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Nate clenched his jaw, impatience carving a tense shadow across his face.
"Who has the ability, and what can they do?" he asked, his voice clipped, restrained, leaving no room for detours.
Before Stefan could open his mouth, a small movement caught Nate's attention: one of the newborns shuddered almost reflexively. Still kneeling, his eyelids pressed tight as if he'd rather not see the world around him. He was blond; at first glance, perhaps just another young face among many, but as Nate looked closer, he noticed the boy was somewhat tall—almost Nate's own height, though lankier—with a nervous tension that made him stand out against the forced docility of the others.
Nate didn't linger long on him before shifting his gaze back to Stefan.
Stefan, who had noticed Nate's focus, seized the moment to speak, his tone pragmatic and proud, the one he used when he wanted attention.
"It took us some time to realize what his gift was, because of its nature. Perhaps, if less experienced vampires than we had been training him, they wouldn't have noticed how special he really is…" He paused, weighing the effect of his words on the audience. "It took us a while to observe it, but we believe his gift could prove useful. We haven't named it yet, but we think it's something akin to a shield…"
Nate gave a slight nod, absorbing every detail with the precision of someone evaluating resources and risks. His eyes returned to the blond newborn with clinical interest, as though he wished to pierce beneath the surface and uncover whatever secrets might be hidden there.
He raised a brow, more intrigued than satisfied.
"Be specific…"
Stefan flashed a crooked smile—that blend of challenge and satisfaction he enjoyed when he had something to boast about.
"Why don't you test it yourself? … Try to attack him."
The words made the blond boy lift his head in alarm. His eyes gleamed for an instant, filled with a fear so pure it became tangible. Nate noticed how the girl named Bree and the boy who had seemed ready to defend her when Nate had approached earlier reacted at once, lifting their eyes to watch nervously.
Nate made a mental note of the detail: among the newborns, there wasn't true cohesion, but there were small bonds, budding ties. Groups, affinities—almost miniature covens within the larger whole. Useful information, stored away without halting his analysis.
He turned back to the blond and began walking toward him. His steps were steady, deliberate, projecting dominance. But after only a few strides, something made him halt abruptly. A flicker of confusion crossed his face.
The very idea of approaching the boy became unpleasant, a visceral rejection rising from somewhere deep inside. It wasn't logical, it wasn't natural—but it struck him with force. He clenched his teeth and shoved the sensation aside, advancing again.
The blond, in turn, spiraled into visible panic. And with his fear, the sensation in Nate intensified. The boy hadn't changed in appearance—no shift in his face or body—but being near him felt repulsive, like walking through a hallway thick with garbage and rotting air, suffocating enough to make anyone instinctively veer away.
Nate's scowl deepened. He took another step. The revulsion grew sharper. Another, and the feeling pressed so hard against him it was as though he were fighting against an invisible wall.
With a grimace of effort and narrowed eyes, Nate forced his mind shut against distractions. He did it the same way he had often blocked Edward when he didn't want his thoughts read. He strangled the discomfort, tightened every fiber of his will, and focused only on moving forward.
It cost him more effort than he would ever admit to anyone, but step by step, he made progress. The air seemed to thicken around him, the invisible weight bowing down on his shoulders, and still he trudged on, like someone wading through a swamp, dragging his feet.
Finally, he stood before the blond.
The boy, still on his knees, dropped his gaze in sudden submission. Fear was etched into every line of his face, yet the rejection Nate had felt evaporated in an instant, as if it had never been there at all.
The tension dissolved as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only a thick, expectant silence behind.
That silence broke with a sharp laugh and solitary applause from Stefan.
"Hahaha! You never fail to exceed our expectations, Nathaniel… Not even we could get too close to him. At least, not when he wasn't distracted…"
Nate tore his gaze from the blond and fixed it coldly on Stefan.
"So you haven't disciplined him properly?"
Stefan shook his head, almost amused.
"It's difficult for us to get near him. At first, we didn't notice until the individual training sessions began. Whenever we tried to strike him, we were overcome with that wave of disgust. Vladimir noticed weeks later and guessed it must be his gift. That's when we started experimenting… It isn't active all the time. We managed to hit him when he was distracted—eating or lost in thought."
Nate absorbed each word with cold attention, then turned back to the boy.
"How much control do you have over it?"
The blond grew increasingly uncomfortable, and Nate could sense the unpleasant aura creeping back into the air.
"Not much, really… It only works when I want people to leave me alone…" the boy murmured, his voice low and trembling.
Nate narrowed his eyes, analyzing every nuance. Then he raised his voice for all to hear.
"Was anyone here immune to that effect?"
A heavy silence followed. No one moved—until two hands lifted: Bree's and the boy who had seemed ready to defend her.
Bree spoke, her light stammer breaking through, nervous but firm:
"At first we couldn't get close… but after we became friends, we stopped feeling that horrible sensation…"
The other boy who had raised his hand nodded slowly, confirming her words.
Nate noted this carefully, his thoughts working quickly as he weaved hypotheses. Finally, in an inquisitive tone, he addressed the blond again.
"Are they your only friends? When you feel that need to be left alone… do you feel it with them as well?"
The boy looked confused by Nate's words, but shook his head at last.
"No… not with them anymore…"
Nate nodded slowly, as if each motion confirmed the conclusions already forming in his mind. The blond's ability was more useful than it first appeared: with the right strategy, it could become a decisive asset.
He nodded again, this time with veiled satisfaction, different from the coldness with which he had approached. He turned on his heel and walked back toward Stefan until he stopped abruptly.
"What's your name?" he asked the blond, his tone detached, almost mechanical, without turning to look at him.
The boy hesitated, swallowing hard before finally answering in a faint voice:
"Fred…"
Nate heard him perfectly but said nothing more. He merely gave a slight nod before facing Stefan again.
"Study Fred's abilities more thoroughly. I don't believe it's a shield per se, but for now, we can call it that. Also, I want him to improve his self-control. Pair him with Bree for training… they seem to get along, and she may help him restrain himself better."
As he spoke, other words formed in his mind, aimed with precision at Edward for him to catch.
Ifhe improves his gift, that boy could prove useful to protect Bella or Charlie… Keep track of his thoughts and evaluate how well he controls his temperament.
Edward flinched faintly, a flicker of surprise flashing across his features before he concealed it quickly. He nodded naturally, fixing his attention on Fred, filtering every thought with the caution of someone assessing an unknown weapon. If that newborn truly could become an extra layer of protection for Bella, he needed to confirm it—or rule him out as yet another danger.
In the midst of that silent tension, the sudden sound of Edward's phone shattered the air, making several of those present tense instantly. Frowning, Edward prepared to send the call to voicemail—but his expression shifted the moment he saw the name on the screen: Alice.
The weight of suspicion crashed into Edward's stomach. If Alice was calling, it wasn't frivolous, nor a simple warning. This had to be something that couldn't wait. Fearing the worst, he stepped away from the group with measured steps, trying to remain calm before the newborns. The device still vibrated in his hand when he lifted it to his ear.
He answered softly, his voice barely more than a strained murmur.
"Alice?"
Nate, mid-conversation with Stefan, lifted his head as if catching the scent of fresh blood. The exchange halted. His eyes sharpened, predatory, all his attention zeroed on Edward. His hearing stretched taut, catching every syllable spilling through the receiver.
Alice's voice, urgent in a way she rarely was, broke through the line:
"Where are you? Quickly!"
Edward felt the muscles in his face tighten. Alice never raised her voice. She was usually the calm in the storm, even when everything else collapsed.
He glanced toward Nate, gauging his reaction. Nate gave only a curt nod—a silent order: answer truthfully, without delay.
"We're in the forest near Port Angeles, with Nate's group…"
On the other end, Alice let out a quick sigh—but instead of reassurance, it sounded like borrowed breath, fractured by haste. Her next words fell like a hammer blow:
"You must return as soon as possible! A few minutes ago, I stopped seeing you in my visions…"
The world seemed to freeze. Edward went rigid. Stopped seeing them? That didn't happen. Alice could lose details, could misinterpret the speed of events, but she didn't lose sight of people entirely. That was her certainty. That was her foundation.
He opened his mouth to ask, struggling to process the phrase, but before he could speak, Nate moved. He was a blur, a flash of pure speed. In an instant, he was in front of Edward, gripping his forearm with such iron force it drove him back a step.
With an authority sharp enough to chill colder than winter itself, Nate barked an order that thundered through the clearing:
"Head farther north! You will run half a day forward and then return!"
The newborns glanced at one another, bewildered. Their young faces mirrored fear and confusion. None understood the instruction, and murmurs of uncertainty began to spread.
Stefan, however, needed no explanations. He sensed the shift in Nate, the invisible threat. Narrowing his eyes, calculating, he raised his voice with unyielding force:
"Didn't you hear?! Move!"
He didn't wait for them to react—he was the first to surge north at full speed. As if his example snapped the others from inertia, several followed without hesitation.
Others, however, remained frozen, stunned, as if waiting for clarification.
Nate's expression hardened, twisted into a mask of pure, icy wrath. He took a single step toward them, and that silent threat was enough. Panic jolted them, and without daring to look back, the stragglers bolted, sprinting after the pack.
Dragged by Nate's unyielding grip, Edward barely managed to keep his balance. Confusion boiled in his chest, unbearable. He couldn't hold back the question:
"I don't understand… what's happening? Why can't Alice see us?"
Nate didn't ease his pace, pulling him like an iron chain. His voice cut sharply, every word heavy with gravity:
"This has only happened before when we encountered a werewolf… But if Alice is faltering now, then there's a strong chance we're about to face a Quileute…"