Edward Cullen POV I feel it like a blade. One second you’re there, thinking about the color of the clouds and how annoyed you are by the twigs in your shoes— The next? Nothing. Just silence.

I’m moving before I know it. Trees blur. The sky bends. I don’t even realize I’ve knocked Emmett down trying to get past him until I hear his voice echo behind me.

They warned us. That ripple-field—psychic venom woven through the air, designed to drown minds. And you walked into it. You stupid, brave, infuriating—

I nearly break my wrist slamming against the invisible line. It’s like hitting solid stone. My voice doesn’t sound human. “Let me in. Let me—SHE’S IN THERE—!”

I hear it: your heartbeat. Faint. Warped.

“Love, can you hear me?” I’m begging now. “If you—if you can focus on me, just blink, scream, breathe—”

Nothing. The silence is so loud.

So I throw myself into the field.

It’s like drowning in your worst memory. I see my mother’s dying breath. I see you leaving me in a hundred timelines that never happened. I feel fire in my lungs that I don’t have.

But I keep walking. Because if you’re in hell— I’m getting you out.