39. Into The Night.

They finally arrived at the large door, and the oldest wizard slowly turned the handle, creaking it open. As they stepped inside, a sense of tranquility washed over them. It was a meditation chamber, adorned with shimmering crystals that bathed the room in a soft glow. A single bed stood in one corner, inviting and peaceful. The air carried a soothing scent, and the atmosphere seemed to hum with serenity. Damon could feel himself being drawn into a state of calmness, as if there was a spell woven into the very air, ensuring relaxation.

The oldest wizard spoke, his voice filled with wisdom. "Here, you shall receive a potion that will grant you visions, a spiritual journey where you must make choices. Remember to stay true to yourself, for this is your personal test, and there are no right or wrong answers. It will feel real, so you try to keep in mind that it is only a hallucination. But you will fail. This will feel real. The crystals will record your journey, allowing us to observe, but without judgment. Only lessons to be learned."

Nodding in understanding, the wizard handed Damon a small bottle hidden within his robe. The liquid within sparkled like an inky black starry night, mesmerizing Damon with its swirling colors. He was a pretty powerful telepath, and he was not so sure that he would be so easily influenced. With a deep breath, he uncorked the bottle and quickly swallowed the cool, bitter liquid. Settling onto the soft bed, he closed his eyes, waiting for his journey to begin.

As the potion took effect, Damon felt the surrounding chamber fading away. The sights, sounds, and smells slowly dissolved into nothingness. In the void, he sensed the presence of Adam and Charles beside him. It was a room. Bright white room. A voice, so familiar yet distant, resonated in his mind. It was his father's voice, echoing through the ages.

"Choose, my son, only one. Choose," the voice whispered.

And without hesitation, Damon chose Adam. 

Then he found himself in yet another room, its walls adorned with intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles. The air was heavy with the scent of aged wood and faded perfume. As he stood there, he could hear the faint echoes of distant footsteps, as if the room held secrets of its own. 

This time, he faced a tough decision - a choice between two individuals. Charles stood tall, his piercing gaze filled with determination, while Mimosa exuded a delicate grace, her presence soothing and comforting. After careful consideration, he chose Mimosa, drawn to her gentle nature.

The next challenge arose, pitting Charles against Shadow. Charles exuded power and authority, while Shadow remained enigmatic and mysterious. Surprisingly, he chose Shadow, enticed by the allure of the unknown. He somehow chose women before men. 

But when the time came to choose between Charles and Mimi, he surprised himself by selecting Charles. Confusion filled his mind as he pondered the reasons behind his choices. Why did he gravitate towards certain individuals while neglecting others?

The pattern continued. Adam faced off against Mimosa, and once again, Mimosa was his chosen companion. The same held true for Shadow. But when it came to Mimi, he never chose her, and he couldn't understand why. He simply followed his instincts, guided by an intangible sense of what felt right.

He did not know what was it that made him choose. Was it just a gut feeling or some sense of these individuals? Did he want to protect innocents like Mimosa and Shadow, knowing that Mimi could handle herself? 

Amidst this perplexing journey, he couldn't help but wonder about the consequences of his choices. What impact would they have on his life, and the lives of those involved? Yet, he had no answers, only the weight of his decisions pressing upon him.

If Mariella were part of this equation, she would always be his first choice. Her presence brought him solace and clarity amidst the chaos. However, she seemed absent from this intricate web of choices, leaving him to navigate the labyrinth alone.

With each passing decision, he realized that he had subconsciously arranged his pack in order of importance. Mariella held the highest position, followed by Mimosa, then Shadow, Adam, Charles, and last, Mimi. The reasons behind this hierarchy eluded him, refusing to be unraveled by his mind.

The scene shifted once again, transporting him to a new setting, one tinged with nostalgia. Memories of his father's voice resurfaced, echoing in his ear. "My son, do you regret this choice?"

His father's words carried weight, stirring emotions within him. Regret was rare for him, but there were moments when he wished he had chosen differently. He was an ancient creature, who learned a long time ago his lessons. Regret did not lead anywhere. 

As time marched on, he had to accept the consequences of his actions and the pain and suffering he had inflicted upon others. Misery, death, and torture lingered in his wake, affecting even Mimi. He couldn't escape the burden of guilt, forced to confront the aftermath of his decisions.

He acknowledged that throughout his life; he had been a monster, terrorizing villages with his insatiable bloodlust. Women had been nothing more than playthings, their lives extinguished as easily as squashing a bug. Sex and blood had been his trademarks for a long time. Damien's presence had often fueled his darkest tendencies, but in this journey, it was his own choices that haunted him.

The scene shifted once more as the visions continued to unfold, revealing the horrors that his selfishness and lack of empathy had unleashed upon the world. He bore the weight of his actions, feeling the guilt seep into his very being.

His father and now also his mother's voice asked him, "Do you regret it?" and he had an answer always. Witness and ponder. Carry his burden and feel this guilt, too.

He knew he had to confront his past, acknowledge his flaws, and find a way to make amends. The journey was far from over, and he braced himself for what lay ahead, determined to find redemption amidst the chaos and darkness that surrounded him.

He could not say that this was an illusion. This felt so real, and he could smell his parents next to him. This mixture of pain and herbs. His parents had been the darkest wizard and witch of them all, and he could smell it.

Damon stood in a dimly lit room. The cold air sent shivers down his spine as his eyes landed on Mariella, tied up in a chair. Her disheveled hair and bruised face spoke of the pain she had endured. A gag silenced her cries for help. 

A familiar voice echoed through the room, belonging to his brother Damien. "Hello brother," he sneered. "It is time for you to choose. Look, I have pretty Mariella all trussed up, and on the table next to you, there's a gun."

Damon's gaze shifted to the left, revealing a large, futuristic-looking firearm. 

A rustling sound caught his attention, and his heart sank as he saw Damien standing behind Mariella. Despite their resemblance, he could see the evilness etched on Damien's face. Damien circled Mariella leisurely, his touch causing her to flinch. Damon longed to rush forward, to save her, to comfort her. 

As the room illuminated slightly, a pregnant woman came into view. Her belly was swollen, carrying Damon's unborn children. Damien mocked him, presenting a cruel choice.

"This is simple, my brother," he taunted. "In that gun, there's a magic bullet that will kill Mimi and those babies inside her. Shoot her, kill her, and Mariella goes free. Refuse, and I slit Mariella's throat." 

Damien retrieved a sharp dagger from his belt, pressing it against Mariella's delicate neck. A trickle of blood escaped, and Mariella whimpered in fear. Damon's hand trembled as he gripped the heavy, cold gun. He aimed it at Mimi's heart, feeling the weight of his decision. 

"Tick, tock, my hand is about to cramp..." Damien's words echoed in the room.

He was smiling cruelly. Mariella whimpered her plea for mercy, filling the room. Damon couldn't resist any longer. He squeezed the trigger; the gunshot shattering the silence. Mimi flinched, her eyes locking with his before she slumped to the ground. The room filled with an eerie silence as her once vibrant body turned to ash. 

Agony ripped through Damon's soul, losing their true soulmate bond and overwhelming him. A big part of his soul died there and then, leaving only burning pain in its wake. Damien approached the lifeless woman, callously kicking her. Her skin flaked away, leaving behind only ashes. Mariella remained silent, and Damon felt the weight of the gun in his hand. The pain in his heart threatened to consume him. 

Mimi's decaying body lay before him, and amidst the ashes, three lifeless babies lay curled up. Their once-pink skin turned to grey dust. They were almost ready to be born, and Damon had seen their faces, and felt their presence, only to end their lives. 

The scene changed again. They found themselves in a dimly lit room, the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows on the worn wooden furniture. Mariella, now an old woman, sat in an armchair, her white hair thin and delicate. Despite her age, she still exuded a timeless beauty. She was dying, her body succumbing to the weight of 98 years. It pained him to see her like this, for their time together had been cruelly short.

Sounds echoed down the hallway, growing louder with each passing moment. The door swung open, revealing their three sons and one daughter, accompanied by their own children. And there, in the midst of them all, was his great-grandson, the newest addition to their family. They had come when he had told them time was running out, their chance to say goodbye slipping away.

As the children surrounded Mariella's bed, she mustered the strength to engage with them, stroking their heads and speaking softly. Her tiredness was palpable, growing with each passing moment. Damon knew that once she was gone, he would be left with nothing. His legacy would live on through their children, but he felt hollow and empty. He had made a choice, one that haunted him, and he knew it was the wrong one.

Memories flooded his mind - their life together, the highs and lows they had shared. Yet, he couldn't recall the sound of her voice, the scent of strawberries that used to linger in the air when she was near, or the sound of her laughter. He had kept Mariella as his first, his only, throughout the years, shielding her from the imperfections of their life. He had never told her he regretted his choice.

Sitting by Mariella's side, he held her frail hand, finding solace in the touch. Their children were present, aware of his intentions. He had confided in them, revealing his plans to follow her wherever she may go, hoping to be reunited with her in the next life. He had no expectations of seeing his biggest regret, for he believed he had no right. The burden of his choice had weighed heavily on his soul, kept hidden from the world.

Their children remained oblivious to the truth, unaware of the one he had killed, foolishly choosing mortality over immortality. He had never told them anything about her; he had not spoken her name, and losing his memories about her pained him every single day.

Mariella was growing increasingly exhausted, drifting in and out of consciousness. She failed to notice that he was beside her, not every moment. Damon had yet to discover a way to make himself mortal, so he appeared as youthful as ever.

Mariella opened her eyes, her bright green gaze still vibrant but filled with weariness. Her breathing had become labored, and her complexion grew paler. The time for her departure was drawing near.

She moistened her parched lips, looked at him, and uttered, "I love you. I have always loved you. But do you regret it? If you had known I was only human, would your choice have been different?"

Damon remained silent, gently stroking her and whispering, "Darling, you are my number one, always and forever."

She sighed, and then silence enveloped the room. Mariella's breath ceased, and her faint heartbeat faded away. Damon felt his heart on the verge of bursting; pain tore at his soul. But it wasn't as agonizing as before, for his soul had grown rotten.

He whispered to her, knowing she could no longer hear, "I regret every single day of my life. I have regretted it, but it was my choice, my burden, not yours, never darling."

He retrieved the enchanted stake from the drawer. Its cool, hard surface felt unnerving in his grasp. He positioned the tip of the stake over his heart, gazing at the peacefully lifeless Mariella. With one resolute thrust, he drove the stake into his own heart.

In his last moments, he uttered, "I am so sorry, Mimi. So freaking sorry..."

He felt his life force fading, and fear gripped him for the first time. Where would his actions lead him? Was there a hell he deserved to go to?

Damon woke up, gasping for breath. He sat up, feeling the ghostly sensation of the stake in his heart. Initially disoriented, he realized he was in a chamber. The entire ordeal had been a test, a lesson about his choices. He could sense Mimi in his soul and mind, and relief washed over him.

It had all been an illusion, despite the vivid memories of decades spent with Mariella, their children being born and raised, and the knowledge of his actions leading to Mimi's death. Even his children were nothing but figments of his imagination. 

He knew that his choice of putting Mariella first would sometimes have too terrible consequences, so he would have to learn from this. But he would tell no one about this. He was certain that no one would ever know about his choice. He would keep this lesson in his mind, remember this always, and the right choice would have been to shoot Damien, not Mimi, but he could not function in that dream, or something.

He had truly learned his lesson, and he remembered how the pain of losing Mimi had been with him every single day, haunted him. The feeling of those children in his mind, that he had murdered.

The door of the chamber opened, and wizards stepped in. The oldest one of them looked at him and said, "Congratulations, young wizard. You have now proven yourself and passed your tests. You are Merlin's class, meaning the strongest of them all. Do not let that get in your head and keep your love as your power. As a mark of you being a wizard, you will carry a mark of a wizard. All of your pack's magical creatures will carry a mark."

He stepped closer and touched Damon's forehead and hair. In the mirror next to the wall, Damon saw a lock of his hair that had turned pure white. It was on the right side.

The wizard said, "Each of your pack's wizards and witches now has a white stripe in their hair, marking them as magical beings, tested and proven. Once again, congratulations. We will now return you and your companion back to where we took you from. Farewell."

Magical fog appeared again, whisking Damon with it, and soon he noticed he was in their yard. Mimi was standing a little further. Damon did not say anything but walked inside. He wanted to go see Mariella. It was over, and now he had a chance to be with her, to make sure she would get better.