Book Two: Corruption's End
Chapter 78: Despite Herself
"Nothing happens on purpose. Nothing happens on accident." - Wind-Through-the-Valley, Inquisitorial Astropath.
After the Void-Whisper's harrowing escape from Ahriman, the mood within the alien ship had shifted dramatically. Chera was no witch like the Lady Inquisitor or that damnable Sergeant, but she could still sense the relief and exuberance that filled the xenos mariners. They walked with lighter steps, their expressions open and readable. Less guarded.
Darron was elated too, though he was even better at concealing his joy than the xeons. He'd saved her ass once more, one more tally in their endless game. What's the score again? Chera couldn't remember. She smiled, snuggling closer to her husband as he slept. He always put on a gruff and level-headed show for their comrades, but when he slept, she could read him with ease. His chest rose under her hand, steady and full. He slept peaceably and without worry, even though they were aboard an eldar ship.
He's relieved. Deducing that was child's play - twenty years of marriage had its perks, after all. When he woke, she'd debrief him on the Black Library. After what she'd seen there, however, her thoughts on where to begin struggled to progress beyond 'goddamn xenos bullshit'. At least he already knew the location of the Chariot. The important part. Everything else she saw…
The book.
The play.
That fucking book.
She still turned that damnable thing around in her mind, each word still rattling around in her brain. It was undoubtedly witchcraft, possibly lies, but she couldn't push the memory of it away. Darron should have been with me.
Why me? Why was I allowed on board?
It was clear she wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight. Shuffling her fatigues back on underneath the sleeping bag's covers, she slipped away from her husband's embrace. She wanted to return immediately, but her tossing and turning wouldn't have done him any good. He probably smoked every lho stick down to the last fiber. She smiled once more.
The cargo bay was quiet and dark, the lights dimmed in respect for the humans' sleep cycle. Without the Sergeant bouncing off the walls and pestering the assassin, it almost felt like their quarters back on the Scythe of Morning. All the xenos shit was becoming too familiar. It sickened her.
Yet Darron's judgement had pulled through - they knew the location of the Chariot. If it had been up to her, this… escapade would have ended in its infancy. She supposed that's why he was Captain, and she the Lieutenant.
Chera stalked the halls of the Void-Whisper, its serenity and calm no longer quite so oppressive. A few mariners flitted about, their black robes rustling quietly as they flowed through the ship.
She realized her feet were taking her to the medbay a mere minute before she arrived there. What was she seeking? She knew the war-party had made it through alive. Injured (severely in some cases), but alive. A restless mind is a bed for heresy, she recited, the words bringing her no comfort.
It will be good to be aboard the Scythe of Morning again. Even if... the photo flashed through her mind once again. Even if I must speak with my Lady. A fantastic, ridiculous tale, but she knew the truth of it in her heart.
The medbay was still, its occupants resting undisturbed. It would have been silent, if not for the Sergeant's abrasive snoring. She slept next to the assassin, her back resting against his bed. Naive, vainglorious fool.
Chera had been prepared to abandon the assassin - one of the Imperium's most powerful assets - on little more than a whim. Yet Xiao Long had charged in without a second thought, a war-cry on her lips and blood in her eyes. And Emperor, the way she fought. Daemons ripped apart with her bare hands, disemboweled, crushed beneath the heel of her boot. All for her friend.
Did the Chariot blind me to what matters? Chera thought, slipping away from the medbay. If it had been one of her kin, she would have been right beside Yang, hellgun blaring, Cadia's name on her lips, Kasr Kraf's glory writ triumphant on the corpses of daemons.
Too many fucking questions these days.
She sighed, hoping to return to the cargo bay.
Instead, Pyrrha and her xenos husband blocked the way. He pushed her along in an elegant wheelchair, red jewels sitting underneath her shrivelled palms. After her efforts to repel Ahriman, she was little more than a husk, every trace of the power that thrummed within her vanished.
"Lady Lieutenant," Caelus said politely. Pyrrha shifted her head at the sound of his voice, unseeing eyes blinking.
"Lady Chera," the old woman croaked. "What has sent you wandering in the night?"
"We need to talk," Chera said, before she could stop herself.
"Hmm?" Pyrrha said. "Oh yes, we should. A splendid idea," she smiled warmly, patting her husband's hand as it lighted on her shoulder. "Leave us for a few minutes would you? We wives must gossip."
Caelus nodded, pressing a gentle kiss upon her snow-white hair that looked like the Lady's.
Weiss'.
"Would you mind?" Pyrrha asked. "My wheelchair, I mean. I needed to be out of the medbay. Taste slightly less sterile air."
Chera said nothing, pushing the chair along dutifully.
"Ah. Thank you," Pyrrha said. "We never did get to finish our discussion on board the Black Library."
"That was no discussion," Chera said, "that was an interrogation. I served an Inquisitor for twenty years, I know what they look like."
At that, the ancient woman sighed. "I suppose it was. I suppose you do. Weiss Schnee, the Lady Inquisitor…" she shook her head, grief and age weighing heavily upon her shoulders. "Is she well?"
"Not as of late," Chera replied. "Not since Sergeant Xiao Long appeared. I'm surprised you care."
"As am I," Pyrrha said, leaning back as they passed a pair of medics discussing some new data. "I knew Yang for all of six years. I knew Weiss for thirty-two. I have lived years many times beyond that number. Remnant feels so distant. I am… so old, Chera. No human deserves to live this long."
"Yet you still care," Chera said.
"Yes. They were my friends. Some of my very first."
"I still remember all of my men," Chera admitted. "Every cadet, every comrade under my command. I don't think I would forget them either."
"You share something special with them," Pyrrha agreed, nodding slightly. "Your love for your husband and your soldiers... ah. I am sorry." She paused, blank eyes shimmering. "All too obvious the moment I saw you. I had a human husband once. So many years ago."
"Jaune," Chera said, memory serving her well.
"Yes. We were little more than children when we met. In over our heads."
A slight chuckle escaped Chera before she could stifle it. "We were children too. Barely six standard years."
"Love at first sight?"
"I punched him in the face. He was being a sobby little bitch. Didn't want to leave his mommy." She smiled, the memories returning to her. It had been years since she last recalled them. "He got me in the gut, knocked the wind out of me. Still crying, but he was so fuckin' mad." She grinned despite herself. "Emperor, how we hated each other. Managed to land in the same boot class. Same whiteshield regiment. At each other's throats constantly."
"Love at first sight." Pyrrha repeated, smiling.
"Absolutely," Chera said. "Took us a while to realize it, but we got there eventually." She still remembered that night. The Eye of Terror pulsed slowly in the sky, the spires of Kasr Kraf pushing against it. They'd snuck out of the whiteshield barracks, hoping for some sparring sessions away from Drill-Abbot Fhar. Their bodies black and blue from the day's training, the way Darron's eyes lit up, a purple more radiant than the wound in reality that shone above. The way his lips felt as they glided over her skin.
It was still so clear, decades later.
"What fools are we, those who love," Pyrrha said.
"You loved a xenos," Chera reminded her.
"I do."
"Do you understand what it means to abide by the eldar?" Chera asked, pushing the blissful memories down, willing them away in a spike of righteous anger. "Especially those who consort so openly with Commorragh?"
Pyrrha said nothing.
"Don't think I have forgotten your words to me," Chera continued. "Would you still like an answer to your question? I know you merely wanted to rouse me to anger and confusion, but I think I have one at last."
"Please," Pyrrha said.
"You… allowed us the location of the Chariot," Chera began. "And your family stood with me in battle. Neither are things I take lightly. But don't think for a moment that I trust them. Or you. I know very little beyond war and duty, but I know you are not as blameless as you think. No survives in this galaxy without washing their hands in the blood of the innocent. Bathing in it. This is not a choice. The Imperium is built on sacrifice - something you have never done. So to answer your question, Pyrrha, no. You aren't my enemy. I resent the path you chose, but I pray it could have been another. I wish you could have seen the Emperor's light." Like my Lady.
Pyrrha sighed. "You are an uncommon sort, Lieutenant Marius. On Remnant, I lacked for nothing. Talent, renown, wealth, a loving husband, wonderful children. I worked hard to earn them, of course, but I never lost. I was always the Champion. Perhaps that is why I cannot fathom the Imperium, nor stand behind it. Why I felt so little as I murdered its benighted citizens. Why I never saw the Emperor's grace." She ran her hands along her foreign weapon, every edge and notch known to her. "My life is nearing its end. My ultimate fate is unknown - perhaps my soul will join my daughter's in the Infinity Circuit. Perhaps the Emperor will pity me, and call me to his side. Perhaps I will return to Remnant, reunited with my first beloved. Perhaps a darker fate awaits me. For the first time, I simply do not know. It is a terrible thing, to know fear."
"But it's human," Chera said.
"Yes," Pyrrha said. "So very human." She turned around to smile at the kasrkin lieutenant. "But I have sacrificed one thing - I have traded what little life remains within me to protect this vessel and those aboard it. My premature death will severely delay a day of great reckoning. Please," she said, laying a hand on Chera's own. "Please don't let them waste it. Human or eldar."
"I won't," Chera said, biting down the pity that swelled within her, a spate of weakness.
In another life, Chera thought as she pushed Pyrrha's chair back to her husband, we might have been friends. In another life, they could have served the Emperor with unparalleled distinction, or lived simple, uncomplicated lives on Remnant. No chaos. No eldar. A part of Chera wondered what that would be like.
She decided she was better off not knowing. The way things ended up suited her just fine. Fuck it. And fuck that awful book.
Darron awaited her in the cargo bay.
Yang snorted awake, startled by her sudden return to consciousness. The last thing she remembered was sitting by Amat's side as Darron worked his magic, relief flooding her very soul. A quick glance confirmed that she was still in the medbay, sitting next to her friend. Even though the assassin wasn't in too much pain and could easily obtain a replacement limb, she had sat by his side regardless.
The blankets that kept him warm had fallen while he'd slept, hanging loose against his shoulders. Gently, she returned them to their place around his neck. For the first time since she met him, he slept. No meditation, no painting, no trance. She took his hand in hers with a broad smile.
And the realization struck her as hard as a traitor marine.
She swallowed, the thought pounding through her. It was always there. You just didn't want to think about it. You pushed it aside, pretended he was just a good friend, pretended you didn't want anything more. Pretended you didn't grab for his hand on Gartenwald and hope against hope he'd do the same. Ignoring what you felt once he had.
Her forehead collided with Amat's bed, her hands running through her hair. "Fuuuuck," she said softly, to no one but herself. Now that she'd given the thought a voice, it wouldn't go away. She liked him. She wanted him. She never wanted him to leave her side. The Imperium was scary and grim and dark, but it was so much brighter when he was around.
A part of her wanted to be happy. On Remnant, she'd never found someone she could connect with romantically. Here, against all expectations, she had found someone. A terrifying prospect - Amat was now a liability. If something happened to him… she shook her head. The horror she'd wrought on Uriel would be magnified a thousandfold if she lost him. Every inch of progress she'd made towards repelling chaos would vanish, and the Blood God would have a clean, vengeful canvas to paint upon.
Nausea crept into her stomach, boiling and ulcerous.
She crept out of the medbay. I can't think like that. I've learned since then. Plus, this isn't a big deal! A crush is a crush, it'll pass in time. Like they always did.
"Fuck, man." Yang said. She knew a lie when she heard one. One of Maion's dark-armored comrades passed by, his eyebrows raised at Yang's plight. She let him be. There was too much to think about.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let this happen? He's supposed to kill me!
Yet he hadn't. Instead, he'd smiled, a slight twitch of the lips before placid nothingness retook him. She was the one who made him laugh, who broke his shell, who comforted him, who held him when he was distraught, and was held in turn.
He was her friend.
This shit was complicated enough. The fact that it happened in the Imperium of all places just made everything worse. Better. Why now?
She smiled despite herself - if Ruby could see her now, she'd laugh the roses off her ass. She'd wanted to do the same for Ruby, let her find someone, be happy, grow up. But they never got that chance - they were stuck with the fate they were given. Ruby sacrificed herself to kill Salem, and Yang was destined to grieve. To die, to arrive here, to meet the Woadians, to find Weiss, to find Amat.
What is this, Signal? Yang thought with a huff. I'm twenty-three. I should be able to handle my shit better than this. I beat up traitor marines and visit eldritch alien clown carnivals as a vacation.
You like Amat. So what?
Because it was suddenly all so fucking personal.
She sighed, realizing she was at the door to Garnet's lair. Shrugging, she entered, the doors parting to admit her. Garnet was meditating within, surrounded by the stars of Remnant. He looked weak. Ghostly. As if his soul clung to him by its fingernails.
"Hey man," she said.
"Greetings," Garnet said a moment later, his eyes opening wide. They were no longer silver, but a pure, dark black. Their true color, most like. "Something weighs upon your mind," he added immediately.
"I was hoping I hid it better than that," Yang said, sitting. "I realized I... have a thing for Amat," she said after a moment's hesitation. Everything felt real once she'd spoken it aloud. Final.
"Your tone implies you have not shared this fact with him," Garnet said. "Hardly sounds like the Yang I grew up hearing about."
She grinned. "Yeah, you got me. It's just… tough you know? I thought I was already dealing with enough, trying to juggle Weiss and Ruby and the Chariot. Not to mention you and your crazy family."
Garnet smiled. "You will tell him then?"
"Of course," Yang said. "Scared to," she admitted with a sigh. "Being his friend… it's the last thing I want to fuck up. But that's not what I'm worried about most. If he feels the same way, can he still kill me? What if this is more than just some crush? I don't know if I could handle that. Your training's only so good, after all."
"Such cruelty," Garnet said, wearing an uneasy grin. "I have done what I can," he added, pulling out the brain box. He accessed it, opening some pleasant memories - snapshots from the first few weeks at Beacon. Laughter and friendly sparring filling the halls, distant airships floating lazily on the breeze, all of Vale at peace, quiet and still. "Things were simpler then."
"Yeah," Yang said, heart pressing against her ribs. The images were almost too painful to look at. Almost.
"Do you know why Ruby was always my favorite?"
"Because she was awesome?" Yang asked.
"Well yes, but also because she was… simple."
"Careful," Yang said, eyes narrowing. Garnet merely chuckled.
"You know what I mean. An ember burned in her heart. A torch that blazed against the darkness poisoning Remnant. It wavered occasionally, but the flame persisted. The only thing she wanted was for everyone to be safe. Happy. I don't think she knew that her goal was impossible. Even if she did, she never let it burden her."
"She was strong," Yang concurred quietly. Proudly.
"Yes," Garnet answered. "And do you know where she got her strength? Her determination?"
"Mom." Yang said immediately.
"You. She wanted to look after everyone the way you looked after her."
Yang's swallowed, throat working. "I… I wanted it to be Mom," she said, her voice small.
"As I said, Ruby approached the matter with a charming simplicity. A luxury when compared to our current situation. But an admirable one. She looked for guidance, and she saw you."
"I'm not... " Yang started, before trailing off. "I just wanted her to be happy. I never wanted that kind of responsibility."
Garnet huffed. "No one does. Yet you had it regardless. You have it now."
Yang sighed again, her lip quivering. "I know. I just… I hope I'm ready for whatever comes next. I don't want to fail anyone like I failed Ruby." And Ros. And so many others.
"You did not fail, Yang. Though I was not privy to her last moments, I believe she died doing the one thing she loved most, surrounded by her loved ones."
"I…" Yang stopped, wiping away the brine that pooled in the corner of her eyes. Gently, she retrieved the brain box, and closed her eyes. Without ceremony, without regret, she upended her memories of the battle with Salem into it.
Unflinching. Unsparing.
Violence burst to the forefront of her mind. A vicious, unearthly snarl. Broken fingers, each one swollen black, ground into powder as she hammered at Salem's defenses, each blow bringing forth a lance of agony.
Salem.
A red-white wraith that glided across the earth, black spears of dust and metal bursting into being at a mere wave of her hand. And the laughter. It was endless, endless, endless, haughty and unrelenting.
Blake whimpered as her femur shattered, a thousand gashes in her sides, her ears notched and weeping blood. Weiss mewled in agony as she shuffled across the floor, both arms broken and limp at the elbow, snow-white juts of bone protruding from her lacerated skin.
Only Yang and Ruby stood against the primeval monster, the Mother of Grimm. And they were losing. Battle weary. Broken. The screams of agony issuing from their comrades too much to bear.
Yet they could not rest. They could not waver. Their auras had shattered long ago, only raw strength and speed keeping them alive. Her leg wasn't working. A red blade of dust had pierced it, and now it wouldn't cooperate.
This was it - there would be no reinforcements. JNPR fought Salem's army, but as their battle raged without, Yang knew with a stab of panic that they too would die. Once they were all dead, Salem would win. Remnant would burn.
Another flash of pain shattered Yang's kneecap, bone fragments slicing through muscle and sinew.
She fell.
It felt like forever. The floor was cold, yet the blood that streaked it was not, freshly torn from its owners.
Only Ruby stood now, her scream of agony and desperation and panic issuing out across the throne room. Salem's laughter did not cease. Yang's fingers slipped on the tile as she tried to crawl forward, streaking gore across the room. A single thought pierced through the haze of agony - Ruby stood alone, and she was going to die.
No.
no no no no no no no no no no
This wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't how it was supposed to go, this wasn't right this was a nightmare a bad one a really bad one it had to be, had to be, had to be.
Weiss rose to her feet, arms swaying uselessly. "RUBY!" She shrieked.
Ruby's eyes flickered silver, and she charged Salem, ignoring her team's warnings.
Her face was serene.
"No!" Yang screamed. Again and again and again and again. She tried to stand, to stop what was coming, but she couldn't. She wasn't strong enough.
Salem's arm pierced Ruby's stomach, ripping through to the other side, a bone-white fist clenching a handful of meat and organs.
Yang could no longer scream, only weep and feebly paw at the bloodsoaked ground.
But Ruby was not dead. Not yet.
Crescent Rose arced through the air one final time, taking the top half of Salem's head along with it. Ruby slumped to the ground as Salem's form crumbled into ash, her wound erupting in a fountain of blood.
Blackness. A gap. Ruby was in her arms now. Eyes fluttering, soul departing.
"No, please don't go Ruby, please no."
"It's okay Yang," Ruby croaked, lungs shredded, body failing as it was wracked with tremors. "Shh," she cooed, "Shh. C'mon. Let me... see that smile of yours."
"No, please," Yang whimpered, pain forgotten. "You can't," she pleaded. "I love you so much."
But Ruby had already said her last, so Yang obeyed her sister. She smiled for her.
And then Ruby was gone.
The Void-Whisper returned by inches, fading into reality. Garnet's eyes had flooded over, and shining tears spilled down his cheeks. "I had… no idea," he said. "Mother only showed me the aftermath. I… I… I am sorry Yang. Truly sorry."
"It's okay," Yang said. The emotions from that night lingered on, revisitation ripping them wide open. Weeping and sore. But it was okay. Though she wept alongside Pyrrha's son, she had looked upon her greatest failure without flinching. Without self-pity and spikes of pain spearing her heart.
"She was a hero to the end," Garnet said.
"She was," Yang said. "And I didn't learn from her sacrifice until now. When I was almost overwhelmed rescuing Amat, I realized… I realized that I had thrown away everything just to see him again. To spare myself another soul on my conscience. I endangered billions out of my own weakness. Ruby saw the same thing. She knew what her death would do to us. But she did it anyway. She made the right choice, and I see that now. Weiss was trying to tell me this whole time, and I just didn't get it."
"But you survived," Garnet said.
"This time," Yang replied, wiping her tears away. "We got lucky. I'm so relieved, but at the same time, I know it could've have gone much worse. I'm sorry, Garnet. I'm sorry I put you all in danger."
"If our positions were reversed," he replied. "If it were any of my siblings or my darling Lyllawyth, I would have done the same. Of all the Tou'Her, Yang, I have the poorest impulse control. It nearly led me to damnation. Yet instead I chose Il-Kaithe and the Path of the Seer. Even as I tread upon it, I am slowly realizing that even the wisest Farseer cannot truly weave the strings of fate." He chuckled. "I believe we are more alike than we realize."
Yang embraced him, a hug that wholly enveloped the wilting warlock. Garnet leaned into it, lighting his hand upon her back in a manner much like his mother.
"Thanks Garnet. For everything."
"It will mean nothing if you wallow, if you do not grow," he said, pulling apart with a wan smile. "A lesson I learned at a dark price. I was young once, and I wandered alone."
"You're an old man now," Yang joked. "But you're where you want to be. I might be a lowly mon'keigh, but I can see that clearly enough."
"Perhaps," Garnet said.
Yang tossed him the brain box, matching his grin. "I'm all done with this, I think."
"I agree. Your education is far from complete, but I have done what I can. Now it is up to you." Gingerly, he tucked the brain box away into his robes, producing another one with his other hand. "A copy of the stars of Remnant, as promised."
"Appreciate it," she said, pocketing the device.
"It was an interesting experience, Yang Xiao Long. I never anticipated making your acquaintance, but it met my expectations quite handily."
"Hey," Yang said, "Keep that up and I'll crack you across the jaw. Again."
Garnet laughed. "Please refrain - if Lyllawyth and I are blessed with children, they will be born with bruised jaws. I would rather not relive the experience."
For that, she punched his shoulder instead.
Yang returned to the medbay, a faint smile on her face. Blood-stained memories lingered in the back of her mind, but lingering was all that they managed. The decision she'd made on Uriel finally began to feel… real. Progress. It had almost come at a steep cost, but she had emerged victorious.
Her smile died the instant the medbay doors opened.
Amat's peaceful sleep had been replaced with frenzied thrashing, a deluge of sweat beading his brow, agony ruling his features. He was still unconscious, but she could taste his nightmares, feel them lap at the edges of her soul.
She clasped her shoulder, which burned a dull and smoldering gold.
"No."
A/N: I'll let this chapter speak for itself. I hope you enjoyed it! The response to the last chapter was truly heartening, and I'm so glad I'm posting again. It feels great being able to share more of this story with you.
Next time, we'll be having a look back at what Weiss is up to...