The Vampire Diaries: After Story

Episode 184: Moonlit Vows

Damon wandered through the halls of their Asheville home, his steps silent against the wooden floors. Shadows stretched and danced across the walls, their shapes distorted and foreboding in the flickering light. Each step sent a cold shiver down his spine. 'Something is wrong,' he thought, his instincts screaming a warning as he moved through the eerily silent house, the air heavy with an unspoken dread.

Though the surroundings were familiar, everything appeared deceptively orderly. Darkness seemed to seep from the corners, as if the walls themselves were slowly closing in, suffocating the air. Panic tightened its grip on Damon as he combed through every corner and crevice, desperately searching for Elena, but she was nowhere to be found. The oppressive silence was broken only by the erratic pounding of his own heart, fueling the growing dread that something terrible had happened.

Upon pushing open their bedroom door, his heart plummeted into his stomach. The scene before him was grotesque and chilling. Elena lay writhing in agony on the bed, her belly gruesomely torn open. A vampire, its face a ghastly mask of bloodlust and savagery, feasted on what should have been their unborn child. Her desperate cries and the hideous sounds of feeding filled the room, paralyzing Damon with terror and disbelief.

Frozen with horror, Damon could neither move nor look away. The stark fear in Elena's eyes seared into him, a silent plea for help he couldn't provide. His beloved lay there, her once vibrant form now contorted in pain, her very essence fading before his eyes.

As Elena's labored breaths grew shallower, her gaze sought out Damon's, reflecting the terror and anguish that gripped his very soul. Then, in the space between heartbeats, her strength waning as the final vestiges of life slipped away. In that moment of agonizing clarity, Damon felt the world shift beneath his feet, irrevocably altered by the weight of loss and grief.

The assailant rose slowly, his lips stained with blood and flesh as he straightened up. His gaze bore into Damon with malevolence, a chilling intensity that seemed to pierce through the night. "You killed my wife," he growled, his voice a sinister rasp, tainted with echoes of pain and fury. "So I killed yours." Each word dripped like venom from his lips, laden with malice and a twisted sense of retribution.

With a feral snarl, he bared his fangs, their razor-sharp points glinting in the dim light of the room. The veins under his bloodshot eyes darkened with primal hunger, his intentions clear as he lunged forward, driven by an insatiable thirst for vengeance.

The nightmare jolted him awake, leaving Damon gasping for air and drenched in sweat, his pulse racing as though he'd run for miles. The haunting images lingered, tainting his perception as he squinted into the dim dawn light. Beside him, Elena stirred, her peaceful sleep a stark contrast to the turmoil of his dream.

He watched her for a long moment, the rise and fall of her breath offering a small comfort but doing little to ease the knot of anxiety in his stomach. Knowing that their enemies were both real and capable of reaching into his deepest fears, Damon felt an urgent need to shield her at any cost.

With a determined resolve, Damon slipped from the bed, careful not to disturb Elena. He needed to clear his head of the nightmare's lingering shadows. Stepping onto the balcony, the cool morning air brushed against his skin, failing to calm his frayed nerves. His sanity felt as though it teetered on the edge. Was becoming human a mistake? He felt powerless, weakened—a feeling amplified not just by his terrifying dreams but by his own vulnerable human state.