As Elena and the others entered the woods, the sun was setting. She had caught up with her friends as they left the safe house and Stefan, his voice low, filled her in on what had happened as they followed Chloe's lead. They wandered in the dark woods for what felt like a long time, all of them tense and quiet.

Branches smacked Elena in the face and she wished for the night vision of a vampire or a werewolf, or for Meredith's well-honed hunter's instincts. Even Matt, tromping along stoically beside her, his eyes fixed on Chloe up ahead, seemed to be running into fewer things than Elena was.

She was on the verge of wishing her Guardian Powers would just kick in already; this was probably the kind of thing they'd be good for, never mind whether she actually wanted those Powers or not.

Finally, a sliver of flickering orange light appeared in the distance, and they headed toward it without speaking. Elena was jogging, her breath coming in harsh pants. At least now that Stefan and the Pack had slowed their pace to accommodate Meredith and Matt, she could just manage to keep up with the group.

As they got closer, she realized the flickering light was from a bonfire. The wolves ahead of her pricked their ears up. Then, suddenly, they and Stefan were running, long strides eating up the distance and leaving the humans behind. Chloe trailed a few paces after them.

Matt's and Meredith's strong hands closed over Elena's arms and they pulled her along between them, running after the others. She stumbled, a sharp pain shooting through her side, but they held her up and she kept moving.

A moment later, they could hear what Stefan and the Pack had heard. A heavy chant of many voices seemed to throb and reverberate through Elena's head. Above the murmur rose a single voice, calling out sharply.

She couldn't tell what language they were speaking, although it sounded ancient and guttural. Not Latin, she thought, but it could have been Greek or Old Norse or something much older, from the early days of the world. Sumerian, she thought wildly. Incan. Who knew?

As she broke into a clearing, her eyes stung from the smoke and light of the fire, and at first all she saw was a confusion of writhing dark shapes against the light. As her eyes adjusted, she saw Ethan, still looking incongruously like the preppy college senior he had been not long ago, leading the chant. His forehead was slightly wrinkled in concentration, and he held up a goblet full of rich, dark blood as if it was nothing more than wine.

Why aren't they stopping him? Elena thought, and then the struggling bodies before her came into focus.

Stefan, brutally graceful, was ripping into the throat of a tall, slightly stooped vampire. Elena recognized him vaguely as someone she'd seen around campus, before the Vitale Society pledges had all been changed into vampires. Nearby, the werewolves fought, too, the wolves flanking and protecting the humans as they battled together, each perfectly attuned to the others' positions. The vampires not currently locked in battle had formed a circle around Ethan, blocking him from attack as he continued his ritual.

Meredith pitched herself into the fight, the silver ends of her stave flashing in the firelight. Elena and Matt, all too aware of their lack of supernatural Power, hung back at the edge of the clearing. Chloe stood at a little distance from them, her eyes fixed on the battle. She was biting at her lip, her arms wrapped around herself, and Elena felt a sharp pang of sympathy for her: she remembered the anxious cravings of being a new vampire, and the way your sire's every move seemed to call out to you. It must be agony for Chloe to keep from flinging herself into the fight.

Matt was watching Chloe, his forehead creased with worry, but he kept his distance, angling himself to protect Elena from Chloe as well as from the other Vitale vampires. He must remember how volatile a new vampire could be, too. Elena pressed his arm gratefully. Once again, she thought: If I have to be a Guardian anyway, now would be a good time for some Powers to kick in.

She tried to sense if anything might be changing inside her, feeling as if she was probing a loose tooth with her tongue, but she didn't feel any different. There was no sense of potential unfurling within her, as she had felt during the brief period after her resurrection, when she had been ripe with the mysterious and dangerous Wing Powers. Just mortal, everyday Elena, with no way to help now.

As she watched, a vampire gripped the sides of a huge white wolf - Zander - and with great agility and strength, tossed him aside. The wolf's body slammed heavily to the ground near the edge of the clearing and lay still. Elena's heart froze. Oh, no, she thought, stepping forward involuntarily, but Matt held her back. Oh, Bonnie.

The wolf lay still for a moment, and Elena couldn't see if he was breathing. Then, slowly, he clambered to his feet, his sides heaving. There were streaks of blood and mud on his pure white fur. Zander wavered on his feet, then seemed to find his balance and, snarling, threw himself back into the fight. With a sudden charge, he brought a vampire to her knees and Daniel, stake in hand, finished her off with one quick blow.

When Elena had arrived at the clearing, the fighters had seemed evenly matched, and there was no way to break through the wall of vampires to stop Ethan as he performed the ritual. But Meredith had gone in whirling like a dervish, her weapon flying, and the tide of the battle was slowly but clearly turning.

Meredith and Stefan exchanged a glance and she began to fight her way closer to the fire, moving steadily toward Ethan even as she angled her stave to strike a vampire, bringing him to the ground. Elena's eyes could barely follow her as she unsheathed a hunting knife from her side and, with one vicious swing of the blade, cut off his head. The body toppled backward, and suddenly a path opened through the crowd between Stefan and Ethan.

Stefan pushed away the vampire he had been fighting and leaped in one great bound over Meredith's head, landing on his feet in front of Ethan.

The chant stuttered to a halt. Stefan reached out and wrapped his hand around Ethan's throat just over the windpipe, tightened, and squeezed. The younger vampire choked and mouthed wordlessly, his hands desperately scrabbling at Stefan's. Reaching down with the hand not holding Ethan by the throat, Stefan felt at his side and brought out a stake. Ethan's golden eyes widened as Stefan pressed the stake against his chest. Elena heard Chloe whimper slightly, but the vampire girl didn't move.

"Good-bye, Ethan," Stefan said. His voice was quiet and matter-of-fact, not angry, but Elena heard, and so did the others. Everyone had paused in their fight, arms straining against one another, eyes turned toward Stefan and Ethan. It was as if they were all holding their breath. Then the vampires began to snarl and shriek, fighting to reach their sire. But the wolves moved faster than Elena could have imagined, flooding into the circle around Ethan and Stefan, holding the vampires back. Elena sucked in a long, relieved breath. Stefan had gotten there in time. The worst wouldn't happen. Klaus, the madman, the Original vampire, would stay dead.

Ethan glared at Stefan, but his lips slowly curled upward into a terrible smile.

Too late, he mouthed silently, and the glass in his hand toppled backward. Rich, red blood poured out onto the fire.

As soon as the blood touched the fire, it exploded into high blue flames. Elena cringed and shielded her eyes against the sudden burst of light. All around her, the others cowered, vampire, human, and werewolf alike.

The flames and the clearing filled with smoke. Elena was shaking, coughing, her eyes watering, and she could feel Matt wheezing and shuddering beside her.

As the smoke began to clear, a tall, golden-skinned figure took shape and stepped out of the flames. Elena knew him. She thought, as she had the first time she saw him, that he looked like the devil, if the devil were handsome.

He was naked as he came out of the fire, his body lithe and well muscled, and he held his head up proudly. His hair was white, his eyes blue. His smile was joyous and insane, and every move held the promise of destruction.

Lightning cracked overhead, and he threw back his head and laughed with what sounded like sheer malevolent pleasure.

Klaus had risen.