you," Stefan assured him.
Paul lets out a dry, disbelieving laugh—then the tone shifts. Darker. Heavier. "Anima Cantat isn't something you just stumble into, Stefan. It's not some fairy tale whispered over campfires. It's the universe balancing scales written in blood and bone long before any of us even existed." He pauses, voice lowering: "So when you say it like that… as if it's just a problem… Who is it?"
The silence stretches on forever—and Paul starts fearing the lingering question more. he knows that fate doesn't strike without warning signs. "Is it one of yours? One from Mystic Falls? Or..."
A beat of silence.
"Did it finally catch up to someone in that cursed town? Someone with old fire in their veins... someone marked by fire and loss?" Paul fears what's to come next.
"Nope, not Mystic Falls... Beacon Hills... Derek Hale..." Stefan quipped.
The line goes completely silent.
No breathing. No rustling. Nothing.
Then—Paul lets out a slow, measured breath—like he's trying not to ignite something dangerous.
"Derek Hale… Of course I should have known it'll be him."
He mutters, voice thick with memory and warning: "That man was born under a storm cloud and raised by fire. I've seen what happens when wolves like him find their match... It doesn't end quietly."
Stefan leans forward on the bench, elbows on his knees. "So you've suspected this? And you know about her?"
"Aria Vanderwaal," Paul answered before Stefan even had a chance to mention her name. "Daughter to Anna, married into the Stilinski family tree. Her bloodline—distant, but there's something unusual to it… an echo of old magic that has always been there."
Stefan frowns. "What do you mean?"
'You think she's just some ordinary human caught in fate's crossfire? No," Paul growls low. "She's more than that. And if Anima Cantat has chosen her as its vessel… Then the universe isn't playing favorites—it's preparing for war."
"We are talking about the same innocent, oblivious girl. I mean I've known her for so long, she's best friends with Elena, my girlfriend." Stefan breathed into the transceiver.
Paul exhales sharply—almost a scoff. "Innocent? Yes. Oblivious? Maybe. But that doesn't make her powerless, Stefan."
His voice tightens with the weight of ancient knowledge.
"Sometimes, the universe chooses the quietest soul to bear the heaviest fate. The ones who don't see it coming are often the ones meant to change everything. You think I don't know about Aria Vanderwaal? I've felt ripples in the veil whenever her name is spoken near supernatural ears. Small things—candles flickering without wind, dreams repeating across three different seers... whispers in Latin from mouths that don't speak the tongue."
"And now this?"
"An alpha like Derek Hale—a man forged in loss and fire—being pulled by something so rare even most immortals never witness it?" Paul leans into his words: "That's not coincidence. That's a design."
Stefan rubs his temple, voice low. "So what do we do? Aria promised Bonnie she'd stay away from him..."
Paul cuts him off: "Promises won't matter if their souls are already singing together. You can chain a wolf with silver, lock a vampire in daylight—but you can't stop fate when it comes calling on borrowed time."
A long silence falls between them under star-strewn skies, miles apart. Then Paul adds softly: "Just remember this—now that they've found each other… The world will either bend around them… Or break trying to keep them apart."
"Maybe you want to read up on the history of the Ashokan Sisters, because that's precisely where her unawoken powers comes from." Paul added. "It might help you understand the situation better."
Stefan raises a brow. "Ashokan Sisters... that doesn't sound familiar. I'll have Bonnie look into it."
"If this Bonnie-person is a witch she'll know all about them." Paul added.
Stefan makes a noise of acknowledgment. "Thanks, Paul. I'll do some digging. You should get some rest; I shouldn't have called so late."
"I'm glad that you did. I'll inform the alpha as soon as it's day."
Stefan smiles slightly. "Take care of yourself, alright? You and me... well, we've seen more than our share of hell. "Sadly those times were just the tip of what's to come."
A wry chuckle. "And here I was thinking it couldn't get any worse. I suppose that's what I get for getting my hopes up."
With that being said, the call ended.