Oh-kay! FINALLY the part I was very madly looking forward to, as I'm sure all you readers were, too. Small chapter, but I promise to throw your way some mountain-sized ones hereafter... Enjoy!

BOOK II

Dawn

I shall see Him with these eyes,
Him whom I shall surely know;
Not another shall I rise,
With His love this heart shall glow;
Only there shall disappear
Weakness in and round me here.

-Louisa Henrietta

Cold. The second I stepped off the edge of the cliff, the wind was the first thing I felt against my face. I welcomed its cool, soothing feeling on my skin, brushing my tears away, and clearing my head of all the pain. It was wonderful, exhilarating. I forgot everything, who I was, where I was, why was I seemingly in the eye of a vast and terrible storm… everything. There was pure oblivion in my head, and with that oblivion came bliss. The wind had carried away poor, unfortunate Esme Platt Evenson to the heavens, leaving behind the shell that would live a vastly new life. I was at that moment only a shell, calm and empty but at peace.

Then came the pain. The intensity of it shocked me so much that I felt some strange, thudding part of me leap. I tried to find a word to describe what that thudding part was. I found the word 'heart' floating in the vast emptiness of my mind, and that seemed to suit the strange organ nicely. Yes, my heart leaped. By then, I was feeling more than one kind of pain, pain that was encroaching on my sense of peace and calmness. I struggled to find the right words to explain to myself what was happening. The first pain was, I decided, from the shoulder. Yes, the shoulder, that's right. Then it was my hand- the left hand. Hmmm. Then a bigger, larger pain attacked my nameless body. The pain actually incapacitated me from finding the right words for a moment. Then, uneasily feeling my heart thud faster, I searched for the word with a sense of urgency I didn't understand. Leg- leg. That was my leg- the left one, again. Again? Slowly, through the fog that filled my vision, I saw a man- tall, dapper, golden-haired, golden eyed.

And a name floated out of the mists in my mind. I clutched at it desperately, suddenly afraid of the loneliness, of the ignorance. Carlisle Cullen.

I clasped the name close to me, savoured it, heard it whispering through my ears, tasted it on my tongue, felt it engulfing me with a sheath of warmth… It was a name that kept me anchored, kept me sane. I liked it very much.

Carlisle Cullen. I kept it near me, let it surround me like a chant, protecting me. Carlisle Cullen. Carlisle Cullen. On and on.

Then a jarring pain hit me, stronger and more piercing than all the others. I knew it was my head that was hurting even as the pain hit me. In a sudden, frightening rush, all the thoughts, feelings, and memories I'd ever had flew past me with a sickening speed, and then blackness enveloped me.

When the blackness receded it was as though it had never been there in the first place. My train of thought continued as it had been left, still contemplating the pain in my head, still remembering the cliff and the wind… Then it all slipped out of my grasp again, for there still was pain. And this pain was, in short, the mighty father of all pains.

Firstly, it was everywhere. I didn't need to wonder where I was hurt, where the pain originated, it just was everywhere. Omnipotent. Ubiquitous. Ever-present. Foolishly, several other synonyms from my grammar textbook quickly passed through my mind, stressing on the fact that, yes, it hurt everywhere.

Secondly and more importantly, it was intense. And 'intense' was an understatement. It was like there was fire burning through every single tissue of my body, like it was ripping them apart and searing them back together. It burned like hell.

And so, of course, I thought I was in hell. I still felt too weighed down to actually scream. I think I hadn't yet realised that I could scream. All I did was beg, pray, and hope that the pain would atleast reduce in its intensity, if not go away completely.

No such luck. I tried to remember all the happy things in my life, trying to anesthetize the burn. No use. Then I tried to remember all the bad things I'd been through- the losses of my baby angels, Edmund and Edward. I tried to drown this burning pain by the anguish I had suffered. I concentrated on them so hard, for a moment, I thought they really were still alive, right in front of me. But the pain didn't abate. On the contrary, it actually increased, the anguish adding to the burn.

Great.

I quickly relapsed into thinking my happy thoughts. The time I'd spent with Edward came to my mind, but I couldn't think about him too much, for each memory was laced with the anguish of his loss. So I quickly went back to my life preserver, the standard golden thought that always somehow kept me afloat through the worst.

Carlisle Cullen.

And after that I thought of nothing else, repeating his name in my head like a pagan chant, again and again, the sound of his name forming walls of comfort around me. The pain still burned more than ever, but my capacity seemed to have been suddenly increased, for hand-in-hand with the pain, I could feel the calm happiness that came with his name.

This duality of emotions disconcerted me, and that was the moment I discovered that I still had a mouth, a tongue and some vocal chords in perfectly working condition.

Then I began to scream.

I don't know for how long I screamed. Time had begun to blur, though my mind remained sharp, recognising and remembering every flare of the burning pain in my body. My throat would have gone hoarse and noiseless had there already not been the pain there. But it went on and on. Endlessly, it seemed. I couldn't even hear my own screams at first.

And then, as though my ears had finally got themselves habituated to the pain, I began to hear voices over my screams.

"She'll be fine." This new voice astounded me with its musical quality, its beauty. It seemed to come from a young man. I wondered what he looked like.

This young man seemed to be having a monologue with himself. It was bizarre- he was answering another person, it seemed, with perfect normalcy, yet I couldn't hear anyone else speak.

The next moment, a strange, hoarse screech attracted my attention. With a shock, I realised it was me screaming.

"She'll be fine," the musical voice repeated, apparently stressing even more.

Fine? Fine?- I wanted to scream. I was being burned alive here, and he thought I'd be fine? I tried to say so, but it was impossible, all my vocal chords were busy at the moment. In any case, it was strangely hard to stay angry with the man with the musical voice. Bizarre.

"She's screaming- so much." That voice. It was like the sound had never left my ears in ten years. His voice, though familiar, sounded so different. Clearer, purer. But with a tone of despair and agony I had never heard in it. And I felt despair in turn, feeling for him.

"She's screaming, Carlisle, that alone should give you hope. Remember what you told me." Carlisle. It was him. Oh, it was him, him! But what was he doing here, why that despair? What was an angel doing here down in the fires of hell?

There was a moment's silence when he should have answered, then the other man said, "No, Carlisle. Relax. You have enough experience from all your years of existence. Nothing is wrong. She'll be fine."

It was like a chant again, but the young man was saying it for Carlisle's sake. "She'll be fine." A chant for Carlisle. My mind lingered over his first name, suddenly sounding so different, so out of context. I had never used just his first name before, perhaps keeping in mind the age gap between us, or because it had always been like that, felt right for an angel, ephemerally present in my life. But just 'Carlisle'… well, that sounded- nicer. Made him seem more tangible, attainable, familiar.

Meanwhile, my body continued to burn incessantly. I found that I could listen quite clearly; somewhere, I could hear a watch ticking. A pocket-watch, I decided. So I began to keep track of time as I burned. Every second I counted in my mind, even as I searched for more information from my surroundings, more words from his mouth, but in vain.

I could nevertheless sense someone next to me all the time, constantly breathing in and out. I could hear no signs of movement from that person, not even hear his heart beat, but he stayed next to me all through. I don't know how, but suddenly, I could think several things at once. I could count the seconds as they passed. I could count my mystery companion's breaths simultaneously, without mixing up the two numbers. I could remember, though through a dull haze, every bit of Carlisle Cullen I'd seen ten years ago. I could hear birds trilling distantly, the wind blowing, some soft material wafting in it. And I could still feel the burn, every prick and flare of it in increasing detail.

Time passed. After each hour, I started over with the seconds. I counted eight hours.

Then I heard the other musical voice again. "Carlisle, you should go-"

"No." My angel's answer was unmistakeable in its finality. I heard the other man leave the room, his steps pattering lightly on a wooden floor with astonishing speed, though I could distinguish between each one. And another part of my mind began asking questions. Everything felt so strange, so unreal. The pain, the supernormal efficiency of my mind and senses, the speed in the unknown's movement, the very presence of Carlisle- so many questions.

My ever-counting mind told me that nine more hours had passed. I felt a feeling of being slowly woken, for something had changed. The pain was reducing.

I acknowledged this change with so much shock that I tried moving my muscles, and ended up letting a terrible twisted spasm run through my body. The regular breathing next to me came to an abrupt halt. "Esme?"-he murmured.

The pure pleasure in hearing him say my name was drowned in the fact that all was, in fact, not well.

For one thing, my throat still hurt. Terribly. It was still burning just as ever, but now there was another feeling mingled into it, a feeling of thirst. Parched, dry, and burning, I doubted that there was any desert in the entire world that was as dry as my throat. It made me horribly uncomfortable. I had to sate it. I tried to squirm again, but my muscles, unused for a long time, twisted up into another spasm.

I heard a chair being pushed back very close by my side, a sound of whooshing air as though someone had suddenly stood up.

And then I noticed that my heart had started to heat up. Unbelievably more than it already was, my heart was burning, getting hotter and hotter, beating faster and faster. I felt someone hold my wrist gently, but the gentleness was lost in the increasing burning in my throat and my heart, the latter exceeding the other exponentially in seconds. My hoarse voice melded itself into another scream. This was insane, horrible. How much more could I take? How much more did I have to suffer?

Then I heard several loud leathery 'snaps' as I felt my body begin to thrash, though I only acknowledged that fact numbly. I was more occupied with my burning heart.

"Edward!"-I heard him call out. The implications of that name were lost in the supreme pain radiating from my chest.

I felt strong stone-like restraints curve themselves across my torso and my knees, keeping my trashing body in place. I began to scream again, though I'd never realised I had stopped. My heart was beating more and more rapidly, the frequency increasing so much that I was reminded of the steam engines of the trains. "Stop it!"-I tried to scream, but only got out a wordless howl. Hearts shouldn't be beating like a mechanical contraption. Someone had to save my heart. Save it or I'd die!

But no one was doing anything. The hard restraints remained firm around my body, and my heartbeat continued to speed up. This would surely end in disaster, I felt my heart would soon explode from all the heat and the overtime beating. Finally, thrumming at a speed of a whirring mechanical drill, it happened- the finale. After a quarter-second's pause, my heart gave its last thudding beat, almost in defiance, and then lay silent forever.

My screams cut off abruptly, and there were several long seconds of silence. Suddenly, my legs weren't restrained anymore, and I twitched my toes experimentally. Slowly, hesitantly, I found and opened my eyes.

And mere inches away I saw a face, golden and beautiful, unchanged in all those many years. The face of my dreams, of my God, of the centre of my universe. A face that brought so much light into my sight that I felt I'd be blinded by it.

It was no longer Night in my life. The Sun had risen, and it would shine for evermore.