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"I feel as if I had opened a book and found roses of yesterday, sweet and fragrant, between its leaves."
― L. M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island

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Prologue:
Status Quo

Wars have always marked the beginning and end of every Age.

No one knows exactly how far back human history began, nor does anyone know the full and exact timeline that exists in the present day. All we have is bits and pieces of written documents, a few fascinating relics that can give us partial dates, and the word of mouth traditions and oral histories passed down through generations of people. With all of these taken into consideration, a somewhat accurate timeline of our world might look something like this:

The first Age began over a thousand years ago, but the true number is hotly debated. All anyone knows for sure is that some sort of cataclysmic disaster occurred that nearly wiped out the human race on Remnant – though many historians do not believe our world was even called that at the time. If anything, the disaster was so incredibly bad, so utterly terrible, that our world was simply called Remnant from that point forward. After all, whatever it was that happened had only left a small 'remnant' of civilization behind, erasing untold numbers of lives, cultures and histories that had come before. Even the very existence of those lost cultures is debated, as the disaster itself erased them so completely that almost nothing remains for us to find today.

As the first Age went on, myths and legends give account of humanity's struggle to survive against both nature and the Creatures of Grimm – for the Grimm have always existed, even before the disaster – and it was during this time period that mankind discovered the miraculous mineral that would come to be known as Dust. It also marked the discovery of a power that would, over a number of centuries, become known as Aura. Both of these discoveries were quickly adapted for use in battle, giving rise to the class of warriors that would later gain the title of Huntsmen.

A scant few records indicate that Faunus existed in the first Age, though they had already been enslaved by humans due to fear and ignorance. Little is known about the physiology of the ancient Faunus, their own culture, or their treatment during these early days. All that is widely accepted was that Faunus have been slaves for far longer than they have been free.

Roughly 400 years after the unknown disaster that nearly destroyed Remnant, the first true Kingdom was established on the largest continent in the world at that time – the Ancient Kingdom of Sanus. The unnamed King and Queen of this land were considered by many as living gods and by others as powerful sorcerers or witches, though their exact nature will likely never be understood. All that is known is that they were powerful enough to protect their land from the Creatures of Grimm and give humanity hope for the first time since the Age had begun.

Though civilization had begun to slowly advance by then, no records ever indicated what started the Sanus Civil War. All that was certain was that the capital city of the Kingdom was completely destroyed and the society itself was split in two. In fact, most historians believe the destruction of the ancient capital city was the very event that left most of Sanus as a desert, as the dates line up with remarkable similarity. Many survivors fled to the east, taking refuge in a safe harbor of land that would, after several more centuries, become known as the Kingdom of Vale. The rest remained in the west, forming what would later become known as the Kingdom of Vacuo.

In all, it is believed the first Age lasted around 550 years. After the Sanus Civil War reached its conclusion, the second Age began.

It is in this period of time that humanity truly began to expand out from Sanus, finally exploring the world in earnest. The earliest records of human settlements in Anima date back to this Age, and it was here that history shows the first Empire being established on that same continent; the Empire of Mist.

Sadly, almost nothing is known about this mighty culture aside from two details: They ruled the entire continent with an iron fist, subjugating every last village and tribe they could find, and that they were very successful in pretty much every venture they undertook. All other information about this fascinating piece of history was lost in the Mist Revolt, the war that saw the Empire topple after reigning unchallenged for close to 350 years. The victors made great strides to purge the world of any and all traces of the Empire. From the ashes of this war emerged the early stages of what would soon become known as the Kingdom of Mistral.

In all, it is believed the second Age lasted somewhere between 600-700 years. After the Mist Revolt ended, the third and shortest Age began.

Even though human civilization had advanced greatly by this point, historical records of the period are still remarkably unreliable. By our best assumptions, the first explorers to the northern continent of Solitas were primarily composed of Mistralians that fled the chaos of the Mist Revolt. Among the explorers that came in later years was a man named Nicholas Schnee… but since other accounts exist of his exploits, I'll skip these for now.

The third Age lasted a mere 50 years, barely a fraction of the span of the second Age, but in that time humanity saw more rapid advancement than both of the previous Ages combined. Dust, which up until this point had been considered more of a weapon than anything else, began to be implemented into every facet of modern society and found a considerable rise in popularity. This lead to the growing importance of corporations like the Schnee Dust Company. Overall quality of life for mankind began to rise substantially in a very short time.

In addition, the proper title of 'Huntsman' first appears in historical records around this time, even though the job itself is one of the oldest and most respected professions in all of Remnant – no one disputes the importance of fighting off the Creatures of Grimm, for the Grimm have always existed. Huntsmen during this period were almost exclusively self-taught or part of small clans that closely guarded their secrets, and no centralized form of warrior training yet existed.

Then the Great War occurred, setting in motion the events that would soon lead to our world appearing as it does today: Four Kingdoms, the Faunus race fighting for equal rights, and Huntsman Academies across the world working together to train the next generations of warriors to defend humanity from the darkness. In addition, our technology has advanced in leaps and bounds due mostly to the work done by researchers in the Kingdom of Atlas, the youngest and currently most powerful of the Four Kingdoms.

At the end of the Great War, the Four Kingdoms sat down together on the island of Vytal and signed a peace agreement – this both guaranteed a lasting peace between them and began the fourth Age in earnest. The Vytal Festival was held every two years after that day to remember that, at least once in our history, mankind came together to secure a brighter future for themselves and the generations to come.

And now, 81 years after the beginning of the fourth Age, mankind once again faces the prospect of a war that would encompass the entire world.

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June 12th, 4-81 — Mistral

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Anima had quite a few fishing towns all over the western coast, and Aogami was simply one of those. It didn't stand out in the least; it wasn't nearly as big as Argus far to the northeast, but it also wasn't small enough to simply disappear whenever a Grimm passed by the main gate a little too closely. It was… just right.

Despite news of the tragic Fall of Beacon reaching them several months ago, life in Aogami went on as usual. The women and children cared for the homes while the men went out to sea in the mornings and came back in the evenings, most of them with fairly normal-sized loads of fish. If anything, a few fishermen decided their catches seemed better than before. Fear and panic were the furthest things from the minds of Aogami's residents these days, and that suited them just fine.

The only thing this town had that Sam Gria cared about, on the other hand, was booze. The cheaper, the better.

Ol' Silva, the local innkeeper, had sent Sam away an hour ago with three full bottles of Haven's Finest. It was his version of 'payment' for the 2½ days he'd tried to have Sam work for him, only to discover what countless other employers across Mistral had already known: Sam Gria was impossible to work with. And that was fine with Sam, as he really didn't like people all that much.

At 60 years old, an age very few people reached in this godsforsaken world, Sam had long since passed his prime. And he didn't give a damn. He'd actually been rejected by Haven back when he applied, and any time he ever managed to get himself hired for work, poor Sam was let go within a week.

The ironic thing is… his Semblance should have made him invaluable! To everybody!

Sam Gria had the power to repel the Creatures of Grimm. Simply being in close proximity to them was enough to drive them away (angrily, one might note). And it was always on, so Sam never had to worry about things like Aura levels or combat training – he simply stood there, and the people around him were safe from attack.

Unfortunately, it seemed his power also repelled humans. Or maybe it was his personality. Or his tendency to forget important details rather quickly. Or perhaps it was his clumsy nature, which had once caused the accidental destruction of an entire Dust shop out east (but only one, dammit). Regardless, nobody wanted Sam around. Nobody had any respect for their elders anymore, it seemed.

Whatever. Who needs 'em anyway? Buncha jackasses…

Sam took a swig of his booze as he stumbled out of town, gradually heading south down a dirt road that hugged the coast. He hadn't been allowed to stay at an inn for… how long was it? Five years? Seven? Hell, he wasn't even allowed to sleep in the alley next to a dumpster in some towns. Thankfully there was no shortage of abandoned houses and buildings dotting the land between cities, so at least he had somewhere to sleep. Most of the time, anyway.

Up ahead, there was an old fortress that would work just fine as a hidey hole for a day or two. Even in the failing light of sunset, he could see that it had enough solid walls to keep him snug as a bug. If his luck held, he might even find a pinch of Fire Dust lying around inside – gods alone knew how long it had been since he'd been properly warmed beside a real fire. The snows may be long gone, but he was still cold. It was always too cold for him; one of the perks of getting old, he supposed. Maybe one day he'd settle down in the goddamn Vacuo desert.

He took another swig of his drink as he walked on, trying not to stumble and drop his precious cargo down the hillside and into the sea. At least the ocean breeze helped to refresh him a bit.

A lone Beowulf suddenly growled at him from a patch of woods several feet away, just off the road.

Sam growled right back.

The twice-damned thing actually looked offended, raised one of its middle claws in a one-fingered salute, then stomped back into the trees.

Sam Gria scoffed and walked on. He'd gotten used to that reaction by now, but it was still annoying. No respect, dammit.

…And one of these days he was gonna figure out how the stupid things learned to flip him The Bird™ in the first place. Seriously, they all seemed to know how to do that.

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There was a rusted plaque next to the main gate that declared the site as Fort Terminus.

Huh. Never heard of it.

The old fortress was minimalistic in design, with an outer wall surrounding a single courtyard and one large building in the middle. Said building had a single tower that once served as a lighthouse, but it had long since gone dark. The gate was still shut and locked, but the walls had started crumbling away over the years; Sam had no trouble getting in. He quickly found his surroundings to be empty of any potential goods, which was not surprising. No doubt countless other vagabonds had already picked the place clean. Buzzards, the lot of 'em.

One good kick to the front door was enough to grant the old man access to the main building. Inside he discovered it was a lot bigger than it looked. The place had clearly been built for a purpose, though it was damn near impossible to tell what.

The space was roughly square, with a round section of the floor that sat several feet lower. Almost like a pit. Lots of burns and scuff marks indicated where there used to be furniture and equipment, but the layout made no sense to Sam's untrained eye. All he could tell was that something once sat in the center of the pit, and that it wasn't there anymore. A real keen observer he was.

By the time he'd made his rounds and confirmed the sad truth that the fort was completely devoid of stuff to pick through, darkness had fallen. Sam Gria settled himself against the wall next to the front door, pulled out his second bottle of booze (he'd chucked the first as soon as it was empty) and had himself a party.

As he drank, Sam made numerous toasts to Haven Academy, to old girlfriends, to the month of June, to his old employers, and even to his deceased father… gods rest his soul. He ended up finishing that bottle, then half of the last one before dreams finally found him. The Goddess of Grain Alcohol gently rocked the poor old man in her arms and sang him to sleep.

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Something woke him up several hours later.

And for once it wasn't cuz he had to take a piss.

Despite never finishing his combat training, Sam still possessed that innate sense for danger that all potential Huntsmen needed to survive. Right now that sense was screaming at him to run. Or at the very least find cover and hide.

Yet there was no noise. No sign of any kind of disturbance. The angle of the moonbeams peeking through the boarded-up windows indicated that it was probably the small hours of the morning. A faint breeze rustled his salt-and-pepper beard, but other than that Sam could sense nothing.

But then he realized the breeze was getting stronger… and it was coming from the center the room. He staggered to his feet just before the air broke.

There was truly no other way to say it. As he watched the empty space at the center of the room, Sam witnessed something that resembled a large tear in a piece of fabric – except this was no old bedsheet he could use to add layers to his garments, but the air itself. Blinding light poured out of the hole like the blaze of full sunlight, but Sam kept looking, utterly transfixed. How this was happening or even possible at all was a question no sane person could answer, least of all old Sam Gria.

Out of that rift came… or rather fell… a person.

A moment later, the rift closed and total darkness fell upon the room once again. Sam was momentarily blind.

Panic kept Sam on his feet while shock kept them glued to the spot. His booze-addled brain simply could not process what just happened. Stars danced before his eyes for several minutes until he could just make out the shafts of moonlight from earlier. He frantically rubbed his eyes to get them working again, a mixture of wonder and fear filling his heart as he remembered what he'd seen; a person. Someone had fallen through that rift. It was possible that person might still be alive. But who could possibly survive something like that?

His eyes finally resumed their normal function and Sam looked up… only to find himself staring at a ghost.

At least, that's how his brain interpreted the image. The figure in question stood staring at him, through him, wearing a glowing white hood and cloak. No other details were visible in the murk except for the eyes, which seemed to glow with their own inner light. It almost looked like the ghost was holding two swords, one in each hand.

That was enough for Sam Gria. He passed out on the spot.

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The mysterious figure didn't move for several minutes.

Not that you could blame her.

Less than an hour ago, she had entered this fort on a mission to stop a madman… and now it was empty except for a homeless guy who just passed out? Literally falling apart around her? Of course it took a while for all that to sink in.

She returned Agni and Varuna to their strap, slightly embarrassed at her initial panic, then quietly checked the old man over to make sure he was alright. No major injuries, though his head would likely hurt when he woke up. She carefully straightened him out and left a few Lien on the floor nearby, silently wishing him well before stepping outside to find-

It was night? Already? But… that didn't make any sense. It was full daylight just a few minutes ago.

The figure pulled out her scroll from a pouch at her side with the intent of checking either the time or her location, then frowned at the message displayed on the screen – NO SIGNAL.

Odd. She reasoned to herself that the local CCT tower was probably undergoing maintenance. Happens all the time. No village was so remote that they couldn't access the CCT at all, so it was probably nothing.

There were quite a few questions buzzing through her head, and while she could certainly deduce many of them on her own given enough time, Ozpin and the General would have to answer the rest. It was clear her mission was complete, so all that was left was getting home and being debriefed.

Still, something felt… off. Too many little things were out of place.

With a sigh, the figure returned her scroll to its place and adjusted the twin swords at her hip. She quickly lowered her hood and straightened her hair, a mass of black that glittered with red highlights in the pale light of the moon, then pulled the hood back up and started walking. Her brilliant silver eyes caught sight of a fishing town just up the road from the fort.

Another oddity. Wasn't that town smaller when she arrived this morning?

How long was she in there for?

"Better get home before Tai has a fit," she muttered to herself.

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(^ω^)