The air inside the church was thick with tension. Candles flickered on every surface, casting long shadows across the old stone walls. Lyja sat cross-legged on the floor beside Davina, who was flipping through her grimoire with frantic energy. Klaus and Marcel stood at opposite sides of the room, their presence filling the space with an unspoken challenge.

"We don't have time to argue," Davina snapped, her voice sharper than usual. "We have five days before the witches arrive in full force. We need a plan."

Klaus smirked, sipping from a flask he had produced from his coat. "And here I thought we had all the time in the world."

Marcel crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. "We get it, Klaus. You're not scared. But maybe—just maybe—you could focus on the fact that if we don't work together, this city is going to burn."

Klaus's smirk didn't falter, but Lyja could see the flicker of something serious in his eyes. He knew the stakes just as much as they did.

Lyja turned to Davina, ignoring the silent war between the two men. "What are we working with?"

Davina exhaled, pointing to the open pages of her grimoire. "These witches aren't like the ones we've dealt with before. They don't just use ancestral magic—they've tapped into something older, darker. If we're going to fight them, we need more than just spells. We need protection, reinforcements, and a way to cut off their power before they get here."

Klaus leaned forward, intrigued. "Cut off their power, you say?"

Davina nodded. "They're drawing magic from ley lines that run through the city. If we disrupt them, we can weaken them before they arrive."

Marcel frowned. "And how exactly do we disrupt them?"

Davina turned to Lyja. "We use our own magic."

Lyja's stomach tightened. "That's a gamble, Dav."

"I know," Davina admitted, running a hand through her hair. "But it's our best shot."

Klaus sighed, rubbing his temple. "Of course. Let's solve ancient witch problems with more witch problems."

Marcel shot him a glare. "Unless you have a better idea?"

Klaus smirked. "I always have better ideas."

Lyja rolled her eyes. "Then share them, or shut up."

Klaus chuckled, clearly enjoying her irritation. "Fine. We weaken them before they arrive—but we also prepare for the fight they'll bring. Reinforce our defenses, gather allies, make sure every faction in this city knows where they stand."

Marcel nodded. "That's actually a decent plan."

Klaus grinned. "Try not to sound so surprised."

The Plan Takes Shape

They spent the next few hours mapping out their strategy. Davina and Lyja would work on cutting off the witches' power source, placing magical barriers around the ley lines. Klaus and Marcel would rally their respective forces, ensuring the vampires and loyalists of the city were ready for battle.

"There's one more thing," Davina said, her voice hesitant.

Lyja turned to her. "What?"

Davina hesitated before meeting her gaze. "We need blood magic."

The room fell into silence.

Klaus raised an eyebrow. "Now that is interesting."

Marcel frowned. "I don't like the sound of that."

Davina exhaled. "It's not as bad as it sounds. Blood magic strengthens spells—it's the only way we can make sure our barriers hold."

Lyja rubbed her temples. "And whose blood are we using?"

Davina glanced between them. "We all need to contribute."

Marcel groaned. "Great. A blood pact. That always ends well."

Klaus smirked. "At least we'll be bound together in suffering."

Lyja sighed. "Let's just get it over with."

Davina grabbed a small dagger from the altar, slicing her palm first before passing it to Lyja. One by one, they made their offerings, pressing their hands together as Davina chanted.

The moment their blood mixed, the air around them shifted. A pulse of energy shot through the room, making the candles flicker wildly.

Lyja's breath hitched. "Did it work?"

Davina's eyes flashed white for a moment before returning to normal. "Yeah. It worked."

News from the Shadows

As they stepped outside the church, the cool night air wrapping around them, a figure appeared from the darkness. A young witch, barely in her twenties, her face pale with fear.

"They're coming," she gasped. "Five days. They're already on the outskirts of the city."

Lyja's stomach clenched. "How many?"

The witch shook her head. "Too many."

Davina swallowed hard, gripping Lyja's arm. "We don't have time to second-guess anything. We have to be ready."

Klaus stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Then we prepare for war."

Marcel nodded. "No one's taking this city from us."

Lyja clenched her fists, the weight of what was coming settling on her shoulders.

Five days.

The battle for New Orleans had already begun.