The procession wove its way through Volterra with all the grandeur of a long-held tradition. Humans, clad in vibrant red cloaks symbolizing St. Marcus's heroic deeds, thronged the streets in celebration. The streets were alight with festivity, laughter mingling with the somber toll of ancient bells that echoed off the castle walls.
On the rooftop of the castle, Edward stood in silence, his figure obscured by shadow. He remained invisible to human eyes and careful even with his movements, ensuring no other vampire detected his presence. His golden eyes never wavered from the crowd below. More precisely, they never wavered from Isabella.
Her brown eyes sparkled with delight as she clutched Gianna's hand, taking in the sights with the wide-eyed wonder that only a child could possess. Her face was lit with innocent joy, the golden light of the festival painting her cheeks. Edward found himself mesmerized by the sight. This, he thought, was why he stayed.
But that joy also filled him with a sense of responsibility—a burden that rested so heavily on his shoulders it was a wonder he could still stand. How could anyone look at her and not want to protect her with their life? he wondered. He'd give anything to see that expression on her face every single day, to shield her from every shadow, every dark thing that might creep too close.
Still, he was here for more than his affections. His gaze flickered across the throngs of humans, constantly assessing. There were too many of them, their thoughts a chaotic jumble in his mind. A wave of envy swept through him as he wished—not for the first time—that his ability to read minds could be more selective, less overwhelming in moments like these. Focus, he told himself.
His mind latched onto a disturbance, subtle but unshakable, a faint pulse of wrongness amidst the vibrant celebration.
And then he saw it—movement near one of the castle's more obscure doors. The door itself was unremarkable, framed by weathered stone that spoke of centuries past. A relic of Volterra's labyrinthine structure, it had been deemed nearly invisible to human eyes. Yet there stood a man, attempting to appear inconspicuous while failing utterly.
Edward's entire being stiffened. That door was no mere entrance; it led deep into the private sanctums of the Volturi's fortress. No one, human or otherwise, had any business near it. The man's hesitation at the threshold, combined with his attempts to remain unseen, raised alarms Edward couldn't ignore.
How did he get this close without being detected by the guards?
Edward honed in on the figure's thoughts. At first, they were muddied, fragmented, drowning in the noise of the square. Edward shifted positions on the rooftop, closing the gap to isolate the man's mind. Gradually, the thoughts crystallized, chaotic yet vivid.
The man held a package—a single envelope, its corner sticking out slightly from his jacket pocket. His thoughts flickered with fragmented memories, tinged with unease. Edward pieced together scenes: clandestine deliveries to addresses in scattered cities, silent handoffs, the cold press of coins against his palm. The courier obeyed without resistance, with no comprehension of the significance behind these deliveries.
Then Edward dug deeper and felt his stomach tighten.
The man's mind had been bent—compelled by another's will. Memories of fiery crimson eyes surged into focus, boring into the courier with otherworldly authority. Faint whispers clawed at the recesses of his thoughts, commanding obedience without question or resistance.
"You will deliver these letters. No questions, no hesitations. Forget my face, forget my voice. Obey."
The courier's hands trembled as the whispers lingered, their weight driving out rationality. Edward felt the ripple of fear coursing through him—how utterly helpless he'd been before that vampire's command.
Digging further into the courier's hazy memories, Edward unearthed flashes of landscapes—a vineyard draped in shadows, rolling hills framed by nightfall, a symbol stamped onto every envelope. It was a twisted seal of vines wrapped around a singular, enigmatic symbol.
Edward's gaze darkened. Whoever orchestrated this had manipulated this man into becoming their unwitting pawn. But they were far more organized—and daring—than he'd expected.
His focus snapped back to the present as the man moved closer to the door. The courier's steps were hesitant yet purposeful, as if driven by an invisible force he couldn't resist.
Edward didn't hesitate. He leapt from the rooftop with silent precision, landing effortlessly in front of the man before he could take another step. The motion was too swift for human perception, and the man recoiled in shock.
Edward's hand shot out, gripping the man's wrist. His golden eyes bored into the courier's panicked face.
"Who sent you?" Edward's voice was low, his tone as calm as it was lethal.
The man stammered, his face ashen. "I-I don't… I don't know…" His mind was already disjointed, the compulsion strangling his memories before they could fully form.
Edward intensified his grip—not on the man's wrist, but on his thoughts. He pushed past the haze of fear and domination, combing through fragmented pieces. At last, he found a hint of clarity: a memory of the vampire with the crimson eyes.
But there was more. The faint, flickering image of others. Edward pushed harder, drawing out the connection between this courier and a larger force. A coven. Numerous vampires. Too many to count. The courier didn't know their faces, but Edward could sense their looming presence.
The vineyard returned—a grounded clue. North. The hills stretched somewhere north.
Edward released the man's wrist and the courier stumbled back into the crowd, clutching his letter as if his life depended on it. Edward knew the man would forget this encounter; the vampire's compulsion had ensured that any deviation from his assigned task would dissolve into mental fog. Demitri must see to this fast.
From across the square, Edward's gaze sought Bella. He found her effortlessly, her laughter rising above the noise as she admired the festivities. Gianna was with her, happily pointing out street performers. Edward's chest tightened at the juxtaposition—the innocence and safety Bella radiated clashed brutally with the ominous threads he had just uncovered.
Edward's resolve sharpened. The letters, the vineyard, the north—they were all part of a larger threat. Whoever this coven was, they were deliberate, strategic, and unafraid.
Edward stepped back into the shadows, his mind turning over the pieces as he prepared to face Aro.
The chamber of the Volturi was steeped in its usual air of authority and menace. Dimly lit and flanked by towering stone columns, the space was cold but alive with tension. Edward stood before the three thrones, his face carefully impassive as Aro, Caius, and Marcus listened intently to his recounting of the courier and the ominous details he had uncovered. The trusted guards of the Volturi stood around them, a silent semicircle of power—Felix, Demetri, Jane, and Alec among them.
Edward's voice was calm but carried a hard edge of determination. "The human was compelled," he explained, his golden eyes sharp. "Not of his own will, but under the thrall of a vampire with an unusual gift. The compulsion was absolute—more commanding than anything I've encountered. Whoever they are, they have influence and, likely, a plan."
Aro rested his chin on steepled fingers, his crimson eyes gleaming with thought. "A fascinating gift, if true," he mused, a note of reluctant admiration in his tone. "To bend a mortal entirely to one's will, with no memory of their true purpose—it would be quite the asset. But I must admit, Edward, I do not recognize this vampire from your description. Perhaps an ally of one of our distant enemies?"
Before Aro could speculate further, Caius interjected, his icy voice cutting through the room like a blade. "If this vampire has a gift strong enough to challenge us, we should not waste time admiring it. They pose a threat to our authority." He leaned forward in his chair, pale fingers curling over its armrests. "We act. Swiftly. Before they have the chance to expand their reach."
Edward nodded, sharing the sentiment. "Agreed. We can speculate all we want, but delaying will only give them more time to cover their tracks. This vampire knew enough to remain hidden; it suggests they understand the Volturi's vigilance. If Demetri tracks them, we can eliminate the threat immediately."
Yes, Demetri can track the man behind the courier through the human, but it wouldn't be entirely straightforward. Here's how it could play out in the story:
Demetri's gift allows him to track anyone once he locks onto their "essence," a unique signature tied to their thoughts and decisions. Though the courier is human and not the direct target, Demetri could track the vampire who compelled him by following the faint residual essence left behind in the courier's mind. When a vampire uses compulsion, especially one with overwhelming intent, it leaves subtle traces of their presence—almost like an imprint on the human's psyche.
Edward, burdened by the courier's fragmented memories, approached Demetri with the information.
"Can you track him?" Edward's tone was clipped, betraying the tension beneath his usually calm exterior.
Demetri considered this for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied the frightened courier standing several paces away, held in place by Felix's vice-like grip.
"Humans aren't my specialty," Demetri admitted. "But if he's been compelled, there might be enough of a trail left to follow."
The tracker moved closer to the man, exuding calm authority even as his crimson eyes gleamed with a faint menace. He reached out, placing a hand on the courier's shoulder, as if comforting a frightened child. The human flinched but didn't dare pull away.
"Relax," Demetri murmured. "I only need a moment."
The room grew still as Demetri focused, his eyes distant. His gift didn't work in a physical sense—there was no scent to trace, no footprints to follow. Instead, he probed the intangible, the faint threads left behind by a presence stronger than the human's. Demetri closed his eyes, and Edward listened carefully to his thoughts.
There it is.
It was faint, a lingering resonance buried deep within the human's mind. A presence colder than fear, darker than desperation. The remnants of compulsion were tied directly to a single individual, and Demetri latched onto it with unerring precision.
"I have him," Demetri said at last, his voice quiet but confident. His hand dropped from the courier's shoulder as if dismissing him entirely. "The one who compelled this poor fool. His essence is still connected through the act of control—faint, but not beyond my reach. I'll need focus to trace it entirely."
Edward frowned. "Is he still nearby?"
"No," Demetri replied, shaking his head. "He's clever. The trail extends far beyond Volterra. He moved north after this man left the last delivery, but he's cautious—changing directions often to stay ahead. It won't stop me, but it will take time."
Felix grinned, his predatory nature on full display. "So we have a hunt, then?"
"Do whatever it takes. Find him."
Aro's gaze shifted to Demetri, who inclined his head in acknowledgment. The tracker spoke with measured confidence. "I've already familiarized myself with the courier's mental and emotional signature. That unique signature is more than enough for me to follow."
Edward couldn't help but feel a momentary spark of reassurance. Demetri's gift was unlike any other—a tracker of unparalleled skill who didn't rely on conventional means of pursuit. With nothing more than a sense of the vampire's essence, Demetri could follow them across oceans, through forests, or into the darkest of hiding places.
Aro clapped his hands lightly, the sound echoing in the chamber. "Splendid! Then it seems we have a plan, does it not? Demetri shall lead the pursuit, and once the quarry is found…" A sharp grin curved his lips. "…we will ensure their demise is swift."
Caius sneered. "Make no mistake, we won't offer mercy. Whoever dares to test our authority will be reminded of why we have ruled for millennia."
Edward's fists clenched at his sides. In his mind, the image of Isabella's carefree laughter from the feast filled his thoughts. He could not allow shadows to linger so close to her. If it came down to it, he would not hesitate. I'll destroy them myself if it means keeping her safe.
A day later, the soft knock at Isabella's door came again, more insistent this time, though still gentle enough not to disturb her rest unnecessarily. The scent of lavender hung heavily in the air, clinging to the warmth of the room—a scent that Sulpicia had chosen for its calming effect, but today, it did little to ease the unease that thickened the atmosphere.
"Bella, my dear," Sulpicia called softly as she entered, her silhouette bathed in the gentle light streaming through the curtains. Isabella was barely visible beneath the covers, a small figure bundled in the softest silks and linens.
The child stirred at the sound, her brown eyes fluttering open, though they lacked their usual brilliance. "Mommy?" she murmured sleepily, blinking against the light before focusing on Sulpicia's familiar figure.
"I'm here," Sulpicia said, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a cool hand on Isabella's forehead. A frown immediately etched itself onto her features. "You're pale, little one. You don't seem well."
"I'm fine," Isabella insisted weakly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips as though she could will Sulpicia's worry away. But her voice was soft and lacked its usual vibrancy. "Just tired."
Sulpicia wasn't convinced. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and within moments she called for Aro. By the time he arrived, Gianna was already in the room, hovering by the doorway, her hands wringing nervously.
Outside, Edward lingered. He had heard the worried tones the moment Sulpicia had called Isabella's name. His heightened hearing had caught each word, and though he told himself to stay put, to wait for more information, his resolve broke the moment Isabella's weak voice filtered through the door.
When he entered, no one noticed at first. His movement was silent, his golden eyes fixed entirely on Isabella. She seemed so small, curled under the covers, her cheeks lacking their usual warmth, her energy so unlike the lively child who had been spinning through the castle halls just days before.
"She's tired, Edward," Sulpicia explained without turning to look at him. "But I've never seen her this… drained before."
Edward's lips pressed into a firm line, guilt creeping into his chest. He stepped closer, his gaze sharp but his voice steady. "It's the feast," he said. "The past days have been demanding on her. Between the excitement, the noise, and her time outdoors with the other children, it's no wonder she's worn out."
"And the blood," he added after a pause, his golden eyes narrowing. "Her diet hasn't been balanced enough to account for her energy expenditure. This is the result."
Sulpicia cast him a sharp glance, her hand brushing through Isabella's tangled curls as if to reassure herself. "I should have seen the signs," she murmured, almost to herself.
"Don't," Edward interrupted softly but firmly. "No one is at fault. We'll address it now."
Sulpicia rose gracefully and crossed to a tray nearby, where a cup of warm blood had been prepared earlier. The crimson liquid glowed faintly in the morning light as she returned to Isabella's bedside.
"Drink this, Bella," she said, her tone taking on an edge of authority despite the gentle worry underlying it.
Isabella hesitated, her small hands wrapping around the cup as she stared into the liquid. Her nose wrinkled slightly, though not with distaste—it was something closer to defiance, a show of independence. But her limbs betrayed her, trembling slightly as she tried to keep her grip steady.
Edward crouched down beside the bed, his gaze softening. "Bella," he said gently, his voice barely more than a whisper. "It's alright"
Her eyes flickered to his, something undecipherable swimming in their depths before she gave a resigned sigh and lifted the cup to her lips. In a practiced motion, she drained it in one go, the way she always did when she was truly tired.
Sulpicia couldn't help the small sigh of relief that escaped her as Isabella handed the empty cup back. "Thank you, darling," she said, brushing her fingers along Isabella's cheek.
"I'm fine now," Isabella announced, sitting up straighter and throwing the covers off dramatically. She fixed each of the adults in the room with a pointed glare, her usual spark of humor flickering to life. "Off you go, people. Stop making such a fuss."
Edward smirked faintly, crossing his arms as he straightened to his full height. "You're as stubborn as ever, I see."
"Where do you think I learned it from?" Isabella replied with an innocent tilt of her head, her expression as mischievous as her tired state allowed.
As the day wore on, Isabella gradually returned to her usual self. She insisted on following her usual routine, brushing off everyone's continued concern. She joined Gianna for her lessons, spending time tracing letters with her small hands and delighting in stories read aloud. Edward remained nearby, keeping a watchful eye even as he pretended not to linger too close.
By mid-afternoon, she was in the gardens, watching the fountains glimmer under the sunlight. Sulpicia observed from a shaded bench, her book forgotten on her lap as she monitored Isabella's every movement.
Edward stood further away, leaning casually against one of the stone columns, though his thoughts were anything but relaxed. He watched Isabella laugh as the fountain's spray caught in the light, forming tiny rainbows. Her resilience was remarkable, but it was also a stark reminder of how fragile her half-vampire state could make her at times.
As Isabella danced among the flowers, she looked back at Edward and waved, her grin wide and infectious. And for a moment, as the sunlight framed her, Edward allowed himself a small, rare smile.
"She's fine now," Sulpicia murmured, stepping beside him.
"Yes," Edward replied quietly. But inwardly, he vowed to make sure her safety was never compromised again.
Progress on whoever is behind the chaos. Please leave a review.