Chapter 7

The air seemed to pulse with raw energy, the tension between them a living, breathing thing. Every step Erik took forward, every movement Elara made, sent ripples of magic that seemed to distort the very air around them. The church, ancient and forgotten, had become the battleground for a conflict that could tear apart the very fabric of the world they knew.

Elara's smile was a challenge, a knowing smirk that seemed to mock him. She wasn't afraid. And why should she be? She had the power of centuries behind her, the strength of a being who had walked through the shadows of time and learned to wield the darkness as her own.

"I won't give up what's mine," Erik said, his voice steady but laced with a quiet fury. He could feel the magic building in his chest, ready to be unleashed, but he kept it restrained for now. There was no rush. This fight would be a delicate dance—one misstep, and the consequences could be catastrophic.

Astrid, standing by his side, was a constant presence. Her transformation had made her stronger, and Erik could feel the surge of power in her, too, though she was still learning to harness it. She wasn't just his partner in this battle—she was his equal. And together, they could stand against anything.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," Elara said, her voice dripping with condescension. "I've watched you for centuries, Erik Mikaelson. I've seen what you've become. But you are only a shadow of what you could be."

Erik's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of the sword on his back. He had learned long ago that sometimes, a blade was more than just a weapon—it was a statement. A reminder that he was not to be underestimated.

"You speak as though you know me," Erik replied, his voice a low growl. "But you don't. And you won't. Not after tonight."

With a sudden motion, Elara raised her hands, and the room seemed to darken. The shadows lengthened, twisting and coiling like serpents, reaching for Erik and Astrid with a malevolent hunger. It was dark magic, powerful and ancient—exactly the kind of power Erik had feared.

But he wasn't afraid. Not of her. Not of anything she could throw at him.

He raised his own hand, his fingers crackling with energy as he called upon the magic that surged through his veins. His warlock blood, the demon power that had made him what he was, hummed in response, and for a brief moment, he felt unstoppable. The air around him shimmered with his power, the earth beneath his feet shaking in response.

The first clash came as Elara's magic collided with his own. The force of it reverberated through the room, the very stones of the church groaning under the weight of their combined power. Erik's sword was out in an instant, the blade cutting through the darkness with a fierce swipe, but Elara was quick, deflecting his strike with a wave of her hand.

She moved with a grace that belied her age, her magic fluid and precise. But Erik had trained for centuries, mastering every form of combat, every discipline. His blade danced through the air, a blur of steel, and with each strike, he could feel the tension building, the battle escalating.

Astrid wasn't just watching; she was moving with him, her own power flaring in response to the magic swirling around them. Her werewolf blood, now unchained from its curse, had given her a strength that Erik had always known was there, though it had taken time for her to truly tap into it.

She moved like lightning, her fists crackling with energy as she struck at the shadows that Elara summoned. Her attacks were precise, calculated, but there was something wild in her movements, an animalistic fury that Erik found both impressive and dangerous.

Elara's eyes flicked between them, a momentary flash of frustration crossing her face. She hadn't anticipated this level of resistance. She had expected Erik, of course, but she hadn't counted on Astrid's strength, or the bond between them. And now, with every move they made, they were pushing her further back, forcing her to retreat deeper into the church.

"You're strong," Elara said, her voice laced with admiration, though her eyes were filled with malice. "But it won't be enough. Not against me."

"You're wrong," Erik replied, his voice filled with determination. "You underestimate us. And that will be your downfall."

With a roar, Elara unleashed a burst of magic, sending a shockwave through the church that knocked Erik and Astrid off their feet. The force of it was enough to crack the stone beneath them, and for a moment, Erik was disoriented, his vision swimming as he tried to regain his bearings.

Astrid was already up, her eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. She moved toward Elara, her steps steady, her body crackling with energy as she closed the distance between them.

"You're not getting away," Astrid snarled, her voice low and dangerous. Her eyes locked onto Elara's with a look of pure fury, and for the first time, Erik saw a side of her that he hadn't fully understood until now.

Elara sneered, her gaze flickering between Astrid and Erik. "You think you've won? You're nothing but pawns in a game that you don't understand."

"We understand more than you think," Erik said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "And we're not playing your game."

With a single motion, Erik summoned the full force of his power, unleashing a torrent of magic that engulfed the room. The air crackled with energy, the very ground beneath them shaking as the raw force of his magic collided with Elara's.

But Elara was ready. She raised her hands, summoning a shield of dark magic to protect herself. The force of their clash sent a shockwave through the church, the walls buckling under the strain. But Erik didn't relent. He poured everything he had into the attack, his body vibrating with the power of his warlock blood, his demon heritage, and the magic that had been bestowed upon him by God.

Astrid, too, was relentless. She moved with a ferocity that matched Erik's, her fists glowing with the power of her new form as she struck at Elara's shield, trying to break through.

For a long moment, it seemed as though the world itself had stopped. The battle raged on, each strike, each burst of magic, pushing them closer to the breaking point.

And then, with a final, desperate cry, Elara's shield shattered, the magic breaking apart like glass. Erik, drawing upon the last of his strength, surged forward, his sword slashing through the air with deadly precision.

The tip of the blade caught Elara's side, and for a brief moment, Erik thought she might actually fall. But with a flick of her wrist, she vanished into the shadows, retreating deeper into the church.

Erik stood, panting, his chest heaving with exhaustion. He had come so close, but Elara wasn't finished yet. She was a force to be reckoned with, and he knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

"We can't let her escape," Astrid said, her voice steady, though there was a fierceness in her eyes. "Not now."

Erik nodded, his expression hardening. "No. We finish this."

And with that, they followed her, ready to face whatever came nex