The Originals: The Rise

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VIVIANNE LESCHERES WAS not afraid of the dark. The night felt like a warm cloak around her shoulders. The nearly full moon bathed the bayou in black and gray, hiding and shifting its truths, but Vivianne’s feet were sure and her heartbeat steady, even as a girl of ten. In the darkness, she was free.

Vivianne, born of both a witch and a werewolf, had both clans as her protectors, her family. No danger could come to her, even from New Orleans’s roughest residents. There had never been any part of the city where she feared to tread.

Yet on this night, as she got closer to the wide, lazy river, all she could smell was death. She slowed, scanning around her for what was amiss. The night couldn’t keep secrets from her eyes for long, and she watched as a ghost ship crept along the edge of the swamp. She set one boot down in front of the other, wading closer to the open water of the Saint Louis River.

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