Her Immortal Destiny

Mother

Misty POV

It felt slightly awkward being in Wyatt's house alone. The silence hung heavy in the air, amplifying my solitude. The unfamiliarity of the situation made it feel different, almost as if I longed for his presence, even though he had only been gone for a short while. Throughout my life, I had grown accustomed to being spoken to solely when someone needed something from me. But now, having someone talk to me and spend time with me just for the sake of my company, it felt refreshing. It was a new experience, one that would take time to adjust to.

Standing in the room designated for potion-making, I scanned the multitude of orders that Wyatt had received. Concern still gnawed at me regarding his involvement in the black market. However, these particular orders seemed to be different. They mostly consisted of healing potions and sleep potions, suggesting they were intended for sale in the human territories or to werewolf packs. As I perused the mixtures he had meticulously recorded, I realized that they were entirely unfamiliar to me. The spells accompanying them were equally unknown. It struck me then, as I read and reread the notes, that these were Wyatt's personal spells and creations.

The sharing of personal spells among witches was a rarity, typically reserved for family or apprentices. The fact that Wyatt had casually entrusted them to me spoke volumes about the level of trust he had in me. A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I, too, trusted him wholeheartedly. He had gone to great lengths in a short span of time to earn my trust, and now I believed that everything he had been doing was for my protection. I owed him a great deal at this moment, and I was determined to assist him in any way I could.

Moreover, I yearned to learn from him. He had repeatedly mentioned my latent power, and while I was aware of some of my abilities, ever since he had allowed me to sense his true potential, I suspected that he possessed far greater power than me. Collaborating with him would undoubtedly expand my knowledge and skills.

I kept myself busy for a decent amount of time, meticulously mixing the potions. The room was filled with the invigorating aroma of fresh herbs, their vibrant colors adding a touch of life to the space. As I spoke the incantations that he had written down, a faint trace of magic seemed to envelop me, tingling through my fingertips.

After completing about half of the orders he had given me, a wave of slight fatigue washed over me. Adhering to my promise, I decided to take a break. Although I wasn't tired enough to sleep, I still wanted to savor the pleasant evening before it grew too late. I've always loved reading, and his collection, as I had observed during the house tour, was truly impressive.

Venturing towards his bookshelves, my eyes scanned over the titles, each one holding the promise of a new adventure. At the end of one shelf, my gaze landed upon a set of books that appeared more personal, like diaries. A moment of hesitation gripped me, realizing these were likely written by Wyatt himself. I pondered whether it was appropriate for me to delve into his private thoughts. However, since he hadn't explicitly said they were off-limits, curiosity got the better of me.

With a hint of guilt, I reached out and gently plucked one of the diaries from its place. Opening it up, I began to peruse a few pages. Wyatt had meticulously documented his life and the extraordinary journeys he had undertaken while working. His writing style was nothing short of exquisite, painting vivid images with his words. It felt more like reading an enthralling story than someone's personal experiences. Intrigued, I decided to take the diary outside with me, eager to continue delving into Wyatt's captivating world.

I stepped outside, feeling the cool breeze brush against my skin as I settled onto a wooden bench in his well maintained garden. The full moon cast a soft glow, illuminating the pages of the book I held in my hands. The scent of nature filled the air, mingling with the earthy fragrance of herbs from his well-cared garden. It was in moments like these, surrounded by the tranquility of the night, that I found solace.

His property sprawled across a vast expanse of land, a testament to the care and dedication he poured into its upkeep. Though he rarely resided here, his periodic return to nurture his beloved garden spoke volumes about his character. A house reveals much about a witch or warlock, and in Wyatt's case, it showcased his nurturing nature and wisdom. Despite the dangerous path he walked, undertaking perilous tasks, his soul was kind and compassionate. Perhaps, he was unaware of this goodness within himself, even viewing himself as a figure of darkness. But I knew better; he was inherently good.

I gently touched the necklace he had given me, seeking a connection. As I did, a symphony of thoughts echoed in my mind, indicating his presence at the club. However, discerning anything specific proved challenging amidst the loud noises. The necklace, I believed, held the key to bridging the gap between us. For now, I trusted that when he returned, he would share all he had discovered.

Opening his worn book, I delved back into his words, losing myself in the vivid tapestry of his experiences and the life he had led. Through his writings, I glimpsed fragments of his true self, each page bringing me closer to understanding him. He chronicled his ventures in various villages, documenting their progress over time. Being immortal, he confessed, often left him feeling isolated and trapped in a repetitive existence, frozen while those around him aged.

Then, I stumbled upon a section that spoke of his mother. He painted a picture of a woman with long, flowing brown hair that cascaded like ocean waves. She had been chosen to bear an immortal child, and unlike many who simply have a child out of duty, she showered him with genuine love from the moment he was born. Scribbled on the page were the lyrics to a lullaby, foreign to my ears, prompting me to skip over them.

He recounted how she taught him about the wonders of the world, her smile radiating boundless joy. But one day, she vanished without a trace, leaving him behind. Fear gripped his heart, and he vowed to find her, embarking on countless quests alongside his duties. As I continued reading, I became completely engrossed in his captivating narrative, yearning to uncover more of his story.

As I read deeper into his diary, the words brought to life his early encounters with the black market. The pages whispered tales of pure evil, drawing me further into the dark world he had entered. His motivation became clear - he sought crucial information about his mother, a reason that tugged at my heartstrings. Wyatt's love for her was palpable, bringing tears to my eyes. He was a devoted son, willing to do anything to find her and offer his help.

He described the initial struggle of dealing with those tainted by darkness and those who had completely sold their souls. The ink on the pages seemed to carry a hint of their malevolence, as if the words themselves were tainted. Wyatt confessed how his own actions had left him feeling stained, even when casting spells with no inherent link to evil. The presence of darkness lingered, leaving a mark on his very being.

Page after page, he chronicled his interactions with shady characters and his relentless pursuit of information. He mentioned his belief that his grandmother held the key to his mother's disappearance, yet she refused to divulge certain truths, claiming it would disrupt the future. Frustration seeped through his words, but he remained steadfastly loyal to his grandmother and his mission.

I couldn't help but wonder if he had another diary, filled with the extensive knowledge he had gathered on the cursed child. As I continued reading, he delved into those he deemed worse than the wolf king. He spoke of the reputation he had built over time, but it came at a cost - he felt like he was losing himself. Determining right from wrong grew increasingly difficult, pushing him to take greater risks. Some jobs, he admitted, were purely for his own pleasure, allowing him to indulge in the dark magic that tantalized his senses. It felt addictive, yet he recognized the dangers and tried to rein himself in to the best of his ability.

My eyes grew heavy, fatigue setting in. I longed to stay outside, basking in the moon's gentle glow. Rising from my seat, I settled on the grass near a towering tree on his property. The cool blades tickled my skin as I gazed at the majestic tree and the twinkling stars above. Placing the book safely by my side, I closed my eyes momentarily, surrendering to the soothing embrace of relaxation eventually falling asleep.

_________

As I began to stir from my sleep, I felt a gentle swaying sensation beneath me. Opening my groggy eyes, I found myself cradled in Wyatt's arms.

"Did you sleep well?" he whispered softly, his voice laced with tenderness. "I'm sorry for falling asleep outside with the book," I mumbled, my words still heavy with drowsiness.

"It's alright. I have the book," he reassured me. "I shouldn't have read it," I apologized, remorse evident in my tone. "If I wanted it to remain private, I would have moved it," he replied, his voice calm and understanding.

"I admit, I've read most of it. I know more about you now," I confessed.

"I hope that helps you trust me more," he responded, devoid of any trace of anger. As he carried me into the room where potions were made, I was momentarily taken aback.

"Misty, I need your permission. I discovered something tonight and I need to verify it. I suspect there may be a hidden mark on you, concealed by a spell. To undo it, I would need to use a potion. I promise to explain everything once it's done, but it would be easier if I can examine you first," he admitted.

"Okay, you have my permission," I agreed, feeling it was only fair, especially after spending the night delving into his diary. He gently set me down for a moment and cleared the table.

"The lighting in here is best," he explained, his voice gentle and considerate. Placing his hand on me briefly, he continued, "I need you to remove your clothing, all of it, Misty." I hesitated momentarily, a slight nervousness creeping in. But then again, he had already seen all of me last night. Slowly, I began to remove my clothing, baring myself to him.

"I'll check your front half first," Wyatt stated, walking over to me and effortlessly lifting me onto the table. "Lie down for me," he instructed, and obediently, I complied. He reached for a bowl, mixing oils and herbs together, creating a concoction.

"This may feel a little strange, but it won't hurt you," he reassured me as his hand dipped into the mixture. Starting from my head, he began to rub the mixture all over me, his touch both firm and gentle. Although this was for a spell, the way his hands moved across my skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, causing me to arch towards him involuntarily.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, a sound that mingled with the sensations enveloping me.

"I'm glad this at least feels good for you," he said softly. As he performed a incantation, his fingertips brushed against my skin. Slowly, his hand moved up my thighs, causing a faint blush to rise on my cheeks. The pleasure I felt was building, and I knew he would soon notice it.

Suddenly, he paused, his finger hovering over something. "Found it," he whispered, his voice barely audible. He studied me intently, his eyes scanning my body before he placed his hand on me. Uttering an unfamiliar incantation, a strange warmth surged through my veins, momentarily engulfing me in its embrace.

"You, Misty, are very special," he declared, his voice laced with awe. "Have you heard of the mark of the originals?" he questioned, his tone filled with intrigue. I nodded, dismissing it as a mere myth.

"It's very much real, Misty, and you have it," he said, his voice filled with certainty. I stammered, "I have it?" My heart raced as I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy, as if weighed down by an invisible force. I couldn't even move my arm. "Don't panic, it's just the spell I used," he reassured me. "It will fade very soon. For now, know that you have the mark and that others are aware of it. That's why you're wanted. How you obtained it remains a mystery, but together we'll uncover the truth. I never give up on finding the truth."

Struggling to comprehend, I whispered, "Where is the mark?" Wyatt brushed his hand between my legs, his finger tracing up my thigh before coming to a halt. "Here," he said mischievously. "I'll show you once you can move again. It's well-hidden in an intimate place." Though paralyzed, I could still feel the sensations from his touch.

"Are you comfortable with me carrying you?" he asked gently. "Yes," I managed to say, my voice barely audible. As he lifted me into his arms, I felt a sense of safety envelop me. He placed me on his bed and disappeared momentarily, returning with a warm, wet cloth. His touch was both comforting and soothing as he wiped away the oil from my body. "Thanks," I whispered gratefully.

"You're a mystery Misty, and I look forward to unraveling your secrets," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. "I'll do my best to help you harness your powers and keep you safe. Although I have a feeling you'll be strong on your own, I still want to be by your side." His words held an enchanting power, resonating deep within me.

Once he finished cleansing me, Wyatt chanted a spell, conjuring comfortable clothing onto my body. "Get some more sleep now, Misty.” He instructed. As he moved to leave, I couldn't help but ask, "Are you not staying with me?" He paused, considering my words. "I will stay if that's what you want," he replied. "I want you to," I replied, my voice filled with longing.

In a fast motion, he changed into more comfortable attire and joined me in bed, extinguishing the lights. He gently shifted me so that my body was nestled against his in a comforting embrace. I never thought I would find solace in the arms of a man like this, but now that he was in my life, I knew I would never be able to sleep peacefully without him. "Is this okay?" he asked softly. "Yes, goodnight Wyatt," I whispered. "Goodnight, Misty," he responded. As the room fell into silence, I drifted to sleep, enveloped in his warmth.