Volterra had always felt like a tomb pretending to be a city — silent stone streets drowning beneath gold sunlight, hiding monsters beneath every shadow. Edward Cullen arrived there ready to die, grief hollowing him out from the inside after believing Bella Swan was gone. He expected cruelty from the Volturi. Judgment. Death. What he didn’t expect was her. The girl standing silently beside Aro’s throne with crimson eyes and a gaze empty enough to unsettle even immortals. Nobody spoke about her power unless forced to. Nobody looked at her too long. Emotionless, unreadable, terrifyingly calm — she was everything Edward should have hated. Instead, against every instinct screaming inside him, he couldn’t stop looking at her.