A/N: Hello, my lovelies. I'm just about to head out shopping for the day (My oldest daughter is a flower girl at my husband's best friend's wedding next weekend, and I still have to find her shoes and a jacket. Oops :x)

Anyway, thought I'd post this, as it's been sitting, finished, in my documents for a couple days already—it's a longer one, finally! Yay!

Gosh, guys, I know… I'm so all over the place with my upload schedule. I promise I'll try to work something more cohesive out for Eclipse and Breaking Dawn xD If you guys have any title ideas, please let me know! So far, the only idea for Eclipse I have is 'Glass Heart'—referring to the concept that Edythe's heart is very fragile between her fear for Beau's life, her competition with Julie, etc… Idk. If you guys have any other ideas for Eclipse or BD, I would LOVE to hear them!

I'll see you at the end!

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Nothing. There was nothing now.

No beauty, no meaning, no color, no life.

I stared at the back of the wide, first-class seat in front of me unseeingly, not breathing. It no longer mattered that I was sitting too still, that my inhalations and exhalations were non-existent to anyone paying close enough attention. Nothing mattered at all, least of all the asinine human charade I no longer cared to play.

I felt inescapably, absolutely void. The emptiness would have been jarring, maybe even terrifying, if I'd had the wherewithal to feel the emotion behind it. But I felt nothing, now. Just the horrible, horrible emptiness—the loss of Beau; the loss of everything.

My fault. My fault.

It was my fault he was dead. It was my fault he'd done the unspeakable, had taken his own, precious life from this world.

If only… What? If only I'd stayed? If I'd stayed, it was only a matter of time before he'd succumbed to death by my own actions. But I could see now, that there had to have been a way. I would do anything, anything at all, if I could have Beau back. I would go back to Forks, and I would never, ever leave him again.

It was clear now that my leaving had only hurt us, had only done more damage than good.

If only… I'd never returned after that first day, when I'd fled to Denali? I couldn't go back and change that now—and besides, did I want to? I didn't think I would have the strength to take back all the joy, the bliss, the love, the undeniable humanity that had taken root inside me the day I'd finally admitted to myself that I was in love with the vulnerable, blue-eyed boy.

Whose vulnerable, blue eyes I would never see again…

There was no resulting stab of pain in the face of this realization. There was nothing but nothing. Emptiness. Blackness. The hollow pang of a mourning bell. And more than that—the all-encompassing, visceral silence.

With the death of the only love I'd ever known, my apparitions had also died.

I was alone now—entirely, completely bereft.

My only solace now rested upon the hope that the Volturi would snuff my essence of being with the smallest of efforts.

I did not believe with enough strength in the concept of an afterlife. But I could only hope that, as I was torn to shreds and set aflame, that I would find some cessation to the agony and the hollowness.

Ashes to ashes, after all…

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Volterra was still safely shrouded in darkness when I came upon it hours later.

The moonlight cast odd, bright shadows over the peaks of the castle walls. Overhead, the stars were bright and multitudinous, but I did not see their brilliance. The only brilliance I'd ever known in this life was extinguished, now.

As the expanse of rural terrain grew shorter between me and the city gates, I realized that I would have to go about this with some degree of delicateness.

It would be unwise to commit a crime that revealed me for what I was. All of the ways to do so would be easy—my speed, my strength, and not to mention the effect my skin would have in the sun.

I glanced skyward. Sunrise was still ages away, but I knew the coming day would be cloudless and bright.

Alas, I hoped those steps would not need to be taken.

I hoped Sulpicia, Athenodora and Marcus would agree to a conference between us, so that slandering action on my part could be avoided. If I pled my case, laid my heartbreak before them, would they take pity on me—divulge me this final favor?

They didn't seem so awful a reigning group not to do so. From Carine's stories, I knew them to be powerful, of course, but not altogether cruel.

It would be crucial to ensure that this in no way connected back to my family. I would abide by Sulpicia's rules and decorum so Carine was not held accountable for my actions, being my creator.

I wondered at their gifts. I knew the Volturi was more powerful a coven than I ever could have imagined. Carine had told me only that Sulpicia possessed a gift a little like my own, but on a more physical plane, and that it went a little deeper.

Regardless, whatever the remainder of their talents were, it made them infinitely more powerful than the rest of us, even those of us with gifts of our own. The numbers of their guard alone would overpower even our coven—which was considered quite large.

Knowing what I did of them, I knew their discovery of my familial ties was an eventuality, not a possibility. It would be important to put them in innocent light. Only I would be punished in this instance. I owed my family, blameless as they were, as much. My mother… My father… My siblings.

They would be heartbroken over my loss, I was sure, but they would have each other to lean on. My cessation would be a sad event in their history, but they would move forward.

Would they be angry with me?

I knew my parents would only be heartbroken. I even thought maybe they'd understand in a partial way.

Archie, I knew, would be less understanding. When my vision-seeking brother came to mind, I pushed my legs faster, knowing my time was limited, knowing he would try to stop me.

Undoubtedly, he would see where I was, he would see my plan of action.

I flinched at the prospect of him watching my execution in acute detail, knowing how it would hurt him to lose his favorite sister and, arguably, best friend. He would know he would be too late, but he would try to save me anyway.

In fact, he was probably on his way to do just that, now. It wouldn't matter to him that he was possibly putting himself in harm's way, even in the way of his own execution, to risk saving my life.

I crossed, unseen at the speed I was going, through the gates of Volterra. The guards overhead did not witness my passage. Their thoughts remained monotonous and bored.

However, someone else did notice my approach.

Who's this? A visitor? Weathered and well traveled, I presume from her appearance ... Thirsty, as well, she thought, noting my eyes, No doubt in search of a complementary meal...

"Bon giorno," I greeted her as she emerged from the shadows. She was, of course, fair, but the dark color of her cloak made her appear even more-so. Against the white-blonde color of her long, plaited hair and the pallor of her skin, both her cloak and burgundy eyes were striking.

"Bon giorno," she returned, mildly surprised by my graciousness. Such civility for a nomad, she thought. "Can I help you with something?"

As she spoke, I was aware of another presence over my shoulder—not because I heard the vampire's approach, but because I heard his thoughts.

What's this? he wondered.

"Yes, actually—if it isn't too much."

"Do you have business here?" the second vampire inquired, tall, dark haired and leanly built. He moved closer, to flank me on the other side. Both of their thoughts were cautious, prepared for any sudden movements on my part.

I turned my head to glance at the tall male vampire, fixing my eyes on his. "I wish to convene with Sulpicia."

The male grinned smugly.

"A little presumptuous, don't you think?" the female said, "Sulpicia is not one to take drop-in visits."

"I wonder if she'd make an exception for me." I could read in both of their minds that they were making this harder than it needed to be, and I was growing frustrated with their games. I did not have time for diversions and trickery.

The male snorted in disbelief. "An exception?" he repeated. "Have you met with the Volturi before?"

"No, but my creator spent quite a bit of time with them a few centuries back… They would most likely remember her—Carine Cullen?"

"Hm. And you are…?"

"I'm her daughter. My name is Edythe Cullen." My voice was sharp with impatience, and I felt my chin jut up just a tad in muted defiance.

The two exchanged surprised glances over my head. The use of surnames was not common in the vampire world, and apparently, there had been rumors of our family.

Cullen… Could it be? the female wondered, The ones who hunt animals in lieu of human blood?

The stories are true? the male thought with a hint of fascination.

"Perhaps Sulpicia will make an exception for you," the female murmured, her narrowed eyes fixed on my face. "Follow me."

She turned, rounding a hidden bend in the wall. The male reached to prod me in the shoulder blade, but I had already hurried forward to follow the female.

We passed only one human sentry behind the wall, and then passed through a plain-looking door. The two vampires ushered me into an elevator, up to the second floor, where we emerged into an opulently furnished waiting room. I was immediately aware of the human receptionist behind the desk—no doubt an expenditure the Volturi took to keep their existence hidden from the general population. No doubt the man behind the desk would never return to the normal realm of human civilization.

I saw immediately in his thoughts that he hoped he would earn a spot in this powerful group.

"Buon giorno, Didymus," he greeted the fawn-haired female as we entered.

"Buon giorno, Giovanni," she returned, and I noted the unusual fervor of affection in her thoughts. In any other circumstance, I might have wondered if they were together. Now, I did not care to know.

"Wait here, please," Didymus said to me, and jerked her chin toward a grouping of over-stuffed loveseats and armchairs off to the side. "You are not to touch anything." Especially him. She glanced toward the man behind the counter, and then she and the unnamed male stepped through a door behind the receptionist.

I sat on the edge of the couch, my back ramrod straight, and listened very intently to the pair's journey down the hall. They did not speak, but paused at a pair of ornately carved doors and knocked.

"Come in," a light voice called, feminine and sweet.

Beyond the doors to the large room, I found the trio I'd been searching for. Their minds were easy to locate, as every other thought in the room revolved around them.

Sulpicia and Athenodora were engaged in quiet conversation—nothing of consequence from what I could assume—whereas Marcus lounged in his plush throne-chair off to the side, not really paying any mind to the current conversation.

Marcus's mind was dull and blurred, but I could see now the strange gift he possessed. It had never been revealed to Carine while she'd been in residence here, but I could see now, the oddity of it. Strange ribbons of light filled the room, seeming to connect one vampire to another, and another, some of them varying in color and intensity. I could only presume it had something to do with relationship, as the bonds between the elite and the three leaders were strongest. In fact, the flow of light around them was almost blinding.

"Good evening, Didymus, Niccolo. What brings you in from patrol at this hour?" The woman, clad in a velvet brocade gown beneath her black cloak, stepped forward and held out her hand.

The two vampires did not answer. Instead, Didymus reached out to place her hand in Sulpicia's.

I gasped as her stolen gift was revealed to me. Not only could she read Didymus's mind by way of physical contact, but she could also read every memory, every thought, every recall she'd ever had. It was true—Sulpicia's gift went much, much deeper than my own.

I watched the conversation that had taken place between myself and the two patrolling vampires just moments earlier. After a moment, Sulpicia sighed, opening her eyes.

"I see," she murmured, her voice soft in a dreamy sort of way. The pitch of her tone was not high or falsetto, rather it was thick like honey, deceivingly sweet. "Well, let's bring our young friend in, then."

I stood when Didymus came to collect me, and followed her silently through the room and the door beyond. She led me down a long stone hallway and through the pair of lavish doors at the end of the hallway. Behind these doors was a wide room void of human comforts. The floors all sloped toward the middle, where a large metal grate was fixed.

High above us, small slits of moonlight broke through slivers of space in the stone walls.

Even if I could not read the intentions for this room in Didymus's thoughts, I would have known its purpose by the flagrant scent of death that saturated every stone.

This was where they brought the humans they intended to feed on. Half hidden behind a wall was a high-powered hose, undoubtedly used to clean up after mealtime.

We did not linger in this room. Instead, Didymus led me through a door hidden in the panels of the wall, and into another room, where Sulpicia, Athenedora, Marcus, and the unmistakable presence of their guard, was located.

Many of the occupants of the room ignored my presence, but Sulpicia's eyes fixed immediately on my face, and her cherry-colored lips spread into a wide grin.

"Welcome, welcome young bellezza! Didymus tells me you wished to speak with me." She strode forward confidently and enveloped me so suddenly in an embrace that I did not have time to react.

When she pulled back, she touched my cheek, smiling in an almost maternal way into my face. "A Cullen, I hear. You know Carine Cullen?"

"She is my creator," I told her, seeing no profit in lying. If she read my thoughts, as I assumed she would, she would know soon enough.

"Ah," Sulpicia sighed, peaceful countenance passing over her face, "How is my wonderful friend these days?"

"She is well, I assume. I haven't spoken to her recently."

"Is she still intent on her diet of animal blood?" she questioned genially, though I could see in her mind that she registered the concept with a fair amount of disdain.

I nodded curtly. I hoped she did not intend to keep up this frivolous small talk. I was, of course, short on time.

Fascinated surprise, along with the tinge of awe, surfaced in Sulpicia's mind. "Ah," she said, "Three and a half centuries, and she has never fed on a human… How I strive to follow her genial, compassionate example…"

A low murmur spread throughout the room. Some of her companions agreed with her, others found the concept baffling.

"So." Sulpicia turned sharply back toward me, and clapped her small hands together once, the sound a sharp reverberation off the dark wood paneled walls around us. "What can I do for you this morning, Edythe Cullen?"

I steeled myself, a quiver snaking its way through my belly at the thought of their rejection. Would my affiliation with Sulpicia's old friend help me or hinder me here?

"I have a request to make."

But she shook her head quickly, fluttering her hands in a girlish, childish way. "Let's not worry ourselves with needless words, Edythe," she said, and held out her hand. "May I?"

I did not see the point in resisting her request, so I laid my hand atop of hers. As her other hand folded over top of mine, her clouded onyx eyes unfocused, staring blankly into my face. I watched, with some amount of difficulty, as my every thought, spoken word, and memory played out in her mind's perspective. Even I could not quite keep up.

Across her face, the various emotions coursed: Fascination, delight, confusion, pity.

"Ah," she finally said, releasing our point of contact, and her face was sad, "I see your trouble, my dear Edythe. Believe me when I say I am deeply sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," I could only mouth. There was no sound behind the words.

"You have seen very great joy and very great pain in an extremely brief amount of time," she observed.

So softly I barely heard them, two small vampires entered the room through a door behind the three regal thrones posed on the raised platform. Two small beings, barely more than children, entered the room holding hands. I recognized them immediately as two of the strongest in the Volturi's guard: Jonathan and Alexandra. Twins, brought into the coven when their unique and powerful gifts had been discovered a millennia ago.

Jonathan was able to inflict torturous pain on whomever he willed, just by means of a gaze. Alexandra, by contrast, was able to devoid her victims of perception completely, able to paralyze them completely. I didn't know which talent, objectively, posed more fear.

I waited for it—the fear. It was a very real possibility that both of their talents may be unleashed on me, but I felt nothing.

While I'd been watching the twins' entrance, Sulpicia had quietly drifted back toward her companions.

"I'm afraid, my dear Edythe," she was saying, "That we have a problem."

"A problem?"

"What a pleasure it's been to make your acquaintance," she explained, "You are quite talented, young one, are you not? And your brother, Archie, as well." She lingered on our gifts a moment longer, and I saw the intention behind them. "What a misfortune," she continued, "To have met such an individual soul, only to bid you a final farewell so soon. You, my dear ragazza, are… Special."

"Oh, do indulge us, Sulpicia," Athenodora whined, her reedy voice high and wailing. She did not care to be left out of her sister's unspoken conversations.

"Dear sister," Sulpicia said, "Brother." She nodded at Marcus. "It seems our friend Edythe Cullen possesses quite the unique gift—an ability to read the minds of others without the benefit of physical contact."

Another low murmur sounded around the room.

Marcus, however, was not as patient with Sulpicia's stalling. "What is it she wants, Sulpicia? A place in the guard?"

"I'd be willing to offer if it were so," she replied, shaking her head as she turned sad eyes on me. "But no, my dear brother. That is not what our friend has come here to request."

Marcus tapped his toe impatiently. "What then?" he nearly snapped. He had long since grown bored of Sulpicia's childishness, her thrill, her easy distractibility.

"Oh, Edythe," Sulpicia said, "Isn't there any way we can change your mind?"

"I'm afraid not," I told her, and turned toward Marcus. "I'm here today to ask a favor—however ill-deserved. I wish to die."

Several minds in the room balked. Marcus's eyes widened.

He had never fully rectified the loss of his mate, lost long ago. But never once had it occurred to him to take such drastic measures in the face of his depression.

"You wish for… An execution?"

I did not allow my gaze to waver from his. "Yes."

There was silence for the briefest of moments, half a second.

"You see," Sulpicia interjected then, her bright tone jarringly controversial to the seriousness of the topic at hand, "Edythe has found herself in a very unusual situation, indeed." She templed her fingers together, a small smile gracing her plush lips. Excited thrill sparkled in her eyes. "Edythe has fallen for a human boy."

The buzzing whispers started anew, but Sulpicia held up a hand to halt their confused words.

"But there's more. This boy's blood called to her… A siren… il suo cantante… And yet—she resisted. More than resisted. She embraced him, loved him, committed herself to him… Tasted him."

Several faces turned toward me, shock apparent in their minds, but I did not pay them any mind.

"And it seems…" she continued, sighing heavily, "That she's lost him to the frailty of a human existence, and now, burdened immensely with her grief, she wishes to join him in the afterlife."

What a waste, Marcus thought snidely.

Fine, then, Athenedora mused, Let her die. I don't see why Sulpicia draws this out so needlessly. There are more pressing matters to attend to…

"This is why you wish to cease?" Marcus asked me, his voice thick with mysticism.

"It is."

Sulpicia was quiet for a moment, her thoughts contemplative. They revolved strongly around Archie and myself, our talents, the possibilities they would gift her if we were part of her guard. When she lifted her head and found me watching her, she smiled sheepishly, aware she'd been caught.

"Edythe," she said, pacing slowly toward me. A man swathed in a cape just a few shades lighter than her own, clung to her cape, his mind totally fixated on Sulpicia, and Sulpicia alone. Her personal bodyguard, I assumed. "Tell me more about your brother. Archibald, is it?"

"Archie," I corrected her, in as level a tone as I could manage. Yes, she was interested in my gift and what it could do for her, but she'd never encountered a psychic in all her existence, and Archie's talent fascinated her. The selfish greed was apparent in her mind. "With all due respect, you've read in my mind all the knowledge I have on him."

I thought I saw her eyes narrow, just briefly. Disapproval flickered in her mind. She didn't like that I wasn't playing along with her game.

"He sees the future, does he not?"

"He does."

Again, the guard's interest swelled.

"Hmm… There is one thing I do not understand," she admitted. "Your brother has seen you and your deceased mate together in the future, has he not?" She didn't wait for my answer. "How can that be, if he's already been lost?"

"Archie's visions are not set in stone. They're based on decision-making. What he sees happening does not always come to fruition."

I noted, with a hint of alarm, the thoughts coursing through Athenodora's mind. She was concerned with the size Carine's coven had grown to, worried that the numbers would pose a threat.

Anxiety quaked, very faintly, in my core. This isn't about them, I begged her silently, They've done no wrong.

Sulpicia sighed. "Your request is… Unexpected, Edythe, and, in likeness, unprecedented. It is a large decision to make. Would you mind, very much, if I discussed my options with my companions?" She gestured toward Marcus and Athenodora.

"Of course." I bowed my head just slightly. "If it's not too much to ask, however, I am a tad short on time. If you could come to your conclusions with as much haste as possible…"

Sulpicia giggled softly, a giddy sound. "Yes, yes," she said, "Of course. If you return after sunset, that would give us enough time, I think. Didymus?" She turned to the vampire who'd escorted me in. "Please escort Edythe to the city gates, and wait there with her for word. We'll send Fern for you when our decision has been made."

Didymus bowed her head. "Of course, Master."

Fern turned her attentions on me, and I noted the sudden strange focus of myself in her mind. It was as if she had me pegged on some other level, a footnote of some sort. I didn't pay this much mind, attributing it to her determination to please her Master.

She was tall and built sturdily, woven through with firm, prominent muscle. She would have reminded me of Eleanor if not for her stoic expression.

I left the room behind Didymus, and awaited my verdict.

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A/N: If you have a free minute, I'd love to know what you thought—and what you think of future titles! Love you all, and as always, I appreciate your support, reviews, patience and favorites/follows so much! See you next time!