The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the night breeze through the curtains. Damon Salvatore lay motionless on the bed in Kol's room, his brow furrowed as if caught in a restless slumber. His breathing was shallow, his body still struggling against the lingering effects of the powder. But within his mind, memories long buried began to stir, weaving dreams that felt more like echoes from a forgotten past.
He was a boy again, no more than three years old, standing on a sun-drenched hillside in Castelmezzano, Italy. The rolling vineyards stretched out as far as his eyes could see, the golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. His small hands gripped the hem of his mother's dress as she knelt beside him, her gentle voice a soothing melody.
"Damon, more mio, Guarda il cielo," (Damon, my love, look at the sky) she whispered, pointing to the horizon where the sun dipped below the hills. Her dark glossy hair framed her face, her smile radiant as she watched her son gaze in awe at the vivid colours painting the sky.
He felt safe, cocooned in the warmth of her presence. But there was someone else there too, standing just behind them. Little Damon turned, his small hand reaching out, but the figure remained cloaked in shadows, their face obscured. There was an aura of power around the man, something that made Damon feel both drawn to and wary of him.
The man knelt, placing a hand on Damon's shoulder. His voice was deep, soothing, yet firm. "Hai una forza dentro di te, Damon. Un giorno capitai," (You have a strength within you, Damon. One day, you'll understand,)
The dream shifted, blurring around the edges as Damon's younger self tried to see the man's face, but it remained hidden, a mystery locked away in the depths of his mind.
Another scene flickered into focus. Damon was a bit older now, perhaps 5, running through the cobbled streets of a small Italian village. Laughter echoed around him as he played with the local children, the carefree joy of youth filling the air. His mother watched from a nearby bench, her eyes filled with love and pride.
Again, the man appeared, always just out of reach, his presence both comforting and enigmatic. Damon felt the man's gaze upon him, a silent guardian, watching over his every move. There was an unspoken bond between them, one that Damon couldn't quite understand but felt in the very core of his being.
"Papa?" he called out, but the man didn't respond, only watching, always watching.
The dream shifted once more. Damon was standing in a dimly lit room. His mother was there, her expression troubled as she whispered to the man. Damon strained to hear, catching fragments of their conversation.
"Ha bisogno di essere protetto" (He needs to be protected) his mother said, her voice filled with worry.
"Lui è più forte di quanto pensi" (He is stronger than you think) the man replied, his tone reassuring yet firm. "Ma ci sono cose che non deve mai sapere" (But there are things he must never know)
The words echoed in Damon's mind, a puzzle he couldn't solve. What was it he wasn't supposed to know? Who was this man who loomed so large in his early memories, yet remained a shadowy figure?
Damon stirred in his sleep, the dreams shifting into a montage of fleeting moments–a hand ruffling his hair, the scent of jasmine in the air, the sound of a deep, familiar voice whispering words of encouragement. Each fragment was like a piece of a puzzle, hinting at a past he had long forgotten or forced to forget.
As the dream began to fade, Damon felt a surge of something he hadn't felt in a long time–curiosity mixed with an inexplicable sense of longing. The face of the man, remained a mystery, but the feeling he invoked were clear. There was love, protection, and a hint of something more... something powerful, hidden just beneath the surface.
Damon's eyes fluttered open, the dreams lingering at the edge of his consciousness. He stared at the ceiling, the weight of the dreams pressing down on him, His body still ached, but his mind was now racing with questions.
Who was that man? What was the truth about his past? And why did it feel like the answers were just out of reach, locked away in the shadows of his mind?
As he lay there, piecing together the fragments of his dream, Damon felt the stirrings of something awakening within him–something ancient, something powerful. And he knew, deep down, that the journey to uncovering the truth about himself had only just begun.
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I lied, I'm a lier! It looks like I won't be waiting every Saturday to upload this as I just can't help myself. It's getting good now. I hope you like this double update I've done today. Let me know what you think I love feedback helps me improve x
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Their Raven
FanficDamon has spent a century as a vampire, believing that his immortal life began when he was turned but when long-buried memories resurface, he discovers a shocking truth before he became a vampire he was a witch, a powerful one. As a child, Damon wie...
