Evening – Forks, Washington
The sky had turned a deep indigo as twilight settled over the forest. A soft drizzle began to fall, the scent of damp earth filling the air. Desmond stood atop a rocky cliff overlooking the woods, his hoodie soaked, fists clenched.
He had felt it again.
That pulse. That ancient, unnatural whisper from within him. Ever since the witch's rune stone shattered in Leona's hand, it hadn't stopped. It was like something was stirring—something that had been locked away for ages.
Elias stood a few feet behind him, arms crossed. "You feel it again?"
Desmond didn't answer immediately. "It's getting stronger. Whatever's inside me… it's waking up."
Elias stepped closer, the rain rolling off his jacket. "The witches aren't the only ones who'll notice."
Desmond turned, brow furrowed. "The Volturi?"
Elias nodded grimly. "They don't like anything they can't control. Especially something that messes with the balance."
Desmond's eyes narrowed. "Then it's only a matter of time."
Night – Somewhere in Italy
A stone hall filled with echoes.
Aro sat still, unmoving, his eyes closed, fingers pressed to the armrest of his chair. Then, suddenly, he exhaled and opened his eyes.
"He's awakened," he whispered.
Caius leaned forward, skeptical. "Who?"
"The boy." Aro's lips curled into a dangerous smile. "The one touched by shadow and flame. He's more than anomaly… he's prophecy."
Marcus, silent for hours, finally spoke. "If he lives… the foundation cracks."
Back in Forks – Elias' Cabin
Leona dropped a pile of aged books on the wooden table. "We have to figure out what kind of being can break an ancient witch stone by simply existing."
Desmond was flipping through his own notes—handwritten over the years, fragments of memory from his past life, bits he remembered from the Twilight books, and things that didn't quite fit.
"The Children of the Moon," he muttered. "Wolves. But… they're not the same as the shape-shifters in La Push."
Elias nodded. "Exactly. The tribe near Forks, they're shifters tied to spirits. But the Children of the Moon? They're something older. Cursed by the moon, true werewolves, unpredictable—and hunted by the Volturi."
Desmond ran a hand through his wet hair. "Then why did they save me?"
Leona leaned against the table. "Maybe they see something in you. Or maybe they fear what you'll become."
A pause. Then Desmond spoke, voice low, serious.
"I'm done waiting. I need to move."
Elias raised a brow. "Move where?"
"La Push."
Elias looked like he was about to argue, but he didn't. Instead, he nodded once. "Be careful. You may know the story—but it doesn't mean they'll act the same."
Desmond smirked slightly. "That's why I'll think three moves ahead."
La Push – Hours Later
The waves crashed against the cliffs as Desmond stepped off his motorcycle and looked into the dense woods.
Someone was watching him.
A figure moved from the trees—large, broad-shouldered, tattooed.
"Jacob Black," Desmond said under his breath. He'd recognize that face anywhere.
Jacob stepped closer, cautious. "You're not from around here."
Desmond offered a small smile. "No. But I think you and I have something in common."
Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Why are you really here?"
Desmond's gaze didn't flinch. "Because I think the world is about to change. And I want to know which side you'll be on when it does."