CHAPTER EIGHT:
ON MY LIPS

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TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. ONE more day until the Volturi would arrive in Forks' and Ofelia and the witnesses would put their lives on the line for the Cullens, for little Renesmee, who now looked about eight-years-old but still clung to her mother's hip like a toddler. The tension in the air was more prevalent than ever. Everyone was either training, hunting, or spending borrowed time with their loved ones. They would've killed to have had Alice's gift in that moment, to know what the outcome of tomorrow would be. No one wanted to die with things left unsaid, Ofelia included. There was a lot she carried with her, but twenty-four hours was nowhere enough time to let it out into the world, to put it to rest in a shallow grave. So she kept it to herself, simply watching as covens held each other just that bit tighter, no one wanting to stray too far.

Apart from Jasper, Peter and Charlotte were the only ones who Ofelia would truly feel the loss of. Well, if she didn't die first, that is. She wanted them to know how much she cared, even loved the three of them, but the words just wouldn't come. They knew, though, or at least she hoped they did.

Before they knew it, dawn had faded into dusk, and there was nothing left to delay the inevitable. Under the soft haze of a pale pink and yellow sky, the group of witnesses set off into the forest, moving like silent, obedient soldiers through the trees, one after the other, a line of walking corpses. The Cullens had deemed it safer to set up camp and wait on the outskirts of the clearing than it was to stay at the house and potentially be the victims of a sudden surprise attack. Ofelia definitely wasn't looking forward to a long night camping, none of the witnesses were, but she didn't complain as she followed after Peter and Charlotte, silently helping the couple put up a tent once they arrived. Sure, they couldn't sleep, but it would be nice if they wanted a second of privacy. And after hearing Renesmee kicking and screaming in her mother's arms about how she 'didn't want to be the only one left inside' Ofelia had taken it upon herself to help the girl out, insisting that Renesmee built her little tent beside her own. After that, she had done so happily, tugging Bella and Edward along with an eagerness that only a child could possess.

And with that, it was night time. Nothing but a mere eight hours remained until everything would change forever. The air was cold and icy against their skin, but Jacob and Benjamin had set up a fire in the centre of the ring of tents. The humans and a few of the vampires who didn't mind the close proximity to fire huddled around it with Renesmee at their feet, her tiny hands tucked into a pair of woolly mittens, until it was time for her to sleep and Bella had to forcefully carry her back to her tent. Without her constant chatter filling the air, it was now dead silent, the wary vampires standing around motionless in the shadows. Peter and Charlotte were among the group, but Ofelia had separated from them when she spotted Jasper taking a seat opposite Jacob Black. She tucked herself into Jasper's side, stubbornly ignoring his smile as her eyes met Jacob's through the flames.

"This is what I'm talkin' about," he was in the middle of saying to a beaming Benjamin, who had Tia sitting by his side, an arm around her shoulders. "A pre-battle bonfire, telling war stories..."

"Oh, you want to hear war stories?" Ofelia questioned, a grin tugging at her lips as she felt Jasper's elbow nudge against her ribs. "I have a few if you're interested."

"Sure," Jacob shrugged, but upon noticing the cluster of frozen vamps behind her, he let out a defeated sigh. "But it's fine. We can just sit around like frickin' statues instead."

Ofelia followed his gaze with an amused laugh. She quickly gestured for Peter and Charlotte to come over, but it was actually Garrett who made the first move. In a blink, he was sitting on Ofelia's other side with an excited smirk, pointing at Jacob like he'd just been offered his greatest challenge yet. "Name any American battle. I was there."

"Oh, really? Any battle, ever?" Ofelia raised a sceptical eyebrow. When he just nodded and winked at her, she sighed and offered up, "What about Little Bighorn?"

"I came this close to biting Custer," he said, holding his hand up with his thumb and forefinger just an inch apart. "But the Indians got him first."

Immediately, Ofelia and Jasper scoffed in unison, the impressed glint of Jacob's eyes dimming at the sound. "That's bullshit," Ofelia insisted.

But Garrett just shook his head stubbornly. "It's not. I swear it."

"Hm, in that case," Kate piped up as she wandered over to sit on his lap. "Try Oleg's assault on Constantinople. He didn't win that one on his own."

Slowly but surely, more and more vampires came to join them around the fire. Ofelia noticed Peter and Charlotte hanging back, Charlotte looking visibly nervous at the topic they'd chosen, but was quickly distracted by the Irish Coven crowding up on the end of their bench before she could say anything.

"If you're talking battles, you're talking the Eleven Years' War," the man, who Ofelia believed was named Liam, grumbled as the redhead beside him put her arm around his back. "No one does rebellion like the Irish."

"But you lost the Eleven Years War," Jasper pointed out, accent warm like honey melting in the snow.

"Aye," Liam laughed and nodded. "But it was one hell of a rebellion."

Soon enough, everyone had joined them, even Peter and Charlotte. Ofelia nudged Garrett and Kate further down the bench, allowing the two nomads to huddle in beside her and Jasper. Before she could change her mind, she reached for Charlotte's hand and squeezed it hard. The touch seemed to shock the girl, but a second later, the palm of her hand was turning around to press against Ofelia's. The two girls shared a nervous, hesitant smile, before the presence of the Romanians caused the look to falter into matching frowns. Even the fire seemed to fade into embers with Vladimir and Stefan around. They were the gloom of a cloudy day, the rain to each other's thunder, with their sour expressions and discussion of failure against the Volturi. Not exactly reassuring with what was to come, but the rest of the group found themselves fascinated by the descriptions of burning castles and lost crowns.

"When we ruled, everything came to us," Vladimir was saying, red eyes bright like blood pooling across marble. "Prey, diplomats, favour seekers. Such was our power. But we never put on white hats and called ourselves saints."

"We were honest about what we were," Stefan added, with a melancholic edge to his voice. Ofelia didn't trust the sound, but found her head resting on Jasper's shoulder as she listened to the story, lost in thought.

"We sat still for a very long time. We didn't notice we were beginning to petrify."

"Perhaps, the Volturi did us a favour when they burned our castles," Stefan sighed, but Ofelia immediately knew that wasn't the truth. The Romanians wouldn't have been there with them if they weren't still angry, still eager for some kind of justice, revenge.

And Vladimir's next words said as such. "We've been waiting fifteen hundred years to return that favour, and have been ready to do battle for ages..."

At some point, Jasper tensed beneath her, like he was preparing to face his deepest, darkest demons, and gently nudged her head away from his shoulder. Ofelia sat up with a wary glance in his direction, but she bit her tongue when she saw him pulling Jacob far enough out of earshot, knowing he wouldn't wander far away without telling her first. And she was right. Just seconds later, Jacob was returning on his own, sending a nod in her direction that Ofelia didn't understand until Jasper came back over to her with a hand outstretched for her to take.

"Come on," he murmured when she visibly hesitated. "I've got something I need to show you."

Ofelia sighed and slowly swapped Charlotte's hand for Jaspers. The two left the clearing with the stares of Jasper's family on their backs, but no one made a move to follow them or to say anything as they wandered further into the forest. The trees were thicker in this part, leaving Ofelia and Jasper to weave through them like a maze, until they were coming up to the river that marked the separation of Cullen and La Push land. Ofelia began to slow down but Jasper pushed on, tugging her along the edge until they were crossing the line completely and trekking up a series of windy cliff-sides.

"We shouldn't be here," she muttered while eyeing the shrubbery anxiously, like she expected one of the wolves to leap out at any second and tear her head right off her shoulders. "Jasper..."

"It's alright," he assured her with a gentle squeeze of her hand. "I asked Jacob to take you up here. We don't have long, but we're not breaking any rules."

At first, Ofelia was confused. What did he mean by 'up here?' But the higher they climbed, the more it made sense. Suddenly, the trees thinned out until nothing but open sky could be seen, and a never-ending drop into the darkness below. The scent of salt water was pungent in the air, the silence broken by crickets and the routine crashes of waves against the rocky ledge beneath them. They were at the La Push cliffs, on top of the tallest one. For as far as the eye could see, the ocean and starlight stretched on for miles. Ofelia could've flung herself over the edge right then and there, finally free of this. But for the moment, she decided to stay, looking at Jasper curiously as he dropped her hand and paced along the grassy edge with an unreadable frown on his face.

"Not that I don't appreciate the view, Jas," she said as impatience began to set in. "But you said we didn't have much time here. Is everything okay?"

Jasper forced himself to stop in front of her, honey gold clashing with blood red. Slowly, he took her hand again, and Ofelia swallowed thickly at the strange feeling that tore across her skin, like miniature bolts of lightning had touched down on her palm against his. The sensation was familiar but oh-so different. Around them, the air seemed to shift, soft yet tense.

"Jasper?" she murmured, nudging herself closer to him when he didn't answer. "Jasper, what are we--"

She was cut off by the sudden firm press of his lips on hers. In an instant, Ofelia Torres was crumbling like a house of cards, then rebuilding like a roaring phoenix rising from the ashes. Her hands dropped his, to which Jasper's body froze against hers anxiously, but she stopped him from stepping away by quickly pulling him in closer, her hands on the back of his neck, lips memorising the melancholic feeling of his own.

The universe had to be pulling some kind of cruel trick on Ofelia Torres and Jasper Hale. The rosary around her neck felt impossibly heavy, like someone had taken a boulder and tied her to it instead. For a creature like her, Ofelia was supposed to have forever to indulge in intimate moments like these. An endless amount of chances to kiss the boy she loved. But tomorrow, her chances would be dashed. For what she knew then, all she had was this final moment, where seconds stretched to minutes of borrowed time. Jasper knew it too, for he pulled away as she tried to draw him in closer, and whispered eighteen weighted words that felt like he had drawn a noose around Ofelia's throat.

"I want you to stay, Ofelia. It might be selfish of me, but I want you to stay."

I can't, her mind immediately whispered as their lips ghosted away from each other but stayed close enough together to taste the other's breath. I won't, Jasper, I'm sorry.

But she couldn't help kissing him again, unable to bear this empty feeling all around her, and Jasper took that as a yes. Maybe it was easier this way. Just another one of those things that Ofelia Torres found better left unsaid. For when words failed, she would have this, until the Volturi took that from her too.