Three months.
Ninety-two days since we'd stood in that clearing and watched the Architects scatter like shadows before dawn. Ninety-two days since Seraphina's golden hair had been stained with blood and dirt, since we'd bound her in Lydia's restraints and sent her to Volterra with Aro's guards. Ninety-two days of peace—fragile, tentative, precious peace.
I'd learned to measure time differently since becoming what I was. Before, days blurred together, marked only by school bells and homework deadlines and the endless, gnawing feeling that I didn't belong anywhere. Now every moment felt precious, weighted with significance, because I knew how easily it could all be taken away.
The Cullens' house had become something more than a home—it was a fortress, a sanctuary, a gathering place for beings who'd spent centuries alone. Mira had her own room now, decorated with books and artifacts from her centuries of isolation, a space that was finally hers. Cassandra had claimed the room next to mine, close enough that she could feel my presence through the bond when nightmares woke her. And Lydia—Cassandra's mother, freed from centuries of stasis—had settled into the guest room at the end of the hall, her ancient eyes slowly losing their haunted look as she healed in her daughter's presence.
Elena, my mother, had become a fixture in our strange household. She trained with us every morning, her guardian experience invaluable as we learned to control our growing powers. She cooked for the Cullens—not because they needed to eat, but because she found comfort in the routine, in the simple act of creating something nourishing. And she watched me with those eyes that held seventeen years of love she couldn't remember giving, making up for lost time with every glance.
And Edward—Edward was my constant, my anchor, my home.
We'd fallen into a rhythm that felt almost domestic, considering the circumstances. Mornings training with Jasper, afternoons studying with Carlisle or Selene, evenings gathered with the family for conversation and companionship. Nights were ours—hours of quiet intimacy, lying together on the window seat, watching the stars wheel slowly across the sky.
"You're thinking too hard," Edward murmured one night, his lips brushing my hair. "I can practically hear the gears turning."
"Can you?" I smiled, tilting my face up to his. "I thought you couldn't read my mind."
"I don't need to. I know you." His golden eyes held mine, warm with a love that still took my breath away. "You're worried about something. What is it?"
I was silent for a moment, trying to put words to the unease that had been building in my chest for weeks.
"It's too quiet," I said finally. "The Architects—we hurt them, but we didn't destroy them. Seraphina's in Volterra, but the others escaped. They're out there somewhere, planning, waiting. And we're just... sitting here."
"We're not sitting. We're training, preparing, building our strength." He turned me to face him fully. "Ellie, you can't fight a war every day. You need moments like this—moments of peace, of connection, of simply being. That's what we're fighting for."
"I know. I just—" I sighed, frustrated with myself. "I can't shake the feeling that something's coming. Something bad."
Edward's expression grew serious. "Have you told Alice?"
"Alice can't see anything involving hybrids, remember? The future's hazy around me, around Mira and Cassandra. If something's coming for us, she won't know until it's too late."
"Then we'll be ready." He pulled me closer, his cold body a comfort against the night chill. "We're not alone anymore, Ellie. We have each other. We have the Cullens, your mother, Mira and Cassandra and Lydia. We have Selene, and through her, connections to ancient powers we're only beginning to understand. Whatever comes, we'll face it together."
I wanted to believe him. Needed to believe him. But the unease remained, a splinter in my mind that I couldn't remove.
The next morning dawned gray and cold, as mornings in Raven's Peak always did. I found Mira in the training clearing, her movements fluid and deadly as she practiced combat forms Jasper had taught her.
"You're up early," I said, settling onto a fallen log to watch.
"Couldn't sleep." She didn't pause, her strikes continuing in a pattern almost too fast to follow. "Too much on my mind."
"Join the club." I watched her for a moment, admiring the grace that came from centuries of practice. "Want to talk about it?"
She stopped, finally, turning to face me. Her amber eyes—so like mine, so like Cassandra's—held shadows I hadn't noticed before.
"It's the dreams," she said quietly. "I've been having them for weeks now. Every night, the same thing."
"What dreams?"
"A woman—beautiful, terrible, with eyes like frozen fire. She stands in a field of blood-red flowers, surrounded by bodies. Hybrid bodies." Mira's voice dropped. "And she's laughing."
My blood ran cold. "The Blood Moon Priestess?"
"I don't know. Maybe." She crossed to sit beside me, her movements weary despite her supernatural grace. "I've been alone for so long, Ellie. Centuries of isolation, of hiding, of trusting no one. And now I have a family, people who care about me—and I'm terrified it's all going to be taken away."
"It won't." I took her hand, squeezing gently. "We won't let it."
"You can't promise that. None of us can." She met my eyes, and in them I saw the weight of centuries. "I've lost everyone I've ever loved. My parents, my guardian, Stefan—all gone. I don't think I could survive losing you too."
"You won't have to." I pulled her into a hug, feeling her cold body tremble against mine. "We're sisters now, Mira. Bonded by blood and choice. Nothing's going to change that."
She held onto me like I was the only solid thing in a shifting world, and for a long moment, we just sat there—two hybrids, connected by destiny, finding strength in each other.
Cassandra found us like that an hour later, her amber eyes bright with curiosity and concern.
"Group hug without me?" she asked, settling onto the log beside us. "Rude."
"Sorry." I laughed, pulling her into our embrace. "We were just having a moment."
"A moment about what?"
Mira and I exchanged glances. Then, quietly, Mira told her about the dreams.
Cassandra's face grew pale as she listened. When Mira finished, she was silent for a long moment.
"I've been having dreams too," she admitted finally. "Not about the Priestess—about my mother. About the centuries she spent in stasis, frozen by the Architects, unable to move or speak or even think. In the dreams, she's screaming, and I can't reach her."
"That's not a dream," Mira said softly. "That's a memory. Her memory, bleeding through the bond."
"I know." Cassandra's voice cracked. "I know it's real. And I know she suffered because of me—because she loved me enough to defy them. How do I ever repay that?"
"You don't." I took her hand, joining it with Mira's. "You just love her back. That's all she ever wanted."
We sat together in silence, three sisters bound by blood and choice, drawing strength from each other's presence. The forest whispered around us, indifferent to our fears, our hopes, our determination to protect what we'd built.
But somewhere in the distance, I felt it—a ripple in the bond, a disturbance in the peace. Something was coming. Something dark.
And it was getting closer.
The message arrived that afternoon.
Alice found us in the library, her usually bright eyes shadowed with something I'd never seen before: fear.
"There's someone here," she said quietly. "A hybrid. Young, male, barely alive. He collapsed at the edge of the forest."
We were moving before she finished speaking, the three of us racing through the trees with vampire speed. Edward and the Cullens followed close behind, their presence a comfort even in crisis.
We found him in a small clearing, curled on the ground like a wounded animal. He was young—sixteen, maybe seventeen—with dark hair matted with blood and skin so pale it was almost translucent. His amber eyes fluttered open as we approached, focusing on me with desperate intensity.
"You're her," he whispered. "Eleanor. The one who defeated the Architects."
"I'm Eleanor." I knelt beside him, my guardian senses cataloging his injuries. Severe blood loss, multiple wounds, exhaustion so deep it was a wonder he was still conscious. "Who are you? What happened?"
"Kaelen." His voice was barely audible. "The sanctuary—they attacked the sanctuary. Everyone—" He choked, tears streaming down his face. "Everyone's dead. I'm the only one who got out."
"Sanctuary?" Mira's voice was sharp. "What sanctuary?"
"The hybrid sanctuary. In the Carpathians." Kaelen's eyes found hers. "We'd heard about you—about all of you. The sisters who defeated the Architects. We were going to reach out, ask for help. But they found us first."
"Who?" Cassandra demanded. "Who attacked you?"
Kaelen's face twisted with fear and rage. "The Blood Moon Priestess. And her army. They came at dawn, when the moon was still red. They killed everyone—the children, the elders, the guardians who tried to protect us. I ran. I ran for days. And now—" His voice broke. "Now I'm the last."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence. I looked at Mira, at Cassandra, and saw my own horror reflected in their eyes.
"There were others," I said slowly. "Other hybrids. And they're all dead?"
"All except me." Kaelen's eyes closed, exhaustion finally claiming him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I couldn't save them."
He lost consciousness then, his body finally succumbing to the wounds he'd been fighting for days. Carlisle moved forward, his ancient hands gentle as he examined the boy.
"He needs blood," he said quietly. "Human blood, to heal. And rest—weeks of it, maybe months. His body has been pushed beyond its limits."
"Then we give him what he needs." I looked at Edward, at the Cullens, at my sisters. "We save him. And then we find out everything he knows about the Blood Moon Priestess."
Kaelen slept for three days.
We took turns watching him, monitoring his progress, waiting for him to wake. Carlisle and Elena worked together to heal his wounds, using a combination of vampire blood and guardian techniques that pushed both their skills to the limit.
When he finally opened his eyes, Mira was at his bedside.
"Easy," she said softly, as he tried to sit up. "You're safe now. You're with friends."
"The sanctuary—" His voice was hoarse, desperate.
"Gone. I know." Mira's face was gentle but honest. "You told us before you collapsed. I'm so sorry."
Kaelen's face crumpled. For a long moment, he just lay there, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Then, slowly, he pulled himself together—the way survivors learn to do, compartmentalizing grief to keep functioning.
"The Priestess," he said finally. "You need to know about her. What she's planning."
"Tell us." I'd entered while he was speaking, Cassandra close behind me. "Everything."
Kaelen took a shaky breath. "She's not just hunting hybrids—she's collecting them. The sanctuary was the third one she's attacked in the past year. Each time, she takes survivors. Not kills them—takes them. We don't know where or why."
"Takes them where?" Edward asked.
"We don't know. But there are rumors—whispers from the few who've escaped. She's building something. An army, maybe. Or something worse." Kaelen's eyes met mine. "She knows about you. About all three of you. She talks about you like you're the key to everything."
"The key to what?"
"I don't know. But I know someone who might." He struggled to sit up, ignoring Mira's restraining hand. "There's a vampire—ancient, older than the Architects. He was there at the beginning, when the first hybrids were born. If anyone knows what the Priestess is really after, it's him."
"Who is he?" Carlisle asked.
"Darius." Kaelen's eyes found Edward, and something flickered in them—recognition, maybe, or surprise. "He knew you, once. A long time ago."
The room went very still. Edward's face, usually so controlled, went pale—paler than usual.
"Darius," he repeated. "That's impossible. He died—"
"Did you see him die?" Kaelen's voice was gentle but firm. "Did you see his body, watch it turn to dust?"
Edward was silent. I reached for his hand, feeling the tension radiating from him.
"Who is Darius?" I asked quietly.
"A vampire I knew. Before Carlisle." Edward's voice was barely above a whisper. "He found me after I was turned, when I was still feral, still dangerous. He taught me to control the hunger, to survive without killing. If it weren't for him, I would have died—or become a monster."
"What happened to him?"
"I don't know. One day he was there, the next he was gone. I searched for years, but there was no trace. I assumed the Volturi had found him, or the Architects, or—" He shook his head. "I thought he was dead."
"He's not." Kaelen's voice was certain. "He's been in hiding for centuries, watching, waiting. He knows things—things that could help us stop the Priestess. But he won't come to us. We have to go to him."
"Where is he?"
"The Carpathians. Near the site of the sanctuary. He has a stronghold there, hidden from everyone—even the Architects." Kaelen met my eyes. "I can take you. If you're willing to go."
I looked at Edward, at Mira and Cassandra, at the family gathered around us. The Carpathians were dangerous—more dangerous than anywhere we'd been. The Architects still had agents there. The Blood Moon Priestess was hunting in the region. And now we were talking about walking into the heart of it all.
But Kaelen was right. If Darius held the key to stopping the Priestess, we had to find him.
"We'll go," I said. "All of us."
The next few days were a blur of preparation.
Jasper drilled us relentlessly, pushing our combat skills to new heights. Selene shared everything she knew about the Carpathians, about the ancient powers that lurked there, about the dangers we'd face. Lydia, still recovering from her centuries of stasis, insisted on coming—to protect Cassandra, she said, though I suspected she also wanted to face the Architects' legacy one last time.
Elena would stay behind to guard the house, along with Esme and Rosalie. The rest of us—the three hybrids, Edward, Carlisle, Jasper, Emmett, Alice, Selene, and Lydia—would make the journey.
The night before we left, I found Edward on the porch, staring at the stars.
"Nervous?" I asked, settling onto the swing beside him.
"Terrified." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Darius—he was like a father to me. The only father I had before Carlisle. And I thought he was dead for a century. Now I find out he's been alive all this time, hiding, and I never knew."
"He had his reasons."
"I'm sure he did. But that doesn't make it hurt less." He turned to look at me, his golden eyes bright with unshed tears. "I've lost so many people, Ellie. My human family, my human life, everyone I loved before I was turned. Darius was the first person who showed me that I could be something other than a monster. And then he vanished."
"Maybe he was trying to protect you." I took his hand, feeling the familiar cold. "Maybe he knew that being near him would put you in danger."
"Maybe." He was silent for a moment. "But it still hurts. Knowing he was out there, alone, while I built a new life without him."
"That's not your fault."
"I know. But knowing and feeling are different things." He pulled me close, burying his face in my hair. "I'm glad you're coming with me. I don't think I could face this alone."
"You're not alone." I held him tight, feeling the weight of his centuries pressing down on both of us. "You'll never be alone again."
We left at dawn, traveling east toward the rising sun.
The journey would take days—weeks, maybe, depending on what we found. The Carpathians were far, and Darius's stronghold was hidden deep in the mountains, protected by ancient magic and centuries of secrecy.
Kaelen led the way, his hybrid strength recovered enough to keep pace with us. He moved like someone who'd spent his life running—which, I realized, he had. The sanctuary had been his home for years, the only safe place he'd ever known. And now it was gone, destroyed by the same force we were hunting.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, as we paused to rest at midday. "About your sanctuary. About your family."
He looked at me, his amber eyes ancient and young at the same time. "They weren't my family by blood. But they were the only family I ever had. And now they're gone."
"You have a new family now." I gestured at Mira and Cassandra, at the Cullens, at all of us. "We're not much, but we're here. And we're not going anywhere."
Kaelen's eyes widened, something like hope flickering in their depths. "You mean that?"
"I mean it." I smiled. "Welcome to the clan. It's weird, it's chaotic, and it's absolutely terrifying. But it's home."
For the first time since we'd met him, Kaelen smiled—a real smile, small but genuine.
"Home," he repeated. "I like the sound of that."
We traveled for seven days, through forests and mountains, across borders that meant nothing to creatures like us. The landscape changed slowly—the familiar greens of Washington giving way to the harsher, older terrain of Eastern Europe. The air grew colder, the nights longer, the shadows deeper.
On the seventh night, we reached the Carpathians.
They rose before us like sleeping giants, their peaks lost in clouds, their slopes covered in ancient forest. Somewhere in those mountains, Darius waited. And somewhere, hunting in the darkness, the Blood Moon Priestess gathered her forces.
"We're close," Kaelen said quietly. "Another day, maybe two. His stronghold is hidden in a valley between two peaks—you can't see it from above, can't find it without someone who knows the way."
"Then it's a good thing we have you." I looked at our group—weary but determined, scared but resolute. "Everyone ready?"
Nods all around. Even Selene, ancient and powerful, looked grave.
"Then let's go."
We entered the forest, and the darkness closed around us like a living thing.
The valley was exactly where Kaelen had said it would be—hidden between two peaks, invisible from above, accessible only through a narrow pass that seemed designed to discourage visitors. Ancient trees crowded the slopes, their branches intertwining to block out the sky. The air was thick with the weight of centuries, with secrets and sorrows and the lingering presence of those who'd come before.
Darius's stronghorn was built into the mountainside—a fortress carved from living rock, its walls blending so perfectly with the stone that we almost missed it. Only Kaelen's guidance led us to the entrance, a narrow crack that opened into darkness.
"He's inside," Kaelen whispered. "I can feel him."
I reached out with the bond, searching for any sign of danger. Nothing—just the steady presence of my sisters, the familiar warmth of Edward's love, the ancient weight of the mountain pressing down on us.
"We go in together," I said. "Slowly. Carefully. And we don't separate for any reason."
One by one, we slipped through the crack and into the darkness beyond.
The tunnels were ancient—older than anything I'd ever seen. The walls were carved with symbols that predated human writing, images of vampires and hybrids and beings that looked like neither. The air was still and cold, heavy with the weight of millennia.
We walked for what felt like hours, following the tunnel deeper into the mountain. The bond pulsed with each step, warning me of dangers I couldn't see, guiding me toward something I couldn't name.
And then, suddenly, the tunnel opened into a vast chamber.
It was circular, perhaps a hundred feet across, with a ceiling that disappeared into shadow. In the center stood a figure—tall, dark-haired, with eyes the color of aged gold. He watched us approach with an expression I couldn't read.
"Darius." Edward's voice was barely a whisper.
The figure smiled—a sad, knowing expression that held centuries of pain.
"Hello, Edward," he said. "It's been a long time."
End of Chapter One