Char POV

Peter and I left for Romania a few hours ahead of the others, choosing to make the journey on foot. The decision felt right—partly because it gave us the freedom to act like wanderers or travelers and partly because it offered us time to think and strategize before reaching our destination. The path ahead was uncertain, and we both knew that one misstep could see our heads delivered back to Volterra in a sack. Neither of us intended to let that happen, so we used the run to weigh our options carefully.

Peter firmly believed that a direct approach was our best strategy for navigating the complexities of an army stronghold, and, to my surprise, I found myself agreeing. Before we set out, he had meticulously reviewed the latest intelligence and pinpointed a potential entry point—a section of the barrier that appeared to be less guarded than the rest. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it seemed like our best shot.

We needed to strike a delicate balance. Being too stealthy might raise suspicion among the Romanians and give them the wrong impression about our intentions. At the same time, we couldn't risk being seen near the area where the Guard had stationed themselves to monitor the barrier's activity. One wrong move could expose us, either to the Romanians or to the Volturi, and jeopardize everything.

Our objective was simple in theory but fraught with challenges in execution: infiltrate the Romanian stronghold without revealing any allegiance to the Volturi. The path we had to walk was razor-thin, with no room for error.

Approaching the stronghold would require precision. I was almost certain that as soon as we were seen near the barrier, we'd have only moments to prove we weren't a threat—or we'd be eliminated on the spot. That left us with one crucial task: crafting a believable cover story. Unfortunately, that wasn't my area of expertise, and the sheer number of variables made my head spin. Recognizing my frustration, Peter took the lead, piecing together a plausible narrative as we raced through the countryside toward Romania.

To Stefan and Vladimir, we needed to appear as devoted allies, wholeheartedly committed to their mission of opposing the Volturi and their relentless pursuit of dominance. Every word we spoke, every gesture we made, had to convey unwavering belief in their cause. We couldn't afford even a hint of hesitation—there was no telling what other vampires might be present, ready to sense any insincerity. One misstep, one perceived lack of conviction, and we would be reduced to ashes before getting a chance to explain ourselves.

Beyond proving our loyalty, we also had to demonstrate our value. We needed to convince them we were indispensable to earn a place in their inner circle. Time was not on our side; we had only four weeks to establish trust and secure access to their inner workings. While achievable, this timeline left little room for error. Once inside, we could begin dismantling their operations from within—a delicate, dangerous task that required everything to go according to plan.

Of course, Stefan and Vladimir weren't the only ones we needed to consider. Maria posed a challenge of her own. To secure her approval, I believed making ourselves "useful" to the Romanians would grant us some leniency. Peter, however, didn't share my optimism. His history with Maria was complicated, and I couldn't ignore his concerns.

Peter had left Maria's army centuries ago, and their parting had been anything but amicable. That unresolved history loomed over our mission like a shadow. I had no illusions about how difficult it would be for him to regain her trust. A woman like Maria wouldn't let go of past grievances easily, and I was certain she'd have many questions for him. Earning her favor would require a level of delicacy and tact far beyond what we would need with Stefan and Vladimir.

In truth, the challenges ahead felt insurmountable at times. But Peter and I both knew that failure wasn't an option.

Perhaps the best way to approach Maria would be to position myself as a woman who had finally had enough, seeking solidarity with another woman who surely understood what that felt like. As for Peter, he could try engaging her by showing that he finally grasped her motives and even sympathized with them. If he framed our knowledge of the Volturi as an asset too valuable to ignore, it might overshadow any lingering resentment she held. Then again, Peter had a knack for doing things in his own unpredictable way, often catching me completely off guard.

Anything was possible, but I did have a backup plan in case Maria recognized me as a former Volturi member. I could lean into a narrative that played to her sense of independence and feminine power. I'd tell her I was fed up with ancient men making decisions for me, constantly putting my life on the line while they stayed safely in the shadows. Surely that frustration would resonate with her. Who knows? It was worth a shot if things didn't go as planned.

I could claim that meeting Peter had been my breaking point. After realizing he was my Mate during a mission for the Volturi, I decided to leave. The more they tried to drag me back, the more bitter and determined I became to resist. I'd even admit I was never a great fit for their ranks in the first place—more of an outsider than a true believer.

Of course, none of this was true. But sometimes, the most convincing lies are built on some semblance of reality. It felt like a plausible story, one that might be just enough to tip the scales in our favor. I'd need to run it by Peter, though, once I had the details worked out.

By the time we reached Romania and located the castle where the Romanians were entrenched, we had refined our plans. A brief reconnaissance of the area helped us match what we'd seen in the aerial footage to the reality on the ground, giving us a better understanding of the terrain. Once we identified the entry point we'd selected earlier, we headed toward it, fully committed to gaining access.

Eventually, we reached the physical barrier designed to keep out the Volturi forces. Standing there, faced with the invisible wall, I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me. This was the critical juncture. If we couldn't get in, we'd be exposed and vulnerable, our entire mission unraveling before it even began. Sensing my nerves, Peter took my hand and lightly rubbed my knuckles in a calming gesture. "Now we wait," he whispered, his voice steady and quiet.
To say gaining access to the Romanian stronghold was easier than expected would be an understatement. We waited no more than thirty seconds before spotting movement on the other side of the barrier. A figure appeared, mimicking the act of placing a hand against the invisible wall. Taking the hint, Peter and I followed suit, pressing our hands against the barrier. A moment later, we found ourselves pulled solidly to the other side.
"Welcome," a voice greeted us.

The speaker was a newborn vampire, tall and gaunt, with dark hair cascading past her shoulders and a skeletal frame that made her appear otherworldly. Her hollow eyes surveyed us with quiet intensity, and for a moment, I could only stare. Then my gaze shifted to Peter.

"We'd like to speak to Stefan and Vladimir," Peter said, his voice calm and direct. I knew he could feel my eyes on him, questioning, searching, but he ignored me for now. Taking the hint, I redirected my focus back to the vampire before us, whose expression betrayed no hint of her thoughts.

"Right this way," she said, her tone composed as she turned and walked back the way she'd come. Peter and I exchanged a quick glance before following her.
Something about her calm demeanor was unsettling, especially for someone so new to this life. A newborn vampire's instincts are typically chaotic—raw and unpredictable—yet she carried herself with an unnatural poise. It put me on edge. Perhaps she was older than she appeared, her maturity explaining why we weren't attacked, restrained, or interrogated on sight. But as I continued observing her, the truth became clearer. She was indeed a newborn, her subtle movements and occasional sharp glances betraying the heightened awareness typical of the newly turned.

Still, she was approaching the end of her first year, and that proximity to control might have accounted for her unsettling composure. While her polite demeanor was reassuring on the surface, it gnawed at me. Newborns shouldn't be this composed. It felt wrong—unnatural, even—and I couldn't shake the sense that there was more to her story than met the eye.

Normally, I wouldn't question a stroke of luck like this. I should have felt relieved that we'd gained entry without much resistance. But this situation immediately set me on edge—it felt far too easy. That kind of ease could only mean one of two things: either Maria and the Romanians were desperate for help, or they were fully aware of our intentions and were letting us walk straight into a trap.

As we followed our skeletal escort, I cast a questioning glance at Peter, raising an eyebrow to convey my unease about her condition. He met my gaze, understanding immediately. Vampires could appear emaciated if deprived of blood for too long, but this woman looked beyond that. She seemed one small meal away from true death—if such a thing were even possible for our kind. The idea unsettled me. I'd never considered starvation before, having always been well-fed in Volterra. For the first time, I realized how fortunate I'd been, and the sight of her frailty stirred something in me that felt uncomfortably close to pity.
Peter shook his head subtly, a barely perceptible gesture that only I noticed.

"She hasn't been properly fed in a long time," he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost to the air. "It must be a punishment for something."

My gaze shifted back to the woman, and my heart twisted at the sight of her gaunt frame and hollow cheeks. "Will she not die if she continues to go without blood?" I murmured back, keeping my voice equally low. "She looks like she's about to collapse."

Peter's lips tightened briefly before he replied. "I don't think vampires can starve to death, not in the way humans do. But prolonged deprivation… it can do things. Mentally. Physically. It's like a living torment."

The thought lingered as we walked, an uneasy silence settling between us. Whatever her story was, it couldn't be anything good.

Unexpectedly, a voice answered, sharp and cutting through the air like a blade. "We don't starve to death in the typical human way," the speaker said, his tone laced with disdain as he nearly spat the word "human." "What we experience is more akin to dehydration—mummification, even. Fay is one of three we've kept in this state."

The man who had appeared before us was of average size, with piercing red eyes and jet-black hair. There was nothing particularly striking about him—he seemed almost ordinary, yet his presence carried an undeniable weight.

"Stefan," Peter greeted, his voice steady as he extended his hand to one of the infamous Romanians. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Peter Whitlock, and this is Charlotte."

Stefan didn't immediately return the handshake but regarded Peter with a shrewd gaze. His timing suggested that he had been expecting us; he had intercepted us halfway to the castle, as though an internal alarm had alerted him the moment we passed through the barrier.

"Your companion," Stefan said, tilting his head in my direction without making direct eye contact, "thinks I'm a monster." The words were delivered flatly, without a trace of emotion, yet they landed like a stone dropped into a still pond.

Peter flinched, almost imperceptibly, and dropped his hand. Stefan didn't bother to wait for a response from either of us. Instead, he turned on his heel and began walking back toward the castle, his posture a silent command for us to follow.

I glanced at Peter, who gave a slight nod. We had no choice but to obey.

"No," I reply sweetly, offering a calm explanation to fix this first-impression screw up. "I've never seen another of our kind in that state before. It was shocking to see someone who looked like a walking skeleton. I'm sure there's a reason for her condition—I was simply curious."

"It's amazing, isn't it?" another voice calls out as we flit through the front gates of the fortress and step into what appears to be the courtyard. The voice carries a strange enthusiasm, its tone sharp and almost clinical. "It's incredible how much we've learned about ourselves since we started working with newborns. So many test subjects."

The mention of "test subjects" makes my eyebrows shoot up. That was not what I had expected to hear, and it set off warning bells in my mind. Vampires as test subjects? The thought was unsettling. I made a mental note to pay close attention to what else might be revealed—it felt like something Peter and I needed to tread around carefully.

The vampire who had spoken was starkly different from his coven mate, Stefan. Where Stefan seemed ordinary, this one was almost otherworldly in his appearance, though not in an alluring way. His skin was as pale as fresh snow, his hair even whiter, and he stood slightly shorter than Stefan, though with a cruel set to his features that made him appear far more menacing. His presence alone was jarring, and the contrast between him and Stefan, now standing side by side, was incredibly unsettling.

This must be Vladimir. He approached us with deliberate steps, reaching for Peter's hand to introduce himself, though his sharp gaze seemed to assess us both as though cataloging potential weaknesses.

I couldn't help but notice that neither of the Romanians bothered to look in my direction, let alone offer any proper introduction. It left me wondering about Maria's true status here—and my own.

Thinking of the heinous bitch herself, where was Maria? This fortress was vast, yes, but if Stefan and Vladimir had been alerted to our arrival so quickly, surely Maria wouldn't be far behind. Yet, she was conspicuously absent. Her exclusion gnawed at me, raising questions I wasn't yet prepared to voice. Was she not important enough to these two for them to bother with an introduction? Or did she simply not care to make an appearance? Either possibility left me uneasy, though for very different reasons.

I glanced at Peter, trying to gauge his read on the situation, but his expression remained neutral, unreadable. For now, we would follow their lead—but the tension in the air was impossible to ignore.

I tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Peter addressing the two ancient vampires. "We heard about your mission to finally rid the world of the Volturi for good. Is this true? Will we finally be free of the self-aggrandizing Kings? No more secrecy?"

It was certainly a bold move, playing into their apparent goal. It wasn't the approach I would have chosen, but I understood the tactic. It was a surface-level strategy—one to get us in the door, at least.

"That's what the rumor is," Stefan replied, his tone coy and nonchalant.

Peter's expression was one of confusion, and I couldn't help but share in his bewilderment. "I thought that was the whole point of this," he said, his hand sweeping to encompass the grand scale of the fortress around us. "Aren't you housing your Army here?"

Vladimir's lips curled into something that might have been a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We can understand why the grapevine might believe that, but our motives are not as straightforward as that," he explained. "In fact, we are willing to let that be the "understood" reason that we're here and more than happy to see the chaos that it brings to those Italian dogs."

Peter frowned, his bafflement growing. "I'm afraid I don't follow," he admitted, raising his brows as he glanced between the two men.
Stefan didn't seem at all fazed by Peter's confusion. "Come," he said, gesturing toward the grand entrance of the fortress. "It may make more sense if we talk in private."

Peter exchanged a glance with me before offering a casual shrug, the unspoken agreement between us clear. We'd made it past the barrier, and now we were here, standing at the threshold of their operation. If they were inclined to share their potential plans, who were we to interrupt?

For now, we had no reason to do anything but follow their lead. The more they revealed, the closer we came to piecing together the full picture—and the better prepared we'd be when the time came to act.

I offered a smile in his direction, and we continued walking, staying just behind him as Stefan and Vladimir led the way. I couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to take a much more complicated turn.

As we step into the main hall, I can't help but be taken aback by the stark contrast between the grand expectations and the reality before me. The walls are cracked and worn, like the remnants of a once-mighty structure that has long been left to rot. The floor is pocked with divots, dirt shoved into every corner, and water pools in random spots, a result of holes in the ceiling allowing the melting snow to seep through. There is no sign of luxury here—no gleaming surfaces, no polished floors. Instead, torches flicker weakly along the walls, casting eerie shadows and giving the entire space a grimy, neglected feel.

We're led toward the back of the hall, up to a dais that stands in sharp contrast to the decay around us. At its center, the only signs of opulence are two armchairs—gold and silver, with velvet cushions—sitting at the foot of the platform. These chairs, it seems, are meant to be thrones for the kings or gods that the Romanians fancy themselves to be. Vladimir settles into the silver chair, and Stefan claims the gold one, both of them lounging as though the world has been built to accommodate their every whim.

The more I look, the more repulsed I become. The thrones themselves, crafted from pure silver and gold, are undeniably exquisite, their intricate designs betraying their true cost. Rubies gleam from the arms and the heads of the chairs—precious stones so rare and expensive that they could have funded the revitalization of an entire country. The wealth and artistry poured into these pieces are impossible to ignore, but they only highlight the sheer wastefulness of the men who sit upon them. The thrones are positioned with deliberate care, yet the legs show the unmistakable signs of neglect—dirt and grime build up on the feet, as though they've never been moved in centuries.

Here they sit, perched upon their glittering seats, surrounded by a crumbling fortress. The contrast is stark: the wealth they once possessed, hoarded in these magnificent chairs, is not used to restore their home or help the communities that surround them. They would rather watch this place decay around them as long as their thrones remain untouched and their vanity unchecked.

I am not impressed. I'm disgusted.

If I didn't already have enough reasons to want to end these two, I certainly did now. But acting too soon would be a mistake. I needed to stay silent, bide my time, and wait for the right moment.

I tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Vladimir speak. "I never would have thought it would be so helpful," he mused, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Peter, ever the diplomat, responded smoothly, "I can only imagine the benefit to vampirekind of having all this research laid out: what can and can't be done, and what we are truly capable of. It's truly impressive." He might be laying it on a bit thick, but it seemed to be having the desired effect. Vladimir looked thoroughly pleased, his smug grin widening.

Peter continued, "And here we were, thinking that this whole endeavor was just to take down the Volturi. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think this was the dawn of the evolution of vampirekind."

It was clear I had missed something crucial while my focus wandered, consumed by the dilapidated state of the room and my growing disgust. The two enigmatic vampires had been discussing test subjects and research, yet my preoccupation with the fortress's decay had blinded me to the larger picture unfolding before us. If I wanted to do my job, I needed to be sure my attention didn't stray again.

Vladimir's eyes glittered with a mix of pride and ambition as he nodded slightly. Before he could respond, Stefan, clearly intrigued, leaned forward. "Is this the dawn of our evolution?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. "I never considered it that way, but yes, it does seem to be the beginning of a new phase in our advancement."

A flicker of unease stirred within me. While their motivations were coming into sharper focus, it only served to underscore their potential for danger. The combination of their research and ambitions hinted at the possibility of transforming us into something entirely new, something beyond what we were. The realization hit me hard—the stakes were so much higher than I had anticipated.

Peter leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "So, what role does Maria play in this, if you don't mind me askin'?" His tone was polite, but there was a hint of confusion. "We have a…history and rumor has it she was working for you in some capacity. Is that not the case?"

Stefan's expression remained cheerfully composed as he replied, "Oh, a 'history,' you say? How intriguing. I would certainly enjoy hearing more about this 'history,' as you put it, later." He pauses, clearly thinking of his next words before admitting, "She does work with us. Her main contribution is providing us with newborns for testing. We're happy to let rumors circulate of her true purpose here and she serves as a good distraction. While our primary goal isn't necessarily to take down the Volturi, we wouldn't oppose her pursuing that aim, as she has the skills to accomplish it. The only thing we have truly entrusted to her is our request that our work remains undisturbed, which means our safety and security are in her hands, whatever that may entail."

Vladimir, his voice laced with disdain, snarled, "The Volturi scum don't understand progress. They are under the misguided impression that we are out to steal their rule from them as well as their lives. We hold no such ideals, though if their lives were forfeit, we would not mourn. Their goals are too small, and their minds are too limited. We will be the start of a brand new era of vampires: more capable, more resilient—"

"—less glittery," Stefan interrupted with a smirk, clearly amused. "Pardon Vlad, he gets excited over science." The Romanians' plans grew more unsettling with every word they spoke, their candidness bordering on unnerving.

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, astonished by the sheer audacity of their intentions. "Is that really what you've been doing here?" I asked, the weight of the thought settling heavily in my mind. This was certainly nothing like we had anticipated. "You're not just experimenting with different methods of torture—especially in Fay's case" I raised my arm in the general direction of the door we walked through not too long ago "—but you're actually researching whether it's possible for vampires to exist without sparkling?"

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment, the silence amplifying the gravity of what they had revealed.

I leaned in slightly, piecing the puzzle together in my mind, my curiosity sharpened despite the need for caution. "So, you believe vampires would be better off if we could move through the world unnoticed?" I asked, keeping my tone light and conversational, as if I were merely intrigued by the idea rather than probing for answers.

"Among other things," Vladimir scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain at having to answer me. His derisive snort was followed by a fervent declaration. "It's about dignity! We don't need to sparkle like magical creatures from a child's bedtime story. We are predators—powerful, dominant—not some fragile, glittering beings fit for a fairytale! Our goal is to move through the world with the respect and fear we deserve, not as some fanciful spectacle."

I glanced over at Peter, who seemed content to let the conversation unfold, though his eyes were calculating, searching for the underlying motive. Why here? Why now? It was written all over his face—a question that only someone used to his expressions would pick up on. But the Romanians remained blissfully unaware.

It was becoming clear that the Romanians viewed themselves as revolutionaries, pushing the boundaries of what it meant to be a vampire—and, in a disturbing way, they weren't entirely wrong. They were revolutionaries, in their own twisted way. Yet, their obsession with becoming less "sparkly" along with the "other things" Vladimir mentioned felt less like a genuine advancement for vampirekind and more like an attempt to improve their own image. It wasn't about progress, it was about control—about erasing imperfections, as if being a vampire wasn't already extraordinary enough.

"But," I pressed cautiously, "what happens if you succeed in removing the sparkle? What's the ultimate goal here? Are you trying to create an army of vampires who are indistinguishable from humans?"

Stefan's eyes glittered with excitement, his voice laced with ambition. "Not an army. Just evolution. We're trying to evolve beyond the limitations placed on us by the Volturi and the false ideals that have been forced upon our kind. Imagine a world where we walk freely, where we are unshackled by weakness and can shape our future without fear of discovery."

We were damn near indestructible as it was, and yet, there they were, talking about reshaping us. I couldn't help but feel a chill run down my spine hearing him speak. This wasn't just about scientific discovery or vanity; they weren't looking to evolve, they were trying to create a version of themselves that fit their idealized image, to shape their existence to conform to some flawed sense of perfection. The stakes had grown higher than I initially thought—this was about their fate, and perhaps even the fate of the vampire world itself. There was something much darker at play here than I'd realized, and we were right at the center of it.

"That sounds... ambitious," I said carefully, my mind racing as I processed the magnitude of what they were planning. "But at what cost? You're talking about experimenting on newborns, manipulating their transformation process. Isn't that dangerous?"

Vladimir's gaze flicked to me, finally acknowledging my presence with an unsettling intensity. "Everything worthwhile is dangerous," he replied curtly, his voice dripping with disdain for any hesitation or caution. "Progress doesn't come without risk."

Peter absorbed this information with a calculating glint in his eyes, his thoughts clearly working at a pace I couldn't quite follow. He glanced at me, his expression carefully blank, and gave the subtlest raise of his right eyebrow—a silent warning. We both knew what this meant. The Romanians' ambitions were anything but innocent, and whatever game they were playing, it was laced with danger.

I understood his unspoken message: stay sharp, stay cautious. We had to tread carefully and gather every piece of information we could before their experiments, their magic, or their twisted goals spiraled even further out of control. The clock was ticking, and we were running out of time to stay ahead of whatever was coming. I could sense that his mind was working through the implications of their words.

He shocked me by asking, "What can we do to help the cause?", his false enthusiasm almost believable in how palpable it was. "I'm sure there's something we can contribute. After all, that's why we're here."

"Really?" Stefan responded, a hint of false sincerity coloring his voice. "I was under the impression that you wanted to take down the Volturi, that you were here to start a war. We are not. We simply want to study and be left to our work in peace. Why change the purpose of your visit now?"

It was a sharp question, and I hoped Peter had a well-prepared answer—because without one, our involvement here might be over before it had even begun. But something about the situation didn't sit right with me.

Yes, I believed that, to some extent, Stefan and Vladimir genuinely wanted to avoid a major conflict for what it was worth, but I couldn't shake the feeling that they were being far too open with us, two strangers. Why were they sharing so much information without first probing our true intentions? We could easily walk away with everything they'd told us and leave them none the wiser. It didn't add up. I was almost certain there was more to this than they were letting on.

"We saw the massive barrier outside, and from what we've heard of your progress and intentions, along with what I've witnessed myself, I'm not afraid to say that I'd like to be involved in some way," Peter replied, his voice a mixture of hope and quiet determination.

Peter's words lingered in the air, his enthusiasm mixed with a subtle but seemingly genuine curiosity. I wasn't sure if it would be enough to sway them, but I added, "You're right, Stefan. Our initial purpose here was to help you win a war. But from everything we've heard and seen, what you've built here is so much more than that." I knew I was probably pushing it, but it had worked before, and I'd say anything to keep us in this conversation. "We'd truly be honored if you'd allow us the chance to assist you with your research."

I could sense their hesitation, the wheels turning as they weighed our words. It was a gamble, but in this delicate dance, I hoped it would pay off.