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...

7. Chapter 7

A/N: Here it is, but first, the obligatory disclaimer. 'Looks down at prewritten notes, and then up at the pinkertons hired by MtG and RT to break my legs if I do not post this'. This story is a work of fanfiction, and I hold no monetary gains from either Wizards of the Coast, or Rooster Teeth. All I technically own are the OCS

As always I would like to give a shoutout to everyone who is watching/ following this story. Special shout out to Unseen Lurker, TheMaster4444, mdkcde, Xavier Rell, Arcahm Wyntier, daedalus725, Tassadar, and everyone else.
On with the story, and remember to read, review, watch, follow, favorite, and enjoy!

Chapter 7: Coins, Drinks, Spiders, and Truth

Ruby

Fourth Precinct

Tenth District

Ravnica

Their progress was not fast, but it also wasn't slow. That made sense, because Ruby and her friends were walking. Still, it was slower than perhaps was necessary. That feeling was very reinforced when Rat starting to complain, even after she said she wouldn't. Thus, after roughly half of a very long hour, Xanther decided that they needed to move faster, and so they requisitioned a self-propelled cart from a nearby Izzet workshop that was run by a stringy-looking vedalken. The cart was a bulky thing of wood and steel and mizzium, steered and guided by a series of cranks and levers and knobs. The thing went at about the same speed as a car, if perhaps a little slower, and it was painted red and blue, naturally.

Rat, who had stooped complaining once she caught sight of the cart, had dramatically and bombastically declared that, henceforth, the craft's name was to be 'Speedy,' forevermore. Ruby found herself liking the name as well. She thought it was kind of cute

Xanther offered no comment on the matter, but they didn't offer and word of complaint or protest about it either, which was good. Instead, they set their focus on driving Speedy, expertly weaving the little cart through and past throngs of people and pedestrians. Expertly enough that only a few people cursed at that, or declared that 'they were walking here,' for some weird reason.

Now so equipped, their progress sped up rapidly. The little trio took a right at the fortress-city of Sunhome and floated past and circled around its sheer, impregnable-seeming walls. Ruby could make out armored figures patrolling across its battlements, as well as small flocks of angels soaring in the sky above. She kept watching them as Sunhome disappeared from view behind the buildings and sloping streets.

After some deliberation and perusal of maps, Xanther and Ruby and Rat had come to the (relatively) unanimous decision that the best, safest (and overall, least expensive) route to take to Agyrem would be via the Transguild Promenade. Of course, the nearest (and safest) entrance to the winding street was in Precinct One. Their other option was next to the Red Wastes, so that was a no-go (much to Rat's vocal chagrin).

As the sun reached its afternoon peak, the trio arrived into the First Precinct, passing by squads of blue-and-silver armored Azorius and more pedestrians. As they made their way South towards Plaza West, and thus to the Tenth District Plaza, their grumbling stomachs elected that they all were due a break for a bite to eat.

They stopped at a small restaurant that was selling sandwiches and bought three large things piled high with thinly sliced meats and melted cheeses and grilled onions and bread and lettuce and pickles and tomatoes alongside fried and salted potato wedges. It was all really greasy, filling, and utterly delicious.

As they ate whilst sitting in Speedy's open wagon bed, the trio passed the time people-watching and just looking around at the First Precinct. Ruby took a bite from her sandwich as she observed all the elves, minotaurs, giants, vedalken and other creatures and races going about their various days and business. Replace them with humans and faunus, and she would have found it to have been just another day in Vale. Everything also looked a lot cleaner and fancier here, unlike back in Precinct Four. There weren't as many people carrying weapons. They really looked kind of… rich. It reminded her a bit of how Weiss had described Atlas as being.

As memories of her teammates drifted up, Ruby continued watching all the people. She watched, and as she watched and thought and remembered, the girl from Patch found herself wondering, and not for the first time, if Remnant before Salem's attempted rebellion had been anything like Ravnica was. Had it also been filled to the brim with a myriad of magics and races and angels and demons and dragons and other creatures? Had the cities also been as large?

It also made her wonder why, if there had been other races and things, the Brothers had only elected to bring back the humans and faunus after they had wiped everything, and everybody, else out.

The thought of it made her feel a bit sad, to say the least… and also a bit homesick.

"You okay, Ruby?" Rat's little voice said, breaking through her thoughts.

Ruby turned to look at her little friend, the girl's face splattered with crumbs and sauce. "I'm okay, Rat," she said. "Just lost in thought a bit."

"You wanna talk about it? I'mma good listener."

Ruby felt tempted to. She really did, to just let it all flow out. But, how exactly did you speak to a 6-year-old girl about the fact that you were from another world, you had the ability to move between planes of existence, and you weren't ever able to go home again for the foreseeable future, all the while said home was still in the grip of a multi-millennia-old, cosmically suicidal nihilistic psychopathic narcissist (word of the day calendars)? In addition, as the cherry on top, she had no idea where her friends and family were in the multiverse.

How could one approach that delicately, if at all?

So, instead, she simply gave the little girl a small smile. "Not really, but thank you for offering, Rat. It was very nice of you, and it means a lot."

"Do you feel a little better at least?"

"I think so. A little bit, at least."

The little girl smiled wide at that and gave Ruby a tight little hug, happy that she had helped out.

Her hands were a bit greasy when she did so, but that didn't bother Ruby. After all, it was the thought that counted.

Nothing more was said as the trio finished their meals. Then, after much wiping and washing of hands on the fronts of shirts and in the restaurant sink, Xanther started up Speedy again, and they were off.

As they sped on through the clean and winding streets, they eventually started to pass by a large, imposing building. It was a large, imposing-looking building (what was it called again? Oh yeah, a cathedral!0 festooned with… wow, that was a lot of spikes. A lot. It was full of towering edifices, large, stained-glass windows, and what looked like large, demonically-wrought gargoyles leering and leaning down from every rooftop edge. Even from this distance outside the cathedral, Ruby could hear strange, musical, chanting-like prayers.

At its base, she saw hosts of figures robed in white and black and gold as they entered and departed from its huge carved doors. They were all accompanied by armored men and women who wore strange, cyclopean helmets, and giants as well, all of whom were similarly armored and armed.

Orzhovians. Professor Ozpin had warned her about them, just like he had warned about all the other guilds. "Remember to be wary of any organization that clothes itself in the guise of apparent piety, Ruby. Nothing good has ever come from pledging one's self to a religion. The only thing you can trust will be found within any god-bothering organization is greed, hypocrisy, and death…. Much like the deities who they worship. These traits are quite well embodied within the Orzhov Syndicate, mark my words."

The foot traffic was heavier here, so Xanther was forced to slow Speedy down to a crawl. Eventually, that crawl came to an almost complete halt, since there was some sort of event going on. "Do your burdens weigh heavy upon you?" cried out a priestess draped with chains wrought from gold coins.

Curious, Ruby and Rat stood up to get a better look, the little girl eventually managing to get Ruby to let Rat sit on her shoulders.

The priestess who had spoken earlier was a tall woman with pale, almost snow-white skin, and she was standing atop a gold-painted podium, surrounded on all sides by a small host of armored guards, as well as a slowly-growing crowd of listeners and observers. Half a dozen coin-chains were draped over her black-and-white mantle, softly clinking with every movement that she made. Somehow, it was audible even to Ruby's ears.

From the priestess' neck dangled a medallion wrought in the shape of a sunburst. Inset into its center was a large, shining diamond. Her lips were as red as Ruby's last name, and her eyes were rimmed with kohl. Her long black hair was pulled back and ran straight down her back. She was beautiful and austere in seeming. The wealth displayed about her person only seemed to enhance her beauty.

The priestess raised her hands high, which were adorned with solid gold bracelets and rings, and the entire crowd went quiet. "Oh yes. We are all so burdened. You are burdened. Can you feel them? Can you feel those burdens, like a yoke clamped tight around your neck, like manacles upon your wrist and ankles? I know you do, even if you yourself might believe otherwise. I can feel them, and it pains me, those miserable burdens, those chains that are keeping you from salvation, from release.

"What burdens are those, you might ask? How did I come to gain such horrid weight upon myself? They are the burdens that life will always inflict upon us; hunger, cold, sorrow, wrath, misery, and fear. More than anything else, those six things are what weigh you down, and every day, they only grow heavier."

That set the crowd to murmuring, with a few people crying out in fear. The priestess then raised her hands, as if to calm them. "However, let me first assure you that these burdens? They have been latched upon you through no fault of your own, for I know that you are all undeserving of such horrid things. I know that you struggle; every day, you struggle to make ends meet, to put food on your tables, to clothe yourselves, even. I know, because it is something that I grew up all too familiar with. Those burdens, they take on lives of their own, and if left unchecked, then they hound you beyond death, and will drag you down to a realm worse than life, and it will empty you of joy, of happiness, of success and contentment. Those burdens, they will drag you down towards the chaos of the unknown, to disorder and horror, worse than whatever the sinful Rakdos might inflict upon your corporeal flesh. Is that what you wish, for yourselves, for your families? For your children? Is that what you desire for your eternities? To forever struggle and suffer, because of burdens that you never asked for?"

There were more murmurs of worry among the crowd until the woman spoke again. "Can you not feel it, my children, chained to your souls, to your spirits? The chaos, the fear, the discord? How weighty it is, how tiresome are those burdens? I know, I believe, that you can feel it. Do you not yearn for relief from its dread clutches? Do you not wish for complete and total succor, to rise above the weight of the downtrodden, the destitute, and the derelict? If so, then I am going to tell you how your burdens might be so relieved, just as I learned, when my burdens were about ready to rend me apart from their weight.

"You see, it is only through wealth that they can be combatted, my children. Wealth and charity; the wealth of the physical and the spirit, and the complete and utter charity of the self. It is through that charity, that wealth, that the burdens laid so unjustly upon you might be lifted. It is only through that charity and wealth that a better life may be achieved, and that you may find the path to salvation."

She then gave the whole of the crowd a motherly smile, as if to say that all was okay; the nightmare was over. "Salvation, it waits for those who are willing to give and receive, my children. And we of the Orzhov? Well, we are ever ready and willing to give, for that is all we truly desire. For are we not the precious gold? Are we not the wealth of life? With us, within us, Orzhova is gilt. With us, within us, it gleams most bright! And what is the meaning of wealth, but to be shared amongst those who we love and who love us? Those who need help? So let it in, I tell you, I beseech of you! Let it in! Let in the gilt, so that the weight of your burdens may be assuaged by its gleam and glitter! Be as us, so that you may achieve salvation and true wealth everlasting!"

She then looked down at the crowd and began to point. "So, I ask you this; will you receive this step towards salvation? Will you? Or you?"

For a moment, it seemed as if she was staring right at Ruby. "Are you prepared to receive this charity, and are you in turn willing to help those whose burdens are just as dire? No matter what the cost might be?"

There came no answer, and Ruby herself was unsure of what answer could be given to such a question.

As the question dissipated into the air, a small group of squats, deformed little creatures then started waddling through the crowds holding out large bowls above their heads. The bowls were filled to the brim with shining zibs and zinos. Ruby had never seen so much money at once. It almost didn't seem real.

The priestess gave another motherly smile and gestured welcomingly, like how a parent would when encouraging a child to try something new. "Please, take what you wish from the bowls. Take as much as you like, for there is plenty of wealth to go around. Stuff your pockets to the brim! Partake of the Orzhov wealth, of its kindness and generosity. Partake, and thus let your lives and souls be ever more enriched. Spend them however you so desire. Make yourselves happy, or at least a little less sad, and know that Orzhova is wealth, and wealth is love. Then, if you so wish, join us later for Tithe prayers in Orzhovia! Bring your friends and family! All are welcome beneath the gleam and glimmer of the gilt, of Orzhova!"

As more and more coins were eagerly withdrawn from the bowls and shoved into pockets, the priestess spread her arms wide. "All are welcome to join us in prayer as well, and take the first step towards a grand and happy salvation-"

"LIARS!"

The cry cut through the air, like a fired pistol. All paused in their taking of the coins, and turned to see a small group of raggedly-dressed men and women, pushing and shoving their way through the crowd to the podium. They were led by an emaciated-looking human woman, with long, stringy hair, wrinkled features, and a prominent, hook-like nose. Despite her apparent age, she stood straight and unbent. "Do not waste your time listening to these liars and cheats and thieves!" the woman cried out, as she pointed a bony finger towards the priestess. "There is no salvation awaiting within the arms of their false and blasphemous religion! All they offer you folk are lies and falsehoods, and an eternity of debt and servitude, suffering and toil! Just like all the other guilds, but this one's clutches are so very tight! Damn the Orzhov! Damn their greedy ways! Damn them, and damn the guilds who ever seek to control us, whether in life or in death!"

She then upturned one of the bowls of coins from the hands of one of the malformed creatures, sending its contents clattering and clinking to the ground. No one in the crowd dared to pick them up. The rest of her followers soon joined their voices to hers. "DAMN THE GUILDS! DAMN THE ORZHOV!"

The priestess watched the scene impassively and then scoffed. "You infidels are all the same. Guards, get rid of them. They are frightening my flock."

Undeterred at the threat, the woman continued to shout and bellow. "Hear me, ghost witch, ad hear me, my brothers and sisters! The day will soon be upon us when the guilds shall face judgment for all they have wrought upon Ravnica! Judgment is coming! Do you hear it, as it beats and descends upon its wings of midnight!? Judgment is coming, and it will fall upon all the monsters and traitors of Ravnica that hide behind the gates of the guilds! Judgment is coming, in all its ineffable glory and horror, and it will damn those like this coin-counting creature! The judgment of the true gods of our home is at hand! Repent! Repent! Repent or be truly damned!"

As she ranted and raved, the gold-armored guards started making their way through the crowd towards the ragged group, with their maces and shields at the ready. The woman spat at their feet before gesturing to her followers. "Aye, that's right! Hide behind your gold and guards and ghosts, Orzhovian whore! They will do you no good when the Reckoning comes! Oh, but you shall not bludgeon us today, though! We are not so foolish as to attack such big and mighty guards, so afraid of us that they take fifty for a group of twenty! Look upon them, brothers and sisters. See the fear on their faces, and remember it well!"

The group then departed, their chants still ringing clear until they vanished into the depths of Plaza West.

The Orzhov priestess let loose a long and theatrical sigh, full of martyry long-suffering. "As ever, that is but some of the challenges that we must face in life; the spite and spit of the unbeliever and the heretic, of those who are unwilling to do what must be done; to pay the price for salvation. But do you see, how they quail and retreated before the godly, the giving? Selfishness will always crumble before the gilt. So please, be not deterred or afraid, my children, for I know, in my heart, that you are all true and goodly folk. So please; come into the fold. Come into our warm embrace, and achieve a most blessed and rich eternity. Join our family, for we are the wealth of life."

With that, she descended from the podium and strode proudly and regally towards the grand cathedral, surrounded by her guards. A large portion of the crowd followed her as she departed, looks of joy upon their faces.

With the crowd dispersed, there was enough room for Xanther to maneuver their cart, and so off they went, Rat clambering down from Ruby's shoulders as they did so. Ruby kept her eyes on the towering cathedral as they headed on their way. Over its spires, she thought she could make out glowing, translucent figures, hovering by the spikes and the leering gargoyles.

"Are you prepared to give? No matter what the cost might be?"

Roughly an hour later, they made their way to The First Precinct's entrance to Transguild Promenade.

Then, they headed southeast. They were on their way.

Religious questions could wait later; Ruby and her friends had the other half a thing to find, after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaune

The Wilds

Eldraine

The fire crackled and spat sparks and embers, while he rested his head in his hands, massaging his temples as he did so. "Well, it's official… I think that I've gone completely nuts," he declared with absolute certainty.

It was the sort of certainty reserved for knowing that the sun rose and set each day, or that the sky was blue, and grass grew and that people eventually died.

"You have not gone mad," came the maddening reply.

"That really is not helping my case," Jaune said, as he looked up. "No, no…. this is how it is. I killed three people (four or more, if you count that giant and those redcaps), and combining that with being lost in these fucking woods for who-knows-how-long… so yeah, I've lost my mind. Snapped, flew over the cuckoo's nest… yeah."

He dropped his head back into his hands with a sigh.

The unicorn, whose flank that he was currently leaning against on the ground, snorted and shook its horned head. "It has been my experience that only sane people think themselves to be mad. One who has an unsound mind would believe that everyone else is mad. Since that does not seem to be the case with you, then I can only assume that you are, in fact, quite sane."

Jaune leveled a flat stare over his shoulder at his new companion's equine face. "I know."

"Then why the theatrics?"

"Because I wasn't ready to mentally process the fact that you're a talking horse!"

"Unicorn."

"Right, yes. Sorry."

The fire crackled and spat and popped. Meanwhile, Jaune felt restless.

After the battle in the ravine, Jaune had sat there crying for a long while over what he had done, and what he had been through. Then, after he had wept his fill, he had simply… stood up, collected his weapons, and left, just walking in no real direction. To his surprise, the unicorn had deigned to follow him. That had been… alright. At the very least, it was nice not to be alone in… wherever the hell it is that he was.

For the rest of the day, the unicorn had followed him silently. Thankfully, the rest of the day had been bereft of any more altercations or elves. Then, as he had made a campfire for the night, the unicorn had asked if it could sit by the fire as well.

Yeah. Talking animals. That was Jaune's new normal now. That, alongside the small matter that his touching people with his left hand apparently killed them, and the fact that strange memories were flashing in his head, and, as the cherry on top, he could summon ghosts!

"You are staring off into space again," the unicorn said.

"Sorry, just… tired, I guess. Also, a bit… antsy, if that makes any sense."

"There is no need to apologize. You've had a trying day. What you're feeling is perfectly reasonable."

Jaune scoffed. "Yeah, because killing three people in cold blood is one definition of a 'trying day.' That's it, alright."

He slapped his cheeks and stood up. "I just need to move around for a bit. You can keep resting by the fire if you want."

"Thank you."

Jaune walked over to the other side of the campfire, and drew Crocea Mors' broken half and Benedict's blade, and started to cycle through everything that he apparently knew, on top of what he had learned.

Parry, cut, riposte, turn, back-step, backstep, duck, sweep, bludgeon with the off-hand pommel, cut, cut, slash, stab-

… "Remember, use the blade in your stronger hand to block your opponent's attack, and your offhand blade to cut and stab," Rhodes said, as he adjusted Jaune's stance. Meanwhile, the light from the moon shone into the basement through the small window….

… "You must be as the birds in the sky; swift, decisive, and just as hard to hit!" the elderly elf declared, as he yelled in Jaune's face. "Else you are no better than the animals that drove us out from our ancestral homes. Again!" …

… He impaled No-Hair through the chest and out the back with both his swords. The elf gasped and gurgled, and then fell…

… The elf stiffened, vomited out a mouthful of blood onto Jaune's face, and fell to the left, sliding off the dagger still held tight in Jaune's hand…

… He 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 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…

SQUELCH

He stumbled, and his invisible, intangible, and imaginary foe cut him down.

Dead.

With a raspy growl of frustration, Jaune sheathed his blades and clutched his head. What the hell was happening to him!?

As he looked down at his hands, they started to tremble, and it seemed as if they were drenched in red. They wouldn't stop shaking.

SQUELCH

He sank to his knees and clutched at his head. "What… what is wrong with me!?" he cried out, as tears stung in the corners of his eyes.

The sound of hooves against soft ground heralded the unicorn's approach. A moment later, it knelt and laid its head against his shoulder and neck, just as in the ravine. "I understand how you are feeling in this moment," it said gently. "The taking of a life; it is no light thing, no simple burden that can be brushed off. It stays with you forever."

Jaune said nothing and just kept shaking, small tears streaking down his cheeks. The unicorn was right; he could not get it out of his head.

SQUELCH-

"Still, though this might be of little comfort to you, know this; I am grateful, for what you did."

That caught Jaune's attention, and he slowly pulled his hands away from his face to look into the Unicorn's eyes. "You're… grateful? Wh-why?" he rasped.

"Those elves, they attacked me. They were going to kill me for sport, all in the name of their horrid Wild Hunt. Then, they would have devoured me and turned my coat and horns and bones into macabre trophies. And they would have enjoyed and celebrated every last moment of it. They were going to slaughter me… and instead, you saved me. You spared me from the grisly fate."

"But… I killed them! I was going to kill that black-haired one, Jelda, when she was helpless. I didn't try and talk things out. I just attacked, like some rabid animal!"

The unicorn blinked. "Did you enjoy it, then?"

"… What?"

"Did you enjoy it; killing them? Did it send a thrill through your body?"

Jaune's eyes widened in horror. "No! No, gods no! I would never enjoy something like that."

The unicorn whickered softly. "That alone shows me that you are not a monster or some rabid animal. Besides, you spared 'Jelda.' You spared her, and she, in turn, did not attack you."

It nuzzled its head and neck against him. "For what it's worth, I do not think you are a monster. Nay; you are a hero, in my own eyes. A true knight, one who defends the helpless, just as you defended me."

That really caught Jaune's attention. "You… you really think that?"

"Whole-heartedly, good Syr. Wholeheartedly."

Everything was quiet for a moment, as Jaune contemplated the unicorn's words. He then wound his arm loosely around its neck in a tired hug. "Thanks… I guess."

They remained that way for perhaps a minute or two, in that odd embrace. The pair then stood up, and Jaune dusted himself off. "Hey, uh, I know I should have asked you this sooner, but… what's your name?"

"My name? My kind doesn't truly have 'names' in the manner of you humans and the like," the unicorn replied.

"Oh," Jaune said, feeling a bit stupid.

He then awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Well… would you mind if I gave you one, then? My name's Jaune, by the way. Jaune Arc."

Why did he say his last name? That probably meant just as little to it as a first name!

Still, the unicorn seemed to ponder his proposal for a moment and then nodded in an equine manner. "Very well," it said. "I only ask that your name for me be a dignified one."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, of course. Wouldn't dare dream of doing otherwise," Jaune said, hurriedly.

Of course, that then begged the question; what kind of 'dignified' name did you give a freaking unicorn, of all things?

He wracked his brain, trying to think of something, anything. Then, a memory came to him.

… "What should we name her?" his dad asked him and his sisters as he guided the colt up to the fence.

Everyone else began throwing out a bunch of clichés and usual and kind of stupid names for a horse, ranging from runner to Hoofy to even Boo-boo.

Then, amidst the clamor, Jaune spoke up, remembering some of grandpa's stories about great-great-grandpa during the Great War. "How about Gringolet?"

Everyone had looked at him funnily at his suggestion, with some of his sisters bursting out into laughter at the name. But dad? Dad had appeared thoughtful for a moment and then shrugged. "It's certainly an interesting choice. Alright, her name will be Gringolet."

"How about Gringolet?" Jaune asked.

The unicorn appeared to consider this for a moment and then neighed softly. "An interesting name, and yet it seems to bear a certain dignity. Very well, it shall suffice."

Jaune found himself smiling a small bit. "Well then, it's… nice to meet you, I guess, Gringolet."

"And you as well, Syr Jaune."

Jaune patted Gringolet's neck and then yawned. "Well, I'm feeling a little tired. What say we get some rest, a bit of shut-eye? Then, I guess we'll… continue wherever it is that we're going, I suppose."

"Sounds like a fair plan. I've already eaten my fair share of grass, and I could do with a bit of sleep."

For some reason, that made Jaune chuckle a bit. So, he made sure the fire would not spread, and then bunched up his cloak, and laid his head to sleep…

…

…

… "Tell me another story, grandpa! Please?"

Jaune looked up at his grandpa from his seat on the floor in front of the fireplace. To Jaune, the man resembled nothing less than an old, knotted oak tree full of muscle and wrinkles and hard lines that crinkled with laughter. As always, he was sat in his favorite rocking chair, carved from birch and ash.

Grandpa Arc stroked his snowy beard with a large hand. Jaune had seen him crush whole walnuts between two of his fingers. That was always fun to watch.

"Another story, eh? It is getting rather late, though. Your parents don't like you staying up so late, Jaune."

"Please? Just one more? I'll go to bed right after. Promise, promise, promise!"

"A triple promise, eh? That's quite a heady oath, boy. You really going to keep it?"

Jaune bobbed his head rapidly up and down, and his grandfather smiled, the motion making his lined face seem to almost shatter into a thousand little cracks and creases. "Alright. What story would you like to hear?"

"I want to hear about great-great-grandpa! About how he was a hero!"

Grandpa nodded at that. "I see. You really like stories about heroes, don't you, laddie?"

"Uh-huh! Heroes are awesome. They get all the awesome stories! I want to be one too!"

Grandpa smiled…

"Do you really think you can be a hero?"

Jaune whirled around at the voice as it echoed all about. Grandpa and the fire and the rocking chair were all gone, and Jaune as no longer sitting. Instead, he was standing in a dark void. He was also grown up, and his left arm was scarred and scabbed and burned over; pain radiating all over.

… "You're just not that talented."

… "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

… "Jaundice! Jaundice! Jaundice!"

… "Aw, that's so cute, you wanting to be a huntsman!"

… "You can't do this. You have no talent for it."

… "This is the part, where you lose."

… "Say it!"

… "You will be forgotten."

… "You're nothing short of pathetic."

…"You can't do this. Just do the right thing, the smart thing, and give up already. It's not that hard."

"You've been fooling yourself, Jaune. You don't have what it takes, to be a huntsman, a warrior… a hero. You never did. Not once, in all your useless years. And you know that, deep down. All you did was steal a sword that wasn't yours, and lie and cheat. You're not like your sisters, right? They have the ability and talent, right? Unlike you."

"SHUT UP!" Jaune called out into the void over the voices. "SHUT UP, "SHUT UP, "SHUT UP!"

His chest heaved with rage and exertion, and all was silent for a moment.

"All you are… is a thief, a liar… and a murderer."

… Rhodes gasped in pain, as Jaune's stolen blades sank into his chest. The look in his eyes was confused…

… Amber's screams were like heaven to his ears…

…. Benedict smiled sadly, as he faded to ash…

… The danger slipped easily into the back of Brown-hair's spine…

… No-Hair's face was frozen in shock as he slid off the two swords…

… Quick gurgled, as the dagger was shoved into the side of his neck…

SQUELCH.

"Is all this true, Jaune?"

Jaune slowly looked up to see… her. It was Pyrrha, standing tall and proud, while her arms and armor seemed to glimmer and shine in some non-existent light.

"Pyrrha?" he gasped out, as he reached forward with an outstretched hand.

She stepped away from him, her emerald eyes were cold and judging in place of their usual warmth. "What have you done?" she asked as she started at him, at his hands. "Jaune, what have you done?"

He followed her gaze downwards and saw that his hands were drenched in sticky blood, all the way up to the elbow.

He looked back up and saw that she was far away, walking away. "You're a monster. A murderer."

"Pyrrha, wait! Please, let me explain!"

He tried to take a step forward, to chase after her… and found something tugging him back, holding him in place. Ghostly hands were clenched tight around his neck, arms, chest, and legs.

"Pyrrha!"

He felt himself being dragged down; down, down into the darkness, the endless void. He was drowning, sinking ever downwards, while the inky blackness crept up over his eyes. All the while, Pyrrha continued to walk away.

"This is what you deserve."

"Pyrrha!"

When he woke up, he was drenched in sweat, and his heart was thumping rapidly in his chest like a demented drumbeat.

Gringolet was already awake, and the campfire had guttered down to embers.

"Are you unwell?" the unicorn asked, concern shining in its eyes.

Jaune wiped his right hand down his face, taking several deep breaths as his heartbeat slowed down. "Yeah… I'm fine. I'm fine. Just… just bad dreams."

Jaune smothered out the remnants of the campfire, and then they continued on their way. He would have eaten something but… he had finished off the last of his rations two nights ago, which was… really, really not good at all. He managed to discern a few safe berries, but he had no real idea what the plan would be going forward.

As if to punctuate that thought, his stomach growled.

… Ah hell, one step at a time.

As the sun shone through the forest, they made their way… well, at this point, all Jaune could figure was they were heading somewhere. No idea where that 'somewhere' was, though.

If Olive were here, she would probably know. She had always been the most outdoorsy of his sisters, after all. Hell, she could track a bird on a cloud day. He had actually seen her do that, once.

She had never really teased him for falling into the river that one time, which was… great.

She still teased him for a bunch of other stuff, though…

"Why will you not ride upon my back, Jaune?" Gringolet asked, its voice shaking him from his ruminations.

Jaune shook his head and stared at the unicorn. "Look, I appreciate the offer and all, and I am thankful for you carrying the saddlebags… but I really, really, don't want to end up speaking in a high-pitched voice for the rest of my life, you get me?"

Seriously, what sort of idiot, male or female, voluntarily rode bareback? Growing up on a farm with horses… riding bareback was just stupid.

Dad had once sat down Jaune and his sisters and had pointedly described it as 'slamming a stone between your legs over and over again while jumping up and down. You ended up sore, numb, and in desperate need of a hospital.'

Jaune then sighed. "Also… I don't feel entirely comfortable riding something that can talk back to me, you know?"

"So, you would feel more at ease if I were a dumb beast, yes?"

Jaune's eyes widened and he waved his arms about. "What!? No, no, no, that's not what I meant at all! Not at all! I just-"

His rambling was quickly cut off by the sound of Gringolet chuffing. It almost sounded like… laughter. "Wait… was that a joke? Did you make a joke?"

Gringolet nodded. "Indeed, it was. Just a simple jest on my part. Forgive me, but you are rather easy to tease, it seems."

Jaune crossed his arms and pouted. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."

"But in all seriousness… is there no other reason why you will not ride me, aside from the lack of a saddle?"

Jaune looked at his new companion for a moment, scrunched up his face in thought, and then shrugged. "I don't know, I just… wouldn't it be kind of disrespectful, treating you like that? I already feel bad enough letting you carry the saddlebags like you're a draft horse or something. You're a talking, thinking creature, and treating you like a beast of burden? It just… it just wouldn't sit right with me."

Gringolet tossed their head back. "Such chivalry. I thank you for it, but I will insist that you consider doing so once we locate a saddle. I have borne riders before, Syr Jaune. It is of no bother to me, as long as they are noble in spirit and deed. Such as you."

Jaune felt a little guilty when it said that. He had good reason to, after all. "Yeah… maybe not call me that just yet? I haven't actually been knighted yet, nor do I think I have adequately embodied any of the five virtues yet…"

Okay, how did he know what those were!?

Gringolet simply snorted. "One does not need formal titles to show what they truly are, only deeds and actions. As I said earlier, I have seen you, as you saved my life, standing valiantly against those elves. You are already a knight in my eyes, so I feel it is only right that I call you such."

"Well, when you put it like that… thanks, I guess."

As impossible as such an action might have been, it looked to Jaune like Gringolet had managed to crack a smile on their equine face. "Such self-deprecating modesty. It's almost uncanny, but you remind me of my first rider."

"Really? And what were they like?"

"Much like you. He was greatly unsure of his place in the world, but he always tried his best to do the right thing, to live by the code of honor and chivalry, and to defend the helpless and the innocent, and stand strong in the face of all that was evil and foul. And, in the end, I always like to believe that he had managed to exceed his own self-estimations."

Wow. That was… wow. After a moment, Jaune found his words. "Huh, sounds like he was a real hero."

"He was, until his very last breath."

"What was his name?"

"…Nuada," Gringolet replied. "His name was Nuada."

And Jaune reminded the unicorn of this person? How?

The conversation petered out afterward, and the duo continued onwards in comfortable silence, though Jaune's stomach was now starting to hurt a bit. Thankfully, as the morning gave way to late afternoon, they encountered no monsters or redcaps or giants or such… so that was good.

As they walked, Jaune rubbed a hand over his face and felt… bristles.

Huh, seemed like he was growing a beard.

Then… something happened, and, it seemed to start with the moment Jaune crunched a twig underfoot. Almost as if that had been the signal for some sort of change.

As he and Gringolet had continued onwards the woods had suddenly seemed to grow darker, and colder. Not colder in a physical sense, but more in the way that made you… weary. Afraid, even. More than that, it felt… wrong. Although, his breath did also mist up a bit, so there was that.

In addition, when Jaune looked up… he saw that there were webs, everywhere. Webs that blocked out the sun and the light, keeping the forest floor all but shrouded in shadow. More than that though… there was a palpable dread in the air; oppressive and overwhelming, even.

It reminded him a bit of the grimm. Also, he could have sworn that he saw shapes, scuttling and dangling on the other side of the webs…

"This seems a most fell place," Gringolet said, as the unicorn huddled close to him.

"Yeah. No kidding," Jaune agreed.

Maybe they should try and turn back-

"Help! HELP!"

The cry cut through air like a freshly fired dust bullet, punctuated by screams and grunts of terrors… and the sound of chittering laughter that sent chills down his spine.

The cries for help came again, and Jaune took a deep breath, clenching his left fist tight. The last time he had charged in…

SQUELCH.

He wanted to run the other way.

… "You can run, but you're going to be running for the rest of your life," Rhodes said, with an understanding smile…

What was he doing? He'd wanted to be a hero, right? Heroes never ignored cries for help. Even if they were coming from up in the treetops of really fucking creepy, spiderweb forests.

Jaune turned towards Gringolet, while removing his boots and socks and the rest of his armor, save for his breastplate, before stowing them away into the saddlebags. "Stay here,' he said. "If I'm not back soon…"

Gringolet nodded. "I understand."

With that, Jaune headed into the forest, following the cries for help. He walked until he came to a large, knotted oak tree. Up above was where the cries seemed to originate.

He looked up towards the webs. Swallowing, Jaune checked that his swords and knives were secure and tight upon his person. Then, he reached up and started to climb. Slowly, slowly as he pulled himself upwards. His fingers scrabbled and searched for handholds as he slowly ascended.

It was weird but… he never remembered ever being this good at climbing before. Jade had always been, though.

… He ascended the walls like a nimble squirrel, laughing all the while. Quick, quick, quick he was…

… He scurried up the side of the tower, the cloth mask gentle against his face…

… "A strong grip is key to everything," his aunt said, as she flipped back her red hair…

Wait… he didn't have an aunt with red hair-

Not important right now! Focus on the climbing and the cries for help. Worry about the strange memories later…

Find a handhold. One at a time. One at a time.

As he reached a branch that looked solid enough to stand on, he took stock of his surroundings. Just as on the floor, there were webs as far as the eye could see. There were also large, spider-silk-wrapped bundles, most of whom looked… people-sized.

The cries for help sounded out again and coming from in front of him at that.

There was another solid-looking branch several feet ahead, part of a huge tree wreathed by many intercepting branches and trunks… and there was nothing between him and it, save for webs or empty space.

It was something of a large gap, and also a long way down. If he missed, he would probably fall. His aura would probably protect him but…

"Your great-great-great-grandfather learned a lesson rather quickly in those early days of the Great War," grandpa said, as he rocked back and forth. "If you stopped to consider the probablys, then you almost certainly ended up dead. At times, you just have to go for it, probablys be damned. A hero can do no less."

… Probablys be damned.

With that, Jaune took a breath and a step forward and then leaped.

He soared through the air for the briefest of moments, his hands and feet outstretched… and just barely made it, the branch making a slight creak as he lit upon it.

He flailed his arms to regain balance and hurled himself forward against the body of the tree, gripping it tightly for a moment.

Through the gap made by two of the other branches, Jaune saw more shapes woven into the webs, and… a small person, perhaps less than a foot tall, ensnared and screaming for help. "HELP US! HELP!"

Then, there came a skittering and scuttling noise as…

Quickly, Jaune managed to crouch and hide behind the tree trunk as the monstrous shapes swarmed and scuttled into view.

Spiders. Not grimm, but actual, eight-legged, eight-eyed spiders…. That were the size of a car or a motorcycle.

Why the hell did it have to be spiders? And why did they have to be so freaking huge!?

They were all scuttling about on the webs, chittering and dragging more and more silk-covered shapes. The tiny figure kept on screaming as the spiders approached.

Then, to Jaune's slight shock… he heard them speak. "This one keeps making sounds! When will it grow quiet?"

"Patience, webmate. Its cries bring us ever more prey from its companions. We will drink and lap well in the coming days."

"Perhaps, but it is tiresome. Let us feast now. I grow hungry and thirsty with every passing moment."

As Jaune kept a hand over his mouth, he heard one climbing down the other side of the trunk.

He shut his eyes tight for a moment, keeping absolutely still all the while. Then, he heard it scurry away, no doubt joining the others. All the while, the spiders continued hissing out their words.

"Yes. Let us drink its faerie blood. I want first taste."

"Don't be greedy. Let us let us! Good juice inside."

"Good juice inside all, though their hides are tough."

"Yes, but they are alive. Kill it, kill them now, we have waited long enough."

Jaune clenched his left fist tight. He… he had to do something. Then, he looked down at his left hand with its clenched fist.

Maybe? He had to try

He closed his eyes and tried to remember how it had happened last time. Though last time, it had been in the thick of battle, and right now, he was hiding, not fighting.

Dammit, this wasn't helping! He just needed a distraction. Something, something, anything-

He felt a strange sensation from his left hand. He peeked open his eyes, and saw that it was glowing, the same as last time.

From the glow coalesced a humanoid figure, also crouching like he was. Then details began to emerge and…

It was Quick.

For a moment, the elf's specter simply looked at him, at the one who had killed him. Then, a sly smile wound its way across the dead elf's face, and it winked at Jaune.

A moment later, the specter leaped oof the branch, landed on a lower one, drew its ghostly blade, and started to… slash and cut all around it wildly, all the while throwing out pieces of broken wood and branches, and belting out great bellows of laughter. "HA-HA!" it cried out as it slammed a large piece of bark against a trunk. "HA-HA! HA-HA! HA-HA!"

As one, the spider's conversation rapidly switched as the noise drew their attention. "What?" "What is it?" "What is it, what is it? What is laughing? What is that noise!"

Quick's specter kept laughing, and tossed several more pieces of wood far away from Jaune's hiding place and the spiders, far down to the forest floor. "HA-HA! HA-HA!"

En masse, the massive arachnids swarmed towards the direction of the ruckus. As they did, the Specter let loose one last "HA-HA!" and then dissipated into an ephemeral grey mist that rushed its way back into Jaune's arm.

The spider all swarmed past his hiding spot, unnoticing of Jaune or of the dissipating specter. They all just swarmed and skittered away, amidst cries of "What is it? What is it? Where? Where?"

In a moment, they had all vanished into the rest of the forest.

Taking a small breath, he slowly rose and crept around the trunk… only to see that one spider had stayed behind. Thankfully, the thing's back(?) was towards him, and instead, it was focused solely on the ensnared figure, who continued to struggle in vain away from the beast… and who could see Jaune as he crept forward.

Jaune put a finger to his lips, hoping that the small figure would understand. All it did was blink. Still, it somehow did not give him away, even as the spider loomed over it with its mandibular fangs.

"I want a taste!" the spider declares, as it opened its fangs and-

Jaune raised Crocea Mor's broken blade and slashed it into its abdomen.

The spider reared back and let loose a disturbingly human-like scream as it did so. "Ah! What? Where did that come from? WHERE IS IT!?"

As it turned, Jaune gave a little wave. "From here," he said.

Before it could react, he stabbed Crocea Mors deep through its face. The spider screamed again as it flailed about. "Stings! It stings! It stings and burns! Ahhh-"

As it expired, Jaune gingerly shoved the fresh arachnid corpse off his blade and briefly watched as it tumbled to the forest floor below.

Without further ado, Jaune went about freeing the tiny figure, sawing through the webs with Crocea Mors' edge as gingerly as he could. He (for it was a he, as far as he could tell) had purplish skin, a shock of dark-blue hair, and… long, gossamer wings.

The moment it was freed, it hovered up. 'Thank you. Now please, help everyone else!" it said, as it gestured to the other still forms wrapped in spider silk.

Jaune nodded, and swiftly severed the strands, allowing the trapped prey to tumble out into consciousness as they made their way to the forest floor.

After a few moments, there were all freed. The tiny faerie smiled in gratitude at Jaune's actions. "Thank you, hum- WATCH OUT!"

The minute Jaune turned, he looked into a spider's mouth as it tackled him, sending them both falling and tumbling off the branch as well.

As they plummeted, the spider tried to bite and latch onto Jaune's neck, only for him to stab Corcea Mors through the… part of its body where its face came out of.

As he stabbed, he grabbed one of its front legs, pulled it close, and maneuvered it under him so that its body cushioned the landing.

Still, it hurt, even through his aura and breastplate, especially when they had impacted against several branches on the way down. Several of those, he had been the one to smash through them, and back first at that.

Ow.

Around him, the figures he had cut free were waking up, pulling off their cobwebs amidst a slew of curses. Some were short, squat, and powerfully muscled with long beards, carrying axes and pickaxes and hammers. Others were only a foot or two long with strange feather wings… and some were elves, with long and slightly-curved swords.

That last thing set him slightly on edge, but then he relaxed, seeing as they did not seem to recognize him at all.

The faerie he had rescued flittered down to alight upon his shoulder desperately. "There are more coming!" he squealed. "From the trees!"

A moment later, a veritable horde of spiders scuttled down to surround them.

Jaune drew Benedict's sword, and his left arm glowed to life, this time with Benedict appearing, ghostly blade at the ready.

As one he, the specter, and the now-freed other people all raised their weapons and charged forward! The giant arachnids held no terrors for them! Soon the forest was alight with the sounds of and sights of flashing swords, bellowed curses, and the screams of spiders. At times there were also shouts of "RED FELL!" and "FOR THE LADY!"

The spiders, when they were cut, bled a strange, yellowy, viscous substance, and it swiftly got everywhere. Jaune simply did his best not to let any get into his mouth. It smelled… well, it smelled bad.

Fangs and legs banged off his aura and the worn metal of his breastplate, while his blades lent themselves to a furious whirlwind of cuts and slashes. His arms were the areas most covered in the aforementioned spider-gunk.

He and the others were making some headway, but there were still too many. All the while, the little faerie clung tightly to his shoulder.

There were still too many. Eventually, Benedict's specter dissipated, and Jaune found that he was starting to get tired. It was all he could do to keep parrying and cutting. How long would his aura last- "Hold on! I am coming!"

Then, in a flurry of neighs, whinnies, snorts, hooves, and a stabbing horn, Gringolet appeared, crunching and kicking spiders as the unicorn made its way to Jaune's side.

"What the hell!?" Jaune exclaimed as he sliced off a few mandibles, eliciting another spidery shriek of pain and agony. "I thought I told you to wait!"

"You did, but then you also intimated that, if you didn't return soon, I was to charge in after you and rescue you," the unicorn said.

"That wasn't it at all!" Jaune cried as he cut through three eyes and 4 legs, releasing a fresh torrent of spidery blood over his person. "I thought I had made it obvious, unspokenly, that you were to get out of here as fast as possible!"

"And why would I ever do that?" Gringolet asked. "I owe my life to you, and thus I have sworn myself to your service. I would not be a very dependable companion and partner if I simply abandoned you as such!"

… partner, huh?

Jaune rolled his eyes but decided it was best not to really argue about it at the moment. Besides… he actually found the loyalty a bit touching. Enough to put a smile on his spider gunk-covered face. He then promptly hacked a particularly large spider into messy chunks, before leaping forward and smashing his bare foot against another's face with a crunch. The motion also left… stuff on the bottom of his foot

Oh man, why did he have to climb barefoot again!?

Though there were still many spiders, it was as if the unicorn's arrival had heralded some unseen signal. Soon, the tide began to turn, and the remaining spiders either retreated or were cut down.

As the battle wound down to a close, the sun started to peek through the trees, almost as if the spider's demise had helped to push back whatever wicked thing had been keeping the warm rays out. Jaune sheathed his blades and wiped an arm across his brow. There… there was a lot of sweat.

And gunk. Lots and lots and lots of spider gunk.

Then again, he was not sure when the last time he had taken a bath. Ugh, was it all just crusted on him now?

One of the dwarves ambled up to him. Even compared to the others, this one was powerfully and stoutly built, and his hair and beard were each a wild and fiery brown in hue. There was still a good amount of spiderweb clinging to his person and the aforementioned beard, but his presence was not lessened by it at all. He almost looked kingly, in fact.

"You the one who saved us, human?" he asked. His voice deep and craggy like an avalanche of stones.

Jaune was really feeling tired, but he nodded. Would have been rude not to answer, right? Before he could say anything though, the tiny faerie still clinging at his shoulder nodded and spoke up. "Yeah, he did! So how about a little gratitude, Torbran! It won't kill you dead to say thank you, you bearded badger!"

The now-named Torbran growled at the faerie. Then, he peered up at Jaune with what looked like respect in his flinty eyes. "Aye? Well, I suppose that you have some steel in yer backside, then. Thank you for saving me, my kin… and, I suppose, the rest of these forest bastards."

Jaune gave a small smile. "Thanks. No… no problem. Just… doing what's… right."

Trobran cocked an eyebrow. "Aare you unwell?"

It was getting hard to stand up… and his stomach was really hurting now. "Sorry, just… really hungry and… really tired."

The dwarf nodded. "Maybe we should get you something to eat then."

"Yeah, that sounds nice. And maybe someplace nice to… rest. Just… five minutes…."

Yeah, a rest. That really sounded… nice. Huh… why was the world spinning, all of a sudden?

He felt hungry.

Before he knew it, Jaune's legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground….

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yang

Sea Gate

Zendikar

She had gotten a message on her scroll to meet in the main courtyard, by the statue. The ID had read 'unknown.'

She watched as the woman in leather armor reached up, and removed her grimm-like mask. Yang then clasped her eyes on a face that looked remarkably like an aged-up version of her own, only with red eyes instead of purple, black hair instead of gold.

"Hey… mom," Yang said.

The woman said nothing for a long moment and just seemed to stare at her with narrowed eyes, the motion making her odd tattoos contort. "That was a one-time thing," she said, her voice like Yang's.

That... had not been what she had been expecting to hear at all. "Wha-what? What are you talking about?"

"The train. Me saving you from that pint-sized psychopath. That was your one get-out-of-jail-free card, Yang. Don't ever expect me to ever help you again."

She then turned around and started to walk away, her heels clicking clearly against cobblestones.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The shock gave way to anger. Yang snarled and clenched her fists. "That's it? You show up out of nowhere after years of not being in my life and… and that's all you have to say!?"

The woman who had given birth to her stopped walking and looked over her shoulder contemptuously. "What else is there to say, Yang? You were pathetic, how easily you were beaten down. If you were truly my daughter… you wouldn't have been so weak that you needed mommy to come and save you."

Yang made to raise her hand, her right hand, towards Raven Branwen, to shout out that she was wrong, … but instead, all she saw was a bloody stump. As she started to scream in horror and agony, she heard the sounds of gunfire and roars. As her mother disappeared, she felt a presence behind her. She turned and saw… it.

The red beast. It gave a deformed smile with its fanged maw and raised high its crimson talons.

She wanted to fight, but she couldn't, she couldn't. She was too weak, and her stump wouldn't stop… it wouldn't stop bleeding. All she could do was fall as the claw descended-

"NO!"

As a strangled gasp burst free from her mouth, Yang shot up, now wide awake, and her heart beating a mile a minute.

While the girl from Patch did her best to get her breath under control, Yang still felt… tired. Tired and really drained, and even a bit sore. She usually felt like that, after a long cry. Tired, drained, empty, and just so…

Weak.

Her hand shook for a moment, and she did her best to ignore it.

With a yawn and a stretch, she walked out of her room and, though she knew better, she still took a look around. The house was empty and… he was gone.

Yeah… like she hadn't been expecting that to happen. It seemed they always left, in the end.

She made her way to the kitchen and cooked a few of the weird vegetables on the stove with some salt. Then ate, though she really didn't feel all that hungry. Surprisingly, serving herself wasn't that much of a chore. Just put down the plate on the counter, and then dump the vegetables on it. Dressing herself was a bit difficult, as was holding the pan to tip it onto the plate, a bit… but she could still eat just fine. Not as easily as with… two hands, but still… just fine.

The food had no real taste and seemed to sink into her stomach like lead. But at least there was water from the house's well… evidently, he had already drawn it before… before he left.

She felt her missing arm clench itself; perhaps in anger or just a simple ghost twitch. But ignored it. It wasn't there, after all.

It wasn't fucking there.

After she finished eating, Yang felt the need to move; to stretch her legs, and just not… not be here, in this empty house.

She went to the safe, took a handful of coins into her jacket pocket, and then stepped out into the morning light, squinting against it as she did so.

Remembering the map that he had left, she took a left and headed towards the main marketplace. She was getting better at keeping her balance, but it was still a bit difficult, and she still stumbled a bit. But she grit her teeth and powered through it.

Weak.

The marketplace was bustling and busy when she arrived, and her senses were soon attacked by smells, sounds, and sights; smells of food, raw, and cooking; sounds of bickering, greetings, yelling, and haggling; and the sights of the multitudes of humans, kor, merfolk, elves, and vampires all going about their days.

It reminded her a bit of Vale, honestly. Weird.

Yang slowly made her way through it, looking around at the stalls and stores and groups. Mostly, she was ignored, but then, whenever someone happened to glance her way, she would see it; the pity in their eyes. It made her want to scream… or put a fist through their eye.

Stop looking at her. Don't look at her like that!

Instead, she gritted her teeth and started asking around for anyone who could provide work. She needed to do… something, anything. But every time she asked, they just looked at her as if she were crazy, their eyes darting to the scarred-over stump, and she felt her anger continue to build.

Still, Yang kept at it; she kept asking and asking, doing her best to ignore the pitying stares, until one person finally gave her an answer. The person directed her to find some guy called Zelgrin. Apparently, he could be found in some tavern on Tazir street, someplace called the Breached Hedron. Zelgrin was one of the people to go to when you needed work, or so she was told.

Luckily, Tazi street was just over the next block. That was fine.

The interior of the tavern looked like any other, and it had a few patrons within. They all looked at her briefly as she entered; as she did her best not to stumble again. Yang met their stares with a furrowed brow, and they all quickly vanished. She then looked around, and saw one particular patron, seated at a table; lean, bearded, and with a long sword dangling from his hip, just as had been described. He was nursing a drink.

Right. Let's do this.

Without further ado, she strode over to him. "Are you the one called Zelgrin?" she asked.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Yeah. Who wants to know?" he asked.

"Me. I want to know because I'm looking for work," Yang said plainly. "I'm looking, and I was told that you can help remedy that, help me find some work, a job. Thus, here I am, talking to you, and hoping that this won't be a waste of time. So, how about we skip the chit-chat, and you just tell me what you've got?"

In response, Zelgrin looked her over, his gaze drifting to her stump, and then over… everything else. The man, who looked at least twice her age, then gave a really slimy smile and leaned forward. "I'll be honest; there's not a lot of work for a cripple girl. But, I might have a few ideas in mind, so as long as you're willing to have an open mind-"

Before he could finish that sentence, she grabbed him by his hair and then slammed his face down on the table, hard. The table promptly shattered into splinters, and she then shoved him backward to the floor. The slimy smile was soon replaced with a look of fear and wide eyes, and a whine of pain as he clutched at his now-broken nose and splinter-studded face.

Yang took a step forward, and she could feel the fires of her aura starting to burn about her person, her anger made manifest. "I was really hoping you weren't going to go there, but lo and behold, you did," she snarled.

She ignored the startlement of the other patrons, focusing entirely on the bastard before her. "Listen; I've had a very long few weeks, the shittiest weeks I've ever had to deal with. So, I was really hoping that you were going to be the first person here not to act like an asshole around me for once! And yet you did, and now, I'm even more pissed off than I was when I woke up this morning, so thank you for that. All I want is some fucking work, and some that don't require getting fucked, literally, or otherwise! Now, how about we try this little conversation again, okay? Only this time, you going to give me a better answer, or I'm going to start breaking all your bones. Yeah?"

Despite his fear, and the blood running down his face and from his shattered nose, Zelgrin glared up at her and made to reach for his sword. "You're dead, you fucking-"

Before he could draw his sword or finish his sentence, a heavy boot slammed down on his wrist with a loud crunch, eliciting from him a high-pitched whine of pain.

"I would suggest not following through on that foolish course of action, lest you truly give the lady here cause to unleash the entirety of her wroth upon you, as she so threatened," said a smooth voice.

Yang glanced up from Zelgrin to view the owner of the voice.

He was tall and muscular, with thick, red-and-black hair that was tied back into a short ponytail while also neatly hanging over the right side of his face. Meanwhile, a well-trimmed, similarly-colored beard adorned his chin. He had an easy smile on his face, his clothing looked expensive, and his eyes were a shining gree-gold. She also took note that his fingernails were painted a glossy black.

With a smile, he leaned on his pinning foot, putting more weight on Zelgrin's trapped wrist.

"Thanks," Yang said as she rolled and cracked her neck. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm just going to go and teach this asshole some fucking manners!"

The man held out a hand towards her. "Tempting as that might be to watch, perhaps it would be best if you let your temper soothe itself for the moment," he said. "I think poor Zelgrin's learned his lesson. Wouldn't you say, Zelgrin old friend? Have you learned your lesson?"

With the man's boot still on his wrist, all Zelgrin could do was rapidly nod.

"Use your words."

Crunch.

"AGGH! Yes, yes, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Yang growled. "As nice as that was to here…You really want to stop this guy from getting what's coming to him?" she asked.

The man shook his head. "Of course not. He deserves it and more, the slime." He punctuated this by leaning just a bit more, thus eliciting another pained grunt and squeal. "Rather, the only reason I'm stopping you from doing so is that, by the looks of you, one hit and he won't be getting back up. At all. Especially when one factors in what you did to the table. Now, while this thing's demise would surely be no great loss to Sea Gate, I am equally certain that the local constabulary would have something to say about that nonetheless, yes?"

Yang looked around the room, at the faces of the other patrons; the concern on their faces.

… At the very least, there was no pity. But the man had a point, she supposed.

She sighed and felt her aura cool down. "Fine."

As the man lifted his foot off of Zelgrin's wrist, Yang gave a light kick to Zelgrin's ribs, one that, never-the-less, left him gasping for air. "Fuck off," she said.

Fear plastered on his face, the slime scrambled to his feet, and limped/ dashed out of the tavern. To her disgust, it looked like he left a small puddle behind.

The man chuckled at the display. "Now that was a most wonderful little show, strong lady. Such strength. Why it can do no less but leave a man in awe."

He then gestured to the bar. "How about I buy you a drink?"

On the one hand, Yang wasn't always one to accept a drink from a stranger, but, as she had told Zelgrin… it had been a long few weeks. Besides, he wasn't here, and he had lost all ground on telling her what to do after leaving her here. Also, the guy could see that she was strong. Not weak. That… was the nicest thing she had heard since ending up here.

Fuck it. She plastered a grin on her face. "Sure. I'm feeling a little thirsty."

The man smiled; a thing full of pearly-white ivory, and then gestured to the woman manning the bar. "A most excellent thing to hear. Gora, two of your finest, please. And don't worry about the table, I'll pay for the damages. I insist."

As she and the man each took a seat, Yang looked at him squarely. "So, don't think that I'm not… grateful for the assistance and all but… who the fuck are you?"

As Gora served them each a full wooden mug of ale, the man splayed a hand against his chest. "Me? Oh, I'm nothing really, in the grand scheme of it all. Really, I'm just a stranger. Not originally from around this neck of the woods, you see, though I've been here long enough to know my way around. Though, I think we have that in common, you and I."

"How do you figure?"

He shrugged. "Call it a hunch, if you would. I do happen to have an eye for these sorts of things. Oh, but worry not, I'm not going pry. Bit of a bad habit that I'm trying to break, so I figured I would start with you.

"Gee, I'm touched."

"As you should be. Though, as pertaining to the earlier subject; I personally find myself to be more of king among strangers than anything else if you would forgive my brief pomposity on the subject. That is an ineffable fact about me if I do say so myself."

Yang raised an eyebrow at his verbosity as she took a sip from her ale. "A 'stranger king' huh? Do you have an actual name, then, or just a title?"

He smiled. "You could say that, I suppose. Though, I must confess; I just don't know how comfortable I feel, telling a complete stranger my name without knowing hers first."

Yang rolled her eyes. "Real charmer you are. Alright, if it will quell your trembling nerves, fine. The name's Yang."

She didn't mention her last name. At the moment, she didn't want to be associated with him.

Pointedly, the man did not extend a hand. That was fine. Instead, he gave her a nod. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, good Yang. And now it is my turn. As for me? Well, you can call me… Xen. Xen Nevar."

She raised an eyebrow. "Xen Nevar, huh? Kind of a weird name. Is 'Xen' short for something?"

He smirked. "As a matter of fact, I do believe that it is. But, you think mine is a strange name? If you don't mind me vocalizing it, then I do believe that I could say the same about yours, Yang. Definitely not one that I've heard around these parts before."

He… kind of had a point, so she let it slide.

They each took a sip from their drinks. It was a little awkward, drinking with her left hand, but it was manageable. Plus it tasted good. As they drank, 'Nevar' studied her all the while with his green-gold eyes.

"What?" she asked.

Was he just another creep?

He flashed her another grin. "My humblest apologies for staring but…You seem like a person who's practically on the verge of exploding," he said. "You need a release some of that tension, and I just happen to have an idea in that regard; one that should, I think, help you to make a good bit of coin as well."

The moment he finished his sentence, Yang squeezed her cup so hard it shattered, and she could feel the heat start to build up again. "Like I just told that Zelgrin asshole, I'm not a fucking hooker," she snarled.

Xen raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I was insinuating nothing of the sort, good lady. I swear it on the stones beneath our feet. Instead, what I was referring to was something more… blood-pumping. Visceral. Primal, you might say. Something more able to suit your apparent interests. After all, you do look as if you enjoy a good bit of fisticuffs."

He reached into a pouch and withdrew from it a slip of paper that he slid in front of her. "Still, if you want to find some day work, I would suggest the rock quarry. They're always on the lookout for strong people like yourself. Then, afterward, if you still have some anger burning in your veins… head to the second address. What you find there may be of some help. Think about it, at least? It can't hurt."

Yang stared down at the paper while he set some coins on the bar and then left with a wave of his hand and a smile. She clenched her left hand tightly.

On the one hand… he was a complete stranger. When could they ever be trusted? But, on the other… he had not once looked at her with pity. Hell, he had barely even glanced at her stump at all, unlike everyone else in this city thus far. That… right now, that counted for something.

She finished off her ale, wiped her mouth, and then snatched up the paper and headed out.

As she did, she passed a small gaggle of kor and human children. They were playing the kind of game that involved a rhyme. And, it was kind of a weird one at that.

"Raven, Raven, perched in the tree.

Raven, Raven, what do you see?"

"I see people falling from the sky.

I see people, waiting to die."

"Raven, Raven, perched in the tree.

Raven, Raven, can you see me?"

Eh, whatever. Ignoring the kids, Yang headed off to the rock quarry…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Qrow

Innistrad

They traveled for roughly two days across the countryside, always making sure to keep torches lit.

The refugees still seemed a little shellshocked through it all, and Qrow did his best along with the others to help them feel safe.

Man, walking corpses. What the absolute fuck was up with this place?

Of course, he didn't vocalize that sentiment out loud. No need to have the… locals look at him as some sort of loony, seeing as how they appeared rather used to the dead getting back up.

Dust, but he needed a freaking drink. Unfortunately, his flask was empty again. That really sucked.

Though, speaking of the locals…

They reminded him more of some of his fellow huntsman; grizzled, a bit weary, and every ready to fight off whatever came their way.

Then, there was the woman named Thalia, the group's leader.

He had only known her for two days, and already? She seemed pretty swell. At the very least, she seemed like the type of person who wouldn't grate on his nerves.

In a way, she kind of reminded him of Summer; the way she commanded everyone, the presence she emanated… how kind she was towards anyone she talked to…. Every night, she ate and dined with her fellow soldiers, or rather, "cathars," as they were apparently called here. Then, she made sure that each of the refugees had been adequately fed. She never seemed to hold herself apart from them or those who served under her, like he had seen a lot of 'leaders' do in the past. She even made sure that Qrow felt welcomed among them, lauding him as the man who had saved their asses (not exactly what she said, but that was beside the point).

Though, that also showed that she was a lot more open than he remembered his team leader ever being.

And it was not just her, Thalis, who was being kind to him, but everyone else, soldiers and refugees alike. They had all given him their sincere thanks. Some of the refugees had actually wept when they did so.

He… he wasn't used to that at all.

A part of him wondered if they would be so nice to him if they knew of his curse…

…

…

Yeah, he really needed a drink.

He should have already cut and left them by now. He really should have. But… he didn't. Two days later, and he was still with the group. Hell, he had even learned most of their names.

What was wrong with him?

"Qrow."

Her voice cut through his ruminations kindly. He looked up from the portion of his horses' neck (he was actually riding a freaking horse) that he had been staring at, and caught her eye. She was smiling at him, and then she pointed ahead. "We've arrived, everyone," she said.

He followed her pointing and saw an interesting sight; a city, perched at the tip of a cliff, overlooking the sea.

"Thraben."

Behind them, Qrow could hear the refugees all begin to clamor and murmur with excitement as if the mere mention of the city's name was enough to lift their spirits. It probably was, all things considered.

Thraben was unlike most cities that Qrow had ever seen, and, at the same time, it resembled most of the cities that he had seen… despite the fact that he had only really seen at least 4 cities. Five tops, if you included Vacuo.

The first thing he noted was its location; the place was located in the middle of a huge island in the middle of an enormous body of water. He only realized that it was a lake when he didn't smell any salt in the air. That was something new for him. Qrow reckoned that he had never even seen a lake that big before.

The next thing he noted was its sheer ring of walls. That… that was a bit more familiar. Every city back in Remnant that wanted to last more than a day had walls, and doubly so if there was more than one ring of them. Or it just… floated, like Atlas.

Still, to Qrow's discerning eye, it looked as if the outer walls had been repaired several times at least. He could even see some going on as they drew closer. That was also familiar.

As they approached and rode through each of the gates, he did take notes of the armored guards, all of whom held the same holy symbol, the Symbol of Avacyn, whoever that was, emblazoned proudly on their arms and armor. He also took note that one of the walls looked like it was covered in names. That was… kind of weird.

Qrow then had to blink twice when he saw the winged, armored women flying overhead.

What the actual fuck?

Beyond the gates, the interior of the city proper looked a lot like a larger version of the town he had stayed at; cobblestone roads, wood and stone houses, a shit-load of flickering streetlights, some wells, more walls… and a lot of churches, including a huge cathedral in the eastern portion of the city. And, again, there was no electricity or dust in sight.

Still, if judging from the stench alone… at least there was some sort of plumbing. Or, at least, he hoped there was. But if there wasn't… eh, whatever. He'd been in worse situations.

The first thing done was escorting the civilians to a nearby block of homes. More of a large estate really, managed by one of the winged women, a towering lady with brown hair, and clad in robes of white. The tips of her wings brushed against the ground.

Qrow really did his best not to stare. Scout's honor.

Then, after following Thalia and the rest of the cathars to some governmental/ military/ religious-looking building where they gave a report, they all then headed to a nearby tavern.

Qrow followed them as far as going through the front door and then headed straight to the bar. At least, he tried to, but instead, the group somehow managed to corral him to sit with them at a few tables. Drinks were ordered and solemn toasts were made. Among a clinking of glasses, they all remembered those who had fallen.

Qrow just drank, lifting his glass when everyone else did. It was good liquor though.

Eventually, he managed to pull himself away, and head to the bar. It… it was just a little

A moment later, Thalia walked up and sat next to him. "I saw you excuse yourself," she said. "Didn't feel like staying with the others?"

Qrow nodded as the tavern keeper slid him a freshly-filled pint. "Wasn't trying to be rude. Just… needed a moment, you know?"

She nodded. "I can understand that."

She took a sip of her drink. "What will you do now?"

Qrow shrugged. "Not really sure. Might stick around for a few days, and then head on out. Haven't… haven't really thought that far ahead yet."

Then again… when did he ever?

"Alright… then what if you stayed here longer than a few days?" she asked.

He shot her a look of confusion at that statement. "What are you talking about?"

Thalia responded by looking at him with an earnestness that gave him a bit of an uncomfortable deja-vu. "You say you are thinking on leaving, yes? Why? You don't really seem like you have any destination in mind, and this is one of the only few safe havens for anyone here in Innistrad. I doubt that you have a death wish. But beyond that, you saved us back in that village, Qrow Branwen. Me, and my fellow cathars. You saved us from a most grisly fate. More than that, you helped save those refugees. Those men, women, and children will be able to wake up tomorrow safer here than they were three days ago, and that's thanks to you. The same goes for me and everyone else that you saved. Your actions… it gave those people hope, and that is something desperately needed in this time. That's why I think you should stay here. Join the cathars. Become one of us."

That caught him off guard, so much so that he almost choked on his drink. After a good minute or two which consisted of her pounding him on the back while he tried not to choke, Qrow regained his bearing. "Join you? You want me to join you guys?"

Thalia nodded. "I do. I really do. You are a very talented warrior; that much was evident in how you fought, the way you moved on the battlefield. Those are skills that we can use; use to protect the defenseless and the innocent from the horrors that stalk the night and day. You can fight for them, for the people. You can make a difference. You can help bring hope. Wouldn't that be better than just… wandering with no destination in mind? Wandering without a purpose, or a plan?"

Qrow felt rendered speechless.

She took another sip from her drink, and then rose gracefully, leaving a few coins on the table as she did so. "At least… mull it over some? It's your decision in the end, though. No one else."

She then turned and walked back to her men.

He watched her go, and shifted his gaze back to his drink, looking at his reflection in its amber surface. A familiar thing looked back at him. It always did; the face of a cursed bastard.

A part of him wanted to refuse, so very desperately. It would be easy, no words required; Just finish his drink, don't say a word, and then leave the next morning, like he always did. He had that down to a science, after all. Besides… he wasn't from here, after all, and it's not like he had ever really been one for religion. He doubted some high power would have been so cruel as to saddle him with his curse, after all… or maybe it still would have. According to Ozpin, all religions held innate cruelty in them. Besides, he knew what would happen if he stuck around them too long. The same thing that always happened.

Ill fortune, death, and misery. Then, when they found out he was to blame, how it all started the moment he came to town?

And what could he really do to help these people? Cut down a few walking corpses? All he could ever do was stick the shadows and then leave. That was it.

But…at the same time, he just couldn't get it out of his head… the two vampire-things, as they attacked those townsfolk; of the shambling horde that had been slowly slaughtering Thalia's men… and of the people he had just helped saved, thanking him, over and over and over again.

Qrow had never liked seeing innocent people getting hurt, getting preyed upon. That had been a big reason why he had absolutely hated the Branwen Tribe, and pretty much everyone in it.

More to the point, he looked around, and though it reminded him a lot of how it was… back home, this place? This 'Inistrad?' It also felt different. The people here, at least the people in this city… had hope. They had hope, whenever they looked towards their churches, towards those winged women flying overhead.

Even in places like Atlas, there never seemed to be all that much hope. Grimm could fly, after all.

But there was hope here, in a place filled with vampires and undead creatures and who knew what else? How did this place feel so similar, and yet so different, from Remnant?

Hope. Man… it was such a weird thing. A weird and bizarre thing.

"You're not cursed, Qrow. Never think that," the girl in the white cloak said with a small grin.

He blinked at the memory and shook his head in wonder.

Qrow then finished the rest of his drink in a single pull, and shot to his feet, and headed to Thalia's table. He walked up to it and sat down across from her.

She turned and looked at him, curiosity dancing in her blue-grey eyes. As a response, he gave her a lopsided smile. "Well, I 'mulled it over,' as you asked. Know what? I think I'm convinced. I'll stick around for a while. One genuine hope-bringer, at your service. Now, where do I sign up?"

In response, she gave him a beaming grin.

Ccccccccccccc

Cinder

It was a slow day at the Glass Unicorn. That was not unexpected. Every popular establishment suffered them, from time to time, or so she had overheard the Madame grouse while nursing a glass of wine.

Ordinarily, slow days were seen as decently good things for a hotel's staff. Fewer guests to cater to, fewer rooms and dirty dishes to clean, fewer meals to prepare. fewer, fewer, and fewer, which in turn lead to more time to sit back, take stock, and breathe.

Cinder always dreaded the slow days, when the hotel was nearly empty. On slow days, the Madame and her daughters would get bored.

She didn't like it when they got bored.

But that was only if they noticed her. All she had to do was stay quiet and out of the way. Be as a mouse, small and silent. Do what she was told, do all her chores… even if it was a slow day.

It was already late afternoon. Her stomach was growling, but she had long ago learned to ignore that. It helped if you pretended that it was something else.

She swept the floors, focusing on the dust as she directed it into the dustpan. At times, she envied the dust. Sure, it got put into trash bags, and thrown into the back of trucks… but it still got to leave, right?

"Cinder!"

Oh no.

Wordlessly, Cinder stood, gathered up her broom and dustpan, and headed down the stairs.

The Madame stood in the lobby, before one of the grimm statues; this one of a beowolf about to lunge upon its prey. Cinder watched silently as she wiped a hand across its base, and then examined it.

"There is dust on this statue," the Madame said.

Cinder knew for a fact that the statue was clean. It had been the first thing that she had dusted and cleaned this morning. It always was.

But Cinder had quickly learned better than to protest. So, she kept her eyes downcast and said nothing. Never look Madame in the eye, and never argue.

Just do as you're told. Just-

Click.

As thousands of volts blasted their way through her nerves, Cinder dropped to her knees and screamed and cried as she spasmed and flailed about.

Then, the pain stopped, and Cinder was left kneeling on the floor.

"I am ashamed, Cinder," the Madame said, while Cinder panted and gasped. "Ashamed that my kindness and charity have been met with such… disrespect."

Click.

"Agggggggh!"

"Such… ungrateful arrogance."

Click.

"Have I not fed you? Clothed your miserable self? Have I not provided you with shelter from the wind and the cold? Have I not given you a purpose in life?"

Cinder could barely hear her over the sound of her own screams.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

By the time The Madame had stopped pressing the button, Cinder was curled up on the floor; her limbs and body twitching and spasming. She could barely breathe but in pained gasps, and tears ran down her cheeks.

"I think that this lesson in gratitude has been aptly understood. Would you not agree, my dear ones?"

"Oh, yes mother," Portia said with a grin, as she twirled her ringlets with a painted nail.

"I don't know," argued Joy, a thoughtful expression on her stoic face. "Maybe we should take her down to the cellar for a session? Really make the lesson stick?"

No. no, no, no, no, no, no. Not the cellar. Not the cellar. Anything but the cellar, with the manacles and chains!

The madame stroked her chin and then shook her head. "Tempting as that might be… I think the lesson has been learned. Wouldn't you say, Cinder?"

Cinder had regained enough breath to speak. "Y…yes, Madame."

"Good. Now; say it."

Cinder coughed. "W-without you… I am nothing."

Her arm felt odd… like it wasn't even there.

The Madame nodded, and then she and her daughters walked away, the sisters giggling as they departed.

Cinder knew she could not afford to lie there for too long. She… she had to get back to work. But what was wrong with her arm? The shocks had never caused such a feeling before?

She wanted to kill them. More desperately than anything else, she wanted to watch them suffer and beg for mercy… right before she snuffed out the light in their eyes.

So why couldn't she move her arm?

Then, there was nothing but silver and Cinder-

-Screamed.

Her eyes shot open, and Cinder let loose a strangled gasp. She then shut her eyes again against the light that shot into her pupils. Too bright, too bright! She couldn't move!

Taking a few deep breaths, Cinder breathed slowly, as Rhodes and the queen had taught her; she breathed and slowed her heartbeat. Calm. She had to remain calm.

Slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes, so as to adjust to the light, and blinked a few times to clear her vision of blurriness. Then, she took stock of where she was, just as she had been taught.

She found herself looking… at a ceiling. A very plain, unadorned ceiling. A moment later, she then discovered that she was lying on her back… on some manner of table. She craned her head to the left and saw a large wooden table covered in what seemed to be surgical tools and… other things that she had never seen before. There was also strange machinery, and the room itself seemed to be lit by lamps set into the walls.

With a groan, she slowly turned her head to the right… and saw a wooden door.

Where was she? How… how had she gotten here?

Something didn't feel right. Almost instinctively, she reached out with her senses, to try and connect with Salem-

What?

The connection! That which tied her to the Queen of Grimm. Cinder couldn't feel it anymore. It was gone! How was that even possible!?

Her head vibrated with waves of pain, pulsating like a soundwave on a monitor. In addition, her arm, her left arm, felt… strange. Different.

She looked to her left again and saw that there seemed to be a sink of some sort. Her throat then felt as dry as sand.

Water. She needed water.

With a woozy groan, she staggered to her feet, and slowly made her way towards the sink.

She almost collapsed against it, only managing to steady herself by reaching out with her left… her left…

Her thirst was then promptly forgotten as she stared down in horror at her left hand and arm as if she were caught in a nightmare that she had yet to wake up from. Her breath began to quicken again as she stared at what lay before her.

Instead of flesh and blood, all she saw of her limb was strange, filigreed… metal. Dark and grey, wrought in the shape of a five-fingered hand. Her fingers, now longer, ended in sharp talons, and through the fillagree, she saw a red-orange and black glow, like that of her semblance, shining within her forearm and through the joints and rivets. It didn't feel any heavier than her… previous one, and the fingers and arm flexed and bent and twisted as well as their flesh and blood counterparts.

She then looked up into the mirror, and saw…

The right side of her face was unblemished. Pristine and beautiful. But the left… the left side of her head had been shaved, leaving her with an undercut, and over the visible scarred flesh and tissue was more of the same strange, filigreed metal. Her left ear was gone, and her left eye was now a solid red-orange as well. With a shaking hand, she felt along the rest of her head, and down her neck.

Not just her arm, but her shoulder… and all the way down past her chest her upper ribs. It had all been replaced. She looked back into the mirror, and saw… upon her forehead, over her brow were a pair of tattoos, wrought in the shape of curved horns.

Slowly, Cinder turned her gaze towards the table, and she took note of the dried blood on several of the saws and scalpels and instruments.

What… what had done this to her? How had this happened? Who had turned her into this!?

Ruby Rose cried out, and all she saw was silver, and all she felt was a burning in her chest and an overwhelming pain…

Her. That insufferable little bitch! It was her. That little creature was responsible for Cinder's new… deformities. She would pay, she would pay!

But first, she… she had to get out of here. She had to find out where she was, make her way back to Salem. She had failed, perhaps, but she still had the powers of the Fall Maiden. She could feel them, singing through her veins. The Queen would take her back…

She made her way to the door, her strength returning with every step she took. With every step, she felt less weak, and more enraged.

Silver filled her vision, as Ruby Rose screamed.

Click.

As a fresh swell of rage suffused her being, Cinder raised her new hand high and unleashed a torrent of flame that blew the door straight off of its hinges… and through the adjacent wall that it had been facing. The magic felt good, clean, pure, and utterly intoxicating.

Channeling another burst of fire beneath her feet, Cinder rose from the ground and sped forward through the flames and the new opening she had created, and found herself emerging onto a large, open courtyard. There were multiple towers all around, and in the distance, she saw a large, silvery pool of water, stretching far beyond her line of sight.

Where… what was this place?

Her instincts then roared, and a falchion manifested into her hand as she rose to block the red blade that had been descending towards her. The weapons kissed and clashed and parted amidst a shower of sparks.

Clang, clang, clang!

Raven could not find an opening, and swiftly found herself on the defensive.

Clang, clang, clang, crunch, krssh!

After a short exchange, both blades then shattered in a shower of metal shards and glass fragments, and Cinder dashed backward to take and gain a measure of her new opponent. They were a tall woman, clothed in armored leathers of red and black that left not a hint of skin showing, save for the tips of her fingers. She was lean and muscular, noticeable even beneath her armor. A strange mechanical sheath dangled at her waist, with what looked like a rotary chamber integrated into its main body. The woman's face was kept fully hidden by a large white mask shaped vaguely like that of a Nevermore grimm's, only with four eyes instead of two. Finally, a large, spikey, and wild mane of black hair hung down her back.

Cinder growled. "Where am I?" she said, her voice slightly raspy. "Were you the one who did this to me!?" she demanded, as she held up her metal arm, and then gestured to her face with a taloned finger.

The masked woman said nothing and simply laid a hand upon the handle of her sword.

Cinder felt her rage build even more. "Are you some sort of fucking mute!? Answer me, now, or I'll burn you and this entire place to ash!"

She received no answer. Instead, all that she did receive was the woman sheathing her broken blade, before then settling into a stance.

Oh, so that was how it would be.

Fine.

With a scream of rage, Cinder barreled forward, this time with a dagger blazing to life in her right hand. The masked woman drew her red blade once more and met Cinder's advance, a sonic boom discharging from her feet.

Their blades kissed and parted half a dozen more times in the span of a second, all accompanied by a cacophony of steel against hardened glass and obsidian.

Clang, clang, clang!

Whoever this woman was, she had a good deal of skill. But Cinder had more than just that.

She feinted with the dagger, and then swept her left hand under and let loose a blast of fire straight towards the masked woman's mute head-

To Cinder shock, a block of ice materialized in front of the woman, canceling out her blast of flame. As a hot mist settled in the aftermath of the collision, Cinder was caught off guard when the woman shot through it and slammed a kick into her head, sending her tumbling backward. Were it not for her aura, Cinder was certain that the kick would have reduced her head to a paste.

As Cinder dizzily slid to her feet and tried to regain her bearings, it was all she could do to parry and push each of the masked woman's cuts and slashes. Every last one made her take a step back.

Clang, clang, clang, clang!

The masked woman parried Cinder's dagger off to the side, and then the red blade arced towards Cinder's throat. Cinder stumbled and tried to bring her dagger back between her and the blade and-

Cinder blinked and the blade was already resting at her throat, pushing and cutting through Cinder's aura as if it were made of paper. All the masked woman had to do was twitch, and Cinder's throat would be sliced open.

How? How had the woman moved so fast?

Cinder's eyes blazed, and she let loose a growl of pure rage. NO! No, she would not die here, not yet, not yet. Even as the blade rested at her throat, her free hand blazed with the Fall Maiden's magic, eager to burn and defend and destroy and consume all that was in her path.

The masked woman tilted her head at Cinder's defiance, and her grip tightened with a creak of leather and-

There then came a Voice that echoed and boomed from behind them.

"Enough," it said

Though that single word was not shouted, it reverberated through Cinder's bones. Every single syllable thrummed with authority and dominance.

"This demonstration is over."

Slowly, the masked woman lifted her blade from Cinder's throat, whilst Cinder let her own dagger dissipate into ash and embers and glass. The masked woman slid her weapon back into its scabbard, then turned and promptly dropped to one knee, bowing her head in utter deference.

Cinder knew. She Knew that something powerful was looming her, though powerful seemed too little a word to describe the sensation that she was experiencing. But she couldn't turn around. A part of her didn't want to, didn't want to face what was behind her. Instead, she remained frozen, frozen as her breathing sped up.

"Turn around," the voice said- no, commanded.

As if she were caught in thick molasses, Cinder turned around, almost as if someone else were piloting her body. She turned around and looked up… and up, and her breath caught in her throat.

The creature... was a dragon, like something out of the old fables, out of the old histories of Remnant. It was a dragon and it was massive; larger than the wyvern that had been sleeping within Mount Glenn, perhaps as large as the mountain itself. This dragon, it looked as if it could go on for miles, from tail to horn tip. It was lean and lithe, with two large curved horns like a crown arcing from its skull, and it stood on its hind legs, balancing on its tail.

The dragon's face was a strange and unsettlingly seamless mixture of reptilian and human, and its expression was one that bled pure disdain. Its scales shone brighter than burnished gold, like the gold that sheathed its horns, and it wore several articles of armor about its form. Two massive, partially-folded wings sprouted from its back, enveloping the whole area in shade and shadow. A strange, oval gem hovered freely between the creature's horns, like the main jewel inset into the front of a crown.

It was like nothing she had ever seen before, more terrible and majestic than any of the elder grimm that lay under the control of Salem.

But more than that, more than its physical majesty… Cinder thought that she had known power when the Fall Maiden's magic had been bonded to her as Beacon fell. She thought she had seen power, when she had first knelt before Salem, back on the day that she had joined the Queen of Grimm's cause. That had been the moment when Salem had reduced a mountain to ash with a burst of magic and had demonstrated her immortality.

But this being, this dragon… it exuded Power. It embodied Strength. It radiated Authority and Dominance, and in a way that felt more Ancient than even the Queen of Grimm.

She was unable to move. She couldn't move. She didn't dare move. She felt the urge to fall to her knees. Cinder didn't know how she was even still standing. Why was she still standing? Why couldn't she move?

She felt like a child again at the Glass Unicorn, before she had freed herself; helpless, powerless, weak. Unable to do anything at all, but cower.

The scar at her neck began to throb again.

The dragon peered down at her with a strange and majestic disdain, one that was tinged with a slight interest. Everything was silent as if the world itself was too afraid to draw the being's ire and attention. Then, it spoke, in a decidedly masculine voice, thrumming with an ancient mien. "Greetings, Cinder Fall. It would seem that your new arm and eye are working. Tezzeret is a fool, but he does good work when pressed."

Her eyes widened at the creature's knowledge of her name, and the dragon smiled a fanged leer. Even from this distance, she could see that several of his fangs were longer than she was tall. "Yes, I know who you are. I also know of the plane you come from… and of the thing that you have been serving under for the past decade."

The dragon shrugged. "It would not be any sort of exaggeration to say that I know everything about you, Cinder Fall. However, I am just a bit perplexed as to why you would allow yourself to serve under that thing's heel. What could it have possibly offered you, in exchange for your fealty, sporadic as it has been? Indulge my curiosity."

It sounded innocuous. But it seemed less an honest and innocuous question and more of a command. Cinder could feel her mouth moving as if trying to form the words. But nothing issued forth.

The dragon sneered in amusement at her distress. "That means you can speak now; just in case it wasn't all that clear to your tiny little brain."

Cinder swallowed and found her voice now returned. She wanted to lie, but instinctively? She knew that such a course of action would only culminate in her death. So, she opted for the truth, as best as she could spit it out, anyway, given the current circumstances. "She… Salem told me that we would make a new world, built upon the ashes of the wretched one that Ozpin sought to keep afloat. One where only the strong could thrive. Where I could rule and thrive; where I could be powerful, feared, and respected. She promised me this, through the powers of the Four Maidens."

It was odd but, even as she said it all, she felt… smaller, and unsure, after verbalizing it, almost as if it had been someone else vocalizing what she wanted, and as if it wasn't as grand as she had always thought.

The dragon quirked a scaly, ridged eyebrow at Cinder's answer. "That's it?" the dragon asked, disbelief clear in its tone.

A moment later, the dragon's shoulders began to shake… in laughter. The dragon was laughing, and it was such a sound that Cinder wanted to shut her eyes and curl into a fetal ball and cover her ears, and rock back and forth. The laughter was just… wrong, full and thrumming with a pure, undiluted, and ancient power and malice, and it rocked every corner of the area. Even the silvery sea lashed and rippled with every burst of laughter that sounded from the dragon's lips.

As the dragon laughed, he reared back his head and set a claw over his eyes, as if to wipe away tears.

"Hahahahahahahahahaha! That's it? Is that really all that thing had promised you, Cinder? A new world and the powers wrung and wrought from the dregs of an old fool's depleted soul and magic? That was the entirety of your desired price? The breadth and depth of your ambitions? Truly, I find it simply astounding. As ever, it has never ceased to astonish me; just how nearsighted and pathetic you humans can be when given the opportunity."

Despite her overwhelming fear, Cinder felt… angry, at being laughed at. It reminded her too much of the madame's daughters… back when she had been weak, pitiful, nothing. Her hands, metal, and flesh, clenched into tight and shaking fists.

After a moment the laughter subsided, though the dragon's sneering and fanged grin still remained upon his face. "That miserable wretch in the towers has been lying to you since the moment you bowed your head before its feet, Cinder Fall. All it has ever spoken have been lies."

The dragon leaned in with a peering gaze, as if to share a secret… or as if it were a scientist, studying a somewhat uninteresting specimen under a microscope. "Honestly… Did it never once strike you as odd how, for all its 'power,' it had not already made an attempt to conquer the world, over the past 10,000 years? Instead, the only thing it has really done is sulk in its little stronghold, all the while relying on short-sighted, easily-manipulated idiots like you to enact its 'will.'"

The dragon shook his head as if he were a disappointed parent scolding a child on an error that it had made. "The thing called Salem, it has no desire to create any sort of new world, Cinder Fall. That, or anything else. All it wants, all it has ever wanted, is the release of death… and thus, the death of your entire plane. Anything that it promised you, or the other fools serving under it, has all been nothing less than an absolute lie."

Fire gathered in her shaking fists and eyes, whilst the scar at her throat began to pulse and throb as it sometimes did when her anger overtook her. "No! You're lying!" Cinder cried out, as her power blazed to life, causing fire and ice and lightning to swirl and orbit all around her. "She promised me a new world, where I could be feared, and powerful and respected! She gave me everything! I'm nothing without her! She promised me! She promised me, and the others! Stop trying to deceive me! You can't sway me from her side, you lying-"

"Shut up."

He still didn't shout, but those two simple words… their utterance shot a lance of cold straight through her soul, and her fire, literal and metaphorical, were instantly snuffed out.

The dragon, now no longer smiling, narrowed his eyes and furrowed his scaly brow in disdain as it leaned in closer to her, regarding her as one would an ant that they were considering smashing beneath their thumb. Unlike Salem, he made no physical showing of his power… but there was no need. His physical presence alone, and the heat from his scales….

Her rage and defiance forgotten, Cinder dropped to her knees in abject fear, her arms shakingly raised, as if in prayer that the dragon would not smite her down for her impertinence.

It was too much. It was too much. It was too much.

"I am Nicol Bolas," the dragon stated plainly, "and I. Never. Lie. Insinuate such a thing again, and I will devour you."

It was a wonder that Cinder did not vacate herself in the sheer terror that clenched her entire being at that moment, as she came to a sobering conclusion; here was an… existence that could end her, and such an action would be without any thought or effort behind it. Merely an afterthought, in fact.

There was no corona of energy, swirling to life around his form. He summoned no thunderstorms or comets or destroyed any mountains with a wave of his taloned hand like Salem had done at her and Cinder's first meeting. He did nothing but just look at her, with eyes larger than her torso, and frowned at her with a mouth great enough to swallow her whole like a bread crumb. He made no show of force, but the dragon still, at that moment, seemed to radiate a terrible and dread light and power, enough to bring whole worlds to their knees. Cinder wanted so desperately to avert her gaze from that terrible majesty, but she could not look away. She couldn't.

He made no show of force… but that was only because he didn't need to. There was no reason for him to do so.

She was so insignificant to him that she was not worth the effort or the bother of displaying his power.

That realization was so overwhelming in and of itself that she found herself unable to breathe as if a vice had settled over her throat. She felt as if she would drown, her lungs filled with pure terror. She felt so, so small. So weak.

For a heartbeat that seemed to stretch into an eternity, everything seemed to teeter on the brink of annihilation and death.

Then, Nicol Bolas smiled once more, and the aura of terror and power slowly dissipated to a small extent. As he bared his fangs in another grin, the air grew light again, and Cinder let loose a breath. She felt as if she were about to puke. Then, she did, and it was mixed with saliva and blood.

Nicol Bolas chuckled as he watched her emptying the contents of her stomach into a puddle on the ground. He continued to chuckle as she wiped at her mouth with her right arm, and then as she slowly stood and attempted to regain the minute shreds that remained of her composure and dignity.

The dragon spoke again once she was on her feet. "Of course, I do find your momentary defiance almost amusing, as well as the frustrated ambition that I can smell bleeding from every last pore on your mammal body."

He leaned down and loomed over her, almost drowning Cinder, the masked woman, and the entire courtyard in his shadow. She could feel the heat, radiating off his scales, like a furnace.

"Salem has never once deserved the loyalty of anything or anyone, Cinder Fall. All it has ever truly earned is scorn, derision, and mockery. So, I did you a great favor when I severed its connection from your body and your soul. You are free from it, completely."

Cinder said nothing, still too terrified to even speak to move.

The dragon narrowed his eyes, and then let loose a small sigh of… disappointment?

"I have done this thing, for you… and yet, I still cannot help but detect a hint of recalcitrance on your part, Cinder fall. Still, you hold some unshakable loyalty to that wretched thing, and still, a small part of you doubts my honesty. I suppose that could be called admirable, in some circumstances…"

On either side of her, the dragon's massive claws slowly clenched shut, digging deep grooves into the ground. "I, on the other hand, find it to be utterly irritating."

He then nodded, as if coming to some grand idea. "So, in the face of such… blind, ignorant, fearful, and stupid loyalty, I am going to give a most precious thing, Cinder Fall; something with which you, undoubtedly, have had very little experience with, over the course of your insignificant blink of a life. Would you like to know what that precious thing is, Cinder Fall?"

Cinder… found herself nodding, too fearful to do much of anything else, and too fearful to even contemplate anything else.

"What I am going to give you… is the truth. Unvarnished, undiluted, and unblemished."

He raised one of his massive claws and into it… floated a small glowing lamp. The large, hollow jewel that made up its center glowed blue and black and red, pulsating as if it were a living, beating heart.

The entire thing looked like a small bead compared to the palm of his hand.

Nicol Bolas looked at it, and then uttered a single word. No, it was less a word and more of a command.

"Jinn."

As he spoke that single word, time and the world around them seemed to… pause, for lack of a better term, as if frozen in a single moment. Even the breeze itself felt as if it were stuck in the space that floated between seconds. The lantern then began to emanate and discharge a glowing, smokey essence from within its care, which then coalesced into a vaguely humanoid shape. Soon, that shape solidified and detailed itself into a figure with glowing blue skin.

The tall blue creature was most decidedly female in appearance; she had large, pitch-black-and-blue eyes, long eyelashes, pointed ears, long black hair that reached the area where the spine met the hips and the buttocks, and a rather shapely figure altogether. The being was nude as well; her only adornments were a golden collar around her neck, and manacles latch tight upon her wrists and ankles, all of which were bound tightly together with a single glowing chain, and thus forcing her to adopt a slightly hunched and curled posture. A pair of ephemeral red-and-blue horns styled the same as the dragon's floated by the figure's forehead, almost like a brand upon her very essence.

On the surface, the creature, the spirit, seemed to radiate ageless majesty and wisdom and even beauty. But the expression on her face… that was a face that Cinder was all too familiar with, having seen it too many times in the mirror when she had still languished as a prisoner and a slave at the Glass Unicorn; broken, defeated, vacant. Dominated. Indeed, almost dead to the world.

The floating figure turned to the dragon. "What is your bidding, Lord Bolas?" she asked, in an empty and subservient voice that nevertheless echoed with power.

Nicol Bolas smiled cruelly at her reverence, and then looked back down towards Cinder. "I want you to show little Cinder Fall here the Truth of her world, Jinn. Show her what it is that Salem has really been working towards, for the past ten millennia. Let her understand the truth behind the princess in the tower."

The Spirit of Knowledge bowed deeply amidst a rattle of her glowing golden chains, her expression still empty, while her motion practically oozed subservience. "Yes, Lord Bolas."

With another rattle, the being called Jinn raised a hand, and with a listless gesture… Cinder watched as all the world suddenly seemed to fade away into a colorless void. Then, she heard the being's voice, as a valley began to materialize from the void, alongside a large and looming tower.

"Once upon a time, there stood a lonely tower, and its only occupant was a young woman named Salem…"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Oh yeah. HE's involved. And I think you can guess what's going to happen down the line. :)

I know you all will have questions, and I can assure you that they will be answered as the story progresses. I will do my utmost best, and that is all I can do, after all.

Also, yes, Jaune's scene may have been inspired by the spiders of Mirkwood from The desolation of Smaug. Will it be the only one? Eh, who knows.

As for Cinder; yes, she has an etherium arm, and etherium on side of her face, and eye. Picture her as looking both better and worse than how she did in canon post season 3. Tezzeret is an asshole, but he does good work, especially with Bolas breathing over his shoulder.

So, anyway, remember to read, like, follow, favorite, comment, review, and watch!