New Orleans did not sleep that night.
The city felt wrong.
Uneasy.
Magic pulsed unpredictably through the streets while witches whispered nervously about the ancestral plane becoming unstable. Vampires reported strange pressure rolling through the Quarter like invisible storms.
Even the werewolves in the bayou felt it.
Something ancient had awakened beneath the city.
And somehow—
Everyone instinctively blamed Drake.
Which Drake found deeply unfair.
"This is exactly why I avoid attention," he muttered while standing atop the Mikaelson compound roof.
Rain drifted softly across New Orleans beneath dark clouds.
The city glowed gold and crimson below him.
Jazz echoed through distant streets.
Human life continued blissfully unaware while supernatural panic spread quietly beneath the surface.
Drake stared across the skyline with his hands in his pockets while space around him flickered subtly.
Tiny fractures opening and closing unconsciously.
He didn't even notice anymore.
Ciri did.
She always did.
The rooftop door creaked open behind him before she stepped outside carrying two cups of coffee.
"You disappeared dramatically again."
Drake accepted one automatically.
"I walked upstairs."
"You vanished into shadows halfway through the hallway."
Pause.
"…I'm adapting."
"That is not reassuring."
Fair enough.
Ciri moved beside him while studying the city below.
The rain bent around them instinctively before touching Drake.
Reality subtly refusing contact.
She noticed immediately.
"You're leaking again."
Drake blinked.
"That sounds medically concerning."
"Your powers."
She gestured vaguely toward the distorted rainfall surrounding him.
"You do that when stressed."
Drake looked upward.
Sure enough—
Tiny distortions rippled through the air around him like heatwaves before disappearing.
Annoying.
Usually his control remained perfect now.
But the thing beneath New Orleans unsettled him.
Not because it felt dangerous.
Because it felt familiar.
And that frightened him more.
Ciri leaned against the rooftop railing beside him.
"You think it's another entity like you?"
Drake answered immediately.
"No."
The certainty surprised her.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
His voice lowered slightly.
"It feels older."
Silence.
Then Ciri slowly lowered her coffee.
"…Drake."
"I know."
Because Drake understood exactly how concerning that answer truly was.
There weren't many things older than entities like him.
Even fewer things capable of recognizing him instantly.
And yet—
That buried thing called him Little Wanderer.
Not with hostility.
With familiarity.
Like someone greeting an old memory.
The thought bothered him immensely.
For several moments neither spoke.
The rain continued falling softly around the compound while distant thunder rolled over the Mississippi River.
Then a slow clap echoed from the rooftop entrance.
"Well," Klaus Mikaelson mused while approaching casually with a whiskey glass in hand, "this atmosphere feels deeply ominous."
Ciri looked mildly offended.
"You brought alcohol to emotional trauma?"
Klaus raised one eyebrow.
"I'm a Mikaelson. It's practically a coping mechanism."
Fair.
The hybrid stepped beside them overlooking the city below.
Drake sensed curiosity radiating from him immediately.
Sharp.
Hungry.
Klaus Mikaelson collected mysteries obsessively.
And Drake represented perhaps the most fascinating mystery Klaus had encountered in centuries.
"You frightened my witches tonight," Klaus said calmly.
Drake took another slow sip of coffee.
"That wasn't intentional."
"No," Klaus agreed softly.
"That's precisely the interesting part."
Silence settled briefly.
Then Klaus looked toward him carefully.
"I've lived over a thousand years."
His voice lost some of its theatrical edge now.
More genuine.
"I've met prophets, demons, ancient spirits…"
Blue eyes narrowed slightly.
"…and monsters pretending to be gods."
Ciri watched Drake carefully from the corner of her eye.
Because Klaus wasn't mocking him anymore.
He was assessing.
Trying to understand whether Drake belonged in that list.
Klaus continued quietly.
"But you…"
Pause.
"…you feel like something the universe forgot to kill."
Ciri nearly inhaled coffee wrong trying not to laugh.
Drake looked personally offended.
"That is deeply rude."
"And accurate," Klaus answered immediately.
The hybrid smiled faintly afterward.
But beneath the humor—
There was genuine caution there now.
Because Klaus understood predators intimately.
He'd spent a millennium becoming the most feared creature in every room he entered.
Then Drake appeared.
And for the first time in a very long while—
Klaus genuinely didn't know where he stood anymore.
Strangely?
He enjoyed that feeling.
It reminded him there were still unknown things in existence.
Still mysteries.
Still dangers capable of surprising him.
Elijah appeared on the rooftop moments later looking profoundly exhausted already.
"The witches are panicking."
Rebekah followed immediately afterward.
"Oh good. More supernatural paranoia."
Elijah ignored her.
"The ancestral plane is becoming unstable."
Drake's attention sharpened immediately.
"How unstable?"
Elijah hesitated.
Then answered carefully.
"Dead witches are appearing physically."
Silence.
Ciri blinked slowly.
"…That feels bad."
"It is bad," Elijah confirmed.
"The ancestors should not manifest outside consecrated territory."
Klaus swirled whiskey thoughtfully.
"And yet they're doing precisely that."
Drake frowned slightly.
Because now he could feel it too.
The city's supernatural structure had changed.
The barrier between physical reality and spiritual layers was weakening.
Something below New Orleans was affecting dimensional boundaries directly.
Which should have been impossible.
Unless—
Drake's thoughts stopped abruptly.
No.
Impossible.
Surely impossible.
Then the city lights flickered.
Every single one.
All at once.
The rain stopped instantly.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
And every supernatural creature in New Orleans felt it simultaneously.
A pulse.
Ancient power surging upward from beneath the city like a heartbeat.
The rooftop trembled softly.
Far below them—
Somewhere beneath cemeteries and catacombs and buried history—
Something moved.
Drake went perfectly still.
Because this time—
The thing spoke clearly.
Found you.
The voice echoed directly inside his mind.
Ancient beyond language.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Just aware.
Interested.
Watching.
Klaus noticed Drake's expression sharpen instantly.
"What happened?"
Slowly Drake looked toward Saint Louis Cemetery where black mist now curled unnaturally between the tombs.
The shadows there moved wrong.
Too fluid.
Too alive.
And beneath them—
Something waited.
"…I think," Drake said quietly.
"Something wants to meet me."
Ciri immediately looked concerned.
"That sentence has never led to good outcomes."
"Agreed," Elijah said instantly.
But Klaus—
Klaus smiled.
Dangerous curiosity burning in his eyes.
"Well then," the hybrid murmured softly.
"Shall we go meet New Orleans' newest nightmare?"
Drake stared toward the cemetery silently.
Then finally—
"…I have a very bad feeling about this."
Rebekah snorted.
"That means it's definitely important."