𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨 𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐭 𝐊𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲

...🌺...

𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻, 𝑀𝑌𝑆𝑇𝐼𝐶 𝐹𝐴𝐿𝐿𝑆

𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭.

The birthmark throbbed again, a dull pulse beneath my skin, as if something inside me was trying to wake up. I rubbed it absently, my fingers tracing the familiar shape just below my collarbone. A cherry blossom. Or, at least, that's what my mom said.

It never used to ache like this. Not until recently.

I leaned against the windowsill, watching the morning mist curl around the edges of Hastings Manor's front lawn. It clung to the wrought-iron gate like ghostly fingers slithering across the stone driveway. The air had that early autumn chill, sharp and laced with damp earth. The kind of morning that made you want to curl back into bed and pretend the outside world didn't exist.

I wasn't that lucky.

"Selene?"

My mom's voice cut through the silence. I turned, catching sight of her in the doorway.

Celeste Hastings, regal as ever, arms crossed over the soft fabric of her sweater. Even in the dim light, the streaks of silver threading through her dark hair were visible, a reminder of how long she'd carried the weight of the coven on her shoulders.

She was worried. I could see it in the way her mouth pressed into a thin line, the way her gaze flickered to my hands—still absently rubbing at the birthmark.

"You're going to be late," she said.

I forced my fingers still and pushed off the windowsill. "I know."

"Caroline's outside."

I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Mom didn't move from the doorway, though. She stayed rooted there, eyes searching my face the way she always did when she thought I was hiding something.

I wasn't. Not really.

"Mija." Her voice softened. "You've been quiet lately."

I swallowed. "I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced.

Some days, it was easy to pretend she was really my mom. That I wasn't just some abandoned kid she found on her doorstep, wrapped in a green baby blanket, with my name stitched into the corner.

But today wasn't one of those days.

"It's your first year without Orianna," she said finally. "That's...an adjustment."

I nodded, pretending it didn't bother me. Orianna and I had grown up side by side, practically inseparable. And now? Now she was off at college, and I was here, stuck with the Hastings name but none of its blood.

And then there was the ascension.

Mom reached out, brushing my curls away from my face, tucking them neatly behind my ear like she had when I was little.

"It's only four months away."

As if I needed the reminder.

The Hastings ascension—where every witch in the family had their magic unstripped, leaving them raw, vulnerable, exposed. And then, they had to choose. Light or dark. Good or evil.

Even if I wasn't technically a Hastings by blood, the coven still claimed me. As Celeste's daughter, I was bound to the tradition whether I wanted it or not.

Mom exhaled through her nose, like she was holding something back. Instead, she simply reached for the front door, pulling it open. A crisp breeze slipped through, cutting through the warmth of the house.

"You know I only want the best for you," she murmured.

I met her gaze.

"I know."

She squeezed my hand. "Be on your guard."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I will."

She pulled me into a hug, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I love you, Mija."

Caroline honked from the driveway.

I forced a smile. "Love you too."

And then I stepped out into the morning cold.

...🌺...

Caroline tapped her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel as I slid into the passenger seat.

"A minute later, and we'd be late," she said, pulling away from the house.

I sighed, leaning my head against the window. "Sorry."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "You, my best friend, are the only person who isn't excited about the first day of school."

"Because we're juniors. Who cares?"

"I care," she said, flashing a grin. "We're one step closer to being seniors. Which means—"

"We're not at the bottom of the social ladder," I finished for her.

"Exactly."

I didn't answer. My eyes drifted back to the window, watching the trees blur past.

Caroline's voice softened. "Selene?"

I turned toward her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

She didn't believe me. Not really. But she let it go, steering us into the school parking lot.

Before she could say anything else, I grabbed my bag and opened the door.

"You're not alone, you know," she said.

A small smile tugged at my lips. "I know, Care."

She brightened. "Good. Now, are you coming to the fall party this weekend?"

I groaned. "Maybe."

"Come for me."

I sighed. "Fine."

Caroline beamed, squeezing my arm before vanishing into the crowd of students flooding toward the school doors.

I took my time following. The air was thick with the scent of damp leaves and something colder underneath. A storm was coming.

I could feel it.

I tugged my jacket tighter, stepping toward the school—

And tripped.

A startled gasp tore from my throat as I pitched forward, but before I hit the pavement, an arm wrapped around my waist.

Strong. Cold.

The world tilted. I looked up—

And met piercing blue eyes.

My breath caught in my throat.

The stranger's gaze locked onto mine, sharp and knowing. Like he had seen me before.

A sudden pain sliced through my skull. A flash of black feathers. Fog curling around my ankles. A whisper of a voice.

I blinked.

The stranger was gone.

The space where he had been felt wrong, like something had been ripped from reality.

"Selene?"

I turned sharply, heart hammering.

Bonnie stood there, brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"

I swallowed, scanning the courtyard.

No one.

Only the normal chaos of students pushing toward the school.

"Yeah." My voice came out hoarse. I cleared my throat. "I'm fine."

But as I stepped through the doors, my birthmark throbbed again—harder this time, pulsing with my racing heartbeat.

And no matter how much I tried to shake it off...

I couldn't.

...🌺...

The Mystic Grill was buzzing with the low hum of voices, the clatter of plates, and the occasional burst of laughter. The scent of charred burgers and greasy fries clung to the air, mixing with the faint bite of spilled beer and cheap perfume. It was comforting in a way—predictable.

I slid into a booth, across from me, Bonnie idly stirred her drink, her expression unreadable as she traced circles into the condensation on the glass.

Caroline had already veered off, caught in an animated conversation with some cheerleaders at the other end of the Grill. I didn't need to hear her words to know she was talking about him.

Stefan Salvatore, the new guy. 

"He's a Gemini," Caroline said just as she sat down. "And his favorite color is blue."

Bonnie had shot her a look. "You got all that in one day?"

"Oh, please." Caroline had flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, grinning. "I got all that between third and fourth period. We're planning a June wedding."

I had snorted at that.

She must really like this one.

I drummed my fingers against the table, ignoring the way my magic thrummed beneath my skin. Too restless. Too close to the surface.

I exhaled slowly, pushing it down. "How's your Grams?" I asked, glancing at Bonnie.

Her expression softened. "She's good. She was asking about you."

I arched a brow.

"She wants to know when you're coming over."

A small smile tugged at my lips. "Soon."

Sheila Bennett was the strongest witch I knew besides my mom. Stubborn, wise, and sharp as hell. She had that Bennett fire I admired, the kind of strength I needed now more than ever.

Before Bonnie could say anything else, Matt slid into the booth beside her, looking like someone had just run over his dog.

"How do you think Elena's doing?" Matt exhaled, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"Her parents died, Matt," Bonnie added, gentler this time. "It's only been four months."

"I know," he muttered.

Bonnie reached over, squeezing his hand. "She's putting on a good face, but..." she trailed off, letting the words settle between them.

Matt swallowed, gaze flickering toward the door. "Has she...said anything about me?"

Bonnie leaned back. "Oh no. Not getting in the middle of that. You pick up the phone and call her."

Matt frowned. "I feel weird calling her. She broke up with me."

I met his gaze, reading the quiet heartbreak in his expression.

"Give her some space," I said.

"More space, huh?" His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing at something behind me.

I turned—and immediately understood.

Elena had just walked in. With Stefan.

"Shit," I mumbled.

"Yeah," Bonnie sighed, already moving to stand. "Come on. We might have to do some damage control."

We barely made it three steps before Matt was already heading toward Elena, tension rippling off him.

I exchanged a glance with Bonnie before following, bracing for the worst.

...🌺...

Minutes later, I found myself seated at a table in the middle of the Grill.

Caroline was interrogating Stefan like she was preparing a full background check, while Elena sat beside him, clearly trying to keep up.

But that wasn't what had my attention.

Something felt off.

The same prickling sensation from earlier—a slow, creeping awareness—crawled over my skin. I rubbed my birthmark, pushing the feeling away.

"So you were born in Mystic Falls?" Caroline asked, stirring her drink.

Stefan nodded. "And moved when I was still young."

"Parents?"

I nudged Caroline under the table.

Tone it down.

"My parents passed away," Stefan answered smoothly, barely sparing Caroline a glance before his gaze drifted back to Elena.

Elena's face softened. "I'm sorry."

"Any siblings?"

Something flickered across Stefan's face—too quick to read.

"None that I talk to," he said, forcing a small smile. "I live with my uncle."

The way he said it...it didn't sit right with me.

Not what he said—but how he said it.

There was a calculation behind his words, like he was choosing them carefully. Too carefully.

And I was the only one who noticed.

"So, Stefan," Caroline chirped, oblivious, "if you're new, then you don't know about the party tomorrow."

He lifted a brow. "Party?"

"It's a thing we do at the Falls," I cut in. "Kind of a back-to-school tradition."

Stefan's eyes flicked toward Elena again. "Are you going?"

"Of course she is," Bonnie answered before Elena could even open her mouth.

The conversation moved on, but I wasn't listening anymore.

My magic hummed beneath my skin, slithering and restless.

I scanned the Grill, eyes flicking between familiar faces. Students, regulars, and then—

Ice crawled down my spine.

Across the room, in the farthest corner, someone sat alone. Watching.

Dark brown hair. Sharp jawline. Piercing blue eyes that seemed to see through me.

The moment our gazes locked, pain lanced through my skull, sudden and sharp. My breath hitched.

Flashes of something I couldn't place flickered behind my eyes.

I blinked—

And he was gone.

The chair in the corner sat empty, like no one had been there at all.

I pressed a hand against my temple, swallowing hard.

What the hell is going on?

...🌺...

Mr. Tanner's voice droned on, a relentless, nasal monotone that made my temples throb.

"The Battle of Willow Creek took place right at the end of the war in our very own Mystic Falls."

I let the words wash over me, gripping my pencil tighter, let the scratch of graphite against paper ground me. A cherry blossom tree took shape beneath my fingertips, its branches thin and curling, petals caught in the wind.

"How many casualties resulted from this battle?" Mr. Tanner's voice sharpened. He scanned the room, eyes gleaming like a predator searching for its next victim.

"Ms. Bennett?"

Bonnie barely looked up. "Um...a lot?" she deadpanned. "Like, a whole lot."

A smile tugged at my lips, but I kept my head down.

"Cute becomes dumb in an instant, Ms. Bennett," Mr. Tanner snapped. "Mr. Donovan? Would you like to take this opportunity to overcome your embedded jock stereotype?"

Matt slouched lower in his chair and gave a lazy shrug. "It's okay, Mr. Tanner. I'm cool with it."

Laughter rippled through the classroom. I rolled my eyes.

"Hmm." Mr. Tanner's gaze shifted. "Elena?"

Elena straightened, already tense. "I—I don't know," she admitted.

Something in her voice cracked.

Mr. Tanner didn't care.

"I was willing to be lenient last year for obvious reasons, Elena," he said, his tone sharper than before. "But the personal excuses ended with summer break."

A slow burn of irritation crawled up my spine.

And then, his eyes landed on me.

"Ms. Hastings?"

I sighed and lifted my head. "Isn't it your job to teach instead of making us look like idiots?"

Silence.

The entire class stilled, all eyes shifting between me and Mr. Tanner like they were watching an impending car crash.

Mr. Tanner's face twitched. "Excuse me?"

I leaned back in my chair, feigning interest. "I mean, that is why you became a teacher, right?" I tilted my head. "Or was it to relive your glory days?"

Bonnie nudged my knee under the desk—a silent don't.

A few muffled snickers echoed from the back of the room.

Mr. Tanner's nostrils flared. "Ms. Hastings—"

"Please, I'm genuinely curious." I gestured vaguely in his direction. "Or maybe your head's shoved so far up your—"

"There were 346 casualties."

The voice came from behind me.

Smooth. Confident. Unbothered.

I turned slightly and met Stefan Salvatore's gaze.

"Unless you're counting local civilians," he added.

Mr. Tanner blinked. "That's correct." A pause. His eyes flicked down at the attendance sheet. "Mr...?"

"Salvatore."

"Salvatore," Mr. Tanner repeated, rolling the name over his tongue. "Any relation to the original settlers of Mystic Falls?"

Stefan exhaled, like he was already tired of the conversation. "Distant."

"Well, very good," Mr. Tanner praised, clearly pleased someone had salvaged his lesson. "Except, of course, there were no civilian casualties in this battle."

Stefan's expression didn't shift. "Actually, there were twenty-seven, sir."

The air in the room shifted.

Mr. Tanner's jaw tightened.

"The Confederate soldiers fired on the church, believing it to be housing weapons," Stefan continued, his voice measured. "They were wrong. It was a night of great loss." A pause. "The Founder's archives are stored in City Hall if you'd like to brush up on your facts, Mr. Tanner."

The silence that followed was thick.

Bonnie bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

Mr. Tanner looked ready to combust, but before he could regain his footing, the bell rang.

I exhaled, shoving my sketchbook into my bag, already halfway to the door when—

"Hmm."

Mr. Tanner's voice stopped me.

I turned back, and there it was—held up between his fingers.

A detention slip.

"Principal's office. Now."

I stared at the paper, then at him, weighing my options. Setting his car on fire was technically off the table.

With a dramatic sigh, I snatched the slip from his hand.

I really hate him.

...🌺...

The wind cut through the clearing, weaving between bodies, lifting embers from the bonfire like fireflies in the night. Laughter clashed against bass-heavy music, a chaotic mix of drunken voices and cheap beer.

"Just admit it, Elena."

Bonnie's voice cut through the laughter that clashed against the bass heavy music that was fueled by cheap beer.

Elena sighed. "Okay, so he's a little pretty."

"A little?" Bonnie scoffed. "He has that romance novel stare."

I smirked, scanning the crowd. My gaze skimmed over the usual suspects—the football players near the keg, the couples sneaking off into the woods, the seniors dancing too close to the fire.

"Did he make it?" I asked absently.

"I don't know." Elena tilted her head toward Bonnie. "You tell me. You're the psychic one."

Bonnie held up her hands. "Right, I forgot. Give me a sec. Grams says I have to concentrate."

I rolled my eyes. "Sounds like Sheila."

Elena snorted. "Wait, you need a crystal ball." She grabbed an empty beer bottle off the ground and held it up. "Ta-da."

Bonnie groaned but played along, placing her palm over the glass.

Something in the air shifted.

It was subtle, but I felt it.

A ripple of energy, brushing against my skin like an unseen thread tightening in the atmosphere.

Then Bonnie's breath hitched.

I stiffened.

"Bon?" I reached for her, my fingers pressing into her shoulder.

Bonnie blinked back into focus, sucking in a sharp breath. "That was weird."

Elena straightened. "What happened?"

Bonnie turned to me.

"When I touched you, I saw a crow."

My stomach dropped.

"A crow?" Elena echoed, frowning.

Bonnie nodded, glancing over her shoulder like something might swoop down on us. "There was fog. And...a man."

Elena's face paled.

Bonnie shook her head, forcing a laugh. "I'm drunk. It's the drinking. Nothing psychic about it." She lifted her cup. "Yeah, I need a refill."

She left before I could stop her.

A chill crawled down my spine.

I turned my head—

And locked eyes with Stefan.

He was moving toward us, expression unreadable.

I swallowed. "I'm gonna check on her."

I didn't wait for Elena's reply.

Weaving through the crowd, I searched for Bonnie, but she had already disappeared into the sea of people.

Sighing, I moved away from the crowd and on the wooden bridge overlooking the stream.

Leaning against the railing, I exhaled.

For the first time all night, I could breathe.

"Shouldn't you be at the party?"

The voice sent a bolt of unease through me. I turned my head. He stood a few feet away, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"I don't talk to strangers," I said.

He smirked. "Good thing I'm not a stranger."

I fully faced him, heart knocking against my ribs.

His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through those piercing blue eyes.

A strange sense of familiarity pressed against my skull, like a memory trapped beneath ice—just out of reach.

I furrowed my brows. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

His smirk faltered for the briefest second, then it was gone.

"No, sunshine," he murmured. "You don't."

I didn't believe him.

Why don't I believe him?

He turned as if to leave, but before I could stop myself, my fingers wrapped around his wrist.

The second our skin touched—

Something snapped.

An electric jolt, sharp and deep, like a memory trying to claw its way out of the dark.

I gasped, pulling my hand back.

He went still.

His stare burned into me like a brand, like I had just shattered something between us.

"Sunshine," he breathed.

The way he said it—that word it was like déjà vu slammed into me, a tidal wave crashing over my ribs.

I swallowed hard. "Sorry."

His fingers ghosted over my cheek, barely a touch, and my breath hitched.

"Somebody help!"

The scream shattered the moment.

I spun toward the sound, my pulse spiking.

Below, near the bonfire—Jeremy, face pale, arms straining as he held Vicki up.

Blood.

It soaked her shirt, her neck—too much blood, pooling fast.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" Matt's voice, raw with panic.

Elena crouched beside them, pressing her hands against the wound. "It's her neck! Something bit her!" She looked up, frantic. "She's losing a lot of blood!"

A hand wrapped around my wrist.

Cold. Strong.

I stiffened as he leaned in, his breath ghosting against my ear.

"You were right," he murmured, voice like silk. "You shouldn't talk to strangers."

And then—he was gone.

...🌺...

The dim glow of my bedside lamp cast soft shadows against the deep green walls of my room. I sat cross-legged on my bed, phone pressed to my ear, running a brush absently through my tangled curls.

"Did you make it home safe?"

"That's why you're my best friend," Caroline giggled, her voice thick with exhaustion and whatever alcohol she'd downed at the party.

I rolled my eyes. "Drink water before you pass out, Care."

"I will," she promised, already failing at sounding convincing.

On the other end, I heard the rustling of sheets, the faint hum of her TV—some old rom-com, probably one she'd watched a hundred times before.

A beat of silence.

"So," Caroline drawled, voice dipping into curiosity. "Who was that guy on the bridge?"

My hand stilled mid-brush.

My gaze drifted to the sketchbook resting on my nightstand, its pages curled slightly at the edges. The unfinished lines of a raven-haired man stared back at me, his sharp jaw, the slight tilt of his lips, the shadow of something unreadable in his eyes.

Deep. Blue. Unsettlingly familiar.

"I don't know," I admitted.

Caroline made a noise. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"He didn't give me his name." I set the brush aside, rubbing the tension from my forehead.

"Ooh." Her voice stretched in intrigue. "A mystery man. Even better. First thing tomorrow, we're finding out who he is. Because if Elena gets one, then you should get one too."

The forced lightness in her tone didn't sit right.

"Care," I murmured, frowning. "What happened?"

Silence and it was only a few seconds before a deep inhale. "He rejected me."

My stomach tightened. I didn't need to ask who he was.

Caroline let out a laugh—sharp, brittle. " I always say the wrong thing. And...Elena always says the right thing. She doesn't even try!" She stopped, her breath hitching. "And he just picks her."

I closed my eyes.

"And she's always the one that everyone picks," she whispered, voice barely there. "For everything."

I set my sketchbook aside, leaning forward. "Care—"

"And I try," she continued, voice raw, "so hard and—" Another breath, shaky this time, like she was barely holding herself together. "I'm never the one."

The ache in my chest spread like a slow-burning ember.

"Care," I breathed. "Listen to me."

She didn't speak, but I knew she was listening.

"You will find the right guy for you. So Stefan isn't the prince in your fairytale? That's his loss, not yours."

"It just sucks," she admitted.

"I know, Care." My voice softened. "Do you need me to come over?"

"No," she whispered. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

I didn't believe her, but I didn't push.

"Love you," I murmured.

"Love you more," she breathed before hanging up.

The silence that followed felt too loud.

I let my phone slip from my hand and reached for my sketchbook instead.

My fingers traced the pencil strokes absently, down the firm lines of a jaw, the curve of high cheekbones, the sharp intensity of the eyes.

Deep blue.

I swallowed, my thumb brushing over the unfinished mouth, like touching the paper could summon a memory I didn't have.

Who are you?

...🌺...

𝐀/𝐍: THE REWRITE IS HERE!!!

NOW I KNOW I KNOW—literally I honestly wasn't going to rewrite this book until the summer, but I was rereading it to get inspiration for book two and...well, I decided to change the plot 🫣. So Selene is now adopted, and she knows she is because she was abandoned but doesn't know who her parents are. But she and her sister aren't the future Queen of Witches as in this rewrite their only one and she's dead. 

Anyway, I think you will like the way this new plot is and honestly I think this is how I was going to go with it anyway I just decided not to for some reason. But this book should be completed soon because I have been rewriting chapters for the past couple of weeks. 

Also, I have taken down book two just because I don't want anyone to get confused, also because I need to tweak those chapters to fit with this new plot. IT WILL BE UP SOON I PROMISE. 

I hope you guys enjoy the update!!!

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: How are we feeling about the rewrite? How are feeling about Selene and Damon's first meeting? What are you looking forward to in the rest of this book? 

-𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑎 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘