The Greyhound bus rumbled to a stop just outside a town sign that read:
Welcome to Mystic Falls — A Community with History.
Population: Too damn small, Malik thought.
He stepped off the bus with one duffel bag slung over his shoulder and earbuds hanging loose around his neck. A cool September breeze slipped through the trees, carrying something that felt… old. Heavy. Like the town itself had secrets it was too polite to say out loud.
"Great. Creepy trees, old brick buildings, and a sign that looks like a horror movie intro. Exactly the fresh start I didn't ask for," Malik muttered, smirking to himself as he took it all in.
He'd been here less than five minutes and already stuck out.
Tall, dark-skinned, 6'3" with a fade sharp enough to slice egos, Malik was charisma in motion — smooth voice, easy smile, and the kind of energy that made people want to know him without knowing why. He was the guy who made strangers laugh in checkout lines and had high school teachers saying "You ever think about acting?"
But under all that charm, there were cracks.
He'd left Atlanta not because of a job, or school, or some grand opportunity — but because home stopped feeling like home a long time ago.
His mom was a warrior. Two jobs, no excuses. She gave him everything she had and still saved something extra to love him with. His dad? A ghost with a name he never got. Malik learned early how to laugh through pain and talk his way out of silence.
People always said he had "a spark."
He wasn't so sure. All he knew was something had been tugging at his chest for months — dreams of ancient trees, blood-soaked roots, and whispers calling his name like it belonged to someone else. Like he was meant for something else.
Then one night, he saw Mystic Falls on an old map and just… left.
No plan. No clue. Just a gut feeling.
Now he was here.
Day one. New town. New air. New Malik?
He walked past the Mystic Grill, giving a nod to a couple teenagers who stared a second too long. A girl with brown eyes and a leather jacket tilted her head at him like she sensed something off. He winked. She rolled her eyes and walked faster.
"Still got it," he said under his breath, chuckling.
He didn't know that this town had its own heartbeat — a slow, ancient thump buried under layers of secrets and blood.
He didn't know vampires were real.
Witches. Hybrids. Curses.
He didn't know that in a few months, he wouldn't just be part of this world — he'd become something it hadn't seen in over a thousand years.
Not a vampire.
Not a hybrid.
Not even a Mikaelson.
Something entirely new.
The Original… that nobody saw coming.