Smaragdus arcanum Lunam

Cloud Sorano

2


Edward stood in the felid of swaying lavenders. The scent was heady and perfuming the air. It was early spring, but the flowers were hardy in the cool Washingtonian weather.

It had been nearly two weeks since his conversation with Alice, and he was nowhere closer to an answer to her mysterious vision. He was not sure what he wanted with Bella. She wanted to be turned to be with him, but he could not bring himself to let her. She deserved to live a full life. None of his family had choices like that. It was either death or be turned, not just on a whim—an option to live given when he was at death door from Spanish influenza.

But Bella? She was alive and nowhere close to dying. It didn't sit well with him. He sighed an unnecessary breath.

The sun was starting to dip toward the horizon. He had been standing there nearly the entire day, turning things over in his mind. The place was his favorite escape, far up in the mountain, secluded and untouched. No one but he knew where it was. Perhaps Alice if she tries to follow her vision.

He heard a loud pop behind him, and suddenly the air was full of the smell of blood. It smelled strange and did not trigger his blood-lust. His golden eyes widened as he turned immediately to find a young man swaying a few feet away from him. Blood was flowing down his front, and he groaned, falling toward the ground.

Edward was by his side within less than a second and grasping the stranger, gently helping him down. He took in the young man, noting the messy black hair, unkempt appearance, and clothing was worn, dirty, and soaked in blood from a deep gash that traveled from the right of his collarbone to his left hip. Someone must have slashed him with a weapon, the gash was wide, and blood was pouring freely. He appeared to be thinner than he should be. There was a hollowness to his cheeks and a dark circle under his eyes.

But his eyes! Emerald orbs that seemed to glow staring up at him, the life fading away.

It was then he felt the jolt of his heart, the pull that he waited for so long. He gasped softly, realizing who this man was—his true mate.

The mysterious man stared at him. His mouth moved slightly; it took Edward to strain his super-hearing to catch what he said. "Cedric?"

"No..." Edward replied softly. He glanced down to the gash and clamped his hand over where the blood was flowing the heaviest. "It can't be... after all this time, and you're dying."

The young man stared back at Edward and rasped, "At least... I get to look upon something so beautiful."

Edward felt like crying, but he could not. He bit back a whimper. It can't be. He finally found his mate, and he was losing him. Venoms pooled in his mouth as he stares into the emerald orbs. "I can save you! But you have to decide!" The emerald-eyed man's brows furrowed slightly. Edward continued, "I'm a vampire. I can turn you! Say 'yes,' please!"


Harry's eyes widened as he felt something slam into his chest, and he stopped running. He felt hotness spread down his torso and looked down. Then the pain hit him as he saw his chest ripped open, blood pouring out. His hands shook as he felt the wound and came away coated in garnet red liquid. Blood was gushing out with each pump of his heart.

"Harry!" He barely heard the feminine voice behind him. "Harry, we need to run!" Blood was rushing in his ears, loud as a roaring river.

How? How is it possible that he would be dying right here, in the middle of nowhere, by a snatcher's hex? His chest felt feverish hot, but his fingers and toes felt like ice. His vision swayed, and it was getting harder to breathe. The pain was terrible, but it was instant and gone.

It took tremendous effort to turn and look upon his best friend's face. "H-Her...mione..." He stuttered, hot fresh blood spilling from his lips. He could not taste it; all he felt was ice creeping in from every direction, closing in toward the burning center of his body.

Ron appeared by his side, but he could not hear beyond the thwomp-thwomp-thwomp roar in his ears. He realized it was his blood rushing toward the opening, only to coat his hands more.

He wanted to laugh at the irony when he realized it. He was dying. He thought he would die facing down Voldemort, with all the bravado he has. Not like this, afraid and looking upon his friends' horrified faces. Bleeding to death.

Darkness was closing in, his vision becoming tunneled. Every breath was becoming a chore. He wanted to sleep so badly, and he wanted them to go and leave him to rest. "Run... both of you."

He saw Hermione wave her wand and said something he never heard before. Beyond the throbbing hot pain of his chest, he felt the pull of magic, and he was gone from the dreary wooded area to a meadow full of lavender flowers.

The first thing that came to mind was; was it heaven? Then he realized he was still alive but barely breathing. A shadow from the corner of his eyes suddenly vanished, and he felt himself being laid down, his head into a lap. He looked up.

He wanted to gasp, but he didn't have enough breath to do so. The familiar face peered down at him, and he thought; indeed, they sent an angel to take him. An angel he knew, "Cedric?"

Cedric looked so beautiful, with bronze hair and golden eyes. He looked worried. Why was he worried? He could feel the jolt in his heart, the happiness spreading to gaze upon something so glorious.

"No..." the Cedric-lookalike said. Oh, his voice was beautiful too, musical. "It can't be... after all this time waiting, and you're dying."

Oh right... that.

Harry remembered and tried to move his hand but could not. He could not feel his limbs at all. Mentally sighing to himself, he could not reach up to touch the angel's face. "At least..." he softly said, "I get to look upon something so beautiful." It made him happy, just looking into the golden gaze.

The man above him bit his lip. Harry saw, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss that perfect lips. He gazed back up to the worried eyes.

"I can save you! But you have to decide!" Harry frowned. What was he saying? Wasn't this angel supposed to guide him into death and then take him to heaven? "I'm a vampire. I can turn you! Say 'yes', please!"

Oh. Not an angel then, but a vampire. Of course, his luck.

His eyes flickered to the side, and he could see a dark shadow materializing above them. A tall hooded figure with dark mist shrouding him, and he saw the bony hands, one clutched to a giant scythe and another reaching out to him. Death has come for him.

Then his entire life flashed before his eyes—loving coo and kiss. Green, the scream of his parents. Cold cupboard, shouting, and degrading words. Burning his hands at the stove that was too tall for him. The pain of punches from bullies. Running and appearing on a rooftop and talking to a snake in the zoo. Meeting a giant. Boat ride across the glittering black lake. Huge castle. Feast and friends. Sea of red-haired people. Warm welcomes and love. The mirror, fire, and pain. A dark tunnel, green glows. Wet and moldy smell. A bird song. Sword and fangs clashing. Hugging a giant. Black dog. Purple bus. Dementors, werewolf, violent tree. Godfather! Strange house. Friends and family. Flaming cup and dragons. Cold black lake and mermaids. Foggy maze, sphinx, and glowing cup. Cedric. Black cauldron, pain in his arm. Gray faced, red-eyed man. Fear. The golden nest. Mysterious cabinet, pale blond hair. Pink toad, pain in his hand. Black emaciated horse-like creature with wings. Blue orbs and silver masks among flashing lights. Gray noseless face. Sorrow, the pain of loss. Potion book. Blond-haired man. Halloween party and dragon balls. Sectumsempra. Pensive and blackened hand. The cave, potion, locket, and the inferis. Death Eaters. The pain of loss. Death of a mentor. Betrayal of a professor. Anger and defeat. Fire. Wedding and chaos. Camping, the pain of hunger. Loss of a friend. Silver doe and a sword at the bottom of a lake. Black mist shooting up from a locket. Flying dirgeable fruits, strange tale of Death and the three brothers.

That Death.

No. He was not ready. He frowned at the dark shrouded figure. Not yet. He still has something to do. He turned to the golden-eyed angelic vampire, "Yes."

Then he felt teeth clamp over his neck. His emerald orbs flickered to Death and glared. He will choose when it is his time, and it is not now.

The bony hand withdrew, and Death gave a single nod.

Harry gasped as he felt something burning icy hot spread from his neck. Then his wrists and ankles. Finally, right where his heart is, above the gash. Death faded away from the corner of his eyes, and he looked to meet the vampire's concerned gaze, holding his emerald eyes to the golden ones.

Thump-fwoomp-thump.

His heart was slowing down—the burn spreading in his veins, leaving icy trails.

Thump... ba-dum...

The pain eased, then he felt nothing but the sensation of floating. Darkness closed in his vision. But he held onto that golden eyes.

Ba-dum.

Then stillness and blackness came, and the last thing he saw was gold.


Edward held the man to his chest as he ran. The dense green forest was a blur around him. His house came up, and he could see Alice standing on the deck, looking concerned. A tall, handsome pale blond-haired man was beside her. Carlisle, his vampire father, had confusion and curiosity on his face. Edward came to a stop before them and glanced down to the unkempt, skinny young man in his arms. It had only been five minutes since his heart stopped. But it was strange. He did not scream or thrash about in pain when he bit the young man, filling him with venoms. But he held his eyes until his heart stopped beating.

Carlisle said nothing but gestured for Edward to bring the young man into the house. Edward gave a tiny nod and zipped into the place and the room on the second floor, prepared for the mysterious man. He laid the man onto the white hospital bed and brushed the dirty black hair aside, finally noticing the lightning bolt scar. He frowned and stepped back. The scar was hot and reddened compared to the rest of the ice-cold body. Suddenly, an ominous scream rent the air, and black smoke rose from the bolt scar, curling in the air above the body. Edward gasped in shock; he could see a face in the black mist, face contorted in anger and scream before fading away.

"What was that?" Alice squeaked in fright as she grasped onto her brother's arm.

"Where did you find him?" Carlisle softly demanded, concerned.

"I've never felt something like that…" A young man with honey-gold blond hair said as he appeared beside Alice. "It felt evil, convoluted, and twisted. In pain."

"Why does his blood smell different?" A beautiful blond-haired woman asked as she came into the door. Another woman appeared beside her, dark-haired and gentle-looking but concerned, clutching onto the blond-haired woman.

Carlisle turned to Edward, "Edward? Where did you find him?"

Edward snapped his eyes to his father. "In the mountain where I usually go. He appeared behind me out of thin air, like that. He was dying." He gestured to the man on the cot. "He…" He trailed off, unsure what to say next. His mind was in a jumble. It all had happened so fast. He saw everything in the young man's mind, memories, feelings, and a strange vision looking upon Death itself.

Another person peered over the three women and asked, "He what?"

Edward shook his head. "It's impossible… I saw-uh…" He muttered and went back to the young man's side and took the hand, holding in his own. "I saw his life flash by in his mind, and then there was something strange, as if I was looking through his eyes, another person… a figure that was in the field with us."

"Who?" the dark-haired woman asked. "Edward… you're scaring us."

He looked up to his mother, "I think it was Death. He came for him, but he then said no in his mind, not now. And permitted me to turn him."

Carlisle stepped up to the other side of the cot and inspected the young man. He pulled the shirt away to see the nasty gash, the cause of his death, closing up rapidly before their eyes. The skin was knitting together and leaving behind no scar. The once golden skin turned pale and hardened. The entire body started to fill out and became healthy-looking, muscles defined, and toned. They could see that the young man was slender but athletic built. Black hair that was matted and dull turned shiny and glossy but still messy.

"We should clean him up," Alice said as she stepped forward. "He will wake soon."

"So soon?" Carlisle asked in surprise. "Impossible. It takes three days for a person to change."

Edward shook his head. "This one is different. His blood didn't appeal to me at all."

"Same." The honey-haired young man stood at the end of the cot, gazing down at the mysterious stranger. "His clothes are soaked in it, but it doesn't do anything to me either."

Carlisle looked back down and nodded. "You're right." He stepped back and gestured to the others to do what they need to do. "Edward, come on." He left no room for the young vampire to object and walked out of the room. Edward nodded and gave the young man on the cot one last look and let go of his hand reluctantly.

He followed his father into the office then moved to stand in front of the wall to wall glass overlooking the forest behind the house.

Carlisle watched his young son, the first of his family. "Tell me what happened."

Edward sighed, a habit he still retained from his human days. "I went to my place to think about Bella and everything. I was in doubt. It wasn't until about 10 minutes ago that he appeared behind me, out of nowhere. Like magic. I think." He scoffed. It felt like forever ago, but it had only been ten minutes since this mysterious man appeared into his life. "He was standing there, all bloodied up…" he then explained what happened. "When I asked him if he wanted me to turn him. I saw the most interesting thing in his mind, his entire life."

Carlisle nodded. "That was his life flashing before his eyes. What happens when a person is dying, all of the memories come forward in rapid succession. It was theorized but never really proven. I guess it has now." He gestured to Edward and nodded for him to continue. "This Death… it's curious."

Edward nodded and turned to Carlisle. "I knew there was no one else there with us in that field, but in his mind, I could see a third person. He was looking at him, and it was as if he knew him. There was a memory in his mind, a story of three brothers?"

Carlisle frowned. "Hm. I think I know what you mean. I've come across this once before when I was staying with the Volturi." He moved to the bookshelf and searched. "A rouge vampire visited the Volturi, and I had the most interesting conversation with him. He left me a book as a gift. It was a fairytale from his people, the Wiz."

"Wiz?"

Carlisle smirked as he found a thin book and plucked it off from the shelf. It looked ancient, threadbare, and there was an odd picture on the front of a stump. "The Tale of Beedle and the Bard, and other tales." He flipped the pages until he found what he was looking for, "Ah, here it is."

Edward took the book and scanned the tale, his eyes going wide. "This is the tale I saw in his mind. But that the thing, he believed it to be real. There was a flash of him using a cloak like in this tale, a stone ring, and a wand?" He looked up, "Wiz? As in Wizard?"

Carlisle nodded. "Witches and Wizards."

"But they're not real…" Edward trailed off as he saw the look on Carlisle's face. "Right… Vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters… of course." He rubbed his face. "So that guy is a wizard?"

"From what you're telling me, it seems like it. About that Death, tell me more."

Edward handed the book back, intending to read the rest of it later. "Yeah. Well, he was standing over us and reaching out to him. It was peculiar, black cloak, no face, bony hands, scythe and all. But he was thinking in his mind, he said something that he had to do, and it was not his time yet. He literally told Death that he would choose his time, and it was not now, as if it were an order." Edward shook his head in amazement. "You don't tell Death what to do. But he backed off and nodded as if he agreed."

"Interesting…" Carlisle murmured and tapped the book he was holding in his hand. "If the tale is real… we might be looking at Master of Death himself, in the other room."

Edward's eyes widened and gestured to the wall in the direction of the other room where the mysterious man laid, "You're telling me… that guy is, was, a wizard and is a Master of Death?"

Carlisle nodded and held up the book. "When I was conversating with that vampire who gave me this book, he told me about a legend of the Deathly Hallows—each of the three items; the cloak, the stone, and the stick. Anyone who possesses the three is the Master of Death. And you saw in his memory of all three. Did he possess them?"

Edward paused as he thought, recalling the memories he saw. "He was researching on it. He owns the cloak, knows where the stone is, and guessed where the stick is. He has been in presence in all three." He looked up to Carlisle. "So, that's why he told Death off?"

Carlisle returned the book to the shelf. "If you have seen Death beside a dying person, not even in our power, we can pull the person from Death's grasp. It's too late even by then. But he allowed you to turn him and pull him away from Death."

Edward ran his hand through his unruly bronze hair. "He's my mate."

Carlisle's eyes widened, and he turned back to his son. "Mate? Are you sure? What about Bella?"

Edward looked hopeless to Carlisle. "Bella is my singer. She never was my mate. That's why I doubted it. But for him… the minute I saw his eyes, I knew it. I felt it." He clutched his shirt over where his heart was. "It was like…"

"Your entire world in their eyes." Carlisle finished and nodded.

Edward glanced to the wall where the other man laid. "Alice says he's waking up."

Carlisle shook his head in amazement. "Not even three days. It's barely thirty minutes."

They returned to the other room. Edward could see that Alice and the two other women had cleaned up the stranger, dressed him in nice dark jeans and a green shirt, and pair of black doc marten boots on his feet. The tray beside the bed were the round-rimmed glasses, a leather pouch, a broken locket, and a broken stick.

"Thank you, Alice, Esme, Rosalie." He softly said as he stepped up to the stranger on the cot. He now could see how beautiful the man was. The man was on the cusp of adulthood but still had slight baby roundness to his face, shiny black hair unruly but fitting, and smooth skin. The stranger could not be older than he was. He remembered the beautiful emerald eyes and felt sad, knowing the next time the eyes open, it would be ruby red. He reached out and carded his finger through the silky black hair. He saw that the lightning bolt scar remained while all the other scars he had seen on the man's body earlier had faded away.

The eyes opened.

Edward swallowed a gasp. They were still emerald.


That conversation between Edward and Carlisle got away from me... it just happened. So, Carlisle seemed to know more than I thought he did.