Edward stood in the grand chamber of the Volturi, the echoes of footsteps and faint whispers doing little to distract him. Aro's pale, expectant figure emerged from the shadows, his crimson gaze fixed on Edward. Without waiting for an invitation, Edward extended his hand.
Aro grasped it, his movements precise, his cold fingers wrapping around Edward's. The familiar torrent of memories and thoughts spilled into Edward's mind. Aro's voice, as vivid in his thoughts as in reality, murmured: And what do you have for me, son?
Edward's recollection unfolded with sharp clarity: the Brazilian jungles, the grotesque nature of Joham's experiments, the hybrids, and Nahuel's desperate bargaining. Aro sifted through each moment with calculated interest, lingering over the details of Edward's decisions in sparing Nahuel and his sisters.
A faint smile played at the corners of Aro's lips as he released Edward's hand. "Good call, Edward," he said softly, though his crimson eyes gleamed with something more.
Edward caught it—an underlying thought buried beneath Aro's words. The fleeting notion was deliberate, almost baiting. But before Edward could sink his focus into it, Aro shifted his attention to more pressing matters.
"Where is the vampire?" Aro asked, his voice turning brisk.
Edward stepped aside, allowing the guards to bring Joham forward.
Joham stood bound, his arrogance unbroken even in the face of inevitable death. His yellow eyes darted between the faces of the Volturi leaders, searching for an opening. Caius's expression was stony, his disgust palpable.
Caius strode forward, his expression thunderous. "Aro, must we delay this farce any longer? His crimes are clear, and his punishment should be swift."
"Patience, dear Caius," Aro replied with a thin smile, his voice almost jovial. "We must consider every facet before we act. After all, such… experiments have never been attempted before."
"Because they are abominations," Caius snapped, his pale features twisting in disgust. "Creatures that blur the line between predator and prey."
"You have mocked the laws of our kind," Caius said, his tone biting. "Your abominations have upset the delicate balance we maintain."
Joham opened his mouth to protest, but Edward caught the words before they left his lips. They're not abominations—they're evolution.
Edward's gaze remained impassive, unreadable. The man's thoughts didn't interest him. He already knew Joham's fate, and so did Joham. Felix and Demetri, ever the executioners, stepped forward at Caius's signal.
The trial ended swiftly. The fire consumed Joham's remains, and silence descended upon the chamber. Edward felt no pity, no satisfaction. Joham's end was merely a conclusion, another necessary piece of Volturi justice.
Edward returned to his quarters, but the cold beauty of Volterra's stone walls no longer held his interest. His time with the Volturi had stretched into decades, and the monotony of their existence weighed heavily on him. Missions, judgments, and politics—once a reprieve from Carlisle's self-imposed morality—now felt as tiresome as the coven he had left behind.
He leaned against the window, gazing at the city below. He thought of Carlisle, who had left the Volturi centuries ago to pursue his impossible dream of coexistence with humanity. Carlisle had written him countless letters, to telegrams over the years, detailing his growing family. Edward had replied only when it suited him, his tone curt and detached.
As Edward prepared to leave, he reflected on his time with Carlisle. When Carlisle had first left the Volturi, Edward had stayed behind for another fifty years, curious about the world Aro and his coven could offer. But the pull of his maker had eventually brought him to Carlisle's growing family.
He remembered the early days with the Cullens-Esme's warmth, Carlisle's optimism, and Rosalie's ill-conceived hope that she might be his mate. Edward had read Carlisle's mind back then, seeing the plan laid bare, and had felt nothing but disdain for it. Rosalie's beauty, though undeniable, did not stir him. Her shallow mind and self-absorption repelled him more than they attracted him.
In time, Rosalie found Emmett, and the family grew stronger. Edward had even stayed to help manage a dangerous newborn crisis, seeing the bonds between the Cullens deepen.
Now, decades later, Edward felt the stirrings of curiosity again. Not about Rosalie or her mate or the new additions to their coven, but about the Cullens themselves. It had been years since he had seen them. Perhaps it was time to indulge Carlisle with another visit.
The following evening, Edward approached Aro in the library. The ancient leader was seated with a book in hand, his expression serene but alert as Edward entered.
"I'm leaving," Edward said simply.
Aro set the book aside, his smile slow and knowing. "Ah, a visit to Carlisle, I presume?"
Edward nodded once. "I've stayed long enough."
Aro regarded him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You've always been free to come and go as you please. But your presence here will be missed."
Edward's gaze didn't waver. "I'm sure it will."
There was no need for further words. Aro inclined his head, accepting Edward's decision without question.
Before departing, Edward extended his hand to Aro one last time. Aro, ever intrigued, took it without hesitation.
In the flood of thoughts that followed, Edward caught it—the thread Aro had so carefully hidden before. It was stark and deliberate: Aro's desire to create a hybrid child, born of his own blood and will be Sulpicia's.
Edward's expression remained cold, though his mind turned briefly over the absurdity of the thought. He released Aro's hand without comment.
"Safe travels, my son," Aro said, his tone almost genuine.
Edward nodded once, turning to leave. The stone corridors of the Volturi stronghold stretched out before him, silent and familiar.
He would go to Forks, not out of longing or duty, but simply to satisfy his own restlessness. And if he grew bored there, as he inevitably would, he knew he could always return to Volterra.