"We've got a location," Agent Pride announced, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere in the briefing room. The agents gathered around the table; the air thick with anticipation as they turned their attention to Pride. His usually calm demeanour was sharpened with urgency, his eyes scanning the faces of the team members who were ready to move at a moment's notice.

"LaSalle, you and Perry will join Agent Hanna and Agent Callen," Pride continued, his voice steady but charged with the weight of the mission ahead. "Your primary objective is to enter the location, contain any hostiles, and secure the girls. We need to move quickly, efficiently. There's no room for error. Those girls' lives depend on it."

LaSalle nodded; his jaw set with determination. Perry, standing beside him, adjusted the strap of her gear, her face a mask of focus. Across the table, Hanna and Callen exchanged a brief glance, a silent communication passing between them, forged through years of working together under pressure.

Pride continued, his gaze now sweeping across the room, ensuring each person understood the gravity of their roles.

"Once it's confirmed that the girls are safe," he said, his voice lowering slightly, the intensity of the moment pressing down on everyone in the room, "myself, Agent Blye, and Detective Deeks will lead the secondary team, along with units from the FBI."

There was a brief pause as Pride allowed his words to settle in, the gravity of the operation hanging heavily in the air. He then added,

"I, along with Agent Gregorio have personally vetted The FBI teams. No leaks, no surprises. We move in fast and hard to arrest all suspects. We'll cut off any chance they have of slipping through our fingers."

Blye and Deeks, standing near the door, shared a look of steely resolve. Blye tightened her ponytail, her movements precise, almost mechanical, as she mentally prepared for the task ahead. Deeks, normally the one to lighten the mood with a quip or two, was uncharacteristically silent, his blue eyes dark with the seriousness of the mission.

"The intel we've received suggests we won't meet much resistance," Pride continued. "But we can't rely on that being the case. Expect the worst and be ready for anything. We have to be smart about this—no unnecessary risks. Our number one priority is getting those girls out alive and unharmed."

He paused, letting his gaze linger on each agent, ensuring they understood the stakes.

"This is it, people," Pride said, his voice low but commanding. "We've got one shot at this. Let's make it count."

With that, the room erupted into action, all of them were ready to bring the girl's home.


"Who disssturbss my sssssssleep?" The voice was deep and resonant, each word drawn out in a slow, deliberate hiss that seemed to vibrate through the very air around them.

Maya swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm despite the primal fear that threatened to take hold. She bowed her head slightly, speaking in the same serpentine tongue, her voice respectful and steady.

"I'm sorry, great one, I did not mean to wake you. I was just trying to find someone who could help my friend and I."

The giant serpent's eyes narrowed slightly, its immense head lowering until it was almost level with Maya's face.

"Ssssisssster?" it hissed, its breath warm and slightly damp, smelling of the swamp and something ancient.

The snake moved closer still, its body undulating with immense power. Its long, forked tongue flicked out, brushing lightly against Maya's skin as it tasted the air around her. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, but she held her ground, meeting its gaze with a calm she didn't entirely feel.

"No… What issss your name, little one?" the snake rumbled, its voice filled with a curious, almost gentle authority.

"Maya. Maya Lucinda Potter," she replied, her voice firm yet reverent.

The snake seemed to ponder this, its eyes narrowing slightly.

"I can tasssste my ssssisssster upon you, Maya. You are one of her favoured onessss," it said, its tone shifting to one of recognition and almost affection. "I will help you and your friend."

Relief flooded through Maya, a wave of calm that washed away the tension that had been gripping her since they first set foot in the bayou. The fact that they weren't about to be devoured by the massive snake she'd accidentally awakened was a huge relief, but even more reassuring was the realization that they now had a powerful ally. With him by their side, their dangerous trek through the bayou had just become infinitely safer.

"Thank you, great one," Maya said, bowing her head slightly in respect.

"You may call me Jormy, little Maya," the massive snake replied, his voice a low, resonant hiss that seemed to hum through the ground beneath their feet. "How may I help you?"

Maya took a deep breath, steadying herself.

"People took us. They stole us from our caregivers. We need to get to the city, to New Orleans, so we can call them, and they can come to us."

Jormy's golden eyes gleamed with understanding.

"I will take you," he said, lowering his enormous head until it rested flat against the ground. His scales glistened in the dappled light each one as large as a shield. "You and your friend ssssshould ride upon my back. It will be much fassster that way."

Maya turned to Kamala, trying to keep her voice calm and encouraging.

"He wants us to climb on his back."

Kamala's eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the colossal serpent before them.

"Maya, I'm pretty sure that snake is bigger than the freaking A-train. No way am I climbing on its back."

Maya couldn't help but smile at her friend's reaction.

"He's called Jormy, and if we get on his back, we won't have to walk all the way to the city," she coaxed, knowing the prospect of a quicker journey would appeal to Kamala despite her initial reluctance.

Kamala's expression was a mix of resignation and exasperation.

"I hate you," she muttered, though there was no real venom in her words.

"No, you don't," Maya replied with a laugh, the sound light and relieving in the tension of the moment. She moved toward Jormy, reaching up to touch one of his massive scales. It was surprisingly smooth and warm under her hand, and she felt a strange connection, as though Jormy were not just a serpent, but something much older and wiser.

"Come on," Maya said, turning back to Kamala with a grin. "I'll give you a boost."

Kamala hesitated for a moment longer, glancing between Maya and Jormy, before finally sighing in defeat.

"Fine, but if we die, I'm haunting you."

Maya laughed again, this time with more confidence.

"Deal."

With that, Maya cupped her hands together, giving Kamala a boost up onto Jormy's broad back. The snake's immense body was like a living hill, its scales smooth and warm under Kamala's touch. Jormy remained perfectly still, his massive form steady as Kamala found her footing. Once she was settled, Maya followed, climbing up with a determined grace. She positioned herself in front of Kamala, their combined weight barely noticeable on Jormy's enormous frame.

"Wrap your arms around my waist and hold on tight," Maya instructed, her voice steady despite the underlying tension. She gripped one of Jormy's thick, scaled ridges with both hands, the rough texture providing a reassuring anchor. Kamala obeyed, her arms encircling Maya's waist, her head nestling against Maya's back, seeking comfort and safety.

Jormy lifted his massive head slightly, his golden eyes gleaming with an ancient intelligence. He could sense their readiness, the silent determination that emanated from the two young women perched upon his back.

"I will take you to ssssomeone who can advisssse ussss on where to go in the city to find the help you sssseeek," Jormy hissed softly, his voice a deep, soothing rumble that vibrated through the air and into their bones. "Hold fassst, little onessss."

And then, with a fluid grace that belied his enormous size, Jormy began to move. His body undulated smoothly, each powerful coil propelling them forward with surprising speed. The ground beneath them seemed to blur as Jormy glided through the dense bayou, his path cutting effortlessly through the thick underbrush and muddy terrain. The swamp, once a maze of dangers and uncertainty, now passed by in a rush of green and brown as they sped toward their destination.

The sensation was nothing short of exhilarating. The wind whipped through Maya's hair, tugging at loose strands and cooling the sweat on her skin. The rhythm of Jormy's movement were hypnotic, a steady, rolling motion that made it feel almost as if they were flying rather than slithering through the dense swamp. For the first time since their ordeal began, Maya allowed herself to relax, just a little. The tension in her shoulders eased as she realized they were finally moving toward safety.

Kamala's grip tightened around Maya's waist; her head still buried against her back. Though Maya could feel Kamala's fear in the way she clung to her, she also sensed the same flicker of hope that she herself was feeling. They were no longer alone, no longer helpless. With Jormy's help, they were making their way toward civilization, toward the people who could protect them.

As the swamp blurred by, Maya's thoughts turned to what lay ahead. They still had a long journey before them, but for the first time, she felt certain that they would make it. Jormy was their guide, their protector, and with him, they just might reach New Orleans—and the safety that awaited them there.


The house they'd been given as the supposed location where the girls were being held matched their expectations—nestled deep within the bayou, far from prying eyes and safely outside of werewolf territory. The single-story structure, though aged and weather-beaten, stood with a quiet resilience, its wooden walls grey and splintered from years of enduring the elements. The place exuded an unsettling calm, as if the very air was holding its breath in anticipation of the intruders. Only two doors led inside, both shrouded in the growing shadows of dusk, casting long, ominous silhouettes that seemed to whisper of hidden dangers within.

Sam crouched at the front, his pulse steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him, with Callen a mere breath away, their movements synchronized in the practiced manner of seasoned operatives. Meanwhile, LaSalle and Percy moved with equal precision, circling around the back to ensure no one slipped away unseen.

Their thermal imaging had detected only three distinct heat signatures inside, a discrepancy that set alarm bells ringing in Sam's mind. Intelligence had indicated at least five individuals, but the bayou's dense humidity and thick walls could easily muddle the readings. The thought of a trap lingered at the edge of his mind, a gnawing doubt that he ruthlessly pushed aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"In position," Agent LaSalle's voice crackled softly through the earpiece, his tone low and controlled, a reflection of the tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud.

"Move in," Sam commanded, his voice hard as steel, cutting through the stillness.

With a swift, powerful kick, Callen splintered the front door. The wood gave way with a sharp, echoing crack, and they surged forward as one, guns raised, eyes scanning every shadowed corner of the dimly lit interior. The scent of old wood and mildew hit them, mingling with the earthy aroma of the bayou that seeped through the cracks in the walls. Behind them, LaSalle and Percy mirrored their actions, their footfalls a rhythmic counterpart to Sam and Callen's own.

A man stumbled out of a room on the left, his face twisted in shock and anger, but before Sam or Callen could even shout a command, his hands were already in the air, surrendering to the inevitable.

"Get down!" Sam barked, his voice a whip of authority. "Face down on the ground, now!"

The man complied, dropping to the floor with a defeated thud. Callen was on him in an instant, securing his wrists with zip ties, the plastic biting into the man's skin with a harsh finality.

"Clear," Callen confirmed, his voice steady as he moved on.

"Clear," echoed LaSalle and Percy over the comms, as they methodically cleared the rooms at the back of the house.

"One hostile secured," Sam relayed, his tone clipped as he and Callen moved deeper into the house. Another man awaited them in the room the first had emerged from, already kneeling on the floor, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, and a nasty gash on the side of his head oozed blood, matting his hair and giving him a dazed, almost ghostly appearance.

"Second hostile secured," Sam reported, his voice a low rumble as Callen efficiently zip-tied the man's wrists.

"Moving forward," he added, the words punctuated by the tense silence that followed them through the narrow hallway.

Each room they passed was a study in calculated emptiness—minimal furniture, surfaces wiped clean, as if the place had been maintained for just such an occasion. The air was thick with the sense of things left unsaid, of secrets hidden behind the thin, peeling walls.

They came to a door splintered around the lock, as if it had been forced open in haste. Inside, the cistern's lid was cracked, and a small pool of blood gleamed darkly on the floor, a stark contrast to the otherwise sterile environment. Sam's mind pieced together the scene with grim efficiency, but he forced himself to remain focused, pushing back assumptions until every inch of the house was secured.

"Clear," Sam reported again, the word carrying a weight of unease as he moved on.

"Third hostile secured," LaSalle's voice came through, the slight edge in his tone a reflection of the growing tension.

"Copy," Sam responded, his heartbeat a steady drumbeat in his chest as they pressed forward.

The final rooms offered more of the same—emptiness and silence, the sterile nature of each space only amplifying the sense of something amiss. When they finally converged with LaSalle and Percy in the centre of the house, the frustration was palpable.

"All clear," Callen announced, his voice laced with a sharp edge of irritation. "The girls aren't here."

Percy frowned, her sharp eyes sweeping the room once more, as if by sheer will, she could summon the missing girls from the shadows.

"We've got Jane-Anne Deveraux," LaSalle reported, his voice grim. "Unconscious with a bandage wrapped around her knee, and a pool of blood in another room that I'd bet my badge belongs to her."

"We've got two men," Callen added, his voice taut with frustration. "One's untouched, but the other looks like someone used his head for target practice, and there's blood in the bathroom."

"You think someone else attacked and took the girls?" Percy's question hung in the air, laden with concern.

Sam shook his head slowly, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No," he said, his voice carrying the weight of certainty. "I'm pretty sure they escaped on their own. If we unwrap that bandage on Jane-Anne's knee, I'd bet we'd find a stab wound right between the knee and shin bone."

Percy's brows knitted together in confusion.

"And what makes you so sure?"

"Because I taught Maya to aim there if she was ever attacked," Sam replied, his tone unyielding. "It incapacitates the attacker. No way they can follow with an injury like that."

"If they did escape, they're out there in the bayou somewhere," Percy said, her voice tinged with unease. "And that's no place for kids who don't know what they're doing."

"Maya's probably got a better handle on the bayou than most folks 'round here," LaSalle interjected, his voice carrying a note of reassurance. "Especially given her… unique abilities."

Sam nodded, though his expression remained serious.

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't look for them. We don't know when they escaped or how far they've gotten."

Callen's gaze locked onto LaSalle, sharp with intent.

"LaSalle, can you find their tracks and follow them?"

"I'll try," LaSalle responded, the weight of the task clear in his voice.

"Alright," Callen said decisively, his tone brooking no argument. "Sam, you go with LaSalle. Percy, call Pride and give him an update. Then start going through this house, just in case we're wrong and they didn't escape on their own. I'll see what I can get out of the two men we captured. Stay sharp and stay in contact."

With their plan set, the team moved into action, each step measured and purposeful, driven by the unspoken determination to find the girls before the bayou's dark embrace could claim them.


Jormy slithered through the dense bayou with unerring precision, eventually bringing them to a small clearing nestled deep within the swamp. The clearing was ringed with weathered cabins, their wood darkened by time and moisture, and a fire crackled in the centre, sending tendrils of smoke spiralling up into the dense canopy above. As Jormy burst into the clearing, the few people gathered around the fire scattered in alarm, disappearing into the shadows of the trees. All except for one.

A lone woman remained by the fire, standing tall and unflinching as she faced down the massive serpent with an air of quiet confidence. Her gaze was steady, betraying not a hint of fear as she locked eyes with Jormy. Slowly, she shifted her attention to the two girls perched on the snake's back, her expression inscrutable.

"Hello," the woman greeted them calmly, her voice smooth and steady, as if giant snakes and unexpected visitors were an everyday occurrence.

"Thissss issss Eve, Little Maya." Jormy hissed in Parseltongue, his voice a deep, resonant hum in her ears. "Sssshe issss the one who can help you."

Maya, still awed by the presence of the giant serpent beneath her, managed to find her voice.

"Hi. Jormy says you can help us."

The woman—Eve—raised an eyebrow, casting a sidelong glance at Jormy. Then, to Maya's surprise, she replied in flawless Parseltongue.

"What do you need help with?"

Maya blinked, momentarily taken aback by Eve's ability to speak the serpent tongue.

"Witches kidnapped us. We escaped, but I need a phone to call someone who can help us. I asked Jormy to take us into the city, to New Orleans, but he brought us here instead. He said you'd know the best place to go to find help."

Eve studied them both with sharp, assessing eyes, her expression giving nothing away. After a moment, she nodded, the decision made. Without a word, she approached Jormy's side, her movements fluid and confident. She reached up and pulled herself onto the snake's back with practiced ease, settling in behind Kamala.

"You know where to go," she said simply to Jormy, who responded with a subtle dip of his head before beginning to move once more.

This time, their journey was shorter, the surroundings changing rapidly as Jormy glided through the bayou with the precision of a well-honed blade. When they finally came to a stop, they were in another clearing, this one at the edge of a road. A couple of trucks were parked nearby, their worn exteriors hinting at years of rough use.

Eve slid off Jormy's back and turned to face the girls, her expression unreadable.

"Get down," she instructed. "I'll take you into the city, as far as I can go, and give you directions to someone who can help you."

Kamala slid off first, her movements stiff and cautious, followed by Maya. The moment Maya's feet touched the ground, Jormy began to shrink, his massive form diminishing until he was small enough that Maya could pick him up. Not that she needed to, he slid up her body of his own accord and wrapped around her shoulders like a living scarf.

Eve didn't seem the least bit surprised by the sudden shift. Instead, she walked over to one of the trucks and opened the door with a creak.

"Get in," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Maya and Kamala exchanged a glance, hesitation flickering between them. Sensing their uncertainty, Jormy's voice whispered in Maya's ear.

"It's okay, little Maya. You can trust Eve. She's one of my favoured ones."

In his smaller form, there was a lot less sibilance to Jormy's words. Taking a deep breath, Maya nodded to Kamala and led the way to the truck. She climbed in first, sliding into the middle seat next to Eve, her hand slipping into her pocket to wrap around the handle of the knife she'd taken from the house. Kamala followed, taking the seat closest to the door, which she pulled shut with a solid click.

"Seatbelts on," Eve ordered, starting the truck with a rumble. As the engine came to life, she pulled out onto the narrow road, the truck bouncing slightly on the uneven ground.

"I'll take you as far as Treme, but you'll have to make your own way into the French Quarter," Eve said, her eyes focused on the road ahead.

"Why can't you go any further?" Maya asked, her curiosity piqued.

"The vampires and the French Quarter witches exiled the werewolves from the city years ago," Eve explained, her voice matter-of-fact. "I can risk going into Treme, but I can't go any further than that."

"Why were you exiled?" Kamala asked, her voice tentative but filled with genuine curiosity.

"My pack is cursed," Eve replied, her tone darkening slightly. "We spend most of the month as wolves, only turning human on the full moon. The witches enacted the curse, and the vampires drove us out of the city. They wouldn't risk one of us triggering it and turning on them at any moment."

Maya frowned, the weight of Eve's words settling heavily on her.

"If werewolves, even untriggered ones, aren't allowed in the city, then what will they do to me?"

Eve glanced at her; her eyes sharp but not unkind.

"You'll be fine. Marcel has rules, and one of them is no killing kids. If you run into any of his guys, that should protect you."

"Who's Marcel?" Maya asked, recalling the name from her earlier conversation with the witches. "The witches who took us mentioned him. They said he'd taken something from them and that only Klaus could take him down. That's why they took us."

"Klaus…" Eve repeated, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Klaus Mikaelson, the Hybrid?"

"Yeah," Maya confirmed, her curiosity piqued by Eve's reaction.

"Marcel is the king of the vampires in New Orleans," Eve explained, her voice tinged with a mix of respect and caution. "Klaus sired him centuries ago. Rumour has it that Klaus took him in as a boy, raised him, and eventually turned him into a vampire."

"Huh," Maya muttered, processing the new information.

"I hadn't heard anything about trouble between Marcel and the witches," Eve continued, "but I avoid the city as much as possible. So, why did the witches take you? Why did they think that would give them leverage over Klaus Mikaelson?"

"It's complicated," Maya replied, her voice guarded.

Eve nodded, understanding the reluctance to share too much.

"It's fine if you don't want to tell me. I understand how hard it is to trust people, especially strangers." She turned her attention back to the road, her gaze steady. "I'll drop you off as close to the French Quarter as I can. Once you're there, you want to head to St. Anne's Church. It's on St. Ann Street. Try to avoid Jackson Square—lots of witches tend to gather there."

"St. Anne's Church on St. Ann Street. Avoid Jackson Square," Maya repeated, committing the directions to memory. "And once we find it?"

"The priest there, Father Kieran, he's a good man. He'll help you," Eve said firmly.

"I really just need a phone," Maya admitted, though she appreciated the offer of further assistance.

"If I had one, I'd give it to you," Eve replied, a hint of regret in her voice. "And if there was anyone else, I trusted to help you without handing you over to the witches or Marcel, I'd take you to them instead of sending you into the French Quarter."

"I thought you said Marcel doesn't hurt kids," Kamala interjected, her voice tinged with anxiety.

"He doesn't," Eve assured them. "But whatever your connection is to Klaus Mikaelson, if Marcel finds out, he might decide to use you himself."

Maya nodded, understanding. It had sucked enough being kidnapped by witches, no way she wanted to be held captive by a vampire her dad once knew. Hopefully with Eve's help – and Jormy's protection – it wouldn't be long before they would be home and safe. As the truck rumbled along the road, Maya's grip on the knife tightened, her resolve hardening. They weren't safe yet, but they were moving forward, and she would protect herself and Kamala from everyone else until they were, be they witches, vampires, werewolves, or even humans.