Forsaken Right

I don't sleep much these days. Not for lack of trying; I need a break after researching, after all.

The memories have been coming in flux, stronger, sharper, and more invasive. They are definitely not glimpses anymore. The timelines feel like they're pulling me in.

And I don't know if I should fight it or let it happen.

So, instead of sleeping, not that I can, I decide to experiment.

It's past midnight. The streets of Mystic Falls are empty, and I've made my way to the outskirts, where the trees grow thick and the roads are cracked from time and neglect. No cars. No people. Just me and the quiet.

I take a slow breath, steadying myself. The cool night air ran across my skin, but I barely felt it.

Then, I did it for the first time, and I finally let go.

The second I do, the world around me shifts. The air becomes heavier, charged, as if something unseen is pressing down on everything. The town looks the same, but the atmosphere feels off. A certain stillness that didn't feel natural.

Then I saw him.

Or rather me.

He leans against a crumbling brick wall in the distance, arms crossed, watching me. His clothes are darker, his expression unreadable, but what unsettles me the most are his eyes

They look… empty.

I hesitate before walking toward him. I don't know why, but I feel like I should be careful.

I stop a few feet away.

"You look like you've been through hell," I say, half-joking and being dead serious.

He exhales a quiet chuckle. "And you look like you're still figuring out which way is up."

His voice is mine, but not. It's ours.

I frown. "Are you real?"

He tilts his head slightly. "Define real."

I let out a slow breath. "You're avoiding the question."

He studies me, and for a moment, he doesn't speak. Then—

"You think you understand what you are," he says. "But you don't."

Something in his tone makes me pause. Not mocking. Not arrogant. Just… certain.

I shift my stance. "Then help me understand."

He considers me as if debating whether I'm worth the effort. Then, finally, he pushes off the wall and steps closer.

"Speed," he says. "Moving faster than the world around you?"

I nod slowly.

He smiles, but there's no warmth in it. "That's the surface. You're not just moving through time, Cyrus. You're experiencing it differently. Feel it stretch and bend. You don't just exist in the present."

I swallow. "Then what does that mean?"

His gaze sharpens. "It means you're not using your abilities right."

The air shifts, and suddenly, they are there.

Other versions of me. Dozens.

Some stood. Others hunched over, their faces lined with exhaustion or pain. A few drenched in blood Their own. Or others'. Each of them is carrying something—grief, rage, or regret.

What the fuck is this some intervention "What the hell…?"

He gestures toward them. "You're not the only version of yourself to suffer."

I look around, my pulse quickening. Some of them stare directly at me. Others won't meet my eyes.

I forced myself to breathe evenly. "So what are you saying? No matter what I do, I'll end up like them?"

He shakes his head. "No dip-shit. I'm saying you're standing at a crossroads. You don't have to become them. But you won't avoid pain, either; you can make something for yourself."

His words hit deeper than I expected.

"…How do I do it, change heck leave it all behind?"

His expression doesn't change. "You don't. But you can learn to control it do what you want when you want."

The air crackles between us.

He steps even closer. "You think speed is your only gift?"

"…Isn't it?"

His smirk is subtle, but there's something knowing in his eyes. "No. It's just the door."

Something in my chest tightens.

He continued, his voice quieter now. "You have been asking the wrong questions since the beginning. Instead of wondering what you can do, start asking what you can change."

The moment the words leave his mouth, the world shatters. 

And i', back

Standing in a random parking lot, my breath feels shallow, and my hands are slightly unsteady.

Exhaling slowly, running a hand through my hair. I understand it now

I turn and start walking back toward town, his words repeating in my head.

Instead of wondering what you can do…

Start asking what you can change.

(Day After)

People watch me. That's nothing new.

I'm the new kid, a mystery to some and a cliche to others, the one who simply doesn't fit. People always stare at things they don't understand. Lately, however, the way that has changed, at least to me.

It started with Stefan.

Before, he was casual and indifferent towards me. He would nod in the halls, glance politely or distantly here or there. But now? He's paying attention. In class, his eyes flick to me when he thinks I'm not looking. In the hallways, he's a step too aware of my presence. It's not curiosity. It's suspicion or concern, I don't know.

And I don't like it.

Then there's Elena. While I don't particularly care about her, it ties into what I've experienced and what I currently am.

She and Stefan were supposed to be the new poster couple for Disney romance, perfect slow-burn. Especially after her parents' death and breakup with Matt. But now? There's space between them, a weird tension that wasn't there before. She's quieter, more reserved; her smiles don't reach her eyes, and when she looks at Stefan, it's not all heart-eyes and slight devotion anymore. It's like she's questioning something.

Maybe him.

Maybe herself.

And then there's Bonnie 

I don't know her well outside of meeting her initially and the party, but I know this Bonnie Bennett doesn't space out She's sharp, grounded. But I've caught her zoning out in class, fingers twitching like she's listening to something the rest of us can't hear. She snaps back fast, but for those few seconds?

She looks… lost.

Like she's somewhere else.

And Caroline? She's still loud, overbearing, and has an opinion on everything. But there's something off about it now, like she's trying too hard to be herself. Like she's standing too straight, speaking too fast, like if she slows down for even a second, the mask might slip.

It's subtle. Probably, no one else would notice.

But I do.

And Vicki is just a can or worms I don't want to think about as of now.

And yet. None of that comes close to what really has me on edge or at least concerned.

Damon Salvatore, took some time to figure out his identity from his his appearance alone yet the problem is that he is, Walking. Talking. Existing.

And that? That shouldn't be possible

Because I Fucking killed him.

I didn't just fight him. I didn't just hurt him.

I snapped his goddamn neck.

I know what death feels like in a sense. I know what a body does when life flickers out of it the way the muscles go slack, the way the air escapes from the lungs one last time.

And I know he was dead.

But there he is. Strolling through town like nothing happened, smirking like the world is his oyster.

Look I don't genuinely believe in miracles but shit I might start now, but logically speaking. There must be an explanation.

Possibly some form of accelerated cellular regeneration. Some kind of rapid healing that brings him back before the damage is permanent. Or, heck, maybe something akin to post-mortem resurrection, something that is encoded in his biology that forces a reboot after death.

Heck, it could be something even stranger. Something like Turritopsis dohrnii- the immortal jellyfish. That tiny little freak of nature can reset its own cellular state, reverting back to an earlier stage of life and starting over. What if Damon has something similar? Nah, that would mean he would have some form of chrono manipulation on some form, and based on his speed, he could've done it almost instantaneously, which he didn't.

Or what if he can't stay dead? While I don't believe it.

The thought makes my skin prickle.

Because if he can do the impossible…

Then maybe I can too.

And I think it's time I take steps to find out.

After all.

Instead of wondering what you can do…

Start asking what you can change.

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PowerStones!!!!!!!

Had to do some re-editing and establish a consistent timeline and allowing Cyrus to progress his powers and as a person.