No one knew what to make of it.

Elijah had called them to his study to discuss it. By then, Davina was already asleep, and only Marcel could join Yara and the Originals to talk.

"The Italians call them strega," said Elijah, staring at the portrait, face pale. "The Yoruba of West Africa call them aje, meaning mother. Where my mother was from, they called them häxa, and here we call them witch. Over the centuries, vampires have fought them and fought beside them, bedded them and burned them. Whether adversary or ally, they have been a force to be reckoned with. Their ancestral magic anchors this city. There's never been one all-powerful witch until Davina."

"And somehow because of that she got this premonition," murmured Yara. "Of some evil, of Céleste."

Elijah shook his head. "Yes. Perhaps Davina's mistaken what she calls evil for power. Celeste was certainly very powerful in her day, but she's been dead for over two hundred years. I don't understand. Why all these sketches now?"

"Why does any witch do anything?" said Klaus. "Young, old, dead, or alive, witches are a pain in the arse."

"Maybe if she saw this, she'd have a more specific premonition?" suggested Marcel. "If she knew what she's been drawing the whole time, if she saw the face... it could be like a puzzle piece clicking into place. She told me she never thought anything specific about these drawings but this is... weird. Maybe there is some meaning to be found now."

Rebekah held up her arms. "But why would it mean anything? Céleste was kind to us. How could she be evil?"

"She was kind to you," said Klaus lowly.

"Perhaps because you didn't treat her with respect!"

"There is an obvious solution!" said Yara, frustrated. "We do what Marcel said. Show it to Davina, see if something else comes up once she sees it put together. Come on..." she took the taped picture together, following Marcel to Davina's room.

Though Davina was unhappy about being woken up, she was willing to sit up and stare at the picture, still rubbing her eyes and trying to process what was going on.

"Do you sense anything different?" asked Marcel. "Something coming to mind–?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't know, it... I had no idea it was going to be a picture of someone. And I don't know who that is, I've never seen her before."

"She's a witch who lived here in the 1800s," said Yara. "Elijah's girlfriend, my friend. She knew Marcel when he was little, died in 1821. She was very powerful. Ringing any bells? Maybe someone told you about her?"

"No, I never heard of anyone like that, and I don't recognize the name Céleste. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, D," said Marcel. "You tried, that's what matters. We'll do some digging on our own. Just know that you can tell us anything that you remember or anything new that you sense, if it comes up, okay?"

Davina nodded. "Okay. I think I'm going to go back to sleep, maybe something will come up in a dream. Um..." she got a funny look on her face. "On second thought, I need some water..." she began to cough, until suddenly a mound of dirt burst out of her mouth and onto the bed.

"Davina!" cried Marcel, patting her back. "Davina– what's happening to her?!"

Yara didn't know what to do, pulling forward the trashcan to gather the dirt. "What the hell is going on? Just keep coughing, Davina, get it all out, wherever it's coming from..."

Klaus skidded into the room. "What's with all the racket? Oh, bloody hell–"

Davina let out a sound between a sob and a scream as the house began to shake violently, the portraits sliding down the walls and many decorations falling to the floor. Yara and Marcel both leaned over Davina, shielding her head. It wasn't until she stopped coughing that the earthquake ceased.

"Oh, honey, you're burning up," said Yara worriedly, feeling over the girl's face and finding it hot to the touch. "Here, lay down. I'll go get a wet rag and some ice chips. How does your throat feel?"

"It hurts," rasped Davina. "It feels so dry..."

They opened the windows to let the cool evening air flow in. Marcel and Yara had tried to get Davina as cold as possible, to no avail. She'd drifted off, an uncomfortable grimace on her face.

"This is madness," said Klaus when they gathered in the living room. "How can a sixteen-year-old girl shake the entire French Quarter?"

Marcel shrugged. "I've seen her rock the church, but I've never seen anything like this."

"Something's wrong with her," insisted Klaus.

Elijah seemed to agree. "She has too much power that she cannot control. That much we already knew. But why is it manifesting itself in such an aggressive manner?" He got to his feet, adjusting the sleeves of his suit.

"And where are you going?" asked Klaus sharply.

"This is witch business. Let's ask a witch."

Just like Davina, Sophie Deveraux was not pleased with being ripped out of her bed in the middle of the night, but it didn't matter, because once she realized the earthquake was caused by Davina, she'd grown concerned.

"Oh, we have a huge problem," said Sophie, panicked. "I thought that we had more time, but we need to complete the Harvest now."

Klaus rolled his eyes. "Said the desperate witch, conveniently."

"I'm serious! That earthquake you felt is a preview of the disaster movie that is about to hit us."

"Why should we believe you?" asked Elijah.

"You've met Davina, you know her story. For months now, she's been holding all the power of the three girls sacrificed in the Harvest ritual. A force that was meant to flow through her and back into the earth. One person was never meant to hold that much power. It's tearing her apart, and it will take us down with it."

"If she got rid of it, would it help?" asked Yara. "I suggested putting her magic away–?"

"I don't know if it'll work, it was part of a ritual, I don't think she can willingly put it anywhere other than into the Ancestral Well."

Before she could continue, there was a scream. Marcel sped off, perhaps reaching Davina in time as the house began to rumble again. Yara leaned down, covering her ears and trying to focus on anything else. She wasn't a fan of any natural disaster, but earthquakes were her least favorite.

"Sophie outlined what news to be done to prepare," said Yara a while later, sitting on the opposite side of the bed as Rebekah, who'd accompanied her to break the news to Davina. "You're self-destructing, my sweet girl, and it'll only get worse. You'll be going through the four stages that represent the four elements that bound together the Harvest. The earth stage comes first, hence the earthquake. Then, wind. Each stage is stronger than the last, mind you, so if you think the earthquake was bad, imagine what happens when this entire building loses its roof. Then comes water. Rain, flood, perhaps even a hurricane. Last is fire. The worst. This city will burn to the ground."

"Which is why they want to complete the Harvest," said Rebekah softly.

"No!" cried Davina, trying to get away from them.

"Please, Davina," said Yara, brows furrowed sadly. "I know it isn't what you want to hear, and trust me, none of us are thrilled with the idea, but it is likely you will die anyway. The witches believe you will be resurrected–"

"They're liars! They'll say anything to get what they want!"

"I know, and I don't trust it, but even you and Marcel said it was working, something was working. I keep thinking back to the many years I lived here and I never even heard of the Harvest, which leads me to believe that maybe there wassomething true about it, otherwise I would have known that witches were sacrificing children that didn't return! It isn't ideal but it's a chance we may need to take to help you stop feeling this way."

"Please, listen," urged Rebekah, near tears. "Yara and I know what it's like to have our lives stripped away because of other people's bad decisions. How do you think we became vampires?"

Yara hugged Davina to her chest, stroking her hair and trying to soothe her as a strong wind began to blow outside, entering the house and bringing a chill down their spines, as well as knocking over the rest of the things the earthquake hadn't managed to take. "Shh, please, breathe, breathe..." she looked at Rebekah, who nodded.

She quickly slid a needle into Davina's arm, injecting a sedative. As the girl slumped in Yara's arms, she lowered her onto the bed, making sure it touched the pillow as gently as possible.

"I'm so sorry," she said, even if the girl wouldn't hear her.

Marcel was displeased with Sophie offering only one solution.

"We sedated her," said Yara, displeased. "Now what?"

"We don't have time to waste," said Sophie. "We need to get her to the cemetery."

"No," Marcel insisted. "There has to be something else you can do to fix her."

"She can't be fixed! She can't be saved! These catastrophes are going to continue happening and if you wait it out, you immortals will be the only ones left to argue about it."

"Then we're in agreement," said Klaus. "Davina must be sacrificed. There's no need to let her blow the roof off our heads in the meantime."

"No way!" said Marcel, springing to his feet. "You're not touching her!"

Elijah held out his hand before he could strike Klaus. "Marcel, no one wishes to see Davina come to harm less than I, but there is no scenario here in which we simply wait this out. She's going to die."

Marcel jabbed a finger at Sophie, "According to her, the witch who screwed over everybody here!"

"The Harvest was working before it was stopped. If a nonbeliever like Sophie Deveraux can come to have faith that these girls will be resurrected, then I, also, am a believer."

"I saved Davina from the Harvest, and now you want me to just hand her over?"

"Do you think that I'm happy about this?" Klaus said loudly. "If the witches complete the Harvest, they regain their power and we risk them causing a multitude of problems for us. The earthquake I was willing to chalk up to hideous coincidence, but these winds? If Davina is not sacrificed, then every inch of earth that shook, everything blowing about now will soon be drenched in water and consumed by fire."

"Oh, suddenly you care about the city!"

"We ought to," said Elijah tightly. "We built it."

"And we all saw it burnt to the ground twice," said Klaus. "I will not let that happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

Marcel chose to storm off, making a motion with his hand to prevent anyone from following him.

"Not a people person, are you, Niklaus?" said Elijah.

Klaus scoffed. "Nonsense, I love people."

Yara motioned for them to turn their attention back to Sophie. "What, pray tell, is your plan? Hayley came to tell me you wanted her to help complete the Harvest. What exactly are you going to do?"

"Well, we need an Elder to do it. I figured out a way to become one."

"Is that even possible?"

"Yes, I did research. Usually, the power has to be bestowed upon you by an existing Elder. But in 1742, there was a witch massacre that wiped out all the Elders, so they decided whoever consecrated the most powerful dead witch in the community became an Elder. It worked for them. If I find an unconsecrated witch, I can absorb their magic. And... I happen to know of one whose body was never found. Céleste DuBois."

"What are the odds?" said Klaus dryly.

"That's why you recruited Hayley," said Yara. "You figured she could find out from Elijah."

"That's what my hope was. Elijah–?"

"No," he said flatly. "I made a promise to her, and I intend to keep it. There has to be some other way."

"There is no other way! Unless you know of some super-powerful dead witch whose bones were never consecrated, it's over. Davina will die in tremendous pain, the city will be reduced to ash, and our magic will be gone forever. I know the last part may not seem to matter much but that baby–" she gestured to Yara, "is a problem for a lot of people, from what I'm hearing. I don't think you want to continue this pregnancy without a witch on your side. I could help you, and so could Davina. But that only works if she lives and if I can still practice magic."

Elijah looked up, tapping his chin. "There is someone else, actually. Our mother."

Rebekah stared at him. "It's taken one thousand years, but you've finally gone mad. Our own mother?"

"Yes." He began to pace. "Our beloved mother, who Niklaus has affectionately placed in a coffin in his basement– not daggered, but quite dead."

"Well," said Klaus, "she did try to kill us all."

"I say we put her to use and put her to rest once and for all. Now if we bury our mother on land owned by one of her descendants, she becomes a New Orleans witch, and we, as her family, share in that ancestral magic."

"We're vampires, Elijah," said Rebekah. "We can't practice magic. Or own property, for that matter."

"Yes," said Elijah. "However..." he pointed at Sophie. "You can."

She was thinking it over, slowly nodding her head. "It could work. You bury your mother and channel her power to me. I become the Elder. Only hitch is, as conduits of Esther's magic, you'll have to participate in the Harvest."

"Fine," said Klaus. "Done."

"But what about the property?" asked Rebekah, clearly not fond of the idea.

"Yes, as for that," said Elijah, "not all of our mother's descendents are dead..."

"That might not count!" said Yara in disbelief. "I'm a vampire and the baby isn't even really a baby, it's... it's... a clump of cells!"

"It's the only option we have," said Elijah. "The parish Tax Assessor's office is just steps outside of the Quarter. We could place the deed to that other house in your name, bury out mother in its backyard. It is still within the city limits. We consecrate those grounds, then finish the Harvest ritual."

"You're a bit of a mad genius, Elijah," said Klaus. "Count me in."

Rebekah made a face. "Am I the only one thinking? Our mother was the most powerful witch in history. If we bury her, we hand that power to our enemies to use against us."

Elijah noted the look on Sophie's face, stunned but definitely trying not to be offended. "Given our circumstances, I hardly see that we have a choice, Rebekah."

She sighed in frustration. "I don't know why I bother. You two will just do what you want anyway."

"No," said Elijah. "Our decision must be unanimous."

Klaus looked annoyed. "This is not a democracy."

"I wonder if you even hear yourself sometimes," said Yara quietly, not at all surprised that he'd so easily cast his sister's opinions aside. "She's not wrong."

"This is a family," said Elijah, correcting Klaus. There was a clap of thunder, and suddenly, rain began to pour outside. "Water. The next sign's begun. Rebekah?"

She sighed. "Kill a demon today, face the devil tomorrow. Count me in."

Klaus sirked. "Well, this is no family reunion without our mother. I'll fetch her."

"I'll go talk to Marcel," offered Yara.

She would have, if he was anywhere to be found.

"You have got to be kidding me!" she said, pacing around the study and dialing his number. Elijah already had Sophie doing a Locator Spell, and Rebekah was tracking on foot along with the other vampires. Thierry had a few ideas regarding where Marcel might have gone to hide. Klaus had brought the deed over for her to sign before retrieving Esther. "Marcel, answer me!"

When he finally did, she didn't give him room to breathe. "You listen to me, Marcel, just listen. Are you listening?"

"Fine," he muttered. "If it'll stop you from calling me a million times!"

"I know what it's like to lose a child, to lose anyone you love. I've been through it with you. I don't want to see Davina hurt but what choice do we have, Marcel? This is killing her! She won't make it to sunrise and neither will the city if you keep this up! If someone had told me that you might come back to life after you died, I would have taken that chance in a heartbeat. Better to try than to do nothing and fail all the same. What other plan do you have, really? What else can you possibly do? She is already dying, Marcel, and isn't it better to take a chance of seeing her again than to lose her permanently? I know how afraid you both must be. But a warrior does not give up. If you want to fight for something, fight to give her a chance to live. Do not run away. I left this city behind because I was a coward. You are better than me, Marcel, you always were the best parts of Klaus and I. And at our best we have laughed in the face of danger because every part of us wanted to cry but we stood tall because it was better to lose everything and have gone down in battle than to– to– to toss in the towel the way I did when I became a vampire! Please, my boy, I am begging you to see some sort of reason. If there was any other way, I would offer it, but it isn't. And I don't want you to take this risk unless you truly know of some other way to heal her. That little girl is going to die tonight, Marcel. Will that death mean something? Will it mean giving up or will it mean hope?"

There was a moment where all she could hear were whispers, likely between Davina and Marcel. "Fine," said Marcel. "I'll bring her to the cemetery."

"Okay," said Yara. "We'll be there soon. There's just one thing we need to do first."

She and Rebekah sped there with umbrellas, neither sure how exactly a grave was waiting for them in the backyard of the house. Father Kieran was there, too, along with Sophie Deveraux.

"Nice to meet you," said Yara hastily. "Marcel and Davina will meet us at the cemetery."

"Good," said Klaus, seemingly impressed that she'd convinced him.

"Are you ready to do this?" asked Father Kieran loudly over the rumble of thunder.

"Always and forever," replied the hybrid. He held up a dagger, slicing his palm open and dripping it over Esther's grave. He offered it to Rebekah, who did the same, followed by Elijah, and at last, Yara.

Father Kieran took the knife, tossing it in, where it clunked against the lid of the coffin. "It's done."

Sophie would have sprinted to the cemetery if Elijah hadn't offered to guide her at vampire speed with the rest of them. They beat Marcel and Davina there. The witch immediately began to prepare the ceremonial blade and stage. Elijah and Klaus helped lay out the bodies of the other three Harvest girls, who Yara could hardly bring herself to look at.

"Look," said Sophie, pointing at the entrance. "Fire."

Despite the rain, a column of fire was following Marcel and Davina to the altar. The girl could barely stand as she was set beside Sophie, who'd been holding the ceremonial athame up to a torch that was struggling to stay lit.

"Do you believe in the Harvest?" she asked Davina.

Davina nodded nervously. "I believe."

Yara reached for Rebekah's hand as Sophie slid the blade over Davina's throat. She gasped in shock, sliding down slowly. Marcel eased her fall, laying her beside the other Harvest girls. The rain and fire went out immediately, the girl's skin glowing gold for a moment before it faded into the earth.

"After the Harvest comes the Reaping," said Sophie. "Their sacrifices made and accepted. We call upon our Elders to resurrect the chosen ones." She looked down at the four girls, all very still. She repeated, "We call upon our Elders to resurrect the chosen ones..." Again, nothing. "Resurrect your chosen ones! Please... I beg..."

"You've got to be kidding me," said Yara weakly. "Oh, no..."

Marcel sped off without waiting for Sophie to confirm that something had, in fact, gone wrong. Yara and Klaus both followed him to the Compound, where he reached for a chair and tossed it into the nearest pillar.

"That won't bring her back, you know," said Klaus awkwardly.

Marcel shot him a hateful look. Klaus immediately amended his statement, "I'm sorry. You may think I know nothing of your grief, but you are wrong. In the days after I fled this city, I thought you were dead. It was years before I could speak your name, so keenly did I feel that loss. I'm sorry." He lowered his voice. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, my baby boy," whispered Yara when she saw Marcel's lip trembling, tears building in his eyes. She drew both him and Klaus into a hug, resting her head on Marcel's shoulder. "Let it out, sweetheart, please."

She couldn't even remember how many people she'd killed when she stopped running, having left Klaus and Rebekah far behind in that safe house. She'd destroyed everything in her path, she'd had to stage a fire of her own to explain the massacre.

And when she'd finally gotten somewhere she could rest, she sobbed and screamed like never before, hugging herself and laying on the ground. Marcel was gone and she'd lost Klaus, too. There was nothing left for her but rage and anguish. (A/N: Think like, Elsa losing Bruno, Catelyn Stark losing Robb, Daenerys losing Rhaegal </3 )

A part of her had never bothered to go back to New Orleans because she was afraid to show her face.

"He's resting now," she said, coming to sit with Klaus at the table. He slid a cup of tea toward her. She rubbed her forehead, taking a sip. "It's not possible. It shouldn't be. It... it was working, right? Then why... how..."

"I don't know," said Klaus honestly. "It was the only choice, love."

"I am aware." She leaned her head into her hands. "This can't be happening. It just... it shouldn't be. Are you certain you wish to live here long term? Don't get me wrong, you know I love this city, but is this really where you want to raise this baby?"

He caught sight of her other hand rubbing the baby bump, jaw clenching. "I'm going to find out where the bloody hell that magic went. And so help me, I will kill whoever stole it and I will make sure Davina comes back."

Marcel was inconsolable for the first few days. This was expected. Yara tried to be gentle, bringing him food, not pushing for a conversation he clearly wasn't ready to have. Most days he left without saying anything and came back at odd hours smelling like alcohol. Yara said nothing as she put his clothes in the laundry basket, always leaving small vegetable and fruit juices for him to freshen up in the mornings.

Then, out of nowhere, something odd happened.

"Papa Tunde?" she asked, staring at Klaus. "You're sure?"

"His mark was carved on the forehead of two slaughtered vampires," he said. "There are no wounds on them. They were simply desiccated and... stuck in a circle of salt. The vampires and I will be tracking on foot. Marcel insists he's following a lead elsewhere. I doubt it. By day's end, I will know where that fool or his copycat resides, and I will send him to the grave as I did the first. You must not leave the Compound."

At first, this made sense. And then, one of the vampires had brought news that Rebekah's body had been sighted at a warehouse in the docks, sealed in a circle of salt.

"We have to go and get her," said Yara immediately.

"I will go and get her," Elijah corrected. "Niklaus has instructed–"

"Since when do I give a crap what orders he gives? The Compound isn't any safer if someone as mighty as Rebekah was subdued while searching for this charlatan. We are going together. At least with the two of us, we stand somewhat of a fighting chance."

Though he didn't like the sound of it, he let her tag along.

"Jesus," said Yara when they arrived, sliding her hand over the invisible barrier. "They weren't kidding about not being able to free her. What the hell is this?"

Elijah was already on the phone, trying to get a hold of Sophie Deveraux. "Yes, about that warlock we were inquiring about earlier. We've located my sister. She's in some sort of boundary spell. Someone is channeling her, I believe. If we retrieve her– yes, we stop her from being used as a battery."

"How do we break this?" demanded Yara. "How can we get her out?"

He put Sophie on speaker. "It's a convoluted spell. It's like a witch's recipe. You can spoil the balance by adding a more potent ingredient. A mystical binding agent. I don't know, volcanic ash, rock salt... anything up to and including eye of newt."

"I can get rock salt somewhere nearby," said Yara. "There's got to be a store with that..."

"What about the blood of a witch?" asked Elijah slowly.

Sophie seemed confused, "Do you have the blood of a witch?"

Elijah turned to Yara. "The baby. It is a descendant of my mother, and therefore..."

"It's part witch," reasoned Yara. "And filled with magic because of the vampire and wolf blood running inside it. Okay." She bit into her hand, letting the blood drop over the salt. At first, nothing happened, but then, it began to fizzle and deteriorate, opening a small slit. Elijah was able to step inside, picking up Rebekah's body and whisking the three of them away.

Klaus was not pleased.

"I specifically told you to stay in the Compound!" he said angrily when he found Yara cooking dinner.

"And I recall," she said menacingly, holding up the burning pan, "telling you many times in the past, that I don't like being barged in on while I'm in the kitchen! I've thrown a hot pan at you once before, I will do it again."

"You deliberately disobeyed–"

"Yes, I did, and because of it, Elijah was able to free Rebekah a lot faster! What was the point of being cooped up here with a gaggle of novice vampires when that warlock could have burst in and killed us all the way he killed Rebekah? She can come back from it, but what about us?"

"Which is precisely why you should not have put yourself out there where he could have easily brought harm to you–"

"So it's him, then, isn't it? The real Papa Tunde? Not some copycat?"

He sighed in frustration. "Yes, yes it is, and Sophie Deveraux was just telling Marcel and I that it is more than likely someone hijacked the power of the Harvest and used it to bring back four different witches. Papa Tunde is here with a vengeance and he is armed with a blade loaded with black magic from sacrificing vampires. He's already murdered those in the Garden, where Marcel keeps those of his community desiccated and serving their sentences for some crime. Which is why I must implore you do not leave this bloody house anymore."

"But you were just saying yesterday that the church is opening up–?"

"You are not coming."

"I may not go to mass frequently but I am sure I am far more religious than you, Klaus!"

"I will not risk any harm coming to you or to the baby! For once, Yara, listen."

"Ask politely then I will."

He stared at her as if this was the most ridiculous thing she could possibly be asking for. When he realized she wasn't letting up, he said, "Very well, then, I would very much like–" he scowled when she shook her head, "if you would pleaseremain here for your safety and the safety of the child you are carrying. Is that better?"

"Much. The answer is still no, though."

"You've got to be joking!"

"If you're going somewhere, I'm going with you. I'm not going to be here alone and unprotected. If you're going to the service, so am I. I don't trust those young vampires to keep me safe. And I don't trust the walls of this house to keep out witchy intruders who aren't stopped by deeds the way immortals are. Until that man is out of our hair, I'm glued to you. I'm not a prisoner and I will not be cooped up when it is entirely unproductive and just as dangerous as being out and about."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well, then." Under his breath, he added, "stubborn brat."

"I heard that!"

"You hear everything."