LITTLE WITCH ▹ THE ORIGINALS

✔︎seven; the fall of the witches

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Remi sighed as she flopped down on the floor. "I don't think I can do it," she said, a bead of sweat dripping down her forehead. Hours had passed since the three Mikaelsons announced their plan to help Remi, and the girl was struggling, as expected.

The older witch kneeled down in front of her. "You can, you just have to focus. Come on," Freya said, standing back up and gesturing towards the table full of spells.

Remi trailed behind her and took one last look at the control spell she had been continuously attempting to recite. She picked up the knotted rope and breathed slowly as she closed her eyes, forcing her energy to follow the words escaping her mouth. "Explicare funem, ego non quod ego nescio dicere." The girl waited a moment, but nothing happened. Sensing Remi's frustration, Freya put a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Maybe we should take a break. You've been going at this for a few hours; you look exhausted," Freya observed, watching as Remi shook her head. As sweet as the girl was, she could be quite stubborn when she put her mind to something.

"Just one more time, please?" Remi asked with a rare twinge of hope in her voice with the older witch couldn't possibly crush. Freya debated it for a moment, and hesitantly nodded.

The girl moved to the table again, picking up the thick tweed rope and holding it steadily in her hands. She let the spell fall from her tongue like molasses. "Explicare funem," she began, and an indescribable tingle shot down her veins. "Ego non quod ego nescio dicere." Remi opened her eyes, afraid to see if she had failed once more, but to her surprise, a completely straight rope laid dangling in her hands.

Remi smiled widely. "It worked," she squealed, turning around to face Freya. 

The woman smiled back and chuckled. "You did it."

For a moment, Remi forgot about all of her worries in the world; but that was quickly replaced, as out of nowhere, a faint whispering infiltrated the girl's ears. It was something she hadn't heard since the day she fainted at Rousseau's. "Do you hear something?" Remi asked, darting her head around the room as she squinted her eyes.

Freya's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "No. You do?" she asked, watching was the younger girl placed her hands on her temples and squeezed her eyes shut.

Remi desperately tried to focus on where the strange noise was coming from. Minutes passed and she was still listening to the entrancing sound playing in her ears, as if it were on repeat. It was different than the voices she had heard during her migraines. These didn't send the familiar chill down her spine, one thick with animosity. These made her feel warm and slowed her nervous heart. 

Though she heard voices, she couldn't translate what they were saying. It definitely wasn't in English, but for some strange reason she knew what they said. She saw images flash through her mind, those that made her blood run cold.

"Quickly, Iliana, we don't have much time before the Mikaelsons wake up," an older witch persisted as she handed her friend a syringe, watching as it filled up with a thick, red liquid. A content grin appeared across her lips before they exited the apartment, stepping over a young girl's corpse with her neck in an unnatural position.

"Goodbye, Remi Moore. Thank you for your contribution to the witch community. It has been a joyous experience."

Her eyes shot open and she jumped back. Freya walked over to the girl and looked into her hazel eyes. "What the hell was that?"

"The voices . . . Klaus and Marcel are in trouble. We need to go, now!" Remi hurriedly replied, gripping Freya's hand as she ran into the courtyard, catching the eyes of Rebekah and Elijah.