WARNING: this story is as bleak and dark as a blast crater. It is a vision of despair. I do not celebrate or endorse any of it, but it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it out of my head. Turn back now.
"And so, the chase ends."
The silver light and grimm ash from Ruby's latest impossible triumph hadn't even fully faded before that smooth, honeyed voice came from behind Yang. She spun on the spot, and saw Ruby do the same in her peripheral vision.
Salem strode along the shore of the grimm pools. The witch wasn't even breathing hard, like pursuing them from the rout at her castle had cost her nothing.
"This is the end," she said, with no hint of remorse or regret or any human emotion. The bubbling pool by her feet was more expressive.
Ruby was wiping her eyes, which she'd badly overtaxed. It had taken all she had to call upon them one more time just now. Yang knew she needed a moment to regroup; knew, below thought, the only way she could buy Ruby that moment.
She charged Salem.
Yang had spent the last of her ammunition long ago. The remains of her shattered prosthetic hung limply by her side. Her Aura was gone, with no hopes of recovering it, not with slashes across her chest and thighs that needed healing. But she still had a fist and she still had fury, and she flung those things at Salem's face.
Salem gave her a single glance of utter contempt, and a single flicking gesture.
The world spun. Yang was tumbling, her vision smearing to nonsense. Somewhere along the way she hit the ground, but it took her a few seconds to realize she'd stopped moving. Roaring, she put her working hand under her to lever her up.
An infernal rune sprung into being below her. Grimm hands erupted from it, lashing her down, tearing into her exposed flesh and slamming her against the rocky ground.
"Yang!" Ruby screamed. As Yang looked up, Ruby shook her head, blinking rapidly, her face scrunched up in vain concentration.
"None of that," Salem said dismissively. A whip-like string of multicolored energy flared to life in her palm. It hit Ruby's chest faster than the eye could follow. There was a crack and a scream, and Ruby fell backwards, her clothing scorched and smoking.
"Ruby!" Yang strained against the grasping hands that bound her still, but she made no headway; they were too strong, and she was exhausted. The fire that raged inside her had burnt out. There was nothing left. They'd given everything. They all had. She couldn't move as Salem reached out with her whip, grabbed Ruby's ankle, and suspended her in the air by it, facing away from her.
"Let's keep those pointed in a safer direction," Salem said, as mildly as if she was rearranging furniture. She drew Ruby towards her. Crescent Rose fell from Ruby's hands, the drained woman unable to hold on to it any longer. The running battle across Evernight had taken every bullet, every grain of Dust, every spark of Aura, every trick and technique and team attack and desperation move in Team RWBY's arsenal.
And here they were, the final two members of the counter-attack that had been humanity's last, best hope, one pinned in place, the other dangling in Salem's grip like a fish on the line.
For a moment, the despair at the idea of Team RWBY—an idea that was stone dead now—threatened to drag Yang down like those damn grimm hands. She shook her head and refocused on Ruby. There was still a chance, still something they could do, that Yang could do. She dug deep, trying to unearth any reserve of strength, any breath she'd caught in this brief moment, looking for anything she could get.
She surged against the hands again. They kept her down, but they had to strain to do it; Yang thought she heard them creak, imagined they were struggling to contain her.
Salem's gaze, which had seemed pleased as she observed Ruby's limp form, swept towards Yang and lost its good humor. "Are you still trying to break free?"
"Let go of my sister," Yang said hotly in between heaving breaths.
Salem's eyes narrowed in irritation. "You still have hope," she said, as if that were a demerit. "You still think you can win."
No, not win, Yang knew—this day couldn't possibly be called a victory—but if Ruby could get away, if Ruby could survive, they still had a chance. They always did, with Ruby on their side.
Yang realized she'd been looking at Ruby too long. Salem's eyes followed her line of sight. The witch huffed. "So your hopes lie with her, then. I find that emotion quite distasteful. Hope," she spat, as if the word was foul in her mouth.
Salem's eyes shone red as she looked at Yang. "I would see that hope extinguished," she said.
She raised her spare hand into a fist.
Pain exploded in Yang's stomach. Something had stabbed into her, and it wasn't leaving, it was stuck there. Salem glanced at Ruby long enough to murmur something profane. A shimmer enveloped Ruby for a moment—not her Aura, it was the wrong color—before fading.
Returning her gaze to Yang, Salem twitched her hand, and threw Ruby into the Pool of Annihilation.
"Ruby!" Yang screamed. Ruby had never been a strong swimmer in water, never mind when she was dead on her feet in a pool of pure destruction. She needed help, she needed saving…
Like a miracle, the hands holding Yang in place withdrew, all except one. The one buried in her gut remained. Yang could almost feel its fingers holding on to her insides.
"Go on," Salem prompted, looking down at Yang imperiously. "You want to help her, don't you?"
Of course Yang did. She knew what it would cost her, knew what would happen to her if she tried to move with that hand holding on like that. Salem was mocking her, she could see it on the witch's face. She didn't think Yang could do it, or would do it.
It showed how little she knew. To save Ruby, Yang would do anything.
Ruby was frantically splashing and thrashing in the pool, gasping in breaths.
Yang put her one good arm in front of her and heaved forward.
The pain was blinding. Her strength abandoned her, the strength she'd relied on for so long, that she'd always been willing to share because she'd had it in such abundance. No, no, no, damn it, not now, not when I need you!
Fueled by spite, Yang dragged herself forward again.
Through the haze of pain, from a million miles away, Salem's voice floated towards her. "I expected no less. You were all so very bold. You were bold enough to strike Evernight itself. True, that was the only path to victory left after I razed your kingdoms and slaughtered your armies, but few would have the courage and strength to try what you tried."
Somehow, Salem made all of that sound like an insult, like Yang was wrong for all of that. Yang didn't care. She didn't care. Ruby needed her. This was her life. This had always been her life: keeping her little sister—and the light of the world, sure, but her sister first of all—as safe as she could manage. She threw herself forward again, felt that odd, perverse emptying sensation in her belly as she left her entrails behind. Weakness overcame her when she'd moved all too little.
She knew on a distant level that she was bleeding out. Soon she wouldn't be able to move. Didn't matter. She knew how this would end, just as Weiss had known—just as Blake had known—
She would have cried if her body had the energy or water to spare. Instead she screamed as she dragged herself forward again.
"Not that it means anything, in the end," Salem continued blithely. If Yang could have punched her mouth shut… but no, of course she couldn't, and the witch could just ramble on. "Nothing does, you see. Bravery, selflessness, justice, faith, hope, love—what are they, in the end, when everything still turns to ash? What good do you do when you save someone who eventually dies anyway? If you give them another day, another week, another year, another decade… they still die. They still return to dust and sorrow."
Where did Salem get off talking about suffering when it was Yang smearing her intestines across the rocks? Well, fuck her anyway, Yang had bigger problems.
She tried to gather a leg under her to push, but her legs didn't seem to want to work. Oh, right—you needed abdominals to help move your legs, and her abs were torn open. Her arm was on fire from moving her whole weight, but she threw it forward again, gained another few feet. Getting there. Ruby's hands were still flailing in the pool, her head was still bobbing in the black, a point of light in the darkness. Yang could still make it in time.
"And what does a longer life get people? What good is there in that? None. Nothing. It gives people more time to suffer, more people to lose, more ways to fail. Life is sorrow and pain and it always, always ends the same way. And you… you and your little friends would condemn people to that. You would force more agony on people in the name of saving them."
Yang had to get to Ruby. With Ruby they had a chance. It was slim, but it was real. If she could help Ruby out of the pool, maybe Ruby could find it in herself to take one more silver eyes shot. It wouldn't kill Salem, but it would drive her off and let Ruby escape.
If she could escape, this wasn't over. This wasn't the end, it was just a setback. Ruby could hobble her way back to the wreck of their airship. There were medical supplies and emergency rations on-board, and with her Aura devoted to healing she'd give the grimm nothing to track, and she was good at suppressing her negativity. She could survive until she was ready to move, and then she could…
Well, sure, it was a long way from the coast, a long way out of the Grimmlands from here, but if anyone could make it, Ruby could. Ruby could do it, as long as Yang could bail her out here…
This was the gift Ruby had given Yang: the ability to see the way to victory and keep chasing it, no matter how treacherous the path, no matter how slim the odds. If there was a way, she could see it and keep her eyes on it.
The next surge of Yang's body almost made her black out.
"If life is suffering, then granting more life is a curse. All humanity will die eventually. Whether they wipe themselves out, get eaten by the grimm, or so ruin the planet it can't support them anymore, it will happen. Nothing that happens in the meantime amounts to anything, means anything, accomplishes anything. You're all just ants trying to hold back a flood. And you just won't… stop… trying!"
Ruby's splashes were less frequent now, less energetic. She was drowning in the pool. Yang was running out of time, but she was also running out of life. Which would empty first?
Didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as she could save Ruby. Ruby had to live. Unable to muster a grunt, Yang moved two more arm-lengths closer to the pool before the pain overwhelmed her again and her arm gave out.
"Even when you're just bringing down more suffering. On yourselves, on others." Salem moved towards the pool, heels click-clicking against the lifeless stone. "How many of your friends and loved ones have pointlessly died? How much agony have you suffered from trying to resist, and seeing them fall? Like your mother, for example."
No, no, no, Yang didn't want to hear this, she had to save Ruby, focus on that, everything on that, on the hand still splashing in the pool, still keeping Ruby up enough to steal breaths. Another surge. Another few inches.
"You'd think your mother's example would have taught you something, but you learned the reverse. And what did that get you? Everything you've tried to protect has burned. Everyone you loved has died in horrible, screaming agony. Friends… family…" Salem's voice became one of sinister pleasure. "Lovers."
Yang cried out and thrashed her way forward, even if that cost her more blood, more precious life. She could block out the emotional pain with physical pain, she could flood her senses with agony so that she couldn't hear that witch…
"A pretty little thing, that Faunus lover of yours. My grimm are gorging themselves on her corpse. Not because they even need to eat, oh no, just for the pleasure of rending and tearing that sweet, soft flesh. She was still alive when they started, you know."
On fire with anguish, Yang pushed herself forward one more time. The edge of the pool was so close, but so far away. Yang reached out, trying to get any handhold to pull, anything to help her move, but it was all sterile rock, rough enough to tear her fingers without yielding any handholds. Yang tried to find something, anything to power her forward, but there was nothing. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. Her vision was swimming.
She couldn't see Ruby's hands. She couldn't see-!
"Compared to that, the return of the gods is a blessing. They promise instant, painless release. One flash and it's all over. No more pain. No more suffering. No more despair. No more having to pretend that life means something. Just… the end.
"I can't wait."
Yang twisted her body, wriggling forward like a worm on pavement, tearing herself further open with every motion. There was the edge, but she couldn't pull herself any further. She reached out as far as she could. Her arm was over the precipice, now, in reach of where Ruby had been splashing.
She tried to shout, but she didn't even have the strength for that. "Ruby," she croaked. "Ruby, grab my hand. You can…" Yang shuddered; she felt cold, all of a sudden, and she'd always run hot. "You can make it. Use my hand."
"Oh, yes," cooed Salem. "By all means, Ruby. Take your sister's hand."
Something grabbed on to Yang.
It was not Ruby's strong, calloused hand. It was somehow both wet and searing. Yang gasped in fresh agony. It felt like her hand was dissolving; she'd rather have it cut off than endure that.
Then her arm was being used for leverage, as something pulled its way out of the pool.
She saw Ruby's face, and she dared to hope—but it was all wrong. Ruby's eyes were dull, faint, clouded. All around her was her hood, except that wasn't her hood, because her hood was red cloth, and this was black and churning and dripping and surging and…
Another pull; Yang's hand hissed as it melted. Yang tried to scream and failed. Ruby's head raised further, but what was under and around it wasn't normal, wasn't natural: it was all black goop that seemed to be forever dripping down without ever losing volume. It pulled further forward, out of the pools, closer to and over Yang. Ruby's head lolled forwards limply.
"Ruby!" hissed Yang, trying to wake her sister up, make her respond...
Ruby's head raised the slightest amount; there was a momentary tension in her forehead that could have been recognition. Before anything could come of it, the black sludge was crawling and writhing its way up her neck, around the perimeter of her skull, enveloping her hair, creeping over her chin, almost like she was still drowning in the pool, like the pool was following her to try and finish the job. The exposed skin of Ruby's face seemed paler than ever against the black backdrop that was swallowing her up.
"Ya—" Ruby began, but then the sludge passed over her mouth, gluing it shut. Ruby's face was sinking beneath the tide. She jolted for a moment; the spark returned to her eyes long enough to betray panic. A muffled yell came from her sealed mouth. Then, with a final effort, the sludge crashed forward over the rest of her face.
"Ruby!" breathed Yang, unable to muster any volume, unable to put any strength behind the scream. "Ruby… no…"
The sludge, the black essence of destruction, swirled formlessly where Ruby's head had been… for a moment. Then, before Yang's horrified eyes, it began to distend. It extended out towards Yang, elongating as it went, taking on firmer dimensions. Its surface began to solidify and take on a definite shape.
A muzzle.
The muzzle thrashed for a moment, as if in pain, before bleached-white bone forced itself out from the black mass, ejecting sludge like blood spatters. A line formed in the middle of the muzzle, along its horizontal centerline. With effort, the muzzle strained and split apart, taking the form of a gaping canine maw. It took its first, rattling breath. Its exhale washed over Yang. It smelled like asphalt and hatred.
Ruby Rose lived, but Yang had not saved her.
Yang sobbed.
"There it is," cooed Salem approvingly. "There is the death of your hope. At last you know the pain of living. You would have rather Ruby died than become grimm, wouldn't you?"
Answering was impossible. Yang had drowned. Her heart was beating, but it had shattered. She was breathing, but she was dead.
"That's what I thought. You've done well for me, giving up at last. I am merciful to those who surrender. Ruby, why don't you show your dear sister my mercy?"
The Hound's open maw shook and quivered; it grunted and writhed in pain. After unbearable seconds, teeth tore their way through its skin, erupting in a shower of black goo as they ripped their way into place in the Hound's mouth—so many, many large teeth.
The Hound worked its jaws around until there was a crack as bone slid into place. Its attention went to Yang, as if for the first time.
It lunged.
The jaws snapped shut.