Chereads / TVD: Equilibrium / Chapter 13 - Chosen Path

Chapter 13 - Chosen Path

I'm back; my leave was not intentional along with the rewrites; I had a multitude of shots which I'm still recovering from, along my currently getting used to my new braces(day 4, two more days till solid food)

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I walked away from the confrontation, my mind already shifting gears. There was no use lingering in that mess. The deal with the Salvatores was done. Now, it was time to follow through on my plans.

I had a tattoo appointment. Yep, that's right a tattoo or tattoos. Not something I ever thought I'd go for, but there was a reason. The ink wasn't just a design; it wasn't just some way for me to express myself by marking my skin. It was generally for the better due to what I get out of it and the problems it solves. 

A celestial event was happening tonight, and it was the perfect opportunity. The stars were aligning, and I couldn't afford to miss it. The runes I was having etched into being would need a ton of magic, and, well, a full moon and an old witch's talisman would do the job. And yet I can't shake the nerves. It wasn't just a simple risk I was taking, like learning a new spell too quickly; no, I was putting into practice an entire experimental method of magic I cooked up in my brain by using other sources of media from my past and my knowledge of current known magic practices.

"It wasn't just about power; it was about securing my future. My strength, speed, endurance, and cognitive function were about to see a serious upgrade. I wasn't aiming for invincibility, but this would give me a critical edge for what was coming. It would make me sharper, faster, stronger—and most importantly, it would keep my mind intact."

The one thing I'd been avoiding—the deterioration I'd been feeling for months the runes was going to help with that. I didn't need Sheila or enlist anyone's help anymore. I wasn't relying on anyone. I'd figured it out. I was improving myself without outside interference, and that felt damn good. A little genius moment, if you ask me. The ink would halt the memory loss and keep me sharp. Everything else? It'd be better than ever.

Stefan's POV

I ran my hand through my hair, my mind racing as I paced in tight circles, trying to burn off the anger that threatened to boil over. Elena had retreated upstairs, too shaken to stick around after everything that had just gone down. I didn't blame her. But I couldn't just let it go—not when Damon was still stuck in this never-ending cycle. He'd pushed us to the edge again. He'd risked his life—and mine—all for what? Some petty vendetta? His usual reckless stunts that always seemed to have no purpose other than feeding his ego.

I couldn't let it slide, though. I couldn't.

"Must you ruin everything you touch, Damon?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, biting and sharp. "Every damn time you lose control, it's like you forget about everyone else. Is it so hard to think before you act? To be diplomatic for once?"

But he didn't answer, of course. Typical Damon. Silent, aloof, as though nothing bothered him. It was so predictable, it almost made me sick.

"You have no idea what you've done, do you?" My voice was low, and I could feel the weight of the responsibility pressing down on me, just like it always did when Damon acted like this. "What your actions have caused? You keep pushing and pushing, and one day, you're going to push too far. And I won't always be around to clean up your mess. You understand that, right? You really think you're invincible, but someone's going to take you down eventually, and I won't be there to protect you forever."

I watched him closely, my words hanging in the air, but I knew he wasn't hearing me. Not really. Maybe he'd hear the anger in my voice, but he wouldn't feel it the way I did.

Every time he pushed, every time he chose recklessness over reason, it just made me more responsible for him. The guilt gnawed at me, and as much as I wanted to walk away, I knew I couldn't.

"Every damn time, Damon," I muttered, frustration making my voice rise. "You're digging your own grave. And the rest of us are just stuck here, watching it happen."

Damon's POV

Stefan's voice was just noise, like the buzzing of an annoying fly I couldn't swat away. His lectures were endless, and this one was no different. Same words, same righteous fury, and just like always, none of it made a dent. The only thing it ever did was push me further away.

I let his words wash over me, focusing on the ache in my chest. It was easier than listening to him, easier than dealing with the weight of the shit that was about to hit the fan. There were bigger things at stake than Stefan's never-ending lectures. Things that mattered. Things that were going to change everything.

"God, Stefan, you really are a pain sometimes, you know that?" I cut in, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What, you want me to sit here, be a good little vampire, and take my beating? Say 'thank you' for all your concern?"

I saw his face twist with that familiar righteous fury of his. But honestly? I didn't care. It was all so predictable. He was still the same old Stefan—always thinking he could fix me, always trying to save me, like his guilt was somehow my problem. I was tired of it.

I couldn't help but feel frustration creep in. How many years had it been? I'd lost count. And Stefan? He was still stuck, acting like he could redeem me. Like I was some charity case that needed saving.

I exhaled slowly and turned my attention away from him. "What's done is done, Stefan. Newsflash: I didn't die. Not this time. And after you get him what he wants—whatever that is—I'll get the talisman. Katherine. Then I'm out. I'll leave this hellhole of a town, and you and Elena can live your boring little immortal life together. How's that sound?"

I didn't give him a chance to respond. I didn't even look at him. The words came out cold, dismissive, but I knew there was more buried under them. There was always more. Something he wouldn't understand.

Stefan's POV

I wasn't trying to make him angry. I wasn't trying to provoke him. I just needed out. The sooner, the better.

It wasn't the first time Damon had threatened to leave. Hell, it wasn't even the first time he'd said he was walking away from everything. Part of me—God, part of me—actually wanted to let him. Maybe things would finally calm down if he weren't around, if I didn't have to keep cleaning up his messes.

But I couldn't. I couldn't just walk away. Not from him. Not after everything. The guilt gnawed at me, even as I tried to shove it down. Damon was my brother. For better or worse, we were stuck in this together.

I couldn't ignore the truth that kept tugging at me. No matter how much Damon pretended, no matter how much he tried to deflect, he wasn't fine. He was broken. And running away again wasn't going to fix it.

I stared at him, jaw clenched tight. He was angry, that much was obvious. We both were. But there was something else—something deeper—beneath all that anger. It was that damn vulnerability, buried so far down he wouldn't let anyone see it. But I always could.

"You really think you can just walk away from everything, Damon?" My voice was low now, quiet, the weight of everything I wasn't saying hanging between us. "Just leave and pretend like it's that easy?"

I watched him, seeing that familiar smirk falter for just a second. I could've sworn I saw something in his eyes—a crack, a moment of doubt—but it was gone before I could even process it. Damon wasn't the type to show weakness. Not to anyone. Not even to me.

But I saw it. I always saw it.

"You can't just run from this, Damon. Not anymore," I added, the words slipping out before I could stop them

Damon's POV

Stefan's words landed like a gut punch. I didn't show it, of course. I never did. But I felt it. His voice was laced with that damn righteousness again, the one that always made him want to save me. Part of me, a small part, wanted to let him. Maybe for once, I could stop running. Maybe for once, I could just stop pretending everything was fine.

But I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

"Let it go, Stefan. What's done is done," I replied, trying to push all the messy thoughts away. "I'm still breathing, aren't I? So, let's get the talisman, get me what I need, and then I'm gone. You and Elena can have your boring life. No more drama. No more Damon. Just you two. Forever. How does that sound?"

I knew what was hanging over both of us—the question neither of us wanted to ask: How much longer could I keep pushing him away? How much longer could I pretend everything was fine when it wasn't?

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Power Stones!!!!!!!

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