A/N: Its baaaaaaack~!

*ducks for cover*

I posted this ages ago, didn't like what I did with it, and deleted it. Everything felt too rushed, too forced by half. So here, lets try this again. I said I'd write a pure RWBY story...and here it is, my second go around at it. If folks don't like this, I'll delete it for good and that'll be the end of it. I mean it, you'll never hear from me in this section again. I'll stick to the other sections.

This is either going to be a rousing triumph...or its going to get me a LOT of flames. Part of the reason why I was so hesitant to post it until now. Would you believe I've been sitting on this story for a couple of months now? Of course, it gave me plenty of time to write the damn thing, but in the same vein I'm very nervous about putting this out here. I usually write Naruto stories, and while I have written in other categories before, the RWBY fandom can sometimes be a tad...excitable.

So, here goes nothing, round two, and come what may. Not sure if anyone's done this before, buuuuuut...

Funny how a simple choice can change the fate of a world, isn't it?

Oh, and MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR VOLUME 6 ^_^

"What is destiny, but two sides of the same coin?

What is fate, but a chosen path?

What is life, but a choice?"

~?

Magic Unbound

His world was gone.

Try though he might to believe otherwise, Ozma couldn't deny it any longer.

Gazing down at the still form laid to rest in this bitter bed before him, grief threatened to strangle his very soul. Harsh tears stung at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall; for if he did so now, then his grief would surely swallow him whole. Why? His fingers clenched powerlessly at his sides, drawing bloody tracks against his palms. Why did it have to be her? She looked so calm. So peaceful. As though she were simply resting; as if she would wake at any moment. But she wouldn't. No matter how he might wish it.

Salem would never open her eyes again.

She'd had been imprisoned by her father for her much of her life, left to languish in that tower until the end of her days. Even her escape hadn't been enough to break hiss control of her. In his final moments the man had cursed his daughter, cast a spell so powerful that even the finest healers in the land couldn't save her. With none living left to lift the spell, and no healer capable of breaking it, he'd been forced to watch her die a death by inches, slowly wasting way before his eyes as days dragged on.

Why? It should have been him. He would have gladly gone to his rest if it meant his beloved could live on; would've happily traded his life for hers. But hadn't. He couldn't.

And now she was gone, lost to him forever.

Disease had done what a lifetime of solitude and loneliness could not; stealing away her life seemingly overnight. In truth, his wife had struggled on for far longer, desperately clinging on until finally she could endure it no longer. It had started slowly at first; a cough here, a dizzy spell there. Nothing alarming. Nothing out of the ordinary...until she worsened. By the time they had realized the true extend of her illness, it was too late. No matter how he tended to her, no matter the magic, no matter the doctor, her health continued to falter.

He'd woken this morning. She hadn't.

All his life he had striven for peace and justice. Now those ideals, the very pillars that sustained his being for so long, crumbled with each passing moment. Peace could not hold his hand. Justice did not warm his heart with her smile, nor send his heart aflutter with laughter. Only here and now, now that he'd finally come to love someone, did he truly understand the extent of his loss. Fate had stolen Salem away. A poor, lonely girl, who only tasted happiness to lose it. How could the gods allow such a travesty? No. This would not stand. Surely there must be a way to fix this.

And there was. Wasn't there?

For better or worse Ozma made his decision. He would beseech the Brother Gods and ask for their favor. Surely they could understand the unfairness of this situation. They had to. They must.

What if they didn't?

The thought roused something ugly in Ozma's chest. Something dark. It left him feeling heavy and cold on his knees, weighed down by the terrible possibility that any journey he undertook might well be for nothing. If the Gods How cruel this was. How unjust it was. Still, he would ask them, if only because he must. There was no other option left to him. He could not raise the dead.

A sudden epiphany struck him as he climbed to his feet and began fastening on his armor.

Looking back, he couldn't say why or where, only that it did. He couldn't quite explain the strange surge of dread he felt, but it rooted him all the same. A thorn of hesitation pricked his heart and held him back at the last. Perhaps...he should not ask the God of Light after all. A being of light likely wouldn't take kindly to resurrecting the dead. It fe

He'd implore aid from the God of Darkness, then. And if that unholy being demanded a price from him in exchange for Salem's life...then so be it.

After all, he'd already lost the one person he'd held dear. What were his weapons and armor compared to that?

He had nothing left to give but his life.

(.0.0.0.)

The God of Darkness was truly a terrifying being to behold.

It rose from the murky pool with stiff, jerky movements, like some perverse puppet severed from its strings. Humanoid, yet so much more. Just the sight of it was enough to terrify Ozma. This was a God. Eternity and immortality personified. A being he could not defeat, an entity he had no hope of bartering with. Honesty was his only weapon here, and he'd have but one chance to use it. And so he watched, spellbound as it crawled across the blackened waters on hunched limbs towards him, like some kind of ghastly beetle come to swallow him whole.

As he looked on the God of Darkness straightened, spine wrenching with an audible crack.

Grimm congregated around their master, ready to shield their lord from harm. He knew he'd not be able to defend himself against so many. It was a chilling thought. The God of Darkness didn't even need to raise a hand against him to snuff out his life. A single thought, and they'd rend him limb from limb.

And so the God spoke.

"Only the brave or foolish enter my domain." his words were a storm personified, lightning ready to strike at the slightest provocation."Which are you, mortal?"

"Neither." Ozma dared a tentative smile as that expressionless visage gazed upon him. "I prefer to call myself hopeful."

"Oh?" That horned visage tilted a fraction of an inch. "Then what, pray tell, is your purpose here?"

The Grimm crowded in closer, attracted to his anxiety, his stress, his fear.

"I'm just a simple hedge knight." he admitted. "And I have come to ask a boon of you."

The God of Darkness lacked visible eyes, but Ozma was fairly certain it had blinked just then.

"What is your purpose here?" it repeated, softly this time.

All or nothing, then.

The knight knelt, laid his sword at the god's feet, pressed his head to the ashen floor, and told his tale. Words tumbled from his lips, and bitter tears poured forth from his eyes as he told of is wife's untimely end. Of the foul curse her Father had laid upon her in his final moments. He spoke the truth to a word. He held nothing back. He told him he'd felt compelled to seek him out, that he believed in his heart of hearts that only he alone could grant his wish. Unvarnished honesty, at its finest.

A pall of awful silence feel between the two of them.

"None have entered my domain for thousands of years." he thought he heard a faint note of joy in the younger god's voice when it finally spoke again. "Ever have they flocked to my brother's banner. And yet you have chosen to seek me out before him, of your own volition no less. Heh. Hehe. HA!" a rich peal of exultant laughter burst from its body as it doubled over, clutching at its sides. "Tell me, mortal, what is your name."

He dare not refuse him. "Ozma, sir."

"I shall remember your name, Ozma." the deity straightened with a pleased sigh. "When you and yours are dust and the children of your children's children are naught but ash, I will remember you. And when my Brother seeks to test my patience, I shall remind him of this moment. Thank you for that, hedge knight."

Hope stirred in his chest. "Then...?"

"Rise now, my knight." Without warning, an ebony limb beckoned. "And let your faith in me be rewarded."

The words hit Ozma like a physical blow; he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding until this very moment. He'd ventured so far and risked so much to meet this terrifying being. A very real part of him had feared failure. Rejection. Instead he'd been rewarded beyond his wildest dreams.

"Truly?"

"Truly." the God sounded just a touch smug as he raised his right palm. "Behold."

In a swirl of dark light, reality bent and folded before Ozma. Where once his arms had held naught but empty air, he now found himself cradling the love of his life once more. Hale and healthy, as she'd been shortly after her escape from that lonely tower. Salem lay limp in his arms, still and unmoving, head lolling to one side. For a moment he feared she wouldn't wake.

Until she did.

Startled blue eyes flew wide open as she came alive in his arms, gasping and flailing.

"Where am I?!" She cried! "What happened?!"

"You live again by my hand, dear child." That settled it, the God of Darkness was almost certainly preening over the two of them now. Ozma supposed he had the right to. "Your beloved sought me out so that you might be returned to life; his words moved my heart, and so here you are."

Her eyes fluttered again, panic fading, as realization dawned. "Ozma...? I...is that really you?"

"Its alright now," he soothed, stroking her cheek. "Everything's going to be alright."

Frightful blue eyes gazed up at him. "No," she whispered. "It isn't."

A peal of deafening thunder shook the world and she went limp in his arms.

"What. Have. You. Done?"

Ozma rounded on the sound and felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach.

This great gilded being standing atop the altar steps behind them could only be called the God of Light. He'd not seen him before, but with such golden splendor he couldn't be anything else. His great horned head inclined a fraction of an inch, looking down on them. His hands balled into corded fists at his sides and those mighty antlers almost seemed to bristle and grow for a moment before he master himself.

Only then did he move.

"I have done what I please, brother." The God of Darkness bridled as his sibling descended the steps to meet them. "You may bask in the powers of creation but you do not own them."

The larger god bristled as though offended by the idea. "This is not creation-

"DO NOT LECTURE ME!" Something ghastly deepened the younger god's voice, and for a fleeting moment, its very being seemed to flicker. "You have no right!"

The air boiled between them. Neither spoke for what felt like an eternity. And then:

"I will do what I must to maintain order."

A golden palm rose in Salem's direction, but God of Darkness proved quick to intercept it, batting it down with one of his own before his brother could unleash whatever magic he'd prepared. Even then Ozma couldn't quite let go of the tension his shoulders. He'd never once thought that by seeking out the God of Darkness first, he might enrage that of the Light. Were they not brothers?

"You dare enter my domain and attempt such disrespect?!"

Disrespect indeed! Just how petty could one deity be?!

"I am abiding by the rules WE agreed upon!"

"Rules that I now see were ever weighed in your favor!" The God of Darkness stalked forward, the earth shaking beneath his feet with each step. "You hoard your worshipers like a greedy child, and yet the moment a mortal comes to pray at my feet before your own," ghastly wings sprouted from his back as his body began to writhe and twist, "So do you arrive to lay your judgement upon me!" Before Ozma's very eyes the God became something else entirely. "Well no more! I will not have it!

Even when faced with an open maw rearing back to bite him, the God of Light did not recoil in the face of such adversity,

Instead another dragon was born in a great flash of light, a mighty curling serpent soaring through the sky overhead. Flames flickered between its teeth, but it did not unleash them.

"I know we have our differences," he intoned solemnly, gazing down at him. "But I have not come here with the aim to control you."

"Nor have I!" Ozma interjected before the God of Light could gain ground. It was the truth, of course. He gained nothing by lying. "I came here seeking only your aid. Nothing more." when neither interrupted, he pushed on, holding his still-slumbering wife in his arms. "If you demand that I serve you as penance for resurrecting my wife then," he swallowed, forcing his fear down. "Th-Then I'll serve you. Hell, I'll worship you! To the end of my days! My life is yours!"

The dark dragon reared back, considering those words.

"Is that so?" a strange, purring note entered his voice. "I sense no duplicity in you, mortal. But do you realize what you are offering?"

Ozma had an inkling. It wasn't a pleasant one. But if this was the price he must pay, then he'd gladly pay it in full.

"Very well. I accept your offer. And what of you, brother?" With an audible crack, that giant skull swung back to regard the God of light once more. "You undo my work, you mock me, belittle me at every turn whenever you can. Now you seek to take my first worshipers from me? Does your arrogance know no bounds?!"

"You speak of arrogance?" The God of Light scoffed. " Yet it is you who defy the cycle of life and death-

CRACK.

Ozma didn't see the God of Darkness move, but he most certainly heard him. A blinding flash of violet and gold forced him to shield his face with his free hand and look away.

When he recovered, he found himself witness to a battle of the gods.

"I had no intention of returning another to life until you interfered!" The God of Darkness snapped as he grappled with his sibling. Mighty jaws clamped down on his neck, using his larger bulk to drive him into the earth. "Sometimes an exception must be made! Can you not see that?!"

"By that very logic, an example must also be made!"

"Enough of this!" the younger brother raked a clawed limb across the stone as his brother slipped away in a shower of light and escaped into the air once more. "I will bandy no more words with you! These are my followers. Mine! Not yours! So long as I breathe, you shall not have them!"

Ozma jerked back as a faint violet light shimmered around him and flowed into Salem, sheathing their bodies in a ghastly shroud. A sudden spark of...something shot through him and he sucked in a sharp breath. All the while, his wife continued to slumber fitfully in his arms. What was this? A spell of some kind? He peered down at his hands, feeling much unchanged.

"Brother!" Evidently, the God of Light seemed to disagree on that front. "Have you taken leave of your senses?!"

"It is done." With nary a sound, the God of Darkness reverted to his human form. "They are mine now, and no longer yours to torment."

"You would break our pact?!"

"If it spares me the sound of your voice and your incessant meddling?! Happily!" the younger god flung a hand at him. "Now, begone! Leave my domain at once!"

The God of Light reared back as if he'd been struck. Perhaps he had. Ozma felt a touch of pity for him. He'd never had a sibling, but if he did, he would've liked to get along with them. That two brothers were squabbling with the power of literal gods...well. That was above his pay grade. He may have accidentally instigated this, but he refused to involve himself further.

"So be it." Then those blazing eyes found him and any thoughts of neutrality fell away. "Know that you are responsible for this, mortal. When this planet suffers, when our conflict brings despair to the people and they live in fear, you will have none but yourself to blame."

Ozma flinched. "I...this was not my intent...

"Keep your misplaced guilt where it belongs, brother." The God of Darkness snarled in triumph. "Victory is a certainty for you no longer. Your followers may yet outnumber mine now, but that will soon change."

"We shall see."

A thunderclap of sound, a vicious rush of wind, and he was gone.

Ozma was left in the silence, holding tight to Salem. Holding to his guilt. His fault. This was his fault. In asking Salem to be revived, he'd unknowingly broken the peace between the Brother Gods. Light and Dark would be at war with one another once more. Their battle would rage across the world. Armies would be marshaled. Crops razed, cities toppled to the ground. All for a selfish wish.

He swallowed.

...what have I done...?"

And so the balance of an entire world was irrevocably altered.

A/N: What indeed, Ozma. What indeed. Actions have consequences after all.

In short, you can think of this first chapter as a prologue. I'm sure you can see where this is headed.

This is very much a "What-If" story. One in which the world has changed, and magic yet remains, but now? Now the Brother Gods are very much at war with one another. Dwell on that for a moment if you will and consider just how dangerous that might be. We're clearly starting from Salem and Ozma's perspective, but rest assured, we'll get to see the rest of the cast and all those we've come to know and love very, very soon.

After all This is merely the introduction, rewritten to test the waters as a proper story, not a rushed out idea like last time.

The rest of the chapter's will from Ruby's perspective, as well as others, don't worry. This tale isn't a some role/palette swap either!

As ever, I await your feedback.

If folks don't like this, I'll delete it in for good this time and that'll be the end of it. I mean it, you'll never hear from me in this section again. I'll stick to the crossover area. But if you DO like it...then by all means, feel free to drop a review. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

So In the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review, Would You Kindly?

No previews this time!

R&R~!