The Grimm floated through the hallways of the castle, passing through countless windows that displayed a landscape of burning stone and viscous black lakes. The dark presence of its brethren surrounded it, new nightmares being born every second, older ones gaining strength. Soon, they would leave their twisted world and invade the other one.
The world filled with light.
The world of prey.
The Grimm reached the throne room and stopped to float at the side of its master. Its tentacles wavered close to her ear, whispering news of the light-world – darkness had seeped in, almost won over, but the prey had been too strong. Somehow, they had defended themselves. And the darkness' herald had laid down her arms and was now under the enemy's control, but refused to-
"Enough. I have waited thousands of years for this moment. What are a few more in the scope of that?"
The master raised her veiny fingers to caress the Grimm. On the light-world, her remaining heralds shuddered in disgust, dread, and elation.
"Let Ozpin amass his army. Let him have his faith. It will be crushed under the weight of his own failure."
"There will always be heroes. And in time…"
Salem rose from her throne.
"…they will all burn."
