I do not own any of the characters or basic story material presented, all rights belong to Stephanie Meyer.

Story Backdrop: Everything had a beginning, if I am correct. Every story, every song, every sunrise, and every sunset. Quite awhile back, in my first throes of reading Twilight, I stumbled upon the passage in which Bella asks Edward where vampirism came from, how did it start? Her question interested me very much, and unfortunately Edward didn't give the most revealing of answers. So, I decided to come up with my own answer to that question, along with a fan fiction. My story, Genesis, involves all the characters we know and love, plus a good many of my own creation. I've altered both Bella's and Edward's ages a little, making them just a tad older(for the story's sake Edward is about 27, and Bella about 25), but other then that, everything should be in order. The story starts with our favorite couple, happy, in love, all that jazz. Edward and his family are still Vampires, while Bella remains, unhappily human. Bella works as a Marine Biologist for the Forks Aquarium, her specialty is in sharks, while Edward is an Art Curator in Port Washington, he deals with rare paintings from times past. All is well until Carlisle receives a disturbing message from the Volturi, it's a cry for help. Because, believe it or not, there are beings in this world far older then Stephanie Meyer's vampires, but the two are related, very much so. The Volturi has fallen prey to the first vampires, the origin of the species. As my little tale progresses, Bella soon learns that she too has a tie to these ancient ancestors, one that could sever her from Edward forever…..Please review, I have high hopes for this story, but if no one cares to read, I don't want to hope for nothing. I ask you to be honest with me, brutally honest.

Genesis

Chapter one: Awakening

Absolute silence detests company, loathes it with an exquisite archetype of hate. The slightest intrusion makes for a war on silence, causes it to break and fracture, so that the sound that broke it, seems tame in comparison. Silence is a chain, it is a tomb, it is a gift. Silence is what has kept the world safe for the past two thousand years, along with time and sand.

Far below the surface of the bustling city of Cairo, below even the great pyramids, is another structure. It has remained sealed and undisturbed for millennia, the deep sands of the desert hushing it, and keeping its secrets. The structure is tiny, no bigger then a master bedroom, and yet it is lavishly decorated. A good many slaves gave their life for the beauty of this small room, and it shows. If a candle were lit in the absolute darkness, the sight would stun the eyes and brand them as marked for all time. The ceiling is a deceptive sapphire in color, the limestone bricks cannot be seen through the coat of paint. Diamonds caste into the sea of blue act as stars, glittering even in the dark. No other color can be found in the room, save for the false night sky with its precious stars. The other walls are lined with writing, dire warnings to all who should enter this space. The hieroglyphics are hastily carved, almost rushed, it looks sloppy. The rough, unfinished floor is barren, except fore the piles of gold and other precious metals, except for the skulls that lie strewn about, and the broken ribcages.

In the center of the room lies a hefty looking coffin, a sarcophagus. It too is carved with hasty writing, fearful writing. Stay away, they warn, stay away. Leave, don't look in awe, leave now…..some of the writing is unfinished. Deep within the womb of stone, through yet another coffin of wood and gold, there is a body. It sleeps unadorned, no jewelry, and no trace of a friendly burial. A simple white wrap hides this body's intimate areas, it is a male. The man lying here should be shriveled, bacteria eaten, rotting, dead. But strangely, he lies in death, as one would lie in sleep. His skin is the color of aging sands in coloration, his frame is slender, but very tall and muscled. His face carries the look of an aristocrat, as do his shapely hands. His eyes are closed, the lids a pale lavender, the eyebrows elegant. He is obviously handsome, devastatingly so. But how beauty can trick, oh how it can wed and bed us in the ultimate act of deception. Just as with this man, the human race is lucky indeed that he sleeps in eternal silence.

The candle is blown out for a moment, the small room beneath the sands is abandoned. Far to the North, a small fissure in the Earth is split, the result of a missile being fired. The tiny fissure erupts into a great fit of violence, ravishing the underground for miles. Stones scream, soil weeps, fire spreads…..it is a nightmarish thing to behold. But not nearly as horrible as the instant when a single grain of sand slips through the cracks of the tiny room, and falls unto the floor. Silence is shattered, peace is slaughtered. The chains that have held the room tight for so many years are cut clean through. The eyes of the sleeping man burst open the moment the grain of sand hits the floor. His iris's are a deep crimson, layered in black. The long sleeping body awakens, and the chest heaves for a moment, drawing ancient air into ancient lungs. The silent sleeper is now awake.

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3 months later………

"It's nice to finally be alone, for once, even if it's only for a few hours…." I mumble softly. The cool night air blowing across our entwined bodies made me shiver for a moment,

Edward sensed my discomfort and tried to disengage himself from my touch. I wasn't having any of that, not when we had been away from each other for over two months. So I tightened my arms around his neck and gently kissed his collarbone.

His lips caressed the top of my head, a smile in his voice. "That's not quite fair of you Ms. Swan….especially given the amount of time we've been apart." His cold hands traced small circles on my neck, his touch was light and sweet.

Feeling braver then usual, and goaded by the way Edward's hands kept wandering over me, I wrapped my legs about his stony form and brought myself closer to him, running my hands along his glassy abdomen. I expected he would frown at me, and end my attempts out of fear we would let our primal needs a little too far. The last time that had occurred, his venom-coated teeth had almost found their way into the vulnerable flesh of my neck. It had destroyed a good several months worth of progress I had been making with him. Safety, Edward was always concerned about my safety. In the first years of our relationship, I had thought it tender beyond belief; the way he valued me. But now, as a woman of 25, and having been in this relationship for over a decade, I was ready for a little danger. The fact that our jobs took us away from one another for months at a time did not help either. I loved my work at the aquarium, but I loved being next to Edward even more.

"Bella…" He warned, I sighed and started to pull away, disheartened. But to my surprise he growled playfully and pinned me to the bed, pressing himself gently against my form. "I really shouldn't be encouraging this sort of behavior, but we do have a bit of catching up to make good on." I chuckled, and pulled his lips to mine, savoring the way he held himself against me.

His tussled bronze hair caught flame in the ridged moonlight. It almost matched the heat of his kisses, which were becoming more and more urgent upon my cheeks, my collarbone, my lips. His heady scent was everywhere.

"Hey! Are you two done conceiving your firstborn in there yet? We've got stuff to do! Not the least of which that rematch you owe me Edward!" Emmett shouted across the oaken door. Instantaneously, the romantic mood was spoiled, and we broke from each other. I was laughing, Edward was scowling. He loved his brother as much as any man could, but there were times…..

"Have you started thinking about names? I mean Bella's got to be pretty far along, it must have been at least five months since you bore her away into your lair to mate." Emmett paused, looking for another punch, "What about Bartholomew? Or Hannibal? Not the cannibal character, the one who crossed the mountain chain…" He didn't get a chance to finish, Edward slapped him on the back with the sheer force of a wreaking ball.

"Very funny, now what did you require our presence for?" Edward inquired lightly, hiding his anger supremely well.

Emmett's boyish face lit up with delight. His dark amber eyes twinkling. "It's souvenir time. We've all been adrift lately, so Alice decided to do a little exchange, tell some stories, share some secrets." He winked at me, "I think Alice might have had the chance to pick up a copy of the Karma Sutra while she was with Jasper on their anniversary cruise. She just might be in the mood to loan it to you for a few nights Bella… once the baby is born of cour-" I giggled as Edward slapped him upside the head, while leading me down to his parent's elegant living room.

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Italy, the catacombs.

His name would be difficult for even the most practiced linguist to correctly pronounce. When he first clamored out of his dungeon, he was appalled to hear his language being spoken so horridly. It was almost vulgar to his ears, but such a thing is known to happen when a language has been dead for a good many decade. He fled that city as quickly as he had escaped his tomb, hidden deep in the shifting sands.

The man has adopted a nickname of sorts, aggrieved that his true name is butchered by all who hear it, even if it is just before their demise. Amun, he calls himself, Amun, son of the sun itself. It brings to his mind a flood of lush memories, from times so rotted, they have turned to ash in his perspective. Amunhikhopshef, that was what his father had so named him, what his mother had whispered to him in sleep. What his enemies had screamed before they burned. But now, in this strange time and city, he was reduced to Amun. It was a grating reminder of how far he, and his race, had fallen. A slap to every parent in his bloodline.

But that is why he is here, in Italy, as it was now called. The man is not stupid, or ignorant of the times. While his body lay resting, his mind roamed, and gleaned what it could from the outside world. He was rather knowledgeable in many areas of this new Earth. Which was why he had journeyed here, to their capitol. The notion that the mongrels had a government sickened him, they were mere beasts, and death had to meet them all.

They have given themselves a name? The "Volturi" are something they fear? How quaint, and stupid. Always the mindless parasites…..

His mind is cold, much like his heart, which sits beating in his chest. Queer blood flows steadily in his veins as he walks towards a grand castle, smiling in mirth, and hunger. A great hunger for havoc and loss.

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Well? This is tree of mine to bear no fruit? Or will it be filled with vitality of many reviews?