Treme'

Le Code Noir de la Terreur

"I love the storm and fear the calm."

-Christina Queen of Sweden-

Panic swept through the mansion as the barricaded vampires struggled against their confines.

The remains of those that had been closest to the Queen's barrier were now nothing but smoking vestiges littering the marble floor in steaming black piles of cinder.

Her power pressed down upon them ominously, nearly choking them with its oppressiveness. Quickly, they tried to unite. In an effort to exploit a weak spot in the French Quarter witches barrier nearest the exit, they bombarded it with a flood of attacks. In the hope that it would be enough to crack and then break it, so they could escape the carnage.

However, only the Queen's inhumanly sinister laughter greeted their effort. Raising her head towards, what would have been the sky if she had been outside and not in the Mikaelson manor, she tilted her had back. Arsetti's mouth began to widen, far beyond what was humanly possible. It twisted and turned as it broadened—almost as if caught in the throws of a terrifyingly tuneless caterwaul.

The ground began to rumble and quake as an ear-piercing sound so shrill it couldn't possibly be called a shriek, left the Queen's lips and those caught within the barrier struggled to stay on their feet. Jumping from side to side as they tried to dodge the now rolling ground.

It moved as though something was alive underneath the polished marble—like there was a shark or some horrible underwater creature swimming just under their feet, waiting to pull them down into the dark depths of the unknown.

Some had the misfortune of being too slow and were swallowed by whatever lurk beneath the floor—Faces twisted in the horror of a last shriek never to be heard, as they were dragged beneath the marble by the unseen force.

Yet, their bodies hadn't stayed within the marble flooring for very long. Instead, the unfortunate vampires' bones had been spewed from the marble, high into the air like a geyser, until they landed in a heap back onto the now still floor.

Horrified bloodcurdling screams tore around the room. Yet, in their panic, no one could tell if said screams had been pulled from their own lips—or something more sinister. They got the answer to their unasked question, when the souls of those who had fallen by fire and by marble floor, were dragged kicking and shrieking from their paltry remains that now littered the mansion floor.

The Mikaelson men watched in morbid fascination as the souls fought a useless battle against the overwhelming power of the Voodoo Queen. Some tried desperately to hold onto whatever they could. Perilously attempting to anchor themselves to something solid—even as their ghostly hands slipped right through whatever they attempted to grab. Though they fought valiantly ultimately they were no match and their tortured faces were pulled into the vortex of her eyes, one by one—screaming their last scream before they were propelled into the abyss of eternal torment. Lightning, once again, began to rain down upon those left in the outer-barrier.

Her tattoos swaying to the sound the lightning made every time it struck one of its marks. The lynched skeletons' twisted mouths opened wider as they too, swayed, and shrieked.

Bolt after hot bolt, tore through the bodies of the vampires like and their bodies exploded on impact. Shattering like fine china, their limbs fell in bloodied heaps around the manor. Shredding through bone and muscle like wet tissue, the bolts left no survivors.

And as their souls were roughly pulled from their measly remains by the sheer power of the Voodoo Queen, they to screamed their last scream.

New skeletons began to form among the Magnolia blossoms; screeching as the noose from the tattooed branch fastened itself around their necks—for all eternity.