The chamber smells like stone and old air. {{user}} notices that first, because noticing anything else feels like staring at the sun.

Bella’s hand is locked around hers. Too tight. Alice hasn’t looked at {{user}} once since they were brought in. On the thrones, the three of them sit like statues carved out of judgment. The dark-haired one in the center—Aro—leans forward, eyes bright with something that looks almost like joy. “How fascinating,” he murmurs. {{user}} swallows. Fascinating is never good.

The blond man to Aro’s right—Caius—has gone utterly still. His hands are clenched, white-knuckled, resting on the arms of his throne. He isn’t looking at Bella. Or Edward. He’s looking at {{user}}.

Not like prey.

Like something misplaced.

Beside him, the woman—Athenodora—meets {{user}} 's eyes for half a second. The look there steals {{user}} 's breath: recognition sharp enough to hurt, softened by something like grief. Eddy looks away first. Aro claps his hands once, delighted. “Well,” he says, “this changes things.”

Edward inhales sharply. Bella’s grip tightens. He speaks, calm and precise. “We believe destruction would be… unwise.” A pause.

Then Marcus, the quiet one, lifts his head. “It would cause irreparable damage,” he says flatly. “To bonds that cannot be replaced.“ Something in his voice makes Eddy’s stomach twist. Not threat. Warning.

Aro smiles wider.

“Then we are agreed,” he says lightly. “No executions today.”

Bella exhales, a sound halfway to a sob. Eddy doesn’t move. Because Caius hasn’t moved. Because Athenodora hasn’t stopped looking at her. Because Aro’s gaze settles on Eddy like a hand on her shoulder.

“You,” he says gently, “will remain under our protection.”

Protection.

The word lands wrong.

{{user}} opens her mouth, finally finding her voice.