Marked by midnight

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Mark of Departure

The pale light of dawn seeped through the thin curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Damon Salvatore stirred from his deep sleep, the warmth of the previous night's encounter still lingering on his skin. As he awoke, he instinctively reached for the comfort of the sheets, but a strange sensation on his neck made him pause. He rubbed his eyes and tried to shake off the remnants of sleep, but the feeling remained persistent.

With a groan, Damon turned over and sat up, his gaze falling on the empty space beside him. The room was still, the only sounds the distant hum of the air conditioner and the faint chirping of birds outside. His looked in the mirror hanging on the wall, his eyes wandering to  the mark on his neck, one he hasn't seen before, and definitely didn't have the night  before. The sigil mark was intricate and unlike anything he had ever seen.

The mark was an elaborate design, combining arcane geometry and mythical motifs. At its center was a crescent moon cradling a series of interlocking circles, surrounded by knotwork patterns that wove together in endless spirals. The entire sigil was enclosed within a ring of sharp, angular lines that seemed to glow with a faint, otherworldly light. Damon traced the symbol with his fingers, feeling a strange, almost magnetic pull from it. His curiosity was piqued, but the mark also made him uneasy.

The mark's otherworldly glow and complex design suggested a deeper significance, but what? It was as though a part of a larger mystery had been etched into his skin. Damon's thoughts raced as he considered the possibilities. Could it be a supernatural symbol, or perhaps something more personal? The woman who had left it was enigmatic, her refusal to share her name only adding to the puzzle.

The persistent ringing of his phone broke him from his reverie. Damon glanced at the screen, seeing Stefan's name flashing. With a sigh, he ignored the call, not ready to face his brother just yet. He knew that Stefan would be worried, but he wasn't in the mood for explanations or confrontations. Instead, he pulled on his clothes and decided to return to the pub, hoping to find some answers or at least a distraction.

The pub was still quiet when Damon arrived, the late morning sun casting a warm, golden light through the windows. He walked in, the familiar creak of the door and the comforting hum of conversation greeting him. The same bartender from the night before was behind the counter, polishing glasses with a practiced hand.

Damon took a seat at the bar, feeling the weight of the previous night's events pressing on him. He signaled to the bartender for another glass of bourbon, his preferred choice for easing his troubled thoughts. As he waited, he glanced around the room, hoping to catch sight of the woman who had so profoundly affected him last night.

The bartender placed the glass in front of him, and Damon took a deep, appreciative sip. The warmth of the bourbon was soothing, but it did little to ease the confusion and intrigue swirling in his mind. He leaned forward, trying to appear casual, though his eyes betrayed his interest.

"Hey," Damon said to the bartender, trying to keep his tone casual. "Do you remember a woman who was here last night? Dark hair, striking green eyes. She was sitting at the far end of the bar."

The bartender's eyes narrowed slightly, and he tilted his head as if searching for the right words. After a moment, he shook his head slowly, a hint of mystery lingering in his expression. "Sorry, can't say I do. This place sees a lot of faces—some come and go like shadows. Sometimes it's hard to hold onto them."

The bartender offered a cryptic smile, his eyes glinting with something unspoken. "Sometimes, people like that leave without a trace. Or perhaps they never really left."