"Thank you all for coming," Sebastian's rich voice bounced off the headstones.
A hush broke out through the crowd as they gave their undivided attention to the young man who promised so much. Sebastian surveyed the crowd with golden brown eyes and unwavering optimism. Change was finally coming.
Witches of all covens were gathered around the graves on common ground. Lafayette cemetery at midnight terrified the humans but it was sacred ground to the witches. The tourists were all too busy on Bourbon street to accidently wander in on the witches and their business. It wouldn't end too well for them is they did.
It used to be the place at which they were the most powerful. Anyone who dared challenged a New Orleans witch on ancestral ground would soon join the city of the dead. The ancestors used to be on their side and gave them grace whenever they needed it. It used to be their place of power, their sanctuary, theirs. Sebastian would see to it that it would be theirs again.
"I asked you here to tonight because tomorrow…tomorrow things will be different. Tomorrow marks the five-year anniversary of Marcel Gerard taking down the Mikaelson family. A day for celebration, sure. For them. But for us, it's a day of remembrance. We remember those lost in the senseless fighting between Marcel and the Mikaelsons'. We remember the years of oppression and violence who claimed so many. Brothers, neighbors—family lost to a cause that was not ours! And what did we get out of it? Our city crawling with vampires and no magic to protect ourselves or others. They treat our city like it's a playground; just a place for them to feed and party and leave a trail of chaos. I ask you! Where is this peace Vincent Griffith promised us? Because-I don't know about y'all—I certainly don't feel it."
Sounds of agreement flowed through the crowd. Sebastian paused as he regained his composure, clutching the quartz necklace that hung around his neck. His heart ached thinking of all the friends he never got to see again. His neighborhood was turned into a battlefield as he was forced to play witch soldier. This plan had to work. They all knew. The witches stood fuming, hanging onto his every word.
"No sir, I don't feel it in here," Sebastian trailed his hand to his heart before let it fall limp to his side. "Five years ago, Vincent decided he could speak for the rest of us and made the decision to sever the link between us and the ancestors; taking what it rightfully ours. Ever since then we've been forced to the sidelines of our own city. And we have had no choice but to seek other, lesser types of magic. But this magic, the power of our ancestors, belongs to us. It is our birth right as witches of New Orleans. We've been without our magic and our city for far too long. Tomorrow, we take the city back. But tonight, we reclaim our birth right."
Sebastian waved a hand out in front of him, commanding the candles of the altar came to life. The remains of Davina Claire laid out as if she were laying their still. A chalice, bundles of herbs, a grimoire and an athame lay next to her preserved skull.
"Davina Claire. A powerful witch in life but in death, her power has become so much more. You see, Davina and Vincent thought they were so clever. Using a temporary life-line, Davina was able to sever the link of the ancestors from the other side. But all that magic didn't just disappear. Instead it was stored in the bones of the very person who tried to snuff it out. Ironic, huh?" He tapped a finger on her bones. "Now, years later, we finally have all we need. The remains, the ritual, and the sacrifice."
Sebastian looked to his right, gesturing to his followers to bring out the sacrifice. Two men stepped out of the shadows with a young woman locked in between them. The velvet bag over her head drowned out any cries for help. Her pale hands were tied in front of her shaking frame. The witch smiled in spite of himself. This was the moment he'd been waiting for; for years, he'd been researching in secret for the ritual to draw the magic out of Davina's bones. He'd spent the better part of the year just figuring out a way to get his hand on her remains without alerting Marcel or Vincent. Those two had a firm hand on the city and protected her grave from everyone that wasn't them. But Sebastian had bided his time and this was finally happening. They wouldn't know what hit them.
The two men shoved the young woman toward Sebastian who caught her before she fell. The young man kept a grip on her arm as he removed the bag from her head. The woman was tall, almost the blocking Sebastian's view of the crowd as she stood in front of him. Her dark brown hair clung to her face with sweat and the makeup she spent so long carefully applying now ran down her cheeks. Her chest heaved, her eyes searching wildly for someone to help her. Sebastian swept her hair away as he whispered in her ear.
"What's your name?"
The girl choked out an involuntary sob, nearly collapsing to the ground in fear. "Mm-my name is Jessica…please - p-please just…let me go!"
Sebastian sighed, blinking slowly. He gave her a small shameful smile. "Don't worry Jessica, everything is going to be fine, I promise." He lifted his head to address the congregation of witches. "Let us begin."
One by one, the witches lifted an open palm to face the altar. Their chanting voices filled the graveyard as they chanted in a forgotten language. Their words shifted the feeling in the night. A hum of energy flowed though airwaves. Each of the witches felt it; the energy, coming deep within, flow from their feet to their fingertips. Though the magic was dim, it was all Sebastian needed for the ritual to finally succeed.
The young woman struggled to break free. Sebastian's long fingers curled around the athame. Her scream never left her throat as the Sebastian dragged the knife across her windpipe. Her blood drained out over her clothes, over Sebastian's hands and into the strategically placed chalice. Her body convulsed violently as her eyes stared wide at the young man. Sebastian couldn't bring himself to watch the life leave the poor girl.
He delicately set the young woman next to Davina's remains. He dipped a finger in the chalice of blood before carefully drawing an ouroboros on the skull. He moved to draw the same symbol on Jessica's corpse. He gasped at the touches of magic starting to flow in his veins again. The witches around him felt it too as the fire around them flared bigger. They felt the familiar feeling of power as the chanting hit a crescendo. Sebastian's joined the crowd in the spell. He dipped the bundle of sage and other herbs in Jessica's blood. Reaching over to light the herbs, he relished in the feeling of sweet magic joining him to the world around him again. With the herbs in clutched in his hand, he let them burn over the deceased witches. He closed his eyes to appreciate his hard work finally playing off. It was the power Sebastian had been owed. It was wonderful, absolute bliss.
It was gone.
Sebastian opened his eyes in horror as the beautiful feeling left his body. His body ached so painfully that he was forced to take a step back. The fire abruptly extinguished around them, leaving them in the dark again. The crowd gave sounds of surprise and disappointment. They turned to question one another. Their voices turned angry as their palms curled into fists. They yelled at the young witch standing in front of them who was worried they'd rush the altar and attack.
Sebastian raised a hand. The crowd obeyed the gesture as they waited for an answer. He gave an uneasy smile and spoke with false-confidence. "Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for that. I can be nothing if not honest with you and I'm inclined to admit that I'm not entirely sure what happened. Maybe the sacrifice wasn't enough- maybe we weren't enough. Maybe this is a test from the ancestors." Sebastian took a step toward the crowd. "The one thing I am sure as of now is that we are one step closer: tonight is evidence of that. You all felt your magic return. It was brief but it was there. I need you all to remember that feeling as you continue to put your faith in me. If you can do that, I will do right by you."
Despite their frustration, the witches believed in the young man before them. All of them had watched this boy turn into a man of a revolution. They remember him fondly: an 8-year old boy, riding his bike down the broken streets of the Tremé neighborhoods. They remember him as the little boy who would deliver sacred herbs to witches practicing in secret. Almost all of them remember the defiant boy standing up against Marcel's men who rounded up those witches. They owed a lot to the man standing before them. They owed him their faith at least.
After giving his final word, Sebastian dismissed the crowd with an award winning smile. He watched his followers disband, waving goodbye to those he knew personally. Soon, it was just him and his personal crew left standing.
Sebastian moved to stand over Jessica's body. His heart felt heavy as he finally untied her hands. He placed her hands back on her abdomen, thinking of how unnecessary this all felt. She wasn't the first one to lay here and, much to young man's dismay, she wouldn't be the last. He frowned deeply as he slipped the cord of rope into his pocket. He faced the altar again, his whole body feeling drained and tense all at once.
Nobody flinched as Sebastian calmly picked up the chalice of blood before chucking it at the walls of a nearby tomb. The blood splattered over the granite slowly dripping down to stain the grass. He then took the remains of the burned herbs, threw them at his feet and crushed them beneath the heel of his boots. He yelled out in frustration as he stomped on the sacred plants. His fiery eyes burned holes in the skull on the altar as he picked it up with blood stained fingers.
He held Davina's skull in his hands, staring menacingly at the crudely drawn symbol on the bone. "You promised! What more can I do? What more can I give?! I did everything I was supposed to and this is how I'm repaid? We deserve MORE!" Sebastian slammed the skull done on the slab of concrete sending a crack through the structure.
"Sebastian," A fellow witch called. "Marcel's people are snooping around the west corner and are heading this way. We-uh- need to go."
Sebastian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He straightened his posture and turned around to face his friend. "You're right. Put the body with the others and gather everything up. We leave in 10."
His followers moved on his command. They shrouded the body in cloth as Sebastian stood by desperately questioning how things could've possibly gone wrong.