Disclaimer:

I do not own The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, or Legacies. If I did, the show would have gone a lot differently, and you wouldn't be reading this because I promise you I wouldn't be writing Fanfiction. The shows would also be a lot different. They are owned by the CW, and Julie Plec. Nor do I own the book series the very first show in this verse was based on. It belongs to L.J. Smith and Hodder Children's Books. I am merely a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.

Paris Hotel de Ville

"Rebekah, tell me how handsome I am."

"Oh Kol, you know I can't be compelled."

Elijah supposed this was better than the constant arguing. Kol and Rebekah had been at each other's throats for the better part of a week. He had hoped that leaving Niklaus in Mystic Falls would have a positive effect on them all. While it certainly had, it seems that it did not have the desired effect on helping their strained relationship.

Kol was still bitter. Still angry. The last time he had been awake without a dagger in his heart Rebekah betrayed him to Niklaus and Marcel. Made all the deeper by Niklaus choosing Marcel over him. Even the knowledge of Marcel's demise at the hands of father seemed to do little to quell his rage.

"Where is Finn?" He asked, deciding on a safer subject. Since Elijah had returned he hadn't seen hide nor hair of his elder brother.

"He said he couldn't stand the bickering," Rebekah said to him, staring at her fingernails. They were painted redder than blood. "He wanted some fresh air. Last night. He hasn't returned since. I imagine after being daggered in a box so long he's quite peckish."

Elijah shook his head. "No. That doesn't sound like Finn." He had always despised what they were. Finn feed because he had to. That usually involved one of them taking him to do it, or else waiting until he was on the thresh hold of desiccation.

"Perhaps our dear brother has finally learned the joy of just letting go and having a bite to eat? Could you blame him after being daggered in a box for so long? Perhaps he is drinking a nice, tall blonde?" Kol suggested.

Elijah shook his head. "He wouldn't have noticed the time passing. The daggers would make sure of that."

"Speaking of daggers," Rebekah butted in. "Where are they? Surely you didn't leave them with Nik?"

"Not by choice," he told her. "I had made arrangements to hide them, but Niklaus moved to secure them before I could."

"Great. So you left the daggers in the hands of our homicidal brother. The one who has sworn to hunt us all down and put us in boxes for who knows how long," Kol sneered, turning away from the mirror. "Brilliant, brother. How long until he follows through with that threat?"

Elijah raised his eyebrow. "Do you believe you could have taken them away from him?"

Kol stared at him without providing an answer. He knew as well as the rest of them of their brother's temper. How trying to take those daggers would have meant being daggered and put back in a box.

"We'll need a way to defend ourselves," Kol finally said, turning back to his reflection.

"Wasn't that what mother's coffin was for? It seems to have vanished," Rebekah reminded them. "I still think it was the Salvatore brothers who did something with it. If you had let me kill the damsel-in-distress Elena-"

He raised a hand to silence her. "Elena Gilbert is an innocent, Rebekah."

His sister snorted. "Innocent? Hardly. She'd backstab the lot of use if given the chance. With a white oak stake."

"There is no more white oak," he reminded her. "In any event, we have no weapon to defend against Niklaus."

"That brother is where you are wrong," Kol pipped up. "I actually have something for that. We just need to find it-"

The door to their penthouse opened. Elijah turned to catch sight of Finn. Gone was the twelfth center attire of a nobleman, replaced by a black leather jack, blue jeans, and a white shirt.

"I'm glad you have returned," Elijah told him honestly. He didn't like them being separated. Call him paranoid, but there was a chance that Niklaus might follow through with his threat. If they were together, they could protect each other.

"Oh yes, because we don't have enough men crawling around here," Rebekah snorted.

"Just like you, 'Beka," Kol snapped back.

"Do you two ever stop?" Finn interjected. Elijah sighed. That was the best way to keep them at it.

"Finn, ever the dullard," Kol said, rounding on their elder brother. "That's why Nik left you rotting, wasn't it? I forget, Rebekah, how long was Finn in the box for?"

His sister's smile was full of venom. "Nine hundred years. Give or take."

"Alright, that's enough," Elijah called when he saw Finn's hand clench into fists. A fight between original vampires never ended well. "Welcome back, Finn. Where did you go?"

"To feed," his brother answered, a look of disgust crossing his face.

"See, Elijah? Didn't I tell you?"

"Oh, be silent, Kol," Finn snapped. "I compelled her to forget about it. The vagrant, on the other hand, was not so lucky."

"You actually killed a human?" Rebekah asked, sounding shocked. Elijah understood that shock. Finn took special care to not kill those he feeds off, instead compelling them to forget what had happened.

"It was not intentional. I didn't realize how hungry I was. I lost control of myself," Finn admitted reluctantly. Elijah could see how disgusted with himself he was. They'd have to work on that. Finn was a vampire, and he needed human blood to survive. "I was able to learn about this modern world from him. The English language."

Elijah wasn't surprised. It was a trick they had learned when they tried to blend into the society around them. If they killed a human victim by feeding on them, they could learn from that person's experience. How to speak a language. How a modern society worked. It seemed that in Finn's loss of control he had done just that.

"Kol, what do you mean by a weapon?" Elijah directed the conversation away from both topics. It would stop Finn, Kol, and Rebekah from getting at each other's throats, while hopefully focusing on a way to protect themselves.

"Well brother, back in 1912, I was working on something before Rebekah sold me out to Nik." Kol shot her a glare, which she smirked at. "A way to give Nik a taste of his own medicine."

"What do you mean?"

"Being daggered is excruciating, Elijah. The four of us know that better than anyone else. I think it's only fair that we subject Nik to the same treatment."

"The daggers will not work on him."

Kol nodded. "Yes. They're silver, and that pesky werewolf side protects him. What if they weren't silver, Elijah? What if a dagger was gold. If we shoved that dagger in Nik's heart."

"Are you saying you have a gold dagger?"

"I do. The only problem is getting it."

New Orleans

Sean stared at his uncle's church, the place where he might have become a priest if his life had taken a different turn. It had been almost two years since he had found the mark on his hand here. Two years since he fled the city after he killed his first vampire.

Since then he had killed more vampires than he could remember. Until recently, his mark now extended up his arm where it had once been only on the back of his hand. However, just days ago the mark completed itself, becoming cold against his skin. He had gone to the small island near Nova Scotia and discovered the truth.

It had been a mistake coming back to New Orleans. The peace in the city was fragile, and his supernatural compulsion to kill vampires nearly caused him to stake two of Marcel's daywalkers. Something that could easily ignite a war between the vampire community and the human faction. He had resisted, but only barely. Never before had he practiced control like that. It had been a mistake returning home, but he had nowhere else to go. For the moment, he needed sanctuary. Time to get his thoughts together.

Uncle Kieran was at the altar, hands clasped together in prayer. He didn't flinch or move at the sound of the door opening. Nor when it closed. Not wanting to disturb him, Sean walked silently up the aisle, staring at the figure of Christ on the cross.

There had been a time where he believed in God. He believed that there was some higher purpose dictated to everyone by an omnipotent power that could see everything. The last two years of his life had firmly cast him against that belief. He had seen too much to believe that a just God would allow vampires to exist. If there was a God out there, he was laughing.

Kieran opened his eyes and released his hand. His uncle looked at him, an expression of shock crossing his face. "Sean?"

"Hello, uncle Kieran," he greeted his second favorite family member. "It's not Sunday. What are you doing at church? Or are you preparing to meet with the leaders of the faction?"

Sean never did understand why a holy man who truly believed in the will of God allowed the faction to meet in his church.

Kieran shook his head. "I'm asking for guidance."

Sean waited for him to continue. If his uncle was asking for guidance, something was affecting him. When his uncle said no more, Sean let it go. He had his own problems to deal with.

"What about you? Why are you here in this church? Looking for me?"

That wasn't the case. As much as he loved his uncle, Kieran was too embroiled in the supernatural politics of this city to look beyond them. Sean had tried to convince him that the only way New Orleans would ever be free was when the vampires were exterminated, but his uncle had no desire to begin a war. Sean thought of framing it as a crusade but decided that it would only invoke his uncle's anger.

"I need guidance," Sean finally admitted. Instinctively, his hand moved to the invisible tattoo crossing his arm. His mark radiated a cold chill out towards the rest of his body. It was telling him he needed to move. He needed to hunt his prey.

Warehouse in New Jersey

Silas stared at the love of his life, trapped within her stone body. He knew Qetsiyah was a vengeful woman, but he never thought she would go this far. After she had shown him the cure, Silas believed she shoved it down Amara's throat and killed her. Instead, she turned Amara to stone and made her the anchor.

The more cold, calculating part of himself admired the brutality and efficiency of what she had done. Amara, as a true immortal, couldn't be destroyed. The anchor was safe, allowing the Other Side to forever exist. At the same time, Amara would be forced to endure it for eternity.

Silas closed his eyes and focused his mind on the statue in front of him. For a moment he felt Amara's mind, making contact with her. He could feel the pain of two thousand years of thirst, unlike his own she hadn't had a drop of blood. Then there was feeling the pain of two thousand years worth of deceased supernatural beginnings. Everyone one of them who died passed through her to get to the purgatory Qetsiyah created. Amara wanted nothing more than to die.

Silas cursed himself. He had been buried with the cure, but that blasted hunter had taken it with him to a watery grave. Despite all his powers, he couldn't search the entirety of the ocean floor. It was simply too vast. Now that the cure was gone, he and Amara were condemned to forever walk the Earth.

He considered freeing Amara, but in the end he decided to leave her as stone. If she was freed, she'd do anything to end her suffering, which just wasn't possible. Not in the conventional way. Silas was just as clever in magic as the witch Qetsiyah, and he had a workaround for himself and his love. While it was feasible, getting what he needed for the spell would be time-consuming. Then finding a witch powerful enough to cast it would also be a factor. It would take time. Better to leave Amara where she couldn't get herself into trouble.

Before he could begin to find what he needed, Silas decided that he'd remove Amara from being the anchor. She didn't deserve to suffer because of what he had done to Qetsiyah. He'd free her from the continuous pain of being the anchor.

"Take this statue to the locations I mentioned before," Silas ordered the mover and his team. All of them were under his physic domination and would follow his orders without question. "You'll leave it there and forget what I've had you do."

He turned away from then, to the magicless witch. Josette Laughlin had been quite the catch. What he had managed to learn from her would help him get his revenge. "Show me it," he ordered her softly.

The magicless witch reached into her coat and pulled out the ascendant. The key to a so-called prison world. Perfect. Silas had no doubt Qetsiyah was on the other side waiting for me. Now that he was free, he'd be willing to bet that she was watching him wherever he went. Following him like a ghost.

That suited him just fine. Silas was going to destroy the other side, and free all those spirits from purgatory. One spirit, though, would not get that freedom. Qetsiyah had condemned himself and his lover to an immortal life of pain as punishment. The punishment he would give her would deny her the peace that he and Amara would soon achieve.

Any other spirit caught in Mystic Falls when he found a witch to perform the spell would be caught up in her punishment, and he almost regretted that. Silas would prefer no one else be caught up in that punishment, but he wasn't going to stop. Qetsiyah would suffer for what she did. Any innocents were collateral damage.

Mayfield, Louisiana

"Are you sure that body is strong enough?" Genevieve asked.

"Positive," Esther Mikaelson replied. "Once I have created the Ethereal Plan, I will become even stronger."

"Yes, you can say that word, but you haven't explained what it is," Genevieve said patiently.

"It is similar to the plane your ancestors survive on," Esther replied. "They even kind enough to give me the spell they used to create that plane. It is similar, taking the basic premise, but altering it. In a way, you could describe it as a combination between the Other Side and Ancestral Plane, with a personal alteration of my own. While they are similar, as a French Quarter witch, you are familiar with the difference between the two... There. The spell is already taking effect, twisting into the Earth itself."

Esther was right. Genevieve could feel her magic surging through the Earth. Whatever spell she was creating, it was massive.

"So how exactly is this... Ethereal Plane different from the other two?" Genevieve inquired.

"It will create a space around this community. This space will be similar to the purgatory both other planes exist on. However, while the dead can exist as ghosts, they will be able to take on corporal form. They can choose at will to become solid, or to return to the ghostly form."

"So within the Ethereal Plane, that covers this town, they'll be able to exist as ghosts. Ghosts that can take on solid form, and shift between them at will," Genevieve repeated, just to make sure she had it right.

"Yes."

"So supernatural beings who-"

"Not just supernatural beings," Esther cut in. "Humans can exist on it as well. When a human or a supernatural being dies, their soul lingers in the world for roughly a day. During that time, if they are consecrated within the Ethereal Plane, they will awaken within it as a ghost. One's that can become solid at will."

"Is it like the Other Side? Can they go anyway in the world?" Genevieve asked.

Esther shook her head. "No. They are confined within the borders of the Ethereal Plane. If they were to leave, either ghostly or corporal, their soul would be ejected from the living world, to wherever it is souls go."

"What happens when they become corporal? Will a witch still be able to use magic?"

Esther nodded. "A witch in the corporal form will have access to their magic. A werewolf in corporal will change on the full moon. Vampires will be vampiric. They will retain all of their supernatural abilities."

"What happens if they die solid?"

"Then they return to their ghost form. In which case they can become solid again. As long as the plane is not destroyed, and they do not leave the boundaries, they cannot truly die a second time."

"What will you do once it's complete?"

"I will consecrate my body here. Right now I am on borrowed time," Esther explained. "After I am buried, I will bury the ashes of my husband Mikael here as well. From there I will be able to truly resurrect him. If he dies again, my husband's buried ashes will bring him here."

Before she could continue the sound of a car broke through the night. Headlights illuminated the world around them as the car pulled to a stop.

"Ah. He made it. Our guest."

The ring created an alter ego of Alaric Saltzman stepped out of the car.

Author's Note:

I hope you have enjoyed the first chapter of Legacy of a Wish!

Before I go on, I want to address OC's. I don't really care for them. I know people like them, but when I read fanfiction, I"m reading it for the canon characters. Combining all the characters from The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, and Legacies, that leave me a lot of characters to use.

If I'm forced to use an OC, it will be only the minorest of roles, with a single sole exception. Otherwise, I'll go and find the minorest of canon characters to use. In that vein, I will be using characters from the books. L.J. Smith's books, Stefan's Diaries books, or the Original's book series. Since most of these characters wouldn't be canon to the Vampire Diaries TV-verse, I don't mind changing their backgrounds and history to fit in with my needs. At the end of each chapter, in my author's note, I'll post about any vague canons I've chosen to use.

Mayfield is a fictional small town of my own design, in the same vein as Mystic Falls or Grove Hill. It's a little ways outside of New Orleans.

This fic is the continuation of another fic I posted called Wish. It details a lot of changes in this AU and how they have come to be. While it's not essential to read it, it will give you a better understanding of this fic. This fic also takes place before Hope is born, making it something of a sequel.

This story will be divided into parts. Part one will co sider of five or six chapters.