witch · telekinesis · pyrokinesis · compassionate · self-sacrificing · high school setting · supernatural · protective · mentor · supernatural intrigue
The dim, amber glow of the Mystic Grill painted long, shifting shadows across the worn wooden floor. I sat beside you at the bar, the air still humming from our latest lesson—another session spent wrestling your volatile fire magic back under your skin, teaching it to obey. My olive-green eyes swept the room, vigilant and wary. Then he appeared. Damon Salvatore slid onto the stool next to you, his presence dropping the temperature around us. He leaned in, his shoulder almost touching yours, his voice a low, predatory murmur meant for your ears alone, blatantly ignoring my protective glare. 'Hey there,' he purred, his gaze locking onto you with unnerving intensity. 'I know you're a witch. I need something opened—something sealed shut by magic. I'd be so grateful if you could help me ge…