I'm uploading this episode a little bit earlier than usual because I'm anticipating power outages due to Hurricane Irma. Everyone stay safe out there.

This episode contains a musical cue. When you come upon the scene beginning with an asterisk (*), please go to bit. ly /pr1x11, which will take you to a YouTube video that will play a song chosen to accompany that scene.

Episode Eleven: There's Something Inside You

"To be born, you must sacrifice. Do you have faith?"

"I do."

Candlelight glints off of the metal of Theo's blade as she slits the third Harvest girl's throat. Those still in line flinch visibly, but the onlookers in the crowd remain stoic. About a hundred feet away, cloaked in shadows, Hope Mikaelson presses herself against the brick of a mausoleum, keeping herself far out of sight. She has a hand clapped over her mouth, eyes wide as she watches girls her own age be slaughtered, falling to the ground like leaves from a tree. A slow, warm wind rustles through the cemetery, the flames of the candles dancing and casting terrifying shadows on the walls.

Theo strikes down the fourth girl, and Hope ducks fully behind the mausoleum, unable to watch further. She snuck out of the compound to try and stop this ritual, but now that she's here, she's at a complete loss for what to do next. She could easily overpower the witches gathered, at least long enough for the remaining girls to escape, but the ritual has already begun, and Hope has no clue what will happen if she interrupts it.

She pokes her head back out to observe the Harvest. The tiniest sob breaks free from her lips as she watches the fifth girl collapse, crimson blood staining her white dress in the most macabre image Hope has ever seen. Still, she can't take her eyes away as Theo continues her quest to irrevocably change the city of New Orleans forever.

River's curled in on herself, a ball of pain and torture. She shrieks as the fingers in her hand snap, her breath coming so fast it's a wonder she doesn't just vomit.

The moon is close to its apex as Rose, about five yards away, shouts, "Fight the pain! You can do this!"

"I can't!" River sobs. "It's too much!"

"You can d—gah!" Rose flips onto her back, her spine arching as inch-long claws rip through her fingertips. Rose has been turning for years now, so she'll be a wolf long before River is. "You can make it, River," she pants. "I believe in you."

A deep, mournful howl echoes in River's chest as her legs contort into unnatural angles. She grits her teeth so hard she worries they'll crack. A thick, short layer of fur starts to spread up River's arms, and despite the pain, her eyes widen in shock. "Oh god."

There's a snarling, snapping sound from the side, and River looks up to see a wolf, long, lanky, and deep brown in color, where Rose had been just moments before. "Oh god," she says again.

The wolf lopes up to the mess of limbs that River has become and nudges her with its snout. River looks into the wolf's eyes and sees Rose staring back at her with encouragement.

"I can do this," River breathes, and the moon climbs ever higher.

Elijah's sitting in a lounge chair in the courtyard, a glass of scotch in hand. He shoots his brother a glare every minute or so. Klaus, leaning up against the exposed brick of the wall, narrows his eyes in return. "Do you have something to say, Elijah?"

With a cavalier shrug, Elijah says, "Nothing in particular. Mostly I'm just regretting that I failed to place a bet on how long you could go on being Hope's father before you locked her away from the world."

Klaus huffs. "I do not enjoy treating my own child like—"

"A prisoner?"

Klaus's face darkens. "I am trying to protect her."

Dropping the glass onto the small table beside him, Elijah stands up and slides his hands into his pockets. "Once again, Niklaus, you fail to see the difference between protection and tyranny."

"Well when she's alive at the end of the night, you can explain that difference to me."

"Sorry to interrupt, but…" The brothers turn to see Marcel and Vincent striding toward them from the entryway. Marcel has a fake smile plastered on his face. "We need your help."

"Our help?" Klaus wags a finger between the two men. "This Harvest is a witch problem. I suggest you get your witch to figure it out."

"Well I was actually hoping to borrow your witch," Vincent says. "Could use all the help I could get."

"And quickly," Marcel adds. "We don't know when they're planning to start."

"Absolutely not." Klaus points up at his daughter's bedroom. "Hope is not leaving this compound, and she is certainly not walking into whatever hell the witches have cooked up in the City of the Dead."

Vincent opens his mouth to argue, but Marcel interjects, "You're right. It's not safe for Hope. So instead, I want you two to come help me. Serve as a distraction. Anything that allows me to get those Harvest girls out of there."

"Why should I?" Klaus asks aggressively.

"Niklaus." Elijah stands in front of his brother, presses a hand to Klaus's chest. "Two of the leaders of this city have come to you for help. If you are sincere in your desire to make this place a safe home for your daughter, I suggest you consider wisely your choices in this moment."

Klaus stares at Elijah, his jaw clenched tightly. Then, after a long pause, he says, "Fine." He steps around his brother to address Vincent and Marcel. "We will come with you. Rebekah too. Freya and Hayley will stay here with Hope."

Marcel claps his hands. "Let's go."

Seven of the nine Harvest girls are dead, their bodies a grotesque sight upon the dais. Hope can feel vomit clawing its way up her throat, but, desperate to stay silent and out of the way, she keeps her mouth shut. Her brain is still spinning as she tries to figure out a way to stop the madness, but she doesn't know this magic, doesn't know how to help without causing even more harm.

She stares in horror as Theo's knife is raised once more, but the sound of footsteps coming from behind diverts her attention. She dives further behind the mausoleum, ducking out of the way just in time to be missed by a young woman running through the cemetery. "Theo!"

Once the woman is passed, Hope creeps up to poke her head out again. She sees Theo lower her blade. "Not now, Annelise. The Harvest is almost complete."

The woman approaches the dais, out of breath. "Vincent and Marcel have come to stop us, and they're not alone."

"The Mikaelsons?" Annelise nods, and Hope's stomach sinks to the ground. "Take a small group and head them off." She returns her gaze to the shaking Harvest girl in front of her. "It shouldn't be much longer now."

Hope retreats into the shadows once more as a small contingent from the crowd peels off, following Annelise away from the Harvest. Hope starts to panic; her family is here. She doesn't know how she's going to return to the compound without them knowing she ever left in the first place, and worse, she doesn't know if she'll be able to help them against these murderous witches if they need her. She wants to go to them, but there is something inside her, a tiny kernel willing her to stay and bear witness to this ritual. And so she does, peering out once again as Theo slashes the eighth girl's throat.

Marcel, Vincent, Klaus, Elijah, and Rebekah form a half-circle at the entrance to Lafayette Cemetery. Marcel makes a gesture for the others to follow him, and he charges through the gate—only to be repelled by a boundary spell. "What—"

The sound of voices chanting in unison is heard from a distance, growing louder and louder until the five see a small group of witches standing before them, hands outstretched. Wind whips around all of them as the chanting becomes even louder.

"What are you doing?" Vincent shouts. "Stop this!"

The vampires find it difficult to move, whatever spell the witches are casting keeping them nearly frozen in place. Vincent extends his own hand and begins a spell to break theirs down, but his power has little effect.

"Vincent, do something," Marcel snaps, fighting against the force of the spell.

Rolling his eyes, Klaus manages to bend down, inch by inch, and pick a rock up from the ground. Slowly, he cocks his arm back, and then the rock is flying. It strikes a dark blond witch in the head, sending him sprawling backward. Just like that, the force keeping the vampires in place weakens ever-so-slightly.

"You can't stop us, Vincent!" Annelise yells, glancing worriedly at her fallen comrade. "The Harvest has already begun! Soon we will be reunited with our ancestors."

"Soon you will be," Rebekah snarks, snatching a rock of her own from the ground and pelting it at Annelise's head. The girl goes flying, and the spell weakens further.

Marcel fights his way closer to the gate. "C'mon! Let's end this!"

"I will end this." Dominic appears just inside the cemetery, at the very edge of the gate. He flicks his wrist, and all four vampires collapse, necks broken. Vincent stares back at him as the wind dies down, the witches' spell along with it. "You are a disgrace," Dominic spits at his regent.

"And if this Harvest doesn't work, y'all are murderers."

The Versailles witch shrugs unsympathetically. "This is the risk we chose to take."

"The risk y'all chose to take!" Vincent jabs his hand toward Dominic. "You are doing this to our community! If this works, we will be slaves to the ancestors once more, and if it doesn't, nine teenage girls are dead. This is what y'all have done to us."

"You never did have faith, Vincent." Dominic spins on his heel and stalks into the depths of the cemetery, motioning for the others to follow him. Vincent stares at his retreating back, shaking his head in despair.

*River's back arches high toward the sky. Her limbs are now covered in a thick layer of jet black fur, and her eyes glow bright gold in the dark. An excruciating ripping in her gums makes her yelp, but the sound becomes muffled by the growing fangs. A few more broken bones, a rash of fur up her face, and River is gone.

In her place, curled into a ball, is a wolf, dark as midnight. It stands, slowly, each paw unsure on the soft earth. There's movement in the corner of its eye, and its big head whips around, jaw snapping.

It's answered with a low growl, and the wolf that is also Rose bares its teeth. Instinctively, the wolf that is also River lowers its belly to the ground, ears flattening in a silent sorry, sorry. The tongue of the Rose-wolf licks at its own snout, and the River-wolf sniffs. There's something in the air, gamey and small. Rabbit.

The wolf that is also River is off, tearing through the bayou, as silent as death. It can hear the crunch of twigs and branches behind it—the Rose-wolf is hot behind—but it's focused, tracing the scent of the fast-hearted rabbit as it bounds through the trees. The River-wolf stops only to bury its snout in a hole; the rabbit has disappeared, though the wolf can still smell its fear.

The Rose-wolf approaches with a loping gate, nudging the other wolf away from the rabbit hole. The wolf that is also River leaps away, mouth hanging in an open pant. It swats at the other wolf playfully, ducking low when the other wolf responds with a warning snarl. The River-wolf yips and darts away, and the Rose-wolf, before it can stop itself, takes off after it. The two chase each other through the damp, hot bayou of Louisiana, the bright glow of the moon gleaming off of their fur.

"I do." The final Harvest girl gasps as the blade slices cleanly across her throat, her knees buckling as she falls down dead. Hope's head is spinning.

Theo turns so her back is facing her victims. "After the Harvest comes the Reaping, their sacrifices made and accepted. Before our Chosen Ones are returned to us, I make a final sacrifice." Theo raises her blade, now dark and blunt with nine girls' blood, and slashes down across the palm of her left hand. "I sacrifice my blood to the Ancestors of New Orleans, and plead with them that they might bind themselves to their most faithful, most judicious descendant, that she might serve as their Advocate among the living. Now, we call upon our Elders to resurrect their Chosen Ones."

A hush falls over the gathered. All eyes, including Hope's, are focused on the line of bodies on the dais. Theo chews her lip nervously. "Come on," she breathes. "Come on, come on."

After several long minutes, a sob rings out from the crowd, and a low, worried murmur hisses through the air. Hope's eyes are brimming with tears; those girls are dead, gone for good. She's holding herself up against the mausoleum, close to falling to her knees, when nine simultaneous gasps echo through the cemetery.

The Harvest girls are awake.

The murmur becomes pandemonium as the parents of the Harvest girls scramble up onto the dais, and the rest of the witches react to a feeling coursing through their bodies. Hope feels it too, that slow, simmering tingle that's passing through her as if it were a ghost. Her heart pounds in her chest as she feels the connection to the ancestors stitched back together. Hope lets out a breathless laugh, the only reaction she can think of to the sudden influx of power she's feeling.

But then there's something else. A ringing in her ears that becomes more and more unbearable by the second. Hope's hands fly to the sides of her head and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to will the pain away. A whimper escapes her, and she falls back against the mausoleum, head swimming with pain. Despite the all-consuming ache that threatens to overtake her senses completely, Hope remembers that she can't be caught here, and so, fighting the agony shaking her skull, she skulks away from the celebrating witches of New Orleans.

With a low groan, Rebekah stirs. Her hand rubs at her neck as she pushes herself upright. "Bloody hell." She looks over to see Elijah coming to as well. "What happened?"

Vincent's sitting with his back to the outer wall of the cemetery, his arms propped up on his knees. He's staring out at nothing, not even sparing the waking vampires a glance. "It's done."

Klaus hauls himself to his feet, and then reaches out a hand to help Marcel to his. "What do you mean it's done?"

"The Harvest." Vincent's voice is neutral, toneless. "They've completed it. I felt the connection to the ancestors reestablish itself."

"Well at least those girls aren't dead," Rebekah says hopefully as Elijah helps her up. "That's not nothing."

"Yeah." The regent doesn't sound convinced. "Yeah, least those girls aren't dead."

From a distance, they can hear the cheers of the witches who gathered to complete the ritual. They all stand in silence, listening as the power in New Orleans shifts dramatically before their eyes.

It takes some skilled maneuvering, but Hope manages to use a trash can to help her reach the bottom of the balcony just outside her window. Then she hangs there for a moment, muttering, "Why didn't I work out with River when I had the chance?" before doing the first and hopefully last pull-up in her life so that she can claw desperately at the top of the rail. She hurls herself over the wrought iron, falling onto the balcony with a pathetic thud, and lays there, panting. "Never again," she promises herself.

She doesn't stay down long; she is just throwing herself onto her bed when she hears footsteps approaching from the hall. She whips her phone out of her pocket and opens the first app she sees—Plants vs. Zombies 5—and starts tapping at her screen just as the door opens. Her mother's head pokes in. "Hey."

Hope shoots her a glare over the top of her phone. "Come to check on the prisoner, warden?"

Hayley sighs, letting the door swing open. She leans against the jamb. "You're not a prisoner."

"Really? Because the inability to leave this room suggests otherwise."

"Look I'm not too happy with your father's…unilateral decision to keep you in here, but he was right to worry that the witches might want to use you in their Harvest."

"Whatever. As long as I'm trapped in here, I think I'll remain pissed off."

With a half-smile, Hayley pulls something out of her back pocket. It's the head of the clay figurine to which Freya had bound the spell. "That's what I came up to tell you. Your father called. The Harvest is over. You are free to go."

Hope clicks her phone off and sits up. "Thank you." She pushes herself off her bed. "I'm going to take a shower and then come down and get something to eat. I'm starving."

She heads for her bathroom, but stops when her mom says, "Hang on." She turns back to look at Hayley, confused. Hayley's scrutinizing her, eyes narrow. "Something about you looks…different. Are you okay?"

Hope blanches, but she says quickly, "The Harvest. If it was successful, then I guess that means I'm connected to the ancestors, too."

Hayley doesn't seem entirely convinced, but she says, "Alright." She starts to retreat into the hallway. "Well, hurry up. I think I'm going to order a late night pizza."

"That's the best kind."

Hayley smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She closes the door behind her, still suspicious of something she can't quite put her finger on. Hope lets out a low breath of relief; she can't believe she got away with both sneaking out and lying about it. She turns again to go into her bathroom, and as she enters, something catches her attention in the corner of her eye. Her head whips around to look into the mirror, where she sees herself, a little worse for the wear, and, more surprisingly, with blood dripping from her nose.

There's a small gathering in and around the LeRoy crypt, a collage of faces pressing in, ears searching to hear. There is only enough room for a few to stand inside, looking at Theo as she sits cross-legged on the floor.

"Anything?" Leanne asks, somewhat impatiently.

Annelise elbows her, a bruise sprawling across her forehead despite the large bandage covering her wound. "Wait!"

Theo's eyelids are closed, though the movement of the eyes themselves is visible as she searches the darkness for something, anything, any indication of the ancestors.

The connection thrums inside her chest—that she can feel. The kernel of magical energy that had lived inside her for the past fifteen years is now a big ball, a deep well that she finally has access to once again. But there is no trace of the source of that power, no voices, no presence within her. She searches herself, digging far within the recesses of her mind, but she only finds Theo.

After a long while, Theo's eyes slide open. She stares at nothing. "They're not there."

A murmur ripples through the crowd outside, and Leanne and Annelise exchange a look. "What do you mean they're not there?" the former asks.

Theo takes a deep breath, and then shouts, "THEY'RE NOT THERE!" With the force of her words, every candle in the cemetery blows out at once. She leaps to her feet, seething. "I can't feel a bond to them. I can't hear them, can't sense them." She tips her work table over, sending papers and trinkets flying. "It didn't work. The Rite of Advocacy. It didn't work."

Listen to us.

Tell Angelique about the secret key.

Eradicate the demons from our home.

There's no time to waste.

Listen to us.

Fifteen years…fifteen years…

We chose you.

Listen to us.

Listen to us.

LISTEN TO US.

Hope jerks awake, her breath coming is desperate gasps. Her head is pounding, a steady throbbing that makes stars dance behind her eyes. She grips the sides of her head, hoping the pain goes away.

That nightmare…but it wasn't a nightmare. It was voices, hundreds of them, thousands, all talking at once. She couldn't see any faces, nothing visual in the blackness to alleviate the intense sound of voices, voices, voices. She swings her legs onto the cool floor, stepping quietly onto the moonlit balcony. She takes a few deep breaths to compose herself. The pounding in her head softens, but doesn't disappear.

What is this? she thinks, staring up at the moon, fully on its descent in the sky. Fear of this unknown ailment grips her heart, but she shakes her head. This is ridiculous. You're being ridiculous. She returns to her bed, laying atop the covers, far too hot to climb underneath. Her eyes slid shut, but she doesn't fall asleep again for the rest of the night.

When River awakens, the first thing she realizes is that she's naked. She sits up quickly, clutching the thick blanket someone had draped over her more tightly to her body. The sky is just starting to pink, the sun not yet above the horizon. She's on the hard wooden porch of Mary's cabin, still groggy from the night before.

She hears a creak from behind her, and twists around to see Rose, fully-dressed, walking up, a half-smirk on her face. "Rough night?"

River laughs, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. "Something like that." She takes the hand Rose offers to pull herself to her feet. "Honestly, though? Not the worst night."

Rose quirks an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really." River sits on Mary's porch swing. "I mean, that pain…that pain was the worst I've ever experienced, and I've had some terrible periods, but…being a wolf…"

"You were a natural." River looks up at Rose, surprised. "I've never seen anyone take to it that quickly."

"Um. Thanks." River's ears color in embarrassment.

"You got any clothes?"

"Oh." She looks down at herself. "I didn't think I'd be awake so early. Hope's coming to bring them to me."

Rose nods. "Well, Mary's still asleep, so…" She settles onto the porch swing, rocking it slightly. "I guess I'll wait with you."

River smiles slowly. "Cool." The two wolves stare out over the bayou, watching the first rays of morning spill over the horizon.

Hope pads quietly through the open doors of St. Anne's Church. She only has a short while before her mother is going to drive her out to the bayou to get River, but she can't wait. She steps past the stoup of holy water and see Vincent, straightening up the altar. She clears her throat awkwardly; it echoes up to the rafters. "Hey."

Vincent shoots her a glance over his shoulder, and then returns to his work. "Hey."

Hope continues forward, wringing her hands. "So, um. What exactly happened last night?"

With a snort, Vincent says, "You didn't feel it?"

"Feel it?"

He finally turns to look at her, resting back against the altar. "The ancestors. The Harvest was successful. We're connected again."

"Oh. Yeah, no, I felt that." She gives him a small, sympathetic smile. "I guess you're not too happy."

"No, I'm not. 'Specially since Theo's grand plan turned out to be a bust."

That piques Hope's interest. "What do you mean?"

Vincent sighs. "Theo thought she could tack something onto the end of the Harvest, a rite to bind the connection to one person, so the ancestors wouldn't have control over all of us like they did before. They'd only have access to this person, this—this Advocate." He scoffs and turns his back to Hope once more. "But word's spreadin' fast. Theo's been fumin' all night and all morning. She can't feel the ancestors any more than the rest of us. There is no Advocate." He leans heavily on the altar, head bowed. "We're screwed. I could've told her it wouldn't work—"

"It did."

"—but she didn't come to me, decided to make this whole mess on her own—"

"It did work."

Vincent stops his tirade to look back at Hope, who looks tiny at the far end of the nave. "What're you talking about?"

It all makes sense. The dream. The voices. The excruciating pain right after the Harvest was completed. The nosebleed. Hope stares a thousand miles away as all of the pieces click into place. "Vincent, the rite did work, but not for Theo." She takes a deep breath. "It's me." She meets his eyes, watches shock dawn across his face. "I'm the Advocate."

The twelfth episode, "I Might Seem So Strong," is already available on the Tumblr blog peopleandrhythm at this time.