This book is based and inspired by the Originals, with a tinge of the Vampire Diaries. I suggest that you watch the shows to understand some occurrences.
All rights go to The Originals television show on the CW, and Lisa Jane Smith (the author), except the characters and events that are purely of my imagination. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, OR ELSE YOU'LL BE REPORTED.
I JUST WANT TO SAY THAT IF ANYONE IS COPYING SECTIONS FROM THIS BOOK THAT ARE OF MY INVENTION, PLEASE TAKE ACTION.
(EDITED)
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The song of the chapter is: Sacrifice by Zella Day
I don't wanna be touched by the fear in your eyes,
I don't wanna be left for my demons to find,
When the leaves are gone and the beating's sung,
Brings the world bang drums.
Be a dose of protection through the blood and the tears,
If you losing yourself, then my body is here.
I will find you in a burning sky
Where the ashes rain in your mind.
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CHAPTER THIRTY ― SACRILEGIOUS SACRIFICE
THE WIND BITES AT my cheeks, and I bow my head forward, sucking in an airful of the cold. It felt good, like it was cleansing me of some impurity.
If only it were that easy.
"Let's go through here; I know a short cut." I tell Aaron. He nods his head and we stuff our hands in our coats as we duck down an alley.
For the past few minutes we had been completely silent. But it wasn't devoid of talk, awkward and stiff. It was more reverent, thoughtful. My head was buzzing from all the occurrences since this morning and I am fairly certain his was too.
With a light, floating feeling, I smile for the first time in weeks. I had a true friend.
And for the first time in hundreds of decades, he wasn't compelled to. He wasn't compelled to keep a secret, or obliged to do something for me. It was simple, pure friendship.
Hayley entered the stomas of my mind. She is my friend. I trust her. She knew me for me.
Or at least, I used to.
At least she thought she knew me.
I used to believe that she had my best interests at heart, but she would choose to be stuck in her boat of anger towards me, never accounting that for once, I was in need for a shoulder to lean on.
In my moment of need, she abandoned me, yet even through my silent pain, I pursued after the golden fruit that was our friendship.
But she never saw that. Maybe she was so enamoured by her flames of anger that she couldn't even care anymore.
But by now I know better than to chase after a fruitless dream.
Davina.
Emmanuel.
True happiness.
But I had Aaron, and he chose to open his demons to me by taking me to that room. People couldn't just do that. Having an emotional scar like that burns like you have poured salt on it, no matter how much time passes by.
They say that over the years you heal. However, truly, that is not the case. You never forget, just fill your pounding head with other problems until Death carries you away into icy, gelid torrents of nothingness.
By his actions, I now knew that I was capable of having someone care for me, without compulsion.
He cared, he cared, and I could feel the slow glimmers of what were the closest bits of happiness I could possible experience simmer to the surface. They were like the beginning of lava pushing out of the caverns they were entrapped in. I couldn't tell if I liked it or not. I suppose only time would tell.
The atmosphere changed rapidly.
"Something's off." I mutter under my breath.
"What?" Aaron asks. I shake my head, not expecting him to understand the growing sense of unease that was bubbling within me. Through my vampire powers, I sensed the presence of numerous people. However, there was something wrong. There was no noise, or movement, or heat. It was like they were dead.
Were they dead?
Were they solely human?
I frown deeply, turning my attention to the sides of the alley way, searching for a door, or a window, or any kind of entrance. I spot one eventually, green and faded, the paint flaking off its surface, landing lightly on the concrete steps before it. It seemed ordinary enough to a normal human, but to me, I could tell that something was hidden behind its dusty camouflage. Something dark.
"Melissa?" Aaron calls after me in confusion as I take up the three tiny steps before the door.
I twist the door handle, and the wooden veil swings open to reveal a house of horrors.
I gasp in disgust, raising the corner of my collar to my nose as the reeking stink hits my nasal orifices first. It doesn't smell of death, but instead of bodies that haven't been washed in weeks, left exposed to the moisture in the air, giving off a gnarled, sweat-entailed aroma. As a member of the supernatural, it hit me even worse, sending me reeling momentarily outside to take in a lungful of clean air, my lungs wheezing.
Then, my eyes streaming with tears at the stinging waves those things radiated like a fan, I see what exactly was the morbid horror that I was growing anxiously about.
Dozens of human bodies lay strewn across the floor, with their limbs spread out as though they were going to be drawn and quartered. What was worse, if possible, was the fact that they were arranged systematically and numerically, as though the sick bastard who did this had whipped out a gigantic protractor to draw and measure angles.
Maths would never be the same to me.
The bodies were encircled in a perfect, white three-hundred-and-sixty degrees circle, with branches adjoining to each limb. Forcing myself to walk forward, I walk deeper into the room and briefly study a few corpses. Odd, Viking-like symbols were carved into the middle of the foreheads and on either side of the the white chalk lines. Vaguely, distantly, I can hear fading heart beats beating in synchronisation. I let out a sigh. I do not know if it was a sigh of relief or macabre terror. Who knows what these people did to deserve such a punishment.
Or maybe, the bastard who was responsible for this a pure psychopath.
Immediately, my thoughts go to Nik. It was no secret that he would go to hell and back just to get his way. Perhaps this was his way of doing this, to punish the people who opposed him. No, I immediately shake my head in denial. Nik was a vampire, his style was bloodier, chaotic. It was evident from the markings that this was the work of a witch, an organised one with a dangerous motive.
A powerful witch.
Still, a small part of me wondered whether Nik had anything to with this. He was descended from a witch, Esther, anyhow. He had succeeded in joining the werewolf with a vampire, to form a dangerous hybrid. He had done the unthinkable, merged what was never merged before. Could he possible be interested in furthering his power source by opening the valve to witchcraft?
No, it can't be.
Shaking my head, I realise that I needed to report this to the Mikaelson's immediately; this was no mere accident. I swivel around, ready to zoom off, when I come face-to-face with a hyperventilating Aaron. Fucking hell.
His eyes are wide, and he is breathing heavily, a hand on his pounding chest. "W-what is this?" My mouth forms aerobics and I immediately place a terrified expression on my face, one that was not exceedingly hard to don. Internally, I writhe. Did he possibly think that this was my fault?
He thought that I was good, and I suddenly realise that it would tear me apart if his vision of me was shattered if he ever found out that I was a monster. A snide voice in my head speaks: He'll find out. They always do. It's unavoidable.
I push it to the side, unable to concentrate on so many things at the same time. "I-I don't know. I just ―" I stutter. "Oh my God, we need to call the police!" He rings out. I pause for a few moments, not following. Idly, I smile tight-lipped. It's been centuries since I was afraid of an authoritarian figure like the police. It suddenly hits me that he doesn't know that they're alive, a product of a witch's spell. I could only imagine the terror running through his brain. It brought back unpleasant memories of me finding out Nik's vampire secret, the way I ran.
The way I ran for centuries afterwards.
His shaky hands tremble to his front pocket, bringing out his iPhone. Automatically, I walk to him, and place a gelid hand on his warm one, gentle eyes seeking his frightened ones. "I'll do it," I purse my lips empathetically. "I'll call them." He nods once, before exiting the room. I cringe as I hear him dry-heave outside.
Thinking fast, I dial the police, but right before the call could be answered, I end it. This way, if Aaron ever checked his phone, he'd see the call in his history, not knowing that they never picked up.
I pause for a few moments, to make it sound like we were having a lengthy conversation, before I exit and shut the door behind me. "Did you call them?" He rasps, his voice hoarse.
"Yeah." I rub my arms, painting an anxious look on my features. "I need to go give them a statement." He nods once, and then twice, looking at the dirty, water-cracked ground. "I'll come with you."
I place a hand forward and push against his chest. "No." I say firmly. "Excuse me?" He asks, flabbergasted. "We just saw a murder scene like something out of a movie! It was like a freaking sacrifice! I have to report it!"
It was a freaking sacrifice.
"Listen," I adopt my most caring tone. "You're looking sick. You need rest. Let me deal with this." He looks at me in disbelief. "Why aren't you freaking out?"I sigh deeply, pinching either side of my nose. "Okay, I'll go report it and if they ask if there was anyone else in there with me, I'll give them your name, okay?" I promise. "Mel ―"
"Aaron." I snap. "Do you really want the reporters to fuck up your life, asking questions again and again about this ritual shit?" I raise an eyebrow, my nostrils flaring. I wasn't used to dealing with actual human terror often. "Because that's what they will do. Interfere with your daily life." I continue, "I come from a wealthy family; if I go to the police station alone, I can make sure they won't bother the both of us."
A tenuous silence ensues after my proposition, and I inhale, attempting to get the diseased stink out of my being. "Okay," he nods, running a hand through his hair, leaving it frazzled. "Fine."
"Great." I enunciate, looking at him expectantly. "I'll go now." He says and I nod. He walks off, but before he can get far, logic hits me. "Aaron, wait." I jug up to him, close face-to-face, completely ready to compel the memories out of him.
But then I find out that I can't.
I grimace. This was a weakness, a vulnerability. But I couldn't tarnish the one pure relationship that I had. I couldn't infect it with the mellifluous power of vampirism. I wouldn't let it affect this. I couldn't.
We share a tremulous look. "Good luck, sleep well." I mumble out, before running the other way, out of sight.
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I throw the door open, hastily walking up the stairs to Nik's study. "Klaus? Elijah? Rebekah?" I look around, a tight pinching sensation in my gut. Apparently, the Abattoir was devoid of any one, which was almost terrifying, seeing that the compound was always brimful of vampires.
Something monstrous took them away from their party.
Could it be connected to the sacrifice I saw before? I wonder idly. Could it honestly be so dangerous that it has required all the vampires to offer their fair share of strength?
I opened the door slightly and sigh in relief when I see the Mikaelson brothers huddled around a desk, apparently in a deep conversation. I knock lightly on the door, and Nik nods in my direction. I stride in and put my hands on my hips. "We have a problem."
Nik turns towards me, raising an eyebrow. "Do we?" I nod fervently. "I was on my way back to Rousseau's when I saw a sacrificial site. And it was definitely caused by a witch, because the bodies had . . . markings carved into their skin."
As soon as my words float out of my mouth, Nik grimaces , punching the edge of the desk mildly. "Bloody hell, he's moving faster than we anticipated."
"Wait." I say slowly, "you knew this was happening? You know who is doing this?" Elijah has the grace to look slightly guilty, so I turn to him, crossing my arms. "What is happening?" I demand firmly.
Elijah shares a look with his brother before he looks at me wholly. "A few decades ago, while we were still new to ruling New Orleans, we had sub-rulers beneath us."
I frown. "Rulers designated to each faction of the supernatural?"
"Yes." Elijah nods, pushing a chair to the table, "that is how it worked. Of course, we were, essentially, the . . . what's the word?"
"Supreme rulers?" I offer. Nik cracks a smile. "I like the sound of that. Perhaps, Elijah, we should make the vampires call us that." Cue the eye rolls. "Anyway," Elijah cuts in hastily, "the advocate for the witches was a man who went by the name of Papa Tunde."
Nik curls his lip in anger, his tone dark. "We never liked him; he was too grounded into our society, and he knew it, he relished in it. He knew he was a King."
I blink, knowing where this was going. Obviously, there couldn't be two Kings fighting for the same throne, so evidently Papa Tunde was aptly disposed of; he would not threaten their position any more.
"I suppose he was killed." I state dryly. "He was disposed of, yes." Nik agrees, "yet somehow he's slithered back into the land of the living, and this time his practise is even more malevolent."
"Practise?"
"Papa Tunde was an accomplished man. He dwelled into the darkest arts a witch could embed himself in, ones that no ordinary man would, ones which drew energy from the spillage of blood: sacrificial magic."
"The sacrifices I saw . . ." I mutter, mild horror coating my words. "That's what he was doing; he's trying to gain access to more power."
"Exactly, Melissa. And this time he is out for our blood, to avenge his murder. The sacrifice you saw wasn't his only site: he is drawing energy from all kinds of people everywhere, even along the docks. The more people he sacrifices, the more power he gets, until he is strong enough to go against us."
I flinch involuntarily at the mention of the docks, the penultimate place where Davina breathed. I can tell that it wasn't missed, but thankfully the brothers have the grace to not comment on it.
"But they were all humans. How much power can humans have?"
The brothers exchange a glance. "They weren't vampires?" I shuffle uneasily, voluntarily breaching the other most barriers of my memory. "No, they were definitely human," I reveal finally. "The situation is worse than I foresaw."
"What? Why?"
Nik regards me with completely serious eyes. And that is when I know that things in New Orleans will never die down. If someone has caused Nik to take them significantly as a worthy opponent, then we should all be scared. "Papa Tunde is drawing power from all supernatural factions. He's coming for us."
A chill races down my spine.
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I wrap my jacket tighter around myself, waiting for Elijah to finish his phone call. Nik had left a few minutes prior, to organise his vampire army against Papa Tunde. Elijah clicks his tongue impatiently and places his phone in his coat pocket, a mild expression of worry darting across his features. "What's wrong?" I ask, a crease developing between my eyebrows.
"Rebekah," he answers shortly, "she's not answering my call."
I shrug, trying to find a solution. "Maybe she's busy." Elijah nods grimly. "Yes. I'm concerned who she's busy with." I flicker my eyes to the ceiling, realising that he was looking anywhere but me. "Elijah. Can we get past this?"
"You tell me, Melissa. Because whenever I find myself remotely thinking about forgiveness you do something that causes me to analyse your motives even further."
"Excuse me?" I exclaim defensively.
"Hiding your true identity, violating my vow to Celeste . . . should I continue the list?"
"You know what?" I snap. "I've gone through so much shit because of your family. I've gone through so much shit because of Hayley. People have died. I've gone through some really dark places. Don't pretend like you're some fucking saint!"
Now it's Elijah's turn to appear shocked.
"What?"
"If you actually knew what happened between your brother and I a thousand years ago, your opinion of me would be quite different. You're curious, I don't blame you." I raise my hands, "but the fact that you keep me in your pedestal of hate merely because I am too emotionally strung out to tell you doesn't mean that it's okay.
"You know what? I'm sick of this. So fucking sick!" I grit my teeth. "On one hand, I have Hayley, who's pissed at me because I refuse to tell her all my secrets. Then there's you, who thinks he knows the whole story and judges me for it! But don't you get it?" I shriek. "Don't you understand that if I spill all my secrets, I will suffocate under their weight? Don't you understand that a door in my head will reopen, and I have to feel their emphasised effect on my soul?
I have taken so many beatings and batterings from the lot of you! Each one of you, telling me to do this, to do that, but never have I actually been thanked for helping you in anything! Never have I been appreciated for my loyalty! As it is, ever since Tyler Lockwood bit me I've been seeing Emmanuel in every step I take. It's tearing me apart Elijah, and if you bloody expect me to be selfless and self-destructive enough just to sate your curiosity, then you're fucking wrong."
I take in a deep breath, slamming my eyelids shut, attempting to control my trembling body. "So yes, we might not be the best of friends, but I'm all that there is. So suck it up, Elijah, because I'm not going anywhere."
I walk up to him, and place a shaking finger on his chest, looking at him through the haze of tears coating my eyes. "I heard Davina talking about your sins before you choked on their blood. And judging by the volume that spewed out of your mouth, you're as sinful as the rest of us. At least we don't pretend to be better than everyone else by hiding under your cloak of nobility and wiping the blood off our hands with a pristine white napkin."
I stride away from him, stopping when I realise that he's not following me. "So, Elijah. Are we going to search for your sister, or do I have to do it myself?"
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I sigh deeply, as I perch myself on the chair. My blood is still boiling after that confrontation with Elijah. I didn't feel particularly excellent about it but I didn't feel bad either. But truly, it was a conversation that was going to happen sooner or later.
I sip deeply from my glass of wine, trying to steel my nerves as much as I could before we went to get Rebekah back. The elder Mikaelson was having a conversation with one of Marcel's cronies, Thierry, behind us. I didn't bother switching on my hearing. Elijah would have to unstick his jaw from the ground and physically talk to me about it.
I eye them carefully at my peripheries, and eventually Elijah walks over to me, plucking my wine glass out of my hand and taking a sip from it. I raise a single eyebrow. "Did Hayley break up with you?" I smirk.
"What?" He exclaims. I shake my head, a small grin on my lips that I hide with another sip of the alcohol. "So what did Marcel's lap dog say?"
"Apparently Thierry and Rebekah were working together. He told her about some sacrifices he saw and took her there to show her."
"Oh God." I groan, knowing where this was heading. "The witch had set a trap and dessicated Rebekah with his touch." He finishes. "Okay." I down the entire glass-full with one gulp. "Where are the sacrifices?"
Elijah hesitates, his shoulders tensing. "What?" I breathe. "The sacrifice took place at the docks." I freeze, my hands rattling as I set the glass down, burning holes with my glare through the oak table.
"Melissa," he places a soothing hand on my arm. "You do not have to force yourself to come."
"No," I shake my head tenaciously. "I need to. She's family. I couldn't save Dav, maybe we can save Rebekah." Elijah regards me carefully, holding my look with his own. "Are you completely certain you want to involve yourself in a war that is not your own?"
I smile sadly, my eyes dim. "You should have asked me that months ago, Eli. It's too late now."
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Warehouse 57 held the same horrors I had the misfortune to see earlier this day. I could tell that Papa Tunde was very systematic ― once again, each circle was perfect, the sacrificial marks carved onto the vampire's skin equal distances apart.
The harsh fluorescent lights from above shone on the crevices on each vampire's face, giving credence to the battering each of these vampires took to be captured. Each one them were grey and caliginous with black veins creeping up their bodies with the forceful dessication they had to undergo.
I walk slowly through the room, searching for Rebekah's familiar face. I found that I could not speak loud; it felt like a cemetery.
Suddenly, disbelief sparks my heart.
A brunette adolescent is lying on the floor with her limbs spread to each each segment of the chalked circle. Her hair is spread like an ironic halo around her face, and even then, with her skin grey, I can tell who it is.
Davina.
Even in death, her eyelashes frame shadows on her face, and her lips are ever so slightly open, like she is going to draw breath at any moment. I discover that I am unable to move, my feet frozen on the spot. My fingers knot against my stomach, beginning to shake.
My brain races with questions, possibilities, hopes. Could it be that the Harvest sacrifice had worked? That her arising was delayed by Papa Tunde's? Could it be that she was still alive?
"Melissa. I've found my sister." Elijah calls out from the other side of the warehouse.
At the moment, I could care less. Davina was here, she was alive! My hands itch their way to my leather jacket's pocket, already mentally dialling Marcel's number to tell him that his daughter had miraculously returned from the dead. I could already imagine Marcel smiling.
Davina's eyes open.
A scream dies in my throat, when I realise that they were too bright, a much too luminous blue to be hers. Disappointment sinks within me; it wasn't her. But as soon as the thought is processed, the brunette's hair curls in on themselves, shrinking to her scalp to a boy's haircut, somehow metamorphosing to an extremely familiar blond colour. The eyelashes are thin wisps of the same blonde, the mouth is smaller, pinker, and the face is rounder. Younger.
Emmanuel.
Like someone has shot me, I jerk violently back, reaching a hand to a nearby pillar, heaving. My trachea feels as though tar has been poured through my mouth, hardening to form an unbreakable blockage. I screw my eyes shut, attempting valiantly to halt the oncoming barrage of hot tears. Not again!
"Melissa, are you alright?" Elijah, much to my unawareness, has walked up to me. He places a hand on my own, possibly to help me up, however I spin around as though I have been burnt and desperately stare at the ground, refusing to meet his brown, questioning ones. "Where's your sister?" My voice wobbles dangerously.
"Melissa ―"
"Elijah, where the fuck is your sister?"
The Mikaelson brother points vaguely in one direction and I stomp towards it, stopping at the sight of the light blonde, nausea crawling up my throat.
Was I going crazy?
Was this the sacrifice I needed to pay because of my love for these people? Were the ashes of my smouldering mind already falling from their carefully woven curtain?
Automatically, I reach for my phone and dial Sophie Devereaux's number. "Hello?"
"Sophie, we found Rebekah. I suppose that you know what's been happening in New Orleans ever since that hooligan has been running around sacrificing people."
After a while, she groans. "I'm done with magic, Melissa. I told Klaus the same." I narrow my eyes in anger, even though she cannot see. So Sophie gets to give up even though she's not suffered half of what I have? Not under my watch.
"You may have given up magic, but magic hasn't given you up, Sophie." I say simply enough, but she knows me enough to know when I have an undercurrent of malice streaking through my words. "So you can choose to lead it, or I'll make you. I suggest the former."
"You're such a bitch. I thought you of all people would understand how I feel, or was that a lie?" She snaps. Coldly, I do not even blink. "Funny, I thought you'd understand where I'm coming from. After all, your sister told you to lead before she was slaughtered. I'm doing that. I'm leading."
A long tentative silence ensues, but I remain stonily firm. "Fine." She agrees. "What do you need me to do?"
"Papa Tunde has some kind of boundary spell around the bodies. He is channelling her. Typically, it's a lethal process, but because she's an Original, she can't die. Instead, she's an endless source of power." Elijah speaks as I lower my phone between us so that we can both speak to Sophie at the same time.
"We need to get her out, but we don't know how." Sophie asks us to describe the way he has placed Rebekah and the rest and we explain the positioning as well as we can. "It's a convoluted spell." She answers us finally. "It's like a witch's recipe. You can spoil the balance by adding a more potent ingredient. A mystical binding agent. I don't know, volcanic ash, rock salt . . . anything up to and including eye of newt."
"What about the blood of a witch?" Elijah suddenly asks. Sophie's confused voice floats out of the speakers. "Do you have the blood of a witch?" Elijah regards me thoughtfully. "What?" I take a step back. "I'm not a witch!"
"Is it possible that Melissa contains magic through her blood due to the presence of her mask?" Elijah asks. I blink fast, unable to believe how fast I was getting screwed over. Sophie pauses, and I can imagine the surprise on her face. "You know about the real her?"
"Yes, yes, yes." I confirm impatiently. "He knows."
"Damn. I'm surprised you're still standing." Elijah sends me a look, one which I return with a hard glare. "Regardless," he pursues his answer, "is it possible?"
"Judging by the years she's had that mask on, and by the strength it takes to keep it on, then yes. It might not be the strongest binding agent out there, but if it's the strongest you have at the moment, then go ahead."
"Thank you, Ms. Devereaux." Elijah commends before pressing the red sign on my phone. He raises an eyebrow, and I back off. "No, I won't. I haven't given my blood in centuries for witches to use. What if I get screwed over for this?"
"Melissa. We need your blood to release Rebekah."
"Yes, I understand that! You've been prattling on about it for the past hour." I snap harshly.
"Melissa, we have no time to waste! Papa Tunde gets more powerful by the minute; we need as much man power to fight him off for as long as possible, and my sister can help."
"I know that, Elijah." I nod, tears crinkling at the corners of my eye under the immense pressure I was being put in at the moment. "But can't you get someone else's? Yours, perhaps! Your mother was a witch."
"Regardless of my parentage, I'm still a vampire; I'm still dead. I don't have a spell that's on me twenty-four-seven. You do."
I grimace, my stomach churning. Elijah said his statement fairly enough, but I still could hear the faint accusation behind it. Still, after all that I vented off to him. This was not fair! How much more sacrificing did I need to do until people stopped asking to help? "Elijah, you can't ask me to do this!" I scream while gritting my teeth, my eyes burning. "I have to! Melissa, there's no time to find an alternative . . . please."
I stop in my tracks, and stare at him.
"Please. I need your help."
He takes a step towards me, his brown eyes wide and honest. "Did you honestly mean what you said to Sophie? Because in that case, think of Davina. Do this for her."
I hesitate.
"I remember what you said about Emmanuel in the cabin. That you feel immense guilt for his death. You wondered whether he would forgive you for your sins. Maybe, by helping us, you're balancing the scales between your good and bad."
I sniff deeply, my eyes brimming with burning tears. I knew he was manipulating me, morphing my senses to fit his situation . . . and I knew he was right. "Damn you, Elijah." I growl tempestuously, glaring egregiously as I pushed up my sleeve.
I bite into my wrist, my metallic blood coating my fangs. I push my arm out to the circle and allow the crimson liquid to splatter on the edges of the white chalk.
Elijah carefully places a foot next to the circle and gingerly pushes against the invisible barrier. Like I expected, it went through. Quickly exchanging a satisfied look with me, he steps inside the circle and picks his sister up, before vamp-rushing us to a place far, far away.
But before I walk away, I stare back at the body whom I hallucinated was my brother and Davina.
There was nobody there.
No body.
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I love you all so much <3 Wrote a long ass chapter just for you and to commemorate my return to writing after a hectic year. I can promise steady updates. Hopefully this book will finish by this summer :)
I also made a new cover . . . what do you think? It's my favourite, and in my opinion it looks like a film poster haha :)
Please don't forget to vote, comment and/or share.
inkblots
PS: let's make a deal. I don't mind posting a chapter every single week (maybe with double updates if we're lucky) because I'm writing every single afternoon now that I'm a free elf. If we manage to get each new chapter's views up to 1K or more, 50 or more proper reviews/comments and 100 votes or more (for each chapter), I honestly do not mind. Your choice though :) Love you guys, tell me what you think. X x