The streets of Mumbai pulsed with their eternal symphony: the aromatic dance of pav bhaji and cutting chai wrestling with diesel fumes, the orchestral chaos of honking horns, and somewhere in the distance, a Bollywood number trying valiantly to rise above the urban cacophony. Veer Bhosle navigated through it all with practiced ease, his laptop bag cutting through the evening crowd like a sleek predator, earbuds delivering the perfect soundtrack to his mental weekend itinerary.
*Friday night? Chill at Arjun's place—maybe finally beat him at FIFA. Saturday? Cricket with the boys, where I'll pretend my batting average isn't embarrassing. Sunday? Sleep like a man who's successfully avoided all adult responsibilities for another week.*
His perfectly choreographed thoughts shattered like glass against concrete when a child's shriek pierced the evening air.
Veer's head snapped up, his actor's instincts—honed from years of college theater and an unfortunate tendency to quote dialogues at inappropriate moments—immediately cataloging the scene before him. A little girl, maybe six, her pink dress a splash of innocence against the harsh urban backdrop, chasing a crimson balloon that danced just beyond her tiny fingers. Her feet, clad in sparkly sandals, carried her with terrifying determination straight into the street.
"Oh, come on," Veer muttered, pulling out his earbuds. "This is not the time for a Bollywood tragedy, universe."
But the universe, as usual, wasn't listening.
The SUV materialized around the corner like a mechanical demon—black, gleaming, and piloted by a driver whose attention was devoted entirely to his phone screen. The mother's scream cut through the evening like a blade, raw and desperate and utterly helpless.
Veer's brain performed rapid calculations: *Distance. Speed. Trajectory. Probability of survival.*
The math was brutally simple. The girl wouldn't make it.
"Right," he said to himself, dropping his bag with the casual grace of a man about to perform his final stunt. "Guess it's hero time. Again."
He launched himself forward, his body moving with the fluid precision of someone who'd spent years perfecting action sequences in college productions. The world shifted into that peculiar slow-motion state that seemed reserved for life's most crucial moments—every sound amplified, every detail crystalline, every heartbeat thundering like a war drum.
"Oi! Little princess!" he called out as he dove. "Balloons are completely overrated! Trust me—I've seen five Twilight movies because of an ex! That's real suffering!"
The SUV's bumper connected with his ribs like a thunderbolt from an angry god. Pain exploded through his body, a symphony of agony that would have made even the most dramatic film death scene seem understated. Bones cracked, breath vanished, and asphalt rose to meet him with all the warmth of a concrete embrace.
But beneath him, cushioned by his body and sheer determination, the little girl was safe.
"Uncle!" she squeaked, her tiny hands patting his bloody cheek with the concern of someone far too young to understand mortality. "Uncle, you're leaking!"
Veer managed a pained chuckle, tasting copper. "Yeah, sweetheart. Leaking's... definitely happening. But you? You're perfect. Absolutely perfect. Now go hug your mama before she has a proper heart attack, yeah?"
The mother arrived in a whirlwind of tears and panic, scooping her daughter up while simultaneously trying to check Veer for signs of life. "Oh God, oh God! You saved her! You saved my baby!"
"It's... it's what heroes do," Veer wheezed, attempting his most charming smile despite the fact that his internal organs seemed to be having a heated disagreement about their current arrangement. "Though next time? Maybe someone with better health insurance should volunteer."
The crowd was gathering now, a Mumbai classic—dozens of voices offering advice, calling for ambulances, taking photos, and generally turning tragedy into a public event. Veer's vision began to blur, the sharp edges of pain softening into something almost peaceful.
And then the light came.
Not the harsh neon of street lamps or the glow of mobile screens. This was light with presence, with weight, with the kind of divine authority that made mortals instinctively straighten their spines.
"Ahem."
The sound—a throat clearing that somehow contained the gravitas of a thousand temple bells—made the chaos around Veer fade to whispers.
A figure emerged from the light: tall, commanding, with eyes that held the wisdom of ages and a bearing that suggested he'd been personally present at the creation of dramatic timing. His voice, when it came, was pure velvet-wrapped thunder.
"Veer Bhosle."
"Oh, fantastic," Veer croaked, somehow managing to inject sarcasm into what were potentially his last words. "Let me guess. You're here about my library fines? Because I swear, I returned those books on time."
The figure—who radiated the kind of cosmic significance that suggested capital letters were mandatory when addressing him—allowed himself the faintest of smiles. "I am R.O.B., young man. Random Omnipotent Being, though I prefer to think of myself as... selectively omnipotent. More dramatic that way."
"R.O.B.?" Veer's eyebrows would have raised if his facial muscles weren't currently staging a revolt. "That's... that's your actual name? Did the universe run out of mysterious cosmic titles?"
"The universe," R.O.B. replied with the patient tone of someone accustomed to dealing with mortals who lacked proper reverence, "has a sense of humor. As do I. Which is why I'm here, instead of letting you simply... expire in the traditional manner."
Veer attempted to sit up, failed spectacularly, and settled for tilting his head. "Traditional manner? What, no dramatic final monologue? No fade to black? No tearful goodbyes? This is Mumbai, sir. We do death with proper Bollywood flair."
R.O.B.'s smile widened, and for a moment, the cosmic authority was replaced by something almost... fond. "Oh, there will be drama, Veer Bhosle. More drama than you can possibly imagine. But first, let me ask you something."
"Sure, go ahead. I'm not exactly going anywhere." Veer gestured weakly at his broken body. "Though if this is about my dating history, I plead temporary insanity."
"Your ex-girlfriend," R.O.B. said, his voice taking on an almost conspiratorial tone. "She made you watch the entire Twilight saga, did she not?"
Veer's expression shifted from pain to pure, unadulterated horror. "Oh, come on! Even in death, I can't escape those bloody vampires? Yes! Yes, she did! All five movies! Do you know what it's like to sit through Bella Swan's indecision for twelve hours straight?"
"I do, actually," R.O.B. replied gravely. "I've watched every version, in every dimension. It's... educational."
"Educational?" Veer's voice cracked. "About what? How to make the worst possible decisions while surrounded by supernatural beings who should know better?"
R.O.B.'s eyes twinkled with something that might have been mischief. "Precisely. And that, my brave, sarcastic friend, is why you're perfect for what I have in mind."
"Oh no." Veer's voice dropped to a whisper. "Oh no, no, no. You're not suggesting..."
"I am suggesting," R.O.B. continued with the relentless inevitability of a cosmic steamroller, "that your story is far from over. That your instinct to protect, your willingness to sacrifice, your absolutely devastating commentary on questionable life choices—all of these make you exactly what a certain universe needs."
"Which universe?" Veer asked, though his stomach was already dropping with the horrible certainty of someone who'd seen this plot twist coming.
"The one where vampires sparkle in sunlight, werewolves imprint on babies, and teenage girls regularly choose death over reasonable communication."
Veer stared at him. "You want to send me into the Twilight universe."
"I want to give you a second chance," R.O.B. corrected. "In a world where your protective instincts can serve a greater purpose, where your natural heroism can be enhanced by power worthy of legends."
"What kind of power?" Veer asked suspiciously. "Please tell me I don't have to sparkle. I have a reputation to maintain."
R.O.B.'s laugh was rich and warm, filling the air around them with something that felt like home. "Nothing so... aesthetically challenged. No, young hero. Your power will be worthy of your courage. The strength of Narasimha—the divine protector, the guardian of innocents, the one who stands between darkness and light."
Veer's eyes widened. "Narasimha? The... the lion avatar? You're offering me actual divine power?"
"I'm offering you the chance to be the hero you already are," R.O.B. replied simply. "But with the strength to protect those who cannot protect themselves, in a world that desperately needs someone who understands both courage and common sense."
"And I'd be...?"
"Bella Swan's cousin," R.O.B. said with evident satisfaction. "Raised by her mother's family after your parents' tragic death. Coming to Forks with her, armed with both divine power and the invaluable experience of having suffered through terrible romantic decisions from the outside."
Veer was quiet for a long moment, his mind racing despite the increasing fuzziness at the edges of his consciousness. Around them, the sirens were getting closer, but somehow they seemed distant, irrelevant.
"Let me get this straight," he said finally. "You want me to be reborn into a universe I've criticized extensively, with the power of a Hindu deity, as the cousin of the most indecisive protagonist in literary history?"
"Precisely."
"And my job would be to... what? Provide running commentary while protecting everyone from their own spectacularly poor judgment?"
"Among other things, yes."
Veer considered this, his pain fading into a strange, warm numbness. "Will I remember? This life, I mean? The movies? The absolutely painful dialogue?"
"Every word," R.O.B. confirmed. "Every cringe-worthy moment, every inexplicable plot hole, every time you wanted to shout at the screen. All of it will inform your new existence."
A slow grin spread across Veer's face. "You know what? Yes. Absolutely yes. If I have to die saving one little girl in Mumbai, I might as well live to save an entire universe from its own romantic incompetence."
R.O.B. nodded approvingly. "I thought you might see it that way."
"Just... promise me one thing," Veer added. "When I inevitably end up rolling my eyes at Edward's brooding or Bella's martyrdom complex, try not to revoke my divine powers, yeah?"
"I make no such promises," R.O.B. replied with magnificent solemnity. "But I suspect your irreverence will be precisely what that universe needs."
As the light began to intensify around them, Veer felt his consciousness start to drift. The pain was gone now, replaced by something warm and infinite and utterly peaceful.
"Hey, R.O.B.?" he called out as reality began to dissolve.
"Yes, Veer?"
"Next time you need a cosmic intervention, maybe pick someone who hasn't been traumatized by sparkly vampires?"
R.O.B.'s laughter followed him into the light, rich and eternal and filled with promise.
"Where would be the fun in that?"
And as Veer Bhosle's soul spiraled away from the chaos of Mumbai toward a destiny he could never have imagined, one thing was certain: the Twilight universe was about to get a very unexpected upgrade.
Somewhere in the distance between worlds, a little girl with a red balloon was safe, a mother's prayers had been answered, and a hero's journey was just beginning.
The universe, R.O.B. reflected with satisfaction, did indeed have a sense of humor.
And sometimes, that was exactly what saved it.
—
The first thing Veer registered was the steady hum of an engine and the faint smell of coffee mixed with something distinctly... woodsy. His consciousness surfaced slowly, like a swimmer rising from deep water, carrying with it the strangest sensation of *wrongness*—as if he'd fallen asleep as one person and was waking up as someone entirely different.
*Wait.*
The memories hit him like a freight train made of cosmic irony.
*R.O.B. The SUV. Mumbai. Death. Reincarnation.*
His eyes snapped open to find himself staring at the back of a familiar-looking man's head—salt-and-pepper hair beneath a police cap, broad shoulders in a brown uniform. Through the windshield, towering evergreens stretched endlessly upward, their branches heavy with mist that seemed to swallow the very concept of sunlight.
"Welcome to Forks, kids," Charlie Swan's voice carried that particular brand of paternal awkwardness that suggested he was still figuring out how to talk to teenagers. "Population: enough people to fill a decent wedding, and about twice as much rain."
Veer turned his head—carefully, because his neck felt strange, different—and found himself looking at Bella Swan. *Actual Bella Swan.* Brown hair, pale skin, and that expression of vague dissatisfaction that he remembered all too well from twelve hours of cinematic torture.
*Oh, fantastic. It wasn't a fever dream.*
But as he stared at her, something else crashed into his consciousness—memories that weren't his, but somehow *were* his now. Images, experiences, emotions from a life he'd never lived but had apparently been living for seventeen years.
*Veer Dwyer, seventeen years old, Charlie's nephew, Bella's cousin.*
The memories came in waves:
*Age three—clinging to Charlie's uniform after the funeral, not understanding why Mama wasn't coming back.*
*Age seven— the awkward family visits to Forks where he felt like a bridge between Charlie's quiet steadiness and Renee's restless energy.*
*Age ten—the first time his strength manifested, accidentally crushing a baseball during Little League practice, Careful questions from the guy Renee was dating at the time about "growth spurts" that came too early.*
*Age fourteen—the dreams starting, visions of golden light and roaring that left him waking with his sheets torn and his heart racing.*
*Age sixteen—overhearing Renee on the phone with Charlie, voice tight with worry: "I don't know what to do with him anymore, Charlie. He's getting stronger, and sometimes when he looks at people, it's like he's protecting them from something only he can see."*
And underneath it all, threading through every memory like a golden thread, was the constant, burning need to *protect*. Every instinct in this body—*his* body now—was oriented toward standing between danger and innocence, just like it had been in his previous life.
"Veer? You okay back there?" Charlie's eyes found his in the rearview mirror, concern creasing the corners. "You've been quiet since I picked you up from the airport."
"Just... taking it all in, Uncle Charlie," Veer heard himself say, and marveled at how natural it felt. The accent was different—more Pacific Northwest than Mumbai—but the voice was unmistakably his. "It's very... green."
"That's one word for it," Bella muttered, and Veer felt a surge of cosmic vindication. *There it is. The famous Bella Swan optimism.*
More memories surfaced: Charlie teaching him to fish, endless summers spent in this very police cruiser during ride-alongs, the careful way Charlie had always handled his questions about his parents. The man had been more than an uncle—he'd been a father in every way that mattered.
"You know," Veer said, settling back into the familiar dynamic even as his cosmic consciousness reeled, "when you said 'small town,' I was thinking maybe a few less trees and a few more... I don't know, signs of human civilization?"
"Wait until you see the high school," Charlie replied with the kind of grim humor that suggested he'd been fielding similar complaints for years. "Bella and you are going to love it. Right, Bells?"
Bella's expression could have curdled milk. "Thrilled, Dad."
*Oh, this is going to be even more painful than the movies,* Veer thought. But as more memories settled into place, he realized something interesting: this version of Veer had grown up knowing Bella through summers and holidays, had watched her go through her awkward phases, had been there for family dinners and shared eye-rolls at adult conversations.
Which meant he had something the original Bella never had—someone who actually knew her, someone who might be able to call her on her more spectacular lapses in judgment.
*If I can survive the supernatural soap opera long enough to try.*
"Home sweet home," Charlie announced as they pulled up to the familiar white house that Veer recognized from both the movies and, apparently, seventeen years of Christmas mornings and summer barbecues.
As they climbed out of the cruiser, Veer felt the strangest sensation—like his soul was settling into a body that fit perfectly, despite being completely different from the one he'd worn in Mumbai. This form was taller, broader through the shoulders, with the kind of lean muscle that suggested regular physical activity and good genetics. But underneath it all, he could sense something else—power, waiting. The divine strength that R.O.B. had promised, coiled and ready.
"I'll grab the bags," he said automatically, hefting both his and Bella's suitcases with an ease that made Charlie do a double-take.
"Kid, I keep forgetting how strong you've gotten," Charlie muttered. "What have they been feeding you in Phoenix?"
*Divine power and cosmic irony,* Veer thought, but said, "Just been working out, Uncle Charlie. You know how it is."
As they headed toward the house, Bella trailing behind with all the enthusiasm of someone walking to her own execution, Veer caught sight of his reflection in the living room window. The face looking back at him was definitely his, but refined somehow—sharper cheekbones, eyes that held depths they'd never had before, and something in his expression that suggested he'd seen things beyond the ordinary scope of teenage experience.
*Well,* he thought as Charlie fumbled with the house keys and Bella stared at the forest like it had personally offended her, *this is either going to be the greatest cosmic joke ever played, or I'm about to become the most overqualified supernatural babysitter in literary history.*
Either way, he was definitely going to need more coffee.
And possibly a very strong drink when he inevitably met his first sparkling vampire.
—
# New Room, Old Memories, Future Possibilities
The room hadn't changed much since Veer's last summer visit—same pale blue walls, same twin bed pushed against the window, same desk where he'd pretended to do homework while actually reading comics. But now it felt different. Permanent. The stack of boxes Charlie had helped him carry up contained everything he owned in this world, which was both more and less than he'd expected.
Veer folded the last of his t-shirts into the dresser drawer and stepped back, surveying his new domain. Through the window, he could see the Swan backyard stretching toward the tree line, where the forest seemed to swallow the world whole. *Somewhere out there,* he thought with dark amusement, *vampires are brooding and werewolves are probably getting unnecessarily shirtless for no apparent reason.*
The thought made him chuckle, which turned into a proper laugh as the cosmic absurdity of his situation hit him again. "Right," he said to the empty room. "Seventeen years old, divine powers, and I know exactly how every terrible romantic decision in this town is going to play out. This should be fun."
He turned toward the small mirror hanging above his dresser and froze.
*Holy...*
The face looking back at him was... well, it was definitely his face, but it was as if someone had taken his original features and run them through some sort of cosmic enhancement filter. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, expressive dark eyes that seemed to hold depths of both mischief and wisdom. His hair fell in perfect waves that probably looked effortless but would make hair stylists weep with envy. And his smile—even his own smile looked like it belonged on a movie poster.
"Okay, R.O.B.," he said to his reflection, grinning despite himself. "I see what you did here. Very subtle. Really going for understated, weren't you?"
He looked exactly like a young Hrithik Roshan—if Hrithik Roshan had been blessed by Hindu deities and given supernatural powers. The only thing missing was the extra thumb, which honestly, Veer was grateful for. He had enough to explain without adding anatomical curiosities to the mix.
*No wonder the memories included so many... social successes.*
As he thought about it, more memories surfaced—a parade of girlfriends, admirers, and what his previous life's brain could only categorize as "romantic opportunities that would have made Mumbai Veer deeply jealous." Sarah from Phoenix, who'd written him poetry. Jessica from that summer camp, who'd actually cried when he left. Maria from Renee's yoga class, who'd been entirely too interested in "helping him with flexibility."
*Right,* he thought, sitting on the edge of his bed. *So apparently I've been accidentally charming people for seventeen years. That's... actually useful information.*
But now came the interesting question: in a universe full of supernatural beings and predetermined romantic entanglements, where exactly did Veer fit into the equation?
His mind immediately went to the characters he'd actually liked during his forced Twilight marathon. Leah Clearwater topped the list—the shapeshifter who'd gotten the rawest deal in the entire saga. Fierce, loyal, protective of her people, and absolutely done with everyone's romantic nonsense. Plus, she was single, unattached, and dealing with her own supernatural transformation issues.
*She'd understand the whole 'divine power' situation,* he mused. *And she's got actual personality, unlike some protagonists I could mention.*
Then there was Alice Cullen—but she was definitely taken, and Jasper seemed like the kind of vampire who could make your death both artistic and extremely unpleasant. So that was out on multiple levels.
Rosalie was stunning but also intensely committed to Emmett, and Veer had strict ethical boundaries about interfering with established relationships. Same went for Esme, who was both married and old enough to be his great-grandmother, technically speaking.
*What about the human girls?* he wondered. Angela Weber had always seemed sweet and normal, which was practically exotic in this universe. Jessica Stanley was... well, she was enthusiastic, but Veer had a feeling that dating Jessica would be like signing up for a full-time job as a conversation partner.
Then there were the Denali coven members he vaguely remembered from the later movies—Tanya, Kate, Irina. All powerful, all presumably single (at least initially), all dealing with their own supernatural drama. The kind of women who could probably handle dating someone with divine powers without having an existential crisis about it.
*Although,* he thought with a grin, *knowing my luck, I'll end up accidentally imprinting on someone, or discovering that divine avatars have their own supernatural mate-bond nonsense to deal with. Because apparently, free will is just a suggestion in this universe.*
A knock on his door interrupted his romantic speculation. "Veer? You settling in okay up there?"
"Yeah, Uncle Charlie," he called back. "Just... processing the permanent change of scenery."
"Dinner in twenty minutes. Bella's attempting to cook, so we might want to have pizza on speed dial."
Veer laughed. "I'll be down in a few. And Charlie? Maybe I should cook tonight. I've been practicing."
There was a pause, then Charlie's relieved voice: "You're a lifesaver, kid. Literally."
As his uncle's footsteps retreated down the stairs, Veer turned back to the mirror. The cosmic joke of his situation was becoming clearer by the minute. He'd been reborn into a universe where everyone was either supernaturally attractive, supernaturally powerful, or supernaturally dramatic (often all three), armed with meta-knowledge of exactly how every plot twist would unfold, and given the kind of looks that would make modeling agencies start bidding wars.
*The question is,* he thought, straightening his shoulders and letting just a hint of that divine power shimmer beneath his skin, *do I try to follow the original storyline, or do I completely derail this supernatural soap opera and see what happens?*
His reflection grinned back at him with the kind of confidence that suggested the answer was obvious.
*Chaos it is, then. But ethical chaos. Chaos with style.*
After all, someone had to bring some sense to this universe. And if that someone happened to look like a Bollywood heartthrob with divine powers and an insider's knowledge of everyone's terrible decision-making patterns?
Well, that just made things more interesting.
He headed downstairs to save dinner and probably, eventually, everyone else too. But first, he was definitely going to enjoy watching Bella try to cook. Some entertainment was just too good to pass up.
—
Alice Cullen's world exploded into brilliant, overwhelming light.
One moment she'd been arranging flowers in the main room of the Cullen house, humming softly while Jasper read nearby, and the next she was somewhere else entirely—caught in the grip of a vision so powerful it sent her to her knees on the polished hardwood floor.
*Golden eyes. A smile that could melt glaciers. Hands that moved with impossible grace and strength. The scent of sandalwood and something wild, something ancient...*
"Alice!" Jasper was beside her instantly, his concern flooding through their bond as he knelt and gathered her trembling form against his chest. "What did you see?"
But Alice couldn't speak yet. The vision was still cascading through her consciousness like a waterfall of possibility and certainty intertwined.
*Three figures moving toward one—Edyth's normally controlled composure cracking into wonder, Jessamyn's tactical mind going blank with recognition, Eleanor's boisterous confidence melting into something soft and reverent.*
*One mate. Shared between them. Perfect for each of them in completely different ways.*
"Oh my," Alice whispered, her voice barely audible even to vampire hearing.
The sound of approaching footsteps filled the house as the rest of the family responded to Jasper's emotional distress call. Carlisle appeared first, his medical instincts engaged, followed quickly by Esme. The thundering steps on the staircase announced the arrival of the younger generation.
Edyth descended with her characteristic fluid grace, copper hair catching the light, her pale features set in an expression of concern that didn't quite mask her natural wariness. Where Edward was brooding and intense, Edyth carried herself with a more refined restraint—still beautiful, still dangerous, but with an elegance that spoke of old-world finishing schools and careful self-control.
Jessamyn appeared next, moving with the predatory stillness that marked all the Cullen family but with her own unique twist. Her honey-blonde hair framed features that were both sweet and sharp, and when she spoke, her voice carried the faint Texas drawl that matched her twin brother's. "Alice, darlin', you're white as a sheet. Even for us, that's sayin' somethin'."
Eleanor bounded down last, all energy and enthusiasm barely contained in her petite frame. Where Emmett was all bulk and obvious power, Eleanor was compact dynamism—like a friendly tornado that happened to be devastatingly beautiful. Her auburn hair bounced with each step, and her eyes held the same love of life and challenge that made her twin brother so endearing.
"What's got everyone so tense?" Eleanor asked, dropping into a crouch beside Alice with characteristic directness. "Did you see something about the Volturi again? Because I was really hoping for a few more decades before we had to deal with that particular brand of drama."
Alice finally managed to focus on the faces surrounding her. Carlisle and Esme's parental concern. Jasper's barely controlled anxiety. And the three sisters, each beautiful and deadly in her own way, each completely unaware that their entire existence was about to shift on its axis.
"I saw..." Alice paused, her voice gaining strength as the vision crystallized into certainty. "I saw your mate."
The reaction was immediate and varied. Edyth went very still, the kind of supernatural stillness that suggested every instinct was suddenly at high alert. Jessamyn tilted her head with tactical interest, while Eleanor's eyes lit up with excitement.
"Our what now?" Eleanor asked with a grin. "Please tell me you mean individually, because sharing would be..."
"No," Alice interrupted softly. "I mean collectively. One mate. For all three of you."
The silence that followed could have been cut with a knife.
"That's..." Jessamyn's accent became more pronounced as it always did when she was thinking hard. "That's not exactly standard vampire protocol, sugar."
"Since when has this family ever followed standard anything?" Edyth murmured, though her voice carried undertones of something that might have been hope.
Carlisle cleared his throat diplomatically. "Alice, are you certain? Shared mates among vampires are... extraordinarily rare. Almost unheard of, actually."
"I'm certain," Alice replied, getting to her feet with Jasper's steadying help. "The vision was clear. Clearer than almost any I've ever had. He's..." She paused, searching for words. "He's not entirely human."
That got everyone's attention.
"What do you mean, not entirely human?" Esme asked gently.
Alice closed her eyes, letting the vision wash through her again. "There's light inside him. Ancient light. Power that feels... divine, somehow. And he's coming here. To Forks. Soon."
Eleanor perked up. "Divine power? Well, that sounds promising. I was getting bored with ordinary humans anyway."
"Eleanor," Edyth said with fond exasperation, though there was a flush of color in her marble cheeks that suggested she wasn't entirely unaffected by the news.
"What?" Eleanor shrugged. "I'm just saying, if we're going to complicate our existence with romance, we might as well do it spectacularly."
Jessamyn was studying Alice with sharp focus. "You said he's coming here. How soon is soon?"
"Very," Alice replied. "He's... he's already here, actually. Just arrived. And there's something else." She looked directly at Edyth. "He knows about us. About what we are. About what's going to happen."
The implication hit them all simultaneously.
"He's seen the future?" Carlisle asked.
"No," Alice said slowly. "It's stranger than that. It's like he's... lived it already. Like he's watching a story he's heard before, but this time he gets to change the ending."
Eleanor clapped her hands together with delight. "Oh, this just gets better and better. A divinely powered, mysteriously knowledgeable, devastatingly attractive mate who somehow belongs to all three of us? It's like someone wrote this specifically to be interesting."
"Eleanor, you can't possibly know he's devastatingly attractive," Edyth pointed out, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.
Alice smiled—the first real smile since the vision had ended. "Actually, she's not wrong about that part. He's... well, let's just say that when you meet him, you'll understand why the universe decided he could handle all three of you."
Jessamyn leaned back, her expression thoughtful. "Well, sugar, I reckon this is either goin' to be the best thing that ever happened to us, or the most complicated."
"Why not both?" Eleanor asked cheerfully.
As the family dispersed to process this information in their own ways, Alice remained by the window, her eyes unfocused as she sifted through the cascading possibilities that their mysterious mate's arrival had set in motion.
*Veer Dwyer,* she thought, testing the name that had echoed through her vision. *You have no idea what you're walking into, do you?*
But somehow, she suspected he'd handle it just fine.
---
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