Treme'

Bayou Birthright

"Life is about choices. Some we regret, some we're proud of, and some will haunt us forever."

-Graham Brown-

The early morning light dimly began to cast away the shadows of the night, as the car traveled down the well-worn Esplanade street.

Arsetti kept her eyes facing the window taking in all the familiar sights. Watching as old, and new, houses whizzed by, until the space between each one grew further and further apart.

Magnolia trees with unripe blossoms and thick bluegrass covered in morning dew now ran plentiful, in place of residential housing. Every now and then a trodden path that led to an old plantation, with cracked windows or peeling paint, would come into view before it was once again covered by thick foliage.

Esplanade was one of the oldest and longest streets in all New Orleans and considered neutral ground by all the coven factions, and that was where her family stayed.

Almost at the very edge of the street, near Bayou St. John, in an old plantation aptly named Le' Magnolia de Fleur.

It was a place where you could find magnificent magnolia trees that bloomed year-round and a small creek with the clearest water and freshest fish you'd ever had—it was every bit as majestic from far away as it was up close.

Sealed behind iron gates trimmed in gold and engraved with the family crest, it loomed almost mockingly as it came into view. She watched as her Uber driver turned off onto the beaten dirt path that led to the massive 100-acre manor's equally massive gates.

Quickly, and quietly, she uttered a chant that would unlock and open the spelled iron.

Due to necessity, her family had to have the gates enchanted over 180 years ago.

Wiches were being brutally murdered in the street and inside their own homes as panic swept the city. Mobs of men armed with gasoline, rope and guns would raid houses, lynching and killing anyone accused of root work. Word had gotten around the city that the witches were committing mass killings and using the sacrifices to gain more power.

Of course, the rumor was false, but it caused panic among the people and the humans began killing off any one they could find, hunting them down for sport.

Many died during that time, hundreds in fact. Far worse than anything that happened in Salem:

As the last body of an accused witch burned in a flaming heap hanging limply from a tree at the very top of a hill, the gate to the LeRoux mansion slammed shut. The remaining covens rushed to the safety inside as the LeRouxs along with the former Voodoo Queen began to chant. Eyes glowing, they raised their hands to the gate and together began to enchant them.

Off in the distance, guttural sounds filled an otherwise silent alleyway as a vampire feasted on a woman no older than twenty. Before she could scream, he menacingly ripped out her throat. Wet gasps, pained whimpers and garbled chokes mingled with the vampire's ravenous grunts. As he continued to quench his thirst in the alleyway, mobs of angry New Orleans citizens filled the streets in search of more witches to burn.

Years later it had been revealed that it was in fact a vampire who had spread the lie in order to cover his own murderous tracks, but the damage had already been done.

Arsetti was pulled from her thoughts as the Uber came to a stop onto the cobblestone driveway that led to the marble stairway of the manors entrance.

After thanking her driver, she exited the car and waited for him to pop the trunk, so that she could gather her luggage.