AUDEAMUS

Chapter 35

Ashes and dust settled over the center of Hayes, particles raining down from the blue sky as the sun shone brilliantly above. A gentle summer's day beckoned the wary townspeople. It was a stark contrast to the scene that had taken place in the square below.

People, wounded or dead, dotted the square. Some took their last breaths as their lives ebbed away. However, many were those who rose from the ground, many were those who cried out for help in the warmth of a summer's day. A scent of metal and gunpowder was overpowered by the fresh summer breeze swirling across the square.

Bella walked through the rubble left from the explosion by the garrison, saw the devastation, saw the people crying from loss or happiness. She saw the blood, the wounded.

It was over.

Bella's eyes scoured the square for familiar faces, searching for her friends, fearing they had fallen. She spotted Jacob and Jonah helping Billy Black sit next to The Laughing Goose. Simmons harshly coughed as he blindly reached out for a help to lift him off the ground. Lucy, with a big and bloodied bandage tied around her shoulder, rushed to him. Thompson was directing lancers still loyal to him and the Crown, those not bought by Wilson and Forster. The lancers searched through the sea of bodies, trying to find anyone who had survived. They had prepared carts, starting to clear away the deceased.

Her eyes found the still body of Captain Forster, halfway through the blown entry into the garrison. Bella stopped for a short while, looking at the dead man, trying to comprehend that he was no more. She guiltily felt relief at his passing, her eyebrows knitting together that his actions should have caused such a sentiment. If one was gladdened by another person's death, that truly had to have been a horrible person.

She eventually walked past him, her stained and wet skirts dragging over the body as she left Forster behind, choosing to give him not one more second of her attention.

Little by little, the town came alive as people rushed out from the locked rooms of the garrison or back from their posts scattered throughout the town, helping those who had been wounded in battle. As minutes passed, Bella was comforted seeing the wounded tended to, the food and blankets passed around.

The first hour after the mercenaries had surrendered had been the most chaotic. But, in that chaos, Billy Black had stepped up and taken charge. He had organized the remaining lancers together with some still able men to clear the square. Others had been tasked with finding wounded men or women that needed tending to. Little by little, they settled into their work. Lucy's kitchen worked harder than it ever had before, preparing food to feed all within Hayes. The streets were scoured for more survivors or bodies, carts driving to the outskirts of town where some were preparing mass graves for the dead mercenaries. Those who were from Hayes and had perished would receive a more personal burial from Friar Blackwater.

After a few hours had passed, Bella was sitting in stunned silence with Jonah when she saw her mother make her way through the now dried blood on the streets. When she spotted her daughter, Renee rushed to her with arms wide, tears streaming down her face, relieved to find her daughter alive. Bella ran into the warm embrace of Renée Swan as she embraced her crying.

Jacob sat down next to Jonah, taking in the scene, witnessing the strength of the people of Hayes, of the Cadherrians. Simple townsfolk and farmers had stood up to mercenaries and trained soldiers to fight for their voices, for their lives and families. He had never seen its equal before and it profoundly touched him.

"This is Hayes, Jonah. This is Cadherra," his rattled voice whispered to his left. Jacob Black was still removing the dirt and sweat from the battle, some streaks of blood trailing down his face. He turned, his black eyes locked on the other's. "Whatever you did for Forster, you helped free us from him." His heavy hand rested on Jonah's shoulder. "Thank you."

Jonah's lips trembled into a faint smile as he looked away, his eyes growing cloudy. He quickly wiped the tears away and nodded, not trusting his voice.

As the minutes progressed, more families found each other. Charles Swan emerged from a side street, his hair in his eyes, his skin pale, his suit completely torn asunder. Some cuts crossed his body, but he appeared otherwise unharmed. Renée and Bella embraced him as a moment of silence passed between them.

Alice stepped into the embrace of her husband, as did Rosalie—who couldn't hold back the tears of worry any more. Her arm had been bandaged after the bullet that had grazed her. Esmeralda and Carlisle spoke profoundly in low voices.

Bella Swan sat surrounded by her family and the family of her fiancé without a trace of Edward. No one had seen Cullen since beyond the wall. She searched for another face in the square, finding Willard Athar's to be gone as well.

The square was now nearly full with people from all corners of Hayes, there to celebrate the bittersweet moment of having rid the town of its tyrants. Wilson was still in their possession; they had the evidence of what he had tried to do against them in the form of the captured mercenaries. Many of the mercenaries had scattered to different points during the battle. But, now, a total of 243 men were securely stored away in the cells of the garrison. Thompson was quite proud as he announced the number.

Wilson wiped away the sweat running down his temples as he paced within the room, not knowing what had transpired. He had simply heard Jacob order the mercenaries to surrender in a loud and commanding voice. Scarcely a few minutes had passed since then.

The wood creaked under his weight. The top of the tavern was entirely deserted, the staff now caring for the wounded and feeding the rest of the town.

Wilson knew all was lost, but he was still comforted by the fact that he had the letter — he could still blackmail the King. His Majesty wouldn't harm a hair on his head as long as he believed that Wilson could reveal the secret of his family.

The handle to the door turned and Willard Athar stepped in, locking the door behind him and settling on one of the made beds. He did not speak as he glared at Wilson — so much hatred stemming from the otherwise polished gentleman. Wilson found it most unbecoming of him.

"It is not over for me and you know it, Athar," he said to him, reminding him of his own importance.

Athar's white shirt, which had been so carefully pressed and starched, had worn out during the night, wrinkled, soot and mud now ingrained into the fabric. The man's gray-green eyes spoke of the untold horror they had witnessed. Yet, something else emerged from them, a settling peace that that same horror had finally passed. Wilson's words did not seem to unnerve Athar as they had before the battle, as if new information had served to calm him.

He took a chair and sat before Wilson. The latter noticed another look in Athar's eyes, as if he knew something Wilson didn't. Athar appeared to be waiting for someone, the minutes ticking by, the glow of the sun stark as it penetrated the thick window curtains.

Suddenly a sound of sliding wood alerted Wilson, causing him to turn and look to see what it was.

A dark shadow slipped through the window with great agility, closing the window behind him and drawing the curtains once more.

Edward Cullen's clothes were torn, some small cuts visible through the ripped fabric. Mud caked under his boots; some blood had splattered across his leather mask that he had wiped off quickly. Athar handed the masked man a handkerchief and a pitcher of water that had been stored for Wilson at the back of the room.

"You should not be seen as another killer in this battle, Cullen," he murmured, urging Edward to clean himself. Without a word, Cullen took the pitcher and handkerchief, wiping the exposed lower part of his face. He wiped the upper part of his chest and torso as well as around the exposed cuts.

"Forster is dead," he said after a momentary silence, the room stilling just like the town outside. He did not glance at Wilson; he didn't have to. A look passed between the masked man and Athar. They now knew what needed to be done. Before having entered Wilson's room, they had spoken for a brief moment, settling on a new strategy.

"I hold the letter, and if you harm me —"

"How many men will die, Wilson, before you accept the situation in which you find yourself?" Cullen asked, dark eyes staring at the sturdy wall ahead almost as if mesmerized by the white paint.

"The evidence you hold against me is not enough. Under a true and just court of law, I will not be held accountable!" Wilson spat. "I promise to leave Hayes and never return, but you cannot end me —"

"There is no crueler tyranny than that which is perpetuated under the shield of law and in the name of justice," Edward growled. "Which is what you have been doing all along." He clenched his fists. "Corrupting good men like Collins, killing even greater men like Ridge, and leaving men like Newton without a father. That will be your legacy, Wilson, nothing more."

Athar shuddered at the intensity in Edward's voice. It was almost as if the ghost of Edward Cullen truly spoke through him.

Wilson now stood up despite himself. "His Majesty will not let anything happen to me!" He turned to Athar. "Neither will your brother."

Cullen slowly walked up to Wilson. "You told Forster of that letter," Cullen stated.

In any other circumstance, had Wilson possessed a clear mind and ample time to think, he would have realized Cullen was fishing for information. However, the flustered and disgraced mayor fought hard to find his footing in the new situation in which he now found himself. Every word he uttered could either save or damn him. Thus, he spoke without truly thinking, not knowing it would doom him.

"No! Of course not, he could never have kept such a thing for himself! He would have babbled about it for everyone to hear and I would have lost my hold over the King," Wilson spat.

Edward crossed his arms as an amused smirk emerged on his face. "Well, he knew of it," the masked man said. "Forster knew of the importance of that letter."

Now Wilson paled. Surely that couldn't be! He hadn't shared its contents with the captain, only what he was using it for.

Athar noted the shift in Wilson's bearing just as much as Edward did.

"He was more cooperative than you have been," Edward continued in a casual manner.

A short pause followed in which the mayor was given time to process Edward's words. "You lie," Wilson growled.

"Do I look like I'm lying?" the other spat back. "He managed to find it, read it and store it away again." The gleeful expression in Cullen's lips had the mayor fighting hard for each breath as the walls closed in on him. He understood that the game was over.

"Forster was not the brave man I had expected him to be as he faced his death. Trampled by horses, I believe?" Cullen turned to Athar to ask. The other simply nodded, fighting hard to hold a neutral expression on his face, amazed at Edward's ability to convince Wilson. "We only had to poke at a few broken bones and he spilled everything…the contents of the letter, its location, who truly knew of it, everything," Cullen blinked.

Wilson gulped, then licked his lips. "...and where…where is it?"

"Burned," the masked man stated nonchalantly.

"Quite burned," Athar joined in, peering down at Wilson as the mayor removed his waistcoat and cravat.

His chubby face paled as he bought Edward's blatant lie. "That bastard!" Wilson howled in an indignant scream, thinking he had been betrayed by his ally. "He must have heard it from Lord Newton the night we…he…" he stopped himself abruptly and looked sheepishly at the two men.

"That is why you killed Newton," Edward echoed. This was new information. Maybe Newton was the one who had held the letter in safe keeping. He couldn't ask Wilson if there were more who knew of the letter in fear of dismantling the lie he had just told him. However, Edward suspected there were no more, or Wilson would have surely told him about them. The mayor was in no state to think clearly.

A grin started splitting Edward's face in half. "I had half a mind to turn you over to the people of Hayes, for everything you have done to them." He pointed a thumb Athar's way. "However, Sir Athar had a much better idea, Wilson," the masked man blinked as he leaned forward.

Edward turned to Athar. "Do you still agree on this decision?" he asked. "There is no turning back."

Athar remembered all the bodies that had laid scattered outside. He turned to look at Wilson with disgust. "I daresay you have the blessing of the government — even the King, should he know of this."

Cullen nodded slowly, then extracted a knife from his boot. He turned to Wilson. "I disarm you of your weapon, Wilson," he growled and then rushed forth to the chubby mayor. Athar, who was not accustomed to such gruesome horror turned as Edward swiftly cut out Lionel Wilson's tongue, thus rendering him mute. He held it in his hand, staring at it, the action holding some sort of poetic justice.

"You will live, Wilson, to see yourself fall from grace. Death would be too kind for you," Edward said. Wilson clawed at his mouth in utter pain, his eyes wide in horror as he realized what had been done.

The masked man was not yet finished. There was still one thing he wished to do to the disgraced mayor. He cast the knife aside and unmasked, letting his true face show, taking in the even wider eyes as they stared in confusion.

"Never take someone for granted," Edward Masen said, letting fresh air hit his features. "Like you did Forster…like you did me," he growled before hiding his face once more behind the mask—

But Edward Cullen was not yet done.

The two men left Wilson to ponder his fate, walking into another room to discuss what would come next.

Athar ran shaking fingers through his hair. "Do you really think only he and Forster knew about the letter?" he asked. "We are still none the wiser about where it is. I believe we never will be."

"Did you discern his reaction? I do not believe he has hidden it with anyone, merely a place he himself knew to access — and Forster — who is gone."

"We cannot be certain," Athar said.

"No, we cannot," Edward agreed. "But would it be so bad?" he wondered, "for William Fell's secret to be known? He dictated the letter himself, Wilson said so. He would want it to be known at least at one point in his life."

"His Majesty is not ready for that secret to be revealed, that must be why he sent me to retrieve this letter, to burn it or hide it forever."

Edward walked up to him. "Only time will tell, my friend. We could try to look for it in Adelton Hall. But try explaining to young Lord Newton why we would wish access to his castle without giving away the reason," Edward argued. He sighed. "It appears the secret will remain…for now."

Athar noticed him frowning behind the mask. "It displeases you."

"History taught us that both Cullen and William were extraordinary men who did much for us and our country. Wilson wanted to twist our perception of him, but the truth—I believe—is much more than we give it credit for. We can never truly know what happened all those centuries ago. But I do not believe William played for the throne as Wilson said. Enough time has passed, I believe Angloa is ready for this…" he trailed off. "After the unrest of revolution settles."

A hand rested on his shoulder as Athar's eyes locked on his. "Not yet, my friend. It isn't our secret to reveal. It never was."

Edward's lips pressed together, knowing both he and Athar would take the secret to their graves, unless the King decided otherwise, or Wilson truly had left the letter with someone he trusted.

"It should be," he lamented.

Athar did not answer him. He had no answer to give. His personal feelings in all of this were not important. His family had served the Fells for generations. If the King wished for the secret to remain silent, then he would keep that secret.

A gust of wind swirled outside, pushing against the windows as they once more entered the next room. Wilson still lay squirming on the ground, crying over his lost tongue. Edward disappeared through the now opened window.

Athar sighed, thinking it might be a good idea to venture into the square where he had previously seen Billy Black. There was now a matter of what would follow these strange and bizarre events.

In the old square of Hayes, the townspeople gathered in the searing heat of the afternoon sun. Simmons sat under the cherry tree, his eyes distant, as if something kept passing through his mind. Many were generally quiet, most thankful it was over, others celebrating the end of the tyranny of Forster and Wilson. A few had dried tears on their cheeks after having lost someone during the battle. Yet, despite the vast number of mercenaries Forster and Wilson had thrown their way—because they had prepared—the death toll was low within Hayes. Out of the hundreds who had fought, only sixty-one had perished. Among those, seven innocent civilians had lost their lives as the mercenaries breached the gate and forced the portcullis open. Seven lives were enough to weigh heavy on Jacob's mind and he knew he would bear their loss for the rest of his life.

The warmth of the sun did him good, however. He closed his eyes as he turned his now cleaned face to be kissed by the rays of the sun. Some townspeople sat on the steps of the various houses encircling the square and Athar and Billy were in a deep discussion.

Suddenly, Wilson was dragged from the tavern by brute force and dragged through the streets. Hayes' citizens grew heated at the mere sight of him. Most looked at the man in disgust. Some hurled insults his way. Wilson was placed at the top of the steps by the entry to the Town Hall for all to see. Michael Newton stood up with the others. Now, as Lord Newton, Count of Cadherra after the death of his father, he too was an important presence in the town.

Athar, backed by Sgt. Thompson and a few other loyal lancers, stepped forth.

"Kill him!" someone growled from the vast crowd.

"Nah, 'ave 'im tortured first ya daft bastard! Tis more than 'e deserves!" a woman shouted coarsely and spat to the side, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt.

Athar put up a hand to silence the crowd. They listened.

"In order for His Majesty to not send another army here due to a misunderstanding, I am obliged to take Lionel Wilson with me to Safeira, together with Lord Newton. The evidence that has been gathered against this man, accompanied by Lord Newton's testimony, is enough to sentence him a hundred times over."

"He'll just coerce 'em in Safeira, twist the words as he did back at 'is estate yesterday," another voice sounded.

"I believe he will find it difficult to speak, seeing as he does not have a tongue," Michael intercepted dryly, not able to help a grin forming on his lips. "Courtesy of Cullen, I believe."

The laugh extended as a loud cheer erupted. People looked around, curious to find the man of which so much had been spoken. Yet, he was not there.

Joe shook his head, supported by Robert as he had taken a shot to the leg. Still, he would not be bedbound now when so much was still to be decided.

"We fought for our freedom from Forster and Wilson, but now we stand facing a bigger threat than before — not knowing what will come next, who will be sent next to take charge of our town," Robert said heatedly.

"I'll not be livin' under another Wilson," Joe growled. "Hayes sacrificed much, we've lost people, some are wounded fer life. We need an answer of what'll happen now!"

Athar swallowed hard. It was an answer he was not able to provide. Then, a presence neared him as Billy slowly stepped forward, supporting himself on his crutch, walking calmly up the steps and turning to the sea of people.

The town settled as he took center stage. "We fought because we had no other choice. But we did not fight for a simple ideal, to change the structure of our country or our government — to depose the King or to execute all aristocrats," he said. His words evoked a reminder of the terror that had taken place on the streets of Paris.

"We fought," Billy continued, "because two greedy and power hungry men disregarded every notion of decency, filled their souls not with love and friendship but with power, greed and lust. I am not saying there are not more men like them — that more men like that will not come to Hayes. But I am putting into perspective what we stood up against. I never spoke out against His Majesty or Safeira. I spoke out against Forster and Wilson. My friends, people of Hayes, if you insist on this path that I see you heading down, let it be known that what Athar says is true. There will come an army, larger and more organized than Wilson's hired mercenaries. And they will silence us like they silenced the towns up north."

Joe shook his head. "And the next man they send? The next mayor? Will he turn against us as Wilson did? Will he not be corrupted as well? How can we ever trust someone comin' from Safeira or Wessport ever again?" he asked, looking at Athar. "I mean no disrespect against ya or yer good name sir, but we've suffered enough. We'll not hand over our hard-earned freedom to another man chosen by the noblemen of Cadherra or Safeira again!"

Many shouted in agreement.

Suddenly hushed whispers spread across the space. Necks stretched to the east as they spotted a lone rider entering as the dust settled further. The dark outline of a shadow broke through the haze together with the stark sun.

Edward Cullen in the flesh rode into the square among gasping people and glittering eyes. They stared at their liberator, at the man who had started it all.

Cullen dismounted and walked up the stairs to the Town Hall. There was no doubt that he had silently been listening to the whole exchange from a distance, not wishing to interrupt or disturb it until this moment.

Many pushed forward just to catch a glimpse of the myth. Much had been speculated about the man in the mask, much had been guessed. But here he stood before them all, the statue that had been built centuries ago to commemorate him on the other side of the square. Larger than life he was. Fresh out of battle.

Bella, standing in the shadow of the cherry tree, next to the looming statue, stared at him and grew warm at the sight of him. She sensed a presence past her shoulder and glanced back, catching Carlisle Masen's wide golden eyes, unshed tears threatening to fall as he saw his son, truly saw who he was and what he had done. Pride unlike Bella had ever seen before in Carlisle made her heart soar even more.

Edward walked up to Jacob and watched his ally for a moment. "What say you, Black?"

"Joe and Robert have spoken well, Hayes and Cadherra will not have a tyrant," Jacob growled. "Men like Wilson who abused his power, who used us as he pleased, have no place here."

Michael Newton nodded. "Although I have not been among you for a long time, having hidden from Wilson and Forster, I…agree." His words astonished all. In the back of the crowd, Edward was certain he could hear the delighted exclamations of Jessica Stanley. He fought hard not to roll his eyes.

Willard turned to them. "It is true that the provincial council of Cadherra will elect a new mayor for Hayes after I have explained everything in Safeira." He paused, choosing his next few words wisely.

"I cannot promise you what type of man the council will send. I agree, reformations within the parliament and government have needed to be made for some time. I believe you — the people of Hayes — have set that in motion. But if you will not accept whoever the council sends..." Willard Athar trailed off and took in the waiting faces. He saw hardened expressions, people with hope in their eyes, people who were tired, people who'd had enough. "Then choose your own."

At first there was stunned silence as all processed his words.

Lucy let out a loud snort. "Wha', like 'em yanks 'cross the pond?"

"In the legal treatise of 1572 published under King Edmund Fell, a town may choose its representant by popular vote if the individual holds more than seventy percent of the county's approval. Furthermore, if that is the case, that the representant is so chosen by the people, it overrules whatever say the provincial council has in that matter. It would be further backed were the Lord of the county to approve it in parliament. Only the King himself may speak out against such a decision. Thus, a representant may claim the office of mayor," Willard said.

"The provincial council would never recognize a law that is more than two hundred years old," Jacob argued.

"That argument falls short when the fact that most of the executions that are issued in this day and age follow laws and regulations that are much older than what I have just mentioned," Athar defended. He turned to the people of Hayes. Edward saw the kindled fire in many eyes as they started to realize that their future and the future of their children might be a bright one.

"And who would submit to such a thing? Who would represent us?" asked Lucy.

Conversations soared after her statement, some stepped forth but were quickly booed down. It would be hard to find a candidate. The masked man's eyes searched the square until he settled on the one person standing right next to him. The buzzing noise of wagging tongues faded, and it was only the two of them.

He turned to the man with certainty on his face. Many fell silent again as hawk-like eyes drifted to the man in black. Cullen came to stand before Billy Black who was still leaning on his crutch.

The masked man remained silent; his shrouded eyes glinted as a small tug of his lip suggested what he was thinking. Billy shook his head.

"Me? No, no, I have no larger concept of politics, of the law…I—"

"You stood up against Forster just down the street from here. You spoke out against the raised taxes when you knew it would starve families, when you knew people hadn't enough money for even a piece of bread." He paused. "You did so without a mask, my friend."

Billy grew flustered as he shook his head vigorously. "But you had a more severe impact, you fought Forster when I couldn't. My actions almost got me killed—"

"You started this rebellion, Billy. You took the first step, I followed." Edward smiled. "And I think you would have the people's best interest at heart. You would not be blinded by lust for power and wealth because you have a personal connection to this town, you are honorable – a good man, a just man. You have taken it upon yourself over and over to defend this town despite what has been thrown at it. You never ran away Billy, even when the chance was presented to you…you stood your ground. Those are the qualities of a true leader."

"Hear, hear!" some men shouted. More joined in.

Billy watched as the crowd cheered for him, how they applauded him. They had decided, they had chosen him. Michael Newton walked up to him. "You have my support, sir, if you wish it."

"Billy Black," Willard Athar said with a crooked smile breaking through his otherwise arrogant and proud exterior. "When I am done in Safeira, I shall return and help you in matters of politics if you wish to take this post."

Billy's mouth opened and closed several times as he frowned. "But I…" He was at a loss for words. "How could I—"

"With the same gusto as you always have, father," Jacob encouraged. "We have to start somewhere."

His compressed lips and stark eyes softened. Billy chuckled as he sheepishly looked at the inhabitants of Hayes.

Bella, watching from a distance, hoped desperately that he would accept.

Billy turned to the crowd. "We will work together, to turn Hayes into what it should always have been!" he told them.

Hope. Hope and a sense of ease radiated through the people of Hayes. It wasn't the final solution, but it was a step in the right direction. The man who had started their small revolution would continue it. Cullen was right, they needed Billy Black.

The ghost of Raven's Grove had done his share.

Slowly, the man in black drifted toward his horse as the conversation resounded across the square. Awaiting faces now looked to the future with renewed fervor.

He seated his mount, suddenly catching a glimpse of her among the crowd.

"Wait!" Billy said as he hurried to the end of the step.

Edward turned his stallion around, the only mounted man in the entire square, appearing large as life.

Perhaps, some thought, he was a man of flesh and blood after all, a reincarnation of the real Edward Cullen. The statue by which Mr. Simmons sat, however, stood — an echo from the past. Whatever the masked man was, he had saved them; he had fought, bled and sacrificed for them as much as Billy had. They all knew it, they all felt it in their hearts.

Billy extended his right hand as if motioning to the town. "The battle is over, Wilson is defeated, there is no threat here anymore," he said. "You…you do not have to hide yourself from us anymore, sir."

Edward couldn't help himself as he stared at the pommel of his saddle and softly chuckled. Hayes awaited in anticipation for his unmasking.

He felt as if the heavens were staring down on him harshly, as if the true Cullen was there next to him in spirit. Edward already knew what he had to do...he had for a long time. He had never done this for glory, for honor. He had stepped forward because no one else would.

His emerald eyes found Athar's, an unspoken truth — a truth only they knew — passed between them.

"It isn't my secret to reveal," the man in black said. It was short, simple. "It never was."

He gave a hasty nod to Billy, Jacob and Michael. Then he turned his stallion around, and a path opened through the throng. Edward nudged his horse forward, slowly passing by the stunned spectators. They watched the black beast calmly make its way to the edge of the square until it came to a halt by the blooming cherry tree. He looked to the horizon for a long moment, until finally turning to her.

The gnarly branches of the tree threw soft shadows over her form, flecks of sunlight dancing across her exposed skin. The wind picked up her dress and it swirled about her. A moment of silent solace surrounded the two. Edward Cullen gave a nod of acknowledgment to Isabella Swan. She let herself smile and then gave a deep curtsy back. The unspoken bond between their two namesakes hung heavily in the air as the man in black suddenly urged his stallion into a canter, quickly making for the edge of the square.

Some followed him and saw him head for the gates, riding past them and onto the fields. In the meadow, becoming one with his animal, reveling in the scented breeze of summer and the warmth of the sun, he understood Bella's love for the land.

Some watched as the tendrils of Raven's Grove swallowed him — likely for the last time. Her son had returned home once more for his final rest. They understood, in a sense, that they would not see him again.

Edward Cullen, it seemed, had returned to the grave from which he had risen.

A/N: I am terribly sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I am so torn... there only remains one chapter after this one and then the fic will be over. I'm happy about finishing yet another fic...but I'm sad to see the adventures of Bella and Edward to be over once again... Maybe that should be remedied...? ;)

I thank all of the people who reviewed the last chapter and am happy you liked it. I hope you have enjoyed this one as well. A special thanks to Moonwinks as always for helping me with editing this chapter! :D

Cheers,

Isabelle