Author's Note: As I mentioned in the last update I am currently taking part in Nanowrimo in an effort to actively move this story forward. Though I have not quite kept up with the daily goals I am happy to report that I have worked on this story every single day in November thus far. I would venture a guess and say this is the shortest span between chapters! I can't promise that this will be a regular occurrence but I do hope you enjoy this chapter. The next few chapters really are transitioning into a whole heap of trouble for Bonnie and co. I am excited to have you guys see it unfold. I really appreciate you all for supporting my story. I love reading your feedback. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Part Ten

Bonnie ends up standing in front of a place called Jardin Gris.

It looks like any other tourist trap from the street. There is garland, honeysuckle she thinks, strung along the window and voodoo dolls staring back at her. It is just witchy enough to pull in the curious - but she has a feeling there is more to this place than meets the eye. Considering she has always trusted her instinct in the past, she opens the door.

The smell of incense hits her, familiar and comforting. A smile plays on her lips as she steps inside and lets it engulf her. She misses this so much that she feels a physical ache as she moves into the middle of the room. All around her are tokens of her past - potion bottles, herbal mixtures, spell books. Some of it is fake; souvenirs for the tourists to take with them when they leave New Orleans. However, her keen eyes spot little things (the braided lemongrass hung over the door to help cleanse the air, the smile vials of purplish liquid that she knows is vervain) that tell her a real witch holds court in the Jardin Gris.

She is about to get her first look.

The woman behind the counter is deep in conversation with a couple who obviously have embraced the adage it's five o'clock somewhere. Bonnie's hand moves sideways, brushing across a glass case containing a blade and landing on a book, some abridged version of New Orleans' history and she spends her time pretending to browse it as she spies on the exchange. The witch can't be any more than a few years older than her - mid-twenties at most. She's dressed for the part; a gown in earth tones reaches her feet and hangs loosely around her arms. There is a sash at her waist, a scarf in her hair and bracelets jangle around her wrists. She is the quintessential New Orleans witch but something tells Bonnie that much of it, just like much of what surrounds her, is for show.

The couple are talked into buying something that promises to enhance their mood. Bonnie rolls her eyes as she flips the page. She turns her head slightly, catches the witch looking at her and then buries her head in the book. Moments later she hears the tinkle of the bell over the door. When she lowers the book she finds herself up close and personal with the owner. "Bonnie Bennett," the witch muses and Bonnie can hear some of that infamous New Orleans accent coming through. "I was hoping you'd wander into my little corner of the Quarter."

Bonnie raises a brow. "I am still getting used to the idea of every witch in this city knowing my name."

"Well, not every witch," the other woman answers and smile plays on her lips. "But enough of us do. And truthfully, I didn't know who you were exactly. I've heard of the Bennetts of course. I've heard of you - hard not to know of the witch that nearly put Klaus Mikaelson down even if you've never laid eyes on her. Then today of all days, this stranger wanders in, traces her fingers across the athame like she knows it is just a trinket for the tourists and pretends to read a book when she really wants to ask me some very important questions." She taps her temple with her index finger. "Call it intuition."

Bonnie sets the book back in its place and glances at the blade. She hadn't noticed before but the handle is plastic, the symbol a decal - it's clearly a replication. Perhaps that is why she had paid it so little attention. She looks back to her host. "I think it's only fair that I know your name since you clearly know mine."

"Enid." A hand is extended, accompanied by a clanking of metal as her bracelets slide down her arm. "Enid Lacour, owner of the Jardin Gris. Welcome."

Bonnie takes Enid's hand with her own. Her power is evident and she has a mischievous glint in her eyes as Bonnie pulls herself free. "Pleasure to meet you, Enid," she says, though she hasn't quite made up her mind if she is telling the truth yet. She'd like to get right down to business but she knows she can't. Davina's may be on a clock but Bonnie will not risk exposing too much information to Enid. Not until she is sure that Enid won't go running to track down Davina herself - or worse, call in the rest of her coven. "I figured it was time for me to get to know the witch community here. It seems like my vacation is stretching out longer than I thought it would so I may as well give into my curiosity."

"And Sophie Deveraux can't answer all your questions?" Enid asks as she turns to fix an arrangement of candles. She leans down, purses her lips and blows. The wicks spark to life.

Show off, Bonnie thinks. "Sophie's told me plenty but…"

Enid holds up a hand. "Let's just lay it all out. Sophie's next exactly popular among these parts. I get it. Both sides - and I am staying the hell out of it." She straightens to her full height yet again and Bonnie notes that Enid has an inch or two on her. "Witches around here are getting worried of course. Harvest deadline is closing in…" She tilts her head, eyes Bonnie thoughtfully. "Felt the Quarter grumble earlier and I just knew. Shame really...how this all played out."

"The Harvest," Bonnie repeats and she knows the interest she projects is real - she just hopes that Enid and her intuition don't know why. "Sophie gave me the basics. I have to admit...that's a new one for me. I guess since I was mostly on my own there is a hell of a lot to learn about our community…"

Enid clicks her tongue. "Our community? You still think of yourself as that even though you're as powerless as that couple that just bumped their way out of here?" There is a flash of pain in Bonnie's eyes and sharp little Enid (who Bonnie decides she doesn't like at the moment) picks up on it. "Now, now I don't mean to wound. I know it's touchy - I just meant you hold onto who you truly are even if something has warped you into what you don't want to be. A lot of folks would just give up, walk away. You're a witch at heart, Bonnie Bennett."

Well, now she likes her (let's see how long this lasts).

"Yes," she says and once again her eyes sweep over the contents of the Jardin Gris. "And I miss it."

"Of course you do," Enid says. "You lost a part of yourself - it's only natural to yearn for it."

Bonnie breathes deeply and then pushes the air out. She hopes the physical act of doing so will help soothe the ache (ever present but now intensified by this conversation). "Which is why I am here, surrounded by it and hoping to learn more." Perhaps she can return the focus to the Harvest, to trying to find as much as she can about it. She needs definitive proof that it will work as Sophie says it will. She cannot condone anyone being slaughtered for no other purpose than to gain power.

Enid nods. "I think I have a way for you to achieve such a goal." She turns, moving through the store until she disappears into the back. Bonnie waits, thinking that Enid will return with just the thing that Bonnie is looking for. Moments pass and there is no sign. Slightly annoyed (and perhaps back to disliking the other woman), Bonnie follows the path Enid has taken. She hesitates at the doorway (having been always taught to mind the Employees Only sign) but then thinks of Davina, no doubt still regaining her wits back at the Abattoir, and enters.

And here is the reason there is more than meets the eye at the Jardin Gris.

Unlike the storefront, with its carefully planned layout designed to ensnare the curious, the back is more chaotic, cluttered. There are piles of texts, some as old as the vampires who skulk in New Orleans' shadows. There are plants hanging from the ceiling, drying out no doubt. A mortar and pestle rest on a table and Bonnie can see that Enid has been creating bottles of herbs that don't appear on the shelves out front (she briefly wonders if they are for purchase by inquiry only). Though an overhead light leaves nothing in the dark, there are candles placed on free spaces. Each has a symbol carefully scribed in. Bonnie recognizes a few - peace, safety; the others pique her curiosity.

In the middle of the room Enid stands, carefully turning the pages of a book that has seen better days. She spares Bonnie a quick glance. "Thought you were going to dilly dally away the morning out there."

There is little use in pointing out that no invitation had been issued. Instead she presses her lips together to keep from losing her temper. She can tell by the contents of this room alone that she needs Enid. "This is quite a collection."

"Mmmhmmm. I inherited it from the previous owner, who inherited from the witch before that and so on." She closes the book and sets it carefully back where she found it (there seems to be no discernable order). Hands go to Enid's hips and she eyes the piles. Then she smiles and starts moving books aside from a rather tall stack. She runs her palm over a book in the middle and then turns with it in her hand to face Bonnie. "This should help you save Davina."

Bonnie's mouth opens slightly.

Enid just smiles and taps her temple again. "Intuition remember?"

Bonnie's fingers close around the book and she pulls it free from Enid's grasp. A quick glance confirms that it is a journal. The cover is faded and the binding looks ready to give. It's a priceless artifact and it currently jammed underneath a book on local fauna.

"Make yourself comfortable and read away. I've got customers who'll need tending too as soon as I tell them what ails them." She gives Bonnie a wink and then pushes past, leaving Bonnie standing alone in the room.

"I like her. She has spunk."

Bonnie starts, nearly tossing the book into the air. She spins and finds Kol tucked between two bookshelves. He is eyeing his surroundings with interest. "Bit messy though. Then again a good witch has little time for housekeeping."

"I'm putting a bell around your neck," Bonnie says evenly. Though he has a point about the mess. She resorts to carefully moving aside the herbs on the table so she can set the book down. She finds a chair under another stack of books (some of them grimoires that she itches to open). She knows Kol is watching her so after she sets the chair in front of the table she turns to him. "I hope you're here to tell me something useful and not to get under my skin again because my patience is pretty much non-existent at this point."

Kol pushes himself free from the wall, a grin covering his face. "I get under your skin?"

"Don't even pretend like that it is news to you," Bonnie retorts. "What did you find out?"

"Digging around the Other Side is proving to be difficult," Kol begins and she gives him a look. "Fine, fine, I'll skip my well-rehearsed preamble to tell you that things are quiet. Too quiet - which tells me that this plan is far enough advanced that it does not need to be whispered in the shadows. I did manage to find some novice witch; burnt at the stake centuries ago, poor thing. She wasn't entirely useless. She might not be from New Orleans but she has heard enough in her wanderings to confirm our suspicions - someone on the side of the living is using sacrificial magic to boost their power enough to break through to the Other Side. Apparently Marcel's vampires were the first ones that were actually discovered. Who knows? There might be a pile of hollowed vampire husks rotting away in the bayou somewhere."

"Comforting." Heavy sarcasm implied.

Kol sobers up a little. "Look, I wish I could tell you more. They are smart, these witches. They are covering their tracks."

"They probably know you are asking questions too," Bonnie says with a sigh and sinks into the chair. In front of her the book that may help determine Davina's fate seems to tease her. She wonders how long she can split her attention (the easy answer: not long enough). "Which means they'll be more careful. Sacrificial magic...that's no easy feat. Whoever we're looking for, he or she'll be older, more practiced. I can ask Sophie." She makes a face. "Maybe there is a witch roster she can give me a rundown of. We can narrow down the suspect list." Then what? Send the Mikaelson brothers after them? They will slaughter the witches without stopping to question whether or not they are truly involved.

Kol waits a beat. "I like your plan because it is better than no plan." He raises a brow. "So why are you not skipping off to see your new witchy best friend?"

"Davina," Bonnie answers quietly. "She's dying - I am just trying to figure out whether or not it will be a permanent one…"

Kol clearly knows better than to make some sarcastic remark. "The poor chit. She was cute; tiny."

"She's also still alive at the moment," she says and turns in her chair. She takes a deep breath and opens the journal. Kol moves closer. "Don't even think you are going to read over my shoulder. You can go now." He doesn't budge and she looks up at him. "Kol?"

"I've spent the better part of the morning by myself," Kol admits. "I don't know about you, but that is about all the alone time I can take at the moment." He puts up his hands in surrender and takes a step back. "Look, I won't get in your way. You read your witchy memoirs. I'll busy myself...counting the number of bloody candles in this place. Fire hazard if I ever saw one."

Bonnie watches as he hops up on the edge of a shelf. His legs dangle and he averts his gaze. He is trying hard not to stand out and by doing so he stands out. She thinks over what he has said. Alone; he's tired of being alone. She understands that and if she can help him from completely losing his mind then so be it (she'll leave the implication that he wants to spend time with her, even if it's just swinging his legs into thin air, alone for the time being; she has enough on her plate). "Fine," she says and tries to sound as if she is doing him a favor. He continues to let his eyes roam but he does smile. She buries her eyes in the book.

It takes her a few moments to adjust to the intricate loops of the author's writing. It looks beautiful but impractical in today's world. Within a few pages she realizes she is reading the thoughts of an elder in the French Quarter Coven, written just over three hundred years ago (somehow Enid knew just what she has been looking for; there is something to that intuition of hers). Heloise Montel. For a while she reads the day to day routines of the Coven in a time when witches were respected and revered. She wonders what it must have been like to live when witches controlled New Orleans; when they were not used as tools and threatened into submission. For a moment, she loses herself in that thought.

Then reminds herself for the hundredth time what is at stake.

She begins to skim, moving through pages as a quickly as possible until finally she reads it: The Harvest nears. She is focused now, reading carefully as the Heloise laments the waning of her power. She and the others meet and discuss what must be done. She describes just what Sophie did the night at Rousseau's, only she is more businesslike about it. Four girls will be chosen; four girls will be sacrificed. Bonnie pulls back from the text for a moment to find that Kol has hopped off the shelf (funny she never heard him move; but then again she has been engrossed). He has his head tilted and he is examining the stacks of books. "You have great admiration for witches…" She begins, thinking of their conversation in Jackson Square. He seems to flinch and she wonders (with a touch of glee) if she has caught him off guard for once. "Have you ever heard of the Harvest?"

"Crazy ritual in which they off some of their own to keep the ancestors smiling in their favor?" Kol asks. "Of course I've heard of it."

"Of course," she repeats as if it is the logical thing to say. "So, is it real?"

"Not sure really," he answers. "Apparently the witches here did it a few years before Klaus rowed us all across the Atlantic. I heard about it after I woke from my extended nap. By then, all the witches that would have been directly involved were dead. But the rest swore by it - said it was their way to ensure that the French Quarter Coven would always reign supreme over the rest of the covens in New Orleans. Seems a bit...barbaric really."

"Says the vampire who has amassed a body count in the thousands," Bonnie says with a snort. "I just...I thought maybe because you ran with witches when you were alive and kicking you might have heard something. It would be nice to have an opinion from someone who wasn't a witch."

Kol has his finger on the spine of a book (she wonders if he can really feel it). He pauses and then turns his full attention to her. "Look, Bonnie, things as elaborate as that don't just spring from nothing." And that is all he has to say. He turns back to browsing and she begins to read again.

Bonnie is careful as she turns the fragile pages. She commits to memory bits and pieces. My family has been honored; our eldest chosen to be a Harvest girl. My pride is evident. These are not the words of a woman is worried that she will never see her daughter again. Later, Heloise talks of her daughter's commitment (Helene has thrown herself into practicing; honing the gift that she has been given so she may return it the earth). Bonnie wonders if she should read between the lines - Helene knew what was coming; Davina did not. Perhaps it is a difference in time, in expectations and in faith in the coven.

Finally she arrives at the Harvest.

The details leading up to the ritual are sparse. There is talk of ceremonial robes, crowns of carefully chosen flowers - each thing is mentioned as if it is a checklist and nothing more. As an elder, Heloise receives a front row seat (to her daughter's death). Helene is the first, a representation of our bond with the earth. She stepped forward with her head high. I told her I loved her and then I ran the blade across her throat.

She lets out an audible gasp.

"Bonnie?" In a blink he is close (too close).

She blinks and pushes away the book momentarily. "She killed her own daughter. She didn't even hesitate. She slit her throat…"

"Faith," Kol reminds her.

She is still wide eyed as she turns back to the text. She finds herself rereading the same line repeatedly (ran the blade across her throat, ran the blade across her throat). She feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up. Kol is quick to pull back. "Faith," she says, and is determined to push past that moment. She needs to be objective, see what else she can glean from this horrific event. She puts emotion aside - taking her lead from Heloise who succinctly ends the entry in which she describes her daughter's murder with: It is done.

The next few pages are rambling descriptions of power, of renewal - there are very few references to the dead girls (objective, she reminds herself). Finally, she locates that piece of hope. I have my Helene home. She too has found strength in her sacrifice. Bonnie's finger runs across the line. "Maybe it's true; maybe it works," she says quietly. She wants it to; she needs it too.

"In truth, what does Davina have to lose by going through with it?" Kol asks. The urge to snap back dies quickly because he is right - if she is dead either way, why wouldn't they try the one thing that just may allow her to come back? Kol is better at being objective than she. "I wager it's worth a shot. If I was dying...again, I would want to try anything to avoid it. I doubt you'll be able to convince my brothers and that thick headed Marcel of that but you can go straight to the source."

"Davina," she breathes. She has to talk to Davina into letting someone end her life.

She is going to be sick.

Kol flicks the spine of a book with his index finger, the sound pinging in the cramped room. "This one."

Bonnie's brows push together. "Huh?"

"I thought I might find it here after I realized this place is the dumping ground for journals, obscure manuals and grimoires." He smiles (it seems genuine instead of his usual sly grin). "This particular grimoire belonged to one of those witches I mentioned being fond of. She's a beauty - dark hair, eyes that could bring you to your knees...a wicked tongue…"

"Kol!" She says it loud enough that she winces, afraid that Enid will have heard her from her post behind the counter.

"The point, Bonnie, is that she helped me. As you may know, I tend to forget the meaning of the world subtle at times…"

"At times?"

"Let's not quarrel over trivial things," Kol instructs. "Instead, let us focus on the task at hand." He seems pleased that he is the one scolding instead of her for a change. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. "As I was saying, this particular witch helped when I needed it. I had heard a rumor that my darling brothers were not happy with my behavior…"

"Shocker," she snorts and then presses her lips together when he gives her a look.

"She weaved a nice little spell that cloaked my location long enough for cooler heads to prevail. I avoided the coffin for a while longer." A wistful smile crosses his face. "She was a clever one, that witch. A member of the Treme Coven and let me tell - Treme witches are fierce warrior. At that time, the Treme and the French Quarter Coven were butting heads. Things were escalating and things started happening: mysterious fires, altars being destroyed, low level witch vandalism. She was determined to find the culprit so she cooked up a locator spell. Not on the witch, since she didn't know who it was, but on their signature - everyone has their own; kind of like a thumb print. That way the next time this particular witch decided to mess with Treme property, they would know exactly where he or she was as it was happening."

"Clever…" Bonnie says, dragging out the word as she tries to figure out why Kol has told her this story (other than to brag about finding himself up close and personal with a witch). Then it hits her. "Oh my God! We can do that. We can put a trace on the signature of the witch doing the sacrificial magic."

"Now you get it." He nods his head toward the grimoire again. "You just need this."

Bonnie stands, moving automatically to pull the book from its perch. She almost has her fingers around the spine before she stops. Kol raises a brow. "It's not mine," she says quietly as she turns her head to look at the doorway to the front.

"It's not hers either," Kol mutters. "And I doubt the lady of the house is going to want to hand over a book that could potentially damn one of her coven and help the vampire overlords who have been oppressing them…" He smiles as she raises her hand again. "If your conscious is giving you too much hell you can always return it when we're done."

He feels like the devil on her shoulder at the moment but she can't deny that he has a point. Asking Enid might be akin to tipping off the person they are looking for. She sighs and then pulls the book free from the shelf. She tells herself that guilty feeling will dissipate when they finally know who their mysterious witch is. "How am I going to sneak this out of here?"

"You could always stuff it down the back of your pants - a loose fitting top like that will cover the obvious bump," Kol suggests.

She gives him a look of disbelief. "Let me guess, you also pickpocketed in your day."

No answer on his part - just a playful raise of his brows.

Turns out she doesn't have to be that sneaky.

Enid is engrossed in conversation with an elderly woman when Bonnie sticks her head out and just her luck, Enid's back is turned. Bonnie tucks the grimoire under her arm, thankful for the long cardigan she had thrown on when she woke up. She uses the stores shelves to her advantage, weaving through them so nothing but her head is visible. Enid only sees her when she is almost at the door. "Leaving?"

"Yes," Bonnie says as she curls her body instinctively away.

"At least pretend like you haven't stolen the last cookie from the jar," Kol mutters sarcastically and she realizes he is right behind her.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Enid asks. Thankfully, she doesn't move too far from her current customer.

"I did, actually. I appreciate your help. I'll be by again." And then because she is worried that she looks just as Kol has described her, she smiles (or attempts to).

Enid smiles back.

X

"I am going to a special circle of hell for this," Bonnie says as soon as they are far enough away from the Jardin Gris.

"Says the immortal anchor," Kol chirps beside her.

"You know what I mean." She glances over her shoulder almost as if she expects to find Enid standing there.

"Lighten up on the whole I betrayed my witch sisterhood vibe, Bonnie," Kol commands. "For all you know you could have stolen the grimoire out from underneath the nose of the witch very witch we are trying to find."

"It's not her," Bonnie says immediately.

"And you are basing this on what exactly?" Kol asks.

"Instinct. I just know," Bonnie tells him. She finally uses both hands to hold the grimoire, pressing it to her chest.

"Wonderful." There is a high level of sarcasm in his voice. "We shall just line up all the witches of New Orleans and have them submit to the Bonnie Bennett sniff test."

She doesn't even dignify that with an answer. Instead she stops dead in her tracks, and turns her head from left to right. Kol watches her for a beat or two then asks the obvious question. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get my bearings. Where is Rousseau's from here?" It had been dark when Rebekah had led her there and now she sees nothing that is familiar. "Left or right?"

"Straight ahead," Kol answers and Bonnie wastes no time starting off in that direction. "Wee bit peckish?"

"We need a witch to perform the spell. They have one in the kitchen," Bonnie reminds him. She doubts that Sophie will agree right away to help but Bonnie has gotten this far despite all the odds; she's not giving up now.

They walk another block before Bonnie discovers landmarks she has laid eyes on before. Soon she sees the sign. She is mindful of the time, picking up her pace. If she can avoid a confrontation with Klaus she will chalk up a win for the day (she needs one desperately). When she opens the door to Rousseau's she finds it nearly empty save for one or two customers scattered throughout and the blonde (Cami, right?) behind the bar. She smiles at the blonde. "Sophie in?"

"Yes, came in about twenty minutes ago. Finally. Thought I was going to have to cook myself," Cami states and then shakes her head. "Talk about a potential disaster."

"I am sure it wouldn't be that bad," Bonnie assures her. "I need to see…"

"Go on in. I am far from the boss of this place," Cami says with a wave of her hand.

Bonnie finds Sophie much the same way she found her during her first visit to Rousseau's; bent over the prep table, engrossed in work. She clears her throat and Sophie looks up immediately. Her eyes widened. "Davina?"

She realizes it is easy for Sophie to assume the worst. After all, she has shown up mere hours after Sophie made the fatal diagnosis. "She woke up," Bonnie begins, wanting to dispel any fear the other witch may be feeling. "Like you said she would - and accompanied by…"

"The earth shaking," Sophie finishes, her mouth set in a grim line.

Bonnie nods. "She seemed to be like herself. Marcel no doubt believes that you were just trying to scare him into handing her over. He can't see that she's dying."

"He couldn't. He loves her - in his own way. He has this thing with kids. He doesn't want them hurt," Sophie explains.

"But adults are fair game," Bonnie adds. She wonders at what age someone officially becomes an enemy to him. She glances down at the grimoire, still clutched to her chest.

It is natural for Sophie to follow her line of sight. She raises a brow. "Where did you get that?"

"I…uh, borrowed it," Bonnie answers and behind her Kol snorts, reminding her that she still has her tail.

"Borrowed," Sophie repeats. "Look, the less I know about where you got that the better. Though, I would imagine you want to tell me why you have it."

She nods and there is a quick glance at Kol, who gestures for her to move forward. She knows Sophie is wondering just what she is looking at but now is not the time for a detailed explanation. "This grimoire has a spell in it that I am going to need for you to perform," Bonnie begins. She can see the fight spring to Sophie's eyes automatically. "I know, I know - I hate asking this of you, especially since your magic is slipping between your fingers but it's important I swear. Those bodies, the sacrificial magic used to kill them…it's all linked to something horrific." Though she mentally conceded that the definition of 'horrific' would depend on who is asked. "I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't really need it done."

Sophie wipes her hands on her pants. She seems reluctant but she moves to rest against the counter. "Let's see it."

It takes her a minute of fumbling through pages (and wondering if Kol has been wrong about the ownership of this particular grimoire) to find the spell in question. Bonnie sets it in front of Sophie. For a moment she is completely quiet, stepping back to let Sophie examine the spell. Sophie sighs a moment later. "It's clever, very clever. But it will take a considerable amount of power to pull it off."

This is when the guilt kicks into overdrive. Bonnie presses her lips together, and for a moment is tempted to snatch the book away from her and tell her to forget it. However, she knows it is important. "Would it help if you channel something?" She asks.

Sophie closes her eyes and nods. "Now why didn't I think of that?" She closes the grimoire and turns her body toward Bonnie. "Look, I'll do it. Only because you asked me to." There is a pause. "And I am not going to lie - I am hoping that you will help me in return."

"I know," Bonnie says with a nod. "And I know what you want help with. I understand, Sophie." More than ever thanks to the personal recount of one Heloise Montel and a boost of logic courtesy of Kol. "In the end, I want to do right by Davina. You work on making this spell a reality and I'll talk to Davina. I don't want her to be dragged kicking and screaming into this. It's not fair to her and being a part of all of this has already dealt her one hell of a hand." She presses her lips together, laying her condition for helping Sophie on the table between them. "She has to choose, Sophie."

Before times runs out.