WHAT – IS – SALEM?

The Tale of a Witch:

Deep in the woods there existed a tale of a cabin. A home for a stranger cut off from the rest of civilization. Some travelers had stumbled upon this strange structure over the years, but peeking inside and the travelers couldn't quite understand what it was they were looking at.

Tales of what was inside this strange cabin varied from person to person. Descriptions of the interior changing on a whim with everybody not being able to agree on anything about the details inside. What was stranger still was that some curious and persistent travelers would often return to the woods, retracing their steps in hopes of finding the cabin again.

But when they returned – there was nothing there. Nothing but an empty lot of land.

Returning to the same spot once more many days later, and numerous trees would've grown out of the ground by then at a ludicrous speed.

What was inside that cabin? Who was the owner? There were ancient tales of an old wizard meeting four young fair maidens, did he have anything to do with it?

No one knew for sure. If you asked the town's blacksmith Raven Branwen, however, she would offer an entirely different story. A theory? Or a memory? It wasn't entirely clear.

"That house belonged to a woman once," she told her son Yang Xiao Long as she was hammering away on the anvil. "If you ask around or read a history book a lot of people would disagree what her name actually was, so they instead just went with the title Salem, in some old Faunus tongue it meant 'witch' but there are some debates about that. A curious woman who wondered about the nature of gods, the nature of the Seasons."

"Where is she now?"

Raven shook her head:

"You'll have to ask the undertaker. She's been buried somewhere in that forest for over fifty years."

"Oh…"

"Some folks speculate that the location of her grave is cursed, an apparition in the form of her house. Which is why it moves around and never stays in one spot for long."

"What happened to her?"

"Well, being a person curious about the gods, she had dabbled in all manners of dark magicks. Spells and rituals long forgotten in the ancient ages, buried beneath the dirt and forbidden by those who had practiced it. Her curiosity did not care much for what the old peoples forbade. She was a determined woman. And when a woman is determined to accomplish an impossible task, she will never stop unless intervened by… well… gods."

A sudden rumbling sound echoing through the walls surprised the both of them, cutting their thoughts off. Something was going on outside, but this rumbling noise was strange. It sounded like it was echoing from a direction that didn't exist. Their ears and minds didn't know how to process this, and they both knew it was impossible. And yet…

"You stay here, boy. I'll go out to see what's going on."

"Raven!" The boy leaped to his feet after her.

"I said stay!"

The woman grabbed her sheath holding her blade, and slid the door to the side, storming out in a determined fury.

"Raven! You are not leaving me behind again. I'm coming… with…"

When they stared up into the clouds, their minds began to scramble, trying to define and process what it was they were looking at. Blurry figures so large their feet dwarfed the mountains in the distance. The people of the village also came out of their own houses to look into the sky, pointing their fingers in shock and horror trying to decipher the titans that stood miles above them.

"Get inside the house, boy!"

"Raven…"

"DO AS I SAY! We don't have time. We…"

Before Raven could finish, there above in the heavens a violent crimson blade clashed with the pale claws of a white demon clad in black. The power of the clash shook the very earth itself, and in the distance, Raven was horrified to see the mountains cracking in half from the shockwaves alone.

This was beyond them.

WHAT – IS – SALEM?

The Tale of a Prideful Queen:

Before the reign of King Theodore, there was the nameless Conqueror Queen of Mistral. A greedy woman blessed with a mighty empire and its invincible army. One that conquered the entire continent of Anima within just twenty short years.

They marched at the beat of the drums and the clash of the steel down south along the coast, burning any village they could find to open up space for the construction of roads and towns. Eventually establishing a powerful trade route that ran uninterrupted from the far North to the very edge of the South.

The Queen had everything she could ever Dream of. A kingdom, a throne, powerful soldiers, productive citizens and industries, the loyalty of her men, the gold in her vault, and so much more.

But the God of Money still ruled inside her, corrupting her heart. Her thirst for expansion was endless, and her stomach could never be filled. Eventually, she would set sight onto the rest of the world. Muscling her way into the other kingdoms if that was what it took.

She sought out the wisdom of a fortune teller, in hopes of securing her Destiny in a favorable path. She was confident in hearing what the seer had to say, so arrogant in believing that she could not fail.

But the seer did not tell her anything of her future. Instead only told her about a possibility.

An idea of a ritual, a sacrifice. If her own flesh were to be burned while reciting specific incantations to serenade the meat, what remained of her own body would become divine and immortal, never to fall before blade nor disease.

The Queen followed through this path. But because she did not want to sacrifice her own literal flesh, she decided on a second course of action. Something so foul and reviled by nature itself, so taboo that it would have influence over her entire bloodline for the next eternity.

The sacrifice of her own child.

The Queen would bring her innocent daughter to the site of the ritual. There the items prepared were numerous, vials of powerful boar blood, snake blood, eagle blood, jars of Grimm essence, piles of course sand, bronze coins, silver coins, gold bars, among countless other relics that seemed almost too random to carry any meaning.

But the spells were powerful, even if its rules were elusive, but still meaningful if you were skilled enough in the craft. Especially after adding in the final ingredient, the most powerful of them all – the vial of one's kin.

On that day, under the dark moonlight, a scream could be heard across the entire continent. Not a scream of a child, instead a scream of the woman consumed by her own madness as she stared into something so cosmic, chaotic, and evil that she was changed forever.

Witnessing in the sky, two massive titans battling in a fight so incomprehensible it warped the very ground the Queen stood upon, warping her to parts of Mistral and perhaps even parts of other continents. In the middle of this madness, she fell to her knees, bowing down to the great titan clad in black, muttering beneath her breath a word:

Salem.

"You are my master," she said, "and I you."

From that day forward, she would never again be the same. Made immortal just as she had wanted. The Queen thought long ago that this was a blessing of the gods. But the seer knew of the truth the very moment she met the Queen.

This was a curse.

WHAT – IS – SALEM?

The Tale of the First Grimm:

In the deepest darkest trenches of Remnant in an age long forgotten, centuries before the Old World, lied a black pit of unknown origins. Certain mysterious auras and spirits were emanating from this pit of darkness. Foul odors of rotten flesh, carrion of various animals that had never existed. Or perhaps they did exist, in a time even before this world predating the Old World.

No one could uncover the truth of what this pit was and where it came from. In order to do so, one must set foot down into the hole. Many had tried in the past, motivated by greed, power, curiosity, or something else entirely. And none of them had ever returned.

The graves of these foolish men were placed near the mouth of the black pit, to serve as a warning and scare away anyone who would dare go near. The graves could not stop everyone, however, because while it was good enough to scare away some of the mortal men, this cursed land would sometimes be visited by divine forces.

"Come back here Winter, do not be a fool," Autumn commanded. "Mortals can be foolish, but not us. We are primordial, divine. Whatever is in this pit, it is wicked."

"I sense a cold breathing out of the darkness," Winter mused to herself. "It calls out to me."

"The cold is nothing but the absence of warmth, much like how darkness is merely the absence of light," Summer yanked her sister back, pulling her arm. "Neither of these things exists, cold nor dark. Whatever is calling out to you is evil. The purest entity representing the absence of divinity."

"And what if it is an innocent calling for our help?" Winter snapped back. "I have protected this world for centuries from my own harsh power. If I do not shelter all from the cold, then I am a failure."

"Please, Winter," Spring begged. "Come home with us. I don't like it here. The air is heavy, and the dark clouds draw ever closer."

"Wait… shhh," said Autumn, "do you hear something?"

My beautiful flowers, how naïve you are.

The strange voice echoed inside their heads, ringing like a cosmic bell.

"You all hear it, too?" Spring asked nervously.

I brought you to this world for a purpose. Do your duty and return from this futile journey, back to where you belong.

"I know that voice…" Autumn covered her mouth in shock.

"Who is that?" Summer demanded, while being overwhelmed by fear and rage at the same time. "Tell us! What do you know?"

"I remember…" said Autumn, "the voice from Dream… he is a Lord of a world beyond this one. When we die… we return to his kingdom."

"Seasons don't die," said Summer. "We're divine!"

Do not be mistaken, my dear. Given enough time, the ages will pass and you will no longer have a purpose. You WILL return to the world outside worlds, to rest forevermore. Seasons are immortal, yet still only temporary. There are things that are more than immortal, things that are infinite, necessary. Observe!

Standing over the clouds, two massive titans clashed once more, crimson blade meeting demonic claws. Selfless act meeting hate crime.

The Seasons were deities so large the world of Remnant looked like a pebble next to their full power.

But these two clashing titans were beyond even the Seasons.

Their clash cracked the atmosphere, raining down time distortion, spatial anomalies. The Seasons did not have much power here in the dark realm of the black pit, but now they felt even more powerless with the clouds retreating altogether, and the rain evaporating into nothingness. Not even the bright sunshine could penetrate through this black cosmic void blocking out the power of Summer and Spring.

The black pit began to boil over like a wicked cauldron, black masses and oozing liquid crawling to the surface, emerging from the shadows the ancient carrion and bones of the era long gone. Spring hid behind her sisters Autumn and Summer, while Winter felt the calling even now as the space began to crack wide open and the black pit preparing to erupt with all its might.

"Winter, get back here!" Autumn commanded.

"Let's go home, Winter," Spring implored.

"Winter, NO!"

But it was too late.

The eruption could not be stopped, giving birth to a monstrosity so foul and heinous, no word existed to adequately describe the wickedness of this – Grimm creature. The very first of its kind. Shapeless, still bubbling with hidden power, and a hunger that could never be satisfied, a hatred that would never soothe.

Its first meal was one who it could call mother. A mistress so cold and yet so welcoming at the same time that the black blob began showing her its affection the only way it knew how, by absorbing her essence, so that they would be one. Her two sisters Summer and Spring tried to pull her cold fingers from the grasp of this being, but it was no use.

The beast's negative energy devoured too quickly and counteracted any sunlight power Summer and Spring could muster. Eventually, nothing remained of the two but a speck of the sun, sparkling away before disappearing, leaving no trace behind.

Only Autumn survived that day, living on to mourn her sisters.

It is written in the words of Destiny that this formless blob of rotten flesh will eventually evolve into something more definitive, more powerful perhaps, and most importantly – more aware. Especially through the power of stories, where myths and legends spread unchecked, and this primordial beast will gain power beyond comprehension.

For now, at its birth, it is still yet to be defined, so there is only one real word, one title that can adequately describe what this formless mass is.

And it must be called – Salem.

WHAT – IS – SALEM?

The Tale of the Virus:

25,000 years after the Fall of Beacon, and in this new age – that memory had become distant and forgotten. Insignificant to this modern world of new and powerful technology. The lands had long been cleansed of the plague once known as the creatures of Grimm.

But the damage could never be reversed.

Because people knew long ago that the mysterious dark monsters of these lands were not the only creatures to be wary of. Deep within the societies of men were also the monsters who would keep war among the men alive for as long as they deemed it necessary.

In some ways, even on the verge of extinction, the Grimm were still responsible for the death of mankind. Almost as a kind of cosmic vengeance.

The lands had been cleansed of the Grimm, it should've been a blessing to the soil. And yet all it brought was more fire and brimstone raining from the sky, cleansing what was left of humanity.

The four kingdoms were now at their limits, the end of their reigns. Only pockets of men remained, and with the power of the new technology, they sought to salvage the remnants of this dying world the only way they knew how – to finally, at last, begin their space exploration.

Four spaceships, four corners of the world, four kingdoms. These machines were to be the first to penetrate the upper clouds far in the heavens, something previously thought impossible on the account of Dust, a major energy resource of the world, being unusable once it leaves Remnant's atmosphere.

Angelo Watts was not a quitting man, however. Once a man had his sights set on accomplishing an impossible task, he will never stop until directly intervened by a force on high. He was a scientist, young, ambitious. Last surviving member of a powerful bloodline, many of whom lost their lives either to the wicked creatures of Grimm roaming these decrepit lands or the other monsters among the warring men.

Losing his family, however, did not deter him. Instead, it lit a fire of retribution within. If these monsters were to be the destruction of mankind, then he shall do everything in his power to use their very own essence as an instrument in ensuring humanity's survival.

"Grimm essence are pure liquid of negative energy," Angelo said to his colleagues, "right down to its molecular structure. It sustains the body of the monsters not to preserve their lives, no, no. Quite the opposite. There is a complicated pain matrix programmed right into the DNA of this virus here, its purpose has been alluding our ancestors for generations… until now."

"You mean… no… can it be?"

"Yes my friends, I have cracked the code. The pain matrix is a necessary component to encourage these monsters to go out there and do harm unto any living thing they could find, because the pain will not stop until everything is once again an empty void of nothingness. These monsters live only for one purpose and one purpose alone, they live to die."

"Yes, yes, that is brilliant. But how does it help us bring Dust out into space?"

"I'm glad you asked," Angelo smiled, "for you see, the emptiness, the void, the negative axis, negativity, anti-matter, whatever you want to call it, all of these things are characteristics of Grimm. They are the opposite of life, and these characteristics can certainly be compared to that of the vacuum of space, can it not? That is why Dust cannot be used in space, because there is no life in the void, nothing for the energy to latch onto. This pain matrix prevents it, explicitly! But what if… what if we can find a way to somehow reverse the function of the pain matrix to its opposite direction? I have studied the properties of the Grimm monsters all my life, but I have also been studying the properties of Dust as well. And what I've found is revolutionary, for you see – Dust has its own set of internal matrices as well."

"Incredible!"

"Yes, it's world-shattering isn't it?" Angelo laughed. "Compared side by side and these two sets of matrices almost seem to counteract each other some way, somehow, we don't know yet. What we do know is enough for me to propose a theory of the existence of the Life Matrices, the complete opposite to the Grimm's pain matrices."

"Amazing," said one of the scientists, "so it is Fated after all that throughout the entire history of humanity, we were all Destined to fight these negativity monsters with their complete opposite. That must be why Dust weaponries are so effective against these monsters."

"Fate or otherwise, this is a path," said Angelo. "A clear path for us in our space exploration. If we can just somehow figure out a way to extract from the Life Matrices an exponential amount of energy, maybe through nuclear fission as an example, we would have enough energy to counteract the empty void of outer space, because we would be using Dust to its absolute efficiency. Imagine being able to extract an entire kingdom's worth of energy from just a small sample of Dust, no bigger than the palm of my hand. With that much energy, we would be able to completely counteract the empty void of space before it could even counter the Dust with its own pain matrices."

"You are a brilliant scientist, Angelo my boy," said the Head Scientist, Professor Chrome Schnee. "You will make an excellent addition to our space program. This is a day for celebration."

And indeed it was.

But to be befitting of the title Master of Stories, I will show you all the extent of what I know. One single seed to be sown to move this speck of Cosmic Sand forward. How easy it is to cultivate conflict.

In the middle of the night, a stranger would visit Angelo Watts. A woman cloaked in a hood to hide her face and identity. She brought with her solemn news, one that was very important but disconcerting.

"No… no, no. What you just said is madness," said Angelo, still trying to process what he just heard. "It cannot be true."

"I have traveled far from the future, Mr. Watts," the woman pointed her pale finger at the man, "there is no escape into any space adventure. Only the suffering of the last sons of Remnant as they are fed to the remaining creatures of Grimm that still roam this earth. The space program is nothing but a lie, propagated by none other than the Head Scientist himself. A nihilist, who wishes death not only to himself, but to humanity."

"Liar! Time travel is impossible. You're just a crazy woman trying to disrupt my work."

To respond, the woman only produced a smile – one barely visible beneath her cloak – and inside her inner pocket a revolver. One adorned with all manners of decorative golden coils and carvings.

Angelo's eyes lit up the moment he saw the weapon. One he knew all too well.

"Where did you get that?" He snatched it from the woman's hand, while simultaneously reaching inside his pocket to produce a completely identical revolver.

There was no mistake about it.

"This is a family heirloom…" he dropped the revolvers, stumbling to the floor as his head spun a dizzy dance. "How did you…"

"This is all that remains of you, Angelo Watts – the last of your bloodline. I will repeat – I come from the future, and what I speak is truth. The fission process as you call it will not empower the Dust. The opposite in fact – it will assure that the Grimm will be able to incapacitate them. The Head Scientist saw to it himself."

"Angelo!" Professor Chrome cried, "Don't listen to this woman. She's lying to you. Look at me, boy. I said look at me DAMMIT! I have never failed you, you hear? I've always been good to you, you would do well to remember that."

"Professor…" Angelo muttered, on his knees. "Tell me it isn't true. Tell me… please… look me in the eyes… and tell me – it is not true. I'll believe you, whatever you say. Please… I lost my family, my father. Please, sir… I don't want to lose you, too."

Angelo had always had high hopes for humanity – even in places where he should not have. In the hearts of people like Professor Chrome. Whose lies were comforting enough for Angelo to believe in.

When facing the prospect of Armageddon, however, you would see that there was little reason to lie anymore, for the day of judgment drew nearer. To be judged fairly, Professor Chrome must tell the truth.

No reason to hide anymore:

"Remnant – so full of Grimm, misery, death, and pain. This is no way to live. Escaping these lands into the void of space is no real solution. Where would we go? How would we survive? What if the next planet we set foot on is another one exactly like Remnant here? What then? There is no use in this life anymore, my boy."

"No…"

"Dust are energy, life force…" said Chrome.

Part of what drives the Cosmic Sand.

"It can give," Chrome continued, "and it can take. On the screen are the launch codes for the remaining missiles we have left in the armory. Launching them into the stratosphere to have them come straight back down to these lands would be nothing short of cosmic poetry."

"Don't do it!"

"You cannot stop the inevitable, my boy. I'm sorry."

"NO!"

A blinding flash of light, giving Angelo images of a man in a cape, a king, a queen, a cabin, all of which seemed incomprehensible to him. But fact of the matter was, those were the final things he remembered before he lost consciousness, waking up in an ethereal void of lights and shapes his mind did not know how to process.

He thought he had died and had moved onto the afterlife, but he still felt a pulse of life within his ethereal body (if he could even call it a body anymore). It was faint, but the pulse was there.

"Am I… Dreaming?" He mused to himself. Floating in an endless sea of nothingness. "I feel… movements, or currents? The trickling of water, like a winding river. What is this? The ripples of time? Temporal shifts? If I put my hand over here on this part of the river, I can barely remember the events that led up to this, the memory of my mentor Chrome. But if I put my hand further back the river, I see it. The lecture hall, where the Professor stands in front of his adoring students, I am among them – my first day of that semester."

Glancing far beyond into a distance beyond distance, Angelo saw peculiar shapes moving backward the flow of this temporal river. Were they the missiles? Traveling through the lands, pass the peoples, the cultures, and far back into the past. The beginning – the origin.

Where there in an empty plain, a pit of infinite darkness would emerge from the blast, so black that no light could even enter and penetrate to the very bottom of wherever this was. From the fires of the missiles came the oozing of the negative essence – the first Grimm.

Dust could give, and Dust could take. Reversing the matrices programmed deep inside and you would change the very nature of whatever it was you were holding. In your hand a magical source of energy, now reversed into a virus that shall spread unchecked.

"That woman… the one who claimed to be from the future. Did she see this coming? Was this her goal after all? I remember the smile of the woman… a wicked smile… one of a pale… devilish woman. The woman – who would eventually crawl out of that black pit. And thus the cycle continues. Is there no point in this life? Is it purposeless?"

Look beyond over yonder.

Angelo complied, and there in the vast distance too far to calculate – two cosmic titans battled throughout this empty void. Ripples of their strikes could be felt here in this temporal river, disrupting the events from within. They fought in these ruins of the Dream Land, the ruins of architecture, of culture.

Here at the end of the line – the fight continued.