She arrived late noon, bringing with her a clash of thunder as lightening streaked the graying sky. It seemed the heavens were just as against her visit. Still, she was here and there was no turning back. Her fate was to unravel for a purpose. She was born with the mark of the stone. It was inevitable she would face the ensuing battle.

For the past five months I had been observing this girls confidence and sure footed stubbornness, proving it was the reason she was named after the stone for more than just holding its power. Only at times I could see that even a girl of such vast strength could hold an inner weakness. In crowded rooms she became quiet, anxious, refraining from social contact. I was eager to learn why.

The Cullen's gardener grabbed her luggage and carried it up the steps to the manor. There he paused and looked out beyond the driveway. Maybe he sensed me. Maybe he feared as much as I what was about to happen.