From Ash to Dust

by AceTheWriter

From Ash to Dust is, simply put, an epilogue of sorts for Volume 3 of RWBY. Taking place entirely between the events of Volumes 3 and 4, see how characters reacted to the horrors of the Fall of Beacon, instead of such potential character arcs and growing points simply being glossed over.

From Ash to Dust

Prologue

"Do you believe in destiny?"

The words echoed in Jaune's head for the millionth time, reminding him yet again of his failure; he felt as dead as Pyrrha, and his hours of wallowing since then hadn't changed that a bit. Now, he stumbled down the streets outside of what remained of Beacon Academy, simply pondering if he really had any reason to continue and press on in opposition to the seemingly insurmountable odds. Even the land itself reflected such hopelessness; in the rough week since the initial "Fall of Beacon", as folk had begun to call it, the sun seemingly hadn't rose, with the sky bleeding its dreary rainfall nonstop, and the streets dead silent, entirely clear of Grimm or survivors. He wondered what'd become of Team RWBY; men under orders of her father had come for Weiss almost immediately, and Blake had seemingly deserted. Yang's arm was dismembered as easily as one might cut a stick of butter apart, and Ruby herself… he'd never forget the burst of silver light her power had covered the world in, but now, even she had left for home. "What of Team JNPR?", a sly voice within his mind asked, softly, "Do you remember them? Those three of your friends, under your trusting command? Those three which you ran from at the first chance, only to wallow out here in the empty streets, because things didn't work out with some girl? Did you truly, honestly think that things would've worked out between the two of you anyway? As if you're in her league, you bigot. You're lucky she ever so much as kissed you." The thoughts continued, thoughts of his foolishness, thoughts of his weakness. Together, they destroyed what little remained of Jaune's resolve. Within moments, he couldn't bear to continue his pointless wandering, and slumped against the side of a demolished building. The sign, "From Dust Till Dawn", had fallen, and laid on the cobblestone street in four pieces. Three stood relatively close together, if still broken apart, while the other sat a good yard away, leaning against a bent streetlight. He remembered walking past it countless times, with a smile on his face, and not a care in the world…. What a fool he'd been to not treasure those fleeting moments. His head dipped, facing the ground as he sobbed, in realization that never again would such be possible; of that he'd grown certain. There he sat, unmoving, and unchanging, but certainly breaking.