The ArrivalMalik stepped off the train into a city smothered in warm air, musk, and old magic. New Orleans breathed differently than Mystic Falls. It pulsed. The smell of sweat and spice, alcohol and blood—it was overwhelming.
But it wasn't just the city.
He was changing.
His skin tingled under the gaslight. His hearing was too sharp. Footsteps in alleys made his eyes twitch. Every heartbeat, every shift in energy, called out to him. He could feel power in the brick streets and broken windows, in the whispers behind closed doors.
Emily's magic lessons had taught him to listen to the world.
Now, he couldn't shut it up.
The French QuarterHe wandered through the narrow alleys, past gas-lit balconies and open windows. Music played somewhere — low and rough, like someone trying to forget a memory.
A drunk man shoved past him, cursing under his breath.
Malik didn't move.
The man turned back. "What, you deaf, boy?"
Malik looked at him. Calm. Unbothered.
He didn't say a word.
The man stepped forward, raising a hand—
—and instantly dropped to the ground, unconscious, his body convulsing with a faint shimmer of blue light.
Malik exhaled. His siphoner instincts had flared up. Uncontrolled.
He knelt beside the man. "Sorry."
The CompoundA rooftop view watched everything.
Klaus Mikaelson leaned against the balcony rail, a glass of bourbon in hand, eyes locked on the boy below.
He'd felt it. That pull. That ripple in the air like someone had just stolen magic from the wind.
"I felt it too," Elijah said, appearing behind him.
"He's not human," Klaus said. "But he's not just vampire either."
"You think he's one of ours?"
Klaus shook his head. "No. He's something new."
Elijah's voice was thoughtful. "He's barely turned. That kind of power, that control—"
"Not control," Klaus corrected. "Instinct."
Then he smiled.
"I want him brought to me."
Back Alley TroubleMalik ducked into a quieter street, still breathing heavily.
He could feel the buzz in his fingertips. He hadn't meant to knock that man out. He hadn't even touched him. He'd simply reacted. Drew in the wild ambient magic that clung to New Orleans like fog, and turned it loose.
Footsteps.
Too many.
Three men stepped out of the shadows. Vampires. Hungry ones.
"You're new," the tallest said. "Smell like blood and fear."
"I'm not in the mood," Malik muttered.
"Then you're in the wrong city."
They charged.
Malik moved fast. Not fast enough to match Originals or even well-fed elders, but faster than most new vamps had any right to be. He ducked under the first one's swing, drove his elbow into the second's gut, then spun with surprising precision to slam the third into a wall.
But it wasn't graceful. It was raw. Sloppy in parts.
The first one grabbed him from behind—until Malik gritted his teeth and pulled. Not with muscle. With magic.
The vampire screamed as the ambient energy in his blood was ripped out, leaving him gasping and weak.
"What are you?" the last one muttered.
Malik's eyes flickered violet-black for a second.
"I'm learning."
He walked away before they got up.
The Mikaelsons' Compound – LaterA knock echoed through the great hall.
"You brought him?" Klaus asked, sipping his drink.
"He came willingly," Rebekah said, opening the door.
Malik entered slowly, gaze sweeping the room. Elegant. Ancient. Dangerous.
He recognized the power in the air immediately. These weren't just vampires.
They were history.
Klaus stood, smiling.
"I've heard whispers about you," he said. "A new face with strange tricks. Tell me—what brings a freshly turned creature like yourself to my city?"
Malik didn't flinch. "I'm not here to challenge anyone."
"Good," Klaus said, stepping closer. "Because I don't like being challenged."
"But," Elijah added gently, "you are different."
"I'm a siphoner," Malik said.
The silence in the room thickened.
"That bloodline's long gone," Elijah said.
"Not gone," Malik replied. "Just hidden. Emily Bennett hid me well."
Klaus tilted his head. "You're her son?"
"By blood."
Rebekah blinked. "She was powerful."
"She raised me," Malik said, voice low. "Taught me magic. Taught me restraint."
Klaus studied him for a long moment.
"And did she teach you loyalty?"
Malik's gaze met his. "Only to those who earn it."
The smile that spread across Klaus's face was wide and sharp. "I think we'll get along just fine."
Later – The BalconyMalik stood overlooking the Quarter with a fresh shirt and a healing gash across his cheek. His fight had left bruises, and the siphoning still left him shaky. But he was upright. Alert. Watching.
Klaus joined him with two glasses.
"I turned Marcel years ago," he said casually. "He was like you. Bold. Curious. Always pushing."
Malik didn't answer.
"I gave him purpose," Klaus said. "A home."
"And if he turns on you?" Malik asked.
"I don't think he will."
"I'm not him."
"No," Klaus said, sipping. "But you could be greater."
Malik stared into the night.
"I don't know what I want yet," he admitted. "But I know I don't want to be a monster."
Klaus chuckled. "You'll change your mind about that."
Malik looked at him. "No. But I might become one to protect the people I care about."
That answer seemed to please Klaus.
"You'll stay at the compound," he said. "Train. Feed. Learn what you are."
"I'm not your pet."
Klaus smiled darkly. "Of course not. You're family."