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Klaus didn't turn. "Marcel doesn't just want a seat at the table anymore, sister. He wants to burn the table to the ground."

He remembered the boy he used to be, the one Klaus had saved and raised as a son. But that boy was dead, buried under centuries of being treated like a second-class citizen in his own home.

Across town, Marcel stood at the edge of the Mississippi River. In his hand, he held the serum—the dark alchemy that would transform him into something even the Original vampires would fear. He looked at the city he had built, the city the Mikaelsons had reclaimed, and the city that was now about to bleed.

He downed the serum. As the power surged through his veins, the sky over New Orleans turned a bruised purple. The ground trembled. Back at the compound, Elijah felt it first—a shift in the world’s balance. "It’s done," Elijah said, joining Klaus.