WAR OF HEARTS ↠ KOL MIKAELSON [1]

2:19

| THE STAND:
CHAPTER NINETEEN |

Rhea's boots echoed against the marble floor as she hurried toward the center of the chamber, heart racing. The flickering candlelight cast long, jagged shadows across the walls, illuminating the still figure lying on the stone altar. Her breath caught in her throat.

"What happened to her?" she demanded, her voice sharper than intended as she moved quickly to Ariane's side.

The young witch's body was pale, unmoving. Her blonde hair, now dulled and tangled with dried blood, fanned around her head like a halo. She looked disturbingly peaceful. Too still. Too quiet.

Aya stood at a distance, arms crossed, her tone infuriatingly calm.

"You should know as well as I do, Rhea," she replied, stepping closer. "This is what befalls anyone who bargains with Elijah Mikaelson." Her voice held no pity. No remorse. Just an eerie, clinical precision. "Ariane discovered the weapon. The weapon—the one that can kill an Original. And since Elijah would never allow anyone to possess so deadly a secret..."

She let the implication hang in the air for a beat, then concluded flatly:

"He killed her."

Rhea inhaled sharply. Her stomach twisted. The words settled like lead in her chest as she knelt beside Ariane's body, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached out and gently brushed a lock of pale hair from the girl's face. It was cold beneath her touch.

"She was so young," she whispered, her throat tight. "With so much potential."

Aya's eyes narrowed slightly at the softness in Rhea's tone, surprised to see something resembling mourning in her expression.

"Then perhaps," Aya said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate step forward, "you won't mind spending a little more time together."

As she spoke, the heavy wooden doors at the far end of the chamber creaked open, and one by one, the Sisters entered.

They moved in pairs—silent, precise, and eerily synchronized. Their faces were obscured by their black, hooded cloaks, their footsteps barely audible. A current of magic stirred the air as they entered, the candle flames flickering restlessly.

Rhea instinctively straightened, her gaze drifting across the cloaked figures. One in particular caught her attention—a round-faced brunette at the end of the procession who stared at Rhea with unmistakable curiosity. There was something almost... questioning in her expression. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Aya turned back to the group.

"You and the others will channel her," she instructed coldly. "Search her mind. Find the weapon."

The Sisters silently obeyed, circling the altar. They knelt one by one around Ariane's body like silent judges surrounding a sacrificial offering.

Rhea let out a breathless scoff, folding her arms. "That's a bit disrespectful, don't you think? Her body isn't even cold yet. Not to mention, it's dangerous." She dropped her voice to a near-whisper. "If Elijah finds out..."