DOPPELGÄNGER.

The quiet had weight.

You sat at your desk, fingers lightly tapping against the spine of an unread book. The lamp beside you cast a dim, golden glow, stretching long shadows against the walls. The world outside your window was still, the night pressing in like an unseen force.

But something about the silence was off.

You had felt it all evening, a subtle wrongness in the air, like a presence just outside the edges of your perception. It wasn’t anything tangible—no creaking floorboards, no sudden gusts of wind—but it was there.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your arms against the unexpected chill.

Maybe you were imagining things.

Or maybe…

Your gaze flickered to the window, half-expecting to see something staring back at you. But there was only the darkened street, empty sidewalks lined with swaying trees.

Still, the feeling didn’t leave.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Deciding fresh air might help, you pushed away from your desk and stepped onto the porch. The night was cool against your skin, the air crisp with autumn’s touch. You hugged yourself, eyes scanning the quiet street.

And then—

A whisper.

Faint. Just behind you.

Your breath caught as you turned sharply.

No one.

But your skin prickled.

Your pulse pounded against your ribs as you stepped backward toward the door, suddenly aware of how alone you were.

Or rather… how you weren’t.

And just before you slipped inside—

A shadow moved at the edge of your vision.

But when you looked—

Nothing.

The air felt heavier now, charged with something unseen. You locked the door the moment you were inside.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night.

—————: ̗̀➛

Morning came like a reluctant whisper.

The eerie weight of the night still lingered in the back of your mind as you went through your morning routine—brushing your hair, getting dressed, trying to shake the residual unease.

By the time you left for school, Mystic Falls was bathed in soft golden light. Birds chirped in the distance, cars rumbled down quiet streets, and the town seemed perfectly normal.

So why didn’t you feel normal?

As you stepped onto campus, the usual routine of high school life unfolded around you.

Groups of students huddled by their lockers, laughing at private jokes. The football team roughhoused in the parking lot, their voices echoing over the pavement. Teachers sipped their morning coffee, already tired before the first bell.

You navigated the hallways like a ghost—seen, but unnoticed.

It was always like this. Pretty, but unknown. A loner by nature, though not by choice. You had acquaintances, but no real friends. People knew your name, but no one really knew you.

Maybe that’s why the feeling of being watched was so unsettling.

Because today, it wasn’t the usual indifference you felt.

It was eyes.

Tracking you.

Lingered glances that made your skin crawl.

And when you turned—

Stefan Salvatore stood across the hall, watching you.

You weren’t sure how long he had been there, but his gaze was too focused, too sharp. Like he was analyzing you rather than looking at you.

Your stomach twisted.

You forced yourself to keep walking, ignoring the way your heart pounded against your ribs.

But the feeling never left.

Something about today was different.

And you weren’t sure if you were ready to find out why.

—————: ̗̀➛

First period was history, the classroom thick with the scent of old textbooks and cheap cologne. Mr. Saltzman droned on about the Civil War, his monotone voice making it impossible to focus. You took notes out of habit, but your mind wandered.

That uneasy feeling from the night before hadn’t left you.

The hairs on the back of your neck tingled, like someone was watching. But every time you glanced around, the other students were absorbed in their own world. A few whispered to their friends, some scrolled through their phones under their desks, and a couple of athletes in the back were half-asleep.

Nothing unusual.

Except for him.

Stefan sat two rows ahead, unmoving. His posture was stiff, his head tilted slightly—listening. Not to the lecture.

To you.

You weren’t sure how you knew. You just did.

And the way the air felt heavy around you only made it worse.

You forced yourself to look away, shifting in your seat.

When the bell rang, you gathered your books quickly, avoiding his gaze as you slipped out into the hallway.

Second period, English.

The classroom was brighter, filled with animated discussions about Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Mrs. Carson assigned partners for an upcoming paper, but as usual, no one picked you.

Not that you minded.

You were used to working alone.

Still, the loneliness gnawed at you today more than usual. Maybe because you felt like you weren’t just alone—you were being isolated.

Like something unseen was setting you apart from everyone else.

You ignored the feeling and focused on the assignment, scribbling notes in the margins of your book.

But the second time you caught Stefan looking at you—watching you—you felt the unease settle deeper into your bones.

Lunchtime.

You sat outside under the oak tree near the back of the school. It was your usual spot—far enough from the crowded picnic tables to enjoy the quiet, but still close enough to observe.

Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline sat together as usual, laughing over something on Bonnie’s phone. The football team occupied a row of tables nearby, shoving each other and talking loudly.

And then there was him.

Stefan stood with his brother, Damon who you rarely saw around, by the edge of the courtyard. Damon was smirking talking about something, but Stefan wasn’t paying attention.

Because his eyes were still on you.

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

What the hell was going on?

You forced yourself to focus on your lunch, pretending not to notice the way Stefan seemed increasingly fixated on you.

You weren’t expecting Stefan to block your path when you exited your last class.

But there he was.

Waiting.

You barely had time to react before he spoke.

—“Where is your family from?”

You blinked. “What?”

—“Your bloodline,” Stefan said, voice too steady. “Where are your ancestors from?”

You frowned. “Why would you ask me that?”

His gaze darkened. “Have you ever felt like something was wrong with you?”

Your stomach twisted.

You took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Stefan studied you like a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

—“Do you have dreams that feel too real?”

Your breath caught.

Something in your chest tightened—an old, buried feeling you didn’t recognize.

But you masked it with a scoff. “You’re weird, Salvatore.”

And then you turned, walking away before he could say another word.

But deep down—

You knew something was very, very wrong.

And Stefan knew it, too.

—————: ̗̀➛

Stefan sat in his bedroom, flipping through another ancient text, his brows furrowed in deep concentration.

He had been at this for hours.

Because you didn’t make sense.

Doppelgängers had always been part of a cycle. A pattern. A balance. Yet, when he saw you in class—

It felt wrong.

Not because you looked like Elena. You didn’t.

Not because you looked like Katherine. You didn’t.

But because he knew you. Or at least, he felt like he should.

And that was the problem.

There was no record of you in the Petrova bloodline. No missing historical piece that could explain why your face felt so familiar.

But he couldn’t shake it.

And the more he searched, the more unsettled he became.

Then, deep within the pages of an unread book—

He found something.

His breath hitched as he traced his fingers over an ancient carving—etched into a worn page.

It was you.

Your face, frozen in time.

Stefan’s heart pounded.

The inscription beneath the carving sent a chill through his veins:

—"When the cycle bends, a shadow will rise—a doppelgänger neither bound by fate nor controlled by time. She will be hunted, worshipped, and feared. For she is both a prophecy and a mistake."

A mistake.

His fingers curled into the paper, jaw tightening.

What the hell did that mean?

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

—“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Stefan looked up as Klaus strolled into the room, his usual smirk in place.

—“You’ve been obsessing over this mystery girl all night, mate.” Klaus mused, glancing at the open book. Then he saw the carving.

His smirk vanished.

Silence.

Then, in a quiet voice, Klaus murmured, “That’s impossible.”

Stefan exhaled sharply. “Then explain her.”

Klaus stared at the image for a long time before something dark flickered behind his eyes.

—“Well,” he mused, his smirk returning. “It seems we’ve found something far more interesting than the cure.”

Stefan stiffened. “Klaus—”

But the hybrid was already walking away, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.

Stefan didn’t like that reaction.

Not one bit.

…

Klaus walked into the living room of the Salvatore’s house, swirling his glass of bourbon from the table, watching the fire flicker.

Stefan was worried.

That meant you were important.

And Klaus had never been one to let a mystery go unanswered.

He had already sent someone to track you.

To test you.

If the books were right—

If you weren’t meant to exist—

Then Klaus had just found something more valuable than even the cure.

And he would make sure no one else got to you first.

A slow, dangerous smile curled at his lips.

This was going to be fun.

—————: ̗̀➛

The uneasy feeling didn’t leave you, not even when you were safely inside your house back from school today.

Maybe it was the way the street outside looked too quiet when you pulled into the driveway. Or how the wind barely stirred the trees, as if the air itself was waiting.

You told yourself you were just being paranoid.

Locking the door behind you, you dropped your bag by the couch and exhaled. The house was dimly lit, save for the glow of the kitchen light your mom always left on for you. The silence stretched thick, pressing in on you from all angles.

The unease gnawed at you.

You shook it off and went through the motions—grabbed a snack, did some schoolwork, scrolled through your phone. Eventually, you showered and crawled into bed, willing yourself to ignore the feeling that something was off.

But as soon as you closed your eyes, the dream came.

A field of bodies, scattered under an orange-hued sky. You stood at the center, heart hammering, surrounded by a ring of fire. Shadows twisted in the flames, whispering in voices you couldn’t understand.

And then you saw her.

A woman—your face, but not quite yours—standing across from you, blood dripping down her hands. Her lips moved, speaking words you couldn’t hear.

Then the fire surged higher, consuming everything, and you woke up gasping.

Your room was pitch black.

The air was ice cold.

And your bedroom door—which you swore you closed—was wide open.

Something had been here.

Something was watching.

You stayed frozen for what felt like an eternity, your breath shaky, skin prickling with unease. When nothing moved, you finally scrambled for your bedside lamp and switched it on. The warm glow filled the room, but the shadows still felt too deep.

You barely slept after that.

—————: ̗̀➛

Another day at the Salvatore house, Stefan stood stiffly by the fireplace, flipping through an ancient book, his brows drawn in focus. The dim lighting flickered against his face, sharpening the tension in his jaw.

Across from him, Klaus poured himself a drink, watching.

—"You've been brooding more than usual," Klaus mused, swirling his bourbon lazily. "Something troubling you, mate?"

Stefan hesitated, fingers tightening on the page.

He wasn’t sure how to put it into words.

The moment he saw you at school, something had clicked—a distant, buried memory, just out of reach. He had seen that face before. Not just familiar. Important.

And yet, there was no record of you.

No past family ties to the Petrova bloodline, no supernatural connection—nothing.

Except that wasn’t possible.

—"You ever get the feeling you've seen someone before, but you know you haven't?" Stefan finally muttered.

Klaus arched an eyebrow. "This about the girl?"

Stefan didn’t answer, but Klaus's smirk widened.

—"Ah. So she is something special."

Stefan shot him a glare but turned back to the book, flipping rapidly through pages. He had searched through every known record of doppelgängers, cross-referencing ancient texts and even Katherine’s old documents. But none of them mentioned you.

Until now.

His breath stilled as he came across an old prophecy, buried deep in a forgotten tome. The ink was faded, but the words sent a chill through him:

—"And when the cycles break, when the destined ones stray from their path, a new shadow shall rise—neither born nor made, but conjured by fate itself. A doppelgänger of unknown origin, unseen in history, yet bound to the same curse."

Stefan’s grip tightened on the book.

This wasn’t just another Petrova doppelgänger.

You weren’t supposed to exist.

Klaus, peering over his shoulder, let out a slow, amused whistle. "Well, well. Looks like nature threw us a surprise."

Stefan set the book down, pulse thrumming. He had thought you were just another ordinary girl, but this? This changed everything.

And Klaus?

The intrigue in his eyes was unmistakable.

—"This could be... entertaining," Klaus murmured, a slow smile forming. "I think it's time I meet her properly."

—————: ̗̀➛

The next morning at school, Stefan wasted no time.

You were at your locker when he appeared beside you, moving so silently you nearly jumped.

—"You need to tell me something," he said, voice calm but urgent.

You frowned. "You’re getting too comfortable to be coming up to me with weird questions, Salvatore."

—"Has anything... strange happened to you lately?"

Your fingers stilled on your locker handle.

The dream. The whispers. The shadows.

You swallowed hard. "No."

Stefan studied you, his gaze too intense, like he was peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had.

—"Are you sure?" he pressed. "Nothing unusual? No weird dreams, strange feelings?"

Your heart pounded. Why did he look like he already knew?

—"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you muttered, slamming your locker shut. "Can I go now?"

Stefan exhaled, frustration flickering across his face. Then, just as quickly, he masked it.

—"If you start to feel like something’s wrong," he said, voice softer now, "you come to me."

It didn’t feel like a suggestion.

It felt like a warning.

…

That same evening, the eerie feeling hadn’t faded.

You tried to push it aside as you walked to your car after school, but the nagging sensation of being watched clung to you.

And then you saw it.

A figure—standing completely still by the tree line, too far to make out, but unmistakably watching.

Your pulse lurched.

You blinked, and they were gone.

Your breath came quicker, a chill racing down your spine.

You hurried to your car, locking the doors as soon as you got inside. But the feeling didn’t leave.

Something wasn’t right.

—————: ̗̀➛

That night, you felt the presence before you saw him.

A low hum in the air. The undeniable sense of someone there.

And then—a voice behind you.

—"Quite the mystery, aren’t you?"

You spun, heart slamming into your ribs.

A man stood in the doorway of your room, too perfect, too still. His eyes—icy, piercing, far too amused—devoured you.

You couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t even breathe.

Because somehow, you knew—this was where your life ended.

Or maybe, where it truly began.