Maya couldn't tell how much time had passed since she first stirred awake, her watch and her phone were missing, and there were no windows so she couldn't even track the sun or tell what time of day it was. Kamala's eyelids fluttered open, her face a mask of grogginess that quickly morphed into wide-eyed terror as the memory of their situation slammed back into her consciousness. Maya was by her side in an instant, helping her sit up, her hands gentle but trembling slightly as she murmured words of comfort, though the fear in the room was nearly suffocating. The walls seemed to close in, the silence pressing down on them like a physical weight.

That silence was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps, heavy and deliberate, followed by the slow creak of the door swinging open. Three figures entered, casting long shadows across the dimly lit room—two men and a woman. The men, towering and stone-faced, took up positions on either side of the door, their broad shoulders and stern expressions making it clear they were there to enforce, not negotiate. The woman, however, moved differently, her steps deliberate and her gaze sharp as she crossed the room with a confidence that sent a chill down Maya's spine.

She stopped in front of them, her presence dominating the small space. In her arms, she cradled a sleek laptop, which she opened with quick, practiced movements. Her face remained unreadable as she tapped a few keys, her focus unyielding. Then, without a word, she turned the screen toward Maya and Kamala.

Maya's breath caught in her throat as her father's face appeared on the screen, his features tense, his eyes flashing with barely controlled fury. Yet beneath that anger, Maya could see the fear—the same fear she felt now, gnawing at her insides.

"Maya, are you okay? Are you hurt?" His voice, though steady, was laced with an undercurrent of desperation that only she could detect.

"I'm okay, we're both okay," Maya responded, doing her best to keep her voice calm, though her heart pounded in her chest.

The woman's expression hardened as she passed the laptop to one of the guards, her grip on Maya tightening as she yanked her to her feet with a force that made Maya wince. But she refused to show any more weakness, standing tall even as her arm throbbed from the rough treatment.

"Hold your right hand up so he can see it," the woman commanded, her tone brooking no argument, as cold and sharp as the blade she would soon reveal.

Maya hesitated for a heartbeat, her mind racing with thoughts of defiance. But before she could decide, her father's voice cut through the tension, firm yet tinged with fear.

"Do as they say sweetheart."

The familiar nickname struck her like a blow, stirring a mixture of resolve and dread within her. Reluctantly, Maya raised her right hand, making sure it was visible to the camera. On the screen, she saw a woman standing next to her father do the same, her expression eerily calm.

Then, with chilling precision, that woman drew a knife and slashed it across her own palm. Maya's breath caught as a sharp pain exploded in her hand, the skin tearing in the exact same spot and manner as the woman's. She bit down hard on her lip, stifling a cry as blood began to trickle down her wrist. The pain was intense, but the terror that twisted her stomach into knots was far worse.

From the laptop, the woman's voice emanated.

"Your daughter is linked to me; we control her life. We can keep her safe, or we can end it. If you don't help us, take down Marcel, so help me, Maya won't live long enough to see you again."

Before Maya could react, before her father could even form a reply, the woman holding Maya gave a curt nod to the man with the laptop. In an instant, he snapped it shut, cutting off the connection and plunging the room into a silence so thick it was almost tangible.

Maya's hand throbbed with every beat of her heart, the blood warm as it seeped between her fingers, but the physical pain was a dull ache compared to the dread that now lodged itself in the pit of her stomach. She glanced at Kamala, who was pale and trembling, her fear mirrored in Maya's own wide eyes. They were trapped in a nightmare of power and threats, caught in a web of control that left no room for escape.

Maya swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat as she faced the woman who had so casually inflicted pain on her.

"Who are you?"

The woman's gaze was steely, her voice as cold as her eyes.

"Jane-Anne Deveraux."

"Why are you doing this?" Maya's voice wavered despite her efforts to stay strong.

Jane-Anne's expression didn't change, her tone remaining detached as she spoke.

"It's nothing personal. Marcel stands in our way, and your father is the only one who can take him down and get back what he took from us."

Maya's heart twisted as she thought of Kamala, still trembling on the floor of their prison.

"Then why take Kamala? You don't need her; you already have me. Let her go. Please."

A flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—passed through Jane-Anne's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"We took her for the same reason we took you," she replied, her voice as cold as ever. "As long as we have you, your father will behave himself and play by our rules. And as long as we have Kamala, you'll do the same."

"Let her go. I promise I won't do anything—just let Kamala go, please!"

Jane-Anne's expression remained unreadable as she considered Maya's plea.

"Once we have what we want, you'll both be free to leave, until then I suggest stay on your best behaviour, unless you want your friend to pay the price."


As the feed abruptly cut off, Klaus felt a surge of fury so intense it nearly consumed him. Every instinct screamed at him to grab the witch standing next to him, Sophie Deveraux, and shake her until the screen flickered back to life, until he could see his daughter again. But he knew better. Sophie had just demonstrated with cruel precision the danger of harming her, a danger that would befall Maya with equal measure. The thought of his daughter suffering because of him, of being the cause of her pain, was unbearable. He'd die a thousand times over before allowing that to happen.

Sophie's voice cut through his inner turmoil her tone unyielding.

"You've seen our cards," she said, her eyes hard. "Now will you agree to do as we ask?"

Klaus's mind whirled, calculating his next move. No, he wouldn't give in. He couldn't choose between his son and his daughter—his family were everything, and the thought of losing any of them was unthinkable. But he had to buy time, to find a way to outmanoeuvre these witches without sacrificing anyone he loved. For now, he needed to play along, to give them the illusion that he was on their side.

"On one condition," Klaus said, his voice smooth, deceptively calm.

Sophie's eyes narrowed.

"We'll release Maya and Kamala to you once we have what we want and not before."

"Yes, so you said," Klaus replied, his gaze never leaving hers. "That's not my condition."

"Then what?" Sophie demanded, suspicion creeping into her voice.

"You, Sophie Deveraux," Klaus said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You are my condition. You will stay with us—my siblings and I."

Sophie's composure wavered, but only for a moment.

"No, not possible. Not if we want to pull this off."

Klaus's smile was cold, devoid of warmth.

"It wasn't a request, Sophie. As you just demonstrated, what happens to you happens to Maya. Therefore, you will stay with me and my siblings. You will not stray from our sight until Maya and Kamala are returned to us, and you have unlinked yourself from my daughter."

Agnes, who had been silently observing, stepped forward, her tone icy.

"No. Sophie stays with us, with the coven. We will protect her, and by extension, your daughter."

Klaus's expression hardened, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Let's just say I don't trust you anymore than you trust me. You have your hostages; I'll have mine. We'll all play along nicely. Once I've accomplished what you ask, we'll exchange our hostages and leave each other in peace. How does that sound?"

Agnes bristled.

"We have your daughter. You will do as we say."

"As I've agreed," Klaus replied, his voice dripping with cold menace. "But I want some assurances. If Sophie is harmed, then so is Maya. And you humans, even the witchy ones, are awfully fragile."

Sophie shot Agnes a glance, her resolve weakening under the weight of Klaus's threat. Finally, Agnes relented, though her face was a mask of fury.

"Fine, Sophie stays with you."

A triumphant smile curled on Klaus's lips.

"Excellent, glad to see we're able to come to an accord. Come along, Sophie, love," he said, his voice mockingly affectionate. "You can explain this plan of yours to my siblings and me in more comfortable surroundings."

Sophie stiffened, her defiance flaring up once more.

"You can't force me to go anywhere with you."

Klaus's eyes gleamed with dark amusement.

"As it so happens, I can."

Without another word, Klaus reached out and seized Sophie's wrist with an iron grip, activating the portkey he'd been given. The air around them shimmered, and in an instant, they were no longer standing in the tense, witch-filled room but at the entrance of the Plantation House. The grand, imposing structure loomed before them, its shadow casting an eerie stillness over the surrounding grounds.

Sophie yanked her wrist out of Klaus's grasp, her eyes blazing with anger, but Klaus merely smirked, his gaze fixed on the house.

"Welcome to our humble abode," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now, let's have a little chat about this plan of yours, shall we?"


As the heavy door clicked shut behind their captors, the room seemed to shrink around them, the silence thick and oppressive. Kamala's voice trembled as she whispered,

"What do we do?"

Maya quickly shook her head, her eyes wide with caution. She raised a finger to her ear, signalling for silence. The threat of being overheard was real, and they couldn't afford to take any chances. Without a word, Maya reached for the electric lantern in the corner, its faint glow casting eerie shadows on the walls as she carried it over. She settled down in front of Kamala, their faces close, their expressions tense.

"They could be listening," Maya signed with quick, deliberate movements, her eyes locking onto Kamala's to ensure she understood.

Kamala nodded her fear palpable.

"We do as she said," Maya said aloud in case they were listening in. "Klaus will do what they want, and then they'll let us go."

But her hands continued to move, silently conveying a different message.

"My family will be looking for us," she signed. "I doubt these people know the full extent of the hornet's nest they've kicked. The Aurors, the Horde, my dad, my aunts and uncles—they'll all be searching for us."

"As long as we behave, they won't harm us," Maya added aloud, her voice steady but her fingers betraying a different plan.

Kamala's eyes flickered with a mix of hope and scepticism.

"So, we just wait to be rescued?" she signed back, her fingers moving carefully in the dim light.

Maya's gaze hardened.

"We'll be okay, right?" Kamala asked aloud, following Maya's lead at keeping their pretence of a verbal conversation going.

"No." Maya signed back. "We gather information, and we plan our escape. Stick to signing—they could have listening spells in here, and we don't know what languages they understand."

Kamala's fear was evident, but she managed a small nod.

"We'll be fine," Maya assured her aloud, her voice soft. But her hands continued their silent conversation. "Klaus won't let anything happen to us."

Kamala's fingers hesitated before signing the question that weighed heavily on her mind.

"How?"

Maya glanced down at the dirt floor beneath them.

"The floor is mostly dirt," she signed, her hands moving with determination. "But there are rocks embedded in it. If we find one large enough, it could serve as another weapon."

Kamala's eyes widened slightly.

"Another?"

Maya nodded her expression fierce.

"The chains. If only one person comes in, I can use the chains to take them down. If it's two, you'll need a weapon as well—something to knock them out with."

Kamala's heart raced as she considered the risks.

"You could trigger your curse," concern etched on her face.

Maya's eyes softened, but her resolve didn't waver.

"It was bound to happen at some point," she signed back, her movements steady despite the gravity of her words. "Besides, it will be worth it to save you. You're only in this because of me."

Kamala's fingers moved with urgency as she responded.

"I'm in this because of them. They kidnapped us. It wasn't your fault."

"We'll get out together." Maya promised.

"What do we do once we're out? They'll come after us and we don't know where we are. If we're even still in Washington."

"We find a place to hole up and a phone. Then I call Agent LaSalle and Agent Blye. They'll be able to track our location and they'll be able to get to us quicker than anyone else."

"Together."

"Together."

Maya squeezed Kamala's hand in silent reassurance, the warmth of the gesture a stark contrast to the cold, grim reality surrounding them. The lantern's light flickered, casting long, wavering shadows on the walls, but in that moment, the two friends were united in their determination. They wouldn't just wait for rescue—they would fight for it. Together.


Sophie was forcibly led through the dimly lit corridors of the old house, the grip on her arm firm yet oddly careful. There was no mistaking the strength behind it, nor the underlying threat it carried. She had no illusions about this being for her benefit—if anything, she was certain the connection between her and Maya was the only thing sparing her from Klaus's wrath right now. The hallways seemed to stretch endlessly, their shadows twisting in ways that made Sophie's pulse quicken with dread. When they finally reached a small, brightly lit room, Klaus shoved her into a chair and went to lean against the wall opposite.

Inside the room, three figures loomed, their eyes fixed on her with varying degrees of contempt and anger. Two men stood close together, both with an air of authority that matched the descriptions she'd been given. Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus's older brother and by all accounts the most noble of the Mikaelsons, Sophie had heard it said that if Elijah gave his word, he would keep it, always. Next to him was Damon Salvatore, Maya's godfather or adoptive father, she wasn't sure which, she didn't know as much about him, but she'd been warned he could be unpredictable. But it was the woman who drew Sophie's attention, an unfamiliar face framed by dark, sleek hair. This wasn't Rebekah Mikaelson, nor did she fit the descriptions of any other women Sophie had been briefed on.

Expecting Klaus or Elijah to take the lead, Sophie was caught off guard when the woman stepped forward, her presence commanding yet eerily calm.

"Sophie Deveraux," the woman began, her voice laced with a dangerous calm. "Born February 16th, 1985. Graduated from Lusher Charter School in 2003, followed by the Louisiana Culinary Institute in 2005. Then you embarked on a globe-trotting adventure, only to return to New Orleans nine months ago. One older sister—Jane-Anne Deveraux. One niece, Monique Deveraux, whose throat was slit during a failed Harvest ritual three months ago."

Sophie's breath hitched, her blood running cold as the woman recited details of her life with chilling accuracy. But it was the mention of Monique that struck like a physical blow, forcing the air from Sophie's lungs. The memory was a haunting spectre, the image of Monique's blood staining her hands, the light fading from her eyes—a nightmare that refused to fade.

"Who are you?" Sophie's voice trembled despite her effort to remain defiant. "How do you know so much about me?"

"I'm Special Agent Kensi Blye, NCIS." The woman's words were sharp as knives. "I'm one of the people hunting down the two young girls you and your sister had kidnapped."

Sophie's heart sank. She had warned Jane-Anne that this was a terrible idea, just as she had opposed the Harvest ritual. But her sister's desperation to bring Monique back had blinded her to reason, driving them both down this dark path.

"Look, it wasn't my idea," Sophie stammered, her gaze shifting to Klaus, who stood like a predator waiting to pounce. "But I was telling the truth earlier—if you help us take down Marcel, you'll get both girls back unharmed."

Agent Blye's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing in a way that made Sophie's blood turn to ice.

"Miss Deveraux, do you grasp the gravity of your situation? You're involved in the abduction of two fourteen-year-olds, transporting them across state lines. That's a twenty-year sentence per child, at the very least. And that's before we start adding on charges."

Sophie swallowed her throat dry.

"This is witch and vampire business," she protested weakly. "It will never go to court."

Blye's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

"Your choices are simple: prison, or I hand you over to Maya's family to exact their own justice. You're not walking away from this, so help yourself by helping us."

Sophie clung to the only lifeline she thought she had.

"You can't do anything to me while Maya and I are linked," she said, her voice wavering. "Neither can they."

Klaus's eyes flashed with a fury that made Sophie's heart skip a beat. He stepped closer, his voice a low, menacing growl.

"You won't be linked forever," he promised, the venom in his words palpable. "And when you're not, I'll ensure you're handed over to us. I intend to make such an example of you that no one will even think of touching my daughter again. Did you really believe you could use her—use me—and face no consequences?"

Elijah, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke, his tone measured but cold.

"Miss Deveraux, I strongly suggest you start talking. Only then might we consider the option of prison for you."

Sophie's defiance crumbled as the weight of her choices pressed down on her. The room seemed to close in, the walls whispering of her impending doom. She had only one chance left—to speak, and perhaps, somehow, survive.

"What do you want to know?" Her voice was shaky, the resolve she had clung to slipping away.

"Where are Maya and Kamala being held?" Agent Blye's tone was unyielding, her eyes fixed on Sophie with an intensity that brooked no deception.

"I don't know," Sophie admitted, her voice almost a whisper. She could feel the tension in the room spike, the unspoken threat of what might happen if they didn't believe her. "Jane-Anne decided it was best I didn't know. Between Marcel and you," her gaze darted nervously between the three vampires, "she thought it was safer if I only knew what was necessary to play my part."


Marcel made his way into St. Anne's, the familiar weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. The church, usually a place of solace, now felt heavy with the impending storm. Marcel climbed the creaky stairs to the attic, where the young girl who had quickly become the most important person in his life was staying. He had sworn to protect her, and right now, this place was the safest he could manage, though he knew it wouldn't be enough for long.

He pushed open the attic door and stepped inside, a soft smile on his lips despite the turmoil raging in his mind.

"Hey, Little D. I assume it's all quiet out there?"

Davina, seated by the window, turned to him, her young face a mix of concentration and concern.

"No one's doing magic inside the city limits."

Marcel frowned, sensing there was more.

"Inside?"

"I can feel someone," she said, her voice tinged with unease. "They're outside the city, but still close."

Marcel's brow furrowed deeper.

"How close? Do you know where they are?"

Davina shook her head, frustration flashing in her eyes.

"I can't pinpoint it. I can't see their faces. It's not N'aw-lins magic; they're not calling on the Ancestors. But…" She trailed off and handed Marcel a piece of paper.

Marcel's breath caught in his throat as he looked at the drawing Davina had made. The house depicted on the page was one he recognized all too well. It was a place he hadn't visited or even thought about in over two hundred years—a house steeped in memories he had long buried. It was the last place he would have expected Klaus to be. But if this was where he had chosen to hide, then something truly dire was afoot.

Marcel's mind raced. He could storm the house, demand answers from Klaus, but he knew better. Klaus was a master manipulator, and direct confrontation would likely yield little truth. No, it would be better to investigate quietly, gather information on his own. Only then could he figure out the full scope of what was happening.

"Thanks, D," he said, his voice softer now as he tucked the drawing away.

Davina's eyes searched his face, worry etched into her young features.

"Marcel, is it true the Old Ones have returned to the city?"

Marcel sighed, meeting her gaze with a seriousness that belied the calm he was trying to project.

"At least one of them, yeah."

Davina's concern deepened.

"They're dangerous, I don't want them to hurt you."

A warmth spread through Marcel's chest at her words. Despite everything, Davina's protective instincts were as strong as ever. He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

"The Originals? Davina, as powerful as you are, they don't stand a chance."

But the humour in his words didn't completely dispel the tension in the room. They both knew the truth—the Originals were a force to be reckoned with, and whatever game Klaus was playing, it was dangerous. But Marcel wasn't about to let anyone, not even the most powerful beings in history, harm the girl he'd vowed to protect.

He placed a reassuring hand on Davina's shoulder.

"I'll be careful, okay? But don't worry about me. Just keep doing what you do best—keeping an eye on things. We'll figure this out."

Davina nodded, though the worry didn't leave her eyes. Marcel turned to leave, determination hardening his resolve. He had to find out what Klaus was up to—and fast—before the city he loved was torn apart.