AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's been forever and a day since I've updated this story *hides* but I finally tapped into some fic-writing time and inspiration for an update. The mythological history/world I'm attempting to build for this story is convoluted and stumped me for a bit.

Anyway, I hope you like it. See you below.

xx Ashlee Bree

Thorns, blood thick as tar, and terror—that's what Caroline felt first. The terror, the terror of thorns sliding out of finger stems and slicing. Slithering across invisible hands—one clamped over her mouth, the other suctioned around her waist—and slicing. Shaving away pieces of black leather, then skin, like a blunt razor in swipe, swipe, swipe, siphoning this foreign black blood like a thirsty cactus in slurps and shooting dry creases across the parted lips that sputtered in her ear instead of spoke.

"Surely you m-must know, Caroline," he clucked then hissed in surprise, lowering his wilting hand from her mouth as if in slow surrender, "surely you must know why I arrive in shadowed disguise by now?"

No.

She'd just needed fresh air. Time away from her panicked friends to think and to breathe. Peace that only the picturesque quiet of the duck pond at the end of her property would achieve. She'd just wanted solitude. Privacy for her meticulous must-plan thoughts where she could just be. Just a familiar, comfortable place where she usually felt free. And now…

This was not happening, this was not happening! With her seclusion invaded, with this grasping fiend belting her to him with one arm and Caroline unable to flee, hands—her hands—crusaded to set her free. Not with fists, not with punches…but with jaggers.

Sharp and lethal and green.

"I must say," he drawled, "it's lovely to catch you strolling beneath the full moon alone, your golden hair sparkling in the starlight." His voice dripped with ease and amusement, the only flicker of discomfort coming from his occasional hitch of breath. "You—you almost look like you belong in the sky. The resident Lady of the Moon: L-luminous. Fierce. Enchanting."

"How does it—how does it feel to be Queen of the Night?" he continued roguishly, poison probably oozing into his dropped hand and contributing to his slurred speech.

Thorns. Caroline felt nothing but thorns. Coming out, engorging from within. Aching, aching, aching to deaden those pulsating, arrogant black veins beneath his skin. Who cared why or how she suddenly possessed this new flower-power. Or where it came from. Or from what. Or from whom…

It was hers. Hers to hone, hers to control, hers to wield. The microscopic cells in her body buzzed with gloriously toxic striking potential, nothing but an endless reserve of thorns, thorns, thorns.

And although Caroline kept this to herself, for the first time, she felt empowered. Capable. Primed to fight. Kill.

"Klaus," she growled in challenge, finally acknowledging him.

Weeks earlier:

Following her return from the Underworld, Caroline spent the next few hours submerged in worry, confusion, and secrecy, careful not to draw too much attention to the future Goddess of the Clouds resting on a canopy bed in her attic…asleep. Unconscious, but recovering. Slowly.

Feverish sleep aided in repairing Elena's injuries and replenishing the mystical sky-energy that had been nearly depleted from her bones upon arrival, but preserved the mystery as to why she'd thrown cautious yet triumphant looks over her shoulder as she'd run toward safety. Or who—what—had been responsible for the peril she had faced (and fled) in the first place?

Elena's fainting, impromptu arrival cast gloom over Forbes manor and reignited tension between mother-and-daughter. In lieu of addressing Liz's this feels ominous remarks, Caroline instead focused on tending to her friend with diligence.

First, she created a fortress. Cloaking her house—and the attic room—in two must-be-invited-in seals courtesy of two enchanted casters (and best friends), Bonnie Bennett and Davina Claire. With the magical seals, they'd be better protected. Guarded. No one could cross either threshold without her or Liz's permission, thereby sweeping any lurking threat of danger away from the doors and windows like a broom…at least temporarily.

Next, Caroline cleansed Elena of dirt, debris, and knotted-disarray. She applied healing herbs to her cuts and fractured ankle, then tucked her into bed to rest. She rifled through her friend's tattered belongings, desperate for clues—for any hint of explanation—but found nothing helpful. Nothing but rocks in shoes, a blank leather-bound book, and a small canvas pouch with the word Goddess stitched across the middle. Empty.

After that, Caroline alerted only those she believed she could trust or needed to know. Enzo, loyal devotee that he was, manifested at the first utterance of trouble. Proclaiming that he came to maim or to marinate, whichever the defeat of this unknown enemy required. He was at Caroline's service as friend, counselor, and warrior.

Stefan, unfortunately, remained impossible to reach for he'd left on a trekking journey through the Mountain Crypts of Solitude a week ago and was still out-of-range. "Noise" in all its forms—technological, mystical, mortal, animal or otherwise—had been banned by the cryptonian monks there centuries ago. Massive sheer umbrella shields covered the temples from core to ground to sky and deflected outside interference, sound-proofing the Crypts. The Crypt Emperors, also known as spirit whisperers, warded hard against anything that could inhibit the cleansing of the soul…and that meant all sounds louder than a thought.

The purpose of Stefan's visit there melded his love of introspection with his need to nurse his broken, Elena-loving heart back to health. News of this calamity, once it finally reached him, would swell him with profound absentee guilt. Of that Caroline was sure. But that, she'd deal with later.

She had bigger problems right now—namely the eldest Salvatore. Damon, an impulsive, festering pain in her ass, never made sharing news easy. Ever.

Caroline hesitated. She toiled over the necessity of involving him partly because of his past untrustworthiness and partly because he'd probably blame Elena's current plight on her incompetence (in which case she'd be compelled to rip out his jugular with blunt teeth). The words you're the only stupid thing here reverberated in her head almost in preparation of his misplaced venom.

Damon's past cruelties still perforated Caroline's memory. And as a result, they'd tainted her perception of his so-called "changed ways." To make matters worse, she knew that he and Elena had been navigating through a particularly rocky, bickering stretch of relationship and weren't on the best of terms. They'd agreed to time and space apart, which of course, had turned Damon into a bigger sarcastic prick than usual. Particularly towards Caroline, whom he'd targeted with sitting-in-a-tree cracks about her and Klaus.

Dick.

The fact of the matter was he didn't cope well with temporary grievances in his and Elena's relationship. He coped worse with any kind of separation or pent-up sexual frustration. Plus, since rash destructiveness characterized his behavior under normal circumstances, when Elena factored into the equation it became a recipe for madness. Irrationality. Bloodlust and mania propelling him into precarious skirmishes in the nymph woodlands, which were checked only by Stefan's brotherly interventions.

In the end, however, Caroline reasoned that Damon (despite his laundry list of flaws) was still a boyfriend. As the current love of Elena's life (gods knew why), he'd earned the right to know. And as Elena's friend above all, she knew she needed to inform him. So Caroline did just that.

"It seems you're good in a crisis, Blondie," Damon admitted as he perched near Elena's bed. His index finger trailed his girlfriend's cheeks affectionately. "All of your high strung qualities turned out to be useful tonight instead of irritating."

"Gee, thanks."

Dick.

"I'm impressed."

Caroline crossed her arms. Fixed him an incredulous look.

"No, really." Irony absent from his tone, he thumbtacked her in that cool, crystal, candid way only he could. With eyes. "You didn't delay. You took control and got Elena to safety. You called the spell-caster twins stat, searched for lurking threats, rummaged for clues…"

"And while you may be unbearably neurotic," he remarked caustically, averting his gaze, "you're a good friend…person. As your loser boyfriend once-upon-a-time ago, I didn't see it but I'm—but I'm grateful to know you," he choked out uncomfortably, clearing his throat and squeezing his girlfriend's hand. "I'm grateful."

Though the force and meaning of his words had not gone unfelt, Caroline shrugged and answered, "I've known Elena all my life, Damon." She peered at him sideways. "I love her. I will always love her," she said.

"The two of us grew up French braiding each other's hair, making best friend bracelets out of grape vine, tossing money-seeds into wishing water, building goddess palaces out of twigs in my backyard. She was there the day my dad left my mom. She held my hand, let me cry. She's been there…for everything."

"We've been friends for as long as I can remember—" she sighed, placing her hand on top of Damon's "—and I'd kill for her. I'd offer my own life in exchange for hers if I could."

Damon gave her a reassuring squeeze, "It will never come to that," he promised.

Glancing down at the bed, Caroline noted their three stacked hands and how they reminded her of blocks. Bricks. Sturdy alone, but stronger together.

"Regardless, I'd do anything for someone who matters to me. Anything," she stressed.

In the quiet seconds that followed, trust and appreciation stretched between them for the first time in their entire relationship. Unspoken, but true.

After a moment, lightheartedness seeped into Damon's expression. He turned to her, eyes twinkling, and said, "Anyone who underestimates you is an idiot."

"Says the guy who wears the sunshine scar I bashed into his face," Caroline laughed.

"Thank you for highlighting my point," he smirked. "I mean, who would've guessed Sunshine Barbie could throw such a mean right hook?"

xxx

Nothing roused Elena from her fitful slumber—not food or fluids, not friends, not boyfriends, not spelled medicine. The only times she stirred at all occurred in the moments when poetic gibberish tumbled from her mouth and into her pillow:

Broken chains.

Rolling plains.

Nightmares gallop

to collect a debt unpaid

from one smart face

dashing through life's maze.

xxx

Coming, coming, coming…

is this promise preordained.

xxx

—A sun of blood will rise

to eclipse the world

in evolutionary size.

Forever will it guise and advise

the lands, the waters, the ashes, and skies;

forever will it shine.

xxx

Eternity wields;

Eternity binds;

Eternity arrives to claim the ultimate prize.

Elena muttered the words over and over again as she snored, an apocalyptic warning to be heeded.

Unfortunately, with the Naturelands entrenched in a millennia-long gods vs. mortal strife over magic energy, resources, and rule, battles raged throughout the earth kingdom constantly. It remained impossible for Caroline to deduce from where this prophecy (and imminent threat) heralded. The Seven-Flowered Realms? Mystic Olympus? Reeflanta? Icetrench Country? The Bouldered Ravines? The Underworld?

She didn't know. Elena's words were too veiled. Too ambiguous. But of one thing she knew for sure—danger hastened forward. It was coming, coming, coming…and she'd be prepared when it finally arrived.

xxx

The Falls gang, save Stefan, kept close vigil by their friend's bed those first few days. Whispering. Fretting. Analyzing cryptic phrases. Planning defense and strategy. Waiting.

Damon and Enzo alternated between patrolling the nymph woodlands and policing the shadowed nooks around Forbes manor. Caroline ran interference between her parents when Liz refused to let Bill enter the premises after his deadly Underworld stunt. Bonnie and Davina flipped through their grimoires day and night looking for any incantation that would thread Elena's worn self back together, but soon discovered that her full-recovery was bound to something larger.

"With her body and sky-energies so ravaged," Bonnie explained, "Elena draws nourishment from nature."

"Elaboration would be helpful here, casterella," Damon sniped.

"Would you shut the hell up and let them finish?" Caroline bristled.

"Excuse my crotchety friend, ladies," Enzo said as he gripped Damon hard by the shoulders, "his rudeness stems from lack of cast-blast fluency and dying concern for his ladylove." He narrowed his eyes, trying to extradite an apology from him with a single disapproving look. "Doesn't it…mate?"

Shrugging out of Enzo's grasp, Damon maneuvered away with a scowl.

"What he said," he grumbled begrudgingly. "Carry on."

Davina ignored the interruption and proceeded, "As a future cloud goddess, Elena's spirit has access to the heavenly reserves of Mystic Olympus. She can siphon power from the globe's sun-rotations and from the night's skies to heal herself."

"She will recover, then?" Caroline asked, hopeful.

Bonnie nodded, but gave her friend a cautioning look, weighing her response. "Eventually…" she faltered.

Damon snarled under his breath.

"Since nature is slow, recuperation will—" she paused "—recuperation will take time…" she explained.

Concern crinkled Caroline's forehead. "How much time?"

"Elena will not wake," Bonnie began with a sharp intake of breath, "until the dusk before the next full moon."

Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

"You have got to be kidding me," Damon groaned.

One month.

Elena Gilbert could not rise from that bed or walk out that of that room for one month. That meant 30 more days tainted with the riddle of her disheveled arrival in Caroline's backyard. That meant 720 hours more full of worry, threat, and magical concealment. That meant 43,200 more minutes until anything more could be done for her.

Now, all any of them could do was pray for peace, plan for war, and wait for answers or nightmares.

…Whichever came first.

One month later, morning:

The passing of four unprovoking weeks back at home had done little to quell Caroline's uneasiness—only heightened it. Something felt wrong. Off.

She couldn't blink away the memory of Elena barreling through her family's apple orchard consumed in hissing green thunder clouds, her eyes wild, her hair teased into a crown of knots on her head, dragging an injured ankle behind her covered in dandelions and blades of grass; any more than she could reconcile the fact that Klaus hadn't contacted her at all since she'd returned to the Naturelands. Not once.

There were no leaves-to-be-read in her mobile leaflet. No missed chirp-calls or chirpmails were left for her to hear. No forever-friend requests were sent to her on social media. Nada.

Nothing but silence thicker than death.

Caroline would've been offended had she not found his prolonged silence bizarre. Suspicious. Klaus had flirted with her in the Underworld, okay? A lot. He'd bought her clothes and gifted her a flying horse, for crying out loud! More than that, however, he'd made a point to tell her that his sister had both invented and institutionalized intra-world communication.

In fact, the King of Darkness had freaking bragged about his modern technology usage:

Don't let my age fool you, sweetheart, he'd winked, I can keep up with all the leafing, chirp-calling, and tweeting of your millennial generation just fine. I'm what you'd call an ancient pro, he'd said.

Is that so?

He'd nodded and arched an eyebrow. Let's just say I'll know if you try to dodge me.

And if I do? What then, O'Savy One? she'd taunted.

Head cocked to the side, Klaus' gaze had darkened and a low wolfish sound had rumbled from his chest as he'd mused in that self-assured way of his, You won't, Caroline. You won't.

His words essentially implied, if not promised, future contact, right? Why bait? Why dawdle? Why had he not picked a stinking technology and initiated? Unless…unless…

Present, beneath the full moon:

"Klaus."

As Caroline breathed his name, the consonants scraping across her tongue as harsh and as frigid as an iceberg, she leaned back against his invisible form. Her grip on his wrist tightened, but did not wound again. Not yet. "What an unexpected not to mention unwelcome surprise," she said through clenched teeth.

"Missed me bad this past month, have you, love?"

She scoffed in disgust, "You wish."

Affronted, he tsked. "And here I believed I'd made a decent first impression?"

"Think again."

"How disappointing to be mistaken," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "Listen—" his warm breath tickled the back of her neck "if you're sore about my lack of contact I can—"

"Save it, King Darko," Caroline interrupted. "I'm immune to your charming excuses, you got me?"

Amused, Klaus chuckled and tried a different tack, "I detect a lot of powerful animosity emanating from you today; and while I find this new side of you delightfully fascinating," he hummed, "perhaps we can be civil and declare a truce for a few moments? I think it's time we—what is it you silly earth-dwellers like to say, hm?"

Baiting her, he bent closer and whispered intimately in her ear, "I think it's time we clear the cloudy air, don't you?" There was a slight edge to his voice. "We both value honesty (prefer it, I should say), so let's lay out all of those hidden cards—reveal all of those aces and spades tucked up sleeves for only careful, cunning eyes to see…" he continued in that cool, charming way.

Their tethered proximity collapsed air in Caroline's lungs and fired goosebumps raised in DANGER DANGER DANGER down her spine. Her accelerating heartbeat crashed cymbals against her eardrums. But she was brazen and strong. Unafraid.

Lifting her chin in opposition, she huffed in reply, "Frankly, I don't see why I should do any such thing."

"Yes," Klaus growled as he reined her tighter against him, "you do." His pinky pressed into her hip bone with pressure and purpose. Harder. Deeper. "You and I both know I came here for a reason, Caroline."

A reason.

Yes, Caroline knew he had a reason; she knew it lurked behind the savage warning in his words. Better, thanks to Elena's dusk-awakening explanation, she knew the truth now…all that this god-awful immortal snake coveted for his Underworld kingdom…all that he hunted in the Naturelands tonight while cloaked in midnight and shadow…that precise something he needed to make himself truly omnipotent. Unstoppable. The King of Almighty Kings.

Still shrouded in invisibility, Caroline couldn't see him…only feel him. Behind her. Against her. Breath ragged yet expectant against her neck. Pulse powerful and erratic. One arm tense around her waist. Solid. Possessive.

It, and he, drummed with contradiction: his arm firm enough to hold her in place, but lax enough to let her move. It felt as if he'd somehow fastened a collar of ownership around her waist, but no leash. Like he'd staked a claim, but she remained free.

One twirl is all it would take—one twirl away from him and Caroline could leave. Escape.

But she didn't move.

Instead, she cemented her feet on the lip of the duck pond and spoke over her right shoulder, her fingers suddenly thrumming, thrumming with energy over the masculine wrist she still held, "Rumor has it you rarely leave your red-skied Hot Box and that you prefer to dispatch your emissaries to complete business here for you. Is the Naturelands' sun too tepid for your taste, your Highness, or do you merely revel in barking orders at your moon-howling slave army from your throne of bones?" Caroline asked demurely yet pointedly.

If Klaus wanted a discussion, she'd give him one…in verbal fistfuls.

"Neither, I assure you," he replied in monotone.

"Tell me, then, King of Darkness," she proceeded haughtily, "why are you here?" Caroline wanted to hear him say it out loud. Right here, right now. "Tell me what you're here to collect."

Air flared in and out, in and out of his nostrils and gusted against the back of her head, ruffling curls and building suspense between them with flame and flickering embers. Burning, burning to erupt and spread.

"I want you to be honest with me about what you want."

Klaus went rigid behind her, darkness swallowing him deeper into night's shadowed dust and debris. He leaned in close again, "Come with me and I'll tell you," he purred.

Caroline snorted in disgust.

"Come with me, Caroline."

Thundering red fog suddenly smoked over her ankles, then her knees. It billowed to her waist and shoulders in a dawdling counterclockwise rotation and feathered across her body like a soft caress from a sun-blazed cloud, massaging her with relaxing steam—not heat. Almost like it sensed that warmth soothed her and she'd want to blanket herself. Cuddle into it.

"I have a better idea," she countered, still fighting, the intensity between them increasing, "how about you singe your ass all the way back to the Underworld where you belong and leave me the hell alone?"

Klaus' answering laugh turned hard. Serious. "You will find little peace here after this, sweetheart. No harmony."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

Caroline shivered at the snarling emphasis he'd placed on those last two words, but she wasn't afraid. Only…uncertain. Of Elena, of this prophecy, of this alluring whistle in her bones…of him most of all.

"Come away with me," Klaus repeated in that melodious tone. He spoke in lullaby. Calm and sensuous and low.

The fog pecked at her neck in teasing love bites next, then kissed at her chin with intoxicating ease. What would happen if it brushed across her lips? Wafted into her nostrils? Stung her open eyes? Encircled her entire head?

"Come away with me and I'll explain how your home—how this precious green leafy land will be infiltrated soon by Cloud Conquerors such as this world has never seen," he continued. "Come away because it's not safe here and you need training to master your gifts. Come away because I am not the only one who will be able to smell fresh magic on your breath; I am not the only one who will be tempted to taste it."

"Don't waste your potential here," he added.

Her legs wobbled and her heart plummeted to her intestines like a rock, but Caroline couldn't move. She couldn't find air for her lungs as she gaped down at her tingling fingers. Lips cracked and dry, her tongue scraped—raked the roof of her mouth in search of retaliatory words that wouldn't come. They wouldn't come.

"Come with me, Caroline," he whispered one final time.

What had he done, what had he done, what had he done.

Anger and betrayal and disbelief exploded down—across her in rivets, those strange itchy thorns swelling to maturity again in her finger-bones. They were nothing but a blade arsenal waiting to be unsheathed…growling with hunger and bitterness and vengeance…thirsting to pierce and protect…hissing with poison, poison, poison. Away, away—they threatened to sweep Caroline away into a vortex of doom and decay.

Power. Emotion.

They'd converged and multiplied throughout the human cells beneath her skin, that tick-tick-ticking dynamite sparking and sizzling in nerves just waiting for the ignition of that lighted match, horror and exhilaration coating the back of the throat, that sweet-sour taste of nectar intoxicating enough for her to drown, drown, drown. Unstable, unpredictable, power and emotion engulfed her in thick crackling gasoline flames.

—Butterfly Rage and Euphoria raced. They accelerated forward with lightspeed wings that flapped and fluttered and pounded hard, tense heartbeats across the rippling confusion of Caroline's mind. Doubt and Certainty fenced with swords drenched in bloody sweat and dirty tears, trampling her clear and open thoughts with muck from a deer's fleeing hooves. Fear wrestled with Bravado and smashed Fury's face flat into the earth until teeth ground with the gritty taste of gravel. Acceptance. Appreciation. They rocked back-and-forth on heels, thumbs twiddling and eyes peeled to procure an open path by which to pass. But none of the internal conflict mattered when Surprise knocked her backwards. Flat on her ass.

What had he done, what had he done, what had he done.

All Caroline saw was an inescapable abyss.

All Caroline smelled was fire and ash and dread.

All Caroline heard was noise. Lightning. Thunder. Meteorites. Asteroids. Comets. Muffled screams of the living and dead.

All Caroline tasted was fizzing wine swirling flat. Soaking her soul in colors of red, red, red.

All Caroline felt was a knotted rope attached at her navel. How its slack coiled around and around her legs, wrists, heart, and head and laced her up in the ultraviolet shimmering of stardust and milky way. Painting her spirit into galaxy-streaks with colliding planets that enjoy to fight more than play.

The sky eclipsed as the full moon reached its apex and bubbled her in the scent of golden, glittering bread, raining loaves of color into a crown that swirled loosely and freely around her head. Darkness cracked like an egg over her, dripping down—sweeping out and swinging in—freezing her lovely face into youthful stone and solidifying the rest of her graceful, vibrant body into ageless stone, crystallizing all of that lethality into pockets of her tissue now fully grown.

In the time it took her eyelashes to blink from end to end, the evolution of Caroline Forbes had initiated, invaded, and spread. The universe now no longer marked her as a green-thumbed mortal, but as a flower-weapon of spring not just alive…

…but immortal. Undead.

"When darkness falls and eyes stay shut

A chain of voices opens up.

Let wax not wane give birth to death."

—Yvonne Woon

A/N: A quick fluffy-to-angsty turnaround in Caroline's treatment and reaction to Klaus, right? (Especially compared to Klaroline's interaction in chapter one). But the mystery behind the drastic change WILL be unraveled in the chapters ahead. ;)

I'm not particularly sure if I'm satisfied with this chapter, so let me know what you think. Feedback rocks. Until next time, thanks for reading!

xx