SALVATORE BOARDING HOUSE

The next day, Stefan and Caroline stood outside Stefan's bedroom door, their expressions etched with deep concern as they attempted to coax Aella out of her self-imposed isolation. The weight of their worry hung heavy in the air, mingling with the tension emanating from behind the closed door like a thick fog of uncertainty and despair.

From the other side, muffled voices echoed, the sound of Aella's stubborn refusal sending a pang of helplessness through Stefan and Caroline's hearts. Each word spoken seemed to drive a wedge deeper between them, a painful reminder of the rift that had formed in their once-unbreakable bond.

Inside the room, Aella paced back and forth, her movements mirroring the turmoil raging within her. Each step seemed to echo the weight of her guilt, a burden too heavy to bear as she grappled with the consequences of her decisions. Her heart felt like it was being torn apart with every beat, each thud resonating with the pain of her regret.

"They trusted me," Aella muttered, knowing the two vampires would hear her, her voice tinged with self-recrimination. "I led them into this mess. I trusted Elijah, convinced them to trust him too."

Stefan's voice, soft and soothing, floated through the door, his attempts to comfort Aella met with stubborn resistance. But beneath his gentle words, there was a thread of desperation, a plea for Aella to let them in, to let them help her bear the weight of her guilt.

"You did what you thought was right, Aella," he urged, his tone gentle but unwavering. "Elijah convinced all of us. You couldn't have known what Klaus would do. We'll find a way to make things right."

But Aella's bitter scoff cut through his reassurances like a knife, her self-blame resounding in the confined space. The ache in her chest grew with every passing moment, a constant reminder of the pain she had caused, the lives she had unwittingly shattered.

"Bonnie didn't see it that way," she retorted, her voice laced with resentment. "She thinks I'm selfish, that I should have sacrificed myself instead of letting John die, instead of Grams, instead of her. Maybe she was right."

Caroline's frustration bubbled to the surface, her emotions boiling over as she struggled to contain her own turmoil. Tears welled in her eyes, her heart breaking for her friend, who was suffering behind closed doors.

"Don't be so dramatic, Aella!" she exclaimed, her words punctuated by the stomp of her foot. "That's my thing, remember? If you take that away from me, I swear I'll kill myself and then somehow come back alive and kill you!"

Stefan shot Caroline a warning glance, silencing her with a single raised brow. Caroline's outburst faded into a sheepish shrug as Aella's retort cut through the tension.

"Go ahead," Aella challenged, her voice devoid of emotion. "At least then we can be together in hell—the betrayer and the harlot."

Caroline's eyes widened at the insult, and she went to break down the door, but Stefan quickly intervened before Caroline could escalate the situation further. His voice was steady and measured as he attempted to reason with Aella.

"Tomorrow is John's funeral, Aella," he stated gently. "Elena needs us."

But Aella's resolve remained unyielding, her decision final as she shut herself off from the world outside her door. The weight of her grief felt like an anchor dragging her down, pulling her further into the depths of despair.

"I'm not going," she declared, her voice a mere whisper against the deafening silence of the room. "Elena hates me. I'm the last person she wants to see."

Caroline moved to argue, but Stefan's raised hand halted her protests. With a solemn nod, he motioned for Caroline to leave, acknowledging that Aella needed time to grapple with her demons alone.

Reluctantly, Caroline acquiesced, casting one last worried glance at the closed door before following Stefan away from the scene of their impasse.

Alone in the room, chaos reigned supreme. Papers littered the floor like confetti after a wild party, each one bearing the weight of Aella's feverish scribbles. Her tired green eyes darted back and forth, tracing the lines of her notes as she struggled to decipher the enigmatic memories she'd unearthed from Elijah's past.

Memory after memory flashed through her mind like scenes from a disjointed film reel, each one leaving her more bewildered than the last.

In one fragment, a young Elijah and Klaus stand in a forest clearing, dressed in simple garb. Elijah's patient voice echoes in her ears as he coaches Klaus in archery, their bond evident even in their playful banter.

"Be still. Deep breath. Hold... NOW!" Elijah's command rang out, followed by the twang of the bowstring and the thud of a missed shot.

Another memory painted a picture of sibling camaraderie, with Klaus and Elijah engaged in a mock sword fight. A blonde girl and a younger boy watched on with gleeful anticipation, adding to the jovial atmosphere.

"Oh look, our sister has arrived to watch my fast-approaching victory!" Elijah quipped, his sword flashing in the sunlight.

"On the contrary, Elijah..." Klaus retorted, his swing slicing through Elijah's belt with precision. "She's come to laugh at you!"

Laughter erupted, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the clink of metal against metal.

But amidst the laughter lurked shadows of uncertainty, like whispers in the wind. In another memory, Elijah stood with a faceless woman in a forest clearing, their words laced with an unspoken tenderness that sent shivers down Aella's spine.

"Fate does not dictate my heart, Elijah," the woman's voice, though blurred, carried a weight of emotion. "I choose you, Elijah."

The memory dissolved into flames, engulfing a massive oak tree as Elijah and his siblings looked on, their faces etched with a mixture of awe and sorrow.

And then there were the graveside confessions, where promises of loyalty and unity hung heavy in the air like the scent of impending rain.

"I know you think she hated you, Niklaus," the blonde girl's voice was soft but resolute. "We stick together as one. Always and forever."

But amidst the echoes of camaraderie, darker undertones lurked in the shadows. In a town bustling with life, Elijah and Klaus walked side by side, their refined attire a stark contrast to the rustic setting.

"He's putting on quite the show," Elijah remarked, his tone tinged with amusement.

"Still, you should heed the warning," Klaus replied, his voice dripping with disdain. "Stories of the Original vampires are spreading."

As the memories swirled around her like a tempest, Aella felt a chill settle in her bones. Locked away in Stefan's bedroom, she was adrift in a sea of uncertainty, her only lifeline the fragments of Elijah's past that threatened to unravel the very fabric of her reality.

However, amidst the jumble of papers, the fractured memories, one place leaped out, bold and stark against the backdrop of confusion:

In one memory, she found herself transported to a bygone era, where Elijah, Klaus, and a mysterious blonde woman stood on a dock, their attire dripping with 18th-century elegance. The air was thick with the scent of salt and adventure as Elijah addressed a faceless man with a regal air, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.

"Niklaus, your manners are, as always, without equal," Elijah intoned, his words a sharp contrast to the unfamiliar surroundings. "Sir, would you be so good as to tell us where it is that we have landed?"

"The French colony of Louisiana, off the shores of a town they have named New Orleans."

But as quickly as the scene had materialized, it dissolved into another memory, one of opulence and luxury. Elijah, Klaus, and the enigmatic blonde woman lounged in decadent surroundings, servants bustling about to attend to their every whim. It was a world of privilege and excess, a stark departure from the simplicity of their previous existence.

Yet amid the lavish trappings, Aella sensed an undercurrent of tension, like a storm gathering on the horizon. In another memory, she found herself a silent witness to a clandestine encounter between Elijah and a Creole woman, their words laced with secrets and regret.

"Your brother. He's gone too far," the Creole woman whispered, her voice tinged with sorrow.

"Niklaus, there is no hope for you, is there?" Elijah's reply was tinged with resignation, his eyes betraying a flicker of doubt.

As the memories continued to unravel, Aella felt herself drawn deeper into the tangled web of Elijah's past. She witnessed moments of joy and camaraderie, of love and sacrifice, each fragment adding another layer to the complex tapestry of his existence.

But amidst the moments of light, darkness lurked in the shadows. Aella watched as Klaus struggled with his inner demons, his bond with Elijah was tested time and time again. She saw the pain etched on Elijah's face as he grappled with impossible choices, torn between loyalty to his family and the call of his own heart.

And then, amidst the chaos of it all, came a moment of unexpected clarity. In the midst of a crowded club, Elijah and Klaus stood side by side, their eyes alight with a shared sense of triumph.

"Well, this is a first," Klaus remarked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Werewolves, vampires, witches, and dirty cops. All happy as clams and drunk as stoats."

"Who would have thought it possible? The unification of New Orleans?" Elijah's tone was one of wonder, his gaze sweeping over the bustling crowd.

"We did it, brother," Klaus declared, a rare smile gracing his lips as he clapped Elijah on the shoulder.

And at that moment, as the echoes of their laughter filled the air, Aella felt a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos:

New Orleans

New Orleans, the vibrant jewel of Louisiana, was a city steeped in a rich tapestry of culture, history, and rhythm. Nestled along the mighty Mississippi River, its streets were alive with the soulful melodies of jazz and the tantalizing aroma of Creole cuisine.

With a heavy sigh that seemed to reverberate through the room, Aella lowered herself to the floor, her fingers tracing the letters of the elusive phrase. It hung in the air like a whispered secret, teasing her with promises of hidden truths and untold mysteries.

But amidst the turmoil, one thread emerged, weaving its way through the tangled tapestry of memories like a lifeline.

It was the tale of Marcellus, a young boy thrust into the tumultuous world of the Mikaelsons, his fate intertwined with theirs in ways Aella had yet to comprehend.

In one memory, she watched as Klaus bestowed upon the boy a name, a gift that spoke volumes of his hopes and dreams for the child's future.

"You're a survivor, and survivors need names," Klaus declared, his voice tinged with pride. "How about Marcellus?"

Elijah watching on proudly, "Perhaps there is hope for our brother, after all."

And in that moment, Aella sensed a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a beacon of light in the midst of uncertainty.

In another memory, she witnessed Elijah's unwavering faith in the boy, his belief in Marcellus's potential echoing through the corridors of time like a mantra of hope.

"Now, you once said the same thing of your reading, and now you devour everything from sonnets to scriptures," Elijah remarked, his smile a balm to Aella's troubled soul. "So, devote yourself to your music, and soon you shall be Johann Sebastian Bach."

But amidst the echoes of encouragement, discord lingered like a shadow in the night. In a heated exchange between Klaus and Elijah, Aella glimpsed the rift that threatened to tear their fragile family apart.

"You envy my bond with Marcellus?" Elijah's words were laced with frustration, his gaze piercing through the veil of uncertainty. "He's no longer safe here. I cannot allow him to remain."

But Klaus, ever the stubborn one, refused to back down, his determination unwavering in the face of adversity.

"That 'little whelp' is our family!" Klaus declared, his voice a thunderclap in the silence of the room. "Marcellus stays."

And as the memories unfolded, Aella found herself drawn deeper into the intricate web of alliances and betrayals that defined the Mikaelson dynasty. With each fragment, she pieced together the puzzle of Marcellus's role in their tumultuous saga, his presence a catalyst for change amidst the chaos.

As she pondered the cryptic message before her, the allure of New Orleans beckoned, a tantalizing enigma waiting to be unraveled. Beyond the familiar confines of her small town lay a city veiled in shadows, its secrets lurking in the depths of the bayou.

But there was more than mere curiosity driving Aella's desire to unlock the mystery. Hidden within the shadows of New Orleans, she sensed a glimmer of hope—a chance to finally do something right, to put an end to Klaus's reign of terror once and for all.

With determination burning in her eyes, Aella knew that the answers she sought lay beyond the horizon, in a city steeped in history and rife with intrigue. As she contemplated her next move, the allure of New Orleans grew stronger, pulling her into its tangled web of mystery and uncertainty. Uncovering the secrets of the city could hold the key to destroying Klaus and bringing peace to their troubled world.

GILBERT RESIDENCE

Damon and Alaric stood downstairs, dressed in somber funeral attire, the weight of the day heavy on their shoulders.

Ric glanced at Damon, his expression tense with anticipation. "All good?"

Damon nodded, adjusting his black tie with a quick tug. "Yeah. Plenty of room with the Gilbert family plot, and I compelled two of the gravediggers to do the dirty work. How's she doing?"

Ric let out a scoff, his thoughts drifting to Elena. Since her tearful sobs over John's body had subsided, she had been eerily silent. "She lost another parent, whether or not he was a douche. He was her dad; she's in shock."

Meanwhile, upstairs in her room, Elena meticulously placed her earrings in, her movements deliberate but mechanical. Her gaze lingered on the pictures surrounding the frame of her mirror, her eyes drawn to one in particular — a photo of her parents, Grayson and Miranda.

"Fixed it." Jenna, standing by the bed, approached Elena with a necklace in hand. It was the same necklace John had given Elena when she was just a little girl, tangled in her jewelry box. Jenna had carefully untangled it and now placed it around Elena's neck, her touch gentle yet comforting.

"They'd be so proud of you, kiddo," Jenna murmured, her voice filled with warmth and affection as she squeezed Elena around the waist.

Jenna's words hung in the air, lingering like a comforting embrace as Elena smiled faintly at her reflection in the mirror. She remained silent, her emotions roiling beneath the surface as she absorbed Jenna's sentiment.

Suddenly, the sound of knuckles rapping against the doorway broke the stillness, and Jeremy leaned casually against the frame, his presence a familiar comfort in the midst of their shared grief. Jenna kissed Elena's head before leaving the room, her departure marking the beginning of a private moment between the two siblings.

As Elena finished placing her earrings in, she turned to face Jeremy, her expression composed but tinged with sadness.

"I'm almost ready," she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeremy sighed heavily, the weight of their loss heavy on his shoulders as he played with the letter in his hand.

"Yeah, take your time," he replied, his tone gentle yet laden with the weight of their shared sorrow. "Anna's still freaking out there's not enough food."

Elena offered him a small, understanding smile. Anna, dealing with Sheila's death in her own way, had thrown herself into baking and cooking non-stop since they had received the news. Her belief that food was the cure to sadness had led her to pour her heart into preparing for the funeral gathering.

Jeremy held out the letter to Elena, his expression somber as he spoke.

"John wanted me to give you this," he said quietly, his voice tinged with emotion.

Elena accepted the letter from him without a word, her eyes fixed on the familiar handwriting scrawled across the envelope. Jeremy retrieved the magical ring from his pocket and handed it to her as well, his movements slow and deliberate.

"And this." Elena hesitated for a moment before taking the ring, her fingers trembling slightly as she looked up at Jeremy. Tears glistened in her eyes as she smiled tearfully at him, a silent expression of gratitude and understanding passing between them.

Jeremy nodded, his own emotions raw as he turned to leave the room. But something held him back, a sense of duty and responsibility that compelled him to speak the truth.

"Aella's not coming," he blurted out, his words hanging heavy in the air.

Elena's heart skipped a beat as Jeremy's words hung heavy in the air. Aella—her enigmatic friend, her steadfast ally—was conspicuously absent from the somber occasion. The news sent a chill down Elena's spine, a pang of worry gnawing at her insides. She hadn't seen Aella since the clearing, their last encounter shrouded in tension and unspoken emotions. John's passing, coupled with Sheila's death, had cast a shadow over Elena's thoughts, leaving her grappling with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

"She's locked herself away in Stefan's room," Jeremy explained, his voice tinged with concern. "Even Stefan and Caroline can't get her out. Caroline said that Bonnie said some pretty rough things after Sheila had died."

Elena's silence spoke volumes as she processed the information, her mind racing with unanswered questions and unspoken fears. Aella's withdrawal felt like a betrayal, a fracture in their once unbreakable bond that left Elena feeling adrift and uncertain.

"She made me swear I wouldn't hate her," Elena confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeremy's brow lifted with curiosity, his gaze searching hers for answers.

"She told you?" he inquired, his tone tinged with surprise.

Elena shook her head slowly, her expression tinged with sadness.

"No," she murmured softly. "She tried, and I just kept telling her that whatever she did, it was because it was the only way. No matter what, I trusted her."

A tearful laugh escaped Elena's lips, her emotions bubbling to the surface as she reflected on the tumultuous events that had unfolded.

"I never expected it to be this," she admitted, her voice catching with emotion.

Jeremy's next question hung in the air, the weight of it palpable as Elena's response came without hesitation.

"Do you blame her?" Jeremy asked, his gaze searching hers for any hint of doubt.

But Elena's answer was immediate, her resolve unyielding as she shook her head before Jeremy could even finish his question.

"Never," she asserted firmly, her voice unwavering. "I can't blame her when she tried everything to save me."

Jeremy smiled knowingly at his sister, a silent understanding passing between them as he acknowledged the depth of her loyalty and compassion.

"It's not me you should be telling this to," he pointed out gently, his tone filled with empathy.

Elena returned his smile, struck by the maturity and wisdom he displayed in the face of their shared loss.

"I'm so sorry that you've lost so many people," she murmured, her heart aching for her brother's pain.

Jeremy responded with a cheeky smile, his usual humor shining through even in their darkest moments.

"I still have you," he quipped playfully. "Though, I wouldn't mind more bathroom time in the morning..."

Jeremy's attempt at levity brought a soft chuckle from Elena, a brief moment of lightheartedness amidst the weight of their shared grief. She leaned into her brother's comforting embrace, savoring the warmth and familiarity of his presence. His arms enveloped her in a protective embrace, offering solace in their shared sorrow.

As they parted, Elena's gaze met Jeremy's, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them. With a nod, Jeremy left the room, his departure signaling the beginning of Elena's solitary contemplation.

Left alone, Elena made her way to the window seat, her steps measured and deliberate. She settled onto the cushion, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the warmth of her emotions. Her eyes drifted to the letter in her hand, its weight a tangible reminder of the task ahead.

Beside the letter lay a photograph, a snapshot of happier times captured in vibrant hues. Elena's heart ached as she gazed at the image, the faces of her friends—Aella, Bonnie, and Caroline—frozen in a moment of unbridled joy. It was a poignant reminder of the bonds that had sustained her through countless trials and tribulations.

With resolve in her heart, Elena carefully tucked the letter into her bag, its contents a secret burden she bore alone. Rising from her seat, she cast one last glance at the photograph, drawing strength from the memories it held.

Determined, Elena left her bedroom behind, the weight of her decision heavy upon her shoulders. Descending the stairs, she passed Ric and Damon waiting below, her steps purposeful and unwavering.

"I'll meet you there," she called over her shoulder, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I have something I need to do."

SALVATORE BOARDING HOUSE

In the dimly lit confines of Stefan's bedroom, Aella found herself immersed in a whirlwind of research. Papers covered every inch of available space, creating a chaotic mosaic of knowledge that she sifted through with determined focus. Her tired green eyes darted back and forth across the faded ink of centuries-old documents, each page a window into the history of New Orleans in the 1800s.

But her solitary pursuit was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door, shattering the quiet sanctuary she had created. With a furrowed brow, she braced herself for another attempt to coax her out, ready to unleash her frustration upon the intruder. However, as another knock echoed through the room, Aella hesitated, sensing a shift in the air.

In a swift motion, she rose from her chair and swung the door open, only to be met with a sight that froze her in place. Before her stood Elena, dressed in somber funeral attire, her presence a stark contrast to the disarray of Stefan's bedroom.

Aella's gaze instinctively fell to her own disheveled appearance, her attire a mismatched ensemble of sweatpants and a hoodie, hardly fitting for such a solemn occasion. Embarrassment tinged her cheeks as Elena's blunt observation cut through the silence.

"What you're wearing is not funeral attire," Elena stated matter-of-factly, her unwavering gaze fixing upon Aella.

Aella's heart sank as a pang of guilt gnawed at her insides, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment under Elena's penetrating gaze. Before she could muster an explanation, Elena breezed past her, her eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of the papers strewn across the walls and floor like a chaotic tapestry.

Aella managed a weak smile, her discomfort palpable as Elena casually deposited her bag on the only surface free of clutter—the bed. With a furrowed brow and hands planted firmly on her hips, Elena turned to face Aella, her expression a mix of concern and frustration.

"What the hell is going on here?" Elena demanded, her voice sharp with urgency. "Stefan said you haven't left this room in days, and Caroline is practically tearing her hair out with worry."

Aella hesitated, unsure of where to begin untangling the mess she found herself in. But Elena, undeterred, shrugged off her hesitation.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me," Elena declared firmly, her resolve unyielding.

Aella's voice, raspy from disuse, faltered as she met Elena's unwavering gaze. "You're going to miss John's funeral," she finally managed to choke out.

Elena cocked her hip, brushing off the gravity of the situation with a casual wave of her hand. "Then I'm missing it," she replied, her tone resigned. "Because it looks like you've lost your mind. And you're more important."

Aella bristled at the implication, her grief and guilt rising within her like a tempest on the horizon. With a sharp retort, she lashed out, unable to contain her emotions any longer.

"You can't care for the person who killed your dad," Aella declared, her words heavy with guilt.

Aella's heart felt heavy with grief as she stood before Elena, her emotions swirling like a turbulent sea. Elena's demeanor was profoundly uncertain, a hesitancy born from the complexity of their situation. Aella couldn't blame her; after all, she had played a pivotal role in the events that led to John's sacrifice. The weight of that knowledge hung heavy between them, casting a shadow over their interaction.

Instead of engaging in a confrontation, Elena reached into her bag and withdrew a letter, a tangible relic of the man who had made the ultimate sacrifice for her sake. Aella observed in silence as Elena held the letter delicately in her hands, her expression a canvas of uncertainty painted with the brushstrokes of emotion.

"Jeremy gave this to me before I came here," Elena explained softly, her fingertips tracing the words etched on the page.

"Have you read it?" Aella inquired gently, her voice a blend of curiosity and apprehension.

Elena shook her head, her eyes fixed on the letter as if it held the answers to questions she dared not ask aloud. "I'm scared to," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I hated John more than I ever loved him, and now... I don't know what I should feel. What I should feel about him sacrificing himself for me. What I should feel about you being the one to direct him to that spell. About Bonnie performing it."

Elena felt a pang of sympathy for Aella when she winced at her blunt admission, understanding the turmoil that must be raging within her. She took a tentative step closer, as if seeking to bridge the emotional chasm that yawned between them. "Maybe... maybe we can find some clarity in his final words," she ventured, her own uncertainty echoing in her voice.

Aella immediately shook her head, her expression filled with concern. "You should read it alone. John wrote it for you."

But Elena was resolute, shaking her head with determination. She waved the letter between them, her resolve unwavering. "I think what we need to hear is in this letter," she declared, her voice infused with newfound strength.

Aella hesitated, feeling the weight of Elena's insistence pressing upon her. Yet, after a moment of silent contemplation, she relented, recognizing the significance of facing this moment together.

They settled side by side on the edge of Stefan's bed, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation as the weight of John's words hung in the air between them. With a deep breath, Elena began to read, and Aella listened:

'Elena...it's no easy task being an ordinary parent to an extraordinary child. I failed in that task. And because of my prejudices, I failed you.'

As the words escaped Elena's trembling lips, tears welled in her eyes, cascading down her cheeks in silent streams of grief. Aella reached out instinctively, her hand finding Elena's and squeezing it tightly in a silent gesture of support. When Elena's voice faltered under the weight of her sorrow, Aella gently took the letter from her trembling hand, her own heart aching with empathy.

'I'm haunted by how things might have played out differently. If I'd been more willing to hear your side of things. For me, it's the end. For you, a chance to grow old and someday do better with your own child than I did with mine. It's for that child that I give you my ring.

Confusion clouded Aella's features as she turned to Elena, but Elena reached into her pocket and retrieved the Gilbert Ring, passing it to Aella with a solemn reverence. It was a symbol of their intertwined fates, a bond that transcended time and circumstance. Aella offered a small smile, passing the ring back to Elena as she continued to read.

'I don't ask for your forgiveness or for you to forget. I ask only that you believe this. Whether you are now reading this as a human or as a vampire, I love you all the same as I've always loved you, and always will. John.'

As Aella read the postscript, tears blurred her vision, her sobs mingling with Elena's. Elena turned to her friend, confusion etched on her tear-streaked face, only to dissolve into laughter as she read John's final words.

P.s Don't hate the witch; she may be a pain in the ass, but she's your greatest asset and will protect you when I couldn't.

Elena turned to her sobbing friend, her heart breaking at the sight of Aella's anguish. Tears shimmered in Elena's eyes, threatening to spill over as she struggled to find the right words to offer solace to her grieving friend. "I think that answers what we needed," Elena whispered softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Aella shook her head, her tears flowing freely as waves of guilt crashed over her. Without hesitation, Elena pulled Aella close, enveloping her in a warm embrace, her arms a shield against the storm of emotions that threatened to consume them both. Aella's sobs echoed in the small space, each one a testament to the weight of her sorrow and regret. Elena held her tight, allowing Aella to release the pent-up emotions that had been building inside her for days.

As Aella continued to weep, her voice choked with tears, she repeated the words like a broken mantra, "I'm so sorry, Elena." Her remorse hung heavy in the air, a tangible presence that weighed on both of their hearts.

Elena's heart clenched at the sound of Aella's sorrow, her own tears mingling with Aella's as she rocked them gently back and forth. But her anguish turned to shock when Aella whispered through her sobs, "Bonnie's right, it should have been me."

Elena pulled back, her eyes wide with disbelief and horror. "Don't you ever say something so stupid again, do you hear me?" she admonished, her voice trembling with emotion.

Aella's sobs faltered at the harshness in Elena's tone, her guilt laid bare before her friend's unwavering gaze. "But she's right-" Aella began, her voice wavering with self-blame.

Elena cut through Aella's self-condemnation with fierce determination. "You told me again and again that you had done something, and I promised you that whatever it was, I would never hate you. And I stick to that," she declared, her voice unwavering despite the tears that streaked her cheeks. "John knew what he was doing, and for the first time, he acted like a father. I don't blame you. I blame the one person who made us make these awful decisions; Klaus. He did this. Not you, not me, not John. Klaus. Do you understand?"

Aella nodded tearfully, her heart aching with the weight of Elena's forgiveness and understanding. Elena pulled her into another embrace, holding her close as they weathered the storm of emotions together, bound by the unbreakable bond of friendship and shared grief.

As Aella and Elena parted from their tearful embrace, the weight of the impending funeral hung heavy in the air, casting a somber pall over the room. Aella's voice trembled slightly as she spoke, her words laced with emotion, "I better get ready. You can't miss your dad's funeral."

Elena nodded solemnly, her gaze filled with concern as she watched Aella's every move. Aella sniffed herself, a self-conscious gesture amidst their grief, and a soft chuckle escaped her lips, offering a brief respite from the heaviness of the moment. "I think I'll take a quick shower and find something suitable," she quipped, her attempt at humor a feeble beacon of light in the midst of their emotional storm.

Elena waved her friend on, her eyes scanning the room as Aella disappeared into the bathroom. The scattered papers strewn across the floor drew her attention, each one a silent testament to Aella's inner turmoil. Crudely drawn images adorned the pages, depicting scenes of both innocence and violence, each one a glimpse into the complexity of Aella's psyche.

One drawing captured two boys in a hunting stance, their determined expressions betraying a sense of urgency. Another portrayed two men engaged in a playful sword fight, while a girl and a boy watched on with gleeful fascination. But it was the depiction of bloodied figures, surrounded by others with blood-stained mouths, that churned Elena's stomach with unease. And a final image, depicting a blazing tree reaching toward the sky, sent a shiver down her spine, its symbolism ominous and foreboding.

Elena's gaze shifted to a paper pinned to the wall, its stark black letters spelling out 'New Orleans' next to another word in the same dark ink: Marcellus. The weight of those words hung heavily in the air, their significance ominous and unsettling.

When Aella emerged from the bathroom, her hair still damp and a black dress hastily thrown on, Elena couldn't ignore the palpable tension that lingered between them. "What is all this?" she questioned, her voice betraying her concern.

Aella attempted to evade Elena's probing gaze with a quick glance at the clock, but Elena remained steadfast in her insistence. "I told you, I'm not leaving until you tell me," she stated firmly, her resolve unyielding. "I'd miss John's funeral for you because it looks like you've lost your mind."

Aella's breath caught in her throat, her guilt laid bare before Elena's unwavering scrutiny. With a heavy sigh, she finally relented, her admission laden with regret, "I did a thing."

Elena's eyes widened in shock as she processed Aella's admission. "What kind of thing?" she pressed, her voice tinged with concern, her eyes searching Aella's for answers.

Aella tried to wave off her admission, her hands trembling slightly as she quickly brushed her wet hair and attempted to braid it. But Elena could see through her feeble attempts to deflect the conversation, noticing how Aella's hands shook with nervous energy and how she fumbled with her hair.

"Stop," Elena intervened gently, stepping closer to Aella. "You're going to go to John's funeral with a bald spot if you keep that up."

Reluctantly, Aella allowed Elena to take over, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions as Elena deftly braided her hair. As Elena worked behind her, Aella finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, "I confronted Elijah."

Elena's hands paused mid-braid. Her shock was evident as she processed Aella's words. "You what?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Aella winced as Elena's fingers tightened around her hair, but she nodded, her voice trembling as she continued, "I was so angry after Grams died, and then Damon..." She trailed off, the memories of her confrontation with Damon still fresh in her mind.

Damon's words echoed in her ears, haunting and accusatory.

'Because of your foolishness, we're all paying the price.'

Damon more than anyone, Aella thought grimly.

Elena's eyes narrowed in concern. Her fingers were gentle as she untangled a knot in Aella's hair. "What did Damon do?" she questioned, her voice soft but insistent.

Aella tried to wave Elena away, but Elena refused to be deterred. With a firm tug on Aella's hair, she forced her friend to meet her gaze, her eyes filled with compassion and understanding. "Tell me," she urged gently.

With a deep breath, Aella relented, her voice hollow as she admitted, "Damon told me the truth. If I hadn't trusted Elijah, maybe this would all be different."

Elena's heart clenched at Aella's words, her own guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders. "Aella, you can't blame yourself," she insisted, her voice filled with conviction. "Caroline and I helped wake up Elijah, too. We thought he was on our side. How were we supposed to know that Klaus would tell him about his family?

Aella's gaze drifted to the drawing of the laughing family, her mind filled with Elijah's words echoing in her ears: Always and forever. But now, doubts crept in, fueled by the memories she had witnessed in Elijah's mind. If she had delved deeper into his memories before, she, too, would have questioned their relationship.

Elena's words echoed in her mind, and Aella couldn't help but feel a pang of uncertainty gnawing at her insides.

Aella's heart raced with urgency as she felt the weight of time pressing down upon her. Despite Elena's reluctance to attend her own father's funeral, driven by her fear that Aella was losing her mind, Aella couldn't allow them to delay any longer. With each passing moment, the funeral drew closer, and they had to face it head-on.

As Elena finished tying off the braid, Aella flashed her a wide smile, hoping to reassure her friend in the midst of their turmoil. "I promise you, Elena, I'm not losing my mind," she swore, her voice laced with determination. "I'll explain everything later, but right now, we have to leave."

Reluctantly, Elena nodded, her own apprehension mirrored in her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she agreed to accompany Aella, knowing that they couldn't afford to delay any longer. Together, they left Stefan's bedroom, each step heavy with the weight of their emotions.

However, as they reached the doorway, Aella hesitated, a sense of unease settling over her. With a muttered incantation under her breath, she watched as the writing and drawings on the papers disappeared, leaving behind nothing but blank sheets. It was a small act, but one that brought a sense of closure to the chaos that had consumed her sanctuary.

With a heavy heart, Aella followed Elena out of the room, steeling herself for the difficult journey ahead.