"This is your phone call warning," MJ sat in an airport departure lounge with Elliot, leaving a voicemail, "Just because I said I was coming to New Orleans does not mean I'm going to be there in, like, five minutes."

She'd had the sudden realisation that Klaus might've taken her 'New Orleans' announcement as permission to recreate the summer of her Junior Year.

"If you do desperately need something, Rebekah will probably have a better chance of reaching me since she's also out of the country. Yes, this is me forcing you into making up with your sister if you want to talk to me."

Elliot snorted.

"And if you are that adamant about spending a decade mad at her, I will be checking my emails."

Her MiMiPasare ones.

"Other than that, sorry in advance for your next credit card bill, but I doubt I'll really make a dent. See you in September."

She hung up, Elliot starting to properly laugh.

Her voice came out a little higher than intended, "What?"

"Just thinking back to how that's the guy who held you hostage."

"The world is a complicated place."

He put an arm over her shoulder, and they both sank down a little in their seats – cold metal chairs with tiny cut-out circles that itched your legs when you moved.

His tone became softer, "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," MJ meant it too, "I need a goal to function, and now I have one."

"That feels so unhealthy."

"What does?"

"Needing a goal."

"I mean, I tried a year of just living, no goals, and it turned into the worst year of my life."

"The summer was pretty good," He argued, "And I feel like it was going decently until November."

"Until, Ric, yeah," She did have to give him that.

He offered her a high five, "And now you're done with school!"

"I'm only deferring a year!"

"Please," Elliot scoffed, "You're on the Original Family's payroll. You'll never have to work another day in your life if you don't want to – and I bet you'll get completely swept into the supernatural community over there."

She considered it.

"And that's not a bad thing," He quickly added, "It's not like you're doing nothing. You'll be doing magic, and you'll be happier."

She closed her eyes and smiled, "You're a really good friend."

"I try."

"I hope you love TISCH, and I hope you end up famous."

He laughed, "We can dream. Until then, I'm gonna enjoy the fact all the fundraising and donations from the past two years basically fund my summer."

"Don't phrase it that way!"

"In a good way!" He shoved her lightly, "I mean, two weeks in South Africa, two weeks in Ghana and a week in Morocco...we're doing good."

MJ really didn't understand how she'd managed to befriend someone, who at his very core, was so genuinely kind.

"Then I'm doing that Cuba program in August, like, in hippie speak, since I am with you, I am ready for a soul cleanse, and that's what this was last year."

"And you didn't even do anything bad last year," She snorted.

"Bad is relative."

MJ's phone buzzed.

"A response to your voicemail?" He teased.

"Nah, MiMi Pasare Thing."

The day after her graduation, MJ had felt incredibly stuck, so instead of packing, she'd procrastinated and redesigned her entire online supernatural presence.

She'd turned it into a website.

The human world was filled with so many witch and believer sites that it blended right in, and it made her life a little more manageable. Instead of sending out a million different emails to try and get or distribute information, she could just write posts or edit information on a page.

She'd spent the day designing it and was incredibly proud.

The Originals Page was the most in-depth. MJ had been looking into them the longest, so it made sense. It had the necessary information about who they were, the sire-lines, the stories to scare people straight, and the extra abilities they had.

MJ also liked the werewolf pages.

Venom and what it told you, how to trace a lineage, history on the seven royal packs, and how Klaus's blood was the cure (and some side info about hybrids and sire-bonds).

Almost instantly, she'd received an email from a werewolf asking her to trace his lineage through his venom, and the second she'd confirmed that she could, and that she could help vampires work out their sires, MJ suddenly had a blood/venom-dealing business.

She'd given her PO Box in Mystic Falls, Caroline collecting samples for her, putting them in premade preservation containers and then sending them over to wherever MJ would be heading next around the world.

She could feel herself getting a little drunk on the power – no, the knowledge.

She could end up with a stupidly large venom collection, and if she could isolate the seven different types, she might be able to make a science-based alternative to Klaus's blood.

Elliot was waving a hand in front of her face, "Earth to MJ."

"I'm here," She cleared her throat.

"We're boarding," He gestured to the forming queue.

Magic could comsume her life once she was done with her, as Elliot put it, 'soul-cleanse.'

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" He helped her up, "With the vomiting blood situation?"

She'd had to come clean to Caroline after Graduation, and she'd snitched on her to everyone else, including Elliot, as the person she was leaving town with.

"Kol's notes mean yes," She nodded.

"Hm?"

"One of the pages he left me was a healing tea that slows it all down – and, until I start vomiting bugs, I don't need to worry."

"I feel like I'm enabling you to die young..."

"You're not," She assured him, "Blood means two months to live; blood with his little concoction means five."

"And what if he's got it wrong?"

"It's Kol," MJ picked up her hand-luggage, "He hasn't."

~***~

"Tyler's still not told you when he's gonna come home then?" MJ had her phone pressed against her ear, talking to Caroline as she unlocked a creaking wooden door in Spain.

She and Elliot had completed their volunteering section of the summer, passing through Nigeria and Senegal on their break days. While he'd headed home to spend some time with his mum, she'd flown to Cádiz to get started on fixing her necklace.

"No," Caroline huffed, "And I'm getting concerned, and you're not here to calm me."

"Sorry," MJ put her bags down in the foyer before clicking her back.

"I know it's complicated, and he's with a wolf pack right now, and he loves it – it's just...I wish I could be with him..."

"Are the wolves handling a hybrid well enough for a vampire to stop by?"

Caroline sighed, "I don't wanna crash his time away from everything."

MJ looked at the clock as she walked through the cream coloured hallway towards a large open window at its end.

She could see onto the street, light grey brick roads filled with cars parked on either side. There was a zebra crossing right by the house's front door, arching traffic lights looming over it, pedestrians heading onto the promenade, strolling next to the sea.

MJ loved the ocean in Spain.

It shone a prettier colour, the deep blues and greens standing out against the pale sky rather than merging into one, sun shining exceptionally bright.

She was happy to be in shorts and a tank top, shades on her head.

"What time is it with you?" She checked.

"Three in the morning," Caroline mumbled

"Caroline!"

"I have a limited number of hours to talk to you!"

MJ laughed.

"And with Bonnie only using email, I need to hear one of your voices."

MJ frowned, "I've left her a bunch of voicemails hoping she'd take the hint that I'd like to hear her speak after a month of nothing, but nope."

"Same."

"Is she okay?"

"I think so?"

"You think so?"

"She's with her mum, and Elena doesn't seem worried?"

Elena.

After MJ had left The Grill, Elena had left too, looking for Bonnie, only to find Katherine. Katherine had tried to kill her, so Elena had shoved the cure down Katherine's throat.

After all the trouble they'd gone through, the cure had ended up in Katherine.

MJ wasn't even mad, finding it almost funny.

She'd expected Katherine to call her, or hunt her down, or try and get her to find a magical solution to reverse its effects, but MJ hadn't heard anything, tempted to make the first move and check in herself.

Bonnie had brought Jeremy back to life...

Did that mean MJ could give Katherine a free-pass?

They gave Damon the free-pass...

"Where are you?" Caroline changed the subject.

"Cádiz for three days," MJ had a tight schedule to keep, "Currently inside the old Mikaelson House there."

She left the view to start searching for the study.

"When Elijah left Klaus and Rebekah in the 1900s, he came back to Cádiz and refurbished the place - plus, according to Kol, he went on a bit of a clean-up tour. Collecting things the family left scattered around Europe and leaving them in the houses they technically still own."

"How many houses do they have?"

"No idea, kinda scared to ask," MJ opened a pair of sliding doors and grinned, "Bingo."

The office.

Two walls of bookshelves, some cabinets for her to sort through, and an old fashioned desk.

MJ started pulling open the desk draws.

"Can I ask what you're looking for?"

MJ hadn't exactly briefed anyone on the specifics of what she was doing through the summer.

"The guide my mum gave me is a nightmare," MJ pulled out a box of leather-bound journals, "Kol's notes are more helpful, but still require me finding some other Grimoire he helped make."

She started to open the books, seeing Elijah's handwriting and dates in the left corner.

"A Grimoire in Cádiz?"

"He told me it was here, but he doesn't know what might've happened to his old witch-spot, it's been a few centuries, so I need to figure that out on my own," She flicked through a few more of the odd smelling and old pages, "Urgh – promise me something?"

"What?"

"No matter how old you get, never start journaling."

Caroline laughed, "Why?"

"I've just found Elijah's, it's giving me Stefan flashes, and it pains me."

"Some people prefer to write," She justified, "Just because you prefer talking to a camera doesn't make it better."

"It's so much better," MJ shook her head, scanning the words as she skim-read, "Their hands must ache so much!"

"Healing ability."

"Shut up."

"Speaking of Stefan," Caroline's voice went a little quieter.

"You haven't heard from him either?"

"No."

"Okay," MJ bit her cheek, "Now I'm worried."

Caroline had been waiting for someone else to panic before she let herself, "You are?"

"He literally called because he wanted to stay in contact, then vanishes without a trace?" MJ didn't like it, "I get that vampires are shady sometimes, but nu-uh. Something's up."

She switched the shoulder holding her phone in place to pull out more journals, looking for one from the 1700s.

"I'm one more voicemail away from throwing boundaries out of the window and tracking him."

"Have you sent pocket notes?"

"I've texted, left several polite and demanding voicemails, tried skype and facetime," MJ listed, "I know he wants space from Mystic Falls, but a text with an address in Portland and the words 'I'm gonna take some time to set myself up then call' do not cut it."

"Maybe he's really hurting from Elena and Damon?" Caroline suggested.

"But I'm not Elena or Damon – hell, I'm not even in Mystic Falls!"

"MJ – "

"I know!" She whacked another journal onto the table, "Stefan resets his life the way I used to...I'm sure he'll call when he's ready..."

It just felt off.

"I don't know?" She focused on date-searching, "I just need to know he's okay?"

"Let's give it a week or two more, maybe?"

"Yeah," MJ agreed, eyes finding precisely what she needed, "Jackpot!"

"Jackpot?"

"Elijah records everything, including the locations his siblings sneak off to," She switched her phone to speaker so she could start writing down addresses, "Rebekah's rendezvous spots, Klaus's art corners, and Kol's playhouse."

"That's invasive."

"It's the Mikaelson's."

"True."

"I'm gonna search the house for any more journals he might've left in case he happened to record where Kol learnt whatever the hell Kemiya is, which would save me so much time, but that's a task for tonight."

"Have fun trying to fix your necklace."

MJ's hand ran over the chain, "It's really weird wearing it again...knowing how much magic's in it."

"You're wearing it!?"

"...Yeah?"

"MJ!"

"No one's died since the summer started, it's not doing anything weird to me, and from what my mum's written, the power will try to find a way to me now it's locked on, no matter where I put it. Not wearing it wasn't the saving-grace I thought it was."

Caroline groaned, "Be safe."

"You too."

"I'm not taking part in a magic treasure hunt with no back-up."

"No, you're in Mystic Falls, which is probably less safe."

She couldn't argue with that.

"I'll talk to you later."

"Bye."

MJ hung up and put her phone in her pocket, heading out into the city.

The playhouse was pretty easy to locate, MJ expecting it to have been destroyed over the years, only to find herself staring at an active witch house.

Elijah's journal said the playhouse was in an underground tomb, but MJ knew a witch house when she saw one.

The outside walls were scruffy, the first floor a bright orange with grey window covers while the three above it were light yellow, on the corner of a street by a collection of large plastic bins. Though it looked like a simple building, possibly home to some apartments based on what she could see on through the windows, it was definitely a coven house. The protective symbol on the door buzzer gave it away.

On the side was a metal gate built into the red wall, not much taller than her, steps instantly behind it so people above average height wouldn't hit their head.

MJ cautiously looked around.

No one was paying her any attention.

She put her hand on the iron to push it back, but it stung like a wasp, making her flinch back instantly.

It was spelled shut.

Made sense.

MJ did a quick walk back around, inspecting the building for any Mikaelson 'M', like the place in Italy, but there was nothing. No sign to tell her if it was a big coven, how old it was, or what type of witches might be inside.

She considered going to the front door and asking for help, but then realised she'd have to talk to people and put that thought away.

MJ didn't want to ask questions or explain her situation to just anyone.

Heading back to the gate, forcing herself to deal with the pain, she siphoned the spell.

Her plan for the summer involved fixing the necklace, learning how to wield the power once she wasn't the host, working out just how much siphoning could actually do (werewolf bites and compulsion wise), and growing her spell list in her head.

After five minutes of thinking her hands were going to shrivel up, the spell was gone, and MJ could push the gate back.

Point for her.

She headed down the steps – a smooth dark grey that was far too polished compared to the rest of the area. The walls were overgrown with moss, the minimal security lights broken, and a few bottles had been chucked through the bars as a litter spot by humans.

The door at the bottom of the stairs looked like it hadn't been touched in at least a century, and MJ was careful not to push too hard in case it collapsed.

Behind the door, she was met with a room of dust and unfinished memories.

There were books across tables, things laid out for spells, and beakers that were empty but stained, like the contents had evaporated out, now impossible to properly clean. It was clearly a tomb, the stone walls were covered with neatly engraved names,m and spots for people to prop candles up in for their lost loved ones.

The place had been abandoned when Mikael arrived, and MJ's gut told her it hadn't been touched since.

She didn't know what spell had been on the gate, but if Kol's goal was to keep Klaus out, it wouldn't have been easily broken.

The first thing MJ did was take a picture, then she crept towards the table to look at the books.

She kept thinking back to the memory she'd watched, the burning town and how stupid they'd all looked with long hair and hats.

She smiled.

She shouldn't be smiling at a memory of mass murder, but she couldn't stop herself.

The pages of the journal were fragile, almost ripping off the second MJ tried to gently push it back, and she wished she'd brought gloves, or a duster, or something that would've helped her feel like she was handling the antiques properly.

A spell.

She was a witch. Why stand there, hoping she didn't ruin something important when she could just use a spell?

A preservation spell would stop MJ from doing any damage, but the ink had practically faded away. She needed a rejuvenation spell – if you could even do that on a book?

A mending spell might've been easier, but MJ wasn't convinced that was the right thing to do.

There wasn't anything to fix, just restore...

She wrapped her hands around the cover, "Sanguinatum Plancicium, Sanguinatum Planicium."

A spell from one of the Grimoires she'd acquired.

"Sanguinatum Plancicium, Sanguinatum Planicium."

MJ felt the magic leave her finger tips, the hard cover becoming softer against her skin – bendable. Like it was well used and still usable, rather than about to break.

The papers uncrinkled, and the words were easy to read in a light blue ink.

Well, the main words were in light blue.

A dark red was annotating sections of a few pages, and the drawings were all in black.

MJ couldn't stop herself from laughing as she looked across the table, watching as the other sheets came back to life too.

There were six journals for her to take, some filled with Kol's writing, diagrams and magic; others were records he'd written.

Could she just take them?

MJ started to feel weird, standing in a place he'd spent time in centuries prior, without him. Walking away with his things as if they were hers to take.

She wanted to say Kol would happily let her have them; he'd given her other things, but still, part of her doubting brain liked to chirp away about how he hadn't really cared about her or that she needed to stop focusing on herself and find a way to bring him back first.

She was an idiot, and feelings were stupid and complicated.

Kol should've been there with her.

That was the real root of the problem.

His final moments had been spent threatening Klaus over her, which had to mean he cared, and MJ knew she did too, she just didn't know where to start with bringing someone back from the dead without the Floare spells, and Kol had been entirely correct with all his reasons for why using them on him wouldn't work.

MJ opened the nearest book, ready to make fun of him in her head if he journaled the same way Stefan and Elijah did.

They were both very dramatic and overly detailed vampires, but it didn't seem like Kol was.

He didn't write down everything, just important things, and most of it was just to keep a record of ideas rather than events.

MJ didn't know if that was good or bad for her head.

Reading his thoughts felt incredibly wrong, they were private things, but they could give her a little bit more of him, an insight into who he'd been...it was something she was kinda craving.

Kol didn't just label the entires with dates, the other difference between him and his brother, he liked to label them all with titles; some were clearly meant to be sarcastic and over the top, others to the point.

MJ wanted to cheer when she saw the word 'Kemiya.'

Kol's experience in Arabia during the start of the 14th Century.

She started to read,

'The intersection between science and spirit. Diamonds focusing power to destroy an object's foundation, changing it into something else entirely – it's not transfiguration. The permanent physical properties mirror alchemy, but unlike equivalent exchange, the diamond is the key.

It seems like there need to be at least two witches, but that might be a rule for safety rather than a limitation.

I don't quite understand the purpose of it, though.

Watching the witches, learning from them, their minds are the problem, stopping them from realising just what this power could truly be used for. They're wasting their skills on jewellery making.'

The next few pages documented the process the witches used, Kol's running commentary filled with workarounds he thought they should try, only to be shut down by the coven.

The witches were 'good', not about to break their rules to please a vampire.

Kol's thought process was pretty straightforward. He thought they could use the skill to put magic permanently into objects, which he could then use without a witches assistance.

MJ was reading the start of dark object creation...

She changed to a different page, expecting to see some kind of record of how he grew impatient and killed the witches, or tore the town down, or something that matched the Kol Mikaelson of history, but she didn't find that.

Instead, she found a two-page spread, 'Silas' written in the centre.

Lines were coming from it, a spider-diagram of subheadings, coven names, locations and reports.

'Ingania Tribe: The Witches tell a story of a man from before my families time – an immortal who retained his magic in some form. When awake, he controlled the coven that created him, causing them to bleed out and stain their sacred land, and by doing so, the ancestors cursed him to sleep.'

'Ganique: The story is conflicting.

Some are saying the monster was a woman and that Silas was purely a tool in a spell. A way to trap spirits, to punish the ancestors for the loss of a loved one, so she created an immortal man to work as an anchor to The Other Side.

They say that waking him would break the spell, causing The Other Side to collapse, every dead spirit who'd been caught in it rising with him.'

'Dake: Similar to the first reports, however, more information: Hunters

The hunters who created the daggers my brother now possesses are tied to Silas.

The cure Rebekah craves as part of her desperate desire to return to our weakened human state was not created for demons but for Silas, so that he could free the spirits of the deceased supernatural by stripping himself of the magic holding The Other Side together.

There are reports of a collection of witches who have a map to find him. They are clearly fools who believe that raising the dead is a good idea.'

There were a few other entries, but MJ didn't want to stand around and wait to be found by another witch when she could read them all back at the house.

It was funny how stories could be so close to the truth yet so incorrect.

Something MJ did take away from the notes?

More than one collection thought Silas was holding The Other Side together.

It did make sense in a way. If you wanted to create a spirit plane, you needed something practically indestructible, but she knew that wasn't true. She knew Silas thought the way to bring The Other Side down was a spell.

Antoni had asked an important question. Why was there a female doppelgänger if Amara had been killed?

MJ knew Qetsiyah was twisted and smart; her entire plan was based around separating a pair of soulmates for eternity, putting off finding her own peace until she knew Silas couldn't get his.

The ultimate irony would be to make Amara the anchor to The Other Side, so that if Silas wanted to destroy it, he'd have to destroy his one true love.

But if that was the case, where the hell was she?

Qetsiyah wasn't exactly around to keep her locked up somewhere, and she'd made it pretty clear she didn't have living witches to do her bidding beyond some descendants a few centuries back.

Bonnie was one of the last descendants still running around, and she hadn't had the faintest idea about her family history until Shane had told her about it.

MJ shook her head while starting to put the books into the backpack she'd brought.

Silas was gone, asleep again, The Other Side was in tact, and she didn't need to start asking questions that she didn't need to know the answer too.

If MJ went looking for Amara, it would look like she was trying to destroy The Other Side, and then someone would end up doing it because the universe hated her – and even if MJ did have people she wanted back, she wasn't stupid.

She'd told Silas and Shane no, and she meant it.

Silas was gone.

MJ looked around the room again, taking in the memories it clearly held, then she walked out, re-sealing the tomb with a new spell.

If no one had been able to get in since the Mikaelson's fled, she didn't really want to just leave it unlocked.

She needed to see if Kol's journals had anything from his time with the Essí Floare, and she needed to prepare for her first stop to fix the power store around her neck.

When MJ stepped into the street, she was met by a guy, arms crossed and ready for a fight.

She tried for pleasantries, "Hi?"

"American," He rolled his eyes, a thick accent, "This is private property that you shouldn't be able to enter."

"Soy mitad español," She corrected, "En realidad."

His glare intensified.

"I've re-sealed it," She gestured behind her.

"¿Cómo llegaste allí?"

How did you get in there?

"I broke the spell."

"Not possible."

"Nada es imposible," She mused, "Now, I have things to do today."

When she tried to walk past him, he grabbed her wrist, "Quién eres?"

Good question...who was she?

MJ needed to be careful.

She needed him to let her go, no questions asked, "MiMi Pasare."

It was worth a try.

His hand pulled back, eyes wide.

"Bueno," She channelled her best Elijah and Klaus, "You've heard of me."

He was looking around, "The Originals?"

"None are here," She assured him, "Not yet, anyway."

He knew who she was...

That was interesting.

MJ knew she had a bit of worldwide fame after breaking the Hybrid Curse, and she had associated herself with the Originals after Finn's death too, so she couldn't really go 'I'm not their witch.'

She didn't like finally giving her second identity a face though.

This stranger now knew what she looked like, but he was only one person, and he looked more scared then ready to kidnap her.

"Nice meeting you."

He didn't try to stop her from leaving when she turned from him the second time.

~***~

MJ spent the next two days reading and planning.

Reading the journals was a little addictive, but since she was trying to live a somewhat healthy lifestyle, and she was in Spain, she forced herself to take breaks and go on walks, snapping pictures and eating food,

It wasn't her fault that it was really entertaining to compare Kol and Elijah's version of events.

Kol rarely wrote about himself or his feelings, but Elijah really recorded everything.

MJ had to be careful not to get too lost in it all.

She was in Spain for a reason, the first stop on her mum's list being Valencia, meaning she had to relocate to start un-binding herself from the magic before it overwhelmed her.

According to her mum, some Talle Floare should be in Valencia.

The six Floare groups covered a large range of things.

Aonso, Essí, Talle, Quail, Asey, and Spirit Walkers.

MJ had always found it funny how the Spirit Walkers had such a simple name compared to the other groups, though she knew that was partly because their fancier name had been forgotten over the years.

People preferred the specific label since it really summed up what they did.

If the stories were anything to go by, the witches dedicated their lives to mastering their ability to move between spiritual planes, blurring the line between life and death. They took a semi-permanent residency in the Floare Gate instead of the real world, even letting spirits use their bodies as vessels for unfinished business on the mortal plane.

It was also their job to stop people from doing anything too stupid with Floare magic.

That made MJ relax a little about some of the stunts she'd pulled.

None had shown up on her doorstep, so she couldn't've screwed up too majorly by breaking the stone.

The Aonso Floare were her people, and they were all about healing and wildlife.

With enough power, they could shift into animal forms, and they were masters of making remedies, and since they were so tuned into nature's ingredients, they could track plants – skills MJ had tried to use with the werewolf venom.

Essí and Aonso were incredibly similar, except Essí focused on mental healing rather than physical.

Neither practised offensive magic, only defensive and re-directory.

How to evade, hide, and outlast.

As someone who'd tried running and hiding, MJ hated that mentality, but maybe that was her temper.

If she'd been brought up in a different environment, it might make more sense.

MJ didn't know anything about Quail, other than that they were based in Europe, and the Asey were the group her mum liked to make up stupid stories about when she'd been little, so she couldn't be sure her information on them was entirely accurate.

Ana Ruiz called them the woke-Floare because they were the only non-pacifist group.

However, they were also sacrificial magic specialists, which meant they'd probably want to kill MJ on sight...

Then, the Talle – the group MJ could track once in Valencia.

All Floare had the same base stats, ancient magic in their blood that meant witches could switch groups as they grew up and found their speciality, but most people didn't. Most tended to want to master the magic they'd grown up watching, never learning anything about ancestral magic because they couldn't perform it.

Then there was MJ.

She hadn't grown up in a troupe, she was a bit of a nightmare child when it came to following rules, and she was a New Orleans witch too – she could perform ancestral magic.

In a way, she was starting to realise that she was a living loophole.

"You want to be taken to alter?" A witch asked.

MJ hadn't let herself repeat her New York experience.

She'd found a collection of the witches on a beach, walked straight up to them, introduced herself as Ana Ruiz's daughter, and held up the necklace.

One way to instantly catch their attention.

"If you don't mind," MJ nodded.

'The Alter' was an annoyingly vague term her mother had written at the top of an address, and when MJ had tried googling it, she'd just been given a collection of churches across all of Valencia.

Talking to the Talle Witches, though?

She was sent on a walk with three strangers.

Two of them were drifting behind like guards, watching her every move while a kinder, older lady chatted away to her.

"Ana Ruiz's daughter," The woman mused, "Now that's a legacy."

Her hair was dark brown, and she had skin the same colour as Pri's, meaning she was probably Indian, or Spanish-India.

Quail, Talle, and Aonso were Europe-based, but Europe covered a lot of countries, and people moved. They were travelling witch troupes.

"One I'm only just starting to learn about," MJ admitted.

Her summer was going to be spent travelling the world and putting her faith in strangers because she needed the necklace fixed before September. Honesty might get her set-up for trouble, but it might encourage others to be honest with her too.

She really hoped that was what happened.

"And if I tried to take that necklace to stop you from leaving with it?"

"You'll be electrocuted," MJ had charmed it.

There was a difference between being trusting and being stupid.

The woman laughed, "It'll only be your curse."

"I'll make it work."

Part of her wished she'd grown up in Valencia the way her mother had.

On the few holidays they'd taken when she'd been little, they'd visited for a week – their mum telling them stories about her childhood that MJ was now questioning the validity of.

The beaches were long, fine yellow sand that caught on your legs, driving Ryos mad when they'd get stuck in his shoes, home to the beautiful ocean that MJ would happily live in if it were possible, surrounded by light-coloured buildings.

So much of the city was built from sand stone, and the places that weren't were painted white, orange roofs to somewhat match.

When MJ had been nine, her mum had taken Ryos and her on a tour of the cathedral, telling them ghost stories under her breath as the guide focused on the human tourists.

Part of the tour had involved walking up the tower, to the roof, and looking out at the whole city.

It had been exhausting, the stairs never-ending as she and Ryos raced up them – but the view had been worth it.

That holiday had been the first time she'd been allowed to take control of her mother's phone to take pictures.

MJ had her camera around her neck in the present-day, too, occasionally pausing to take a picture, driving the 'guards' mad.

"I feel like I should ask what you're planning to do at the alter," The lady's tone changed a little, "Magic isn't exactly available there."

"It's not?"

"No."

Her mum hadn't mentioned that.

"What do you mean magic 'isn't available?'" MJ needed magic to do the spell.

"The Travellers wiped the spirits from the land."

MJ shook her head, "Which means?"

Antoni and Ryos had spoken about how Travellers could wipe magic as a theory. They'd said it was tied to the doppelgängers, and MJ was sure there were only four doppelgängers; Amara, Tatia, Katerina, and Elena.

Then she remembered that Silas had doppelgängers, so, for all she knew, the Travellers had captured them or something.

The Travellers, who'd been cursed by the Floare, abandoning their children to save them from the curse...

MJ couldn't just villainize them, could she?

"It was a phase they went through," The woman talked as they walked, reaching an older area of the city.

There was a sweet shop on a corner leading to the main square, children standing in front of it and calling their parents.

Other than that, the street was quiet.

"It became public knowledge that the stone around your neck could be used to break their curse, but the Travellers didn't just want to break it – they wanted to make it so they could never be cursed again."

"Get rid of magic," MJ sighed, "Get rid of curses."

"Spirit Magic specifically."

"But wouldn't that be more harmful to ancestral witches than Floare ones?"

"Spirit magic is mutual," The woman reasoned, "No spirit connections, no witches."

MJ cleared her throat, "I have some questions about the origin of The Floare magic?"

"I'm happy to answer what I can."

"Let me check that I got this right?" She bit her lip, "The Floare cut themselves off from ancestors using a mass sacrifice?"

It was a lot darker than what MJ thought the origin story for a group of pacifists would be.

"You could phrase it that way."

"What other way is there to phrase it?"

"They moved their souls from our realm to a new one," Her voice was light, "It's an act so rare it created a Nexus Vorti that was then immortalised in our bloodline."

"And nearly killed a lot of witches, right?" MJ had to say it, "Holding the power of a new 'realm' in mortal bodies cost a lot of people their lives?"

She shrugged, "Those that came before us found a way to make it work."

"Yeah," MJ started to fiddle with the charm.

"That's all we can do. Try and do better, to save future generations from that fate."

They'd entered a public park, closed for the weekend, and MJ looked over to the picnic area. There was a metal statue of a plane pointing up to the clear blue sky, green bins for people to dump their food in, and a few signs that made it clear the path was for walking only: no bikes, no dogs, and no footballs.

She smiled.

The trees around the hot pavement were tall and thin, palm leaves like paint bristles shooting in all directions.

"What about the Travellers then?" MJ happily followed her to the path, "They hate magic so much nowadays that they don't wanna use it once they're free?"

"Travellers rely on their own life force to do magic."

That was a terrifying thought.

"That's why they only do magic in groups. It lowers the risk of dying."

The more MJ thought about it, the more it made sense.

Witch-versus-witch, a Traveller would never win because their magic was so nullified by the curse, and your own life force wasn't something you should ever rely on when casting a spell, but, for everyday life?

It explained how they could body-jump.

"Their magic would be the only form of magic left."

"I mean," MJ pulled a face, "Sacrificial magic isn't using the spirits; it's using other people's life force, right?"

"So that's all we're left with?" She gave MJ a stern look, "The Dark Arts?"

MJ put her hands up, "Just pointing something out, not saying it as a suggestion."

At the end of the path, a turn led to some stone cut stairs, winding uphill like a snake, tiny boulders lining the sides as they moved through thicker trees and away from the eating area.

MJ could feel it.

With each step, the air became cooler, and her body was torn between relaxing and freaking out.

The lack of magic in the air meant there was nothing for her to pull on, as a Floare or a siphoner.

She didn't have to worry about outing herself as a problem child. She didn't need to worry about hurting anyone by siphoning by accident or losing control.

Nothing.

And she hated it.

MJ needed the safety net of magic.

The knife strapped to the underside of her shirt, laced in vervain, wasn't enough to make her feel safe.

She was with witches.

She had nothing to fear.

If she couldn't do magic, neither could they.

As they neared the top of the stairs, MJ noticed the two escorts loitering about half way down, and she paused, not sure whether to head back down or call out to them.

Was it a sign she was about to be attacked?

Entering the space was like living in an apartment with a tap that wouldn't stop dripping.

The air was dry. The magic was gone. But something was tugging in her gut.

"They don't want to see what I'm about to do with a Floare artefact?" MJ help the necklace up a little.

"We're on once-sacred land," The lady shook her head, "Standing here...it's..."

MJ bit her lip.

She took the step to actually get to the top of the hill.

The path led to a large pile of differently sized rocks mounted together in the middle of the clearing, MJ pressing her foot onto it lightly to test its stability before climbing up to the top.

She stretched out her arms and closed her eyes.

The breeze picked up a little.

Her mum had used the spot.

Was her mum the reason the magic wasn't there anymore?"

"Can you tell me what happened?" MJ sunk to sitting on the top of the pile-up, looking down to her guide.

1976

The first thing Ana felt was her dad's body covering hers.

She hit the ground, wrapped in his arms, ears ringing.

"Wha – "

His hand went over her mouth.

Then the other slapped over her eyes, and all she could hear was someone screaming.

A man screaming for Selma.

"You see this!"

Ana couldn't, in fact, see it.

She couldn't see the looming figure of a person she'd later learn was called Kieran Petwel, holding Selma Reguitta against the pile of stones in the centre of the park hill.

The clearing was the place where her Aonso Troupe gathered for Las Fallas; the blood of every Floare who'd ever died in Valencia dripped onto the stones as part of their burial, blessing the land.

It was where younger ones learnt their first charms.

It was where they'd drink the potions meant to help them learn control, teach them about the spirit planes, and officialise them into a troupe once they were old enough to decide to be a witch or to leave the world of travelling behind.

Ana had only been seven that day.

"Watch!" He roared, digging his thumb into her shoulders as Selma screamed.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, skin turning pale as she fell to her knees, promptly dragged back by her captor, left draped over the sharp rocks, very much dead.

Blood dripped out of her ears, rolling down her face like red spit waiting to decorate the dirt floor.

Ana tried to pry her dad's hand off of her face, but he wasn't letting her see.

Not a chance.

"Vyjdi."

The fight left the body of Selma's husband as everyone went still.

Four people stood up, eyes turning black.

Floare couldn't be possessed, but that didn't mean their human partners were protected.

Suddenly, every human in the area became a potential threat, and Valencia was a city of 700 000 people, all out for the festival.

"My request is simple," The man's voice was calm, "Hand over the Aonso Key, and no one else will have to experience what this lovely lady has."

He kicked Selma's body lightly, causing it to roll, cracking the already dead head as it hit the floor.

"We don't have it," Someone screeched.

"See, I know that's a lie."

"It's not!"

"There are at least two hundred Aonso Floare – what on earth makes you think it's here?"

Silence.

"This doesn't have to be a fight," Selma's husband's eyes were burning as his hand came up, about to break a rule and cast offensive magic.

"Eezol Ehmit Pro," The man began to chant, "Eezol Ehmit Pro."

"No way – you need doppelganger blood – both sets!"

Kieran laughed, "I'm not trying to destroy magic today."

The chanting continued, two of the possessed dolls joining in.

"Eezol Ehmit Pro. Eezol Ehmit Pro."

The human passengers began to shake, blood pouring from their mouths.

"Eezol Ehmit Pro. Eezol Ehmit Pro."

The air turned dusty.

"Eezol Ehmit Pro. Eezol Ehmit Pro."

The four of them collapsed to the floor, their life powering the last spell cast on the land.

"Eezol Ehmit Pro. Eezol Ehmit Pro."

A drumbeat seemed to slam through the ground, causing every witch to experience whiplash until the humans' hearts stopped.

Their deaths stopped the spell.

"If you don't have the key, I'll let this be a warning to whoever does."

And he was gone.

As the hands pulled away, seven-year-old Ana Ruiz was blinded by the sunlight, her dad leaning up to look around.

Then the hand was back over her vision, and she was being carried away.

He wasn't quick enough, though.

She'd seen the body.

A body stripped of magic and left broken, next to the bodies of innocent loved ones who'd been used as hosts, bled out to feed the spell.

Ana could only think of one thing as the corpses burnt into her memory; Why hadn't anyone stopped it?

2011

"Why didn't anyone get in the way?" MJ demanded.

The sun had turned a few plots of grass yellow, dry dirt dimples around what MJ had thought to be well-trodden picnic spots but were, in fact, scars of where those first bodies had fallen.

Other than that, it seemed like a normal and happy place to be.

There were no signs of a fight or destruction.

No magic anywhere, to the point that she was starting to feel sick, deficiency threatening to kick in.

Listening to the woman explain Kieran Petwel and his momentary declaration as King of the Travellers didn't sit right with MJ.

Walking in, removing the magic from an elder, activating four passengers, then using their life force to strip the magic?

The dates didn't match up.

Her mum would've been too young to get involved, and according to the lady, Kieran died trying to repeat the spell in a different location before he could get very far with his necklace hunt.

"No one wanted the hosts to get hurt," She explained, "And...well, hearing a spell that required doppelgänger blood when there hadn't been one in centuries?"

MJ shifted a little.

"No one thought he could actually do it. Why would they put themselves at risk when they didn't think the spell would work?"

"Because it's better to be safe than sorry?"

The woman smiled slyly, thinking about something she wasn't going to share.

"Whatever," MJ couldn't change the past, "You said Floare would die if the spell was cast. How come they didn't?"

"It wasn't the full version of the spell," The woman summed up, "The full version needs the blood from all 'living' doppelgängers, to my understanding – it's not like I've ever seen a Traveller Grimoire...We've just been taught to keep an eye out for doppelgängers."

MJ kept the blankest expression she nodded.

"And Katherine Pierce?" The lady pulled a face, "I think that's her name? She's the only one still running around."

MJ played dumb, "Who's that?"

"Some vampire who's supposed to be untraceable," She waved her hand, "Vampire business isn't your concern...the spell he used removed the magic from the area, taking away our sacred land, and removing the connection we had to the spirits and their realm in the city."

MJ looked at the stones her hand was resting on.

She closed her eyes again.

Her mother had sent her there.

A hotspot connected to the stones' power and the spirits – and linked to the history.

A place where magic didn't work right.

"Nettoyer Yo Monde Tavo."

"You can't use magic here."

"You might not be able to," MJ grabbed the necklace and stood up, wobbling a little, beginning to go through the steps she needed to perform in her head, "I will."

She needed to keep her eyes closed, and she needed to keep her breathing steady, pulling a knife out of her jacket.

"Nettoyer Yo Monde Tavo."

MJ began to walk around the boulders, cutting open her palms.

"Melan Veras."

The blade sliced at the back of her knuckles before she dropped it.

"What do you think – "

MJ wiped the knuckles across her cheeks, then in arcs on her forehead, "Nettoyer Yo Monde Tavo."

The wind picked up.

"Melan Veras."

She tapped her heel down twice and turned.

"Nettoyer Yo Monde Tavo."

A song flittered in on the wind, the note MJ could hear whenever she tried to connect herself to power she shouldn't have access to turning into a melody.

"Nettoyer Yo Monde Tavo."

She held her arms out, beginning to wring her wrists together, spinning again, like the stone pile was a fire pit, and she was a child listening to the Pied Piper lead her away from reality, tricked into dancing through the night.

"Melan Veras."

The song got louder, and her blood began to boil, hissing out of the cuts and jumping off her skin, voices joining together to create an ensemble singing in round, lapping together to reclaim their performance space, enchanting it once again.

"Nettoyer Yo Monde Tavo."

MJ needed to focus no matter how badly she wanted to scream.

She couldn't stop breathing, but every second it was harder too.

Something was pulling against her throat, like a wire choking her as needles dug into her wrists, yanking her arms apart and reminding her that, most of the time, they were all just puppets to the universe.

"Melan Veras."

She's completed two circuits of the rock, and her skin was shaking as her veins lit up like glow sticks, the trees beginning to roar.

The guards ran up the stairs looking around as the sun seemed to vanish.

They could hear it too.

They could hear the beautiful sirens in MJ's mind, encouraging them to swim over to their island and let their souls be lost forever.

"Nettoyer Yo Monde Tavo."

The howling became focused, blasted out from the centre of the pile, echoing around – deafening, but not screams – not cries from spirits that had been burnt or killed, just a collection of voices who longed to be heard after years of nothing.

"Melan Veras."

MJ didn't know what spell the Traveller had performed, but she knew it hadn't stripped magic from the space; it had nullified it. Trapped it just out of reach.

But she was bleeding excess magic.

"Nettoyer Yo Monde Tavo."

Now she was there, MJ could understand her mother's notes a little better, especially when combined with Kol's.

Representational magic, combined with a power manipulation spell, a cleansing charm, and a spiritual mending one into a ridiculously complicated performance that saved MJ's life and got her into the spirits good graces as the person who return them to peace.

What MJ didn't understand was why her mother hadn't healed the space if she'd been there before.

"Melan Veras."

As her blood turned from red to gold – not just a glow, but actual liquid dripping out from her cuts, metallic and sparkling, the noise disappeared in a crash.

MJ opened her eyes.

The itch up her arms was back, energy racing through her body as she stood on a spot imbued with magic.

A weight she hadn't even noticed on her shoulders was gone.

The cold blanket of power ready to smother her the moment she let her guard down had been pulled off her back and dissolved into nothing.

She looked to the other witches, "You feel that?"

"...I do..." Their eyes were filled with caution.

"That's you guys getting your spiritual hot spot back."

One of the guards finally spoke, "You're a siphoner."

"And you are very welcome."

No way was MJ about to let him kill the moment.

Not a chance.

She'd just tapped into pure nature magic, the last remaining thing in the area, and re-tied the energy of spirits lost years prior, giving power back to the Floare settled in her mother's home city while starting to heal her own situation.

Nothing was going to kill her good mood.

Not even the fact that MJ knew she would collapse for a least a day the moment she was back in her hotel room, blood loss and magic making her woozy.

a/n: This was a lead-in chapter, so I'm not sure how interesting it was, but the next two are Mikaelson History centric.

Every title is a movie reference, TVD used references a lot and every Originals Title has a connection so I thought I'd give it a try :) Enjoy - Bea xx