The silence in the crypt stretched thin after Elijah's pronouncement. The elder witches exchanged uneasy glances. The one who had spoken, Agnes, lifted a trembling hand.
"You can't just take her," she said, her voice gaining a brittle strength. "Not yet."
Elijah stopped, his back still to them. He turned slowly, his expression not one of anger, but of mild, dangerous curiosity. "I beg your pardon?"
"You have to deal with Marcel first," Agnes insisted, clutching the amulet around her neck. "Break his hold on the city. Ensure our safety. Then you can have the girl."
Elijah's eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over the coven. The air grew taut. "Are you," he asked, his voice dangerously soft, "threatening me?"
Sophie quickly stepped forward, placing herself between Elijah and the elders. "No. It's not a threat. It's… insurance." Her face was pale but determined. "I performed a spell. A life-link. My life is tied to Hayley's now."
Elijah went perfectly still. "Explain."
"If I die," Sophie said, her voice shaking but clear, "she dies. And the baby dies with her. It works both ways. It was the only way we could be sure you'd protect all of us, not just take what you wanted and leave us to Marcel."
To demonstrate, she picked up a ritual dagger from a nearby stone altar. Before anyone could react, she dragged the sharp point across her own palm. A line of bright red blood welled up.
At the exact same moment, Hayley gasped, clutching her stomach. She stared down at her own hand, where an identical cut had spontaneously opened, bleeding freely.
"See?" Sophie said, her breath hitching from the pain. "We're bound. You protect the witches, you protect your heir."
Elijah looked from Sophie's bleeding hand to Hayley's, his face an unreadable mask of polished stone. A faint muscle twitched in his jaw. He let out a long, slow breath, a rare show of sheer exasperation.
"You foolish, foolish women," he murmured, shaking his head. He pulled his pristine handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Hayley, then turned his disappointed gaze to Sophie. "You would have just let me take her. I gave you my word. My family's protection. That was all you needed."
He began to pace, a caged panther in a three-piece suit. "But now… now you force my hand. You leave me no choice but to escalate a situation I was hoping to manage with some degree of subtlety."
He stopped and pulled a sleek, modern phone from his inner pocket. His thumbs moved over the screen with sharp, precise taps. He was silent for a moment, composing his thoughts, then showed the screen to Sophie. The message was stark.
Elijah: I have found the reason we were summoned. Marcel is alive and has established a tyrannical rule over New Orleans. More critically, Niklaus has fathered a child. A young woman named Hayley is carrying his baby. He is unaware. The situation is… complicated. The witches have linked the mother's life to one of their own. Your presence is required. It seems we are all coming home.
He hit send. The soft whoosh of the message leaving his phone sounded like a lock clicking shut.
"There," Elijah said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "I have been avoiding this. Dragging the entire family into a war the moment we arrive. But you have made it necessary. The calculus has changed. This is no longer a simple extraction. It is a siege."
He walked over to Sophie, looking down at her bleeding hand with a clinical detachment. "Keep the girl safe. If a single hair on her head is harmed, my brother's rage will be the least of your concerns. I will personally ensure your suffering is… artistic."
He then turned to Hayley, his demeanor shifting slightly. There was a protectiveness there, not for her, but for what she carried. "You will be safe soon. I apologize for the… vulgarity of all this."
Hayley just stared back, wiping her bloodied hand on her jeans, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. "Just get it over with."
Elijah gave a single, curt nod. Then, without another word to the witches, he turned and walked out of the crypt, his footsteps echoing in the stagnant air.
The heavy iron gate clanged shut behind him, leaving the witches in the flickering candlelight. The silence he left behind was heavier than before, filled not with hope, but with the terrifying understanding of what they had just unleashed.
Agnes sank onto a stone bench, looking ancient. "What have we done?"
Sophie clutched her wounded hand, watching the gate. "What we had to," she whispered, but her eyes were full of doubt.
Outside, Elijah stood in the alley, the humid night air doing little to cool the cold fury simmering beneath his skin. He looked toward the heart of the Quarter, where the lights of Marcel's kingdom glittered.
He had a great many things to do. Secure a base of operations. Scout Marcel's defenses. But first, he had to find his little brother.
He needed to tell Klaus he was a father, before some fool got them all killed trying to use the news as a bargaining chip. The game was indeed on, and the first move was his.