The moment did not announce itself with thunder.
It came quietly—so quietly that if Kora had not been waiting her entire life, she might have missed it.
One breath she was standing beneath the trees at the edge of the settlement, pine needles soft beneath her boots, Rebekah at her side and Henrik throwing stones into the stream nearby. The next, the world tilted— as if something deep inside her had finally opened its eyes.
[Integration beginning.]
The voice was not sound. It existed behind her thoughts, layered beneath memory and instinct, vast and patient.
Kora closed her eyes.
She felt it settle into her bones.
For thirteen years she had lived with two truths braided together: the life she remembered—glass towers, glowing screens—and this one, rough-spun and candlelit, full of iron and superstition and blood. She had waited through winters and wars and whispered prophecies for this exact second.
Her fingers curled slightly as warmth spread through her chest, then down her spine.
"Kora?" Rebekah asked, concern threading her voice.
"I'm here," Kora said softly. "Just… give me a moment."
Rebekah nodded immediately, loyal as breathing. Henrik, sensing something serious, wandered closer and hovered near her elbow.
Inside Kora's mind, understanding unfolded. Structure. Purpose.
[Host confirmed: Kora Mikaelson (the female version of other timelines' Kol Mikaelson)
Past-life memory integrity: Complete
System type: Multiversal Survival & Companion Integration]
She swallowed, throat tight.
Memories surfaced unbidden: screeching tires, the strange weightlessness after impact, the voice that had asked what she wanted most.
[Pre-incarnation purchase acknowledged.
Assets expended: six billion system credits
TARDIS secured.]
Her breath caught.
Rebekah reached for her hand. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Kora squeezed back gently. "Not a ghost," she said. "A… promise being kept."
Henrik frowned. "Are you sick?"
"No," Kora said firmly. "I'm exactly the opposite."
She opened her eyes.
Nothing looked different to anyone else—but to her, the world felt sharper. Her balance adjusted subtly, reflexes tightening like a drawn bowstring. A warmth settled over her shoulders, and with a thought, a cloak shimmered into being—plain wool to any outside eye, but woven with quiet resilience.
She exhaled slowly.
[Starter items, Basic Magical Charm Kit (Harry Potter) and currently summoned System Survival Cloak (Bee & Puppycat), available to be summoned from infinite system inventory. Starter ability, Minor Reflex Enhancement (Bee & Puppycat), integrated.]
Kora looked at her siblings—really looked at them. Rebekah's earnest intensity. Henrik's open trust. The two people anchoring her to this world even as she prepared to leave it behind.
"There's something I need to show you," Kora said.
She glanced toward the settlement, where smoke curled from hearth fires and her father's voice carried too easily when he was angry. Where her mother watched everything and missed the most important truths.
"Not here," she added.
Rebekah didn't ask questions. She never did, not when Kora used that tone. "Where, then?"
"Somewhere safe."
They followed her into the trees, to the clearing she had chosen years ago without fully understanding why. Shielded by ancient oaks. Quiet. Forgotten.
Kora stepped into the center and closed her eyes again.
'Release inventory item, TARDIS,' she thought.
There was a sound—deep, like something old waking up after a long sleep. Space bent politely aside as a blue shape resolved itself into existence, settling into the clearing as if it had always belonged there.
Henrik gasped. "Kora—"
Rebekah stared, mouth parted. "That's… impossible."
Before them stood a blue wooden box. Weathered. Solid. Entirely wrong and utterly real.
Kora's chest ached with recognition.
"That," she said, voice thick, "is my way out."
She stepped forward and placed her palm against the door. It felt warm, alive and she felt as the TARDIS'S soul reached out to her bonding her forever to it.
She blinked before looking back at her two closest siblings, "It's a house that moves," she explained carefully, choosing words that would make sense here. "A traveler. Bigger inside than out. It can cross not just land and sea, but when and *
where."
Rebekah turned to her slowly. "You've been planning this," she said.
"Yes."
"How long?"
Kora met her gaze. "Longer than this life."
Rebekah studied her face—and then, without fear, reached out and touched the blue wood. "Then I want to go with you."
The words landed like a vow.
Inside Kora, something shifted.
[Sibling bond available], the system murmured.
[Consent required.]
Kora took Rebekah's hands. "If you choose this," she said quietly, "you won't just be my sister. You'll be… bound to me. To the path I walk."
Rebekah didn't flinch. "I already am."
Warmth surged through Kora's chest, spreading outward like light through glass.
[Bond accepted.]
Nothing visible happened. No glow. No sound.
But Rebekah inhaled sharply, eyes widening just a fraction. "Kora," she whispered. "Something… changed."
Kora smiled, tears stinging her eyes. "Good."
Henrik shifted nervously. "Am I going too?"
"Not yet," Kora said gently, kneeling in front of him. "You will when you're older, if that's what you still decide when you're ready."
He considered that, then nodded. "Okay. I trust you."
The system went very, very still.
Then—
[Temporal divergence detected.]
Cold flooded Kora's veins.
[A future version of Henrik Mikaelson faces imminent death.
Werewolf attack. Fatal outcome.
Mission priority: absolute.]
Her breath hitched.
Not again.
Not this timeline.
Kora rose slowly, eyes fixed on the blue box before them.
"Rebekah," she said, voice steady despite the storm inside her. "We're leaving sooner than I thought."
Rebekah straightened. "Where?"
Kora pressed her hand to the TARDIS door as it unlocked with a familiar, beloved click.
"To save our brother."
And somewhere in the future, twelve-year-old Henrik Mikaelson was about to die—
unless she broke the rules of destiny first.