Sookie was tired of watching people she loved lose themselves. Tara was gone again, eyes black, voice dreamy, swaying like a branch in a storm. The house was crawling with madness. People chanting in the backyard. Eggs walking through the kitchen like he owned it. And Maryann?
Maryann was laughing.
Lafayette had pulled a gun on someone an hour ago. Sam had disappeared again, some shapeshifter move she didn't catch. Andy was drunk, angry, and two seconds from doing something stupid.
Sookie stood in the foyer, heart pounding, thinking the same thing over and over:
"We can't win."
Then the lights flickered. And everything stopped. The humming. The chanting.
Even Maryann's voice.
She was still smiling, but her head turned slow and sharp. Like a predator smelling something that shouldn't be there. Outside, the ground trembled. Just once.
Not an earthquake.
A presence.
Maryann's smile faded for the first time in days. She looked toward the door, past Sookie.
Whispered, "You finally came to see me."
Sookie turned. And saw him.
Lucan.
Standing in the open doorway like he'd always been there. Black shirt soaked in rain. Hands relaxed at his sides. Eyes grey with no shine.
He wasn't tense.
He wasn't armed.
But every cell in Sookie's body screamed that something older than this world had just stepped into hers.
Maryann stepped forward, barefoot and elegant. The others watched, silent now.
Even Tara.
Even Eggs.
Lucan didn't speak. Not to her. Not to Sookie. He just stepped inside and looked around. Like he was studying a crime scene long after the blood dried.
Maryann opened her arms.
"You could've been part of it," she said. "We could've made something beautiful."
Lucan met her eyes and finally spoke.
"You mistook hunger for purpose."
She flinched only slightly, but it was real.
Sookie whispered, "Who is that?"
Lafayette said nothing, Andy crossed himself without realizing it and Tara smiled like she was dreaming someone else's dream.
Maryann exhaled sharply.
"You don't get to come in now and claim something you abandoned."
Lucan's tone didn't shift. "You're not the first to crown yourself."
He stepped forward once. The floor creaked beneath his feet.
"You won't be the last to fall."
Lucan left shortly after making his threat, intending to prepare for the inevitable fight.
-----
Amanda had never walked through Bon Temps like this before.
Barefoot.
Blood on her fingertips.
Breath even. Vision sharp.
She wasn't being pulled. She was being answered.
The streets were nearly empty now. Not quiet, just abandoned. The town had turned inward. Into the woods. Toward the old house. Toward the altar.
Toward her.
Maryann.
Amanda didn't know the way, but her feet did. Every corner felt familiar. Every dark turn lit itself inside her mind like she'd been here before. Because part of her had. The death tether had snapped wide open. But it wasn't just the dead coming through.
It was power.
Cold and heavy. Refined by pain and centuries of rot. And it wanted her to move.
So she did.
By the time she reached the house, she was calm. Maryann's house, once Sookie's was lit from within. Candles. Fires. Voices humming.
The smell of fruit and blood and soil.
Amanda stepped into the yard and felt seen.
The crowd parted. They didn't recognize her. But they made way. No whispers or smiles, just… room. Like animals sensing something bigger than the one who'd been feeding them.
Maryann stood in the doorway. No robe or crown tonight. Just skin. Glowing, slick, almost vibrating. She smiled the moment she saw Amanda.
Not surprised.
Not mocking.
But knowing.
"You made it," she said. "I was wondering when you'd stop pretending."
Amanda stepped forward until they stood only feet apart.
"I didn't come for you," she said.
Maryann's smile widened.
"No. But you came."
Their energy collided quietly and invisibly. No light show. No burst of magic. But the ground beneath them pulsed. The air thickened. And somewhere in the woods, Lucan's head turned sharply. Only one thought in his mind
'Amanda'
Maryann's voice dropped to a whisper. "You feel it, don't you?"
Amanda said nothing. Because she did. Not her own strength. Not Maryann's.
Something deeper.
Something rooted and primordial.
Maryann reached out.
Amanda didn't stop her. But just before contact, the ground trembled again. And a voice cut through the smoke from behind them:
"She's not yours."
Lucan said, his voice sharp.
Amanda turned to him, but didn't know which part of herself she was looking through anymore.
He stepped from the tree line like the night peeled itself open to let him through.
Maryann turned before he spoke, smile already fading.
Amanda didn't move.
She stood between them, still herself, but only just.
Lucan's cold gaze never left Maryann.
"You don't get to touch her," he said.
Maryann tilted her head. "She came to me."
"No," he said. "You called. She answered something older."
The yard was silent. Even the followers had stilled. Some watched from the porch, others crouched in the grass like animals sensing a larger predator.
Amanda looked between them, Lucan and Maryann like she was standing on a fault line seconds before it split.
Maryann took a step toward Lucan.
"You've lived too long without purpose. I could give you one."
"You already took one from me," he replied.
A flicker of something moved across his face, grief, maybe. But colder.
Maryann smiled again, wide and dangerous.
"You think she's yours?"
"No," Lucan said.
He stepped forward once. Then again.
"She's hers."
Amanda felt the ground pulse beneath her feet.
Not shaking, but responding. Like the dirt knew which of them bled deeper.
Maryann's fingers twitched. Behind her, the trees groaned, branches twisting. Something surged through the air. Not magic. Not wind.
Will.
She raised a hand. The altar behind the house cracked. Stone split open with a sound like bone under pressure.
And Lucan didn't flinch.
"You want worship," he said.
Maryann's hand curled into a fist.
"You want rebirth."
He took another step.
"You want meaning."
Now she was screaming, not with fear. With rage.
"You're the old world!" she shouted. "You're what we buried!"
Lucan was five feet away now. His voice dropped.
"I buried myself."
Maryann lunged. It wasn't subtle and it wasn't elegant. It was animal.
But Lucan didn't meet her force with force.
He caught her. Hands to her arms. Looking at her with cold grey eyes. And the ground around them died. Grass turned gray. Flowers wilted. The fire pits snuffed themselves out.
Maryann screamed again, this time not in rage, but in pain. Not from her body. From what was being taken.
Lucan held her still and whispered something into her ear in the same dead language he used on Kyle. This time, Amanda felt it ripple through her skin like a cold wave.
Maryann dropped hard. Face in the dirt. Still breathing, but broken.
Lucan stood over her. He didn't gloat. Didn't strike again. He looked down at her like you look at a statue you used to worship, but now realize is just stone.
Amanda stepped forward. Her voice shook.
"Is she dead?"
Lucan didn't look back.
"No."
"Why not?"
Lucan's answer was calm.
"Because I want her to see the world move on without her."