𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 ⚜️ ELIJAH MIKAELSON

[ The Consecration ]

CHAPTER 32
[ New Orleans, 2013 ]

The atmosphere in the Mikaelson compound was heavy, the weight of grief and urgency pressing on everyone in the room. Klaus, Elijah, Freya, and Kol stood gathered around the long table in the center, their faces grim as they discussed what to do about Davina. The tension was palpable, unspoken emotions crackling like static in the air.

Marcel entered the room with Georgia close behind him. Her usual vibrant presence, the warmth that could soften even the sharpest edges of the Mikaelsons, was gone. Her expression was hollow, her eyes rimmed red from crying, though no tears fell now. Marcel placed a steadying hand on her back, gently guiding her to sit upon the couch.

Each of the Mikaelsons felt the void instantly. Georgia's joy, her optimism, her unwavering determination to find light even in the darkest moments, had always been a balm to their fractured family. Her absence, though she sat mere feet from them, was palpable. None of them said a word, but the silence was heavy, the weight of her grief seeping into the air around them.

Klaus, grieving the loss of Camille, the woman who had meant more to him than he could express, felt her pain as if it were his own. He stole a glance at her, the hollow look in her eyes echoing the despair he himself felt so acutely. For once, there was no smug remark, no playful jab. Instead, a flicker of understanding passed through his gaze, though it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Kol sat stiffly, his guilt so thick it felt suffocating. He couldn't meet Georgia's eyes, couldn't bear to see the sisterly love she had always given him replaced by the ache of her loss—a loss he had caused. He had sworn to protect Davina, to cherish her, but he had failed. And now, Georgia, who had always been the one to believe in him, the only one to not question his love for Davina was reduced to silence and pain because of him. The weight of it was unbearable.

But it was Elijah who felt the void most profoundly. Georgia had been his guiding light, his constant reminder that even he, with his centuries of burden and restraint, could still find joy, still believe in something good. She was his sunshine, the warmth that melted through the icy walls he had built around himself. Seeing her now, so hollow, so bereft, cut deeper than he could have imagined.

His dark eyes lingered on her, searching for any flicker of the woman who had so effortlessly brought him to life. But she was silent, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her head bowed. The grief radiated from her in waves, and he could feel it as if it were his own. A deep ache settled in his chest, a mix of helplessness and guilt. He wanted to speak, to tell her he was there, but no words felt sufficient.

None of them addressed it, this collective acknowledgment of her absence. But they felt it deeply. Georgia, the heart of their makeshift family, had been dimmed. And without her light, each of them was left to contend with the growing shadows of their own grief.

Freya cleared her throat, her tone calm but resolute. "I'll draw Davina's spirit to a circle. As long as she's there, the Ancestors won't be able to torment her. With luck, that will buy you some time to find a way to resurrect her, but I'll need to channel an Original if I'm going to sustain the spell."

Kol stepped forward immediately, his voice tight with desperation. "Well, take me. Put me down for all I care, if it keeps her safe."

Freya shook her head, her expression firm. "No, you've been marred by the Ancestors' magic. It won't work. Klaus, Elijah—rock, paper, scissors."

"There will be no need." Elijah stepped forward. If he couldn't offer Georgia his words, he could offer her his actions. Elijah's calm resolve filled the room, his voice steady and unwavering as he addressed Freya. "I'll do it. Use me."