Chapter One: The Forgotten Shadow
Fog slithered through the trees of Mystic Falls like a serpent, coiling around the roots of the past and secrets left to rot in the dark. The town slept, unaware that something older than its blood-soaked legends had awakened. And with the return of the Salvatore brothers, a presence long erased from memory began to stir once more among the whispering oaks.
Alexander Salvatore stood at the edge of Wickery Bridge—the place where things so often ended… or began. The wind tugged at his black leather jacket, but he didn't move, a statue carved in silence. His long, tousled dark hair fell into piercing green eyes, eyes shadowed by something darker than time. There was no warmth in them, only a quiet storm.
He looked down at the water below, clutching an old, tattered journal whose edges had been worn by time. The name etched into its most recent pages meant nothing to him—Elena Gilbert—a girl tied to the same chaos that had drawn his brothers back to this cursed town.
He didn't care about her. Not the way others did. There was no attraction, no aching curiosity. She was merely a piece on the chessboard. Nothing more.
What Alexander wanted—what burned inside him like a dying star—was the truth.
Why had Stefan and Damon left him that night in 1864?
Why hadn't they looked for him?
Why had they believed he was dead, while his blood screamed their names through the flames?
---
Mystic Falls High School buzzed with the chaos of a new school year. Students filled the hallways, laughing, chattering, living lives too small to comprehend the weight creeping toward them from the edges of the shadow.
Elena Gilbert smiled as she walked beside Bonnie Bennett, hiding her sorrow behind tired eyes and a practiced grin.
Across the street, Alexander leaned against his black motorcycle, a cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. His eyes weren't on Elena, but on the shadow that had just entered the school courtyard.
Stefan Salvatore.
Alexander's jaw tightened. His grip on the journal hardened.
He hadn't seen his brothers in over a century. Hadn't spoken their names in decades. And now—here they were, returning to town like ghosts with carefully combed hair and neatly buried sorrow.
He didn't approach. Not yet.
Let them enjoy one more day of peace.
Let them believe their sins were still buried.
---
Later, as the darkness painted the sky in shades of blood, Alexander walked toward the Salvatore family home. The air reeked of memories—laughter turned bitter, promises turned lies.
He didn't knock.
Damon met him on the front steps.
"Well, hellfire," Damon drawled, a lazy grin curling the edge of his mouth. "I knew something felt off. Thought it was heartburn. But look who crawled back from the dead."
Alexander's smile was a blade.
"Still charming, I see. I'd say I missed you, but that'd be a lie."
Damon stepped closer. "We thought you were dead, Alexander."
Alexander scoffed. "Did you? Or was it just easier to leave me behind?"
Damon's expression darkened. "It was chaos. We were being hunted. The church was burning—"
"And you ran." Alexander cut him off. "You ran and never looked back."
Silence fell, thick and heavy.
"Where's Stefan?" Alexander asked.
Damon shrugged. "Probably pondering life or writing in his journal. He'll be thrilled to see you."
"I'm not here for a family reunion," Alexander said coldly. "I want answers. I want the truth. Because someone wanted me gone that night—and it wasn't just the townsfolk."
---
Night deepened. In the cemetery, Elena knelt beside her parents' grave, the moon casting a pale glow over the headstones.
Alexander appeared without a sound, a shadow slipping among shadows. He watched her for a moment, reading in her face the sorrow she didn't hide, but wore like bruises still fresh.
He stepped forward.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said.
Elena turned, startled. "You scared me."
"I tend to do that."
She eyed him warily. "Who are you?"
"Alexander."
"Do I know you?"
"No."
She nodded slowly, feeling something strange about him. But Alexander had already turned, fading back into the darkness without another word.
---
Back at the house, Stefan sat in silence while Damon poured himself a drink.
"Did you see him?" Stefan asked.
Damon nodded. "Alive. And pissed. Thinks we left him on purpose."
Stefan frowned. "We didn't know. We thought he died."
Damon looked into his glass. "Yeah. But maybe someone wanted us to think that. Someone wanted him gone."
Stefan's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Damon's smirk faded. "That's what scares me."
---
In the woods outside town, Alexander stood bare-chested beneath the moonlight, his breath ragged in the night air. Scars covered his back—symbols faintly glowing beneath his skin. The curse pulsed within him, a living thing with fangs.
He fell to his knees, clutching his head as pain surged through him.
Visions.
Fire.
A woman screaming.
A witch's eyes burning red.
"You won't survive."
His scream tore through the silence of the forest.
He would find out what happened that night. He would uncover who cursed him. And he would make the Salvatore brothers remember.
Because Alexander Salvatore had returned.
And he wasn't here for redemption.
---
Important Note:
I am an Arabic writer.
I know English, but not well enough to write an entire novel in it.
That's why I turned to ChatGPT for help with translation.
I apologize if there are any mistakes.