Rowan stumbled along the foggy road, every step uncertain. Her mind spun with fragments of a world she barely understood—colors she hadn't known, power that hummed in her veins, and the strange pull in her chest she couldn't name.
A sudden flash of red and blue caught her eye. A cruiser swerved around her, brakes squealing. Rowan froze.
"You okay?" a gruff voice called.
She turned to see a man leaning from the window—stocky, graying hair, classic mustache, eyes sharp but gentle. Something in him made her chest ache with relief.
"I—I think so," she stammered.
"You don't look okay," he said, voice calm, steady. "Come on, get in before you get hurt."
She hesitated, her instincts warning her to run. But there was a kindness in him she couldn't ignore, a solidness she hadn't felt since…before her parents had died. Tentatively, she stepped inside.
The car smelled faintly of pine air freshener and warm coffee. The engine hummed. The man glanced at her, eyebrows knitting in concern.
"I'm Charlie Swan," he said. "I run the local police here. And I don't usually pick up strangers from the side of the road, but… well, you seemed like you needed help."
Rowan's mouth went dry. "Charlie… Swan?"
He nodded. "That's me. And, uh… don't worry, you're safe now. We'll figure out what to do next."
Her chest tightened. The name was familiar—so familiar it made her heart skip. Charlie Swan. Forks. This is… real. She was in the Twilight world.
She remembered the books, the movies, the stories she'd grown up reading. She had never imagined it could be real. And yet, here she was, sitting trembling—in the passenger seat of a man she knew from fiction, yet who was flesh, blood, and very alive.
Charlie seemed to sense her awe and unease. "Hey. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."
She nodded, biting her lip. She clasped her hands in her lap realizing she still wore her black dress from the funeral. She remembered not being sure if she should wear black or white (for her father's Korean culture). She had settled for a black dress with a white ribbon collar, dirty now from her trek through the Forks forest. "It's just… everything. It's too much."
"I can imagine," he said softly. "Why don't we get you somewhere warm, somewhere you can breathe?"
He drove in silence for a few minutes, giving her space, but he didn't let her feel abandoned. His presence was steady, grounding, and she clung to it without even realizing it.
When they arrived at his house, he gestured to the small guest room. "You can stay here for now. I'll make sure you're taken care of. Food, shower, bed… the basics."
Rowan felt tears prick her eyes. "I… I don't even know how to thank you."
Charlie smiled faintly, shrugging. "You don't need to. Just try not to let the world break you while you figure out what's next." He paused, then added, carefully, "You're… fragile right now. But I can tell you're stronger than you feel."
She nodded, feeling the weight of grief, fear, and magic pressing down on her, and yet… comforted. For the first time since her parents' accident, she felt a tiny spark of stability.
Once she was settled in the guest room, she finally let herself breathe, curling under the blankets. Her mind raced.
"A world I knew…" She whispered the words, recalling Ellion's warning. "But nothing like what I was told."
And then the pull came again, faint but undeniable, threading through her chest. Someone out there—someone she hadn't met—was calling to her. She didn't know his face. She didn't know his name. But something deep inside whispered that he was waiting. That he was important. That he was… hers.
Rowan pressed her hands to her chest. Her grief, her fear, her new and terrifying power—all of it tangled together in one strange, thrilling knot.