"So," Edward said quietly, "you are still alive?"
A pause.
"I am," the voice replied. "Much to your dismay, I believe."
Edward's lips curled. He knew that voice. A presence that had once hovered above everything.
"The Goddess," he said. "Or should I call you the author?"
Silence answered him—then a soft exhale.
"I remember our exchanges in my last life," Edward continued. "You always acted weak. Innocent. As if you were not in power when you were the one pulling the strings."
"I did no such thing," she said sharply. Then softer, shakier. "Believe whatever you wish."
He noticed it. The weakness. The strain.
"Why speak to me now?" he asked. "Last time, you only appeared when you feared I was close to bringing her back. Am I close again?" He smiled. "Does that worry you?"
"She will not come back to you," the voice snapped. "She was never yours to begin with."
Edward stood so fast his chair crashed to the floor.
"Never mine?" he repeated, voice rising. "You lie."
