RESURRECTION • ELIJAH MIKAELSON [ON HOLD]

E I G H T E E N

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN; Her

She couldn't remember how she got there. Everything around her seemed unreal, dream-like. Her vision shifted beneath her with each step she took until the lowering skyline focused, and everything else seemed to follow in clarity.

Yet when a figure appeared in the distance, she recognized the familiar black suit immediately.

"Elijah," she called out to him before sprinting. She crashed into his arms without a second thought. The last time she had seen him, he was unconscious, still stuck in the grasps of Esther's spells, and neither her nor Klaus knew a way to break him out.

It felt too strange to see him there though when she had no idea of how she ended up in Lafayette Cemetery herself.

"Scarlett," the man breathed out. "What are you doing here," he asked as their hug broke apart slightly.

"I don't know," she said, her voice shaking slightly,"What are you doing here? You were at home. Klaus and I brought you there last night."

"We have to go," his words flew out nearly a second after hers, and he turned to take themselves closer to an exit, but none were near in sight. Scarlett couldn't recall ever even seeing an entrance. But they sped across the concrete ground fast. His legs moved at a faster rate than hers, and when the endless miles on the graveyard tired her strength, his arms lifted her as they continued to cover the distance.

"Elijah, what's happening," she asked once he stopped, his eyes darting around the vast collection of tombs.

"My mother," he uttered finally, his gaze freezing on the approaching figure of another woman. Scarlett felt the woman's presence before she was even within five hundred metres of them.

In fact, she also felt electricity dance across her skin, igniting her blood; she remembered the feeling from the night she first met Esther in Lenore's shop, yet it never grew to this extent. The sensation scared her, but she wouldn't admit to herself even in the slightest that she liked it.

The twenty-four year-old woman then felt her legs moving herself towards the witch, yet she managed to find her feet and stand to a stop halfway between them. "Esther, what else do you want?" Her voice rang with strength despite the nausea she felt, but the words exchanged during their previous argument about her magic did not end in a good note.

Scarlett could not possibly kill any of the Mikaelsons nor anyone for that matter. She was never a violent person, yet with the power coursing through her veins, doubt crept into her mind.

"We did not finish our conversation yesterday," Esther spoke.

"Yes, we did, and I'm not listening to it again," she returned sharply. "Let us go."

"I still need you, Scarlett. Don't begin to think that you can walk away from this," her voice thundered around them. "You need my help."

Unfamiliar anger welled inside the Charleston witch, and she couldn't calm it. The truth was though, a part of her didn't want to calm it.

"Why should I trust you? Why should I even believe you? Hell, you want to murder your own children! I don't want your help," she uttered, her voice cold and hard.

"You will. Trust me, if your abilities amount to anything of what I know you're capable of, you will have no one else to come to."

Her mind fought with her, voices screaming inside her skull to either concede to the older witch while more begged to walk away, to find another way out. And then the stronger side won. "Good bye Esther," Scarlett uttered before she felt her hands rise from her sides. They were aimed straight at Esther, and before she even had a chance to blink, or to even think for that matter, she felt energy pass through her palms. She didn't have time to process what had happened as everything then blurred.