Stephenie Meyer owns all TWILIGHT characters.

PROLOGUE

I am an anomaly, in every sense of the word, no matter where I might be. I breathe it in, take in who I am, and I don't apologize for being different. Life is granted, life is taken away, death is halted, death is given. I have done all of those and do not regret a single moment. It is part of who I am.

To most people, I am Isabella Swan. I was left at the counter of the emergency room nurses' station in Forks, Washington one day in September, seemingly a newborn with a parent who didn't want me. In the same hospital, the Chief of Police of the town was taking his wife to the doctor, a follow-up appointment for another child lost before its time. It was a perfect meeting.

Charlie and Renee Swan were a young couple who wanted a child but weren't ready for one, not by any means. They took me in, cared for me, loved me, and when truths were revealed, realized a family wasn't right for them, not at the time. So the marriage fell apart and Renee took me to Phoenix, where the sun was too high and too hot, reminding me of others who watched me. For years, I stayed with Renee and stayed quiet, calm. I didn't want attention and soon became a girl of the shadows, the one who simply existed in a world of high school cliques and teenage angst.

The chance to move back to Forks is bittersweet. The town calls to me with its months of cold winters and desolation, with its spring filled with new life. Now though, as the plane touches down in a rainy Seattle, I wonder just how much I may like it here if it rains instead of snows in January. It is no better and no worse than the wretchedly hot winters of Phoenix but the rain reminds me of the man responsible for me having to stay with Charlie and Renee in the first place, the one who took me from my birth parents.

Charlie calls my name and rips me from my memories. He looks the same, if only slightly older than the last time I saw him a few years before, and he's still as quiet as before. I answer his questions on the drive to Forks, but they are automatic answers and, after a while, the questions cease and I stare out the window.

The house is the same as I remember it. The rain hasn't reached the small town yet and, all around me, the trees are bare and the grass is dead. I take a deep breath and smile because the barrenness of wildlife only means my real parents are happy, as happy as they can be without me there to complete the circle we once made. Charlie takes my bags inside, knowing I need some time to take in my surroundings, to become familiar with them.

This town is as close to home as I will ever get until my 18th year, when my father, the one responsible for my creation, can come and claim me once more, can take me back to the world of Shades and palaces and gardens and flying horses. A rumble of thunder sounds in the distance like an answer to my thoughts and I let out a small hiss of hatred.

"Bella, you comin' in?"

Charlie is waiting by the front door and I nod, apologizing though I have done nothing wrong. He gives me the rundown of the house as though I've never been here before. It's adorable, the way he worries and frets about me and I give him a small smile and pat on the shoulder to thank him for caring. After a while, he leaves me to unpack in my small room with the new purple bedspread and I smile at the gesture. Charlie knows my favorite color is red but he would never dare buy me anything in that color, not when he knows the meaning behind it.

There is a calendar hanging on the wall and I flip through it, even though I know it will be exactly two months and one day until I can see my mother, until she emerges from the place I miss most and finds me to make sure I am being treated properly and to remind me of the love she and my father have for me. I never doubt her words. It would be stupid to do so and even if her status didn't force me to believe it, I would anyway. They gave me over to Charlie and Renee to protect me and for that, I will always be grateful. Because as much as people know me as Isabella Swan, I am much more than the teenage girl that has been created.

Few know who I really am, as it should be. I am a secret, a weapon, a gift, and a fear all rolled into one. I do what I can to help others but am aware of my limits until I come of age, until I am presented to those who still listen, still believe. Keeping the secret has never been difficult in all of my years here, because there was never anyone to tell. Charlie and Renee know the story because they must know it. They don't speak of it, mostly because most people wouldn't believe them.

There are many times I wish I could tell the truth, share my secret with someone, but there is no one yet with whom I would like to confide in. There is no one to share my life with, no one to hold my heart and trade lives with. It is, perhaps, a good thing, as falling in love while I am here is possibly the worst-case scenario. It is forbidden, a love that can never be allowed.

But as is always the case, the Fates line up lives in a way they find necessary. I have no choice in the manner, not really. So when I wake up one morning and make my way to Forks High School, I don't think much of what is happening around me. The world weaves in and out of my mind like the threads of my mother's looms. There is cattiness from the girls that I cannot stand and admiration from the boys that make me preen on the inside, though I feign embarrassment in front of everyone else.

And then my world completely changes. A boy, who sits in the far corner of the cafeteria, captures my attention. There are others who sit around him, but I notice only him, the way his skin is almost translucent beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, the way his eyes stare at nothing. A shiver of warning runs through me. He is not of this world, not the way the others are, but he is not one of my own, though he could be with the lines and angles of an almost-perfect face.

I do not know what he is. There is a mixture of light and darkness inside of him, good and evil, life and death. I see it all over his skin, in his face. I ask who he is because, even from across the room, I can sense his power, so much like my own though varying in strength.

"That's Edward," a voice scoffs at my side and his name winds around me like the finest silk from Greece. I repeat his name, softly and almost to myself, but his head turns the slightest bit and his eyes focus in on me. His eyebrows are drawn together, confused and yet also intrigued. His lips part and he seems to be speaking to the others at the table with him but no one reacts.

Like a harsh warning from above, a sudden whistle seems to pierce through the air, a high-pitched keening that can only be the shrill song of a Siren. A silent wind seems to brush through my hair, over my skin, altering the air like a weapon that slices past me. The sounds are so sharp, so clear that I look around me as discreetly as I can, to see if any of my kind are present. Across the room, one of Edward's companions – a thin, stoic-looking man – turns to face me. His eyes are blazing and the gasp that escapes my lips is harsh.

"Bella? Are you okay?"

No! I want to scream. I will never be okay, not anymore.

The occupants of Edward's table all stand and walk to the cafeteria doors. They move like dancers, lithe and elegant, and I am reminded of the beauty and grace from the mountains. Edward pauses and looks over his shoulder at me and I know, in that moment, how different he truly is. The look in his eyes mesmerizes me and I feel myself sinking into my own thoughts, my own emotions.

He is the one I have been unknowingly searching for all my years on this Earth. He holds a power that I believe can take me to places I have only visited in my dreams, but that can also kill me, can bring me to my demise. He is my savior but he is also my murderer.

Without thinking, I reach for the chain that rests against my neck. The thin strand of metal is warm against my skin and my fingers play with the pendant that dangles preciously from it. The one reminder of home, of who I truly am, is there, encased in a small glass teardrop. The pomegranate seed is small and deep red, but it holds much more than anyone could ever guess. The words my parents once told me, a long time ago it seems, echo through my mind and I know – I know – that I have found the person I want to share this seed with. I can't though, I won't, because he is not mine, can never be mine. He is a mortal as far as I can tell and falling for a mortal is forbidden for someone like me.

I can pretend all I want that I am Isabella Swan, daughter of the Chief of Police, but it is a lie, a story that, for the first time, I wish is true. The reality is that I am a goddess, born of a god whose very being rivals that of Zeus and a goddess who sacrifices more than anyone ever should. Their power of life and death runs through my veins, makes me who I am.

I am Melantha, a goddess from Mount Olympus and a future ruler of the Underworld.

Thank you to Sara for the beta work.