The message from Carlisle arrived unexpectedly, as it often did, concise and tinged with warmth: "I'm glad you're finally coming home." Edward read it twice, then let the paper fall to the desk before him. Home. The word felt strange now, almost foreign. He had lived apart from Carlisle's coven for so long that the Cullens seemed more like acquaintances than family. Yet Carlisle's unfailing kindness persisted, his hope that Edward would stay for decades—or at least long enough to soften the years.

Edward didn't share the sentiment. He respected Carlisle as one might an elder brother—admiring his righteousness, his unyielding kindness—but he couldn't mirror it. Edward bore the Cullen name as a borrowed shield, not an identity, a testament to Carlisle's influence rather than his own aspirations. And now, Carlisle expected him to change his diet once again, from the rich intoxication of human blood to the pallid substitute of animal blood. A concession Edward wasn't thrilled to make, but one he would, if only out of respect.

The 1980s had settled into Forks like a damp fog, muted and unchanging. Carlisle's coven, however, had grown, though Edward was only just learning of the newest additions. Carlisle had explained it over the phone—how these new vampires had found them, guided by visions of a life shared. A seer and her mate, Carlisle had said. A thought crossed Edward's mind: Aro would kill for such a gift in his guard. It wasn't jealousy, exactly, but something sharper. Curiosity, edged with wariness.

Edward's plane landed in Seattle, the bustling city buzzing with mundane human lives. At the terminal, a familiar figure stood waiting—Esme, warm and maternal, with her perpetually kind smile, and beside her, Emmett and Rosalie. Emmett's exuberance was as loud as ever, his grin splitting his face as he waved Edward over.

"Edward!" Emmett clapped him on the shoulder, the force jarring but meaningless to their kind. "About time you showed up. Ready for a rematch?"

Edward allowed a faint smile, though his tone was dry. "Rematch? You're still holding onto that loss?"

Esme stepped in, her calming presence palpable. "We've missed you, Edward." Her eyes searched his face, soft with affection.

Rosalie stood poised, regal as ever, but offered a polite nod. "Welcome back."

In the car, Emmett's boisterousness filled the space. "Wait till you meet Alice and Jasper. They're something else. Alice's visions are like—bam! And Jasper, he's—"

"Empathic," Edward finished. His voice was steady, but curiosity laced his tone. He had glimpsed fragments of these new minds through Emmett and Rosalie's thoughts—a blur of visions, feelings, and muted mystery.

Carlisle, ever the peacemaker, explained from the driver's seat, "Alice had a vision of us before she and Jasper arrived. They said they were meant to join our family, and that was that."

"You didn't hesitate?" Edward asked, his tone skeptical.

Carlisle glanced at him in the rearview mirror, his expression serene. "No. They needed a home, and we welcomed them."

Esme turned, her smile radiant. "Alice has been so excited to meet you. She says you'll get along wonderfully."

Edward's lips twitched into a half-smile. "The seer has piqued my interest."

Emmett leaned over, grinning. "Oh, and Jasper? He's not just an empath. He's got this… presence. You'll see."

Edward's mind churned. A seer and an empath. Carlisle's coven grows stranger by the decade. Yet, somewhere beneath his cynicism, a spark of interest flickered.

The rain had just begun to fall when they arrived at the Cullen house in Forks. The modest home stood against the backdrop of towering pines, the air thick with the scent of moss and damp earth. On the porch stood two figures—a petite woman with cropped, spiky hair and a taller, stoic man with sharp features.

Before Edward could step out of the van, the woman approached, her movements quick and deliberate. Her mind buzzed with images, flickering through scenes like a projector reel. Edward blinked, startled by the clarity of her thoughts—glimpses of their arrival, their introductions, the unfolding hours ahead. It was disconcerting, as though she were two steps ahead in a game only she understood.

"You must be Edward," she said brightly, her voice lilting. "I'm Alice. This is Jasper." She gestured to the man beside her, who offered a reserved nod.

Edward took her in—her diminutive frame, her animated demeanor—and reached out, shaking her hand. Her enthusiasm was almost overwhelming, yet her mind fascinated him. "You've seen this already," he noted.

Alice beamed. "I have. It's like déjà vu, isn't it? But don't worry—it's not always like this. My visions depend on decisions. They shift and change."

"Hmm." Edward's curiosity deepened. He wondered briefly how Alice's gift could be wielded, its potential uses and limitations. He thought of Aro again, his calculating mind weaving possibilities.

Jasper stepped forward then, his thoughts sharp and measured. Edward caught the faint pull of Jasper's influence—a subtle shift in the room's atmosphere, a balancing of tension. "You must be the empath," Edward said, extending his hand.

Jasper's handshake was firm, his golden eyes assessing. "And you're the mind reader."

The weight of unspoken understanding hung between them. Edward could feel the layers of calculation in Jasper's mind, the quiet control beneath his calm exterior.

For the first time in years, Edward felt a flicker of something he hadn't anticipated: intrigue. He wouldn't be bored here—not with these new additions. Not with their gifts. This coven, with its seer and empath, was a puzzle he might enjoy unraveling.