She has no idea why she was back in the attic of St. Anne's, where a vampire had quarantined her for so long. She supposed she felt safe up here all alone. It was here that she could mourn in peace.

It wasn't much of anything, really, but it was still nice to have that option open with all the depressing stuff going on in my life… even if it never would have amounted to anything at all, the darling young witch thought.

Kol Mikaelson is dead.

And not just "daggered" dead.

"Dead" dead.

Again.

He thought no one cared for him, not truly. Not even her. Sweet and innocent Davina Claire. Little D. My little witch… Kol is dead. Klaus is still out there. Even worse, there's a new power player in the French Quarter. Yet another Mikaelson sibling.

Freya. "She is dangerous," a witch told her in a dream.

A beautiful witch, who had convinced Davina to rejoin what remained of her coven.

"But what coven is there to return to," Davina wondered aloud. "The Harvest Girls are all dead, again, as are all the elders and most of the rabble."

"Then rebuild it," came a voice of auditory velvet from behind her. Davina whirled and looked right at her.

"That's right," the blonde said. "You know me."

"Freya…"

"Good morning, Davina. We have some things to discuss."

The door slammed behind her.