She had been here before. They had been here before, long ago. She touched the pale blonde of his hair and laid her hand on his chest. He was cold, like that night so many years past. Rowan wasn't dead. Not absolutely. Not infinitely. She traced the faded marks on his skin. She could feel him. It was faint but Anala knew how her Vayar's energy felt. The bond between their souls was weakened but not diminished. She stroked his cheekbone and felt a smile play on her lips.

No, never gone.

"He couldn't be gone. Vayar die with their creators. It is instant." She looked to Carlisle. "You say this took longer. It's just a matter of guiding back the soul to the body."

"You can do that?" Carlisle asked quietly, afraid to believe her.

"Why do you think Vayar are rare?" she lay a hand on Rowan's chest. "To create one you bind a being to your own. They exist because we exist, are powerful enough to sustain the energy of the one who made them and no stronger. An anomaly of our race. They are neither one thing nor another. Not dead, but not individualistically alive either." A soft breeze carried past and Anala could feel the tendrils of energy falling into place, strengthening and reconnecting. Rowan.

The bruising on his skin faded as the markings on his body darkened. His body mended and a healthy glow replaced the deathly gray of his fair skin. Anala pushed energy into his body, letting it flow into him and felt a thud beneath her hand, followed by another, and another, picking up rhythm as his body warmed. Rowan's chest contracted and pale lids flew open. Clear blue-green greeted her before pale lavender consumed them and pink lips parted, sucking in a sharp breath. Anala lifted her hand from his chest. His hands flew upwards and grasped her arm. Her hand went to his brow. Anala didn't hear it, but someone moved. Rowan's pupils dilated and in the next instant he was on his feet, whirling as he grabbed her, shifting her behind him as pale, golden wings burst from his back and tore through his shirt. The light golden feathers reinforced, becoming razor sharp before her eyes. A low, warning hiss left him before it cut off and his wings lowered. Anala moved around to his side as he began to fall and wrapped her arms around him, easing them down. His body leaned heavily against her and his head fell against her shoulder, warm breath against her collar. He shivered as his wings enfolded into his back.

"Easy," she soothed. "Give yourself a moment."

He reached out across her body and took her hand, trailed his fingers up her arm, wrapping them around her elbow. After a few long minutes he sat up and lavender clashed against her emerald. His body radiated warm vitality. Power pulsed in his veins.

Carlisle was there, touching his brother's face, a smile brightening his handsome face. Anala could almost feel his happiness as he hugged his brother. Rowan's arms came up to embrace the vampire. The corners of his lips curled upwards.

"Carlisle, I take it I've been gone for a while?"

Once he was released and Carlisle fussed over him and the other was attempting to push the bustling hands away, insisting he was fine. Like brothers, she thought to herself. Rowan stood, rolling his shoulders and neck, sighing deeply. He disappeared and in the next instant Elias was falling out of a tree with Rowan. They landed with a dull thud in a heap of limbs. Elias wrapped his arms around the blonde as they rolled. Rowan was laughing lowly, teasing him about losing his touch, and Elias buried his face in his hair denying it softly. Anala had placed the heaviest of burdens on Rowan. He never wanted to do it, but he had done as she asked, kept her secrets and had very nearly died as he did so. She knew he wouldn't have done it if she hadn't insisted, stripped him of the choice. It was a rare command, one she hadn't wanted to give. Tears welled in her eyes as she averted her eyes to the sky beyond the cliff. Anala suddenly felt terribly alone.

Something cold stirred inside of her.

Anala wrapped her arms around herself and inhaled the cool night air. She wanted to go inside. She wanted to smile at the sight of Rowan and Carlisle. She wanted to sit with her brother. Sadness pierced her heart. She wanted to seek out Emmett and kiss him until she was breathless but instead, she stood here, on the porch, staring into the woods. It was quiet out there among the trees. Peaceful and easy to understand. They had returned here but Anala couldn't bring herself to go inside. She didn't want to look at Emmett, see the rejection she very well deserved. She didn't want to make it any worse for him. There was movement in her peripheral and she looked over as a soft sound reached her. Anala paused. There was a soft scraping. A shift. She walked down the steps and looked to the corner of the house. A swishing, like sliding a hand along grass. Anala walked towards it, a strange anxiety building in her gut. She peeked around the side of the house and stopped. There was nothing. Anala frowned.

"Anala?"

She looked over and smiled. "Hello Esme."

The pale woman smiled kindly. Her hair was pulled back and even in a casual pair of jeans and a dark blue blouse she looked gorgeous. Her amber eyes were warm as they looked at her. "Are you hungry? Edward and Bella are on their way over and I'm making something for the boys and her."

Bella? Anala admitted she had forgotten about the brunette. It was surprising Edward had stayed with her. Being involved with a vampire wasn't exactly safe when you are their natural food source. Anala wondered how long he would stay, she would age and he would not. Rose must be seething. Anala turned to the other woman completely and wrapped her arms tighter around her body. "No I'm not very hungry, thank you, Esme."

The woman regarded her for a moment and smoothed her hand over Anala's hair. "Are you alright dear?"

A reply was on her lips before she realized she didn't know. Anala didn't know what alright even was. Was she supposed to be alright? Anala couldn't tell. She had never died before, how did one react to that? How did one continue on as if nothing had changed when everything had changed and she had been dropped into life so abruptly and without warning? Thoughts bounced in her head in a jumbled mess and she was having a difficult time discerning exactly what energies were which, too many hitting her at once constantly. Anala picked at her nail. She was only mindful of the cold and the awareness of her skin feeling tight and constricting. Anala smiled at Esme and nodded.

"I'm fine."

Javan listened. She was pacing again. Back and forth. In circles. Continuous walking. It was better than the silence however. Those stretches of quiet that seemed to fall over the entire house. If it weren't for her heartbeat he would've thought he were alone. Javan stared at the ceiling intensely, willing the walls to spill the secrets they kept and tell him what was happening above. It wasn't exactly obvious, but Javan had spent years learning their behaviors. Something was wrong with Anala. Javan hadn't been sure for the first few days but it had been over a week since Anala had returned and the one thing that became clear was that she hadn't slept. Then the little things became clear. She was barely eating, Anala was right there but seemed faraway and Javan had seen her on several occasions just standing in the den, staring out the bay window, or in the hall, or the back yard. Just standing there. There was a look in her eyes that did not belong.

And of course, there was the pacing.

Anala seemed . . . unaffected. She still hummed as she cleaned, still sat with him and drew as she sipped tea and was still close to her brother. It created doubt, Javan didn't like that. That meant he could be wrong, and maybe he was. But that didn't explain any of it and that blonde hadn't been any help. Javan hadn't met Rowan when he returned from Italy. By the time the chance arrived he was already dead. He hadn't really cared. He didn't even know the man. Then he saw him. In the flesh, back from the dead. He wondered if anymore strangers were going to be returning from the great beyond. Rowan Cullen was . . . celestial. It was almost hard to believe he was Carlisle's brother.

The first time Javan lay eyes on him he'd had walked in on him, drinking the lifeblood from Anala. Her hair had been wet, dripping on the hardwood of the upstairs hall way. She was naked besides the thin white lace underwear she wore and for a split instant Javan thought to kill him, this stranger in his house. He was holding her, pressing her against his body and pale-blonde hair glowed in the light from her open bedroom. His mouth was pressed against her throat. Anala had been calm. Her eyes were shut and her cheeks flushed as she tilted her head back. He pulled back and Javan decided then and there he would have him. Pale lavender eyes met his evenly. He looked at him fearlessly, almost blankly except for a bit of mild wonder.

Then he had dismissed him.

In an instant Rowan had looked at then overlooked him and returned his blood-stained mouth to her skin. It was a beautiful sight. Javan finally had a playmate. This was going to be fun. He was intrigued. Javan could hardly help himself. Those eyes told a story and his body played with his senses, and Rowan knew it. Javan snapped out of his thoughts as it became quiet once again. He frowned. Worry gnawed at him.

But maybe, I'm right.

She walked in a field of corpses. Pale, bloated, mutilated things impaled on tall spikes. Twisted effigies. She stopped at one, directly in front of her. The leathery grey flesh was slit, torso swollen. She reached out. The torso ripped open, entrails slopping on the ground as black crows flew out, their cries filling the air as feathers fell at her feet. A figure waked through the forest of bodies. Tall and pale and wraith-like. Fear clutched her. Get away. Get away from it. Get away!

Anala pulled her legs tighter to her chest and trembled, gripping her head. Energy saturated everything, pressing down on her. It leaked through the walls and floor. She was drowning in it. This was the quietest place in the house. The farthest corner of the basement, deep among boxes and various items covered in dust. Anala didn't remember coming down here but she didn't dwell. Murmurs came from above, incomprehensible, a soft mesh of voices. They coaxed her, soft and luring. Her body wouldn't stop shaking. She felt trapped, invisible chains were wrapping around her throat. Anala took a deep shuddering breath. She was alone and was grateful for that. Her insides twisted and her body was beginning to feel like a cage. She was in a cage.

Anala hated cages.

Anala tore at her hair. Breathe.

She stood and leaned against the cold wall. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . fi—she shuddered. Her head was on fire. Shadows warped and flickered. Her thoughts plagued her in indefinable knots and the pit inside her wouldn't allow her to forget it was there. Restless energy buzzed through her and her vision blurred suddenly. What had she returned to? How did she end up here? It didn't feel the same. It was home, but it wasn't. She was here, but didn't fit. Her blood pumped hot in her veins and Anala felt she was drowning. She couldn't breathe. Her heart was hurting, thumping a rapid tattoo in her chest. Anala could hear the door rattling then shaking, hands pounding the surface violently and inhuman squealing and snarling met her ears. She covered them and shut her eyes. She thought of lilies and grass and silent black eyes. She thought of Nolan. She thought of Emmett. As if she merited to. The storm inside her suddenly quieted. Everything stilled and the blissful silence was welcome. She sighed.

Just breathe.