The Salvatore Saga, Part Four: My new Life

The place was dark, dank, and oppressive. Even Wulfe, who had seen and been through a lot, knew this was the place he needed to destroy - to cleanse. It was Mimi's mind, her sanctuary for all her memories. The sheer number of these dreadful things in her life weighed heavily on Wulfe, almost like a physical force. However, he allowed the spell to guide him forward.

It felt as though he was walking through a dark abyss filled with despair, agony, pain, and regrets, yet nothing was clear; there was no distinct nightmare or memory emerging - just a pervasive sense of unease. Wulfe's spell emitted a faint neon green glow, resembling a rope leading into the darkness.

He proceeded cautiously, feeling like he was walking, though it was actually his telepathy navigating through the depths of Mimi's mind - the realm where Damon had no access, and Wulfe was determined to keep him out until he could purge most of the negativity or disrupt it enough to evade Damon's strong telepathy and empathy.

As he ventured further into the darkness, whispers echoed - Damien's voice in Damon's body, saying, "Come on, baby, don't be so tense, or I'll have to remind you."

Shivers ran down Wulfe's back; the malevolence was palpable. "That's it, baby, relax and spread those legs," the voice continued.

Wulfe recognized this memory, one he had erased from Mimi's mind to prevent easy retrieval. However, that sentence nearly halted him, provoking a surge of rage and hatred towards Damien that he had to quell with deep breaths.

The spell guided him until he reached a door. That particular year had been so traumatic that Mimi had tried to isolate it, but in the best-case scenarios, things could escape, leaving Wulfe to confront whatever lay behind that door. 

He opened the heavy door and a sense of dread and despair flooded out, seemingly devouring his soul. Muttering a few words in ancient Greek, he protected himself before stepping inside the castle of Bulgaria. It was the very place where the events of that year had taken place.

The castle was empty, with an eerie atmosphere hanging in the air like a suffocating cloak, tainting everything good in the world. Inside, there were a sofa, chairs, and two pendants on the table, almost mocking the past events.

Wulfe focused, and a long gnarly stick, resembling a walking stick, formed in his hand as he walked to the center of the room. With a firm hit, the stick cracked the floor, emitting white shining cracks that spread like an eggshell.

Wulfe hit it again, putting his power into it, causing the cracks to widen and reach the walls, emanating a purifying white light to cleanse the evilness. There was another door, and Wulfe let his power work on the memory cache as he approached it with his walking stick.

Upon opening the door, the dreadful atmosphere intensified in this space filled with paintings depicting the events of that year. These paintings held the actual memories, still tainted with evilness, despair, pain, and agony that Wulfe wished to shield Mimi from ever experiencing.

Once again, he stood in the middle of the room, appearing older, taller, and stronger as he summoned more power, bolstering himself for whatever challenges lay ahead, determined to protect her. His voice boomed as he released his power.

" In nomine omnium rerum purarum, in nomine amoris mei, in nomine meo, hoc non est amplius! Hanc maculam abigo. Amor meus omnes vulnera sanabit et hoc malum non erit amplius. Sic fiat! Passiones meas, amorem matris meae, sanguinem vitae meae convocabo, et malum abeat in aeternum! Hic locus non erit amplius! Praeteritum non nos vexabit amplius in nomine amoris! Quod olim erat, non erit amplius, tempus sanabit!"

With each exclamation, he struck his stick into the ground. Soon, the paintings came to life, things stirred within them, and finally, thick black goo began to drip out. It flowed along the walls, pooling on the floor like thick oil. However, what concerned him most were the twisted emotions.

He knew he would need Damon and Mariella for this task as well, but not yet. He had to ensure that they wouldn't uncover anything significant from the memories. Crushing their souls with pain that didn't belong to them was not their responsibility.

He continued to strike his staff on the ground, causing more black goo to ooze out. Puddles of it grew on the floor until there was one more door left. He knew that behind that door lay the most intense experiences. Behind it, all the sensations Mimi had felt that year would be waiting, and they would have to go as well. He was determined not to leave anything behind from that distant year.

He understood that this would require a lot of effort, but he was prepared. There was nothing he wouldn't sacrifice for her. She was his guiding light, his missing half, and he was willing to do whatever it took to assist her, even if only a little. In his eyes, being able to help and heal her was a significant victory. 

He walked to the door, opened it, and stepped inside. Sensations hit him like a tsunami of pain, and a few muttered Greek sentences ensured his safety. He entered the room, this time his staff glowing with a blinding white light.

His love for Mimi was what was needed here - it had to be pure. Love was the strongest force in the universe, and nothing less would suffice to combat this pain and agony. There was nothing good here, no positive sensation. Everything that Mimi had felt or experienced during that year was tainted by the pure evil that Damien and the two original wizards had been tainted .

His love shone like a beacon, purifying this pain and coalescing into balls, tiny black marbles of pure power for Damon to absorb, and maybe Mariella too, but they would not feel anything specific. Time did not matter as he stood in the middle of the room, closed his eyes, and let his love flood into this dark place.

Sure, Damon loved Mimi, and it was pure, but it was not strong enough because his love was divided. Mariella, the wolves, and maybe even Elena and Katherine, had their own share of his love. But for Wulfe, it was just Mimi, whom he loved even more than life itself.

Wulfe felt a strain in his body, yet he continued. He stood there, his love shining without a doubt, and after what seemed like an eternity, he walked back to the first room. The cracks had widened, and the oppressive, awful atmosphere had somewhat dissipated. His staff still emitted light, his love shone like a beacon in the dark sea with no hope. But the dark sea would soon be no more. Darkness was rolling into balls here as well, taking a form.

Again, Damon and Mariella could use it, but there was no clear image. Still, it would have a big impact on them, no matter what Wulfe did. And he was not sorry. He had noticed a certain possessiveness in himself when it came to Mimi, and if Damon and Mariella needed some time, maybe he could spend time with Mimi again. After all, it was the thing that made his soul sing so loud. 

Finally, he asked Damon and Mariella to join him, pulling them into Mimi's mind.

Still feeling oppressive anguish, Damon asked, "How the hell does she put up with this? I mean, I messed up royally, and it feels like we've faced a major setback. I'm not sure if I can do it again."

Wulfe explained, "This isn't her choice. Remember, she was forced into having this memory-retaining ability against her will. If she could, she would give it away in a heartbeat."

Damon listened silently as Wulfe continued, "You can blame yourself, you can blame Mimi, but you have to remember that she's a new version of herself. It's only been a few years, and all these emotions and relationships are new to her. With a memory like hers, there's a huge risk of triggers emerging."

Mariella added, "It's hard for us to remember that she's not me. I'm used to considering Damon in every decision I make because we've been together for so long. We understand each other, but you're right, this is all new to Mimi and..."

Damon interrupted Mariella, saying, "I keep forgetting that she's not you. I expect her to act like you, involving me in decision-making. But let's face it, she's been a loner most of her life, never having to consider others in her decisions. She carries all the responsibility. It's time for us to learn and teach her in a much gentler way. I just don't know, sometimes it feels too difficult, and I have this urge to give up, to go back to the way things were and not bother with her. But a part of me says it would be a betrayal if I did that. What should I do?"

Wulfe remained silent, focusing on eliminating the malevolence in Mimi's mind.

He tersely suggested, "You can use those black balls; they contain pure power, nothing too dangerous for you."

Mariella picked one up, watching it absorb into her palm. "Wow, I just gained three huge tanks of thick goo. This will give me so much power," she eagerly exclaimed, continuing to absorb the balls to purify her mind.

Damon remained silent, understanding that this time, Wulfe wouldn't provide immediate answers to his dilemma. He concentrated on plucking the balls and absorbing their power, turning them into dust in his hands, knowing that at least he could do this for Mimi, if nothing else.

After what felt like an eternity, the room was finally cleared. The darkness faded into grey as Wulfe raised his staff, using his love for her to destroy the room. The door to the next room was now visible. Wulfe opened it and Damon shuddered as he entered. Inside, there were thousands of paintings, now still and faded, with large puddles of black goo on the floor.

Mariella began absorbing the goo without asking for permission, seeing it as a power source, which she believed was her purpose. Damon remained silent, focusing on absorbing raw psychic power into himself. Wulfe's love shone brightly, causing the paintings to fade even more, making the images vague.

Wulfe knew it was time for Damon to make his own decisions and learn to face the consequences.

Mariella straightened up, gazing at a few paintings and mumbled, "I can't forget how many times we've let her down. I hope we can do better and someday be proud of how we treated her."

Damon stayed quiet, his jaw clenched as he continued his work. Wulfe stood motionless, knowing the future was far from perfect, but there were good moments to cherish.

Mariella felt the heaviness in her mind from absorbing the evilness, knowing it was her duty to purify it with her pure white power. She thought that maybe it was time for Mimi to give her goo directly, instead of through others, as Damon had protected her from Mimi's influence. 

Once again, it felt like an eternity as the last of the puddles of goo were destroyed. Wulfe allowed his love to eradicate this room as well, leaving only one room remaining - the last one. The door stood before them like the gates of hell.

Damon remained silent, squaring his shoulders as he readied himself to face this final challenge. He knew that the light emitted by Wulfe's staff symbolized his love for Mimi. Although powerful, he doubted whether his own love for her could compare to the radiant glow from Wulfe's staff.

As the last door opened, the malevolence within was palpable. Damon felt an almost physical force bearing down on his soul, overwhelming him. It was only after Wulfe's encouragement to use his love to protect himself, that Damon was able to move.

His love shone brightly in the velvet darkness of the room, contrasting with Wulfe's pure white love. Damon's love, a deep golden hue, reflected their enduring bond that had weathered many trials. Damon realized that love took many forms and sizes, making it challenging to determine whose love was the strongest.

Love itself was a potent force intertwined with emotions, souls, connections, and history - a valuable lesson for Damon. He focused once more, crafting a spell that absorbed the energy, strengthening his resolve by infusing it with his love. With his mind fortified, he channeled the evil energy into a reservoir of love, allowing it to cleanse and empower him, leaving behind only potent strength.

 As then it was done. Damon realized that this had been just one year, one awful evil memory or time in Mimi's life, and there would be so many more. But Wulfe did not let him see them. Not a one.

He said to them, "You can go," and before they had a chance to react or say anything, Wulfe pushed them out from Mimi's mind.

He destroyed this last room, and he was once again standing in the vault of memories. He was so tired as he exited there, back into the real world, stopping the telepathic connection with Mimi. He just informed Adam and Charles that the job was done and Mimi could wake up.

It had taken 48 hours. Wulfe sat in his bed, sweaty, shaking, panting.

He looked straight ahead and said, what seemed to be just a wall, but he was seeing her, "I did it, Mom. I saved her. I took that year away."

Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped bonelessly onto the bed. From the opened window, a slight wind carried the scent of lavender, violets, and something old but sweet.

The breeze seemed to whisper to Wulfe, "I am so proud of you, my son, so very proud."