We pulled up in front of the Cullen house just as the forest light shifted, late afternoon bleeding slowly into that eternal Forks twilight. The house looked the same as always, all glass and clean lines tucked too neatly into the trees, like it didn't quite belong to the world around it.
Alice reached for the door handle.
I caught her wrist gently. "Wait."
She blinked at me, confused for half a second, then let her hand fall back into her lap.
"I've got this," I said.
I stepped out, shut the car door, and walked up to the front porch. The wood beneath my boots barely creaked, even though it should have. Everything about this place was built to accommodate creatures that didn't make noise.
I knocked.
Almost immediately, the door opened.
Esme Cullen stood there, warm smile already in place, eyes soft and welcoming like she'd been expecting guests all along. The house behind her smelled faintly of clean wood, flowers, and the unmistakable vampire scent.
I cleared my throat and put on my absolute best kid voice. The one that belonged on a playground, not in front of a centuries-old vampire matriarch.
"Hello, Mrs. Cullen," I said politely. "Can Edward come out to play?"
For half a second, Esme's lips twitched.
Then her eyes crinkled at the corners as she fought it, pressing her mouth into a thin line like she was trying very hard to be responsible.
"Why, of course, Mike," she said, playing along beautifully. "Let me call him."
She turned her head toward the staircase and raised her voice. "Edward! Mike's here to play!"
That was as far as her composure lasted.
She laughed, bright and genuine, the sound filling the house like music finally let loose. From upstairs came Emmett's booming laughter, loud enough that I could practically feel it vibrating through the walls. Somewhere behind me, Alice snorted softly, shaking her head in amused disbelief.
When Edward appeared at the top of the stairs, his posture was rigid, his expression carefully neutral. He was trying very hard to look long-suffering and dignified.
But his lip betrayed him, twitching again and again.
He descended the stairs with measured steps, eyes flicking briefly toward Esme, who was still smiling far too innocently, then to Alice, who was openly grinning now, and finally to me.
"Mike," he said, voice controlled. "What do you want?"
I didn't answer right away. I just jerked my head toward the forest, where the trees stood dense and quiet, shadows pooling between trunks.
"Let's walk?" I suggested.
He studied me for a moment, then nodded once.
We didn't say anything as we stepped off the porch and into the trees. The forest swallowed sound quickly, needles crunching softly beneath our feet, damp earth releasing that deep, rich smell of moss and rain. Birds flitted overhead, wings whispering. The air felt heavier here, thicker, like the woods were listening.
We walked at a normal pace. No supernatural speed. No rushing.
It felt intentional.
Like we both knew the conversation couldn't start until the house was well behind us.
When the Cullen home was nothing but a vague shape through the trees, Edward finally spoke.
"If this is you trying to stop me from leaving," he said quietly, "it won't work."
I stopped walking.
He took two more steps before realizing I wasn't beside him anymore. He turned, brows knitting slightly.
I looked at him straight on. "Do you think you'll be happy away from Bella?"
The question hit harder than I expected. I could see it in his face. The way his jaw tightened. The way his shoulders sagged just a fraction.
He exhaled slowly.
"No," he admitted. "But she'll be safer without me."
I tilted my head. "She could also be safe if you turned her."
That did it.
Edward's eyes hardened instantly, something sharp flashing behind them.
"Turn her?" he snapped. "Into a soulless monster? Condemn her to a cursed existence?"
I didn't raise my voice. I just held his gaze.
"Is that really what you think of your family?" I asked calmly. "That they're monsters?"
He hesitated.
"Sweet Alice," I continued, nodding back toward the house. "Always cheering everyone up, always trying to help. Jasper, who fights himself every single day and still shows restraint. Emmett, who has the heart and honesty of a kid most of the time."
I paused, then added, "Rosalie… well, Rosalie is Rosalie."
Edward huffed despite himself.
"Esme," I went on. "Who treats everyone like they're her children. Carlisle, who gave you a second chance, a life, a family. Who never stopped believing you could be more."
I stepped closer. "Do you seriously see them as monsters?"
Edward's eyes widened.
His mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He closed it again, swallowing hard.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "That's what I thought."
For a moment, all I could hear was the forest. Wind through branches. The distant tap of something moving across bark.
Then Edward spoke again, voice lower now.
"I've killed people, Mike."
I didn't interrupt.
"There was a time," he continued, "when I left the coven. When I fed on humans."
He looked away, shame etched deep into his features. "I don't deserve her."
I studied him for a second, then asked, already knowing the answer, "What kind of people?"
Edward hesitated, then said, "I read their minds first. Every time. Murderers. Rapists. People who had already destroyed lives."
I nodded slowly.
"You know," I said, "if I could read minds and came across people like that, I'd have a really hard time stopping myself."
I met his eyes again. "Actually, no. I'd almost certainly kill them."
He flinched slightly.
"Do you think that makes me a monster?" I asked.
Edward's shoulders slumped. He looked down at the forest floor, voice barely above a whisper.
"No," he said. "You're a good person, Mike."
"So are you," I replied without hesitation.
The words hung between us, heavy and unavoidable.
And for the first time since we started walking, Edward didn't argue back.
…
Edward ran a hand through his hair, fingers dragging hard enough to tug at it.
"But what about her soul, Mike?" he asked quietly. "We might not be evil monsters, but we're still cursed."
The word lingered between us, heavy and bitter.
I didn't answer right away. I stared past him, at the trees, at the way the forest seemed endlessly alive, every leaf and root humming with quiet purpose. Then I took a slow breath.
"I never told you this," I said carefully, "but I can walk as a spirit."
Edward blinked.
I turned back to him. "Not metaphorically. Literally. I can leave my body behind and move with just my soul. It was the original ability of the Quileute tribe, until someone lost his body doing it and asked a wolf to share his."
His expression shifted from grief to confusion. "That's… that's not possible."
"I know what it sounds like," I replied. "But when I'm like that, I can feel other people's spirits. Their presence. Their shape. Their weight."
I hesitated, then met his eyes. "How about I do it now?"
Edward stiffened. "You mean right here?"
"Yes," I said. "I'll leave my body. I'll feel your soul. When I come back, you can read my mind and feel what I felt by yourself."
He stared at me for a long moment, disbelief written all over his face. "Is there really such a thing as a soul you can touch?"
"I wouldn't offer if there wasn't," I said.
Silence stretched. Finally, Edward nodded once, sharp and decisive. "All right."
I moved to the base of a thick cedar and lowered myself to the ground, leaning my back against its trunk. The bark was cold and rough through my jacket. Familiar. Grounding.
"Just… don't let anything happen to my body," I muttered.
Edward gave a humorless smile. "I think I can manage that."
I closed my eyes.
I focused inward, on that familiar pull, that loosening sensation I had known my whole life. The world slipped sideways. Weight vanished.
Then freedom hit me.
It always did.
My senses exploded outward, sharper, purer. I felt the forest like it was an extension of myself. Roots burrowed deep into the earth, trees stretching skyward, the slow breathing of the world itself. There was no cold, no heaviness, no pain.
It was intoxicating.
For a moment, I almost forgot why I had done this.
Then I turned my attention to Edward.
He stood exactly where I had left him, staring down at my body with visible confusion. My physical form looked wrong from this perspective. Empty. Like a shell someone had stepped out of and forgotten. It was still breathing, as if asleep, but I could feel its emptiness.
I drifted closer to him and reached out with my senses.
And felt absolutely nothing.
No warmth. No resonance. No echo.
It was like staring at a chair.
At a statue.
At a machine that had learned how to move convincingly.
"No," I thought immediately. "No, no, no."
I pushed harder, focusing deeper, searching desperately for anything. A spark. A flicker. Even the faintest trace of a spirit.
But there was nothing.
Edward Cullen did not have a soul.
Panic slammed into me.
How was that possible?
How could something that spoke, that loved, that suffered so deeply be empty like that?
Then the answers started lining up, one after another, cruel and logical.
They didn't breathe.
They didn't bleed.
Their hearts didn't beat.
They didn't age. They didn't grow. They were frozen, locked forever into the moment they were turned.
They didn't even truly live the way living things did.
But did that make them monsters?
Did that make them less?
My thoughts spiraled.
What am I going to tell him?
I can't let him see this.
I pulled back fast, retreating from the forest, from the endless living hum, slamming myself back into my body like diving into ice.
My eyes snapped open.
I sucked in a breath I didn't need but desperately wanted, heart pounding as if I had run miles.
Edward was watching me intently. "Well?" he demanded. "What did you see?"
Panic took over.
Before he could read my thoughts, I started singing in my head as loudly as I possibly could.
You know the rules and so do I~
Edward groaned. "Mike. Seriously?"
I clamped down harder.
I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling~
"Stop that," he said irritably. "What did you see?"
I doubled down.
Gotta make you understand~
Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna turn around and desert you~
Edward froze.
Slow realization dawned on his face. His expression collapsed into something hollow and resigned.
"You didn't find anything," he said softly. "Did you?"
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
"I don't have a soul," he continued. Not angry. Not shocked. Just tired. "I never did."
He turned away from me and took a step toward the trees.
"Edward, wait!" I shouted, scrambling to my feet. "You can't tell your family. This would destroy them."
He didn't stop.
"And this doesn't change who you are," I added desperately. "It doesn't define you."
"It does," he replied, voice flat. "It proves what I've always feared."
He glanced back once, eyes dark and distant. "I'm no better than a machine."
He hesitated. "I won't tell them," he said quietly. "But I can't stay. I just can't."
Then he was gone, vanishing into the forest without sound.
I stood there alone, the silence crushing.
My shoulders sagged. The adrenaline drained out of me all at once, leaving only exhaustion and dread.
I had come here to change things.
To fix something.
Instead, I had confirmed his worst fear.
I stared at the empty space where Edward had been and swallowed hard.
What was he going to do now, knowing the truth?
And what had I just set in motion?
…
(I'm back! My sleeping schedule was completely destroyed by new year's celebrations, and my body aches everywhere even though I barely moved. I'm officially old... Alright, you know the drift, support with power stones, comments or whatever. 🐢🎶)