You know what I want? To write a King Arthur fic. You must have seen that movie… the one with Clive Owen? How many stories there are to be uncovered… I just love writing about new stuff. So if any of you love those sexy men in their sexy armor, then go read it when I post it.

A Delphian Utopia



Jordan was burning up. He was so hot that even the flimsy sheet of his hotel bed seemed too much, like it was pushing him beneath the magma of the volcano erupting in his chest. He wouldn't be surprised if his skin started bubbling, or his hands sprouted blisters while the flesh melted from his face.

Something pushed him up—and he landed with a thud against the wall at his bedside. The cool stucco was only momentary relief before his temperature made even that hot. Breathing hard through the flames in his throat, he made his way over to the bathroom, turning on the cold water of the tap. He splashed it into his face and then all over his arms, his bare torso. With no coordination, he stumbled towards the shower and turned the dial, entering it with all his clothes on.

What's happening to me? He'd had fevers before, but this felt as if the sun were inside him, burning him from his heart to his lungs. Suffering was the word that came to mind, along with torture. Did he eat something bad at that Italian restaurant? Did his mom poison him? Bollocks, if she wanted him dead, she was doing a damn good job of it.

The water was up to his chest by now, and he laid his head against the freezing porcelain. The fire quelled but did not vanish, and he felt his lips cracking from the intensity of the flame. After a brief moment—where it felt as if he'd broken the excruciating fever—there was a bright, white flash of agony.

His bones were breaking.

His skull cracked open.

His skin was crawling, shifting, rearranging.

There was only one conclusion Jordan could come to.

He was dying..

Bella moved through the trees with fluidity, her eyes landing on her home settled into the countryside not two hundred yards away. She walked over their expansive front yard and opened the door with bated breath. She had a lot to tell her family, and she could only hope they forgave her. For taking every initiative, for dragging up an old truce with their enemies, for leaving without a word to anyone except for Edward and Alice. Would Carlisle mind that she intruded on his position as decision maker, as leader?

She shook away her thoughts—there was no one home but Edward anyways.


He was before her immediately—smiling that beautiful smile of his. He wore light jeans today, with a black sweater that hugged his chest nicely. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, as if he were modeling for some modern magazine ad. Could he look any more beautiful if he tried?

"Hello," he answered, reaching out to take her bag from her, "welcome home."

She pulled it back out of his reach dropping it by her feet and intertwining their fingers instead. His lips were soft when she pressed her mouth to them, and his hands offered a welcome embrace.

"I missed you," he breathed.

"Yeah," she laughed quietly, "immersed in a town of memories, and all I could think of was you."

Edward's face fell and suddenly he was all business, "What happened?"

Bella lifted her shoulders in a large exhale, dropping them dramatically as she settled into the couch, Edward on the opposite side of it, her feet on his lap.

"You're probably going to be upset," she began slowly, "but really, if you think about it… it's not so bad."

He only raised his brows but said nothing as he traced the arch of her feet.

"The wolves have agreed to help us when the time comes. When we fight Kale."

Edward's breath cut off sharply and his eyes switched to Bella's face. "We haven't even discussed that. You know Carlisle would rather avoid aggression, why do you push it?"

She retracted her feet, leaning in towards her lover, "Edward," she said clearly, strongly, "Don't you feel like you owe something to all the innocents out there who are being massacred by our kind? You know we can stop this."

Edward gave a humorless chuckle, "Stop this?" he rose from his place, "Bella, we're not superheroes, we're vampires. The damned. The cursed. Humanity would rather die than accept help from the ones who are killing them," he looked down at her, pity mingled with disappointment in his eyes, "You can't fight Kale, Bella. You'd never win."

She took on a dangerous frown, "You don't know that. I'm almost positive that I'm capable of a lot more than you think."

It sounded like a threat, and she was certainly stiff enough in her seat to be pressuring him, but Edward could not just back down. "No, Bella. You've shown no evidence of any power except a rare immunity. In strength, you're as powerful as Esme or Rosalie. You're inexperienced in battle, and you let your emotions control you. Kale would ruin you."

She growled, her eyes going a flat, cold black, "Think something," she demanded.

He rolled his eyes, "Bella."

"Edward," she mocked with venom, "Think about something. Anything."

So he did. He thought about their first kiss, about the first night he watched her sleep, about the way she whispered his name when they made love.

She smirked, her eyes lightening, "A kiss we shared while I was human," she spoke with only truth, her honeyed eyes only on Edward, "me, as a human once more, sleeping this time," her fingers wound around his hands, "me again, whispering your name… I'm starting to think that I'm all that's on your mind."

"You are," he choked out, "Bella, why did you keep quiet about this? You can…"

"I can feel your emotions too, and see the future when Alice is near. In Volterra I froze the vampires who followed me—I'd love to know who has that power, it'd be useful," her whole face lit up now as she rambled, "I don't think it had developed before my escape, however. Kale's power never came to me when I was angry. And I was always angry around him."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I shouldn't have said those things."

She shook her head, "My actions run away with me sometimes. I should have spoken to you or to Carlisle before I asked them to help us."

"But this changes nothing, my love. We still don't have the means to take on an army. There's only so much we can do, Bella."

She nodded, a new resolve budding within her, "I'll fight forever if I have to, Kale must be killed. He's ruining this world." Her eyes closed and she smiled slightly, "I want a future where I don't have to worry about our lives every second of every day."

"Bella if Carlisle doesn't want to fight, please know that I'll go with you," he ran his thumb along her cheek, "I'll always follow you."

He remembered the dream vividly. The only thing he didn't recall was ever falling asleep.

Jordan rolled over, and his eyes widened in shocked horror. His hotel room was a mess—everything ripped, torn, thrown this way and that. It looked like a tornado had gone through it. Twice.

"Shite," he swore, his mouth flapping like a fish, "oh, mum's going to kill me."

Not only had he awoken with no clothes on, but now he was going to have to explain everything to his mother. Glancing back at the window, he weighed the pros and cons. If he jumped, she'd probably feel bad and not yell. But then he would most likely die on impact.

I don't really fancy a funeral right now…

"Wait a tick," something on the floor caught his attention, and he scooped up the wet jeans he'd gotten into the shower with. Just like in his dream they were shredded. As if he really had exploded into some hairy beast. As if he really had been running naked through the halls of the hotel in the early hours of the morning hoping against hope that no one would see him.

He dropped the indistinguishable piece of denim, moving back towards the fall wall. The stucco hardly offered him comfort now as his fingers pressed into the grain. There were stories in his family—stories his dad had made a nightly ritual before his disappearance. Or his desertion. Whatever way one chose to look at it.

Jordan sucked in a deep breath, feeling his lungs repulse the air as soon as it entered them.

"Jordie?" his mother was knocking on his door, her voice troubled, "are you ill, love?"

Was he ill? Or was he hallucinating? Going crazy?

Jordan wrapped a towel around himself, and took another breath. He opened the door a crack, peeking out at his mother in the hallway, "I'm not feeling too well, mum. I think I'll pass on the sights for today."

"Hmmm," she pressed her hand to his forehead, retracting her hand immediately, "You're quite warm. Do you want me to stay with you darling?"

He was quick to say 'no', and he shut the door immediately after she departed, sinking down the floor.

Now, he sorted out his thoughts, to figure out what the hell is going on.

Volterra, New Order

3rd of February

Kale smoothed the rose petal between his fingertips, watching as the disintegrated pieces fell back to the earth. He was in a wasteland—something out of a hallucination he'd collected from a victim. The world had been annihilated and only one, yellow rose bush remained. He walked through the empty planes, the barren deserts, the dried up oceans.

This, his mind whispered, is what you're doing.

He supposed that now a days, he'd be considered mentally ill. Crazy. And maybe he was. But was it really so bad that he'd rather linger in his delusions than the shit hole he'd made of the world?

He chuckled humorlessly, looking down at the beige brown grass. Would the world wither and die if he continued to let things progress as they were? Would it end up like this? No beauty, no water, no life? And, most importantly, was he going to do anything about it?

"I have to talk to you."

He blinked, coming out of the hallucination, and into the main are of his rooms. Ray stood behind him in a pair of black, skin tight pants and a short dress. She looked lovely, as she always had—with her hair of fire and her lips that resembled rosebuds.

"Am I going to enjoy the conversation?" he asked playfully, his eyes having finished their surveillance of her form, "or am I going to have to yell summore?"

She cracked a grin against her will—having come here set on still hating him. But does love just fall away like that?

"No," she shrugged, "no yelling. Promise."

He nodded, motioning for her to sit. She chose the chaise, stretching her legs out and reclining her head, her curtain of crimson hair falling over the back of the furniture in luxurious waves.

"So how goes the rebellion?" Ray switched her eyes to him—that odd color of honey—and then back to the ceiling, "Not as easy as it looks, Kale?"

He settled back into his chair, gripping the arms tightly between strong hands, "No. Far from easy, actually. The covens are getting larger and smaller at the same time. Our kind doesn't know if they'd rather an army behind them, or if they much prefer taking over the world alone," he sighed, ending his ramble, "It wasn't meant to be like this. I wasn't meant to be like this."

Ray felt pity creep up on her, and she tried desperately to suppress the feeling, "I don't remember you ever wanting to be in control, Kale," she smiled wickedly, licking her lips, "you always preferred to be the muscle," she looked over at him coldly, "or the mind I should say."

He glanced over at her for a moment before dropping his head, "I don't think I ever really apologized…"

"For the night you walked out on me?" she breathed, "or for the shit you put into my head not two hours before it happened?" Her voice was passive, but her face belied her heart—all twisted into a grimace.

"You drove me crazy," remorse colored his tone, "it was the only way I knew how to leave without a scene."

She bit her lip and reached out to touch his knees, "I know it was short-lived," she began, "but I loved you Kale, and seeing you again, like this, with so much on your mind…" she took a deep breath, "Kale, I'm leaving. And I'm going to help bring down the monsters you've created."

"You can't leave," he growled, "I've forbidden it."

"What are you going to do? Put me in chains?" she raised one brow, looking seductively dangerous.

"If you leave now, I can't guarantee your safety," he warned, looking to his fireplace, "you won't last a minute out there."

"That's not your concern anymore."

He roared, clenching his fists, "Go then. Follow Bella into the lion's den. You'll both die for your impulses in this war."

"We'll see." She stood, looking at him over her shoulder, "I still care about you, Kale. But don't get in my way," her footsteps were hollow as she marched across the room, reaching for the door, "I'm not afraid to kill you."

A hand wrapped around hers in the darkness and she gasped, having sensed no presence.

"It's me," Avery stepped from the darkness, looking at her through hooded red eyes, "just me."

Ray smiled quietly, readjusting her bag on her shoulder, "Well that's a relief."

Avery smiled as well, and Ray found he was exceptionally handsome when he did so, which was not often enough. His eyes flicked to her bag, and then to her face sheathed in moonlight. His smile had fallen.

"Where are you going?"

Ray looked to the night sky, to the stars, and knew that she belonged out there somewhere, fighting for the cause she saw in Bella's eyes the night of her flight.

"To fix things," she whispered, "to smooth over all of Kale's mistakes."

Avery looked back at the sewer she'd emerged from, "I'm going with you."

Ray laughed gently, "No you aren't."

"Yes," the intensity in his eyes was raw, and she felt butterflies in her stomach as his fingertips hesitantly reached out to trace her cheekbone.

"I was married to a woman when I was human," he told her softly, "a red-head. Her name was Adeline, and she was lovely, just like you are. You remind me of her. Of her laugh, and her smile, and her strength. She would frown on me now, if she knew what I've become," he dropped his hand to the curve of her neck, "I want to fight for something that makes sense, Ray, something that means more than this power-hungry struggle to be on top."

His hand once again cradled her face, and she pressed her lips to his alabaster wrist, "Okay."

proclaim eternal victory

come on and change the course of history

and pull us through

and pull us through

and this is the end

this is the end of the world

Excuse my abuse of British slang. I'm afraid I've never been there. I just watch BBC sometimes. So if you're reading this, and you're like 'we don't say that, man', then I apologise. I tried my best. Review please?