*It goes without saying that The Originals – the story and all related characters – belong to the writers, cast and crew of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled The Originals. This was written by a fan solely for the enjoyment of other fans.*

Prologue

Seventeen Missing


"A red sun rises . . . blood has been spilled this night."

Legolas

LotR: The Two Towers


My name is Rachel Harding.

This . . . is not my story.

Too many people became a part of what would happen for me to call this mine. Too many lives interconnected. A web. I would come to learn that every moment; every single person I would meet had a purpose. We were all a part of a greater game, and as vital as I was to the end of it . . . I never stood alone.

Nothing that comes without cost holds its worth – and what I've found is infinitely precious.

What price is too steep to preserve this? It frightens me, knowing I have no answer to that. So much has already been asked of me. How far can I go before I have nothing left to give? How many pieces of myself am I willing to sacrifice?

I have known pain. I have known fear, despair, and the uncertainty that would follow us for so long. Yet I can't bring myself to regret the decision that would bring me to New Orleans. The moment that began all this. Because I've also known love. Experienced a depth of friendship and loyalty that I never believed was real.

And I've felt magic; real magic. This bright power coming up out of the earth, cool darkness and molten heat.

In all my life, I never imagined I would become a part of something so incredible.

The joke is that I was not dissatisfied with my life before this. There was no secret yearning for adventure. No desire for bigger or better things. I was happy. The predictability of my life reassuring. Home. School. I had friends. A family who loved me. Things were good and there's something to be said for certainty. For knowing what's expected of you.

And then everything changed; and I never saw it coming.

It was the fourth of May. The day my cousin disappeared.

Erin Jameson.

She was family. Friend . . . best friend. No one in the world I was closer to, and no one I trusted more. That closeness had always been there; a connection. Or maybe just this understanding that neither of us had to go it alone.

So I believed.

Things were changing long before I came looking for her, and the more they did the more I started to think I hadn't really known her at all.

Erin was fearless.

An active participant in her own life, she got things done. Made things happen. Where I was practical, she was driven. I used to think she was the sort of girl who would grow up to climb Everest; only so that she could say she did it.

Erin and my aunt, her mother, lived in the city of New Orleans. They moved there shortly after the death of her father when we were kids. A fresh start, away from the memory of the man they both loved.

My father joined them shortly after; moving south to be closer to his sister. My parents' divorce leaving me with my mother in Seattle, Washington. Three thousand miles away and clear across the country.

Every summer in July, for two weeks, I visited my dad.

Saw my cousin and my aunt.

My family divided but still, somehow, whole.

Thinking back on it, with the things I know now, I can't help but wonder if I was being drawn to the city. Like a part of me was waiting. Patient, unawares, but still . . . waiting. Some part of me knowing that that is where I needed to be.

And then Erin went missing.

She disappeared right off the face of the Earth. Just gone.

She was not the first. She wouldn't be the last. The papers were calling them the Seventeen Missing. Seventeen teenagers disappeared in the space of a few weeks; each snatched right off the street.

Abductions so sudden, it was like these people would pass behind a telephone pole and never make it to the other side. No witnesses. No evidence of what happened to them. They were just gone.

Aliens were blamed. So was voodoo.

The police pursed more likely scenarios; suspecting a network of human traffickers working the city. It made sense. A perfectly rational theory. For the first time in years I meant to stay home that summer. I really did.

Instead I went to New Orleans one last time, never intending to stay . . .

. . . unaware of the terrible sequence of events set in motion the moment I stepped out my front door.


XxXxXx


Quick Word from Day – "A Red Sun Rises" began just over two years ago; as an idea that was too big – too elaborate – for the amount of planning I'd originally put into it. The story got so lost, the plot so muddled that I've had to overhaul the whole thing just to make sense of it again.

ARSR is the one that stays with you, that sinks its hooks in and demands that you tell it properly. This overhaul is designed to better reflect my original vision; a lot has been added, for substance but also to repair some of the confusion from the first.

I truly and deeply love this story.

Best,
Day


For those who are interested, "A Red Sun Rises" has its own "official" fansite packed full of content. Updated regularly. Fanart, gifs, videos and playlists.

The "url" for this site is located on my Profile page. Just copy/paste it. (FF no longer allows links that take you off-site, so posting the url is the best I can do.)