Here is the full version of Chapter 1, complete and polished, following your outline and ending with your rescue of Davina Claire:
I died.
One second, I was in my apartment—TV remote in hand, halfway through a The Originals rewatch marathon with leftover pizza on my lap—and the next, I was floating in a void.
There was no pain, no tunnel of light, no angels singing in harmony. Just… nothing. Absolute blackness. A silence that felt ancient and eternal. My mind should've panicked. Instead, I felt oddly calm. Like part of me knew this wasn't the end.
Then came the voice.
Smooth. Calm. Unmistakably familiar.
"About time you showed up."
I turned and nearly fell backward, if falling were still possible in a place like this.
It was Morgan Freeman.
Or someone who looked exactly like him—immaculately dressed in white, hands folded behind his back, that iconic serene smile on his face.
"…God?"
He chuckled, deep and warm. "That's one of my names, yes. I figured this version of me would be easier on the eyes. Cliché, maybe, but people seem to like it."
"So this is—what? Purgatory?"
"No. This is the In-Between. The void where souls drift, where fates are decided. And you…" He stepped forward. "You, my friend, are getting a second chance."
I stared. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Call it cosmic curiosity. Or karmic debt. You've seen enough suffering in your world, and oddly, your obsession with fictional immortals caught my attention. I've decided to grant you three wishes."
I blinked. "Like, genie-in-a-lamp wishes?"
"Let's call it divine customization," he said with a wink. "Within reason. So. Choose wisely."
I didn't hesitate.
"My first wish," I said, my voice steady, "is to become Klaus Mikaelson, right after he breaks his hybrid curse. But I want to keep his memories and mine—everything I've seen, everything I know."
God gave an approving nod. "Interesting. Continue."
"My second wish: I want to be a Tribrid—a fully functional vampire-werewolf-witch hybrid. Magic, immortality, strength—the works."
"Very ambitious. Third?"
"I want the combined intellect of Tony Stark and Reed Richards. Their intelligence, creativity, memory, strategic thinking. Everything."
There was a long pause. Then a slow, knowing smile crept onto God's face.
"Well then," he said, raising a hand. "Let's see what you do with it."
And with a snap, everything went white.
I woke in the forest.
The pain was real—but not agony. No, this was transformation. My blood sang with power. My senses sharpened like never before. Every sound, every scent, every particle of magic in the air—I felt it.
I gasped and sat up.
And standing over me, his face tight with suspicion, was Elijah Mikaelson.
"You're awake," he said.
I stood slowly, brushing dirt from Klaus's long coat. "Brother."
He took a step forward, eyes hard. "What have you done with our siblings?"
Ah. That moment.
I looked him in the eye. "I didn't put them in the river."
His brow furrowed. "You said—"
"I told you that because I've been paranoid for centuries, Elijah," I said, voice calm. "Because our mother cursed me. Because I didn't know who I could trust."
Silence.
"But now the curse is broken. The beast inside me is no longer a threat—it's mine to command. I'm free. And I want what we once had. A family."
Elijah's expression wavered.
"But something's wrong," I added. "I feel it. I remember. Our mother—Esther—she's on the Other Side. Watching us. And she's planning something. I believe she's trying to kill us. Again."
He stared. "How do you know this?"
"Let's just say… I see things clearly now. And I have a plan."
An hour later, I dressed in a fresh black shirt, tailored slacks, and a long coat—the Klaus Mikaelson uniform of power. I turned to Elijah.
"I'm going to New Orleans. There are things I need to prepare."
"And our siblings?"
I handed him a folded parchment with coordinates. "You'll find them in a tomb beneath our old fortress in Eastern Europe. Kol, Rebekah… you may awaken them."
"And Finn?"
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Leave him daggered until I return. Our mother is influencing him from beyond. If he wakes, she'll speak through him."
Elijah stared at me for a long time, then nodded.
"If this is a trick—"
"It's not," I said. "Not this time."
And with that, I left the forest.
New Orleans.
The moment I stepped foot into the French Quarter, I felt the city's heartbeat thrumming beneath the pavement—jazz, liquor, whispers of magic. The past lingered in every shadow.
And then he found me.
Marcel Gerard. My adopted son. My failure. My future ally.
"Well," he said, arms outstretched. "Look who decided to return."
I offered a genuine smile. "Marcelus."
He raised an eyebrow. "This city doesn't belong to you anymore."
"I'm not here to take it," I said. "Not yet."
He blinked.
"I know you and Rebekah called Mikael," I said evenly. "You wanted to be together without my shadow looming."
His jaw clenched.
"I forgive you."
He looked like I had slapped him. "You… what?"
"You loved her. And she loved you. I won't stand in the way again. You can have your future, Marcel. I want us to be family again."
For the first time, Marcel was speechless.
Later that night, the pull of magic led me deep into the bayou—where a ritual was preparing to unfold.
The Harvest.
I remembered the episode clearly: four girls offered to the ancestors. A tragic manipulation. A lie. Three died. One survived—Davina Claire. Kol's future wife. A future Mikaelson.
Not this time.
I reached the clearing. Witches in ceremonial robes. Candles burning. The girls stood still, afraid. The blade gleamed in the High Priestess's hand.
I moved.
Lightning-fast. Efficient. Precise.
Magic flared from my hands, the power of a full-blooded witch unleashed. Throats slit. Spells crushed. Bodies dropped before the blade ever reached Davina's neck.
She turned, eyes wide. "You… you killed them."
"They were going to kill you."
Her lip trembled. "The Harvest—"
"Is a lie," I said, stepping forward. "They said you'd be resurrected. They never meant it. You were a pawn. A sacrifice."
"Why would you save me?"
"Because you're important," I said gently. "To the world. To me. You don't know it yet, but you're going to be part of my family."
She stared at me in disbelief. "Who… who are you?"
I smiled softly, lowering to one knee so I could look her in the eyes.
"My name is Niklaus Mikaelson," I said. "And I just rewrote your destiny."
[End of Chapter 1]