A/N: I'm still here, and not going anywhere, promise! The way you all jumped to my defence against the negative people...: words do not begin express enough how touched I was! The KC fandom is a family, and you guys stood up for me when I needed it; that's the fandom I joined. I think I got back to everyone, but for those that I couldn't [e.g. guests] – thank you so much to you all for your lovely messages & support, they really did help me through one of the toughest weeks of my life.

Your incredible support is why I'm here; this story has been – and always will be – for you. So enjoy this, you're in good hands – KC are endgame (remember that, no matter what!). Please leave a review if you have the time – thoughts/theories/suggestions! Xxx

PS – a new trailer is up for Ubiquitous! Type in Klaus + Caroline - "Ubiquitous" [Fanfiction Trailer] xx

32. Key

"Sometimes the questions are complicated, and the answers are simple."
– Dr Seuss

One Week Later

I haven't journaled in three-hundred years. But she has relieved me; which she scarcely does. My mind is not my own – but there are rare instances where my conscience overrides. I need to get it down – someone needs to find this. Someone out of her influence; for who knows how long this will carry on? Someone needs to stop her. Her. Isis. What havoc she has wrecked in her short week of rebirth. The world now knows about all supernaturals. The daemon went to the press, authorities – made it public not only to the nation, but the world: she has made it clear that the mortals are now at the behest of the supernaturals – who now answer to her. From under every rock, creatures have emerged. Normally, I'd be furiously vexed about such a phenomenon – but it is in the least of my concerns. Because every moment Isis inhibits her body, Caroline's soul remains trapped God-knows-where. She hasn't broken through Isis' conscience, so I am thus led to believe Isis has performed some form of spell to remove Caroline's spirit entirely. The spell my brother originally intended cannot be carried out; Isis herself invented the spell that sends souls to and from realms; she, the 'almighty'. The all-powerful. But no matter how great her strength may be, there has got to be a weakness. An Achilles Heel; nature could not allow such an imbalance; all magic comes with a price – Isis' existence cannot be so without something to destroy her.

Klaus' pen paused on its paper, when the newly familiar, sickening pull tugged on him. Closing his eyes, sighing, he set down the biro – took up his journal, wedged it between the old volumes housed in the library, and made his way downstairs. She sat in the front living room, dressed in a white pencil suit, legs crossed – studying something. A manuscript of some sort. New; recently bound. Another agreement? Another treaty?

The government had quickly – and rightly – feared her. And so they should; who didn't?

Although Klaus specifically didn't fear her, but, rather, what she'd done to Caroline. If the daemon had invented banishment spells that transcended realms, what of the unthinkable could she have done to her rival doppelgänger?

And for that, he hated her with every cell in his body.

He entered the room. "What do you want?"

"None of that tone, please," Isis boredly responded, flipping a page, brows knotting. "Such tedious customs," she said of the paragraphs her eyes grazed over. "It's a wonder this world is in one piece."

"It never was to begin with," Klaus answered.

"And you'd know, pet; a thousand years old, aren't you?"

"I am not your pet."

"You are whatever I want you to be," she immediately fired back.

Klaus' mouth and throat was dry, but he couldn't swallow to moisten it. He felt the tingling of rage racing to his fingertips. I'll never love you, he thought – barely settling himself with silent declarations. Because no matter what influence you think you have on me, it will never be enough to shake me of her. She is the one thing keeping me.

"What did you want me for?" He called, jaw stiffening.

She suddenly raised a hand, a grey wisp of smoke curling around her hand. When it subsided, Klaus' journal was in her clasp.

He went to step forward to take it from her – but should have known better; she dropped the manuscript, and flicked her wrist. He stilled against his will.

"No more of this, either," Isis sighed. "I don't even know why you bother, darling; she's gone. Give in; things would be a lot easier if you did."

"I don't believe you."

"Don't you? You should." Isis set down the book, and stood, strolling to him. She took his face in her hands, thumb playing over his lip. "Because I know where I sent her; and I know you're never going to get her back from it. Nothing comes back from there, ever."

"And where is there?"


She could have convinced anyone else.

But he knew better; regardless of when or how Caroline had ever faulted in her eighteen years, she was still full of her blinding, all-consuming light. The darkest dimension couldn't hold her; she wasn't pure, but she was good. Strong: no demonic prison could hold her.

"And you still don't believe me!" Isis almost laughed, incredulous. "I can feel it; your denial–"

"It's not denial; it's faith."

"Listen to you; how sick you are; what's happened to the great Niklaus Mikaelson–"

"How sick I am? Look how many lives you've ruined in a mad scramble to relive a second chance you were never supposed to have."

"Never supposed to have? Look at me; the body of you 'love'. My doppelgänger. Look at yourself; the doppelgänger of my love. You exist because of me; I'd say I was always supposed to have this." She turned away, taking up the manuscript in her hands once more. "Now, onto more precedent matters;you and I have a council meeting with important political leaders – let's not be late; first impressions, and all. We want to be exceptional, respected monarchs – yes?"

Klaus had no choice but to fall in step.

Once, he had wanted it; a kingdom – power.

But not like this.

Never like this.

And certainly not without her.


"Well you're absolutely no fun."

Caroline rolled her head to the side slowly, eyes fixating on her purgatory cellmate. "Try having a psychotic ghost ruin your life and separate your from you family and the man you love; then we'll talk about fun." She sighed, trying to move her stiff wrists in her manacles. "But I've just got to get over it, right?"

For the first time in the week they'd spent together – and in the encounters beforehand, Tatia was serious. "You'll never get over it," she whispered. "It will haunt you forever."

Caroline swallowed hard, tears pricking her eyes. "I can't even see them. I can't even see him. I thought ghosts were supposed to be able to roam free."

"But you're not a ghost," Tatia reminded her. "And neither am I; a spirit. A wavering soul; it's different for us – we're not dead, really. Not quite dead at all. So we're stuck. Stuck here. Stuck, stuck – and it's all her fault. You'll never get out; I haven't in a thousand years. No, no miss. No escaping. No second chances. Must hold down the fort. The fort must be secure. Secure. Here, secure. Secured I am. So secure..." And she was mad again.

Caroline closed her eyes, willing herself to return to her memories; to lose herself in reminiscence; it was all she had left.

God knows how long before she wound up like that.


Stefan Salvatore let his head fall back against the car. How many hours had they been on the road? How many kilometres had he put between himself and Elena Gilbert for the last time? He should have felt guilty. Leaving them; but he hadn't. Silas had disappeared the week before – telling Bonnie that he would return in six months time.

Because Katherine – 'The Cure' – was pregnant.

That had been information hard to swallow. Hell, to digest.

With the threat of Silas no longer imminent (at least, for six months) Bonnie had made it clear her first priority was been getting back to New Orleans; after seeing Isis on national broadcast, there was no question about returning. They'd been unable to get on to Klaus, any of his siblings, or Marcel. Stefan, momentarily relieved of any duty or obligation (namely, Elena) – and wracked with concern for his best friend, had unhesitatingly signed on (Lexi following hadn't even been a question).

The Bennett witch had ventured down the abandoned street of the little township in search of another general store, in case the roadhouse they'd stopped at proved unsuccessful. From what they'd last heard, Isis had managed to lock down the whole city – with the Quarter renovated as its centre; getting into it without getting caught was going to be almost impossible; hence asking small-town businesses that knew the area for a secluded way in.

But secondly – once they were in there, they needed someone they could trust. Bonnie had been assigned to contacting Klaus' protege – the former king of the Quarter.

"Unbelievable!" Lexi strode towards him, blonde hair flapping out behind her with each angry step. "They refused to even serve me; locked the door right in front of me – and you know what? When grabbed the handle, it burned me. Vervain! Seriously? Already?"

"They're scared, Lex; and they have every right to be," the Salvatore sighed. "Their world has just been torn apart. They don't know who to trust; not even the best of us. There's a lot of supernaturals that have waited for the day when they'd no longer have to suppress and conceal themselves: there are a lot of loose cannons out there; these are dangerous times."

"So what, we're gonna be segregated now? Them and us?"

"Hasn't is always been that way?"

"Not consciously, no." Lexi took up the spot beside him, leaning back against the vehicle also. "I just have a feeling life is going to be very difficult from now on; look at it already; us, paranoid that this crazy witch had infiltrated the government; trying to find out any back roads into the Quarter! I can see it now; tanks and armies at the gates of the Quarter–"

"Alexia Branson," Stefan sighed, shaking his head. "It's hardly as melodramatic as that."

"You saw the news!"

"Yes, but–"


Both vampires looked to an approaching Bonnie, who waved a bag of chips, and a map. "I got dinner – andI got directions for a back 'road' into the Quarter; which you're not going to like. But they let me use their phone," she called.

Stefan pushed off the car. All the brownie points for Bonnie today. "And?"

"I got on to him; only took me about fifteen tries."

"Marcel?" Lexi supposed.

Bonnie nodded – but her brows then furrowed.

"And what did he say?"

"Nothing; he was barely on the phone for ten seconds," Bonnie answered slowly, bewildered. "But he did give me something; three letters; C,O,D – and a date: 1788. Then he hung up."

"Cryptic," Lexi answered dryly. "Fantastic. Why couldn't it've just been name or place?"

Stefan's eyes lit up. "Maybe that's exactly what he did."

"Do elaborate," Lexi responded.

Bonnie's track of mind had quickly followed Stefan's, and she mused with a furrowed brow, "Initials. C, O and D: they're initials." She gaped, eyes widening. "It is a person. A person, and a place." She face-palmed. "Why didn't I think of it first?"

Both Stefan and Lexi awaited expansion.

"When I was in New Orléans last week, we went to this bar – at it, the bartender that served us was called Camille. A human, but she sort of had a thing going on with Marcel." Bonnie continued to recall, "The bar was really old too – it had been established around the time Klaus and his family first moved there in the eighteenth century. That's gotta be the date he gave me."

"So we find the bar established then – we find the bartender; we find help," Stefan summarised.

Lexi was already moving towards the driver's side. "Great work Nancy and Indiana. Let's go."


"Stay away from the windows."

Davina let go of the curtain, letting it fall back into its place, concealing the night from her view. Turning to face Sophie, she raised an eyebrow. "What are they going to do – bomb us?"

"Isis has infiltrated the human council; she knows which ones of us are witches, and which aren't. She knows us both; it would be right to assume, in order to protect herself – she'd want to eliminate any threats." Sophie reached for her glass of water, weak fingers fumbling.

Unable to stand by, Davina moved forward and took the cup in her hands, bringing it to the witch's lips. "Since when do you care about me?"

Sophie swallowed a mouthful, and when her gaze caught Davina's, it was heavy, and full of regret and apology. "None of you were ever meant to die. I never believed in the Harvest; I only wanted my family back. At the time, what that would take didn't matter."

Davina closed her eyes, kneeling and resting her backside on her heels. "So, collateral damage; that's all I was–"

"It wasn't personal–"

"–just like Caroline," Davina finished in a hard tone, as if the Devereaux hadn't interrupted.

Sophie visibly stilled, face pinching.

"She was a good person; she didn't deserve this–"

"Was? She still is."

"You don't believe Isis destroyed her soul?"

"I know she didn't; if she had, I wouldn't still be here. If Isis had sent her to another 'realm', I wouldn't be here."

The water in the glass began to tremble. Davina's hands shook. "Have you been in contact with her? Do you know where she is?"

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. "I see it sometimes; flashes; but they never last for long – they're excruciating. It's not clear enough."

Davina set down the glass, and gripped the witch's limp arm. "But you could. You could find out. I know that Isis was in control of Caroline travelling between dimensions – but that was made possible because she was linked to you; half her soul was technically on the Other Side anyway, so Isis kept pulling."

"But why aren't I going between planes if Caroline's trapped on The Other Side, for instance?"

"Isis is in charge of the dimensions and all supernaturals; if Caroline was on The Other Side, it was because she wanted her there." Davina's grip tightened. "But Caroline's a daemon too; and powerful; if we push when she's pulling – we could make contact with her, and find out where she is." The young witch stood. "And if we know where she is, we can find a way to get her home. There's a spell for just about everything."

"But how do we get Caroline to pull?"

Keys rustled in the front door, and both witches jumped.

Moments later, Cami's flushed, friendly face peered through the crevice. She let herself in, arms laden with plastic grocery bags. Setting them down in the kitchen, she rejoined the living room, placing her hands on her hips.

"How are you feeling?"

Sophie managed a grimace – but didn't answer, instead asking, "Did my sister...?"

"No; didn't say anything to me, really. Just that if I happened to see you, let her know–"


Cami pressed her lips together. "Why here?" She wondered after a long moment.

"Sorry?" Sophie croaked.

Davina reached for the glass of water again.

"Why did you come to me?" Cami asked. "My uncle is on the council; I could turn you in at any moment..."

Sophie took the sip of water that was offered to her. "But you won't," she responded. "And we're here, because you are one of the few people I trust. You're a good person. And nowadays, they're hard to come by." She paused – almost as if for effect. "You won't betray us."

Cami bit her lip, and nodded: a silent promise.

Sophie then directed her gaze to Davina, determination settling in as she resumed their conversation. "How do we get Caroline to pull?"

But Davina couldn't conjure a response – for once more, the door interrupted them.

Warily, Cami went to answer it.

A young woman, drenched from head to toe, greeted her. She recognised her; she'd seen Marcel wooing her. Seen her with the Original family. But the two others – similarly drenched – that stood behind her, she'd never seen. The man caught her gaze immediately, and didn't let go – his deep-set, forest green eyes boring into hers, reading her. There was a sort of intensity about him, an old-soul aura; a vampire, without a doubt. But more than that; a man that had seen too much, done too much, and lost too much. He infected her.

"Camille O'Donnell?" The girl asked, breaking Cami from her thoughts.

"Who's asking?" The bartender assertively responded.

"I can't say my name; or any of ours, for that matter until you let us inside. But we're friends."

"'Friends' is such a subjective word, when I don't even know if I can trust you," Cami threw back in a hard tone, chin lifting.

"You know you can; you've seen me before. You know who I'm friends with. And right now, to help them, we need help; we were told to come to you."

Cami didn't blink. "Am I to house every fugitive supernatural?"

"Please." The man spoke, voice low – calm. Rich.

Goddammit. Cami swallowed hard. "How do know I can trust you?"

The man reached into his pocket, withdrawing his wallet. Pulling out a sodden photo, he handed to her.

Cami's mouth fell open in surprise.

It was a high-school photo; he was with the girl that stood before her, a blonde-haired boy, dark-haired boy...and Katherine?

But more importantly – Caroline too.

She looked to the man with an unfathomable expression.

He lifted his chin gravely. "We're from Mystic Falls; you can trust us."

After a long moment – and exhale – Cami stepped aside, letting the three in.


"So how do we get Caroline to pull, exactly?" Stefan set down his cup of tea; it was very late into the evening now, and the past few hours or more had been spent listening to Davina and Sophie relay everything about the past year. Everything from the lead-up to Caroline's initial involvement, to the tidle-wave of events that had proceeded.

In turn, the three from Mystic Falls had briefly explained their own circumstances; up to having to swim across the Mississippi to get into the Quarter, and take every possible back street to find the O'Donnell residence.

If Cami hadn't trusted them before, she surely did after hearing that.

Presently, in response to Stefan's question, Davina bit her lip. "I don't know."

But Bonnie was a step ahead. "Like you summon any spirit," she suddenly blurted, as if the answer were obvious. Everyone waited. "A séance," she finished simply.

"A séance? Parlour tricks, really?" Sophie barely managed, coughing. "I didn't take you for an amateur."

Bonnie scoffed. "Excuse me? At least I have my own magic, and don't borrow it from my ancestors."

"Easy," Stefan chided.

Bonnie rolled her shoulders, abiding – and changed the course of conversation. "Wherever Caroline is – she's in spirit-form. Last I checked, summoning spirits is what we witches do best."

"Great. But how do we even know we can reach her? What if Isis has her trapped in that prison again?" Sophie wondered. "There was a sort of cloaking spell around that place; not even ghosts on the Other Side could breach that cell; I'd know; I'm partially responsible for a lot of the time she spent over there."

"We're quite aware," Stefan responded in a surprisingly harsh tone.

"Well if you want to know where Caroline is for sure," Davina spoke up, eyes shooting to Sophie. "Look into her head. I would myself, but my methods could kill her; and if we kill her, we kill Caroline."

Stefan stood. "I can get into her head."

Cami looked to him in surprise. "How?"

"If she falls asleep, I can look into her subconscious." He looked to the human, face lathered with assurance. "Vampire-thing."

Sophie chewed her lip, eyes guarded on Stefan.

At that moment, he blurred to her, and cupped her cheek, holding her eyes. "You are absolutely exhausted. Your eyelids are weighted like lead. You need to sleep."

Sophie's eyes fluttered closed.

Cami and Davina let out a sound of surprise.

"Remind me if I ever have kids, and they won't sleep – to come to you," the bartender mused absently.

The steady inhales and exhales of sleep soon filled the room, and Stefan knelt beside the witch, still holding her face. He closed his eyes, concentrating.


"Argh." Caroline winced, awaking with a choke – trying to reach for her throbbing temples, but finding herself once again constricted. She swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. It was happening again. Her mind felt full. Too full. That pinching feeling again; as though someone were trying to extract thoughts from her brain. It had happened occasionally since she'd been trapped on the Other Side; brief bursts of pain that gave almost as quickly as they'd started – as if the person on the other end couldn't handle the magnitude of what they were seeing or feeling.

"What's the matter?"

Caroline's head turned towards Tatia's voice, but she didn't open her eyes. "...Pain," she barely managed in an incoherent mumble. "My...head. I can't...hurts."

The air seemed to rush around her a moment, before a jolt shot through her hand, and coursed up her arm. Her eyes snapped open – focussing on the hand that brushed over hers. Caroline looked up to Tatia in alarm.

The striking, haunting beauty hovered over her.

The clicking of a lock sounded.

"What are you doing?" Caroline breathed.

The manacles snapped open.

"You've had a key this whole time?" The daemon wheezed. "Even when I was trapped before? Why not free me before? Do you work for her too?"

Tatia's eyes shot to hers. "Doesn't everyone?" She moved to the ankles.

"Why are you letting me go now?"

Tatia finished her work in silence – and when she had, stood back, and answered, "I don't have my head very often; when I do, she doesn't have it."

Caroline mouth fell open. She stood. "But...how do I get back?"

Tatia let out a manic giggle. "And you think I know? I, who has been stuck a thousand years? I?" She lost herself to unhinged laughter.

"Well you are her pet, aren't you? You ought to know something–"

"Pet! Petty little pet–"


The doppelgänger stopped, eyes wide, shifting into a lunatic craze. But she suddenly paused – as if her conscience was breaking through. "You'll be alone; she's made sure of that, for us. An abyss. I free you – but only to an empty abyss. No one can help you get back. Not here–"

"Then how–?"



"Rebekah," she snarled, backing away.

"T-thank you," Caroline whispered.



"I was good. I was. Once."

Caroline bit her lip, a weight lowering on her chest. "You still are." She stepped towards the Petrova, towards the shadows. "Tatia, come with me. Leave with me."

"Can't!" Tatia snapped. "Can't, can't, can't–"

Caroline gripped her arm. "Why not? You're not bound here! Not to a chair, not to chains–"

"But I am," Tatia answered. "By her. And by my madness. I can't leave it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's all I have left." Wrenching her arm from Caroline's grasp, Tatia's chilling giggle dissolved into the shadows.

Mouth twisting in pity for the madwoman, Caroline moved towards the entrance.


Stefan stumbled back from Sophie, a sheen of sweat layering his trembling body, breathes short. "She is on the Other Side," he gasped. "But it wasn't the Other Side – it was almost...and there was someone else–"

"Tatia; she guard's it; Isis' own purgatory," Sophie interrupted groggily. "It's swathed in bands of a magical energy far greater than our own; it's like a permanent cloaking spell to all who try to breach it."

"Then how was Klaus able to breach it?" Bonnie wondered.

"True love," Sophie answered dryly.

"You can't be serious."

"Call them 'soul-mates' then, if you wish. But don't forget Klaus is Volfango's doppelgänger; there was bound to be a loophole; there are loopholes inevitably exist in every law."

"We can make contact with her," Bonnie then declared, ahead of them all. "If she's on the Other Side, we can summon her."

"But we may not be able to summon her to us if she'd trapped in that dungeon," Davina gently reminded them. "Isis' power may prevent it; think about it – she wouldn't be so stupid as to leave Caroline unguarded, so that she could make contact with anyone who might help rescue her."

"It's worth a try," Stefan responded. "With three powerful witches – one of them, linked to her – summoning Caroline, we might be able to break through; even if its only momentary."

"If we summon her, I'll talk to her," Davina offered. "She's connected to our coven; I'm connected directly to its power-source because of the Harvest. I'm stronger."

All nodded in agreement. "And we won't need something of hers to do it because we have Sophie," Bonnie added.

"Then let's not waste any more time," Sophie rasped. Davina took her by the arms, and propped her up.

"We need candles," Bonnie instructed.

Nodding, Cami disappeared into her kitchen and returned moments later, arms laden with different assortments. She set them down in the centre of the room. "Do you think think it'll matter if they're scented?"

No one responded to her attempt at lightheartedness, save for Stefan – who offered a small tug of his lips.

All lowered to their knees in a circle, and linked hands.

"Focus on Caroline," Bonnie instructed, "anything you've got; any memories you have of her." When all closed their eyes, she began. "Repeat continually after me: Faes mastos communis avictus."

"Faes mastos communis avictus," the group responded in unison, and the flames before them spiked. They grew louder. "Faes mastos communis avictus. Faes mastos communis avictus. Faes mastos communis avictus."

"She's here," Davina gasped, eyes fluttering open as the rest continued to chant. "Caroline."


She'd just escaped the dungeon when the indescribable pull had overcome her, conjuring her. She'd felt her soul propelling through space – their voices summoning. And when the sensation had stopped, she'd opened her eyes – and there they were.


Davina fought the urge to reach out and touch her, but knew she couldn't break the bond of the circle. "What happened to you?"

Caroline came forward. "When Isis possessed my body, she sent my soul back to the Other Side; I was trapped again, in her dungeon. Just when you called for me, I'd been freed by Tatia."

"How did it happen? How did she get you?"

"The last thing I remember was sitting on the porch with Rebekah; she apologised – we shook hands, and then–" Caroline's faced dropped. "Isis had been possessing Rebekah. She used Rebekah as a vehicle to get to me. God knows how long she's been under her influence; trying to drive me out of Mystic Falls, and pushing me towards Klaus makes so much more sense–"

"How do we reverse it?" Davina desperately asked – but then, suddenly jolted, and looked to the others in the circle.

Sophie was losing consciousness.

The connection was growing weaker.

Caroline too worriedly acknowledged this, and answered quickly, "Rebekah."


"That's all Tatia could give me. The key to defeating Isis – to bringing me back; whatever it is; the key lies with Rebekah. You need to get to her; break Isis' influence. You need to break Klaus from her. Look, free who you can; but Rebekah first."

"How do we do that?"

"I don't know; I wish I did," Caroline responded. "If it were me – I knock her about the head; its a matter of the conscience. Isis has influenced her; think about it." The daemon's face fell from ponder into worry, as her eyes fixated on Sophie.

"What?" The young witch whispered.

"Davina...you need to go. Sophie will die. Let go of me," Caroline urged.

"But we haven't finished–"

"We have; I don't know anything else; I can't tell you anything else. You need to find Rebekah and get her on your side. Okay?"


"Let go."

Very reluctantly, Davina mentally loosened her grip, until Caroline's formation slipped away – and disappeared.

The circle broke.

And when it did, Davina answered the immediate unspoken question: "Rebekah," she repeated.

Cami rushed forward with a box of tissues to dab the blood away from Sophie's face.

"Caroline said Isis used Rebekah as a...vehicle; she says that she could have been using her...," the younger witch finished, "she said that the answer lies with Rebekah."


Her heart wrenched at the sight of him. So close, but a dimension apart. At least she was free of the dungeon; no longer a million miles apart, and separated by Isis' powerful barrier, she could see him. Be with him. And pretend, for just a moment, that she could touch him.

Beside him, the demon slept. But noticed that Klaus slept on her side of the bed – that Isis slept on his. His sleep was fitful – he precipitated, tossed and turned, murmured her name, cried out for her in tormented whispers. She wanted to settle him. She needed to settle him. Kneeling by his bedside, she reached out, fingers settling on his cheek – but she couldn't feel him. She closed her eyes, allowing the tears to cascade. Alone on the Other Side, she cried out to him. Her wasn't her whole being – but her whole soul ached for him. With love. God, with love. As he fisted restlessly, she comforted him in the only way she knew how; though she knew it would have not touch him. She leant forward, and pressed her lips to his.

But it did.


Waking with a jolt, Klaus' fingers flew to his lips. He didn't even look to Isis – because it hadn't been her. Beneath the influence. Beneath his being, right through to his soul.

He felt her.