"𝒾 𝓅𝓇ℴ𝓂𝒾𝓈ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊'𝓇ℯ ℯ𝓃ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽,
𝓎ℴ𝓊'𝓇ℯ ℯ𝓃ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽, 𝓎ℴ𝓊'𝓇ℯ ℯ𝓃ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽"

"Derek? Derek, you bloody idiot, wake up!" Ophelia huffs a sigh in frustration as her palm slaps the man's cheek for the fifth time, and his eyes only flutter open slightly from the harsh contact. Stiles huffs a sigh and hovers his clenched fist right over Derek's eye. "Oh, wow, he's going to kill you for that," she comments with a laugh. Right before he can punch the werewolf,Derek's hand shoots up from his side and tightly wraps around Stiles' wrist."Morning!"

Breathing heavily, he tilts his head to the side and tries to look around the hallway that is flickering in and out of light. "Where is she?"

"Jenny? Gone, along with Melissa," Ophelia answers him grimly.

Derek's eyes widen and he looks between the teenagers in surprise and anger, although it isn't directed toward them. He takes her outstretched hand to pull himself off the ground and stumbles to the side before catching his balance. "He took her?"

"Yeah, and if that's not enough of a kick to the balls, Scott left with Deucalion, okay?" Stiles quickly fills him in breathlessly. His molars chew the inside of his cheek anxiously, and he begins striding down the corridor with the assumption the two will follow. They do. "So, we gotta get you and Fi out of here. The police are coming right now, and we gotta get you both the fuck out of here-"

"Why me too? Why can't I stay with you?" Ophelia questions in disappointment, a frown adorning her face as she looks at him.

"I've learnt you can't lie very well with your humanity, and you need to get home. Have a shower, eat."

She scoffs quietly as Derek tugs on her sleeve a little harsher. "Are you saying I smell?"

"No! I just meant have a little self-care- Ugh!" He face palms at her unimpressed expression. "Look, just go home and see your family. I can deal with the cops."

All of a sudden, Derek stops walking as he remembers why they had even been at the hospital in the first place. "What about Cora? Where is she?"

Stiles nods at Ophelia pointedly and ushers them down the hallway. "See? Even more reason for you to leave with him," he says with a raise of his eyebrows.

As the girl reluctantly leaves her friend alone to deal with the incoming hoard of law enforcement, she fills Derek of the more recent events as they make their way to where his car is still parked. To say that he is pissed about Jennifer up and leaving without healing his sister like promised might be the understatement of the century. She doesn't think she's ever seen someone so livid before. Actually... She might just dare say that he rivals Niklaus last year back in Mystic Falls.

It's still dark when they approach Isaac's borrowed car, however, the headlights from their vehicle allow them both to see who is waiting with the Lahey boy and Cora. Derek clears his throat uncomfortably and looks at Ophelia with a straight face as he turns the engine off. "Wasn't the last time you spoke-"

"Yep."

He nods and they get out the vehicle. Derek places a hand on her upper back while they walk. "Just breathe and try not to kill them," he utters to her. Despite how blunt his words are, it provides her some sort of comfort.

The last time Ophelia shared words with Chris Argent was in the basement of his old house, where he, his father, and Allison had brutally tortured her for days on end. It's safe to say she's not exactly thrilled by the prospect of engaging in a conversation with him, or his daughter.

"Where's Scott and Stiles?" Allison asks in worry.

"Stiles is still inside," Ophelia calls out dryly, announcing their arrival. She gives a smile to both Boyd and Isaac who instantly perk up at her voice. Within a flash, Allison's mood shifts into something that could only be described as hate. Chris pulls her aside and whispers something that is too quiet for an average person to hear, although Ophelia is too tired to even think of listening in. "He's gonna talk to the cops," she continues.

When the father and daughter return, the latter is looking a little less angry and a fraction calmer being in the presence of the girl who had killed her mother. Derek picks up his sister from inside the Argent's car and rushes her around to his own. "We have to go right now," he adds urgently to both his Beta wolves. They quickly hurry around to help assist him place Cora inside the vehicle.

Chris' eyebrows furrow as he looks between the two. Strangely, he is far less bothered about Ophelia being with them than he probably should be. "What about Scott and Melissa?"

Ophelia licks her lips nervously and sighs. "Yeah, um, she's gone."

"Jennifer took her," Derek clarifies.

Allison's eyes widen in horror. "What about Scott?" When neither Derek nor Ophelia answer, her tone of voice becomes a little more frantic. "Where's Scott?"

Ophelia pats the Hale's upper arm. "Yeah, I'm not doing this. Text me if you need me, and this doesn't count of needing me." After waving to her two friends that are staring at both her and Derek in shock, she turns on her heels and begins to walk away.

"How are you getting home?" Boyd yells out.

She glances over her shoulder and looks between the two options: Derek, who definitely doesn't have time to drive her to the other side of town based on how his sister currently looks, and... well, the Argents. "I'll walk. Need the air."

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When Ophelia said she was walking, she meant she was walking. Though, walking with four feet is considerably faster than with two. It also meant she got to divert into the Preserve and find the coyote whilst the sun began rising on the horizon. It had been too long for her liking since the last encounter with the animal, and based on the joy her friend is expressing seeing her, the coyote feels the same. Somehow, when she shifts into her other form, all her problems disappear. Which is odd because she's still herself. She still has those problems, she knows she has those problems, but she cares far less. In fact, she barely cares at all. They're a background thought, drumming along in a dull pattern.

Being with the coyote is a different sort of comfort than what her human relationships provide her. The creature has no knowledge of the issues Ophelia and her friends suffer with, so the dark cloud that is the overwhelming danger and stress usually looming above her head is gone. It's a fresh change, and it's exactly what she needs.

As she trots through the open back gate leading into her yard, Ophelia yelps when the coyote tumbles into the back of her a little too quickly, resulting into both of them crashing into the nearby pool that is undeniably far too cold for this time of morning. The racket of noise occurring outside lead Klaus and Freya to share a look of amusement, and they proceed to jump off their places on the sofa in order to investigate. Stepping outside, the Original's eyes immediately narrow at the creature he finds paddling to the step to get out of the water, and Freya's eyebrows furrow at his abrupt change of behaviour. "What is it?" Klaus purses his lips together and refuses to answer her question.

"Oh, he's a little salty about something that happened months ago. If you still think she's Mikael, I can assure you, she's not." Ophelia's voice causes the two to whip around, finding their sister dripping in chlorinated water and covered in a cotton towel that had been drying on the washing line. The scowl on her brother's face causes her to arch a brow, and she cracks a grin. "You don't still think she's Mikael, do you?"

Freya folds her arms over her chest, and she slowly turns to Klaus. "You what?" Her words come out amused, but her expression is sour.

He shifts his weight awkwardly. "No," he mutters. "Nice to see you safe and sound, sister," he adds in a deadpanned voice.

She rolls her eyes and glances between the pair who have distanced themselves from each other. "Firstly, I'll point out, my friend is a she. Secondly, Mikael seems to be a sore subject for you two-"

"Klaus killed him again a few months ago," Freya cuts in bluntly.

"Ah, and I'm assuming you liked the sociopathic bastard?" The eye roll the older woman gives is enough. "Right." Ophelia smiles as the coyote vigorously shakes her coat, and a brief shower of water flies onto the three. Niklaus scoffs and storms off, mumbling something about how he had just had a bath and didn't need another. She clears her throat as she and Freya watch the animal curl up in a ball in a recently created patch of sun to dry off. "So... anything?"

Freya sighs through her nose and the two link their arms as they walk through the double doors and enter the expansive open planned kitchen-slash-dining room. "There's something. I don't know how meaningful it'll be, but it's better than nothing," she says. "Go have a shower or get changed, and I'll explain."

Ophelia doesn't think she's ever gotten dressed so quickly in her entire life. She arrives back downstairs to the smell of bacon within roughly five minutes. Niklaus seems to be in a much more pleasant mood than before, sipping on a cup of steaming tea and scrolling through his phone. He looks up at her presence and pats the empty barstool next to him. "Care to share your nightly escapades?"

She heaves a sigh as she sits down, and gratefully takes the plate of pancakes from Freya. Shoving a fork into her mouth, Ophelia slowly nods whilst she tries to find the words to explain exactly what had happened. "Long story short, at the school we found out the Darach is our English teacher, Jennifer, who is also the girl- sorry, ex-girlfriend of Derek-"

"Other Alpha in town," Klaus points out for their eldest sister, smug that he's aware of something she isn't. "Whether he's actually an Alpha based on the stories I've heard... It's debatable."

"Anyways, Derek found out, got pissed, then she said she's the only one who could save his dying sister... So, we went to the hospital, which then got evacuated, leaving us, a pissed off Jennifer, and an even more pissed off pack of Alpha wolves who tried to kill her multiple times. Unsuccessfully. Moral of the story is Scott's mum, Melissa, was taken to be the second sacrifice. Oh! And Stiles figured out it's parents and guardians, not just guardians."

The older Mikaelson siblings share a look at the bombardment of information they have just received, then return their eyes back to Ophelia shovelling down the rest of her breakfast. "Wow, okay. That's a lot," Klaus mumbles to himself in surprise.

"I know! We need to find out who the last person is to be sacrificed, then prevent it from happening. 'Cause once Jenny gets them, we're basically fucked. Like, fucked, fucked."

Freya blows out a breath and takes a sip of her own piping hot tea. "I spent the entire night trying to get a location on the Sheriff. Nothing on the map, like, nothing. I even tried to break through the cloaking spell... She's damn good this woman." Ophelia visibly deflates. "But I did see something, though, it was very brief."

Klaus rolls his eyes at her theatrical reveal and waves a hand to dismiss her. "Oh, shut up, you saw a bloody tree. It means nothing."

Any hope Ophelia has left vanishes into thin air. "Just a tree? Did it look special? Did it have anything around it? Was anyone there?"

Freya shuts her eyes briefly. "It wasn't really a tree, more like just the stump of one, and it was big- definitely bigger than an average tree," she concludes, nodding to herself like she's making sure she's remembering the vision correctly.

"Great. We have the bottom of a tree that's bigger than the other trees around it, and still have no idea where the hell Noah and Melissa are." Ophelia tries to inhale a deep breath and bites firmly on the inside of her cheek to avoid another wave of tears forming. "They're both going to die," she whispers.

Her brother places a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "You don't know that for certain. Why don't you go and see Lydia? I'm sure she'll be a nice distraction."

As much as it pains her to say it, "I don't have time for distractions. We need to find out where Jennifer is keeping them!"

Freya's eyes fill with sympathy as she folds her arms across the marble bench top. "Honey, there's nothing more we can do. Unless you somehow have a documentation of every single tree in Beacon Hills, I'm going to say the vision is a dead-end. Go see your friends, go to school if you feel up to it, and I'll call Davina and see if she has any ideas on what to do. It might even be worth meeting with that vet, Deaton, I believe you said his name is?"

Ophelia throws her head back and sighs. She hates to admit it, but the witch is right. It wouldn't be good for her mental health to stay home all day, pacing around her room until some form of news came in. She needs to surround herself with people that aren't going to make herself feel overwhelmingly guilty, because she knows that's exactly what she'd be focusing on if she's to be in her own head for too long.

Lydia Martin is the perfect person to go to.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

By the time she arrives at the Martin residence, the sun has finally awoken and is shining brightly down upon Beacon Hills. She takes a deep breath as she closes the door to her Porsche and stares at the large house that looms in front of her. Sure, she's been here hundreds of times over the last few months, but today is a little different. Her best friend is inside with a little more trauma than she had woken up with yesterday morning, and Ophelia once again blames herself for it. Perhaps if she had insisted Lydia to stay in the auditorium instead of seeking after Aiden, Jennifer never would've gotten the chance to place a garrotte around her neck. Perhaps she would have never been put into the position to lose her life.

The breath she exhales is shaky and she wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans as she walks up the stone pathway. Stopping by the front entrance, she barely has to wait a few seconds before the wooden door is opened to reveal Natalie Martin softly smiling. "Ophelia, it's lovely to see you, sweetheart," she greets warmly. "Lydia's upstairs."

Ophelia swallows as she faces the woman, lingering behind instead of racing straight up like usual. "Um, is she-is she okay? I mean, I know she's not okay, but-"

"I think she's okay," Natalie replies quietly. Her eyes soften at how concerned the girl is for her daughter, and she feels at ease knowing Lydia that has a friend that would move heaven and Earth for her. "I know she'd love to see you. I'll be down here if you need anything."

She slightly smiles and nods. As soon as Natalie is out of eyesight and in the kitchen, Ophelia speeds upstairs and knocks on the bedroom door. "Come in," Lydia calls out. Upon setting her eyes on the blonde-haired girl instead of her mother like she had assumed would be entering, her eyes widen in surprise and she jumps off her bed.

"Hey, Lily, sorry for dropping by unannounced-" Ophelia grunts as she is hit with a solid body, and arms quickly snake around her waist. She smiles as she tightly hugs the girl, relishing in the fact that she's not still in a hospital. "Hey," she murmurs. Her eyes suddenly widen and she jumps away like she'd just touched boiling water. "Shit! Am I hurting you?"

"No, no, you're okay," Lydia reassures, grabbing her friend's hand and walking them over to the bed. She collapses on the mattress with a sigh. Ophelia shrugs and bellyflops beside her. The strawberry blonde giggles. "Is there something I should do or give to your brother as a thanks for looking after me last night?"

Ophelia's lips part open briefly in surprise. She doesn't think she will ever get over how thoughtful Lydia is. She's always thinking of the other person, even if she's in more danger herself. "Oh, fuck no. He doesn't need his ego boosted anymore..." She chuckles and clears her throat to try and remain serious. "No, it's okay. Trust me, he knows you're thankful. Plus, for some odd reason, I think he was doing it out of some form of decency... Or he just likes you."

Lydia smiles. "Really? Klaus likes me?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't take my word seriously, m'kay? His version of 'liking' someone, is tolerating them enough to not rip their bloody head off." She refrains herself from grinning when Lydia blanches at the imagery. "He'd never even think of doing that to you, don't worry, love. I know way too many witches that could put him through some serious hell as payback..."

The Martin's eyebrows raise in amusement at how her friend trails off into thought, and she can only guess that said thoughts are how she would bring immense pain to her older brother. Oh, the perks of being immortal. She sighs as she turns onto her side, being careful that she's not putting pressure onto the dark bruise that is the healing ligature wound on her neck. "So, what happened? I haven't really heard from anyone."

Ophelia's eyes linger on the bruise, however, she decides to leave the subject alone due to how the girl beside her hasn't been the one to bring it up. "Do you want the good news, bad news, or terrible news?"

"Give me them on scales of one to ten, like, one being the worst thing that could possibly happen, and ten being you just won the lottery..."

"Um, okay. Good news is around a three, maybe a four, so I wouldn't really call it good news. Bad news is, I wanna say a seven. And... terrible news is a nine, but in another perspective, it could be a ten."

"Holy shit!" Lydia exclaims. "What the hell happened?"

"All right... The terrible news is that Jennifer took Melissa." Ophelia nods as her best friend begins to process the news. She figures she'll just keep going and get it all over with. "Bad news is that Scott left with Deucalion."

"He left with Deucalion?"

"It's kind of complicated, but yeah." She sighs. "And the semi-maybe-good news is that Freya might have a clue to do with something about Jennifer." Lydia's eyebrows raise in confusion. "She was trying to do a bunch of location spells on Stilinski and only got a vision of a tree out of it all. None of us have any idea what it means, so it might be useless."

Lydia goes to open her mouth to respond something, only to be interrupted by her mother yelling from downstairs, "Lydia, there's a Stiles here to see you!"

The two girls share a look before jumping off the bed and racing down the stairs to greet their mutual friend. Pacing by the front door and wringing his hands is an incredibly anxious teenage boy whose eyebrows are pinched together with concern. His head snaps over to the side when he hears footsteps approaching him, and his eyes light up with relief at the sight of the strawberry blonde. "Lydia, thank God you're okay," he rushes out.

Ophelia rolls her eyes playfully. "Good to see you, Stiles. I'm fine thanks for asking." She receives a quiet chuckle from Lydia and an exasperated look from the other. Even though his scent of anxiety and worry has dramatically decreased since setting eyes on healing teenage girl, she refrains herself from gagging at how strong his chemo-signals are. "Bloody hell, what's wrong?"

Stiles glances in the direction Natalie had disappeared into and Lydia catches his drift. "C'mon," she says. As they walk up the stairs to go to her bedroom, Ophelia casts another look at the male beside her. He reeks of distress, and more than earlier. She deduces that something had happened between her and Derek leaving him at the hospital and now.

"What's wrong?" Ophelia perches on the arms of the chair Lydia is seated in, and both girls watch Stiles apprehensively as he takes a deep breath.

"I'm guessing Fi told you a bit," he assumes, directing his words to Lydia. She nods. "Okay, and Fi, I'm guessing since you didn't reply to my messages, you don't know what happened this morning."

"Excuse me? I didn't- Oh..." She looks up from her phone with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, it was on 'Do Not Disturb.'"

Huffing a knowing sigh, Stiles waves his hand. "Whatever. The FBI was there with the cops, more specifically Scott's asshole of a father." Upon receiving two looks of confusion, he shakes his head to dismiss them. "Another long story. Point is, he told me that something had been drawn on the doors to the elevators..."

"Huh? No, there wasn't- While we were on the roof," Ophelia concludes.

"Must've been. Guys, it says Argent. Jennifer wrote Argent."

Lydia swallows and begins to blindly play with the blonde's fingers; something to help keep her calm as the conversation progresses. "What does that mean? Is it, like, a warning or something?"

"Well, considering it was in super large, block letters... It feels like a warning to me," Stiles confirms grimly.

Ophelia tilts her head to the side. "But that doesn't fit Jennifer's whole evil villain profile. Why would she suddenly give us a heads up on who she's killing next, now? Why now?"

Stiles shrugs cluelessly. "No idea. Allison thinks it could be Morrell..."

"Wait, you've seen Allison?" Ophelia questions quickly.

"Yeah, I went to both her and her dad after I was released from the cops."

She hums. "Right, sorry, makes sense."

Lydia closes her eyes briefly to try and gather her thoughts around the nightmarish situation they've all found themselves in. "What can I do?" Her eyes flick between the two that share a look with one another. "I mean, I get that I'm some kind of, like, human Geiger-counter for death, but... I don't know how to turn it on and off yet." She smiles slightly as Ophelia takes her hand in hers again and squeezes it comfortingly. "All I know is that she tried to kill me because of..."

Stiles frowns as he leans forward in his chair. "Because of what? Hey, Lydia, what?"

"When she called me a banshee," she replies hastily.

Ophelia tilts her head back slightly and sighs. "When we were trying to find you, we heard you scream and Nik called you the same thing. I've got no clue about what a banshee is, aside from that they predict incoming death... I'll ask him and Freya about it when I go back home, maybe they'll know more."

Lydia gives her an appreciative smile before it slowly fades as memories from the previous night come flooding in. She appears to be struggling to hold tears back. "She was surprised by it," she adds, referring to Jennifer. "What if that's not why she tried to kill me?"

"So, why did she then?" Ophelia questions. "I'm assuming she wasn't just bored and felt like some violence..."

Clasping her hands together as she stands up from the chair, Lydia says, "That's what we need to find out."

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After telling both her friends that she would meet them at school later in the day, Ophelia departs from them and heads home. Half the drive is spent by calling Freya and informing her and Klaus of what she had just learnt about the Argent's family name being written in the hospital, and the other half is spent imagining the worst-case scenarios if they don't manage to save Noah, Melissa, and now possibly Christopher. In every single one of them, she ends up finding that a percentage of it would be her fault. By holding Freya back the night before, it resulted in Sheriff Stilinski disappearing, which then led to Melissa. Ophelia doesn't know if she could live with Scott and Stiles blaming her for their parents' deaths for the rest of the foreseeable future. Which, selfishly, means that she can't allow them to die. She just can't. It isn't an option.

As she closes her front door behind her, she picks up on the sound of a kettle boiling in her kitchen, alongside an unfamiliar song being hummed quietly by Freya. Even though she had known her older sister for less than a week, she feels just as close to her as she does with Rebecca. Freya makes her feel seen. And just like the rest of her siblings do, the woman makes her feel at home.

She kicks her shoes off and leaves them behind her, swaying her hands back and forth as she approaches her older sister. The shrill ring of her phone stops her. It's Klaus. Her eyebrows furrow and she takes a second to try and listen for his heartbeat inside her home. He must have gone out since she had hung up the phone ten minutes earlier. "Nik, hey, what's up? I just got home-"

"Lia, I don't have much time."

Ophelia's eyes narrow in confusion. "What? What are you talking about? Time for what?"

"J-Just let me talk," the man pleads. She can't recall a recent time in her life where she had heard him beg to her. The desperation that Klaus presents to her makes her realise extremely fast that something is very, very wrong. "I know you said the Argents name might've been a warning, but-but I think you were wrong." He takes a deep breath, and the sound of a door slamming shut startles her. She stays silent like he had asked. "I think it was a misdirection to make you all focus on Christopher."

"Klaus, what's going on? Where are you getting this from?"

The next six words make Ophelia's blood run as cold as glacial water.

"Because she's about to get me."

"What? Nik, wherever you are, you need to-"

"She's too strong. Far, far stronger than any witch we've ever gone up against. She makes Bonnie Bennet look like a bloody amateur. Listen to me, Ophelia, Jennifer is going to take me. She's going to take me to the others, and you and Freya need to figure out a way to find us. Ophelia, are you hearing me?"

She rapidly nods at his words, and she flinches away from the device when a moment of static replaces all other sound. She musters up the strength to provide him with a response. "Yeah, I got it. Nik, I'm gonna get you out of there, okay?"

He finally stops running and softly smiles at his sister's determination. "Oh, I know you will. By the way, you've always been my favourite sibling."

It sounds like a goodbye. That's what breaks her.

When the phone finally cuts off, a broken, strangled sob tears its way through her body. Ophelia's attempt to breathe in deeply results in something that stutters, and her chest tightly constricts as if someone has wrung her lungs out with a cotton towel. She stumbles backward and the phone that had been tightly clutched in her hand drops to the floor. She hadn't even realised she had been silently crying for the entire duration. Once that first tear broke free from the thunder cloud, the rest of the storm came flooding. The rage and grief filled within her body is overflowing like a cascading waterfall. All she wants to do is scream. She wants to scream until her throat is red and raw, and she has expelled all the debilitating emotions within her. It's all too much.

She feels two hands grab onto her arms and she recognises the blurry figure of Freya stressing in front of her. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Ophelia, you need to tell me what's wrong," the woman gently tells her.

She collapses onto the floor and Freya willingly falls down with her. The oldest pulls her into her arms and begins rubbing soothing circles on her clothed back. "It's not Argent like we thought. He's gone, Frey," Ophelia whispers hoarsely. "She took him."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion and she brushes a lock of hair out of her sister's eyes. She keeps her voice calm and level, even though on the inside she is freaking out. "Took who?"

"Nik. Nik's gonna be the final sacrifice."

Freya's body tenses, but her grip on the teenager doesn't falter. "She can't kill him, Ophelia," she states unwaveringly. "He's an Original. An Original hybrid. It's impossible."

For a short, sweet moment, Ophelia is lured into a false sense of security. Until it hits both women at the same time, like someone had just rammed into them at full speed with a truck. She tilts her head up to lock eyes with her sister. "The white oak," they chorus.

Without another thought, Freya detangles herself out of the girl's hold and darts down the hallway. "Please tell me you didn't bring it with you," Ophelia yells out after her desperately. She hears the woman nervously swallow and she thunders up the stairs after her in a flurry. "Freya!"

"Fuck!" When she reaches the guest bedroom Freya is staying in, she is met with the sight of the woman staring at an empty duffle bag by her feet. Freya solemnly looks over to the doorway, then back down to the floor. "It's gone," she reveals quietly. "I don't know how, but she's got it."

Ophelia sniffles and grimaces as she tastes the salty tang of her tears that have run down and into her lips. "When the fuck did she get into my house?"

"It doesn't matter." Freya's face falls as she remembers something that could be the clue to saving all three future sacrifices. "There's a spell I can do to try and locate the oak. If Jennifer somehow has a cloaking spell on that too, I don't know if it'll work..." She takes a deep breath as she glances at her distraught sister. "But it's worth a try."

The last time that Ophelia had been around this many candles had been back when she was still dating Bonnie. Actually, before Freya, she hadn't been in the presence of a witch since the Bennet girl. Watching the newly introduced Mikaelson chant beneath her breath makes her realise just how much she's missed magic. The process of a spell still manages to raise goosebumps on her arms. Magic really is magical. It's these kinds of moments that make her wonder if her life is real because these are the kind of moments that most humans only see within their dreamscapes.

A pile of salt has been poured onto the dining table, and within the middle is a strange symbol that Ophelia likes to classify under 'witchy jargon.' Surrounding the mineral are a variety of colourful gemstones, and she assumes that they actually have a purpose instead of just being there to make things look pretty. Her eyes stay glued to the flame of a candle next to her, watching the fire slowly make its way through the tower of wax.

After another minute of murmuring in a language that Ophelia can't even begin to understand, Freya finally opens her eyes and stares at the runic symbol drawn in the salt. "Nothing. There's nothing," she exclaims loudly. As time continues to pass, both of the females draw more frustrated, troubled, and panicked. Ophelia has long passed the stage of where her emotions cloud over any rational thought, so it's lucky that Freya still seems to remain the one in control. "That bitch has cloaked the stake."

Ophelia places her head in her hands and pulls her swollen bottom lip into her teeth. She needs to stop chewing at it. "Okay, so what do we do now?" Her heart thuds loudly in her chest and she's surprised she can hear anything else over it. "I'm running out of ideas, Frey," she mutters. A hand grabs onto hers.

"Don't give up on him, sweetheart. We're going to find them, okay?" Freya remains silent for a minute before voicing her idea. "I think it's about time we go visit that vet you've been talking about."

She nods in agreement and stands up to grab her phone. "Agreed. I'll let Lydia and Stiles know, I'm sure-" Ophelia freezes as she finally comes to the realisation that she must inform Stiles that the final chess piece has been moved. Jennifer now has the entire board, and she's got them all in checkmate. She's going to have to be the one to hear his heart shatter into a million pieces. "Yeah, I'm sure they'll both want to be there," she finishes, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. "You know what, I'm just going to go to school and tell them in person. Yeah, that's probably the best idea-"

"Ophelia?"

"Hm?"

"You need to believe." Freya grabs onto the girl's hand and moves it so it's placed over her racing heart. "Hold onto that hope no matter how big it is, because I know you've still got some, and don't let it go. I just got my brother, and I'm not going to let him go without a gorgeous fucking fight."

Ophelia weakly smiles at her and makes no move to brush her tears away that coat her cheeks in a sheen. "You're definitely a Mikaelson, that's for sure."

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When she first arrived in Beacon Hills, Ophelia had quickly decided that the high school would be her most hated place to visit. Somehow, she despised it even more than Mystic Falls, which is pretty impressive considering that her history teacher tried to murder her more than once. Obviously having her humanity off made a difference, but when the switch flipped back on, she would slowly grow to find the place a safe spot in town. Sure, she still loathes sitting through maths, because aside from Lydia (and most of the rest of her class), who the fuck understands algebraic equations? She's been restrained by Stiles and Scott multiple times to try and convince her not to burn her textbook. However, the lesser enjoyed subjects aside, Ophelia Stone doesn't hate high school in the same way she once did.

Now though, now, the place is about as far away from a haven as it could possibly be. As she weaves her way through a group of teenagers at their lockers, Ophelia tries to keep herself calm. Aside from her breakdown at home an hour ago, she's yet to cry once again. If one of her friends was to stop and stare at her for a solid moment, they might be able to distinguish that she looks oddly similar to her non-humanity self.

"Fi! Ofi, wait, hang on! Ophelia!"

She stops in the centre of the hallway and spins around at the loud voice. Her throat runs dry the second she locks eyes with Stiles, Lydia trailing along behind him. "Hi," she greets them both simply.

It doesn't take long for either to realise that something isn't right. Lydia takes a step forward with her brows creased in worry. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Ophelia shifts the bag on her shoulder. She doesn't know how to do this. She doesn't know what to say, or how to say it. She doesn't know what the right way is to break the news. Then she acknowledges that there is no right way to tell them. Her eyes flick between her two best friends, and she takes a deep breath as her gaze settles onto him. "We were wrong about the Argents. Chris isn't going to be taken."

Stiles' eyes narrow as the three walk to a more private section of the corridor. "Sorry, what? Fi, their name was literally painted on the elevator doors-"

"He won't be taken because my brother already has been."

Silence falls over them as two thirds of the group take in the weight of Ophelia's words. Lydia's eyes are wide with the fear she feels for her friends, and she considers going to hug the blonde tightly before being stopped by Stiles' voice. "She's got all three," he mutters. There's something that postpones him from completely losing it. "Hold on, you said before that your siblings can't die. Like, compared to you, they actually can't die."

"... Well, they can." She hears Stiles' heart skip a beat. "But there's only one way to kill them, and that one way is pretty hard to accomplish. So, normally when I say they can't die, it's 'cause it's almost fucking impossible."

As Stiles puffs out a breath of relief, Lydia on the other hand comes to the realisation that there's still something her friend isn't telling them. "And what are the odds Jennifer knows how to kill him with this one, rare way?"

Ophelia's silence speaks multitudes of volume.

"Oh, my God, she's got all three."

She nods and her eyes fall shut. She needs to stay in control. "I know, and we have to find a way to figure out where the hell they are." When she looks back at Stiles, something within her stirs as she registers his laboured breathing, the smell of sweat coating his palms and forehead, and his trembling hands.

"Yeah, there's still time," Lydia adds. Once she sets her eyes onto him, she quickly looks over to Ophelia in concern.

The hybrid feels a wave of protectiveness wash over her and she grabs onto one of his hands gently. "Hey, Stiles, look at me." His eyes meet hers. "We're gonna go somewhere quiet," she tells him firmly, yet softly at the same time. He gives her something that resembles a nod.

Leading Stiles next to her, she follows behind Lydia who carelessly pushes people aside to make room for her two friends, eventually stopping at the boy's locker room at the end of the corridor. Ophelia nods at her in approval when finding no heartbeats inside, and they all barge through the door.

Stiles breaks out of hergrip and stumbles forward as he pants heavily, his bag thudding onto the groundbehind him. Ophelia follows him as he crashes into one of the lockers, thenfalls to the ground with him. She doesn't hear Lydia beside her, so she assumesthe girl is giving them space by guarding the door. She sucks in a deep breathand wracks her brain of ways to help him with the panic attack.

"Ophelia, I need you to breathe for me."

"I c-can't!"

"Okay, um, crap, what do people do in things like this..."

"N-Nik, I can't breathe."

"I-I can't breathe," Stiles rushes out, his lips gasping for air.

"I know," she replies calmly. "Stiles, we're going to try something, 'kay?" She doesn't give him any time to overthink her words. "Can you name five different things you can see for me?"

"W-What?"

"Shit- okay, Lia, you gotta name a few things for me that you can see."

"H-huh?"

"Let's do five, yeah, five, that's a good number. Great number, actually. Can you name five things you can see right now?"

"You, m-me, birds, th-the trees..."

"There you go, you're doing so well."

"The clouds."

Ophelia nods and gestures a hand slowly around her. "I want you to tell me five different things that you can see."

He lifts his head and his eyes begin to dart around the locker room. "You, L-Lydia- I-I can't breathe," he reiterates more frantically. Stiles flinches slightly when one of her hands gently encloses over his shaking ones. He meets her encouraging smile and unconsciously takes in a deep breath. "The lockers, and my bag."

She gives his hand a small squeeze and feels a sliver of the concern for him lift when she focuses briefly on his breathing pattern that is slowly starting to return to normal. "There you go. Stiles, can you give me four things you can touch?"

"Y-yeah, um, your hand," he begins breathlessly. "The floor." His spare hand blindly reaches out around him until he comes into contact with something. "The bench, and the locker." When he finishes, his eyes widen as he realises that he's still alive and can successfully inhale oxygen.

"How're you feeling?" Ophelia quietly asks, shuffling backward slightly to give him some space.

"Better," he answers her with a weak smile. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

She clears her throat and brushes her hands against her jeans. "Experience, actually. I've dealt with my fair share of panic attacks. They suck."

"That's an understatement," Stiles mutters. They both chuckle.

"When you were distracted trying to list things for me, you didn't realise that you began to breathe normally again because you weren't overthinking about it."

His lips lift into a smile as he brushes away the tears that had dropped down his flushed cheeks. "Yeah, well, it was really smart."

Ophelia leans her back against the locker beside him as they sit side by side. "I'll do you one better and suggest maybe looking for a counsellor to see. The stuff we deal with isn't light, Stiles, and you're not weak if you need help to process it, even if you don't directly mention said stuff."

Another tear slips down his cheek. "Thanks, Fi," he whispers gratefully.

They look to the side at the sound of heels on the floor, and Lydia gives the pair small smiles as she looks between them. "You okay?"

"A little better, thanks." Stiles falls quiet and his eyebrows furrow in thought as he stares into the empty space in front of him.

"Stiles?"

"... Morrell."

"Huh? Who?"

"The counsellor! Emissary for Deucalion," he reminds exasperatedly.

"Oh..."

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"Care to share why we're going to see her?"

Stiles spares a glance beside him as the three rush the halls of the school to get to the guidance counsellor's office. "Because she might know why Jennifer thought Lydia was dangerous enough to try and kill her." Both girls make an 'Oh' sound in understanding.

The door to Morrell's office is swung open with determination, however, that determination dissipates in seconds as Ophelia freezes in the doorway upon finding someone already occupying the room. Stiles and Lydia come to a halt behind the girl and peer over both her shoulders. She raises a hand awkwardly. "Hello... Can you plea-"

"Are you here for Miss Morrell?" Stiles interrupts, pushing his best friend fully into the room so he and the strawberry blonde can join the conversation.

The girl seated in the armchair arches an eyebrow. "No, I thought this was gym class," she deadpans.

Ophelia grins at her. "Oh, I like you," she declares.

Lydia rolls her eyes impatiently. "Sweetheart, we're not in the mood for funny." The unknown teenager raises her eyebrows and the small smile on her lips disappears. "Do you know where she is?"

"If I did, I wouldn't be waiting here for twenty minutes!" She gestures a hand to the door, then to both Stiles and Lydia. "So, how about you two back out the door and wait your turn."

Ophelia narrows her eyes. "Sorry, are you blind? There's clearly three of us."

"Before you asked me that, I was kinda open to letting you stay."

Lydia places a hand on her best friend's shoulder as she deflates in disappointment. "We're not here for a session," she says.

"Well, I am, and I've got some serious issues to work on."

The Stone heaves a sigh and drops down into the vacant armchair. "Yeah, get in line."

"Hey, wait, wait," Stiles cuts in. "You're Danielle," he realises. "You're Heather's best friend."

At the mention of the girl that had been used as one of the first sacrifices, Danielle softly sighs. "I was Heather's best friend," she corrects glumly. "We've been working on that issue three times a week."

"Wow, this just got dark," Ophelia mutters to herself.

Lydia's eyebrows knit together as she thinks back to what Danielle had stated when they had entered the room. "Hold on, did you say Miss Morrell's twenty minutes late?"

Danielle shrugs a shoulder. "And I don't know why either. She's always on time."

Ophelia drums her nails on the arm of her chair as she watches Lydia purse her lips. "Watcha thinking, Lyds?"

"I was seeing her at the beginning of the semester," she tells them. "She was never late."

The hybrid hums. "I'm gonna take a shot in the dark here and say that we're not the only ones who are guessing she knows something," Ophelia suggests.

"She's not late, she's missing..."

Stiles slowly nods at Lydia's conclusion, and glances over to the door that is still wide open. "Then I want to know what she knows," he adds. He beelines over to the desk and yanks various drawers open to begin searching for something that could give them information on anything supernatural related.

Danielle leans forward in her chair in alarm. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to find her," he answers simply.

"Those files are private!" Danielle exclaims. Ophelia chuckles and slaps her hand over her mouth when the newly introduced girl scowls at her.

Lydia glances over to the two, then back at Stiles. "Yeah, she's kind of right..."

Without looking up, the Stilinski holds out a cream-coloured file to the banshee. "That one's yours," he states.

"Let me see that," she says, jumping forward to grab onto the documents. Ophelia changes her position in the chair to watch Lydia rifle through the different papers on the desk, Danielle doing the same, even though she had pointed out a minute earlier that they would be breaking therapist-patient confidentiality by reading aforementioned files.

"Hey, that's pretty," Ophelia compliments as she points to a half-hidden piece of paper within a notebook, a tree sketched onto it.

Her friend gives her a smile and continues skim reading through the papers. "Thanks, Fi."

When Stiles turns to the girls, he notices the same work of art. "Wait, Lydia, that's your drawing."

Ophelia squints her eyes at him. "Well, duh. It's not gonna be Morrell's."

Lydia nods as she briefly looks at the boy. "Yeah, I know. It's a tree," she adds, a little confused as to why he's pointing it out.

"Yeah, good too," Danielle praises with an impressed nod.

"Thank you!"

Stiles shakes his head at them and stands up from rummaging through the desk. "No, but that's the same one, though," he says.

Lydia sighs through her nose and looks up to him with a little irritation. "Same as what?"

"The same one I always see you drawing in class." His comment makes Ophelia tilt her head to the side. Now it's getting a little odd.

"It's a tree," Lydia dismisses. "I like drawing trees."

Stiles rephrases his earlier sentence. "No, but it's the exact same one." He joins her side and grabs another piece of paper to compare it to the drawing in the notebook. "Don't you see?" Ophelia's eyebrows shoot up in bewilderment and she stands up to get a closer look. "Give me your bag," he instructs, but he doesn't give Lydia any time to hand it over as he begins rummaging through the red leather satchel himself. Upon finding another notebook inside, Stiles flips through it quickly until he finds what he's looking for. The second book is placed down next to the first, and once she can see what is being compared, Ophelia's jaw drops. Lydia's three drawings aren't the same, they're identical. Down to the more detailed sketching on the trunks and the number of branches each owns. "There, see?"

The blonde shakes her head in confusion as she begins flipping the pages of one of the notebooks, revealing another tree on every second page. All of them are mirror images of one another, set aside from varying in size, type of drawing utensil, and colour. "What the fuck?" she murmurs.

Danielle stares at the books and she eventually nods in defeat, completely appalled at what she has stumbled into. "Okay, you can have my session," she says quickly. "You got bigger issues..."

"Nice to meet you," Ophelia calls back to her, sighing when she notices the girl is long gone. It's a good idea, to get out when you can during the early stages.

"What is this?" Lydia shakily asks, finally stopping flipping through pages.

Stiles' face falls as he stares at one of the trees and rotates the notebook, so they are looking at the drawing upside down. Now, the picture is portrayed to be the trunk of a tree, with the assumed branches being the mass of roots of the plant. Ophelia gasps in realisation as she connects the dots in her head. Perhaps Freya's vision isn't so insignificant after all. "Holy shit," she exclaims loudly. Her two friends look at her with anticipation. "Freya said she saw of a tree stump in her vision when she was trying to find your dad. This can't be a coincidence."

He nods his head in agreement. "It's not. I know where they are."

"Share?"

He waves a hand around the desk covered in a mess of various papers and documents and makes his point clear without any words. Quickly, the three teenagers rush around and return Morrell's office as to how it appeared when they first entered. They're running against a clock, but they don't know how much time they're up against. It's an impossible situation to be in, and one that only grows more drastic as the second-hand ticks away without a care in the world.

"It's the Nemeton," Stiles explains as he shuts the door behind them. "That's where she's keeping them." He isn't aware of the confusion Ophelia holds as she shares a look with Lydia. "It has to be-"

"Stilinski!"

Said mentioned boy looks over to where the voice had come from and immediately groans in frustration. "Agh..." He spins back around to his friends and ignores the incoming presence of the one person he doesn't want to be seeing today. "All right, look, go to Derek, okay? He and Peter, they've been there before, so they'll know where it is. Tell them it's the root cellar, all right? They'll know."

Before he departs, Ophelia's hand darts out and grabs onto his arm. She jerks her head in the direction of the man in the suit approaching them. "Who's this twat?"

"Scott's dickwad of a father," he replies with a roll of his eyes. He also doesn't bother to lower his voice, even though the adult is perfectly able to hear them.

"Good luck," Lydia says. Her eyes suddenly widen at the FBI badge displayed on the man's suit pocket and grabs onto Ophelia's shoulders to steer her away from any potential trouble.

"What-hey, Lyds!"

"You're a mass murderer, Fi, the worst thing you could possibly do right now is be in the same building as the fucking FBI."

"... No argument there."

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By the time Ophelia and her favourite recently discovered not so human friend arrive at the building that contains Derek's loft, they're greeted with a feminine figure waiting as she leans on the hood of her own sleek, more modern black Porsche. Jumping out her vehicle, Ophelia gives her older sister a small, partly forced smile and is pulled into a brief hug. "Thanks for coming, Frey."

The witch squeezes her upper arm and nods. "Of course." Her eyes flick back to the girl with fiery hair. "Who's this?"

When Lydia had found out that her best friend's sister would be joining them on their escapade to interrogate the Hales about the Nemeton, she spent the entire drive worrying about whether she would meet the woman's expectations; more specifically, if Freya would think she is good enough for Ophelia. "Hi, um, I'm Lydia," she greets awkwardly.

Freya smiles warmly at her and the three begin the ascent up the stairs. "Fi's told everyone wonderful things about you, Lydia. It's just a shame we have to meet under these circumstances."

She nods. "Yeah, I'm so sorry about your brother, by the way." She instantly regrets bringing it up as a sombre atmosphere dawns around them. "Shit, sorry..."

"Don't apologise," Ophelia scolds her lightly. "He's gone, and someone's gotta bring it up eventually." She sighs and begins to play with a loose string on her knitted long-sleeved top. "Frey, I don't know if you understood my message, but-"

"That you both and your friend found out that this one," the woman gestures to Lydia walking beside her, "has been drawing pictures of a tree, and that this tree isn't actually a tree, but the base of one like I saw in my vision, and that it's where Jennifer is keeping them?"

"... No, you got it," Ophelia mutters.

Freya places a hand on Lydia's back as the girl moves in front of her. "You know, I've met my fair share of banshees throughout the years. I'm more than happy to answer questions if you have any." The hybrid smiles to herself as her sister and friend converse about the topic as they journey to the final floor of the building. Right before Ophelia goes to yank open the door (the visit is too important to wait around and politely knock), someone on the other side does it for her.

A breath catches in a throat when Peter Hale casts his eyes around the three females standing before him. Lydia is frozen to her spot, her eyes wide and jaw clenched as she stares at him. "You," she states. Both Mikaelsons share a look, Freya's holding confusion and Ophelia's with amusement, although her narrowed eyes show that she's ready to jump in to defend her best friend over her werewolf ally at the drop of a hat.

"Me," Peter replies with a hint of guilt attached to his tone.

"You," Lydia repeats quietly.

He sighs and lowers his eyes to the floor. "Me..." He lifts his head up to look to the others, and his eyebrows raise as he sets his gaze on the unknown blonde. However, when he hears the low, warning growl produced by his favourite teenager, he clears his throat quickly and rips his eyes away from Freya. The witch holds a disturbed expression. "Derek, we have visitors!"

After making herself comfortable on the leather couch, introducing her sister and filling in both Derek and Peter of their recent discoveries, Ophelia drums her fingers on her jeans as she watches Lydia try to keep her cool whilst talking to the older Hale. Upon being told that Stiles had referred the two girls to them, both born werewolves had grimly revealed that they do not know the location of the Nemeton. To be perfectly honest, she's trying her best not to lose herself in her current anger and unfairly blow up at one of them.

Lydia appears to be in a similar state of mind. "You don't know where it is? What do you mean 'You don't know where it is?'"

Peter narrows his eyes. "We mean we don't know where it is," he reiterates.

Ophelia crosses her arms over her chest. She's also been trying her hardest to not look over at Cora in Derek's bed who is slowly having the life drained away from her. "Your words and Stiles' story are clashing right now, because according to him you've been there in person."

"We have," Peter answers with a huff. He looks over to Derek who hasn't piped up since the beginning of the conversation. "But after a couple memorable experiences, Talia, Derek's mother and my older sister, decided that she didn't ever want us going back. She knew how dangerous it was and took the memory of its location from us."

Ophelia's eyebrows furrow together as she senses a wave of grief rush through Derek, and her piercing stare eventually leads him to glance at her. He shakes his head subtly, and that's enough for her to leave it alone.

"But then, how are we supposed to find it?" Lydia questions in confusion.

Peter tilts his head to the side cluelessly and shrugs. Derek on the other hand, has an epiphany. "Hold on, aren't you a witch?"

Freya's eyes meet his and she slowly nods. "I am."

"So, don't you have some kind of spell that could help reverse the ritual my mother did?"

Ophelia's lips lift into a wide smile. "Wow, Der Bear, you do have a brain after all," she comments playfully. He lifts up his middle finger in reply.

All attention is placed onto the oldest Mikaelson who contemplates the question carefully. After a minute of uncomfortable and tense silence, Freya takes a deep breath and looks around the group watching her. "Look, theoretically, yes. There is one that can alter your memories." She grimaces at the change of dynamic between the two girls that suddenly have a sense of hope. "But, if I was to perform this spell on you, it wouldn't happen as quickly as we need it to- as they need us too. Your memories, the ones we need, would return to you gradually."

Lydia gnaws on her lip anxiously. "How gradually are we talking?"

"It entirely depends on the person I'm working with. It's probably also important to note that I haven't done the spell in years. So, really, it's a bit of a lucky draw."

Ophelia's foot begins to tap on the concrete floor, providing a cathartic metronomic sound. "Okay, so we need a better option then," she concludes. "We keep Freya as a backup plan."

Freya nods and gives her sister a solemn smile. "In other news, it's time we go visit this vet."

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Crowding around the metal table inside the examination room, the pack of teenagers are illuminated by a dim pendant light hung in the centre. Ophelia stands in between Boyd and Isaac as she listens to Stiles try to brainstorm different ideas on what their next step will be. "It has to be on a telluric current, or maybe even at the axis of two, or where they all intersect. I just know it's where Derek took Paige to die." Her attention briefly goes to the doorway as her sister and Deaton enter from conversing with one another. In any other day where she wasn't so concerned about her brother's life, she would be asking for a fully detailed explanation on who the fuck Paige is.

"My dad and Gerard were there, once," Allison adds. As she mentions her grandfather, her eyes flick over to Ophelia cautiously, who has as predicted tensed up as she imagines various graphic ways of how she'll kill him the next time she sees him. "But both of them said it was years ago and they can't remember where it was..."

Ophelia runs a hand down the side of her face in frustration and closes her eyes. For the past few hours, the only thing she's been able to think about is her conversation on the phone with Klaus. Around twenty minutes ago, she had come to the realisation that if that was to be the last time she would have spoken to him, she didn't tell him how much she loves him. She didn't say I love you, always and forever.

"If no one has any idea on where this place is, how the fuck do we find it?" Isaac queries incredulously.

The two adults positioned by the exit to the room share a look, both hesitant to voice their thoughts out loud. Ophelia's eyes narrow at the shift in her sister's behaviour. "Spit it out," she orders firmly. At this point in time, she's willing to do absolutely anything to get Niklaus back.

Deaton doesn't meet any of the teens watchful eyes as he speaks his words. "There might be a way. But it's dangerous."

Freya scoffs. "Are you kidding me? This is the very, very last resort."

"Frey, I think it's safe to say we've run out of options."

The woman nervously swallows at her sister's soft words and rests her head back against the wall. "Fuck," she whispers in defeat.

Taking her silence as confirmation to go ahead, Deaton looks between both Stiles and Ophelia. "We're gonna need Scott."

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To Ophelia Stone, being told that she has to die in order for this ritual to work is like someone asking Stiles Stilinski if he replaced the duct tape on his Jeep earlier that day. Hell, she must be dying multiple times every week as of lately. If this meant that they would be able to not only find her brother, but Noah and Melissa as well, she wouldn't dare hesitate. Sure, she wouldn't properly die like her two friends would be, but according to both Freya and Deaton, a temporary demise like a neck snapping is enough to fall under the classification of 'death.' Despite being reassured that it would work, Ophelia can't help but acknowledge the doubt within her. What if it doesn't? What if the ritual fails? What then? Do they risk Freya trying to perform the memory altercation spell, hoping that Jennifer won't complete her sacrifices before Peter and Derek remember the exact location of the Nemeton? Or do they risk it all on this idea to be placed in a tub filled with a concoction of ice, water, and herbs?

By the time the Jeep pulls to a stop in the Preserve with its headlights illuminating Scott before them, it's too late for Ophelia to change her mind. They're in it now. Scott approaches the three and raises his eyebrows. "How'd you guys find out?"

"Lydia," Stiles replies. He glances to the blonde beside him and remembers the other. "And Fi's sister had a vision..."

She shrugs once his brown eyes land on her. "Long story. You?"

"Morrell," Scott answers. "None of the other Alphas know where it is either."

"So, if this works, are you gonna tell them?"

Scott pauses as he thinks over Stiles' question. He sighs. "I can't stop Jennifer without them."

Ophelia raises a hand in the air and she takes a step forward, cutting through the awkward silence that lays between the two boys. "Um, hi, sorry, but we have a more pressing matter than worrying about how the demonic leader is going to kill dark-not-a-witch bitch."

Deaton nods in agreement. "Yes, let's focus on finding your parents and your brother."

Scott's eyes widen in shock as his head snaps to the girl. "I take it you didn't know," Ophelia assumes. She softly sighs and links her fingers together. "Yeah, Nik's been taken."

"Hold on, but I thought-"

"Jennifer has the one thing on this fucking planet that can kill him, and no, we haven't been able to track it."

Scott's jaw drops as he tries to process her words. Suddenly, it's all gotten a hell of a lot more real. "What's the plan?"

"Essentially, you, Ophelia, and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents," the veterinarian explains. The latter pair share a brief look, and Ophelia wishes she could take away the crippling worry he's feeling; even if it means she'd have to deal with it herself.

"We die for them?"

"But he can bring us back!" Stiles quickly adds in, glancing over to Deaton. Doubt overtakes his confidence. "You can- You can bring us back, right?"

"You remember the part where I said it was dangerous? If it goes right, the three of you will be dead for a few seconds, but there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous thing for more reasons than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton, a place that hasn't had power in a long time. This kind of power is like a magnet: it attracts the supernatural, the kind of things that a family like the Argents can fill a bestiary with. It will draw them here, like a beacon."

Stiles shrugs, not finding anything too concerning within the explanation. "Doesn't sound worse than anything we've already seen."

Loud laughter bursts into the small clearing the group have found themselves within, and Ophelia doesn't even bother to stop herself. As her giggles die off, she stares at her friend in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? You guys have seen a lizard, someone who likes to call herself a witch, and a bunch of dogs. Sorry, but you've seen nothing." It's times like this that remind her how new to the supernatural world both Scott and Stiles are. After all, Scott's only been a werewolf for less than ten months.

"She's right," Deaton confirms, his voice tinged with an amusement at Stiles' naivety. "You'd be surprised at what you've yet to see."

"Is that it?" Scott asks reluctantly.

"Scott," Ophelia starts as she crosses her arms. "It's a fucking bath filled with ice. What's the worst that could happen to us?"

"Actually, a few things." She groans. "It'll also have an effect on the three of you. You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it, every day for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of..." Deaton trails off as he struggles to find the right words to use. "... Darkness around your heart, and permanent, like a scar."

Ophelia pulls a face as she watches Scott pause in thought. "Oh, man, if you say what I think you're about to say, I will make sure you die permanently."

Scott purses his lips together, however, Stiles doesn't take her exasperation seriously as he's yet to catch on. Therefore, he eggs Scott on with hand gestures. "Like a tattoo," the werewolf mutters quietly.

"You bastard!"

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Even though Ophelia hadn't seen Scott for a day, her reunion with him hadn't been as awkward as she had assumed it might be. Much to Deaton's annoyance, her, Scott, and Stiles had resumed their daily bickering and bantering on the ride back to drop each respective person to their homes to collect personal items for the ritual. Of course, she understands why Scott left with Deucalion. She doesn't like it, but she's aware that he's also only doing what he believes is the right thing to do. For an hour, the dynamic between her and her friends would go back to normal, and they're all trying to ignore the heavy cloud of fear above them that refuses to disintegrate into the inky night sky.

Stiles chucks his empty plastic bag that was once filled with ice in the bin and dries his damp hands off on his shirt. The boy walks over to Scott who has just returned from his home, and the two let their eyes drift over to the hybrid tipping her own bag into one of the three large metal tubs filled with a concoction of mistletoe, water, and ice. "Okay, someone has to mention it," he speaks up quietly. He makes sure she isn't listening and is distracted by the others in the room before he continues. "Isn't it a little odd that Fi's not worried about this, like, at all?"

Scott's eyes squint as he glances back to their friend dipping her toes into the bath, then recoiling back with a girlish shriek when Isaac and Boyd tip handfuls of ice down the back of her shirt. The two boys double over in uncontrollable fits of laughter. "Yeah, now that you mention it..."

"My sister has experienced death far too many times for one person, let alone for someone to even begin to imagine." They turn around at the soothing voice that adds to their conversation. Freya softly smiles as she watches Ophelia angrily grab a handful of ice and then begin hauling it at the instigators of the incident who suddenly aren't finding the situation as funny as they were a few seconds earlier. "I think she's probably become numb to the idea of it by now. Snapping her neck is like a nap for her, but I think everyone forgets that she's not unconscious. She dies, just like a human, the only difference is that she wakes up right as rain a few minutes later. Not to mention that she would do anything for Klaus; our entire family would. She doesn't have any hesitation about this, so that probably answers your question."

The boys stay completely silent as they listen to the woman talk to them. They rarely hear anything personal about Ophelia, considering the girl is still pretty much a closed book even with them. Hearing that death is so normalised to her makes a lot of sense. It explains why she didn't even question the ritual when it was first mentioned, and it explains why she casually brings up how she accidentally murdered someone the day earlier in a conversation like someone had some juicy gossip to share.

The supernatural has glossed over death for Ophelia Stone in a way that has made her lose concept of what it actually is.

Stiles' forehead creases as he comes up with a scenario that he hadn't thought of earlier. "Let's say that this thing lasts longer than a few seconds, like, a few minutes instead... If we're talking about a typical broken neck, sometimes it takes her as little as sixty seconds or so to recover after. Will she just jump awake while Scott and I are still... dead... and ruin the thing?"

Freya purses her lips together. "If we're looking at this scientifically, if you were to stay dead for longer than ten minutes or so, the temperature of the water would be enough to kill you two." The boys share a nervous look. "From a supernatural point of view with magic involved, because this ritual is providing the Nemeton with power and energy, I'm assuming that it will in turn provide you with some to help you locate it. Think of it as a favour for a favour. You're giving it life, so it'll preserve yours."

"Damn," Scott says. Although her words are harsh and brutal, she's being honest, which is something that perhaps Alan Deaton isn't comfortable doing.

"What I mean is, theoretically, it will protect the both of you from slipping into death permanently. Going off that, what I'm hoping is that it will apply to Ophelia as well."

"You mean, the Nemeton will keep her dead even if she should be waking up ten times earlier than us?"

The witch gives Scott a small nod. "Hopefully."

Stiles rubs the back of his neck and blows out a deep breath. "The confidence you have right now is just mind blowing," he comments.

Freya smiles at his sarcasm. She rather likes Stiles Stilinski. "Just remember that this is not only just a first for me, but for Deaton as well. We're gambling here, really gambling, but we're doing it because the people we love are at risk. I think when you become aware that there's even a slight chance you might lose them, any rationality you have left flies out the door, am I right?"

They both look at one another, then back to the woman and slowly nod. "You're really wise," Stiles mumbles.

She chuckles. "I'd hope so, I'm over a thousand years old." She walks away before she can see their eyes widen to the size of golf balls.

"All right," Deaton calls out, gesturing to the three teenagers about to be sacrificed. "What did you bring?"

Stiles swallows and brushes a finger over the Sheriff's badge in his hand. "Um, I got my dad's badge. Jennifer kind of crushed, so I tried hammering it out a bit. Still doesn't look great..." He tries to return the comforting smile Ophelia sends his way.

"Well, it doesn't need to look good if it has meaning," the veterinarian tries to reassure gently. His eyes jump over to his employee. "Scott?"

The McCall's head lifts, and he opens his enclosed hand to reveal a watch in his palm. "My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked..."

"Live, laugh, love your mum," Ophelia says, receiving a few quite chuckles in reply. Her smile drops off her lips when all heads turn to her expectantly. "Oh, do I really have to share it with everyone?" She sighs when Deaton raises a brow. "Right, okay. Um, Klaus gave this to me a few years after he officially adopted me." She digs her hand into her pocket and takes out a silver necklace to hold up in the dim lighting. Her spare hand is grabbed onto by Freya. They both know the significance of the item.

On the front of the small pendant is a large M in a grand font, coloured in black with a dark emerald outline. For the people who know the Mikaelsons well enough, they would recognise it to be the family crest. If she was to flip the jewellery around, it would show the engraving of 'you are enough.' As she quickly brushes a lone tear off her cheek in embarrassment, she remembers the reason why she always keeps it in her pocket instead of on display around her neck.

Sensing that he might have pushed a little too far, Deaton tries to remove the spotlight off her. "Okay, the three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you under until you're essentially... well, dead. But it's not just someone to hold you under. It needs to be someone who can pull you back. Someone that has a strong connection to you, a kind of emotional tether." When the hybrid steps forward on her own, he holds a hand up for her to wait. "Ophelia, you still need someone with you."

Lydia looks over to her best friend and Ophelia gives her a small smile. "Love, I'm assuming you don't want to kill me."

The strawberry blonde grimaces at the reminder. "Right..."

Freya chuckles and squeezes her sister's hand reassuringly. "I'll do it, don't worry, Lydia."

"Great," Deaton concludes. "Lydia, you can go with Stiles."

Ophelia tries not to laugh as an awkward tension moves between each of the teenagers around her. Almost everyone knows that the boy has been in love with Lydia for God knows how long, and Stiles seems to take this a little more seriously than she does.

Allison, Isaac, and Boyd are left.

Now she giggles.

Scott looks between them and who he chooses goes against precisely what Ophelia had assumed he would do. With a little hesitation, the werewolf turns his head to look at Deaton questioningly. "Uh, would you... Would you mind?" The vet smiles at him and gestures to the baths. Each of the future sacrifices share a look of determination and take a step toward the tubs filled to the brim for them. They all miss the disappointed frown Allison makes when Scott doesn't even as much glance in her direction.

Ophelia takes a deep breath as she takes one final look at the pendant gripped tightly in her hand, and exhales slowly after a few seconds. "You are enough," she whispers to herself. "You can do this." Slowly and tentatively, each get into their baths, making various quiet protests at the temperature as their feet dip within the ice. Her shaking hands grip onto the edges, and she tries to keep her breathing steady as her body begins to adjust to the excruciatingly cold water.

"By the way," Stiles calls out, his teeth chattering in between each word. He turns his head to look at Scott who's in the bath beside him. "If I don't make it back and you do-"

"Shut up," Ophelia hisses to him. "We're all making it back. Don't say shit like that."

He screws his eyes shut tightly at her words. "Sorry. It's just- your dad's in town," he reveals to Scott. If the boy hasn't already frozen from the ice, he now has out of shock. "And Fi, the FBI know about all your murders."

She raises an eyebrow. "Do they know it's me?"

"No, but-"

"Then we can sit back and watch it unfold like a reality telly show."

With a collective nod, Deaton and Lydia place their hands on both Scott and Stiles' shoulders, ready to submerge them underneath the water. "You're so brave," Freya mutters to her sister as she leans down to her ear. "I love you so much."

Ophelia tilts her head up to give the woman a teary smile. It's odd how much she feels attached to her, even though they've only known one another for so little time. "Always and forever," she whispers back.

"One..."

Both boys take in deep breaths as they prepare themselves to be lowered beneath the liquid.

"Two."

Freya's hands are firmly placed on either side of Ophelia's neck.

"Three."

The bone breaks.

𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘓 𝘗𝘓𝘈𝘕𝘛𝘚 ^^^^

𝘏𝘪 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴!!

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘖𝘧𝘪'𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱. 𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘋, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘵.

𝘈𝘭𝘴𝘰, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 '𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘴' 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘙𝘙𝘙𝘙!!! 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰