Prologue

The Darkest Light

Officer Jeffrey Halloumi was a proud member of the Valean Police Department. Keyword: was. He, like many other of his colleague, started off serving in the force as your stereotypical bright-eyed, goody-two-shoes cop who one day hoped would put an end to the rampant criminal activity and corruption that polluted the capital. But life had a funny way of going about things.

Instead of being the super-cop he dreamed of being, he'd become a bitter, cynical, and underpaid beat cop struggling to meet his daily quotas. If anyone asked him if he enjoyed his job or not, there would be no hesitation for him to answer no. But that didn't mean life in the beat was boring, oh no. Far from it, in fact.

Sometimes he'd get calls from the operator requesting reinforcement or if HQ had put up an APB for a person of interest. As morbid as it might sound, those calls made his job a little less boring. And speaking of boring… it looked like his day was about to be anything but that.

"Hey how you doing?" Jeffrey greeted the subject of his interest that day. He looked the person up and down, his trained eyes quickly noting a few key details about the person he's approaching. "You look a little bit lost there, anything I can do to help?" he asked the stranger saddled on top of a horse.

Yes, a horse. Jeffrey couldn't remember the last time he saw anyone riding a horse anywhere in Vale with the few exceptions of a few rural areas outside of the city. Not to mention, not many folks own horses anymore. Vale was the second technologically advanced kingdom next to Atlas, modernization had come a long way and in such a short time.

"Good day, officer." The rider's young but definitely masculine voice greeted him, and Jeffrey immediately thought of his nephew. Fella couldn't be older than him too. "I'm heading to Beacon, but I'm afraid I've found myself lost."

He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and that overall boyish look that his nieces would go crazy for. Polite too. A pack is tied to the saddle, no doubt carrying the few items he had with him. The rugged brown cloak covering his body would normally alarm the officer, but it's obvious that he's not from around here. From a glance, it's enough for Jeffrey to come up with the conclusion that he's from the Frontier or a faraway settlement in the woods.

"Beacon, eh?" Jeffrey remarked. "You looking to be a Huntsman?" He asked the rider of the white horse.

"Yes," the young man replied. "I thought why not play it safe and arrive at Beacon a few days early before initiation. Besides, I haven't been to the city before."

"Ah," Jeffrey nodded, having recalled that the Huntsman Academy was indeed having its new intake of students in a few days. As per protocol, the local authorities had been informed about it. Not only as a common knowledge, but also as a safety measure. A lot of folks were going to be entering the Kingdom, after all. "Well, I can get you to the airfield where they normally pick up initiates like you, but I don't think they'll allow your stallion over here on board their airship."

"Mare, officer," the blonde corrected with a friendly smile. "Maleficent is a mare." He reached an armored arm out from within the cover of his cloak to pat the mare, brushing leather covered fingers through the horse's mane.

"Huh, apologies." Jeffrey tipped his cap. For a moment, he swore the horse took offense to him misidentifying it. "But there is another way and that's using a ferry. Head to the pier and there should be a few ships leaving for Beacon's docks. Just… eh, you might need to give the captain a few incentives if you're planning to bring your horse. Here, I'll show you where it's at. Do you have a scroll?"

"Ahaha… funny that you mentioned that…" The would-be Huntsman laughed sheepishly, a crooked smile forming on his youthful face. "I ran into a little bit of trouble on the way here and lost my scroll as a result. I was hoping to get to Beacon earlier so that I can get a new one, you see."

"Is that so? That's unfortunate. Well, you can head to the pier…" Jeffrey began directing the way towards the pier to the young man. "If that's all, stay safe and stay out of trouble."

"Will do, officer. Thank you again," thanked the rider of the horse, tipping his head forward lightly as a show of gratitude.

With his arms crossed, Jeffrey stared at the retreating form of the young man and his horse as they drew curious stares from other pedestrians that passed by. Although he didn't ask the young man, Jeffrey got the feeling that he's a long way from home. The closest settlement to Vale was Patch, but it's an island off the coast of Vale and the boy definitely didn't come from there.

That all but left the Frontier itself, a place where a city dweller like him want no business being at. He'd heard of the stories – they all had – of settlements overran by Grimm and ransacked by bandits, resulting in the many loss of lives and another failure in attempting to establish a stronger foothold in expansion. He, like many other, remembered the Kingdom's latest attempt of doing just that and let's just say that Vale wouldn't be trying anything like that anytime soon.

Fixing his cap, Jeffrey said to himself, "well, back to work." Never a dull day in Vale, he thought to himself. If you're not running after purse snatchers, you get to see interesting people like he did. Well at least it's not a dust robbery this time.

The cop found himself shuddering at the thought. He remembered seeing the aftermath of the paperwork a co-worker had to fill out. Poor sap looked like he got the life sucked out of him. Not even a trip to the Crow's Nest could bring him back from that.

The foreign smell of Dust emission was like a sting to the senses. More than just the nose, but all five of them. Any other person would not be able to feel what he was feeling and for a reason.

A Semblance.

In textbooks, a Semblance is described as the manifestation of one's innate and personal power as an ability unique to each individual. Meaning that a person's Semblance was, in a way, a reflection of they were as a person. Hence the name Semblance. Now, there were cases of people having similar Semblances and family members inheriting the same Semblance as their parents', but even then a person's Semblance would still find a way for it to be unique to them and them only.

Speaking of unique Semblances… there can be no one else with a Semblance as unique as his.

A pair of eyes flashed to red, flickering and glitching for a fraction of a second before returning to their usual deep blue color. An otherwise healthy skin complexion began paling rapidly, faltering between staying a healthy color to that more akin of a day old corpse. Molars ground against each other and veins protruded against the upper dermis of the skin rendering them visible. Heartbeat rapidly increasing, senses he could not feel before began entering him.

Visions of the night, the darkness of the woods, and the feel of the cold dry air flooded his memory. A broken moon, a burning town, the screams of a hundred unfortunate souls crying as one only to be silenced instantly.

Armored hands gripped the leather reins harder to the point of wearing down on the material. Seemingly sensing distress, the white mare trotting underneath let out a chorus of neighs to comfort its rider. Fortunately, the rider responded. With difficulty, he offered the mare a tilted smile, caressing the mane of the equine creature while muttering thank you.

With his complexion returning and sensitivity to the surroundings receding, he carried on to the pier as the good officer had directed him.

He found it amusing that he's actually in a Kingdom; Vale especially. Although not as populated as Mistral, the concentration of people in the city alone was enough to trigger the more 'unique' side-effect of his Semblance. Fortunately for him, he'd gone through great lengths practicing and mastering his innate ability. He recounted those days of waking up early in the morning – when the sky was still dark – and painstakingly training himself as best as he could with the little knowledge he had.

His father wouldn't train him and his family was pretty much opposed to him being a Huntsman, but that didn't stop him. He began learning sword forms from old history books they had in their study. But with no one to guide him, it made things very difficult going forward. He couldn't tell if what he was doing was right or was he doing things the wrong way, he nearly gave up even.

But every time the thought of giving up reached his mind, he would always think of what happened that fateful night. He recalled that night and he felt the apprehension rising from within his gut. It happened not too long ago, yet it felt like a long time to him. The night when everything changed, the night when he changed. Things… started to make a lot more and a lot less sense after that fateful night.

"Ahoy lad, here for the ferry to Beacon?" A man wearing overalls approached him, his swarthy complexion gave the image of a dock worker or maybe even a crew on one of the ships anchored here.

"Aye," he answered, "I'm hoping to catch a ferry to Beacon, but I need one that'll allow me and my horse onboard."

The man nodded, his eyes slanting due to the ray of the sun. "I can see that, luckily for you, I know just the right ship. But it'll cost you a few chits…"

He sighed. "I'm sure we can work something out…" The mind of men and their propensity for greed. Oh well, such was the nature of men.

Getting his mare on a boat took a little bit of work. He's pretty sure there's a joke to be made there about horses and large bodies of water, but he's going to be the bigger guy and not grab that low hanging fruit. The man, as it turned out, was indeed one of the ferry ship's crew. They couldn't exactly decide on a price, but the captain promised him to return his change

It was a short cross from the docks over to Beacon's own, which he was glad for seeing as the motion of the waves starting to make him a little bit green. It's still not as bad as flying in an airship, though. Now that's not something he wanted to experience any time soon. It's not often he get to be on a boat, he's sure he could count the number of times he'd been on one. Most of them were when he visited one of his sisters' in Argus.

Speaking of sisters, it gripped his heart that he had to depart with them in the way he did. The tearful parting he went through was not the one that most people think of when they thought of the words. He shouldn't waver. He made up his mind. He came to the city, to Beacon, with one intention in mind; to become a Huntsman. But above all else, he reminded himself of the real reason why he had to become a Huntsman in the first place.

Darkness began encroaching the corners of his vision as a familiar feeling of pressure settled into him. He hid his face under the hood of his cloak before anyone could see him. Thankfully, he's the only one present on the deck other than his horse. No one saw his complexion rapidly paling, hair turning white, and eyes becoming blood red.

He shivered and trembled under the cover his cloak, not because he was cold, but because he was desperate to not let a single soul see him in his current state.. Looking across the water, he could see the pier of Beacon's docks getting nearer. Gulping, he made up his mind.

With practiced ease, he skillfully jumped on to his horse saddle where it then proceeded to trot around the deck, building up speed to pull off an otherwise amazing stunt if it was on a horse-riding competition. The spectacle rendered the crew members watching in awe. But awe made way for confusion as they saw the rider and the horse breaking into a run, galloping away from view.

"Hey kid, you forgot your change!" The captain shouted at the rapidly disappearing boy and horse duo only to realize it's futile. "Oh well." He sighed, before muttering, "these Huntsmen kids are getting crazier by the day..."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Whew… that was close, too close." Grunting, he combed his armored fingers through his now golden hair. "I'll need to be more careful from here on out…" The horse he's leading neighed, as if agreeing with him.

He shuddered to think what would happen should he lost control of himself. He remembered vividly the last time that happened and… let's just say that he would do everything in his power to prevent it from happening. Ever. He shouldn't get ahead of himself, however. He still needed to be careful. He had come to the realization that there were going to be times when he couldn't control himself and eventually lose control.

Reaching his hand into his cloak, he fished out a necklace with a silver cross being its main ornament. A leather string looped around his neck, keeping it on him at all times. He frowned as he held the cross within his thumb and index finger. "Even you're no longer enough, huh..." he murmured more to himself rather than the necklace. Sighing, he covered the necklace back underneath his cloak.

If he was born as any other boy… as any other Arc child… then maybe his circumstances would be different. Maybe his parents would be more open to idea of him being a Huntsman. But not in this life.

Jaune Arc. The eighth child, the youngest, the only son, the runt of the litter.

Born into a loving family – a family that loved him a little too much he dare say – he did not grow up unhappy or devoid of love. In fact, he'd even go as far to say that he was showered in the affection and care that most children lacked. His status of being the youngest played a huge part in it and it might also be one of the main reasons why his parents could be so overprotective of him.

But… it's more than that.

When he was eight years old he had a dream. It'd be more accurate to call it a nightmare, now that he's thinking about it. A nightmare about the darkness, monsters, witches, and magic. A very specific one, one that he'd shared to his family on several occasions.

At first, they dismissed it as a case of an overactive imagination, one that a child his age was commonly associated with. But they all soon learned it wasn't the case at all.

At the age of nine, he unlocked his Aura all on his own. It was very shocking, to say the least. Cases of people unlocking their own Aura were rare all throughout Remnant, and those that did only managed to do so after enduring a very stressful situation; one that often involving death. Needless to say, his parents were confused.

How could their son, who did not have prior knowledge of Aura at all, just unlocked his own? They consulted with doctors, professors, and specialists in the matter regarding his condition and they were all left scratching their heads.

Then… things started to turn dark when he turned ten. He remembered screaming. Screaming so loud and primal that it hurt his throat just recalling the event. He remembered it scaring his sisters to the point of crying. He recalled his body changing into a darker imitation of his own; pale skin, blood red eyes, and bone white hair.

He remembered his father rushing into the room to take control of the situation, but he also remembered hurting him. It was as if he'd lost control of his body. He was conscious, but unable to speak or move. Like a puppet on strings, he felt manipulated. In the end, his father had to knock out his own son to get him to calm down.

After that… he woke up the next day to a ruined shared bedroom, his sisters deadly terrified of him, and chained to a chair with the tip of his father's sword pointed at his jugular.

"What are you?" he recalled his father demanding, thinking he was some sort of demon who had possessed his son. "What have you done to my son?!" His father shouted.

With blood-streaked eyes and ashen complexion, he remembered answering, "I am your son."

What happened next was… difficult. His father didn't quite believe him and threatened to kill him, still thinking he was a demon, but his mother swept in and stopped him before anything reckless could happen. She hugged him right then and there, telling him that everything was going to be alright. Deep down, he doubted that. But he knew that from that day onward… he could forget the idea of trying to live a normal life.

He chuckled hollowly. If he'd tried, he could probably sell it as the plot to a B-rated horror story or something. Now that he's walking through Beacon's courtyard, it might be a little bit too late for that.

Glancing upward, he frowned at the sight of gray clouds gathering in the distance. His nose also began picking up that distinct smell of ozone from the atmosphere that would exist whenever it's about to rain. His eyes trained to the road, he saw a figure standing a good distance before him.

A woman. Tall and strict looking. Dressed in formal attire, she also had a cape on. He saw the sunlight glinting on the reflection of her glasses, which also meant she was looking right at him. He got close enough to see the frown on her face, as well as the riding crop she had grasped firmly between her fist.

"May I know who you are?" she asked him, her voice sounded just how he imagined it to sound.

"I'm a candidate for Beacon, an initiate," he answered curtly, "the letter said candidates are allowed to stay in Beacon before the initiation day so I assumed it was alright for me to arrive earlier." The woman did not say anything for a moment. He could feel her eyes seizing him up.

"And your name?"

"Arc. Jaune Arc."

Her eyes bore into his and he could feel his heart slowly freezing from how intense it was. "That horse… is it yours?" she asked, her focus now shifted to his mare.

"Yes," although a little bit confused at the sudden question, he still answered. With a firmer tone, he asked, "she's my mare. Is there a reason why you're asking?" The woman appeared to be caught off guard by him questioning her. She shook her head as he noticed the corner of her lips tightened.

"No, there's no reason." The woman told him. "Please, follow me. I will be taking you to your temporary room, the place where you will be staying until initiation day." She paused. "As for your mare… she will have to stay outside. We will bring a hitching post for you to hitch her to."

"Thank you."

Now accompanied by the woman, he came to learn that her name was Glynda Goodwitch. She was a rather high ranking member of Beacon's staff; the Deputy Headmistress herself. That made her the second most senior member of the academy's staff, just below the Headmaster himself. As they walked, she would also give him a tour of the place.

He, much to his embarrassment, mostly tuned out the bits about the overall architecture of the place. But when they reached a fountain with a statue on it, he couldn't help but pay attention.

"The statue you are looking at is the depiction of a Huntsman and Huntress all the way back from the Great War. It is the only one of its kind and was commissioned by Beacon." The lecturer paused, noticing that her company was staring at the statue intently. "Is there something wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," the boy answered quickly, shaking his head. "It's just… the man on the statue looks familiar, is all." The boy said in a murmuring register.

Glynda frowned. What did he mean by that? As far as she's aware, the statue had been a part of Beacon ever since its founding and although detailed, the two people depicted were not supposed to be anyone specifically. Although… looking at the boy's face from an angle, she could see why he would say that. Jaw, cheekbones, and the overall shape of his face made it look like he would be very loose model of the male statue. But she was sure it was just coincidence and nothing more.

They continued their walk across Beacon, the Deputy Headmistress decided that it's smarter to cut the tour short and bring the boy to his temporary quarters. Emphasis on temporary. Jaune understood that if he wanted to make his stay at Beacon permanent, he would have to pass initiation. He… had little to no idea what sort of initiation he might go through, but he was willing to bet that killing Grimm would be a part of it. A huge part of it.

"This is the room where you will be staying." Glynda opened a door to one of the many dorm rooms Beacon had to offer. He noticed how cramped it was, but maybe that's just his eyes playing tricks on him. Four beds in a room had somehow made the room look much smaller than it seemed. "As I've said before, you will be staying here for the moment. Initiation day is in three days and until that day, and assuming whether or not you will pass initiation, your access to Beacon is limited to only the cafeteria, library, showers, and the docks."

That was reasonable, he thought. While getting used to his surroundings, he noticed the Deputy Headmistress's stare lingering at him. This was the fourth time now. Was there a reason why she's constantly staring at him? Was an early-comer that much of a reason for caution? From the looks of it, that might just be the case.

"...that horse outside," Glynda suddenly spoke in a much subdued voice than before. "It really is your horse."

Again with his horse. Blinking, Jaune nodded. He said, "yes, she is mine." Normally, he would ask her why she's bringing up the topic again. But there was something in the way the Deputy Headmistress looked at him that made him not dare ask.

His Semblance, the one tied to his senses, picked up the way Glynda's heartbeat quickened the moment the topic of his horse was brought up. He also could smell the slight odor of perspiration that the body would make whenever someone was showing signs of nervousness. But it was ultimately her eyes that gave him the clearest picture.

As stoic as she carried herself to be, Glynda's face would appear grim just like it is now. It's all tied to him bringing a horse, so maybe they lost a horse and thought his was theirs? Again, all of this could probably be solved with him broaching the topic and asking her why. But like he said before, he felt strangely pressured to not pry.

Nodding, the lecturer said, "I see. Then, I shall leave you to yourself." Just like that, the mask of a cool-headed and stoic professor slipped back on. "But please, do observe silence. You are not the only candidate who has chosen to arrive early." With that said, Glynda's bespectacled eyes glazed over his still cloaked – sans hood – form.

She then closed the door to the room, and Jaune could hear her footsteps getting further and further away deeper into the halls. Still staring at the door where the woman just stood, Jaune wondered if maybe he should ask her what the whole deal about his horse was about. Oh well, maybe it's better for him to not do so.

"Now… better start unpacking," he said, as if he had a lot to unpack.

"It was not her horse."

"...I see."

Underneath the ever rotating gears of clockwork, two people were having a conversation. One was the Deputy Headmistress of Beacon herself, and the other one's her boss and superior; none other than Beacon's Headmaster himself. Glynda then added, "not to mention, his is a mare while hers is stallion. The only similarity between them is only the fact that they're white horses."

The man seated behind the desk lowered his desk, hiding the frown that formed on his face. Raising it back up again, he gave his Deputy a grateful nod and said, "thank you for informing me this, Glynda. Still, it is interesting that a rider with a white horse would appear at our doorsteps just a mere day after we have our own returned to us." he sighed. "And he is a potential student, you said? What is his name?"

"Jaune Arc, sir," Glynda revealed, noticing the way the Headmaster's eyebrows raise significantly, she asked, "is there something we need to know about him specifically?"

The man behind the desk straightened his posture as he seemed to enter a moment of thinking. His lips were frowning while his eyes were clearly lost in thought. "An Arc…" the Headmaster repeated, his voice trailing off. "To think we'd have an Arc attending Beacon."

"I have never heard of these… 'Arcs'," Glynda pondered audibly, "are they an important group of people?"

The man nodded before moving his fingers to fix his glasses. "I'm not surprised that even you know little to none about them. Their family have made it clear that they want little to no part in the world of Huntsmen." He then continued, reclining back into his chair. "They were a very important family back in the old days, all the way back to the founding of the Kingdoms."

The Deputy Headmistress couldn't hide her surprise after hearing that last tidbit. "That far back," disbelief was evident in her voice. "What did they do to make them so important?"

"They were the first family to swear allegiance to the Warrior-King of Vale," the Headmaster said. "They were something like royalty, despite not being related to the Valish Royal Family…" he then murmured, "although it wouldn't be surprising if they married into the Royal Family down the line. I could not remember very well as it has been so long ago."

"If they are so important, then how come we have never heard of them in history books?" Glynda asked her friend and boss.

To that question, the Headmaster smiled his all-knowing smile. "Oh but you have." Glynda recognized that smile. "Think about all of the major historical events or battles that has happened throughout recent history, there's a very high chance that an Arc was involved in it. All the way back from the Siege of Mistral during the heights of the Mistrali Empire, the Vacuo Offensive during the Vacuan-Valish War, and even as recent as the Battle of Fort Castle during the Faunus Rights Revolution."

Glynda knew of the events listed by the Headmaster. She was a professor after all, it was her job to know the significance of those events and the effect they had on today's society. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what the Arcs did during those key events in history and why so little was known about them if they were present there? Were they just one of the many families who sent out their sons to fight for Vale?

"I will even go as far as to say that they played a critical role during those events." The Headmaster had that faraway look, appearing lost in the moment as his smile dimmed. "As for why they're not well known now… let's just say that sending out sons and daughters to war does not get easier even with time." He concluded, gaze cast downwards. "Especially when almost most none of them returned to their families."

That was not what she was expecting, but it made sense. The average life expectancy for people in Remnant was 60. For people with dangerous jobs such as a Huntsman or soldier, the average life expectancy was around half the normal one. Not to mention, people lived a much shorter lifespan in the past. Not wanting to be reminded of the sons or daughters who lost their lives in battle or war to the point of scrubbing their family name off the history books… she could understand why.

"Then wouldn't Jaune Arc's presence in Beacon be a problem," asked Glynda dimly. "In fact, how did his family approved of him being here in the first place?" she asked.

"Oh you know how it goes," the Headmaster sighed in a fond manner, "son wants to be a Huntsman, son's family does not approve, so son runs away from home and gets a fake transcript to get admitted into academy."

"What?!" Glynda shouted, eyes wide as saucers. The woman's mouth was agape for a few seconds before she composed herself. "His transcripts are fake? And you let him enroll anyway? Forgive my tone, sir, but what were you thinking?! Don't tell me he hasn't been to a combat school also." Her face muscles slackened when she saw the smile on the man's face slowly getting wider.

"According to the piece of paper I already signed," Glynda sucked in air through her teeth at how aggravating her boss's voice was as he continued, "Jaune Arc studied under a veteran Huntsman as an apprentice. He also passed the entrance exams Beacon required its applicants to pass. I say that's enough of a reason to accept his admission."

"But sir," Glynda started, "procuring forged transcripts is illegal and is punishable by Valish law." The strict Deputy Headmistress made it clear in her voice that she did not approve of her superior's decision. "We cannot let the reputation of our school suffer by letting a… potential criminal enroll."

"Come on now Glynda," the Headmaster said in an almost chiding tone. "Not everyone has the privilege of having a smooth start. Some come to us so that they could actually start doing something worth doing in the first place. And it is our job as educators to provide them with the knowledge and means to do so."

Sighing, hearing the Headmaster's reasoning placated her worries. Perhaps she had been too harsh on the boy. She did not truly know of his circumstances, after all. But she couldn't help quench the deep-seated feeling of worry in her heart.

Her mind recalled the day they brought her in. Unresponsive. Unconscious. Deeply immersed in a clinical coma. Her heart ached at the sight of her comatose friend, having not awaken even after so many days.

"You are worried that he might be related to Amber's current predicament." Glynda was not surprised that the Headmaster managed to guess what she had actually been feeling all this time. "While there is nothing wrong with worrying for one's friend, we mustn't let our worry cloud our perception of others."

"I… yes," Glynda uttered, "I see."

Pausing, the Headmaster let his long-time friend and co-worker have a brief moment for herself. He understood what Glynda was feeling. Amber was someone close to him, a former student of Beacon even. When the Bullhead carrying her comatose body touched down on Beacon's airfield, he was there along with several other members of the staff to transport her into her current dwelling. Due to the nature of her powers, Amber couldn't even be checked in at the clinic like a normal person. Aside from a few people, not many knew she even existed.

There's him and his people… and then there's them.

"Thank you for your time, sir." Excusing herself, Glynda exited the Headmaster's office. Dragging his gaze downwards, it landed on a piece of paper; one that he had yet to sign.

Sighing, he said, "and here I am back to signing paperwork again."

Just a word of warning, I will be taking A LOT of creative liberties with this story. I hate canon.