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We all stood in silence, our minds racing as we tried to process the prophecy's revelations. It was obvious the prophecy referred to me—why else would the Salem Thirteen have guarded it so fiercely until now? Until I had turned, and they witnessed my inexplicable survival. Did they truly believe I was the one destined to weave chaos? The words felt more like a forewarning of my descent into darkness than anything else.
"It could mean many things, Charlotte," my Grams said, her voice calm and steady as it filled the room. My eyes snapped to hers, my concern undoubtedly written all over my face.
"It sounds like I'm destined to destroy everything," I said, my voice trembling under the weight of the thought. The prophecy painted me as a harbinger of chaos, a force of destruction—and those were the parts that struck me the hardest, the ones that filled me with fear.
"Or bring about something better," my Grams offered, her tone hopeful, as though trying to cast the prophecy in a more positive light.
I shook my head sharply, the tension in my chest threatening to burst. "Better?" I snapped, my voice rising. "How does any of this sound better? Harbinger of chaos? Power of destruction? How can you spin that into something positive?"
The room grew heavy with my outburst, the air thick and charged. Emmett's grip on my hand tightened, grounding me, but even that wasn't enough to temper the fire raging inside me.
"Charlotte," my Grams began, her voice calm but firm, "prophecies are rarely straightforward. They can sound ominous, but the meaning isn't always as dark as it appears. It's about interpretation—"
"Interpretation?" I cut her off, my frustration spilling over. "This doesn't sound like it's up for debate, Grams. It's written clear as day: chaos, destruction, doom. How am I supposed to find anything good in that?"
Her softened expression only made me angrier, as if her calm was meant to counter my storm. I pulled my hand away from Emmett and started pacing, the movement barely an outlet for the overwhelming emotions threatening to drown me.
"Charlotte, stay calm," Emmett said softly, stepping closer as he noticed the cracks in my composure, the storm building inside me. He could see I was teetering on the edge, overwhelmed once again. "We don't have to think about it now," he said gently, his voice a steady anchor.
"There's nothing else I can do!" I shouted, my voice trembling with anger and grief. "I can't eat, blink, breathe, sleep! Everything I was—everything that made me human—is gone. To become this!" I gestured to myself, my hands trembling with barely restrained fury. "For eternity, I will think,"
"Charlotte, stop," Emmett urged, stepping closer, his expression pained. "None of us wanted this for you," Emmett's voice rose slightly, the weight of his words pressing through the air. "We wanted you to stay as you were, to keep living your life the way you wanted. The Volturi did this—they're the ones to blame."
