Astraea stumbled as she stepped out of the portal, her sandals scraping against the coarse blacktop beneath her feet. The moment the archway of light sealed behind her, it felt as though the energy sustaining her had been ripped away.
Her knees buckled. She fell hard onto the road, the impact jarring through her bones. Her body, so recently revived and still adjusting, felt impossibly heavy.
She tried to push herself up but couldn't muster the strength. Her surroundings blurred—the strange stretch of flat, hard ground lined by yellow markings, the trees rising on both sides like silent sentinels. A smell hung in the air she couldn't place: oil, metal, distant wet earth.
Her vision dimmed. The world tilted. Then darkness took her.
A pair of headlights cut through the night. Sheriff Charlie Swan drove the familiar winding road out of Forks, his hands loose on the steering wheel, his jaw tight with thoughts he couldn't shut off.
It had been over a month since they found Bella in the woods—since Sam Uley had carried her out of the forest, pale and shaking, like she was barely clinging to life. A month since Edward Cullen had walked out of her world and left behind the hollow, broken girl Charlie had barely recognized.
She'd been drowning ever since.
And he didn't know how to save her.
He was just passing the wooded stretch near where Bella had been found when something caught his headlights.
It was a body.
Charlie slammed on the brakes, tires squealing on the damp asphalt. His heart lurched as he yanked the gear into park and jumped out, boots pounding against the road.
A girl lay sprawled across the blacktop, her unnaturally pink, lavender, and blue hair stark against the autumn hues of the trees surrounding her. She wasn't moving.
"Hey!" he called, voice sharp with urgency. "Miss, are you—"
He knelt beside her, reaching out to check for a pulse.
That's when she moved.
Astraea's eyes snapped open. The first thing she felt was an unfamiliar hand touching her shoulder. The second was the rapid pulse of an energy she didn't recognize—steady, warm, and deeply mortal.
She blinked up at the stranger. Brown hair. Brown eyes. The furrowed lines of worry etched into his face were unmistakable, even across worlds.
He was speaking. The sounds tumbled out of his mouth, fast and clipped, but she didn't understand a word.
Her body was still too weak to stand, but this she could fix.
Astraea reached up and grabbed the man's head with both hands. He flinched but didn't pull away quickly enough. She closed her eyes and pushed, her astral abilities threading through the barrier of his mind like starlight seeping through cracks.
Images. Words. Emotions. They flooded into her. She sorted through the memories with practiced efficiency, taking only what she needed—the shape and meaning of this world's language, its spoken sounds and written words.
He gasped as his body stiffened, but before panic could root itself, Astraea released him. With a faint brush of her power, she wiped away any trace of what she had done. He wouldn't remember the intrusion.
Her strength was nearly gone again. She swayed, her voice barely a whisper as she formed the strange new words with her tongue.
"Help… me," she said, the syllables soft but clear.
Then her body gave out.
Charlie caught her before her head hit the pavement, cradling her limp form against his chest.
"Jesus," he muttered, checking her again. She was breathing, but she felt too light in his arms, too fragile.
He looked around, but the road was empty. The woods on both sides were still, offering no answers as to who she was or how she'd ended up here.
"Okay," Charlie said quietly, more to himself than to her. "Okay, I've got you. You're gonna be alright."
He lifted her carefully and carried her back to the cruiser. Laying her across the backseat, he draped his jacket over her shoulders before climbing behind the wheel.
He had no idea who this girl was, but leaving her out here wasn't an option.
Charlie Swan took her home.
An hour later:
Astraea stirred slowly, consciousness returning in pieces.
She was lying on something soft—far too soft compared to the black stone and celestial ichor she had known for centuries. There was warmth, too, heavy and artificial, pushing against her skin. Her fingers brushed against cloth and padding, and her mind struggled to understand the texture.
A bed, she realized after pulling the knowledge from memory. This was what humans slept on.
Her eyes fluttered open. The room was small, dimly lit by the pale glow of a single lamp. She blinked, focusing on the details: four walls painted a dull cream, an old wooden dresser, and strange images pinned on the wall—a forest scene printed on flat, paper-like material.
But what unsettled her most was how… quiet it was.
There was no thrum of astral energy, no hum of ley lines. Just the distant drip of rain against a window and the faint tick of a clock.
She sat up slowly, her body still weak. The white sundress she had summoned clung softly to her skin, wrinkled from being carried. Her violet eyes swept the room, searching for anything familiar, but the only evidence of life was a folded blanket on a chair and the faint scent of another girl.
Bella, she recalled. The name came from Charlie Swan's memories—the daughter who lived here.
Astraea's head tilted, curious.
She swung her legs off the bed and stood, her bare feet sinking slightly into a rough carpet. The unfamiliar flooring prickled her skin, but she ignored the sensation. She moved to the window first, peering out at the waterlogged yard and dense woods beyond. This planet's ecosystem was strange: so much green, so much moisture.
And yet it was alive in a way she could appreciate.
She turned back just as the door creaked open.
Charlie Swan stood there, a man awkward in his own home, holding a tray with a glass of water and something wrapped in bread—a sandwich, her newly acquired knowledge supplied. He froze when he saw her standing, those warm brown eyes widening just slightly.
"You're awake," he said cautiously. "I, uh… wasn't sure you'd be up so soon."
Astraea blinked at him, then remembered the language she'd pulled from his mind. She repeated the word slowly, tasting it like something unfamiliar.
"Awake," she echoed.
"Yeah. Awake." He stepped inside and set the tray down on the small desk. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, uh… you're safe here, okay? My daughter's not home right now, but… this is her room. Just rest. You look like you need it."
Astraea tilted her head at him, her expression unreadable. "This… place. It is your home?"
Charlie nodded, uncertain why the question felt so heavy. "Yeah. Forks, Washington. You, uh, don't seem like you're from around here."
She stared at him, saying nothing. Her violet eyes seemed to pierce through him, not unkindly but as if she were seeing things he couldn't understand.
Charlie coughed and gestured to the tray. "Food and water. You're probably hungry. I'll, uh… give you some space."
As he turned to leave, Astraea spoke softly, her voice halting as she pieced the language together.
"Thank you… Charlie Swan."
He paused, hand on the doorframe. "You… know my name?"
Astraea only looked at him with that same calm, unblinking expression. "I know enough? My memories have been fragmented, so I am still a bit confused by everything."
Charlie didn't ask what that meant. He just nodded, muttered something about checking on her later, and left, shutting the door gently behind him.
Astraea sat back on the bed, lifting the sandwich in her hands. She sniffed it first, uncertain of the combination of smells, then took a tentative bite. The flavors were strange but rich.
Her body welcomed the sustenance.
As she chewed slowly, she looked around the room again. There was something faint—something she could feel—lingering in the air here. A thread of the same astral presence she had sensed from the mountain… and it was strongest just outside the house.
Her glowing eyes narrowed faintly.
She was not as alone on this planet as she'd first thought.
She rose and put on her sandals. She headed outside to the backyard where the woods were.
Astraea rose from the bed with silent grace and slipped her sandals on, tightening the straps around her ankles. Her movements were fluid despite her body still feeling faintly heavy, as though the ground of this planet wasn't used to holding her weight.
The room felt too small, too enclosed, and the faint pulse of that astral presence tugged at her senses like a whisper. She followed it without hesitation.
The house was quiet. She opened the door slowly and stepped into a narrow hallway, noting the faded family photographs on the walls—images of Charlie Swan and a young girl with brown hair and a hesitant smile. Bella. Astraea tilted her head, studying the photos with detached curiosity. The girl's eyes looked heavy even in the captured moments, like she carried more weight than a mortal her age should.
But the pull of the presence was stronger outside.
She padded softly through the living room, her bare feet almost soundless on the old wooden floorboards. She found the back door with ease, a sliding pane of glass that led to a modest yard framed by a wooden fence. She pushed it open carefully, the cool autumn air rushing over her like a gentle warning.
The night was alive.
The woods behind the house loomed, tall evergreens and dense underbrush forming a wall of shadow. Astraea stepped into the grass, the scent of damp earth and pine sharp in her nose. The moonlight cut thin silver lines through the trees, lighting the narrow trail that snaked into the forest.
She didn't hesitate.
The moment her feet crossed onto the trail, she could feel it—the faint pulse of the astral presence she had detected before. It wasn't close, but it was strong enough now that her instincts responded. Something old was out there, cloaked and hidden, just beyond the edge of her perception.
A low rustle from the trees made her pause. She turned her head slightly, eyes glowing faintly violet as she scanned the shadows. A fox darted out from the underbrush, its amber eyes reflecting the moonlight before it vanished into the trees.
The forest was different from any she'd known, but it was alive.
She stepped deeper into the woods, her senses open, her power restrained but ready. Somewhere ahead, the presence waited.
Astraea had just taken another step into the woods when a voice cut through the night.
"Hey! Wait—uh, hold on!"
She stopped, glancing back toward the house. Charlie Swan stood on the porch, silhouetted by the warm light from inside. He looked tense, scanning the yard until his eyes landed on her pale figure at the edge of the tree line.
"Hey, uh—" He hesitated, realizing he didn't even know what to call her. "You! You can't just… wander off like that!"
Astraea tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable as she watched him. He took a few steps closer, rubbing the back of his neck in clear frustration.
"Look, you're not exactly in great shape," he said, his voice softer now. "You passed out in the middle of the road, and I don't even know who you are. It's cold out, and there are animals in the woods. You could get hurt."
She blinked slowly, processing the words she now understood thanks to the memory link. For a moment she considered ignoring him—the forest and the astral presence beyond it were far more compelling—but something about the mortal man's voice pulled at her.
Charlie stepped off the porch and into the yard. "Come on. Let's just… head back inside, alright? Please?"
Astraea looked toward the trees one last time. The pulse of the presence called to her, faint but insistent.
But the thread could wait.
She turned back to Charlie, her sandals whispering against the grass as she walked toward him with a steady, regal composure.
Charlie let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thanks," he said as she reached him, though she offered no response. He gestured back toward the house. "It's warmer inside. You need to rest."
Astraea followed him without a word, her violet eyes lingering on the forest one final time before stepping back into the warmth of the house.
Charlie closed the sliding door behind them, locking it out of habit. The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the occasional creak of settling wood. Astraea stood in the middle of the living room, the soft glow of a floor lamp brushing against her pale skin and pastel-colored hair, making her look almost unreal.
Charlie tried not to stare, but she was unlike anyone he'd ever seen before.
He cleared his throat. "Look… I'm not gonna lie, you kinda scared me there," he said, his voice low but firm. "You just… walked right out into the woods. Do you even know where you're going?"
Astraea turned her head slightly, studying him. "No," she said simply.
That one word carried a strange weight, but it was enough to make Charlie frown. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay. Uh… then maybe stay inside for this afternoon, alright? It's not safe out there. This town isn't exactly a big city, but we do have bears, cougars…" He trailed off, realizing how useless the warning sounded to someone who didn't seem fazed by anything.
Still, he pressed on. "Can I… ask your name?"
Astraea hesitated. Her memories still felt fractured, like shards of stars scattered too far apart to reach. But one name remained clear, etched into the core of her soul.
"Astraea," she said softly, the syllables smooth and deliberate.
Charlie nodded, filing the name away. "Astraea. Okay. That's… different, but it's nice." He leaned forward slightly, his voice gentler now. "Do you have any family around here? Anyone I can call? You don't seem… local."
Astraea's violet eyes blinked once, slow and calm. "No."
The finality in her tone was enough to quiet any follow-up questions.
Charlie sighed. "Alright, then. I guess you're staying here for now, at least until we figure this out. I've got a spare room, but for today… you can stay in Bella's. She won't mind."
Astraea tilted her head. "Bella," she repeated.
"My daughter," Charlie explained. "She's… at school righg now. She'll be home later."
Astraea tilted her head again, processing the explanation. "School," she echoed, the word rolling off her tongue like she was trying it out for the first time.
Charlie nodded, a little uneasy under her steady gaze. "Yeah. You know… classes, teachers, other kids. It's… normal."
"Normal," Astraea repeated softly, though the word clearly meant little to her.
Charlie shifted his weight, suddenly aware of how little he knew about her. "Look, Astraea," he said, trying the name carefully. "I don't know where you came from or why you were out there, but you're safe here. Just… stay put for the rest of the day, okay? Bella'll be home around three, and we'll figure out the rest then."
Astraea considered him for a moment, her glowing violet eyes unreadable. Then, slowly, she inclined her head. "Very well," she said, her voice calm but final, like she was agreeing to far more than a simple request.
Charlie felt an odd chill crawl up his spine but forced a small nod. "Good. Uh, there's food in the kitchen if you need anything. And water. You should drink something—you look like you could use it."
She didn't respond, only turned toward the hallway leading back to Bella's room. Charlie watched her go, her bare feet silent on the floorboards, and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Something about her felt… off. Not in a dangerous way, but in a way that unsettled him down to his bones.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. 1:47 p.m.
Bella would be home soon.
Astraea stepped back into the room that smelled faintly of the human girl Charlie called Bella. She closed the door behind her and stood in the quiet space, her gaze roaming over the personal items that littered the room.
The air felt heavy here.
She could feel it in the walls, in the unwashed blanket still folded at the foot of the bed. A weight that wasn't physical, but emotional, clung to the space like a shadow.
Astraea's fingers brushed against the edge of the dresser as she studied the framed photographs propped up there. Bella appeared in all of them: smiling awkwardly next to Charlie, laughing with other people Astraea didn't know, staring into the camera with eyes that held a kind of shy, inward sadness.
Her violet gaze softened slightly.
"The human girl carries a weak soul," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
She sat down on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her. She could feel the lingering warmth in the sheets, the sense of a life lived in this small, quiet room.
For the first time since awakening on this strange planet, Astraea felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—curiosity about a human.
She glanced toward the window, the faint pulse of the astral presence outside still tugging at her senses. It was close now, but not close enough.
She needed to collect your power. With the Aether in this world, Astrae estimated it would take at least a week for her to return to full form.
She glanced toward the window again, that subtle, constant pull of the astral presence still whispering at the edge of her awareness. It was close now—closer than it had been in the forest—but not close enough to pinpoint.
She exhaled slowly, lowering her gaze.
I need to collect my power.
Her body felt sluggish, the light in her veins still muted. The ichor from the awakening pool had stabilized her, but the energy she had spent opening the portal and adjusting to this world's atmosphere had drained the rest.
Astraea reached inward, touching the strands of power that lay dormant at her core. They were faint, thin threads, nearly severed, and the flow of Aether in this world was unlike anything she was used to.
Sparse. Unrefined.
The humans here had no understanding of the celestial currents that surrounded them, and as a result, the world's Aether had been left untended, wild and shallow. It would take time to acclimate to its rhythm.
A week at least, she estimated, her lips tightening at the thought. Only then will I return to full form.
She could survive until then, but she would be vulnerable.
Her eyes drifted once more to the window, where the evergreens swayed faintly in the cool autumn wind. The astral presence she sensed would likely feel her weakened state as well.
Whether that would draw it closer or push it further away, she couldn't say.
Astraea rose from the bed and moved to the dresser, brushing her fingers lightly over the smooth surface. Each breath of air in this house felt steeped in quiet grief, but for now it was shelter.
For now, it would be enough.
Astraea turned at the sound of the door opening, her long hair spilling over her shoulders in pastel waves.
The girl who stepped inside froze mid-step, her fingers still curled around the strap of her worn backpack. She was young, her skin pale against the autumn chill, and her brown eyes—hollow and distant—locked on Astraea with stunned disbelief.
For a moment, neither moved.
Bella Swan's mind raced. There was someone—a stranger—standing in her room, standing where she slept and cried and tried to disappear. The girl's presence didn't feel normal; she was impossibly beautiful, with luminous skin and hair like a thousand sunsets braided into one.
Bella gripped the strap tighter, unsure if she should speak or run. "Who… are you?" she asked quietly, her voice rough from disuse.