I woke up to the smell of old wood and dust. Sunlight slipped through cracks in the thin curtains, illuminating the barebones cabin. The air was stale, like it hadn't been lived in for years. And yet, it was mine. My mother's handwriting on the will had said as much. A cabin on the outskirts of Mystic Falls was left to me, along with a few boxes of her old things.
Malcolm Selwyn. Mal. That's who I am now, but the name feels foreign. I'm not just Mal though. The memories of another life linger beneath the surface, fragmented and disjointed. I remember late nights studying, city lights, and a relatively mundane existence. But now, there's something else, something deeper. An awareness that hums beneath my skin.
Accepting this reality was unsettlingly easy. Maybe it was the weight of grief that dulled the edges. Dad died when I was little, and now Mom's gone too. There's no one left. Just this cabin and whatever secrets she had left behind.
The cabin was old but sturdy. It had one bedroom, a small kitchen, and a dusty living room cluttered with forgotten memories. The only modern thing was the refrigerator, which groaned in protest every time I opened it. I unpacked slowly, finding places for the bare essentials: clothes, a couple of framed photos, and some books.
Four of them. Leather-bound, worn from years of use. They didn't look special at first, but a spark ran through my fingertips when I touched the covers. Not pain, though more like recognition.
I ran my fingers over the ebony-embossed symbols. The words were in northern Haitian Creole. Being fluent in multiple dialects definitely helps"thank you past me".
I flipped through the worn pages, the faded ink barely legible in some spots.
Spells, incantations, things I barely understood but felt in my being to some extent. And then it hit me. The way the lights flickered when I got angry. How I always knew when someone was lying, even when they swore up and down they weren't. The strange, restless energy that had been building since I woke up in this town. It wasn't just grief messing with my head.
She was a witch.
And if the pounding in my chest and the way the air around me seemed to hum were anything to go by, so am I, and if not, I really need to go see a doctor..
The days passed in a blur, the cabin becoming both sanctuary and laboratory. The air inside grew thick with the scent of burnt herbs and the lingering hum of magic. I'd cleared a small space in the living room, pushing aside the old coffee table and dusty armchair. The floor was now scarred with chalk symbols, some crude and others painstakingly precise.
Magic wasn't just a concept anymore; it was a force that bent under the weight of my will. Every incantation buzzed beneath my skin, daring me to push further. And I did.
Day One
The birds came first. They weren't hard to lure. Crumbled pieces of bread and bits of old food were enough to coax a few sparrows and crows close to the cabin. The rats and rabbits followed, their small, twitching noses betraying their curiosity. I watched them from the shadows, heart pounding. There was no reason to hesitate. This was all for the sake of understanding.
Pain Infliction
Cruciari Dolor.
The words spilled from my lips, soft and deliberate. I extended my hand toward a black crow perched on a branch. Its feathers gleamed under the pale sunlight. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, it screeched. The sound was guttural, broken. The crow flailed, wings spasming as it toppled from its perch. It writhed in the dirt, a trembling mess of feathers and pain. I held the connection for a heartbeat longer, then severed it.
The relief was instant. The bird stilled, its breathing ragged. I crouched beside it, watching. Its eyes held no recognition, only fear.
"It worked," I murmured, trembling with the excitement of actually using magic.
I jotted down the details in my journal. Pain. Sudden, uncontrollable. There had been no resistance, no barrier. Animals had no natural defenses against magic. I couldn't ignore the gnawing thought that a human might fare differently.
But that thought could wait. There was more to learn.
Day Two
Next came Telekinesis.
Motus.
A simple word, but it carried weight. I focused on a small stone resting near the cabin door. At first, it barely shifted. The edges scraped against the dirt, trembling like a leaf caught in a breeze. I gritted my teeth, pouring more intent into the spell. The stone lifted, hovering in mid-air. My control wavered, and it crashed back to the ground with a dull thud.
"Progress," I muttered, scribbling notes. Crude, but it's progress.
The fox that wandered near the clearing wasn't so lucky.
Somnus.
One whispered word and it collapsed, eyes rolling back. Its breathing slowed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. There was no fear this time. Only silence. The spell worked beautifully. I walked to it, crouching down to inspect the animal. The fox's body was still warm, its heartbeat faint. I reached out, brushing my fingers along its fur.
Would it be the same for a human? Would they fight against the pull of unconsciousness?
I wrote down the question. But for now, it remained unanswered.
Memory Manipulation
Recidere Memoriae.
I tried it first on the fox. Its mind was fragile, simpler than I anticipated. The spell slipped in like smoke, curling around its thoughts. I plucked one away—a memory of it stalking through the woods—and replaced it. In its mind, I had always been there. A caretaker. A friend.
When it awoke, it approached without hesitation. No fear. No confusion. Just unwavering trust.
The rabbits were harder. Some accepted the implanted memories without resistance. Others reacted with fractured loyalty, confused by the contradiction. One stared at me with wide eyes, trembling before bolting into the trees.
I adjusted. I refined. Each test brought more understanding. Loyalty was easy to manipulate. Complex thoughts, however, were unstable. Animals weren't built for intricate memories. My journal filled with observations:
Subject: Fox. Memory Implant - Caretaker Role. Result: Acceptance.
Subject: Rabbit. Memory Implant - Dominant Figure. Result: Mild Resistance. Unstable.
Subject: Crow. Memory Implant - Familiar Bond. Result: Erratic Behavior. Terminated.
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To be fair their are some elements I wished I added within this chapter such as why he Isn't feeling the strain of using certain magic especially back to back but you will just have to wait till next chapter and p.s this an AU.
PowerStones!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!