Bella expected the first night in Forks to be uneventful; that was to be expected.
Bella unpacked until she couldn't anymore, her body feeling like lead. She looked around the room that had transitioned from a room of a child to that of a young woman. She couldn't help feeling slightly guilty that she put Rowan out of a room (she now would sleep on the couch downstairs), even if the room was hers first.
The rain whispered at her window, as if reminding her it was time to sleep herself.
As she snuggled into a fresh comforter and sheets, she expected to dream of Phoenix.
Or Mom.
Or perhaps nothing.
Instead...
Darkness folded around her, comforting in a way she hadn't thought of it before. Bella blinked and found herself standing in a long stone corridor lit only by flickering torches. Every step echoed - her breath, heartbeat and a distant sound of cloaks brushing against stone echoed down the hall.
'Here again.'
She knew this place. She had dreamed of it before but it had never been as clear as it was this time. She could almost smell a mustiness like old books and wet stone.
She kept walking down the hall until she reached a set of towering wooden doors carved in ancient symbols that almost looked like hieroglyphs. Before she could reach out and touch them, the doors opened silently, welcoming her into the room beyond them.
And there in the center of the circular chamber, washed with burnt sienna light, he was there.
A man stood back, partially turned. A deep crimson cloak was pooling at his black booted feet. His posture was alert but poised like a predator awaiting a signal of approaching prey. But she didn't feel threatened by his aura that rolled off him...instead, she felt something like relief, something like recognition.
Then he turned toward her.
His features were sharp but not cruel; he was handsome like a sculpture found at expensive museums in Paris or Prague. Cool marble brushed with bronze. Long dark hair framed his features, and his crimson eyes glowed softly in the torchlight. But she wasn't frightened...she was intrigued, she found herself stepping closer as his eyes searched her features as if memorizing them.
Bella felt something snap into place inside her chest. A golden thread wrapped around her heart and tugged her toward him.
The man stepped closer, confusion and awe flickering across his expression as if he were seeing something impossible.
"Tesoro..." his voice was low and warm, carrying an Italian tilt that had her flushing.
"You are real." She whispered in return.
He reached his hand out - hesitant, almost reverent - and when his fingers brushed hers, a shock of warmth went through her veins, lighting her from the inside out. Their golden thread brightened, pulling tighter.
Her breath trembled, "This is real, isn't it?"
Then she noticed her hand upon his was becoming translucent, and the chamber trembled around them.
"Come back to me." He whispered.
"No! Wait!" She reached for him again, only for her hand to go through his and the room to fade to black.
Then - she jolted awake.
Her room had grown cold in the early morning.
Her heart was racing.
Her cheeks were damp, trembling hands felt them to find she had been crying.
Bella pressed a hand to her chest.
She didn't even know his name, but she knew deep down in the very marrow of her being that the man in the red cloak had not been just a dream.
He was real.
He was hers.
And he was waiting for her.
And that golden thread she'd seen.
It hummed quietly beneath her heartbeat, urging her that her destiny was waiting for her just out of reach.