Sparks Among the Stars

by Lorithomar

At the fall of Beacon, Ozpin enacts a final, desperate plan. Now, the sparks have been lit and scattered throughout the Blind Eternities. Meanwhile, the former headmaster finds himself on a plane that he thought he would never see again. However, he is not alone, for alongside him is another soul; smaller, but more honest...

5. Chapter 5

A/N: So, before we start the chapter, I want to say a few somethings. First off, sorry for the late chapter. Real-life must come first in many/ all things. Plus, I had gotten hooked on the PBS Hemmingway documentary series. I highly recommend giving it a watch.

Secondly, there is this: I am beyond overjoyed that this story, only 4 chapters in, has a TV Tropes page. It is a nice little honor for me, though the page could still use some expansion. However, the story that inspired this one, Through The Eternities, is a story just as grand, if not more so. Without its existence, this story might not have been realized. So, I was somewhat shocked to learn that, as far as I can tell, Through The Eternities is not even on the RWBY fanfic recs page. It deserves its own page, with all the tabs. So, to anyone following this thread who has a proverbial 'in' with Tv Tropes, give Through The Eternities its own tv tropes page. And, expand on mine, too! A lot of tabs and tropes!

Thirdly, I do not own anything that even remotely gives me financial profit or creative direction and insight in RWBY, Roosterteeth, Magic: The Gathering, or Wizards of the Coast. If I did, then I would demand that they stop tantalizing us with whether or not Torchwick is alive, Emerald would have realized sooner that Cinder is a toxic wasteland of abuse/ Cinder realizing the same about Salem, and that more of the Nine Titans were still alive in the story. And that the War of the Spark story had simply been released as well-written online segments, instead of as a terrible, over-priced novel.

Finally, there is this; I know that I have been doing a weekly pace, but, to be honest, I don't think that will be a long-term thing. As Unseen Lurker pointed out to me, that is a route to burning out quickly, especially with how large I tend to write my chapters, and I do not want to get burned out on this story. So, I think it will be like this going forward; sometimes, the chapters will be shorter, and I will update when I do if that makes any sense.

Anyhoo, now that's all out of my system, on with the story….

Chapter 5: Firelight of the Warm Sun

Ruby

Ravnica

"Anyway, as I was saying, my mommy calls me Rat. I think you're cool. Wanna be friends?"

As 'Rat' looked up at her with big and wide purple eyes, Ruby felt momentarily unsure of what to do. She had never really interacted with people younger than her all that much. She knew they existed, and that she had been one, but she didn't really know what to do with them.

Still, the little girl was frankly adorable. That much, Ruby could not deny. So, she decided to just go with it. "Sure!" she replied. "Name's Ruby. Nice to meet ya, Rat."

She held out a hand with a grin, only to be given an enthusiastic hug by the little girl instead. Ruby was not ashamed to admit that the girl was rather strong for her age and size. "This is awesome!" Rat said as she squeezed and hugged. "You can see me! I've never been friends with someone from the Izzet league before who can see me! This is so cool! So cool!"

Ruby hugged her back somewhat awkwardly. This girl knew about stranger-danger, right? Was that a thing in Ravnica? Oh man, she really hoped so. But hey, she had not initiated the hug, so everything was cool, right?

Then, Xanther tapped Ruby's shoulder, breaking her musings during the awkward hug. "Uh, I hate to break this up, but maybe we should get out of the street? It's almost lunchtime, and we still have an errand to run. Also, people are starting to stare at us a bit."

Ruby nodded at that, and then looked down at Rat, who had broken the hug, and was now looking back up at her with big eyes. Ruby wasn't really used to having someone physically look up to her. It was not an unwelcome thing. "Hey, you feeling hungry? 'Cause me and my friend, Xanther are gonna get some lunch. Wanna come?"

Araithia nodded vigorously. "Sure! I'm feeling really, really hungry. I haven't eaten in like… hours!" as she said this, she gesticulated wildly as she scrunched up her face. "And that's a long time! Really long, and now my tummy is growling like a big wolf, and that's kind of funny, because I know some wolves at Vitu-Ghazi, and they're so fluffy! And, they like having their bellies scratched as well as that place between their ears, 'cause it makes their tails wag, and they give big kisses. I once saw mommy beat up a few wolves. She can do that, you know? She punched them and they started whining and ran away after she beat them up."

The little girl sure could talk. She kept talking as the trio left the street, and headed towards one of the nearby restaurants. It looked nice, and one of the signs in the window read 'All guilds welcome. You break it, then you pay for it, or you work it off in the kitchens. No refunds unless you are prepared to argue it out in the Azorius senate. We are. Are you?'

Next to that was a chalkboard detailing the specials.

It seemed busy, which, in Ruby's mind, was a sign that the food was good.

One of the waiters, a tall, thin, and austere (Ruby was going to miss her word-of-the-day-calendars)-seeming elf with grey hair and an apron, directed them to an outside table. Ruby was very happy with that, as it allowed her, Xanther, and Rat to watch the people walk by on Tin Street. Also, it was nice to get off her feet for a bit, as it had taken a good long while to walk from the Guild Hall to Tin Street.

They each ordered from the menu (for Ruby, she took a water, smoked pork sandwich with mustard, pickled onions, lettuce, and sweet pickles with a side of fried potatoes), paid the required zibs, and then settled in to wait, and chat.

"So, Rat," Ruby began. "What are you doing on Tin Street all alone? Where are your parents?"

Rat shrugged. "I'm here because I like looking at all the stuff here. And mommy says it's alright, and Boruvo says that it's fine as long as I don't do anything dumb, which I won't, 'cause I'm really smart, and I know stuff. And Tin Street is just a really cool place, you know?"

Ruby couldn't argue with… some of that. "Yeah, it is. But, still, where is your mom?"

"Oh, she's back at the Red Wastes."

That caught Xanther's attention. "You live there? In that place? Huh. Your mom's a brave woman."

Rat nodded, her head bobbing up and down rapidly. "Yup! She's also really, really strong. She once beat up a giant. She even made him cry a lot, though maybe that was because she made both his arms bend the wrong way, I think. She's really strong! That's why she's a Gruul!"

… Huh. Ruby had spent less than two weeks in Ravnica… and she could already picture that being a thing.

Wow… being a planeswalker really opened up your mental horizons.

Huh.

Also, this little girl was a Gruul!? But she didn't look all bloodthirsty and like she wanted to eat Ruby's face. But, then again, looks could be deceiving and-

"So… what's this errand you two have to run?" Rat then asked.

That really caught Xanther's attention. And Ruby's too. "Uh… what errand? What are you talking about? We're not on an errand. We're just walking through Tin Street. Yeah." Ruby said.

There was no way that the little girl would not believe her.

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid," Rat said with a small pout and crossed arms. "I heard you talking about it when after you left the Izzet place, how it was important, and how it came from the Parun and whatnot. It sounded really neat, and I was feeling a bit bored, so I wanted to see what it was all about. So… I followed you, and then I saw you take that thief down, which was awesome and so cool! How did you do that, flying through the air, and were those rose petals? It was so pretty!"

Ruby's eyes widened in surprise. "You… followed us, all the way from Nivix?"

"Yup!"

"And you were listening to us… the entire time?"

"Yup! I'm really good at listening to people. It's fun. Plus, people don't really notice me all that much, which is okay, I guess… But you two did and can, which is awesome!"

… Huh.

"Okay… and when you say that people can't see you…" Xanther began.

"Don't talk to me like I'm making this up!" Rat declared. "I am not! I don't like it when people think that I am! It's mean, and I hate it when people are mean to me!"

Xanther quickly raised their hands placatingly, as did Ruby. "Hey, hey, hey! I'm not saying you are, it's just that, well, you say we can see you, but so did the waiter, or else he couldn't have taken your order. I'm just saying."

Rat narrowed her purple eyes at Xanther in childish wrath, and then they widened with a smile. "I know what to do! I'll prove it to you! Watch this! Just don't say anything, okay?"

Upon saying that, she hopped down off her chair, and wandered over to a nearby table. Its occupants were idly chatting with each other over bites of food. Ruby and Xanther then watched in disbelief as Rat did all sorts of things. She spoke to them, waved her hands in front of their eyes, made silly faces, blew raspberries next to their ears. Even when she moved their dishes, she wasn't apparently seen, though the motions did make them glance down in bafflement for a moment.

Just like what Rat had claimed; it was as if they couldn't see her, or even acknowledge her existence!

Her demonstration complete, Rat gave a short bow, casually knocked over one of the diner's dishes, which set them out of their seats in alarm, and then returned to her seat.

Ruby honestly felt a bit flabbergasted… and also impressed.

Rat adopted a proud expression on her little face. "See? I told you. Pretty cool, huh?"

Ruby would admit, that it was indeed really cool… also kind of weird… and creepy… and also a bit sad?

Their food was soon served, and the three started to dine. While Xanther cut into their chicken and goat and potatoes and peas, and Rat started to messily devour their smoked beef ribs and vegetable soup, Ruby promptly tucked into her own meal. She took a bite, and her face lit up. Oh man, the pork sandwich was so freaking delicious! So good!

"So," she said, as she swallowed another bite of her sandwich. "That was pretty neat earlier, Rat. But, how exactly can you do that?"

"Yes, please. I've never seen anything quite like that before," Xanther added, interest alight in their eyes.

Rat looked up at them and shrugged as she finished chewing and swallowing a large bite of meat, her face already smeared with sauce. "Dunno. Just something I could always do, y'know? I mean, Boruvo thinks it has to do with a person's persa… persin… something about how a person is or something. But he used a lot of big words, and it was kinda hard to follow, but, it's something that I can do, and it is pretty cool. Helps me listen to a lot of neat things. Though, it does make making friends a bit hard for me to do, since no one really notices I'm there, or they forget super-fast… but now I got you two, right? And that's all that matters. Also, your food all looks good! Can I try a bite?"

She then proceeded to look up at them with puppy-dog eyes. Nooooo! It was as if Zwei had turned into a little human… and had thus become even more adorable!

Seeing as they were powerless to resist, Ruby and Xanther ended up sharing their food with the little girl, though at least she was gracious enough to share hers as well. It was all pretty tasty. Everything was cooked to perfection.

Still feeling a bit peckish, the trio decided to order dessert. Sure, it cost several extra zibs (about 50 or so,) but it was worth it, because it. Was. Cookies! Chocolate chip!

That alone really made Ruby's day.

Ruby and her two friends watched with bated breath and drooling mouths as the plate of hot, freshly-made gifts of the gods were placed before them.

They tasted… they tasted a little differently than she remembered chocolate-chip cookies tasting. Not less delicious in any way, of course, but just… different.

Still, the plate was swiftly reduced to a few crumbs, and even those were snapped up. Ruby felt like a ravenous beast in that moment, not willing to let even a single one of the treats pass her grip when it could be helped. Some still did, of course, but only because Xanther and Rat were just as tenacious.

By the time they departed, the afternoon sun was lounging in the sky above them, and Xanther and Ruby still had an errand to run. Rat, though, could not be persuaded to not follow them, so Ruby and Xanther decided to let her tag along.

They continued walking along the street, past more shops and stores and restaurants; past stalls and stands and wagons, and past small patrols of Boros, and close groups of other guild patrons and guildless alike.

The whole way, the trio just chatted, gushing over interesting sights, and laughing about everything and nothing. They did this, and Ruby found it to be nice, a small and kindly reminder of earlier days, walking through Beacon with Weiss, Blake, and Yang, and with Team JNPR and everyone else.

The thought made Ruby slightly melancholy for a moment, though she did her best to hide it from Xanther and Rat, the former of whom was pestering the latter for more details about her strange ability. It had been almost a week, and Ruby's life had… already changed so much….

Before she could follow that train of thought any further, though, it was promptly banished from her head, for they had arrived at Workshop Nerrit.

From the outside, it looked like any building build by the Izzet league; tall, blocky, intermittently releasing bursts of arcane energies, painted in an abundance of red and blue, and the fact that most of the pedestrians were giving it a wide berth and wary looks.

Ruby looked up at the building for a moment and then turned to Rat. "Hey, listen, we need you to wait out here for a moment, alright?"

"But why?" Rat asked with a pout.

"It's guild stuff, and unless you are a member of the Izzet League, I don't think you're allowed in there," Ruby said. Just wait out here, and we'll be right back okay?"

In response, Rat looked up at her with big, soulful… puppy-dog eyes…

Aww, just like Zwei- no! No, no. Must. Resist. Puppy eyes! Must. Resist!

Ruby slapped her cheeks… several times, to reinforce herself. Which resulted in her having sore cheeks. She then let loose a small sigh of defeat. Darn those puppy-dog eyes! "Then again, maybe I can deputize you as a temporary member of the Izzet League, as a… laboratory assistant! Yeah, that sounds about right!"

"Uh, I don't think that's actually allowed, Ruby-" Xanther began.

"But there also isn't anything saying that there isn't, right? Besides, look at her!" Ruby then slung an arm around Rat, who seemingly amped up her puppy-dog look to an almost unearthly degree. "Can you really refuse this face?"

To Xanther's credit, they held out a good deal longer than Ruby… but they too, crumbled before Rat's second power; her power of being adorable. Xanther let out a groan and palmed their own face. "Ugh. Fine, but she keeps her hands to herself. This workshop deals with a bunch of experimental stuff, and we don't want an accidental explosion happening… at least one outside of an experiment. You got that, kid?"

Rat nodded enthusiastically. "You got it!"

With that settled, Ruby confidently strode up to the front door and yanked on the cord that hung by the bell.

A small klaxon blared out, and the trio waited.

And waited.

And waited.

No one answered.

Ruby exchanged a confused look with Xanther. "The… the message said that we would be expected, right?"

Ruby shrugged, and then reached for the door's dragon-head-shaped handle. She turned it and pushed the door inwards. It opened with a creeeak.

"Uh… hello?" Ruby called out.

The empty entrance hall gave no reply. There was a receptionist desk, but it was unmanned.

Wait… why was there still a cup of tea on the desk?

Keeping one hand perched on Crescent Rose, Ruby inched forward, while gesturing to Xanther to keep Rat back.

Closer. Closer. Closer. Close enough to note that the tea was still steaming…

Ruby then peered over the desk and… she gasped.

There was a person, sprawled on the floor atop a large puddle of blood. The massive gash in his throat gave Ruby a good idea as to where the blood had come from. The man's face was contorted in what looked like… fear? But right now, she really didn't want to look at it too much.

She swallowed, pulled away, and turned back to the entrance. "Keep Rat there, Xanther!" she cried out. "I'll… see if anyone is still here."

She made a slight gesture over her throat so that Xanther got a general idea.

Unfurling Crescent Rose, Ruby then headed off past the desk and dead body into the building.

The further she went in, the more she began to realize that something truly horrific had taken place here. Blood was splattered across the wall, and any machinery that she saw had been smashed and wrecked beyond repair.

Then there were the bodies. Some looked untouched, save for the looks of horror frozen on their dead faces. Others hardly looked like bodies at all, for they had been torn apart limb from limb. Everything reeked of blood and other horrific odors.

Oh, Oum, there was... so much blood... and the smell...

A moment later, she tasted her sandwich and pickled onions and potatoes and the cookies again, but in a way that they were never meant to be tasted. They splattered over the floor next to... the corpses.

She kept emptying her stomach for a moment until there was nothing left but dry heaves and a horrid taste in her mouth.

She took a few deep breaths, and then Ruby steeled herself and kept onwards. She kept walking being careful not to step in anything and doing her best not to look too closely at any of the bodies. In her mind, she could hear screams...

… Beacon was burning…

… "This was not an accident…."

…The fire consumed them, as people screamed…

It became hard to breathe, it was too much, too much, too much, oh Oum, oh Oum...

The sound of a pained groan snapped her back to the present. Someone was still alive!

As quickly as she could, Ruby activated her semblance and zipped through the building's corridors following the pained sounds. Eventually, she came to what seemed to be the workshop's main laboratory. All the machinery and items within had been smashed to bits. Sparks were flying everywhere, and some of it was on fire.

The groan was coming from the person slumped against the far wall. Ruby made her way past the rest of the bodies and the shattered machinery to him.

It was a vedalken, and he was in a bad way, to say the least. One of his eyes was nothing but a bloody mess, his left leg looked like it had been put through a meat tenderizer, and his lower torso was all but drenched in blood.

Ruby wasn't an expert, but she could tell that he did not have long. Still, she did her best to prop him up. "I'm from Nivix," she said. "What happened? Can you hear me?"

He looked at her with an unfocused eye. "Figures… attacked us. Killed everyone here… were… looking for… it…"

"For what?"

He coughed, drenching his chin and chest in blood. "What… you… were sent.. to receive… you mustn't… let them have it… I wouldn't tell them… wouldn't let them… take it…I remained… loyal… to the parun…"

"That doesn't matter right now," Ruby stammered, as she vainly tried to staunch the wound on his midriff. "We need to get you some help-"

He yanked at her collar, jerking her down slightly with a strength of a dying man. "No… time." He hissed through bloody teeth. "Here…"

With his other hand, he traced a quick series of symbols on the floor. The floor then lit up in a dizzying and dazzling display of blue and red… and white and black and green.

The lines then flared some other color, one she could not recognize or name, and then they began to snake across the room towards the vedalken's hand.

Ruby watched with wide eyes as the lines seemed to coalesce and rise from the ground, forming some sort of… object. She was not sure what it was, only that it was never seemed to be one shape for long, and that it was comprised of what looked like intricate and pulsating latticework.

Whatever it was… it was beautiful… and terrible to look at, and Ruby did not know why any of that was.

With urgency, he thrust it towards her. "Take… it," he groaned. "Get it… to Nivix. Keep… it safe. Please. Please."

Ruby did not know what to do… except to reach out and take it. It felt all at once warm, and cold, and hard and soft and like… nothing.

She looked back up to her fellow guild member, only to see that he was no longer with her, and his remaining eye was staring at nothing.

Ruby swallowed, rose to her feet, cradled the object in the crook of her arm, and then activated her semblance and zoomed out of the laboratory, past the bodies and shattered machinery. She practically flew back around the corners and through the corridors, and past the front desk. She deactivated it and stumbled/ dashed out the front door. "We gotta go!" she yelled to Xanther and Rat, as she pushed the two forward with urgency. "No time to explain! We need to get to Nivix ASAP! NOW!"

The three had barely gone perhaps fifty steps away when Workshop Nerrit suddenly exploded.

xxxxxxx

Pyrrha

As the lid sealed shut with a hiss, Pyrrha tried desperately to feel no regret. There was no time, after all. She had chosen this.

Then, the pain came. Slowly, at first, and it felt negligible, like little pinches, or like when her leg fell asleep after she sat on it for too long.

Then, it began to increase, and it started to feel as if a liquid fire was being slowly pumped into her veins. She tried her best not to scream, but it felt as if someone was taking a wheat-thrasher to her insides, to her nerves, to her soul! It kept increasing, rising and rising, until she could do little else but scream. She screamed as a warm orange glow began to surround her.

She saw Jaune rush back from the door, and she saw Ozpin turn…

The door exploded, there was a sound of shattering glass, and then, the pain began to recede.

As it lessened, she saw the woman, the one on the screen from the coliseum. Pyrrha saw her rise in the air, surrounded by a corona of fire and orange light.

She knew that it had failed. The maiden's powers had transferred to the one that had killed Amber.

She watched as Jaune charged forward. He looked so valiant. And Pyrrha watched in horror as the woman all but tore him apart, shattering his sword, his shield, his arm, and then burrowed fiery claws into his chest as she lifted him off the ground.

Then, Jaune started to scream, and the woman smiled as she burned him.

"JAUNE!" Pyrrha screamed as she pounded on the metal and glass. "JAUNE!"

The rest was a blur….

… wrenching the door off its hinges…

… "No! She's beyond you now! Take Jaune and run!"

… She kissed Jaune, as she prepared to shove him into the locker, and jettison him somewhere safe…

He pushed her away, as the fireball consumed him…

Then, there was nothing but fire and-

Theros

With a sound that fell between a scream and a gasp, Pyrrha shot up with an outstretched hand, and a flash of pain shot through her side, making her hiss in pain. Light flooded into her eyes, blurring everything, and it made her squeeze them tight against the glare. Why was it so hot?

"Easy there, hero-girl," an aged voice said, as hands gently guided her to the wall to lean against, while the hot feeling dissipated. "Try not to move too much. Alesia spent a good while stitching and binding and dressing and healing your wounds. She would be most upset if she had to start all over again. Here, just lean against the wall. There you are…"

Pyrrha blinked as her blurred vision became clearer, and saw that she was in what looked like one of the house huts from the village. Then, she saw that two women were with her inside, one of whom had just stepped back from righting her against the wall. Both had bronze-colored skin and dark eyes.

The one who had stepped back was older and seemed worn, but in a strong and hardened sort of way, and in a manner that you only attained after a full and eventful life. Her hair was grey, while her skin was leathery and wrinkled. The other was younger, perhaps on the cusp of her thirties, and her brown hair was longer, almost to her waist, and done up in simple braids. Both wore clothing similar to what the man on the road had been wearing; a strange tunic/ robe that ended at the knee, and left the arms bare up to the shoulder. The older woman wore sandals, and the younger went barefoot upon the floor and ground, her feet crusted with mud. However, the older woman also wore a leather apron and wrappings around her legs. Meanwhile, Pyrrha noted that the younger woman's arms were covered in scars from fingertip to shoulder.

The younger woman approached Pyrrha with a wooden bowl in hand, and a thick liquid was sloshing about within it. She knelt by Pyrrha's side and held the bowl up to her face. Whatever was inside, it smelled repugnant, and the stench made Pyrrha instinctively recoiled.

"It's not a poison," the old woman said, as she watched with crossed arms that still held a good deal of muscle. "It might taste like one, but it will help. Purphoros knows she's made me drink that damned brew enough times when I've banged myself up at the forge, or when I return from a hunt. Rest assured, Ilessia here knows her craft."

Pyrrha eyed the liquid as it sloshed about in the cup. Then, she eyed the woman, Ilessia, who held it in her hands. Ilessia simply pushed it forward, a healer's stern determination in her wide and dark eyes.

Pyrrha had seen that look many times… back home, and so she knew that she would lose this battle. Thus, she nodded, opened her mouth, and Ilessia took the given window. A moment later, a concoction that seemed distilled from the pure essences of boot-cleaner, mud, and boiled Brussel sprouts, tinged with Sulphur and rotten eggs, made its way down the Invincible Girl's throat. She would have preferred fighting against all the fourth-years from all four academies with one hand tied behind her back. Yes, she would have preferred anything, anything at all, to having to swallow it. But swallow it, she did.

Once the bowl was completely drained, Ilessia gave a small nod, as if in congratulations for muscling through the bitter concoction. Then, she backed away and scurried out of the hut, all without a word.

The older woman watched her leave for a moment and then turned back to Pyrrha. "My name is Lysone, by the way. What might yours be, hero-girl?"

Pyrrha looked at her. "Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos."

Lysone nodded. "A good name. You must bear it proudly."

…She pounded on the door as Jaune screamed… he smiled before the flames consumed him…

"You… you were protecting the others from that… creature," Pyrrha said.

The old woman raised an iron eyebrow at that and shook her head derisively. "Bah. That beast was moments away from tearing me into bloody offal. The best I could have hoped for was that I made the damned beast sick from indigestion, by Erebos' eyes, or that it choked on one of my bones."

"Then… why?"

"Why did I still stand between my fellows and the beast's claws and teeth? Two reasons and the first was no doubt the same reason that you charged in to attack it; it was the right thing to do, and so I could do nothing less. As for the second reason, well that's simple; I knew that I wouldn't have to fight it. I knew that you would be here, that day, to defeat and kill that monster. I dreamed it."

That caught Pyrrha's attention. "… I'm sorry, but… you what?"

"You heard me, girl," Lysone said. "I dreamed of you; I dreamed that you would come. A warrior, with hair as red as blood, and who could make metal listen whilst carrying fire in her hand. I dreamed this, and so you came. The gods gave me this, and so I knew we would be alright. Aye, and so you came. 'Twas destiny. And I thank the gods for their mercies that it was in our favor."

Pyrrha felt an odd sensation in her chest at the mention of that word. "… Do you believe in destiny, then?" she asked, almost in a whisper. "Why do you think it was destiny?"

"Of course, I do," Lysone said, looking almost affronted. "I believe in the gods, don't I? So why not destiny? The two are ever entwined, after all. 'Do I believe in destiny?' What sort of fool question is that? As for your other one? Aside from the fact that my dream came from the gods, chimeras don't just randomly drop out of the sky, hero-girl. It was fated; fated that it would be here, and fated that you would be here to stop it."

…She reached out a hand as she fell backward, as the fire consumed him…

Pyrrha blinked. "And you're alright with that? That destiny allowed that creature to tear those people apart? That it let them die?"

And what did she mean by fire in her hand?

Lysone looked at her for a good moment and then shook her head, as she gently laid Pyrrha back down. "… I think that, for now, it would be best for your wounds to mend first, hero-girl. Rest now, and we'll talk when you can leave your bed under your own power. If you need anything, just yell or scream or weep or what have you. I'll come 'round, eventually. Just rest, and let that brew of Ilessia's work its wonders."

Pyrrha wanted to demand that the woman answer her questions, but, right now, she was feeling a bit tired… and she felt that she could do with some rest.

Distantly, she could feel Lysone gently guide her back down onto the bed, and then Pyrrha could feel herself drifting away…

Xxxxxxxxx

Nora

Kaldheim

Nora hugged the fur cloak tighter around her frame as she walked. It was warm, and it felt nice. Just like Ren was warm, and just like the people they were currently with, the Tuskeri, were warm. She hoped that where they were going would be warm as well. She felt that it would be, but you could never be too sure about what would be warm, and what would be cold.

Nora liked it when things and people and places were warm. Warm, like the orphanage in Vale; warm, like the day she and Ren had gotten accepted into Beacon, and warm, like their friends. She hated it when things were cold. Cold like the endless days and nights trying to survive in the forest; cold like that orphanage in Mistral, the one on the farm, which she and Ren had slipped away from a week after they had arrived there. The people there had been awful, and so had the other children. They had been cold. It had been cold.

"Nora?" came Ren's voice. "Are you okay?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yep," she said. "I'm feeling warm. How about you?"

That earned her a small smile from him, even as he bundled himself deeper in the fur jacket he had been given. He looked like a big, fluffy, pink-eyed bundle of fluff and fur, and Nora wanted to just give him a big hug. The Tuskeri had promised them some new clothes when they made it back to their home. Nora would be sure to hold them to it. Though, she assumed that they would have to either earn them or win them. Were she to guess, it would probably be the latter, via some show of strength.

Well, she was good at breaking kneecaps, and she was (as far as she knew) the undisputed champion of arm wrestling.

They had been traveling with the people that she and Ren had met on that battlefield, the Tuskeri, as they called themselves, for a few days now. They were boisterous and loud, but they had also given her and Ren some warm coats and blankets to ward off the chill and wind, and they almost always seemed to be laughing and bragging and boasting. Nora liked them already. She couldn't wait to tell them about the grimm-carpets. Oh, wait, she had, and they had loved every minute of it!

They had been traveling overland on horses and on foot, to the east. As they did so, everything started to feel warmer, which Nora liked, a lot. The land was also starting to become a bit inhospitable, less verdant, and more as wide-open plains, but Nora wasn't really concerned with that. Neither were the Tuskeri, for that matter, as it appeared. They seemed rather familiar with it all. Every night, she and Ren got to eat with Fryllga, the woman who seemed in charge of this war party, as she called it. The dinners were fun. Sometimes, a few punch-ups broke out. They were fun to watch, but Nora also liked the parts where everyone then laughed about it good-naturedly, before, during, and after said punch-ups.

She was really starting to like these people.

Soon enough, they all came in sight of a large and jagged-looking mountain. Its peaks were shrouded in fog and clouds, and Nora could see large, flying creatures in the sky above them.

As they drew closer, a path began to take shape, winding up the mountain. There was a bit of a chill in the wind, but Nora didn't feel at ease by it, in all honesty.

The Tuskeri seemed to be growing more and more excited, the further up the mountains they went. Eventually came to what looked like a large settlement. The pathway was also framed on either side by rows of broken and bent swords. It should have looked somber, but, to Nora, it seemed like something else. It was like the weapons were proclaiming 'I was used for great things and deeds, don't ever forget it, and so here I stand!'

The war party was greeted with raucous cheering and howling from within the village, as they made their way to a large building, one that seemed to tower above all the others.

"Ah, Fryllga!" one of the guards, a woman with a shaved head and chainmail, called out. "Back in one piece?"

"Aye," Fryllga replied, "Though not for lack of trying! Is Goatleaper in?"

"That he is. Freshly returned from a good scrap; a hellkite or two were terrorizing some of the outer villages. What a battle they had. He's in a happy mood. Why? Brought in something he might like?"

"You could say that," Fryllga said, as she glanced at Ren and Nora.

The guards then threw open the doors, and the smells of cooking meat and food, and the sounds of laughter billowed outwards. It looked like a huge cafeteria, easily about 4-5 times larger than the one at Beacon, and it was filled with tables full of loud, large, and boisterous Tuskeri.

Nora liked it already.

As they walked in, Fryllga then spoke. "OY! WE'RE BACK, YOU SORRY BUNCH OF PIG STICKERS!"

That earned a round of laughter from everyone, and a small throng of people began to crowd their way around Fyrllga, greeting old friends and inquiring as to how they had all been, or shoving fists, food, and drink into hands and faces. Then, a single voice called out. "OY!"

As the room went quiet, a man wove his way through the crowd and walked up to Fyrllga. He wasn't especially tall, or as muscular as the others in the building, though he walked with an easy and swaggering grace. Like everyone else, he wore fur and leathers and chain and buckles, all of which were festooned with some steel plates, studs, and horns and tusks. A few gold rings gleamed on his fingers, and in his long, braided beard. Also, there was what looked like a large fang sticking out of the side of his head. That really caught Nora and Ren's attention.

The man looked Fryllga up and down, for a moment with narrowed eyes. "So," he said, "Still alive, eh? Those Skelle bastards not enough to kill ya?"

Fryllga returned his gaze without flinching. "Aye. We gave them a good hiding and got some good stories. Heard you did the same with a couple of fire-belchers. Guess they couldn't stand the taste of ya, eh?"

The two stared at each other for a moment, before they burst into laughter and warmly embraced. "You hoary bitch! Good to have you back!" the man declared.

"Same with you, Brokenbrow, you mad bastard. I knew the gods weren't through with ya, yet!"

As sound and laughter returned to the hall, Fryllga slung an arm around the man and then gestured to Ren and Nora. "Here. These two are Nor and Ren, as they call themselves. I found them during the battle. Oh, but how they can fight, Arni! This girl, I saw her knock the heads off five skelle with a single blow, and then punched another so hard, she tore a hole through its chest. And this boy of hers, he can dodge and move like the wind, weaving around blows like he was made of water! Terilf saw him kick a skelle with such force that he went flying. All the while, clubs and axes and swords just bounced off their skin like steel! They helped send those demon-fuckers packing, I can tell you! So, I decided to take them back with us, as part of our spoils! Also, I promised them some warmer clothes and good food!"

Arni, as he was apparently called, looked at Nora and Ren, and walked up to them. He was really only a bit taller than Ren. The man examined them for a moment and then scoffed. "I know you're not one for boasting when it's untruthful, Fryllga, but these two? They look like they would fall over from a stiff troll fart! Almost no muscle on either of them!"

Nora was not going to take that lying down, and so she put her hands on her hips and looked him dead in the eye! "Hey! Look, mister! How about you knock it back with the insults! You don't see me making fun of the giant tooth sticking out of your head, or how you're short enough to be used as a freaking step stool! Now, how about you take back what you just said, Or I whack that giant tooth through the other side of your head with my hammer! Also, there's a giant tooth sticking out of your head!"

The man crossed his arms as the laughter and merrymaking seemed to die down. Then, the room went dead quiet when he said, "what tooth?"

The air then turned heavy with something, like the moment before a heavy thunderstorm. No one laughed, no one even moved, and everyone's expression was strange and unknowable.

For a long moment, he and Nora kept staring at each other, and the only audible noise was that of Ren nervously gulping. As the seconds ticked by, Nora herself was starting to wonder if maybe she had overdone it a bit, and the smile slowly dripped from her face, though she kept her hands on her hips.

A minute passed in complete silence. Then, Ren spoke. "Please… we didn't mean any offense."

After he said that, Arni turned his gaze towards Ren for a moment. After it passed… a smile slowly broke out across Arni's face, and he started to let loose loud and boisterous guffaws, ones bereft of any malice, and that were soon echoed by everyone else in the hall. "HAHAHAHAHAHA! Ah, but that never gets old! Ha-ha! 'What tooth?' Ah, but the looks on your faces! Toralf's teeth, but that was good!"

Still laughing, he clapped Ren and Nora on their backs, the blows almost sending them stumbling. "I think I like you two! I'm Arni Brokenbrow, and I am currently the leader of this sorry tribe of hooligans and misfits! Welcome to the TuskHow about we get your bellies filled with some goat, a bit of ale, and then we'll see about getting ya both some warmer clothes, and ones with some proper protection! TUSKERI!"

"TUSKERI!" Everyone around him echoed with a cheer, as the merriment and festivities commenced once more.

Nora felt a wide grin on her face as she took it all in, and she turned to Ren, who seemed… a little unsure. "Come on, Ren!' she said. "Let's party!"

He looked at her. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, softly enough that only she could hear.

Nora nodded and slung her arm around him. "Of course, I am, silly," she said. "They're warm. And that's all that matters! Now then, enough jibber-jabber! Lets have some goat! And ale!"

She saw that put a small smile on his face, and it made her glad. "Alright. But I don't think we can legally drink yet."

"Oh please, who's gonna know?"

Oh yes, this place, these people?

They were warm. And that was all that mattered…

Xxxxxxxxx

Qrow

Innistrad

Qrow stayed in the small town for roughly three days and hardly talked to anyone during those two days. For some of it, he wandered about the town a bit. Then, along with the innkeeper, Qrow repaired the doors to the church that he had been thrown through, which had taken roughly most of a day. Then, he spent the first getting drunk off of whatever the alcohol they had here was called. The townspeople had been grateful for what he did… or he thought they had been. It had been kind of hard to tell, to be honest, since they had pretty much avoided him near the entire time he had been there. Still, he had never paid for a drink or a meal, and the innkeeper let him crash in an upstairs room. The fact that an angry mob had not run him out yet was also a plus. That had only happened once… and it had not been entirely his fault. Still, it was not the sort of thing that you could forget in a hurry.

A part of Qrow wanted to stay. He always did… but he knew it wouldn't be right to impugn on their current aloof generosity. In addition, there was also the matter of his semblance. It just…wouldn't be right, subjecting these people to his curse. He could tell that they were miserable enough as it was. No need to pile on more of that, right?

Plus, there was also the fact that he didn't really have any of what they used for money around here, and he doubted there was any exchange rate for lien here. So, better to leave sooner, rather than later.

On the third day, he told the innkeeper, Jack, that he would be heading out. He was the only one who actually talked to Qrow, and so he figured that the man deserved to know that he was heading out. Plus, Qrow had drunk a good few samples of his wares, so there was that, too.

"Sick of our hospitality already?" the innkeeper asked, as he cleaned a glass.

Qrow shrugged. "Nah, though I've had better. Need to get on the road. Never been one to stay in a single place for too long. Know anywhere good to head to? Any place that needs a huntsman? Or at least any cities?"

Jack looked at him oddly for that. "Well, you could head north, to Gavony, and to the city of Thraben. Might find something there, for a man of your talents. Road's always perilous though. Lots of things looking to kill whatever crosses their path… especially drunk travelers with big swords."

"Sounds promising. But don't worry, I think that I can take care of myself."

"I am aware of that, even if you seem to get flung through church doors for it. Well, at least with you gone, I won't have to worry about my ale supply running dry."

Qrow didn't argue on that. It was a fair point. "Maybe one day, I'll come back, and pay my tab."

"You could… but then again, maybe you won't. Doesn't make much difference to me."

Despite the low-key vitriol, the man still extended his hand, and Qrow shook it. Jack had a strong grip, and calloused. Odd, for a bartender. "When do you plan to head out?" Jack had then asked.

"In a few hours or so."

"I'd suggest you wait until at least sun-up. Only a fool walks the roads at night."

"Well, I've been called worse. But I'll consider it."

"You do that. Meanwhile, here. On the house."

He then slid a full tankard and plate of food Qrow's way. Qrow nodded his thanks and imbibed it all. Neither of them said anything more for the rest of the night. Then, Qrow went up to the room and promptly dropped off to sleep.

If he dreamed, then he didn't remember any of it. That was usually for the best.

Qrow hated it when he remembered his dreams.

The next day, Qrow rose early, just as the sun began to rise and weakly shine through the clouds. He was only barely hungover. He washed as best he could with the room's facilities, donned his clothes, made sure Harbinger was functional, and then made to leave. As he went downstairs, he saw Jack was already up, waiting for him. And, he was not alone. A few of the others were waiting as well, and they each were holding something.

Jack had given him a packet of dried food, a canteen of water, and refilled his flask; an old woman handed him a pack and sleeping roll to carry on his back, as well as flint and tinder, and a small ax for firewood; the town's leatherworker handed him a fur cloak, for the cold days.

Qrow did not know what to say, but thanks. It was an odd sensation, to say the least.

Once everything was strapped and buckled away, he made ready to leave, and then Jack spoke. "One more thing," he said, as he held out a hand. "Here. Take this."

He deposited into Qrow's hand a pendant. The decoration that dangled from the end was wrought in the same shape of the symbol from the church, and like what he had slammed that creepy bitch's face in with, it and its attaching chain gleamed silver. "A little thing to help keep you safe," Jack said. "I pray that Avacyn's radiant wings will shelter you from the darkness, and that, when the time comes, may you spend an eternity in the ground in blessed sleep."

Anywhere else, Qrow might have taken it as an insult. But, for some reason, Jack's tone seemed… sincere.

Qrow took it without a complaint and slipped it over his neck. "Didn't know you were a priest," he then said.

Jack smiled at that, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards slightly. "Didn't I know I still could be, until some lunatic with a weird weapon killed two vampires because it was the right thing to do. But, then, why else do you think I helped you repair the doors to my church?"

Qrow had chuckled at that, and the two shook hands one last time. "Keep the drinks flowing, Jack."

"Angel's speed, Qrow, and good luck."

Heh. Like Qrow hadn't heard that one before. Though… what was an angel?

Qrow headed out after that. Then, once he was a good distance away, he turned into a bird and flew away. North, as Jack had suggested.

After that, he fell into his usual routine of travel; alternate between flying and walking, then rest briefly for the night after eating, before rising up early and continue on. It was something he had turned into an art form, in all honesty. And, there was always something nice about sleeping by a campfire. Relaxing, and peaceful.

Of course, when he slept, it was with one eye open. Technically, it was somewhat safer to sleep as a bird, but he still preferred to sleep in human form. He very rarely slept in avian form, unless he had no other choice, and the few times that was, the better.

Fucking owls. He never understood why people liked the damned things so much. They were stupid, wide-eyed idiots.

Of course, though he would never sleep as a bird, he did prefer to do most of his traveling in avian form. He always covered more ground that way. It was one of the perks. People never really seemed to comprehend how much ground a bird could cover. Unlike Raven, Qrow liked being able to turn into a bird. He had always wanted to fly, when he was a kid, to soar through the sky on a draft of air, with the wind riding beneath his wings and pinions.

He could have done without the cloaca, though. But hey, you took what you got, right?

So now, here he was, traveling up north to some place called Gavony. Not that he would know if he was there already or something.

It had already been roughly two days after he had left the town, and, as night had fallen the road had started to bleed into the woods. With no other real option and in no real mood or ability to fly all night, he decided to rest. So, he had made a campfire, ate some food, took a swig from his flask, and rested, all the while keeping Harbinger within easy reach. It wasn't as if he was expecting to be attacked, but being wary was more than second nature to him by now. That came with being raised by a tribe of superstitious assholes, on top of the 30+ years of a huntsman, acting as a member of Ozpin's inner circle, and running reconnaissance missions in the hellscape that was the domain of the fucking mother of Grimm herself.

Looking back, he would admit that he hadn't been taken unaware by the attack itself, but more so by what had attacked him…. And by what had happened next….

Crack.

In the distance, the sound of a twig snapping underfoot cut its way straight through his sleepy haze. Qrow's eyes opened, but he knew better than to just shoot up. Then, there came a loud snarl, and a dark shape had rushed leaped through the air, hurtling towards his apparently sleeping form with claws outstretched. Its outline looked like a beowolf grimm, and it must have thought this sleeping weirdo by the fire would be easy prey.

Bad luck for it.

He gripped the handle tight, and Harbinger roared to life in a whirr of gears.

A minute later the thing's left and right sides fell in opposite directions as Qrow completed the swing of his blade… and then something warm splashed over Qrow's face. It smelled coppery. Really, it almost felt like… Blood.

But, grimm didn't… bleed…

Before he could react to that, more growls and snarls had echoed through the night, accompanied by more snapping of twigs.

He wiped his face clean, hefted Harbinger, and readied himself for the oncoming onslaught, as the snarls turned into roars.

He saw brief flashes in the firelight, as he swung Harbinger about and blocked and pushed and dodged. They looked like beowolves, though perhaps a bit smaller. However, they were not black or white but colored like normal wolves, and they had no bone spurs or spikes sticking out. Their fangs and claws were the same, though. That was the important bit.

There was then no time to really think; only fight and react. He didn't dare use the shotgun aspect of Harbinger. He only had two shells left. But that wasn't a great concern. Claws scratched against Harbinger, he pushed and dodged, and he just kept cutting. He even kicked some in the head a few times.

He wasn't sure how long he had fought for, or how many. He lost himself in a sea of cutting, slashing, and trying not to get scratched… or have his head torn off. By the end of it, he was covered in blood nearly from head to toe, and the camp was strewn about with body parts and heads and things.

He took a deep breath and wiped some of the blood from his face as best he could. Then, he took a moment to survey the carnage around him.

In the distance, the sun began to rise, and with the light came something, one of many things that would be seared into Qrow's mind until the day he died.

He had watched in horrid fascination as the bodies began to… change. Where once there had been beowolves in color, there now lay… humans.

These things had been humans.

He looked all around the campsite with wide eyes, taking in everything he saw with disbelief. He wanted to reach for his flask to drain the remnants of its contents… but after two days, he remembered that there was none left. Following that realization… he just calmly packed up his things (some of which were covered in blood), doused the fire, and then flew away.

Qrow didn't really feel like stopping. Right now, he just wanted to focus on flying… and not think about what had happened. He had killed people before, of course… but that had just felt… wrong.

What was this place?

Pushing the thoughts out of his head as best he could, he continued on through the air. Idly, he took note that there was a good deal of abandoned towns… wherever it was that he was flying over. That, and a lot of upturned ground as well.

It was… unsettling, and it reminded him of the countryside after a wave of grimm had swept through.

He only stopped once to eat but didn't tarry.

After the sun had sunk below the skyline and the late evening had given way to the night, he started trying to find a safe-looking place to sleep. Then, Qrow's avian eyes spotted a great movement within the town that he was flying over. At first glance it had seemed as abandoned as all the others he had passed, but… yes, that was torchlight. There was a small group of people near the center buildings and behind some sort of makeshift barricade. They looked human, and they were fighting what looked like a horde of shambling… things. Even from his height, the stench of decay hit him full in his beak.

It looked like the humans were being slowly overrun by the horde.

Well, he couldn't just leave them, now, could he? He flapped to the area behind the humans, turned, and then pulled his wings in close and dived down towards the town, descending like a corvid comet. At the last moment, he fanned out his wings, and glided past the torchbearers, and straight towards the horde of… were those zombies? And what were those things that looked like stitched-together corpses!?

No, not important at the moment.

He shifted back into human form, and Harbinger flashed in the moonlight. Several walking corpses were sent flying in pieces. As he pushed and kicked and cut forward, he could make out a floating figure, near the back of the large mass of zombies and what looked like corpses stitched together. The floating part reminded him of those two… things from the town, and this one looked as if it was directing the zombies, shouting and bellowing out all sorts of things. "Kill the Avacynian scum, my children, my creations! Add their bodies to your ranks! Kill them all!"

Not if Qrow had anything to say about, asshole.

He gripped Harbinger's handle, even as his trusty weapon became covered in brackish blood and rot and decaying flesh. A part of him wanted to kill every last rotting thing in this horde. Especially when he saw that some of the shambling corpses had been children, a few of whom looked relatively fresh.

Yeah, he was going to kill that fucker.

Xxxxxxxxx

Thalia

They had been fighting almost nonstop for more than three days, and Thalia was not sure they would last much longer. Her armor and sword were all slick and sticky with dried blood.

In the years since Avacyn's disappearance, the dead and the damned had grown bolder, more open in their cruelty and evil, especially here, in Gavony. Whole towns were being overrun by the dead, and refugees flocked to Thraben's walls nearly daily.

She should have known it would be a trap, and, indeed, had suspected as much. But it had been a cry for help, and the messenger had all but pleaded for someone to help them. How could Thalia have refused such a request? Was not their goal to stand tall against the darkness that ever threatened to overwhelm and devour them? Was that not the Church's divine mandate, handed down by the vanished archangel herself?

How could anyone refuse a plea for help and live with themselves afterward?

They had ventured out from Thraben, and had found the town where they supposed were under siege. Three had been several refugees gathered within the town. But they had been the bait. The shambling horde had quickly risen from the ground, soon joined by the skaabs, and they had promptly swarmed the town Thalia's soldiers. Many lives had been lost within the first several minutes before being beaten back.

They had managed to hastily erect several barricades of wards and wooden doors and barriers around the town's few entrance points during the day, and took rotating shifts beating back each advance, but Thalia knew they would not last. Each wave cost more and more lives to fend off, and they had been slowly pushed back towards the town's center. She had ventured out with a force of about 75 cathars and priests and knights and spearsages, and now there were but less than 30 left, and 3 dozen refuges depending on them for safety. They were all tired, and their supplies starting to run dangerously low.

This was their last stand, as their attempts to signal any angels had yielded no results as of yet. This would perhaps be where they died. She could only hope that they would be given the Blessed sleep, as unlikely as that was to be at the present.

As the horde approached, she and her fellows readied themselves for the assault.

Then, a crow, suddenly flapped past her, hurtling towards the zombie and skaab horde like an arrow shot from a bow.

She blinked in confusion, and suddenly, it was not a crow at all, but a man, wielding a large and strange sword, and who wore a dark fur mantle across his shoulders. She and the others watched in shock and surprise as he collided with the shambling horde with the force of an avalanche… and started beating it back near singlehandedly. She watched as he sent whole clusters of the unquiet dead and stitched abominations flying away in pieces. She watched with awe as his blade shifted into a scythe, and he kept cutting and slashing.

Never had she seen such power and strength from a human. The only things that she had ever seen exhibit such power and strength were from the angels themselves… and she didn't see any feathered wings sprouting from his back. In a word, he was… magnificent. A sight to behold.

She then blinked away her surprise and raised her blade. What was she doing, gawking like a fool in her first battle? Despite whoever powers or prowess, he seemed to possess; he was still fighting alone. How could she let him fight and die alone, and not rush to his aid? He had just kept them from being overrun, given them a brief respite. It had only been a few seconds, but it was already past time that she and the others returned the favor.

She brandished her sword and turned to her soldiers. "Forward, by Avacyn's grace!" she called out. "For the dawn!"

With a guttural roar of defiance, she and the remainder of her cathars and knights hefted their weapons, vaulted over the barricade, and charged behind the strange figure, hacking and cutting and blasting their way through, while the remaining sages kept them covered with spells.

Xxxxxxxxx

Qrow

He kept cutting and slashing. Distantly, he heard the rest of the living people behind him yelling and join the fray, but he couldn't focus on that right now. A part of him just knew that if he took out the floating asshole, the rest of the horde would lose cohesion.

He bettered aside a freaky patchwork thing with too many arms, cut apart a zombie bear, parried aside the weird sword arm of a thing with half its flesh just gone, and smashed about a dozen human zombies with a few swings of Harbinger, before then shifting into a crow and swerving and swooping out of the way up to the sky.

He kept rising for a moment, and then dived, and shifted back into human form, Harbinger raised and ready to descend and cut.

The floating asshole then, perchance, thought to look up, and spied Qrow. His pale face twisted in disdain, and the floating man raised a hand and shot off… some sort of sickly-colored dark beam from the palm of his hand. It looked like bad news. But, Qrow was no stranger to dodging and parrying attacks in freefall and quickly presented Harbinger's flat to intercept the attack. The hit pushed him back more than he was expecting, but he kept his trusty weapon before him, channeling aura to reinforce it. With a bit of effort, he managed to shove the beam off to the side, causing it to suddenly fizzle out, and then gained speed again as he resumed his rapid descent. A moment later, he was almost right on top of his quarry. Before the floating asshole, whose eyes were now wide with shock, could even raise a hand to defend himself, Qrow let loose a cry of exertion, and Harbinger's aura-sharpened blade cut through wrist, skull, neck, chest, and groin in a single slash.

As the two halves fell in opposite directions in a small shower of gore and blood, Qrow shifted back into his avian form to arrest the momentum of his descent. He flapped for a bit and then glided downwards to roll lightly to his feet.

He readied himself to keep fending off more rotting corpses and stitched monsters… but it appeared as if there would be no need. As if a switch had been pulled with the floating asshole's death, the remnants of the horde all either collapsed into motionless piles of decaying flesh and bones or scampered out of the town and into the night.

With a few deep breaths, he collapsed Harbinger and hooked it onto his harness, before wiping at his face. The hand came away bloody, and he knew that none of it was his. Still, he was feeling drained, and tired, and he really needed a freaking drink-

"That was impressive," came a pleasant voice, and it made him turn around to view its source.

For a brief moment, he thought it was the Ice Queen, that she had somehow ended up here as well. But no, it wasn't. This woman's hair wasn't white, but platinum blonde, and it hung loose to and past her shoulders like a proud mane. She wore functional-looking armor that seemed a seamless mix of plates, leathers, buckles, and scale, though it was all currently drenched in blood at the moment. He could make out that the front of her breastplate and tabard bore the same holy symbol as that of the church and the new pendant that hung about his neck.

As she walked towards him, her boots clicking against the dirt ground, she sheathed the straight, basket-hilted rapier that she had been wielding, and held out a hand in welcome. He could see that her eyes were an interesting mixture of blue and silver and that she had a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Unlike the Ice Queen, she seemed a bit less… severe. Not uptight, because that was something you never called a woman.

She was actually smiling at him, her silver-blue eyes full of gratitude, and he found himself a bit lost for words, his tongue somehow twisting itself… and she had only said three words to him so far. He felt an odd stirring in his chest.

Dammit, Qrow, get it together.

"You saved us," she said. "Not only myself and my men, but the refugees as well. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I am Thalia of Thraben. May I ask as to your name?"

He blinked, mentally slapped himself on his cheeks for acting like an idiot, and presented his own hand with what he hoped was a friendly grin. "Nice to meet you, Thalia. Name's Qrow. Qrow Branwen"

They shook hands, and her grin grew wider. She had a nice smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Qrow."

In the east, the sun began to rise, and its light was shining on a new day.

Xxxxxxxxx

Jaune

The Wilds of Eldraine

He was not entirely sure why, but to Jaune, it felt like there was something very odd about this forest. About this place. He just wasn't sure what it was.

He had been walking for what felt like a few days if the passage of time was anything to go by… and he had no real idea where he was going. More of a vague idea that he had to keep walking, rather than anything concrete. Besides, it was not as if he was going at a quick pace. The pain was still there, all over. It was bearable to some extent, but still present. It made him wonder if it would ever go away.

Still, Jaune just kept walking forward, and as he walked, he found himself falling into something of a rather simple routine. When it got dark, he made a fire, trained, ate whatever he could catch… 'a proper knight always knows how to set a snare and survive,' his instructor said… If he caught nothing, then he simply ate from some of the rations in the saddlebag. Then, he would unfurl the sleeping bag, and go to sleep.

He would sleep and then when light streamed through the trees and thorns, or, at least, when he no longer felt tired, he would rise up, and then eat a few bites of his rations or catch from the previous night. Afterward, he continued to where ever it was that he was going, all the while cutting and training… and fighting off whatever creatures he happened to come across. And whatever he couldn't fight, he avoided and evaded.

Of course, when Jaune slept, it was not a peaceful sleep, by any means. So many images kept flashing through his head, and he was still not sure if they were memories, dreams… or nightmares.

…Squelch…

… He was on a large farm, and there were others there too, all of whom were cruel and bigger than he was. He hated it here. He hated it, and he wished that someone would just take him away from it all. He also wondered why he had been abandoned here…

… He watched the knights in their great armor ride on by, and they looked so majestic, so tall and proud upon their mighty steed. He wished to be like them, to have his name renown throughout all the land…

… He sat with everyone by the fire, and listened to the tales of the heroes of old, standing proud and defiant against the darkness. He wanted to be one, he wanted to be a hero…

…He looked at the sword as it gleamed in his hands…

But mostly, awake or asleep… he dreamed of her.

… a girl, with hair like blood gleaming in the firelight, and she stood tall and proud, if not also a bit humble as well. He watched as she battled against four brutes girded in armor and ill intentions, and they could not lay a single blow upon her. He watched, and it seemed less a battle, and more like a dance. She was dancing, and he was nothing short of entranced…

Pyrrha… she was the one constant, aside from the fire. Why had he never seen how much sadness had been lurking behind her eyes before?

He would ponder this, as he kept walking onwards, past and through strange, ever-shifting vistas. Sometimes, Jaune crossed over bridges or strode through streams after refilling his waterskin. Other times, he waded through marshes where his only light was that of a torch or the strange little glimmers in the distance.

Ever forward, ever forward.

He fought little creatures with red hats, the same that Benedict had killed before the battle with the giant. These were redcaps, as they were apparently known, and he wasn't sure how he knew that. He also fought giant lizards, and monsters with two or more heads. His blades were stained with blood more often than not, even as he washed them every day.

Ever forward, ever onward.

… "A knight must, above all else, persevere and persist. With perseverance, you can gain strength, which can bolster your courage, propel you forward towards knowledge unsought, and will ever instill loyalty in those who stride by your side…"

Sometimes, he walked through the rain, keeping his cloak over his head. But, other times, it was too thick for Jaune to press onward. This then necessitated that he rested, whether within a thick cope of trees, under an abandoned bridge, or even beneath an overpass, such as he was doing now.

The overpass was nice and large, enough to keep him safe and dry from the rain until it passed. Outside the overpass, the rain fell with a steady shhhhhhh, as if it were telling the world to be quiet while it descended. It was soothing, in a way.

Still, it was too early to sleep, and he wasn't feeling particularly hungry at the moment. So, he decided to train. He drew his weapons; Benedict's sword in his right, and the shattered blade in his left. At times, it took something of a conscious effort to hold it with his left hand. But Jaune felt that he was managing well enough.

He started going through what he seemed to know; block with the offhand blade, cut with the primary blade. Stab, stab, cut, parry, pirouette. Cross-block, parry with primary, and stab with secondary. Backward three steps, adjust grip and cut with both. Cut, cut, leap forward, duck and… raise left arm?

With a slight groan of frustration, Jaune shook his head as he gazed at the limb.

He kept raising up his entire left arm in a defensive manner, almost as if on instinct; slightly curled, and with his forearm and wrist straight… like how one would use a shield. Had… had he been trained to use one, in the past? None of what he saw in his mind seemed to indicate that…

What? What was he thinking? Of course, he had been taught that style. Same as Pyrrha. In fact, it had been taught to him by Pyrrha. But, that was back when he had a shield. Now, he didn't.

Yet, how did he have the muscle memory to use two blades at all? He could remember Rhodes' lessons perfectly well-

...

...

who was Rhodes?

Regardless, he would just have to... retrain (?) to use two blades, it would seem. Or find a shield, which did not seem likely at the moment. So, he continued on.

… "You need to think of the blades as both an extension of your arms, and as two separate things," the scarred man said, as he shifted his position slightly...

… "The hilt must be held loose enough to allow for a quick repositioning and adjustment of the grip," the training yard instructor said. "Too rigid, and your bones and muscles will bruise and break when you parry your opponent's blows…"

"Keep your grip tight," the girl with red hair said. "Front foot forward…"

Stab, stab, cut, parry, pirouette. Cross-block, parry with the primary blade and stab with the secondary. Backward three steps, adjust grip and cut with both. Cut, cut, leap forward, duck, and… stab with the secondary, whilst parrying with the primary. He kept his grip tight but not rigid, and his front foot forward.

SQUELCH!

Benedict smiled, even as he dissipated…

Jaune's hands shook, and it was not from the ambient cold of the rain.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh, went the rain as if to quiet his thoughts and keep him focused.

Stab, stab, cut, parry, pirouette, reverse block.

Stab, stab, stab.

By the time he felt practiced enough, his… Benedict's shirt was soaked with sweat. With a sigh, Jaune sat and laid his back against the stone of the overpass, and listened to the rain as he chewed on a piece of hardtack. He decided then that he liked the sound of the rain. It was calming, and gentle.

Idly, he held up the ring that Benedict had wanted to return to his lady. It was obvious that the knight had loved, from how he had spoken of her before he had… died.

Jaune could distantly feel his left hand clench. He had killed him. Why? And Why did Benedict just… let it happen? Because the knight thought that he would die too? Why was Jaune, a loser lost on some strange world, alive, and Syr Benedict, with all his hopes and dreams… why was he dead?

"…remember me. Be… be the great knight that I couldn't. Just don't… let me be forgotten by them… by my lady..."

Jaune stared at the ring for a long time, with its simple gold band and inset stone of onyx, and then he slipped it back under the shirt. He looked at his left hand, with its scars and lack of feeling. He flexed its fingers, rolled his wrist, and listened to the rain. All the while, he thought of the girl with red hair. He sat there almost motionless. Then, he added a few more dry sticks to the fire, laid out his bedding, and then finally drifted off to sleep by the sound of the pouring rain…

Shhhhhhhhhhh…

…Squelch…

…A pair of burning eyes, narrowed in amusement, and he was screaming in agony as heat burrowed into his chest, and the smell of burning flesh filled the room…

…Then, there was fire. The sounds of screams and death and pain were all around. Meanwhile, he knew nothing but pain. It hurt to breathe, and he could taste blood in his mouth.

He looked up, and he saw her; Pyrrha, the girl who was as strong as a mountain. She said something to him, but he could not make out what it was. Right now, he wanted to run. It all hurt so much…

… "That's all you'll ever do…"

… the wizard was gone. Dead or destroyed, he didn't know, and the walls were collapsing…

… he felt so hungry, and all they did was laugh and mock…

… "Don't try and be something you're not, Jaune..."

… he would not run, not now, and not ever…

…In the distance, there came fire, heading straight towards her, and she did not see it. He moved on instinct, even as his body was screaming in pain. He moved, and with all his strength, he pushed her away, away from the fire.

The last thing he saw was her; as he shoved her away, and as she reached out to him, sorrow and horror on her face and then there was fire and…

With a gasp, he woke up, his right hand outstretched, and sweat running down his face. Beyond the overpass, it seemed the rain had stopped, and his fire had guttered out into flickering embers. He then took a moment to collect his thoughts and his breath.

If she was alive… Did… did Pyrrha hate him, for what he had done? Had he just caused her more sorrow?

He took another deep breath and wiped his left hand across his sweaty face with a slight groan.

Well, he wasn't asleep anymore, that was for certain… and he did not feel much like trying to discern what was a memory and what wasn't at the current moment. Where were they coming from?

So, he rose up, stretched, and had a brief meal of some hardtack. It was tasteless, but… somewhat filling. He then packed up his bags and left after stamping out the remnants of his campfire. It was still night, though, and the sun had not yet risen. But Jaune felt no desire to stay under the overpass. As he started to light a torch, however, he saw that the forest was alight with small little shining lights, all the while the moon and stars shone through the trees.

The first time he had seen the unbroken moon, he might have… freaked out, a bit. But, could you blame him? The moon wasn't broken! That alone proved that he was not in Vale anymore. Or… Remnant, for that matter. Come to think of it, he had adjusted to that fact a bit quickly-

His musings were suddenly broken when, in the distance, he heard the sound of a loud and clear horn.

Haroooom! Harooom! Haroom, haroom, harooooooom!

It was soon accompanied by the sounds of braying hounds and thunderous hoofbeats.

Feeling curious, he pressed onwards, and soon found himself on an outcropping that overlooked a slight canyon. As soon as he approached it, he heard more hoofbeats, and what sounded like a whinny.

Below the outcropping, there soon came into view… a beautiful creature, even if it did look like a horse with a giant horn in the middle of its forehead. Its horn gleamed gold, and it had a white coat with blue and green design-like markings that flowed all about its flanks and torso. Its forelocks were a bright red, while its eyes seemed to shine like silver, and its mane and tail all but shimmered like onyx in the moonlight.

A… a unicorn, like from the old myths. And he was looking at one, right now!

It was also bleeding from a large, gashing wound on its side, and it was slightly limping. It looked like it had been running a good long while, and seemed unable, or unwilling, to run any further, even as it continued to try and keep limping away. Then, it collapsed to its side with a whinny of pain.

Jaune wanted to climb down immediately, and help the poor creature, but then he heard the sound of footsteps and the growing glow of torchlight. Quickly, the Arc dropped low, pressing himself against the grassy ground of the outcropping.

Hidden as he was, he looked down and watched as the source of the footsteps came into view. There were five of them. Four each different shade of hair, while the fifth had no hair at all, showing his ears to be pointed. All of them were armored in functional-looking leathers and chain and hide, and armed with axes and swords, though the bald one also had a mace.

These… these were elves, denizens of the Wilds. Though… he was not truly sure how he knew what those were.

The five elves surrounded the unicorn, like hungry wolves around a sheep. One held a long pole upon which a lantern was hooked. He stabbed the pole into the ground, filling the area with lanternlight.

"You rarely see a unicorn outside the human Realm anymore," the one with brown hair said.

"Perhaps this is a good sign, then," said the white-haired one. "A most portentous Wild Hunt for the year; the blood and flesh of a unicorn to welcome in the warmth and the sun, and renewal of all."

"Aye," agreed Red-hair. "And just imagine how succulent and sweet its flesh shall taste at Winter's end. The taste alone would herald the new dawn with trumpets! And look at yon horn, my fellows. A person would almost think that it 'twas wrought from pure and precious gold. In addition, look at the patterns upon its coat, as well as its eyes and mane. Every bit of this beast will be such a treasure; a prize most fine."

"Enough flapping of your gums, Quick," said the one with black hair, who was also wearing a wolf-pelt over her leather armor. "It will be dawn soon. The Hunt has to be finished, so that the new year can blossom and bloom with warmth. Besides, our steeds are getting most anxious. And, there no point in prolonging its pain."

"Aye, and I am most keenly aware of that fact, thank you," replied Red-Hair, or Quick as he seemed to be called. "But can thou truly fault a body for taking a moment to admire this prey, Jelda? Just to savor it?"

"Praps, but best that we not waste more time savoring," said Brown-Hair, who was at the back of the group. "The earth needs its blood for renewal. We can savor it afterward. So, let us commence with the deed. I'll do it."

As he spoke, the elf drew a long hunting knife from his belt and started to walk forward. The unicorn saw its doom approaching and tiredly tried to stand up and defend itself. Almost nonchalantly, Quick shoved it back down with a booted foot and a hearty laugh. His boot collided with its wound, and the unicorn cried out in pain.

Jaune's eyes widened. They were going to kill it. They were going to kill this beautiful creature.

A part of him said not to get involved. Another part of him told the first part to go bugger itself. It was not right, what he was seeing, and he would be damned if he just stood by. He wanted to be a hero, right? Well, a hero did not just stand by and watch a defenseless creature get butchered for sport!

… "Your enemies won't wait for you to make the first move. Be quick, and take it before they can react," Rhodes said…

Without another moment's hesitation, Jaune drew a knife from his belt and leaped down from the outcropping. A moment later, he collided with the brown-haired one, and his weapon all but buried itself between the elf's spine and neck. He then rolled to his feet off of the new corpse as quick as he could, just as the others regained their wits and attacked.

He ducked under White-hair's ax, and then drew his broken blade and swiftly parried and pushed away Quick's sword, sending the elf stumbling back in surprise amidst a small rustle and clatter of leather and chain. Jaune then dashed forward and came to a stop so as to stand protectively in front of the unicorn.

The remaining four regrouped, and they regarded him curiously as he brandished his broken blade whilst drawing Benedict's sword. Then, Quick, once he had regained his footing and wits, was the first to speak. "And just what are you doing out here, little human? You seem most lost, and quite ragged-looking."

"What the hells are you doing, talking to it!?" White-Hair exclaimed. "It just killed Orrin! And it's interrupted the Hunt! Let's just get on with this, and kill it! The Hunt has to be finished!"

White-Hair then took a step forward, hefting his ax as he did so. Jaune, in turn, said nothing and charged forward.

Benedict's blade collided against the curved edge of the ax with a small shower of sparks. CLANG!

As the weapons parted, Jaune parried Quick's descending sword and stepped to the side, and pirouetted to block a second blow from White-Hair. Jaune then pushed away from the ax and feinted left, only to then sweep underneath, and wrench the ax out of White-Hair's hands. The was followed up with a quick collision between the pommel of Crocea Mors' broken blade and the side of White-Hair's face, near his eye.

As the elf stumbled and staggered, Jaune lept forward and kicked him hard, and then he dodged a slash from Quick, and pushed forward against the elf in retaliation. Clang, clang, clang!

Their weapons kissed and parted half a dozen times in the span of a few seconds. The red-haired elf was quite fast with his blade and seemed none-to-disoriented by Jaune's use of two blades. Still, despite the seeming advantage, Jaune knew he had to stay on the offensive. He faked a cut to Quick's midsection, only then to lock the elf's sword with Benedict's, and then Jaune swiftly clapped him across the face with the flat of his broken blade, leaving a good gash against his cheek. Jaune gave a twist of his wrist and promptly disarmed Quick of his sword, which tumbled away and fell to the ground with a clang. As the elf took a step back, Jaune raised his swords and-

Pain erupted like a flash of light in the back of his head. Someone had hit him, and hard. He stumbled, and then dazedly turned and saw No-Hair, a flanged mace taken from his belt raised for another blow. Jaune slashed out at him, only for the elf to dodge his sluggish blows, and then slam him again, this time hard across the jaw and side of his face with his mace. The blow sent Jaune staggering, and his mouth was filled with coppery blood.

A small part of him felt grateful that Pyrrha had unlocked his aura, that day in the Emerald forest – Rhodes said the words, and the basement was filled with the glow of his unlocked aura- but there was no time to think on that right now.

He cut and slashed, unleashing a flurry of blows upon No-Hair, all of which the elf parried and blocked expertly with his own blade. Then, he dodged Jaune's overhead cut, and bashed him across the chest with his mace, driving the air from his lungs, and sending him staggering backward woozily. He barely remained upright. He could barely lift up his weapons. He was surprised that he was even still holding them, at this point. The area was starting to spin and blur somewhat.

Was… was he going to die?

… "This is the part, where you lose," Cardin said, as he smirked and hefted his mace…

Jaune growled. No, he was not going to fall here. He couldn't. But it was getting hard to focus, and blood was dripping from his mouth. No-Hair must have noticed his distress, for he was approaching him without any haste.

No, no, no, no, no, no! He would not die here! He had to find her, find Pyrrha! He had to be remembered, he had to be free, he had to know who he was, he had to become a real hero!

He had to fulfill those dreams and-

His left arm glowed, and then… from that glow sprang Syr Benedict, only he was translucently grey, and he was glowing with a translucently ethereal radiance.

No-Hair's eyes widened in surprise, and he raised his blade to meet the specter's own ghostly weapon as it surged forth. A loud, crystalline CLING rang out, and then the blades parted, and Benedict's echo feinted and cut. His ghostly blade sheared the mace in two and opened a thin line on No-Hair's cheek, forcing the bald elf to hold his own sword with two hands.

None of the other elves attacked, so entranced they were by the strange sight. Jaune realized that he would not have another chance. He gripped his blades tightly as air returned to his lungs, and strength returned to his limbs, and as the world stopped spinning.

He then sped forward. The other elves chased after him, but they were too slow.

Syr Benedict's echo slashed at No-hair one more time, then pushed the elf's blade up and out of his hands… and then dashed to the left to intercept White-Hair, allowing Jaune to charge through and impale No-Hair through the chest and out his back with both his swords. The elf gasped and gurgled, and then fell, the motion wrenching the two blades out of Jaune's hands.

… Rhodes looked surprised, as the blades burrowed through his chest, and his maces dropped to the floor with dull clangs….

Before he could regain his bearings, Quick collided with him, dagger drawn, and he was pushed back towards the ravine wall. As he was slammed into the rock, Syr Benedict's echo dissipated into grey mist, which flew back into Jaune's left hand.

As his back was slammed against the stone, Jaune saw Quick's dagger arc down towards his head, and he quickly brought his hands up to arrest its fall.

It took all that Jaune had to keep the dagger from descending. And it was not enough. Quick was a good deal strong than his lithe frame suggested, and his other arm was pressed against Jaune's chest, keeping him pinned.

"A bold effort, human," Quick said with a bloodthirsty grin, as he inched the dagger closer. "Very courageous… but futile. You have but hastened your own demise. The Hunt will have its due… and maybe a bit of human will be added to the mix as well. It has been a good long while since we've had a human prey. This will be most excellent indeed."

"Quit stalling already, and kill it," White-Hair bellowed, as rubbed at his swollen eye for a moment. "This is idiotic. The sun has to rise renewed and reborn, and Orrin and Losh are dead. Here, just hold him. We can't afford the chance of him doing anything else."

He then hefted up his ax and made his way towards Jaune and Quick. "Just keep him still so I can cut off his head. We've already wasted enough ti-"

Whatever he was about to say next was then swiftly replaced with a blood-curdling bellow.

The unicorn, ignored by everyone throughout the battle, had managed to get to its hooves and had then promptly charged and gored White-hair with its horn. The elf's screams filled the small ravine. The equine beast flexed its neck, and the spitted elf slid off the horn and collapsed against the opposite wall of the small ravine with a wet splat.

That only left two; the black-haired one named Jelda, and Quick, the latter of whom was still trying to stab Jaune with his dagger.

Without thinking, and taking advantage of Quick's momentary distraction by his friend's distress, Jaune let go of the elf's wrist and allowed his open left hand to intercept the dagger's descent, raising it to meet the blade and… SCHLICK! The dagger sank through his palm and out the back of his hand until the hilt collided against the flesh of his palm with a smack. Jaune was… really not sure if it was a mercy that he felt none of it.

With the elf's brief surprise giving him a window of opportunity, he gripped Quick's dagger-hand, pulled himself forward with the resultant leverage, and then headbutted Quick in the face, and he felt the elf's nose crumple and break with a resounding crunch. As Quick recoiled and yelled in pain Jaune kicked him back, yanked out the dagger from his palm with a meaty squelch, and then leaped forward and tackled the elf to the ground.

As they tumbled and scrapped and grappled on the dirt ground, Jaune quickly realized that it may have been a terrible idea, as the elf was still a good bit taller and stronger than he was. Soon enough, Quick was astride him, and Jaune's back was pressed into the dirt ground. Then, Quick's right hand quickly encircled around Jaune's throat and started to squeeze tightly, while the elf's left gripped his right hand tightly to keep the dagger at bay. Of course, this left Jaune's left hand still free, bloody hole and all, and it was still descending towards him.

Before he truly realized what he was doing, Jaune reached up and slapped his hand against Quick's face, and some of his blood smeared on the white-haired elf's grimacing face. Then, just as Jaune realized what he had just done, the elf started to scream.

A part of him wanted to let go-

… "Take any advantage that you can get," the training instructor said to him and the others. "Knightly virtue is well and fine, but you must be alive for it to mean anything… even if that means fighting dirty…"

He did not release immediately.

Quick was screaming in agony as Jaune held tightly to his face, and small motes of light were pulling themselves out of the elf's flesh and embedding themselves into Jaune's skin, sending fresh sparks of pain up Jaune's side. In his pain, the elf let go of Jaune's right arm, and he kept screaming. Before it could go any further though … Jaune let go, and then stabbed the pointy end of his pilfered dagger straight through Quick's throat with a wet and meaty SCHLUNK!

The elf stiffened, vomited out a mouthful of blood onto Jaune's face, and fell to his left, sliding off the dagger still held tight in Jaune's hand. Quick gasped and gurgled for a moment… and then fell silent. Gulping down lungful after lungful of air, Jaune rolled himself over and up to a slight kneeling position, and felt a brief sensation in his left hand, and then nothing again.

A moment later, the sword slashing down his back snapped him out of his slight stupor and refocused his mind to the fact that there was still one enemy left. He yelled in agony and anger and slashed out blindly with Quick's dagger behind him. Meanwhile, White-Hair was still screaming hoarsely in pain, and soon the screams were reduced to pained sobs. The unicorn neighed and snorted.

Ignoring them, Jaune staggered to his feet, while his back felt like it was aflame. Idly, he realized that his aura must have shattered. As he stood, he spat out some blood and saliva. Almost languidly, he turned his gaze upon the one who had just slashed him. It was Jelda, the one with the black hair and the wolf pelt. She watched him warily and held before her a bloody sword protectively.

For a moment, neither moved. Instead, they simply looked at one another. Then, Jelda raised her weapon and charged forward with a cry on her lips. He parried the cut with the dagger, ducked around another one, and then tackled and pushed her back, all but knocking her off her feet. Idly, he noted that she had just dropped her sword from being tackled. Then, she started beating on him with her fists. Each blow hurt. She was quite strong. But then, most elves were stronger than they appeared.

Yelling, Jaune kept pushing her back across the ground. Then, he lifted her up with a burst of strength and rammed her bodily against the ravine wall. Once (thud), twice (thud), and three times (thud). As she cried out in pain, he then all but threw and wrestled her to the ground. Like a pair of wolverines, they bit and clawed and grappled and punched at one another, their motions kicking up a cloud of dust and dirt. Unlike with Quick, this time Jaune managed to gain the positional advantage. In addition, a good deal of her energy was tied up in keeping his dagger away from her.

His forearm against her neck, he slammed the pommel of the knife against her face, once, twice, and three times. Thwack, thwack, thwack. Seeing that she was sufficiently dazed, Jaune reversed his grip on his weapon, and then raised the dagger up high, ready to plunge down into the space between her eyes. Her eyes… which were full of fear and terror, even as she weakly struggled against his weight, and as one of her eyes and cheeks were swelling up from where he had hit her with the pommel.

He had to kill her. She had tried to kill him and had been going to kill the unicorn. She could have just run, but instead, she had hurt him, tried to kill him. This was just the way it was, and… and…

Squelch.

Why did she look so scared then?

Jaune blinked as the battle fury began to recede from his veins and then, he realized that… she seemed rather young. Arm still on her throat, he looked around at the small carnage around them.

What… was he doing?

… "But hurting them isn't going to make your life any better…"

… "Above all else, a knight must know when to stop fighting…"

… "I wanted to be a hero…"

Shaking his head, he tried to raise his dagger again. Seeing this, Jelda glared at him, and then closed her eyes, as if anticipating the coming blow. Jaune's hand started to shake, as the smell of blood suddenly began to fill his nostrils. No matter what, he just could plunge the dagger down. But he had to. He…

After taking a deep, shaking breath, he let loose a scream of frustration and confusion and sorrow and lunged the dagger down… into the space next to Jelda's head. The sounds shocked Jelda into her opening her eyes.

He couldn't do this. Not like this. His friends… would not have approved of this. Pyrrha certainly would not have.

With a shuddering breath and a hoarse throat, Jaune lifted his forearm up and away from the black-haired elf's throat. Then, he stood up, and slowly staggered back and away. She watched him retreat from her as she sat up and coughed and rubbed at her bruised throat. She looked over to where he had stabbed the dagger into the earth, and then back at him. She watched him with eyes that seemed to bear a palpable mixture of fear, anger, and… something else. Confusion maybe?

Panting, Jaune kept eye contact with the elf, held his hand out to the side, and let the dagger fall out of his hand to clatter on the ground as Jelda slowly stood up. For a moment, she kept looking at him, and he watched as her own hand drifted down to the dagger still sheathed at her waist. She looked at him, and then at the unicorn that was slowly walking to stand at Jaune's side. Its horn was still dripping with White-Hair's blood.

She took a breath, and her hand pulled away from the dagger's hilt. Instead, she walked past Jaune and the unicorn, and over to where White-Hair lay, propped up against the ravine wall. Without another word, she placed a hand on his wound and closed her eyes. Slowly, a glowing green light began to emanate from her hand. White-Hair grunted in pain, and then he seemed to subside.

When the glow faded and Jelda pulled her hand away, the wound was now a mass of scar tissue. She then slipped her arm under White-Hair's shoulder, and slowly lifted up her insensate companion. She exchanged a final look with Jaune, and then turned and walked/ dragged her companion away.

Once the pair had disappeared around the bend of the ravine, Jaune turned his attention to the remnants of the carnage… The carnage that he had started. Brown-hair's body remained where it lay, as did No-Hair's with Jaune's blades still protruding from his chest. Then, there was Quick. Somehow, the elf was still alive, though he was unmoving save for some twitching, and his bloody mouth was silently gaping open and closed in pain.

Jaune limped over to the dying elf, all the while feeling the unicorn's eyes on his back. He stopped before Quick, his shadow lying across the dying figure's prone form.

He then sat down, really collapsed, next to the elf. The red-haired elf grimaced and coughed up more blood as his wide eyes watched Jaune. He looked scared, and hurt, and angry and sad. Jaune couldn't really blame him for any of that, though. For a long moment, neither said anything, and there was nothing to be heard, save for that of Quick's gasping breaths, and the sounds of the forest.

In the distance, the sun had begun to rise, its light peeking through the branches of the trees.

Wordlessly, Jaune then reached out with his left hand, and gently pressed it to the open wound on Quick's neck, as if to staunch the bleeding. Quick blinked at him with what seemed to be confusion, and flinched at the contact for a moment… then, he closed those self-same eyes in something that appeared to be a weary acceptance, and he let loose a final, shuddering breath. As he did, Jaune's hand tightened for a moment around Quick's throat, and... and let his semblance go to work. The elf's body swiftly dissipated into shining little green sparks of light, and they flashed into Jaune's chest and arm.

Then, it was Jaune's turn to grit his teeth. Like with Benedict, fresh agony crawled up his flesh, making him spasm and convulse. But, unlike then, this time… it didn't hurt as much. More images and voices flashed in his mind, and he could see nothing else but them.

… "Follow me, and you will never go hungry again…"

… "become a paragon of virtue…"

… "One day, we will walk among our ancestral homes once again, and we will know pride…"

… "Persistence, bravery, knowledge, strength, and loyalty…"

As the voices and images all subsided and the pain retreated, he heard a snort. He looked up to see the unicorn, kneeling before him. It stared at him with inscrutable silver eyes, while the heavy wound on its sides continued to slowly bleed. It was luminous, even as it slightly shook with pain. Jaune never blinked as he kept looking at it. Then, he reached up, and, slightly shaking, he laid his right hand upon the unicorn's strong neck. He was not sure what he was doing, and indeed, all thought had but vanished from his mind at the moment, so transfixed as he was by its beauty, as well as the exhaustion that was creeping up upon him.

Then, when he realized what he had just done, Jaune made to jerk his hand away, fearful that he would be the one to kill and absorb this creature, just as he had killed and absorbed Benedict and the elf, Quick. He didn't want to kill anything else, not now. But then… his hand started to emanate a soft, white, almost colorless, glow, and the unicorn whickered softly. Instead of turning to dust and light… the unicorn remained solid, while it's wound… Its wound had begun to heal.

As he watched the unicorn's wound close up into a small patch of scar tissue… Jaune found that he could do little else but start to cry. He did not really know why it was that he was weeping, but he was nonetheless. A moment later, he felt the horned equestrian gently and carefully nuzzle its head against his own, its long, spiraling horn resting against his shoulder like a knighting sword. He wrapped his arm loosely around the unicorn's neck and held it as he cried. He cried, and his tears and sobs were as much from exhaustion as they were from sorrow.

They stayed like that for a long while, man and unicorn, as the sun continued to rise over the wild forest.

Xxxxxxxxx

Pyrrha

Aunt Scarlet had had her wake up early this morning, early enough that the sun had not yet risen. After gathering up her practice equipment, they had walked out to the arena, all the while the upper ring was still mostly asleep, save for the few night watchmen who were out on patrol. Aunt Scarlet made sure to hold firmly onto Pyrrha's hand the whole time. Even in the upper rings, it was never really safe.

Pyrrha had never seen the upper Rings like this before. Indeed, she had never even been up this early before either. She still felt a little sleepy, too.

When they entered the arena, it was as quiet as everywhere else. Then they had gotten to the middle of the empty arena, Aunt Scarlet turned to face her. The woman towered over Pyrrha, emphasized by her muscular figure, long mane of red hair, and the mass of scar tissue that sat in place of her right eye.

"I know you are wondering why I brought you out here. Would you like to guess why I have done this?"

Immediately, an answer came to mind. "Training?" the six-year-old asked.

"That will come later, yes, but that is not the primary reason. Right now, I want you to look around, and tell me what you see."

Pyrrha felt a bit confused but did as she was told, and looked around at the area. To Pyrrha, it seemed a very different place without the roaring crowds that packed its seats during the tournaments. Her eyes wandered to the seats where Pyrrha and dad and mom and grandpa would watch Aunt Scarlet trounce any who were dumb enough to face her.

Now it looked kind of… cold. Lifeless, like an empty shell.

"You realize how different this place seems, in comparison to how it is during the day, yes?" her aunt asked.

Pyrrha mutely nodded.

"I want you to remember this; remember that the cheers of the crowd, the thrill of glory… these are temporary, ephemeral things, as temporary as the setting in this arena… and are useless. The cheering masses will not aid you against terrorists, or bandits… or the grimm, and they won't care if you fall. They will mourn you, perhaps, but they will only mourn another huntress, one among thousands. Do you understand?"

Pyrrha mutely nodded.

Her aunt's face then softened slightly, and she rested an armored hand upon Pyrrha's shoulder. "I don't tell you these things so that you may feel overwhelmed. I tell you these things so that you understand a simple truth; when you fight, and when you kill, it must never be for glory or adulation. It must be because it is the right thing to do. At least, that is why I fight. But you are not me, no matter how much you may wish to.

"So, tell me, little Pyrrha; why do you want to fight? Why do you want to be a huntress?"

Pyrrha blinked and-

-There was father, his large hand upon her small shoulder, and a slight weariness upon his scarred face, while his purple forelock dangled next to his eye. "But why do you have to leave again?" she asked.

"I am a hunter," he said. "It is my duty. I will try not to be gone too long this time, but I can make no promises, save for this; I will always return to you."

She sniffled and wiped at her eye. "Okay. But you better keep that promise or… or I'll be really mad at you!"

He chuckled and held out his index finger. "Of course. Now, what's our motto?"

"Strong as Steel…" she began.

"And Bright as Fire," he finished, as she entwined his finger with her own, and held on tightly. "Always remember that, and nothing will be able to take you down."

He then kissed her forehead, and gently ruffled the top of her head with a smile. "Be brave, Amber, my little warrior. Be brave, be strong, and I'll be back here before you know it…"

…Wait.

Amber? That… that wasn't her name…. that wasn't...

Suddenly, she was on her knees on a dirt path, her arms restrained tightly, as a woman clothed in red and malice walked up to her with a sadistic grin and she tried to struggle and get away, but she couldn't as the women smirked and raised a hand and a dark portal spiraled to life over her palm and no, no no no no no NO NO NO NO and then everything burned-

Pyrrha's eyes shot open, and she found herself bathed in sweat.

Slowly, she rose up and rubbed a hand over her face. Huh. She had not thought about that moment in the empty coliseum in a long time. But… what had the rest been? That man was not her father. Her father had had brown hair, and no scars on his face.

And… why had he called her Amber?

"I see that you aren't in so much pain anymore."

Lysone's voice cut through her musings, and she looked up to see the elderly woman approach with a wooden plate in hand and cup in hand. Upon the plate were a few thick slices of meat, and what looked like olives and bread. "That's good. How do you feel?"

Pyrrha flexed her arms. "I feel… better. The pain's almost completely gone."

Lysone smiled. "Ilessia's brew works its wonders once again, it would seem. That's very good. Here, I suspect you might be hungry."

Pyrrha looked at the food, and her stomach grumbled audibly. "Thank you. I am."

"Then stop staring at it like it's going to bite, and eat, hero-girl. Eat."

Without further prompting, Pyrrha took the plate. Balanced on the rim was a small two-tined fork. She took it up and proceeded to eat. The meat was lamb, and it was simply seasoned, and absolutely delicious. As were the olives and the bread. There was water in the cup, and it was cool and refreshing as it slid down Pyrrha's throat.

To her slight embarrassment, her meal did not last long, and not even crumbs remained. She let out a slight burb, and she felt her cheeks heat up. "I'm sorry," she said.

Lysone simply chuckled. "You've got a strong appetite. That's always good."

She then gestured to a pile of clothes. "There. I repaired some of your strange clothes. There's also a chiton for you to wear. You should get some sun upon that face of yours. I'll be outside. Take your time."

She took back the empty plate and cup, and walked outside, closing the wooden door behind her as she went.

Pyrrha slowly stood up, and soon realized that, aside from the bandages, she wasn't really wearing much of anything else.

She slipped into her corset and skirt and tied her sash around her waist. The ground felt nice on her feet, so she forwent her boots for the moment, and she felt no need to don her gloves. Then, after a bit of consideration, Pyrrha draped the robe-like garment that Lysone had given her over everything else and cinched it closed with the belt Lysone had provided. It was comfortable, and colored green like seawater. Once dressed, she stretched her arms once more and then headed outside.

There was still some evidence of the beast's rampage; scorch marks and furrows in the ground from its claws. But, aside from that, everything seemed… ordinary. There was perhaps a bit of a sad air hanging about, but life in the village seemed to just… continue on. There were even children, playing in the street, and they were laughing and giggling, as children always seemed able to do. Ilessia was even playing with them, waving her arms about wildly, much to the delight of the little ones.

Pyrrha watched silently as the children played. Lysone watched as well. "There's something fundamentally pleasant about children playing. It would be a sight that pleases even the gods," the blacksmith said.

"I suppose so," Pyrrha said. "Even in the midst of tragedy, they can still find wonder in the world."

"Aye, that they can."

For a while, the only true sound was that of the children's laughter, floating on the wind.

Lysone then turned to Pyrrha. "You asked me, earlier, if I was alright with the fact that 'destiny' got several of my friends in the village torn apart by that chimera? Remember?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to-"

"Don't apologize so much. It is bothersome. And, in your defense, it was a fair question, asked without malice. So now, here is my answer, hero-girl; Of course not. What sane person would ever be 'alright' with such a thing, with death as their destiny, as their fate? But there is a difference between acceptance, and being 'alright' with something. Destiny is what it is, what it always has been, and what it always will be… and I grieve for that, just as I grieve for my friends who now lie dead and buried in the fields. But there's no point in hating something beyond your control, hero-girl."

"Why… why do you keep calling me that?" Pyrrha asked her.

Lysone raised a brow. "Why? Because that's what you are. You're a hero. Only one destined to be a hero, or at least with the instincts of one, would be mad enough to charge down a rampaging chimera. Any sensible person would have simply hidden or turned away. But not you. You ran towards the danger because you knew that there were people who needed help. You did it because it was the right thing to do."

Pyrrha shook her head. "But still… your friends, they died, and for what? My destiny, so that I could kill that monster? What kind of cruelty is that? Are you not angry with me, then, because my destiny got them killed? Wouldn't that mean that they died for nothing if I was meant to kill it anyway?"

"Why would I be angry with you, hero-girl? Were you not listening to a single thing that I just said?" Lysone retorted, as her aged face grew a bit stern. "Thinking you got them killed. Were you the one who set the chimera loose on our homes? Was it you who somehow whispered in their ears that they should stand between the beast and their loved ones? How highly you must think of yourself, to have such terrible and dread powers."

Her eyes narrowed. "That's like blaming the last bit of snow that falls at the end of a mountain avalanche. It's stupid, that line of thinking. You weren't the one that got them killed, and you weren't the one who tore them limb from limb with your claws and fangs. But, if you think otherwise, then you're a self-pitying fool in need of a good clout on the ear to knock the stupid out of your head."

As if to accentuate her point, she raised one of her hands.

Pyrrha could not help but recoil slightly in the face of the woman's subdued and angry vigor. And from the raised hand as well.

It did not clout her behind the ear. Instead, Lysone pointed at her, like a mother scolding her child. "In addition, don't ever think for a second that their sacrifice was in vain; that it was pointless, or that it was simply the result of destiny being cruel. They chose to stand in that creature's way, despite knowing that they would almost definitely get torn limb from limb. They did that, and it helped to keep everyone else in this village safe, keeping that monster from going into the homes. Thus, they embraced destiny, and, through their sacrifice, they kept the beast busy until you arrived to kill it. Because of that, those children are able to play in the sun today, because of that destiny, hero-girl."

Pyrrha glanced at the playing children for a moment, as Lysone's words sank in.

Then, the elder woman's face softened, her stern wrath bleeding away into a slight melancholy. "But, beyond all that…Destiny is what you make of it," the blacksmith said, as she crossed her muscular arms. "It is neither cruel nor kind. It simply is, and always has been, and always will be. To believe otherwise is nothing short of foolish, and, despite your self-pitying, you don't strike me as a fool, hero-girl.

"But, at the same time, destiny can be a tricky thing to ponder. If you passively accept it and just wait for it to happen, then it becomes a heavy fate wrapped tight around your neck and limbs, coming to claim you with uncaring impunity. But if you stride towards it, head held high with little regret, and a will to put one foot in front of the other forward… then it is destiny realized, waiting to embrace you with open arms, as on old friend. Do you understand?"

Pyrrha turned over the woman's words in her head and then nodded. "I… I think so. My aunt... she once told me that destiny isn't so much a predetermined fate you can't escape, but rather a final goal, something that you work towards your entire life."

"Your aunt sounds like she's a wise woman."

"…She was."

For a while, neither said anything else. Then, Pyrrha looked back up at her. "Before I went back to sleep, you said that you dreamed of me, that you dreamed of my coming here, and killing that creature. What else did you see, in your dream?"

Lysone started at her, and there was an unknowable expression in her eyes. Then, she sighed. "A day before the beast attacked, when I was asleep in my bed, I dreamed of you, slaying it. I kept dreaming, and I saw you, walking along a dirt road, and death was settled around your shoulders like a mantle, while seawater adorned your brow. 15 lights lit your way forward, before melting into a wrathful flame that slammed against you with a strength borne of sorrow and anger. But you still kept walking, as if you were invincible, no matter how many times you were battered and beaten. As you kept moving forward, you cast two shadows, neither one larger or small than the other. Your left hand was shining like freshly polished metal, and your right hand bore fire, different from the wrathful flame. Soon enough, you left the path behind, and then strode out onto a sea of endless stars…"

"…And what does any of that mean?" Pyrrha asked.

"That you have something big ahead of you, some grand and unknowable destiny, one bound to cement you in the legends of Theros. Aside from that, I have not a single clue. But what I do know is that you won't be able to find any of it staying here," Lysone said. "You could stay here if you wanted to… but I got a feeling that you won't, right?"

Pyrrha wanted to say that she did… but she knew that Lysone had it right. She couldn't stay.

"Then when should I leave?" The Invincible Girl inquired.

"Well, that's not up to me, hero-girl. That sort of thing is all up to you. You leave when you're ready, though. No one here will turn you out on your ear, rest assured."

"Thank you."

Pyrrha stayed in the village for another two days, recuperating and pondering and sleeping and dreaming. It was a peaceful bit of time and one that Pyrrha would look back upon with fondness. Then, on the third day, she felt ready to depart.

With word having spread that she was soon to leave, the whole village stopped by Lysone's house to shower Pyrrha with gifts and well-wishes, and it was enough to make her cheeks redden. They gave her food and water, and even a few blankets. She had tried to refuse them, but the villagers would have none of it. "You saved us," one of them, a wrinkly old man, said. "What else can we do but return the favor?"

Lysone was the one who gave her the most important ones though; an iron breastplate that looked like it had seen some fair use, and newly-tooled leather armor, made from the skin, wings, and scales of the chimera that Pyrrha had killed, along with a fur mantle crafted from its lion's head and paws that rested across her shoulders. The armor left her arms bare, which suited Pyrrha fine. In addition, Lysone handed her back Miló and Akoúo. Miló's blade looked freshly sharpened, whilst it seemed that Lysone had plied a good bit of her craft to Akoúo. The repaired shield looked the same as before, only with burnished bronze and iron filling in the areas where the chimera had rent it apart with its claws.

"You look like a proper little hero, hero-girl," Lysone said, as Pyrrha donned her gifts, and buckled her greave over her left arm. "The breastplate was mine, from my younger years, and I reckon that it would fit you just as well. May it protect you as it did me."

Of course, that was not the end of it. After gathering everything that she could carry, Pyrrha had stepped outside. Then to her surprise, Ilessia was there, waiting for her outside the house, but not to give her anything, per se. A full pack rested upon the girl's back, and bags and pouches were hanging about herself, along with a tall and sturdy walking stick held in her scarred hands. She seemed quite ready to depart. Almost eager, in fact, if the earnest expression on her face was anything to go by.

Pyrrha looked in askance towards Lysone. The blacksmith simply shook her head. "In her way, she told me that she wants to go with you. I'd take her up on it. Never know when you could use some healing. Or, at the very least, more of that brew of hers."

Seeing there was no use arguing over it, Pyrrha simply shrugged. She was not one to turn down a traveling companion. So, she nodded at Ilessia, and then shook Lysone's calloused hand in gratitude. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you for everything. Any suggestions on where we should head to?"

"It was no great concern or trouble," Lysone replied. "As for a prospective destination? You have your pick of the lot. Meletis to the southwest, Akros to the North, and Setessa to the east. My advice would be Meletis, as it is closer. 'Tis a place brimming with temples to the gods, and mayhap one might give you a clue as to your destiny. But, that's just an old bitch's opinion, so take it or leave it."

The self-deprecation drew a chuckle from the Invincible Girl. "I'll keep that in mind. And again, thank you for everything."

With no further words left to exchange, Pyrrha and her new companion departed.

As they followed the dirt road away from the village, the sun was still making its way across the morning, filling the blue sky with gentle, warming rays. It seemed like a good day. Then, Ilessia tapped Pyrrha on the shoulder and pointed. Pyrrha followed the direction of her finger, and her eyes widened in surprise at what stood on the path before them.

It was a unicorn, like something out of the old myths and legends, and the stories that she used to read as a child. But this one... it was gleaming. Its mane and its horn and tail were all shining like bright gold, and its skin gleamed like a white diamond. It stared out at them with gold, unblinking eyes that shone with a peculiar radiance from across the distance.

Neither Pyrrha nor Ilessia nor the strange creature moved. No one even breathed.

After a long moment, the impossible creature moved, its gem-like muscles rippling. It dipped its head towards the pair, towards Pyrrha, in acknowledgment. Its horn made the motion seem like that of a duelist or arena fighter saluting and bowing with a drawn sword. Then it turned and bounded off and away.

Xxxxxxx

A/N: Read, watch, review, follow, like, and enjoy!