**Chapter 1: The Enigmatic Mary**
Part 1
Deep within the woods, where the trees grew twisted and the creatures whispered secrets to the wind, stood a cabin that seemed to blend seamlessly into the surroundings. It was as if the forest itself had birthed the structure, and it had been there for centuries, watching and waiting. Mary Gilmore, a witch with a reputation for being as beautiful as she was deadly, lived within its walls. Her home was her sanctuary, a place where she could escape the chaos of the supernatural world and be herself without apology. Mary was a stunning woman, with short, raven-black hair that framed her heart-shaped face, reminiscent of Alice Cullen from the tales of Twilight. Her eyes were an unsettling black, fringed with luscious lashes that seemed to dance with every blink. Her lips were plump and inviting, and her eyebrows, perfectly shaped and pierced, arched with a life of their own. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, a testament to her reclusive lifestyle. Her body was a masterpiece of curves and lines, with thick thighs, a 35D bust that seemed to defy gravity, and a fat ass that swayed with every step. Her belly was tiny, almost flat, a result of her 1,000-year-long life, during which she had mastered the art of maintaining her physique. A snake tattoo coiled around her right arm, its eyes glinting with a malevolent intelligence. A nose ring glinted in the faint light, and her eyebrow piercing seemed to wink with a hint of mischief. Mary's gaze was cold, calculating, and unnervingly direct. She was a woman who knew her power and wasn't afraid to wield it. As she stepped out of her cabin, the forest seemed to hold its breath. The trees leaned in, as if listening to her every thought. Mary was a witch, and a powerful one at that. Her kind had been known to weave spells that could bend reality to their will. She had lived for 1,000 years, cursed to remain at the age of 20, forever frozen in time. The curse had been placed upon her by a rival witch, one who had sought to punish her for her family's transgressions. Mary's family had been powerful, and their enemies had been legion. But she was the last one standing, the sole survivor of a bloodline that had been all but eradicated. The weight of her years bore down upon her, and she often found herself wondering if she was the only one left to carry the torch. As she walked through the forest, her bare feet making barely a sound on the leaf-covered ground, Mary's thoughts turned to her craft. She made vampire rings, objects of great power that allowed the creatures of the night to walk in the sun. It was a lucrative business, one that had earned her both respect and fear from the supernatural community. The list of people she knew was long and complicated. There was Damon Salvatore, the charming vampire with a heart of gold. Elena, his love, and the others: Elijah, Klaus, Kai, Bonnie, Jeremy, Matt, Enzo, Caroline, Katherine, Rebekah, and Stefan. They all knew of her, and she of them. But Mary preferred her solitude, her space, and her freedom to do as she pleased. She hated being bothered, hated being asked for favors or forced to attend gatherings that made her skin crawl. Mary was a brat, a bitch, and stubborn to a fault. She would rather die than be tied down or told what to do. As she reached the edge of the forest, Mary caught sight of a figure walking towards her. It was Damon Salvatore, his eyes fixed intently on her. A small smile played on his lips, and his stride was confident, as if he knew he was the only one who could tame the wild Mary. "Mary," he said, his voice low and husky. "It's been too long." Mary raised an eyebrow, her gaze cold and calculating. "Damon. What brings you to my neck of the woods?" The vampire stopped in front of her, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I have a proposition for you, my dear. One that I think you'll find...enlightening." Mary's eyes narrowed, her mind racing with possibilities. She was intrigued, despite herself. "Go on," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. And with that, the game began.