A loud screech echoed throughout the Mikaelson compound. The ground shook furiously, and the walls trembled with fear. Small objects rose from their respective places like puppets and were flung to the other side of the room. The glass of water shattered beside the wide unmade queen bed. The vase by the door at the end of the assault was made into a gazillion tiny pieces incapable of being put back together.

"Hope!"

The girl's magic raved, taking on a life of its own that was filled with nothing but unending rage and anger. Beneath it all could've been something else, but, too angry to find out, her magic continued its assault. Next, the mirror. Then the mug. Then the photo sitting on her bed stand.

Her doorknob pushed and pulled, and the door shivered. But to no avail.

"Hope, baby. Please let me in!"

A tear trickled down the littlest Mikaelson's face as she let out another scream. No amount of turning, not hanging out with her friends, nor spending time with her family could fill the void in her heart. And she knew this. Sliding down her bedframe, more tears unwillingly fell from her eyes. Her magic ceased, and everything that was suspended in the air fell weightlessly.

The door pushed itself open and on the other side of it was everyone but the one person she wanted to see. With her head inside her hands, she cried harder. Her shoulders shook with pain, and as much as she wished this crying, this pain, this agony would cease, she knew it wouldn't.

"I'm here for you, baby," Her mother cried, scooting in so that her daughter was leaning on her shoulder. "I've got you. I'm right here."

"We all are, Hope," She heard another voice softly begin. "Always."

Her aunt Rebekah stood next to her uncle. However, it didn't comfort her. In a room filled with family who she knew loved her, the only thing she could think about is how lonely she was. The power that echoed through her veins was strong... and scared her at times. And all she could think about is how her father went through the exact same thing. The father didn't want her.

"All?" She scoffed, looking up. "I'd hardly call this all." She tried to stop her tears from flowing. "My father, the only one who truly knows whatever is going on with me, decided he didn't want me. "

"Hope, baby, look at me," Hayley began, looking into her daughter's eyes and only seeing anger. "I understand the longing for your father, but you have got to control-"

"I don't know how!" The young Mikaelson yelled. A burst of violent wind picked up out of nowhere. "How? Tell me how, mom!"

"Hope, control!" Rebekah shouted over the wind.

A line of fire ran throughout her room, blocking her aunts and uncles from getting any closer. Her mother jumped up, the fire running directly where she would've been sitting. She could feel her aunt's magic try to contain hers and that couldn't happen.

Once again, the life that lived through Hope's magic had taken control.

Without another thought, Hope Mikaelson fell to the ground with a thud. Freya wiped the sweat off her forehead as the fire ceased immediately.

"I-I'll be back. I think I found something."

However, on the other end of the wall, the sound of a chair being launched on the other side of the living room in the Abattoir echoed throughout the house. Because of the spaciousness of the room, the chair crashing against the wooden wall could be heard all over the house.

Thinking their niece was having another episode, every single original stood at the door.

"Hayley, what's wrong?" Elijah asked, speeding up to his lover and looking at her in the eyes.

"What's wrong, Elijah?" Hayley paced. "What's wrong? That's the wrong question. What's right? My daughter is losing control of her magic. New Orleans wants her dead; what are we supposed to do?"

"We are to fight," Rebekah began, taking a seat with a glass of bourbon in her hand. "We must show my niece that we don't run from our enemies."

Hayley sped over to Rebekah and tossed the glass out of her hand, sending it shattering against the wall. "For fifteen years, we have stayed! For fifteen years, we have fought! I will not have Hope raised in a warzone."

"I might have found a solution to that."

Elijah looked up at his older sister in surprise. "Please, do tell."

"Theoretically, Niklaus could end every enemy this family has. In addition to that, he could also put a stop to Hope's episodes."

Kol strutted in next, taking a seat by his sister, rolling his eyes at Hayley. "That is if you can find him. Nik's been gone for nearly two decades."

"Hope just recently triggered her wolf," Freya continued. "She's now two-thirds of who she is. Maybe now, as a werewolf combined with her magical ability, she's strong enough and I can break through the magic cloaking our brother."

"Well, what are we waiting on?" Hayley asked. "I'll go get Hope."

Minutes later, the Mikaelson family huddled around Freya's workshop. She grabbed a used piece of chalk off her desk and grabbed the grimoire belonging to her late mother. Esther Mikaelson was a pain in the arse, but she did one thing right.

Tying her hair back with the hair band on her wrist, she began to draw a circle on the ground. A star-looking shape stood proudly in the middle as she drew five sections inside the chalk circle. As she stood, she quickly barked out an order. "Everyone, stand inside a section."

With Elijah standing in one, Hayley to his left, Hope to her left, then Rebekah, and lastly Kol, Freya closed her eyes and chanted. She dipped her manicured nails in a bowl of blood that every Mikaelson had taken turns adding to.

Her head tilted back as she continued to chant. She could feel the power of her family flooding her senses. It was overwhelming. As she started her chant for the fifth time, images began to flow past her mind.

A lady with curly black hair.
A young boy painting a sunset.
45 Hilgrove Lane

With a gasp, Freya shivered. Elijah sped over to his sister, catching her before she could fall.

"Sister? Freya, what did you see?"

Freya looked up at her brother with a smirk. "I found him. I found Niklaus."

⚜️

Meanwhile, in a separate part of the world, the Headmistress of the Mikaelson Boarding School was busy. As she hurried to put papers in boxes, she was interrupted by three students.

"Headmistress Bennett, you called us?" One of the young boys asked, tucking his phone into his pocket.

"Yes, I did," The headmistress beckoned. "Come, come sit. I won't make this long. I know you three are dying to get home and away from school for the summer."

The three siblings looked at each other knowingly. After all, they already knew that their mother was waiting for them at home having picked them up three slushies. It was their end-of-the-year tradition.

"Take your time, miss." said the eldest calmly.

"Speak for yourself," the other mumbled.

"Elias," The headmistress called. The last boy to speak looked up, hoping the witch didn't hear him. Surely, she wouldn't call his father on the last day of school. "I just wanted to say congratulations."

"What did I do?" Elias returned, swiping his curly black hair out of his face.

The headmistress moved a glass from the shelf to her table, packing as she spoke. "You had the highest ending average in your history class. That deserves some-"

A loud gasp echoed throughout the office as the glass on the table dropped to the ground, breaking upon impact. All three siblings stood up and raced over to the witch. "Ms. Bennett? Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes," She lied, swallowing and trying to regain some of her composure. "Now, run along, you three. And have a great summer!"

Still worried, but also trusting their principal, the siblings left the office and began their walk home.

However, everything was not alright. The Bennett witch pulled her phone from her pocket and hurriedly dialed a number.

Bonnie Bennett, this is quite an unexpected phone call. Surely Elias hasn't-

"Klaus," Bonnie called shakily.

Bonnie, what's wrong?

"I think- I think someone is looking for you. And I think they found you."