The storm rolled in at dawn.

Not a real storm—the sky was clear, the sun rising over New Orleans like it had no idea the city was on the brink of war. But Lyja could feel it.

The air was charged, thick with magic, humming beneath her skin. The witches were coming.

And there was no turning back.

Final Preparations

The Mikaelson compound was a flurry of activity when Lyja arrived. Vampires moved in organized chaos, sharpening weapons, reinforcing weak points, and murmuring about battle strategies. Klaus stood at the center of it all, barking out orders with his usual mix of authority and ease.

He turned the moment he sensed her, his sharp blue eyes scanning her face. "You're late."

Lyja rolled her eyes. "It's not like the witches sent an itinerary."

Klaus smirked, but there was something in his gaze—something softer. "Are you ready?"

She exhaled. "As I'll ever be."

A flicker of approval crossed his face before he gestured for her to follow.

They walked toward the war room, where Davina and Marcel were already waiting. The tension was thick the moment Lyja stepped inside. Marcel's gaze flickered over her, as if searching for something in her expression.

She hadn't spoken to him since last night. Since the kiss.

And now wasn't exactly the time to process any of it.

"Alright," Davina said, breaking the silence. "Here's what we know."

She gestured to the map spread out across the table. "The witches have divided their forces. Some will attack the Quarter directly, but others are targeting the ley lines."

Lyja clenched her jaw. "If they reclaim the ley lines, they get their power back."

"Exactly," Davina confirmed. "If we lose those, we lose everything."

Marcel exhaled, nodding. "So we split our people. We keep a stronghold in the Quarter, but we send reinforcements to protect the ley lines."

Klaus leaned against the table, tapping a finger thoughtfully. "It's not enough. We need to hit them before they hit us."

Lyja narrowed her eyes. "And how do you propose we do that?"

Klaus's smirk was sharp. "We take out their leader."

Silence.

Davina hesitated. "Klaus—"

"Don't start," he cut her off smoothly. "We all know this war doesn't end with spells or soldiers. It ends when their leader is dead."

Lyja swallowed hard. He wasn't wrong.

Marcel, however, didn't look convinced. "You're talking about a full-scale assassination."

Klaus grinned. "Oh, Marcel. You say that like it's a bad thing."

Lyja rubbed her temple. "Okay, great. So we kill their leader. But how do we get close enough to do it?"

Davina frowned, flipping through her grimoire. "I might have something. A spell that cloaks a small group in just enough magic to slip past their defenses."

Marcel exhaled. "So we send in a kill squad?"

Klaus's gaze flickered toward Lyja. "Or just one person."

Her stomach dropped.

"No," Marcel said immediately.

Klaus smirked. "Are you telling me no?"

"I'm saying Lyja's not going in alone," Marcel snapped. "That's suicide."

Lyja crossed her arms. "I can speak for myself, you know."

Both men turned to her.

She let out a breath. "I'll do it. But I'm not doing it alone."

Davina sighed. "Then we send two people."

Lyja glanced between them, already knowing where this was going.

Marcel and Klaus.

Of course.

The First Strike

Hours later, the city was too quiet.

Lyja crouched behind an old wrought-iron gate on the outskirts of the Quarter, Marcel to her left, Klaus to her right. The magic from Davina's spell buzzed against her skin, wrapping them in temporary invisibility.

They had one chance to strike before the witches overwhelmed them.

Lyja's pulse pounded. Stay calm.

"You two good?" she whispered.

Marcel smirked. "Always."

Klaus rolled his shoulders. "Just give the signal."

They moved through the abandoned streets, the shadows thick with something unnatural. Lyja could feel the witches' power coiling around them, pressing against the edges of Davina's spell.

The leader of the coven—a tall woman with silver eyes and a presence that made Lyja's blood run cold—stood at the center of the square.

Klaus leaned in close, whispering against her ear. "Do you trust me?"

She barely had time to process the question before he moved.

Fast. Too fast.

His spell-cloaked body blurred forward, and before the witch could react, Klaus drove a dagger straight through her heart.

Lyja's stomach twisted. Too easy.

The witch gasped, eyes widening—

Then smirked.

A pulse of raw magic erupted from her, sending Klaus flying backward.

The spell shattered.

And suddenly, they were exposed.

Marcel cursed. "It's a trap—"

The air exploded.

A shockwave of energy sent Lyja to the ground, her vision spinning.

When she scrambled to her feet, the world was chaos.

Witches swarmed from the shadows, chanting spells that sent bursts of fire and lightning through the air. Vampires clashed with them, steel meeting magic, screams filling the night.

And at the center of it all—

Marcel and Klaus, side by side, fighting like the legends they were.

Lyja's chest ached as she summoned her magic, reinforcing their side of the fight. This is it. This is war.

But deep down, she already knew—

Not everyone would make it out alive.

And that terrified her more than anything.