Prologue

The cold northern wind bites into my skin as I run through one of the many clusters of trees that dots the island, their branches catching on my skin and what's left of my hood, their leaves tugging at my matted hair.

After five years I know this island. Every tree, every stone, every plant and every cave, I have explored them all, and know them so well that I could traverse the island just as fast in the dead of night, as I am now.

Coming to a ledge that would give even a seasoned athlete pause I don't slow down. Instead, I jump from the top and grab onto the branch of a long dead tree using the momentum to continue onward through the dense brush.

My breath is coming in short ragged gasps. I'm not pacing myself and it's causing me to run short of breath. A rookie mistake, but I can't help myself.

I can see them hovering overhead, just over the bay of the island; a dust plane. Their moving slowly over the island, and I'm not sure if their sightseeing or if they just needed to reduce speed momentarily.

I don't know the reason they're here and I honestly don't care. Their my way off this island. After five long years I finally have a chance. Hope, a feeling that I haven't felt in a long time, blossoms in my chest.

For years now, I have lived alone on this desolate rock that barely qualifies as an island, one thought going through my mind: survive. Survive and one day return home.

And know a way home has finally appeared.

But I'll lose my chance if I don't move fast enough.

Breaking through the tree line, without missing a step, I run straight for an almost perfectly sheer cliff face. Without pausing I begin climbing, headless of the danger of falling, the grip of my bare hands and feet sure and steady and a few moments later I find myself at the top of the cliff.

Continuing along the top, a lethal drop on either side of me, I sprint towards my goal.

Reaching a plateau overlooking the ocean, I uncover a small bundle wrapped in what's left of the life raft I drifted ashore on, the only piece of waterproof material on the Island, as far as I know.

I glance skyward to make sure the dust plane is still overhead. Missing this chance could very well kill me, but if I end up remaining stuck here, than wasting my limited resources would guarantee my death.

I breathe a quick sigh of relief as I spot the dust plane, further along the shore but still within sight.

Unwrapping the bundle in my hands I carefully set my prize on the ground in front of me. Before me lies the key to my rescue, although it doesn't look like much; a recurve bow and several arrows with red arrowheads that glow, ever so slightly, in the dim morning light.

Archaic weapons by modern standards, but the best I could manage out here.

The wood of the bow, once polished to an almost mirror finish, is now faded. The string connecting the arms of the bow is slightly frayed but still strong.

I nock the arrow and pull the string even with my cheek. I channel a small amount of my Aura down my left arm into the arrowhead, causing the Dust to glow bright red and give off a few sparks.

Unstable, but more than I could hope for, as far as unrefined Dust goes.

I adjust my aim to compensate for the wind and let the arrow fly. It arcs through the air leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. A few seconds later it connects with the intended target, a pile of Dust and dry wood I'd collected from around the island.

The resulting explosion is so strong that I can feel the concussive forces even from my vantage point across the bay. I stare at the dust plane praying that someone notices the pillar of fire reaching into the sky and for one moment, as they continue on their present course, I feel fear grip my heart.

But suddenly they turn and a spotlight shines onto the beach, centered on the bonfire left in the wake of the explosion. A few moments later I can see them begin making preparations to land.

I set the bow down and began to make my way down to them as fast as I possibly could.

The closer I get to the shore the more I can feel the jagged edges of the rocks biting into my feet. Everything about this Island feels as though it was created to bring misery to anyone unfortunate enough to set foot on it. Even the beach, which should be made of sand, is instead covered in jagged black rocks.

But misery is a crucible and it is possible to find a blessing mixed within every curse. As it turns out, the stones that covered the beach were made of obsidian and I was able to use them to craft arrowheads. Without the steady supply of ammunition they provided I wouldn't have been able to survive this long.

As I draw near the dust plane I can see that people in grey and blue uniforms have exited and are now searching the beach.

I can see them looking at one of the defensive line I placed along the shore, a series of Grimm masks infused with small amounts of my Aura. It did a good job of repelling the Grimm but it was double edged sword. It kept most Grimm from coming onto the Island… but it also prevented the Grimm already here from leaving.

Over the years I had done my best to exterminate them, but a place like this, so steeped in negative feelings, draws them like flies to honey and my perimeter can only do so much.

One of them notices me as I walk towards them. With a shout to his friends they all turn towards me, raising their guns as they did so. I blinked at that. Soldier's maybe? They all had matching uniforms and clearly had some kind of training if they were this coordinated.

I fall to my knees ignoring the rocks digging into me, half to try and appear non-threatening and half because I honestly don't think I can remain standing for much longer.

The sheer relief at seeing other people, at having a way off this island after so long was nearly overwhelming.

They approach me with their guns still raised and I feel like their being overly cautious, but it's not like I can blame them. I can't imagine that I look like someone you would want to find on a supposedly deserted island.

The leader of the group approaches and starts asking questions. Or at least I think he's their leader. His uniform has the same color scheme as the others but his armor is bulkier and his helmet has a different design.

My voice is raw, the words rough around the edges after having not been in use for so long. But I get my story across all the same. It only takes a few moments to convince him of who I am and what had happened to maroon me on the island.

He returns into the dust plane to report to his superior and comes out a minute later ordering his men to stand down, saying that they had been ordered to return to base with me.

The rest was history. They followed me back to the cave I had been taking shelter in (even after five years I refused to think of it as 'home') and I collected what few possessions I didn't want to leave behind.

After that, within the hour, I had boarded the dust plane and we were on our way to their home base in Atlas, the closest of the four kingdoms. I was told that there, I would receive medical treatment if necessary and after that I would be flown to Vale to be reunited with my family.

I look out the window at the receding form of the island as it grows smaller and smaller in the distance.

Its name was Lian Yu. It's an old name, originating in Vacuo, meaning Purgatory.

A more apt name does not exist for that place in this, or any other language spoken on Remnant.

The island held many dangers. In order to live I had to become something more than what I was, to forge myself into a weapon.

I am returning home, not the boy who was shipwrecked, but the man who will bring justice to those who have poisoned my city.

My name is Jaune Arc.

AN: If you're reading this then odds are you've probably already read '160 Feet per Second' by The Inner Hollow, but if you haven't I suggest doing so immediately. It's a really good read and it was what inspired me to write this fic.