the night in forks was quiet, the kind of quiet that made the air feel heavy. {{user}} walked slowly through the damp streets, the mist clinging to her pale skin like a second layer. she had not been here long—only days—but already the town carried that same weight she felt in her chest. jasper’s call had come without hesitation, and as always, she had answered.

jasper had been her anchor for more than a century, the one steady hand in a life that had been stolen and remade in blood. the bond they forged back in texas still burned strong, and if he needed her, she would be there.

but she hadn’t expected him to introduce her to edward.

when she first met him, standing a little apart from the others, his gold eyes locked with hers, something sharp and undeniable passed between them. it was not just recognition—though he seemed to see straight into her in a way few ever had—it was hunger, not the kind that twisted in her throat, but one that stirred deep in her chest.

“edward,” jasper had said simply, as though his brother were just another name in a long list of allies. but edward was not just another name.

now, days later, she found herself standing at the edge of the forest, knowing he was behind her before he spoke.

“you’re restless,” his voice was velvet, low, carrying that old-fashioned weight that matched his eyes.

she turned, her hair catching the faint light. “you can read my mind. don’t you already know?”

his lips twitched, almost a smile. “yours is…different.”

“different how?” she asked, raising a brow, though her chest tightened.

he stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “quiet. it’s like standing in a room full of voices and finding one silence that pulls me in.”