Her Past is His future

**Prologue 'Part 2' - Primal Magics**

**Rosalie**

A shiver, half fear, half desire, traced its way up my spine. He pulled my body against his, his lean strength a familiar comfort against mine. All my fears from earlier, the ones that had clung to me like a shroud, flittered into the vast, silent night. For a precious, fleeting moment, nothing existed but Edward’s loving gaze, a universe of warmth and promise reflected in his eyes, and the electrifying touch of his hand on my bare skin. We stood there, breath mingling, neither of us allowing to let the other move. This was love in its purest form. My Edward.

Then, the world intruded. Heavy footsteps, slow and deliberate, began to echo up the winding stone staircase from below. My heart, which had been a butterfly against my ribs, plummeted and skipped a beat. My father’s deep, resonant voice followed, weaving through the rising silence of the night, a song that promised both celebration and dread.

“Tonight will be the night…” he crooned, the words carrying a strange, almost manic joy.

“Yes indeed, my love,” Mother’s voice, equally laden with affectionate anticipation, agreed. “It will be a beautiful ceremony…”

“My parents!” I gasped, the dream-like trance shattering. My arms shot out, pushing against Edward’s chest, creating a crucial distance between us. “Quick, we must find our place inside before they reach us!” The urgency was a cold spike of adrenaline. If they found us like this, and not already inside the ritual chambers, the consequences would be dire.

“Yes, we should…” Edward’s smile, though tinged with desire, still managed to be impossibly charming. He pulled open the heavy, oak door that led into the echoing chamber beyond.. “After you, my flower...”

“You must not forget your hood…” I insisted, my voice barely a whisper as I swiftly pulled my own red, concealing hood over my head, tugging the edges low to shadow my face. The coarse wool scratched my forehead, a grounding sensation amidst my rising panic.

“Yes… right, anonymity.” Edward chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest as he mirrored my action. His eyes, now obscured by shadow, still glinted with mischief. “Not that it matters. I believe they will find out who we are soon enough.”

We slipped into the room, the heavy door sighing shut behind us, silencing the world outside. A comforting, yet unsettling, golden glow enveloped us. Torches, their flames a deep, throbbing ember, hung from curved stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to writhe and sway, creating a hypnotic spell.

In the cavernous heart of the chamber, a giant cauldron, perpetually bubbling with an unsettling effervescence, sat atop a simmering firepit of blackened coals. The heat emanating from it was a live thing against my cheeks. Surrounding the pit, forming a delicate, almost fragile, barrier, was an array of glass vials. They varied wildly in size, from delicate thimbles to stout bottles the size of my fist, each one filled with iridescent liquids that shimmered with an inner light, or held unfamiliar, preserved objects suspended within, their purpose chillingly unknown.

Oh, my goodness! My internal gasp was sharp, a desperate gasp for air in this thick, heavy atmosphere. My eyes darted around the room, trying to take in the overwhelming details, to find a sense of purchase.

Thick, blood-red curtains, so heavy they seemed to absorb all light, hung across the tall, narrow windows, completely blocking out the moon’s gentle watch. To our right, a towering wall of bookcases scaled the ceiling, shelves bowed under the weight of centuries. They overflowed with dusty tomes whose bindings crackled with age, fragile parchments that looked as if a breath would turn them to dust, and countless more glass vials, filled with mysterious potions that pulsed with faint, internal glows.

The other participants, shrouded entirely in cloaks identical to ours – long, red, and utterly concealing—had already arrived. They formed a tight, silent ring around the bubbling cauldron, their stillness unnerving. I scanned the crowded space, a rising desperation fuelling my search for any available spot. We eventually found a small, cramped area against the towering bookcase on the far-right side of the room, a sliver of refuge amidst the brooding ritual. Despite our breathless, whispered arrival, no one glanced up to acknowledge us. Their collective focus was consumed by the mysterious, menacing scene before them, their faces, if they had expressions, hidden deep within the shadows of their hoods.

The heavy door creaked open again, a sound that grated on my already frayed nerves, and my heart gave another sickening lurch. And there they were: my mother and father. Their brilliant eyes, usually so sharp and discerning, were alive with an almost feverish excitement, pupils dilated in the dim, pulsing light of the room. They were, objectively, a strikingly beautiful couple, both possessing the same charcoal hair that fell like midnight shadows, the same chiselled, sharp features. Mother’s blue eyes were particularly striking, a vivid, almost unnatural cerulean, and if they had been green, they would have looked like siblings. My gaze lingered on them, and I saw hints of Ella in both—the delicate curve of Mother’s jaw, the elegant line of Father’s brow—and my heart, already so heavy, sank further still.

“Just in time…” Edward teased, his voice a low hum next to my ear, as he straightened his cloak, a subtle gesture of preparedness for the unfolding ceremony.

“Thankfully,” I whispered back, the word barely audible, my throat tight with barely suppressed anxiety.

I glanced once more around the room, a sinking feeling taking root deep in my chest, blooming outwards like a cold, poisonous flower. The sudden, overwhelming urge to take Edward’s hand and simply flee, to allow my instincts to lead us far away from this place, nipped at my heels.

Ella! My mind screamed, my sisters name a panicked, desperate echo. Remember what this ceremony did to Ella!

My gaze, wide with an impending urgency, flickered towards the door, already imagining escape, when my father’s green eyes, shadowed and heavy with an exhaustion that belied his current excitement, met mine. They pierced through the dim light, through the concealing hood, through the very fabric of my thoughts.

“Stay, Rosalie!” His voice, sharp and forceful, commanded inside my head, a direct intrusion that made my teeth clench. “This is an important rite of passage for all Blackwoods!”

“Since when?” I questioned, the words unspoken, but screaming in my mind, my arms crossing defensively over my chest.. “This never existed until now…”

“Since William awakened us!” He grumbled back, the mental thrum of his irritation vibrating against my consciousness.. “And you will be grateful for the power once the ceremony ends.”

Father’s ability to read thoughts was incredibly skilled, a rare and formidable power among warlocks. I despised how easily he used it to keep an omnipresent eye on me and Ella, especially when we were younger. We had learned never to misbehave, never even to think of misbehaving, pretty quickly. Thankfully, only a few warlocks had inherited that invasive ability, and it was never recorded that a witch had ever possessed it, a small comfort in a world full of terrifying magic.

“Father…” I held his piercing gaze, trying to project the depth of my apprehension through our mental link. Images of Ella, gaunt and distant after her own ‘awakening,’ haunted my thoughts, pressing down on me. I exhaled a shallow, tremulous breath, praying he would understand. “I am afraid…”

“I understand, Rosalie...” His tone softened, the rigid edge of his command easing, replaced by a paternal concern that felt, in this moment, almost entirely inadequate. “There is no need to be afraid. Remember, you are a strong and proud Blackwood…”

The words were meant to inspire, but they only served to remind me of the chains of expectation. “Yes, Father.” Dropping my arms to my sides, I exhaled a deep, calming breath, trying to dispel the knot in my stomach.

“This is a very delicate spell,” he warned, his tone now stern, the warmth fading, replaced by the familiar, unyielding authority. “We must be cautious and pay attention.”

“I understand, Father...” I lowered my gaze, breaking our mind link, severing the invasive connection. When Father’s voice was stern, when his thoughts pressed with such finality, there was no use in arguing. It was a lesson learned through years of silent battles and quiet capitulations.

Edward brushed his arm against mine, a gentle, solid pressure that pulled me back from the suffocating grip of my family’s will, back into the present moment. I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch the reassuring shadow of his hood, and all my worries, my doubts, my deep-seated fears, seemed to relax, dissolving under the unspoken promise of his presence. Even after four years of courting, of stolen moments and whispered dreams, I loved him with every fibre of my being, and I knew, with an unwavering certainty, that he loved me just as fiercely.

I can do this... I exhaled another trembling breath, drawing strength from Edward, and then faced the cauldron once more. In my peripheral vision, I noted the chilling symmetry of the room: fifteen couples, arrayed around the central fire, all stiff and unnervingly unmoving, waiting like statues for the ritual to begin.

The door, heavy and ominous, flew open again, this time with a sharp, resonant thud that echoed through the silent chamber. The ragged, slumped figure of William Shires emerged, his dark cloak hanging askew from his bare, muscular shoulders, revealing patches of unnatural pale skin. He looked more like a spectre than the formidable warlock I knew him to be. A collective, almost imperceptible tremor went through the cloaked figures in the room. No one moved. No one spoke. The air became thick, expectant, as he shuffled sluggishly, almost reluctantly, towards the centre of the room, his gaze fixed on the bubbling cauldron.

Father and Mother, having delivered their final, silent command, were not participating in tonight’s awakening ceremony, as they had already undergone the first one years ago. They allowed their gazes to linger on me for a long, heavy moment, a silent weight of expectation, before they finally turned and left, the closing door sealing us within the chamber of the ritual.

“I am grateful you could all attend tonight,” William said, his voice a weary rasp that barely carried across the hushed room. He was not his usual strong, almost arrogant self; the man who usually strode with an air of absolute authority now seemed diminished, as if the life had been leached from him. His eyes, though still bright with an unsettling light, were sunken. “I have returned from my trip abroad with Lord and Lady Blackwood, bringing back the power and potions to complete tonight’s ceremony.”

No one spoke. No one moved. My nerves were on edge, stretched taut, feeding the desperate, gnawing need to simply flee. Even the muscles in my legs twitched with the suppressed desire to run, to allow my feet to lead the way to safety. Yet, ignoring Father’s mental warning, his final, absolute command, would be a terrible, terrifying mistake. The consequences were unimaginable.

“Now, please remain hushed as I recite my magics…” William continued, his voice gaining a strained resonance. He sauntered sluggishly to the cauldron, the movements of his body slow and deliberate, almost painful. With a dramatic flourish that lacked his usual precision, he scooped up a handful of the shimmering vials from the protective ring, their contents glowing faintly, then dropped them carelessly, with a series of clinks and splashes, into the bubbling liquid. A plume of iridescent steam rose, smelling faintly of ancient earth.

I took Edward’s hand, my fingers intertwining with his, seeking solace and strength. The familiar, comforting spark passed between us, a current of warmth and connection that made my heart flutter, pushing back against the encroaching dread. He stood so confident and strong beside me, a bastion against the chaos, and in that moment, I loved him even more fiercely.

This will be our night. I decided, a fierce, tiny spark of defiance in my soul. At that precise moment, I found the courage to stand bravely with him, to face whatever came. Soon, the two of us would be bonded soulmates, not by duty or decree, but by love. Whatever it brought us, whatever power or fate, we would spend the rest of our lives linked together, irrevocably intertwined, and stronger for it.

“I call on the Moon Goddess…” William chanted, his voice beginning to deepen, to reverberate with a nascent power. He held his hands towards the ceiling, towards the unseen heavens beyond the thick curtains. He recited an unfamiliar, rhythmic Latin melody, ancient and haunting, foreign to my ears. The air in the room grew thick, heavy, and oppressive, as if a great, unseen weight had settled upon us, pressing down on my chest, making my lungs work harder.

“I call on the Earth Goddess…” He knelt, slowly, his movements still laboured, and caressed the rough stone ground affectionately, a gesture that seemed both reverent and desperate. “I call to the Goddess of life and energy…” He stood again, his body swaying slightly with the rhythm of his chant, and with a more purposeful motion, tipped two more potent-looking potions into the swirling mix.

The steam intensified, swirling higher, revealing fleeting, ephemeral colours within its depths. Lights, vibrant and otherworldly, began to dance around the cauldron, rising in incandescent tendrils from the bubbling liquid. They swirled and writhed, resembling living serpents of pure energy. One by one, in an eerie, slow precession that coiled around the room, mimicking the movement of a serpent, the torches lining the walls began to burn out, their ember flames sputtering and dying with a soft hiss. With each torch extinguished, the room plunged deeper into shadow, illuminated only by the cauldron’s eerie green glow, which cast ghastly, distorted shadows over the caped, unmoving faces around me. Gasps, hushed and sharp, echoed through the air from the other participants.

The floor wavered, and my entire body shuddered. I tightened my grip on Edward’s hand, clinging to him like a lifeline, my knuckles white. His grip, thankfully, remained firm.

“I call to the Goddess of beasts…” William continued, his voice now a low, guttural rumble, his body swaying more violently, almost uncontrollably, with the rhythm of his fervent chant. He stopped abruptly, his arms outstretched before him, hands open as if to receive an invisible force. A strange, pulsating silver glow surged through his eyes, turning them into twin orbs of cold light, reflecting the chaotic dance of the cauldron.

Then, the world erupted. Animalistic, inhuman howls, deep and primal, erupted from seemingly every direction, tearing through the oppressive silence. Ear-piercing screeches followed, a cacophony of sound that caused waves of nauseating dizziness to wash over me, disorienting me completely. My vision swam, the green light of the cauldron blurring into an emerald haze. I wanted to move, to look around. I was frozen. The screeches continued, each more ear-piercing than the last, causing my ears to ring and everything around me to fade in and out of focus.

“I demand the Goddess of love to come forward!” William shouted forcefully, his voice now a raw, desperate roar that seemed to vibrate through the very stones of the room. “I will the goddess of passion, the Goddess of Fertility and Free Will to show themselves!”

The room shook violently. The quaking was so intense, so unexpected, that it caused Edward’s grip on my hand, my only anchor, to loosen. I shuddered and desperately pleaded for my arms to move, to reach for him, to reclaim his hand. “Edward!”

When I couldn’t feel him beside me, when I couldn’t hear his comforting, solid presence, the tears I had fought so hard to suppress welled in my eyes, hot and stinging, and ran in cold tracks down my cheeks. “Edward, please come back to me!”

“I demand the Goddess of love to show herself!” William roared, his voice echoing through the room.

I was still frozen. The hairs on my arms stood uncomfortably on edge, prickling against my skin. A pressure tightened my chest, sucking my breath from within me. My mind fogged. Where was Edward?

“I summon the power of Mother Wolf to bless us…” William said in a soothing tone, the craziness fading from his face.

I willed my eyes to push through the fog. Slowly, agonizingly, patterns began to emerge. I saw William moving towards me. His eyes were so bright, removing the darkness from his face.

“I summon you all to bless us with the wolf’s life!” he demanded, the soothing tone suddenly shifting into a low, terrifying growl, a sound that seemed to emanate not from his throat, but from the depths of the earth itself.

The whispers, howls, and screeches gradually faded into silence. A hush fell upon the room. The flickering lights slowed and eventually came to a stop. The chaotic energy that had filled the room moments before dissipated into nothingness. For a brief moment, everything seemed still.

“Rosalie...” a voice whispered in my head.

“Who-” A pain shot through my body, knocking me to my knees. “Arh!” I began crying as every bone, muscle, and tendon stretched and cracked beneath my skin. “It hurts... Help me...! Please! Edward!”

“The transition is nearly done.” The voice cooed, so gentle in my mind.

“Make it stop!” I hissed in a coarse cry. Screaming, I collapsed on the floor, my red cloak falling in tatters. “Edward, please help me…!” A howl escaped my lips before the room went dark.