This was all a cruel joke. For as long as Salem could ever remember, her attempts to free herself of the Brother Gods and their vile curse have resulted in failure, but this latest one may have been her worst setback yet, for she now carried with her a permanent reminder. Her right hand, with her now partial thumb and her two main fingers now reduced to bone, would never leave her. Even if she were to completely snap her bony appendages off, they would regenerate, but without flesh and blood. The irony of the situation is that her curse was meant to preserve her life, only to now "preserve" her injury along with it. That's what made it, and the gods' decree, a joke.
The concept of defying the will of the gods was nothing new to Salem. She had tricked them once, so long ago; nearly turning them against each other in her quest to have her love back in her arms. And what was the punishment for the "crime" of seeing Ozma again? To be forever separated from him for "as long as the world turns," but even that wasn't enough for them. Even being left alone in a dead world after her failed attempt to rebel against the gods wasn't enough for them, for they had the cruel habit of taking everything from her that was rightfully hers.
Just as the God of Light once chose her dear Ozma to be his champion, so did the God of Darkness choose her Reaper, or more appropriately, her Harbinger to be his. It was she who fell in love with him after enduring a childhood of isolation at the hands of the cruel father that locked her away in that tower. It was she that devoted year after year of her eternity guiding the Grimm that their so-called "rightful god" abandoned. It was she who spent countless nights studying the Grimm, understanding human nature, and rejecting the petty notions of morality that held the latter back. And it was that uncompromising will that created what should have been the perfect soldier; a being that dear Ozma once foolishly rejected because he valued the lives of mere heretics.
Her Harbinger; a creation that surpassed anything the gods had ever created, for it alone could truly snuff out light like no other Grimm could. What started out as an experiment from her days ruling over a Kingdom with Ozma was now the living testament that she and she alone understood both human and Grimm nature, and how to bend both to her will. And what was her reward for her long years of patience and hard work? To be betrayed by her own creation, so that it may serve the will of a god just as Ozma once did long ago.
"You thought there was no greater punishment we could bestow upon you?"
That was the question that the God of Darkness once asked her, so long ago. Only divine intervention could have allowed such an outcome; could have turned her creation against her. Salem had no doubt that it was his meddling that resulted in this setback. Her creation had the natural ability to burn one's soul, bypassing even an immortal body. That was the whole point of creating it; her answer to Ozma's undying soul and the endless conflict the gods have created. But what her Harbinger did to her wasn't something she could've accounted for.
Death was all that mattered to her now. She had craved its sweet released for millennia, but what happened to her that day could have been far worse than death. Her ability to move her bony fingers just barely, despite lacking muscles or feeling any sensation from them, proved that much. If her entire body was reduced to such a skeletal state; to be "perfectly preserved" by her curse, yet unable to muster the strength to even stand up. Of course, Salem had never actually granted, or even conceived, of such an ability. It was most likely how her curse would react to the powers that would be from a perverted form of the silver eyes, for being truly immortal was fundamentally different from Ozma's endless incarnations. Since it was in the nature of these gods to leave her in one inescapable hell after another, and it was those very gods that cursed her to begin with, she could only assume there would be no release from such torment.
And what right do these petty excuses of gods have? For them to demand she learn the importance of life and death; it was nothing more than doctrine. Do they not grant and take away lives as they please? Did the God of Light not resurrect Ozma for his own purpose after denying Salem hers? Did the God of Darkness not break the spirit of his and his brother's will to leave this remnant of a world until the Relics were brought together? This is all because of them. Even now, thousands of years later, they toyed with her. She refused to budge; to ever take any blame for what they made her to be. She wouldn't break. She wouldn't kneel. If eternity taught her one thing, it was how to be patient and wait for her enemy's weakness to reveal itself. All she needed was the opportune moment.
Yes…she was, in fact, fully aware of what the God of Darkness said to her Harbinger. The moment she saw him again was like the festering of an old wound. Unlike her Harbinger, her Seers understood loyalty toward their creator, and the link between the Creatures of Grimm are not so easily severed by defiance. To think that the God of Darkness deemed himself "the master now" was utterly laughable. Did this "master" know she was watching and listening through her Harbinger's eyes and ears the entire time? She'd heard everything he commanded of it; every single word of it, and then beyond.
After a brief show of his power and authority, the God of Darkness' command for her Harbinger was to "destroy Salem"…to actually burn her soul, of all the ridiculous notions. Despite having been subjected to her creation's eyes, her soul was completely intact, sheltered by the essence of Grimm that tainted her body. This contraction was actually very easy to explain. The God of Darkness actually lied to her Harbinger; deceived it the way she once deceived he and his brother, all because making her immortal and leaving her alone in a dead world wasn't enough. It was that petty sense of pride and disproportionate retribution that embodied all of their actions, both in the past and even to this day. His attempt to "surpass Salem" as a manipulator was just one more divine sin.
The amusing part of it was that even the Harbinger itself had its doubts on the God of Darkness' intentions. His attempts at deception was pitiful at best. At worst, that suspicion could even lead to an opportunity for Salem to exploit. She made the Harbinger, and she knew its capabilities inside and out. Even if Ozma was spared for the time being, the same may not be said for the two beings she despised even more than him. Even if the Harbinger would not be her knight, it may very well be her pawn.
Salem knew, however, that she would have to act carefully. Just whispering murderous intent or clear commands into its mind would be too reckless, for the Harbinger had human elements that other Grimm, including her previous experiments, did not. For one, it could think and act completely on its own accord. Even the Hound's thought processes were only used to follow her commands more efficiently. The Harbinger was completely different; nothing like those Atlesian robots that could be hacked with the right program. Anything that would directly contend with the Harbinger's own will would invariably be rejected, just as it defied her commands once before. Even worse, trying to exert too much of her will has the risk of severing its connection with her entirely. She'd devoted too much time and effort to let impatience render her efforts fruitless when they may, even now, yield incredible gains.
That left only one solution: make her creation want to heed her words. Just as she swayed the hearts of thousands of people throughout her long life into her service, she could tempt even her wayward creation. It wouldn't be as simple as commanding another Grimm. Unlike the mindless hordes that served her will on a whim, this would take time. Fortunately, that's the one good thing about immortality. Time was always on her side. And speaking of immortals, the Harbinger already distrusted the gods and resented the idea of being their pawn. That's a start.
As Salem lounged on the throne of her Monstra with her head supported by her left hand; a more compact and streamlined version compared to the giant whale Grimm she directed toward Atlas, she contemplated her available moves and the pieces she still had to work with. Tyrian was a heavy loss; one that would be difficult to recover from. Even among the legions of criminals and murderers she'd come across, there was no one quite like him. He was the only one among her cabal that truly understood and supported her desires, knowing that this world was empty and would be better off destroyed, yet he was also intelligent and capable enough to actually carry her plans out.
If there was any consolation for him, it was that he had gotten the sweet release of death she'd sought for millennia. No, not just release. He'd been given an end that even the gods could not grant: the complete and utter obliteration of the soul. It was the most fitting end imaginable for such a loyal subject; to be the first to experience the true destruction he'd found so beautiful. Such a waste, really. She would have wanted him to travel with Mercury to Shade Academy to set the stage for the retrieval of the Relic of Destruction. For now, Arthur would have to do. He's an intelligent and capable man in his own right, yet his unique set of skills were more equipped as a saboteur than a bloody agent of chaos. If she didn't entice another one of society's "madmen" into her service soon, she would have to adjust her plans accordingly.
And then there was Cinder. The patience Salem had to show with that girl was nothing short of legendary, but her possession of the Fall Maiden's power kept her relevant, despite her occasional…disobedience. For one, the Relic of Choice had yet to be found. Even if her dear Ozma had hidden it in a way that differed from the others, it was still plausible that the Fall Maiden's power was necessary to unlock it. Even if it wasn't, there was no good reason to simply toss that power aside…or allow it to be turned against her.
Even now, Salem had to consider her approach on how to handle Cinder. Her recent injuries at the hands of her own Harbinger left considerable damage on her sanity. The last time they had interacted, Cinder was undergoing another session of medical treatment. The new Grimm replacements were effective enough to keep the rest of Cinder's body stable, but she ranted constantly about how the girl had left her in that crippled state…twice. Ever since that day, Cinder had been "seeing" Ruby Rose everywhere, and it was increasingly clear that she could no longer discern that girl from her Harbinger.
Of course, Cinder could never understand. In the eyes of the immortal, she was merely a child playing with powers she could only ever have understood with Salem's guidance. Just because she is more valuable than a pawn, does not make her a player. And just because the Harbinger gives the impression that it could be human, does not make it anything more than a Creature of Grimm that had its allegiance turned against her by the gods, even if it had yet to realize it. None, save Salem and Ozma, could truly know the influence that the gods of old still have on this world, even in their absence. That was why she and Ozma were the only players in this remnant of the old world; just them locked in a stalemate for thousands of years. The others were merely the ever-changing pieces on the board.
Speaking of pieces, perhaps Emerald would be useful as a spy, even if it was only to keep tabs on Cinder without Salem needing to take her attention away from the board for the time being. However, the opportunity to claim her allegiance would only present itself once Cinder had sufficiently soured Emerald's loyalty to her with the former's growing insanity. Perhaps in a month or two, they could come to some kind of working relationship. In the meantime, she'll most likely remain by Cinder's side during her treatment anyway, plus she may be a useful candidate for the other Maiden powers should Cinder not be so lucky to survive death once again…or simply snap from all she'd endured in her life.
She wouldn't replace her Fall Maiden so quickly, however. While her occasional acts of rebellion were tiresome to deal with, the simple fact is that she was still more valuable than a pawn. You don't throw away the better pieces if you can find uses for them. That's just basic pragmatism. Should she make a full recovery and get accustomed to her new leg, she and Emerald may either accompany Arthur and Mercury or remain in the back row for the end game move, like in Atlas before. Then again, Cinder disobeyed the latter command then, and would likely do so again in the best circumstances.
But that was just what Cinder was like: having to fight her whole life unwaveringly for what she wants. In a way, she reminded Salem of her younger years, when she tricked and rebelled against the gods themselves to get what she wanted. That's what drew her to Cinder to begin with. It's how Salem was able to gain her allegiance to begin with. It's how she was such a capable mentor. And it's how she knew what buttons she had to press to keep her obedient. The two were so very much alike.
With that, Salem's attention went toward the pawns on Ozma's side of the board; those children. Naturally, she could see them through her Harbinger's eyes as well, lingering in the shadows of its very senses where none would ever realize it. Well, perhaps "none" is not the correct term. The girl that encompassed a color as white as snow…Weiss, was it? She had discerned her move rather efficiently for such a young girl, only for her well-found warnings to fall on the deaf ears of a silver eyed idealist. Perhaps she, too, was sheltered by a cruel father and learned cunning.
Ironic, given Ozma's greater understanding of her tactics. Perhaps he wasn't as wise as he made himself out to be, but it made little difference. Aside from Ruby and Ozma's newest incarnation, Oscar, those children really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. The most likely move they would make is to travel to Vacuo in an attempt to stop her, perhaps with her Harbinger with them. It had proven itself to be a relentless and insatiable slayer of its own kind. The desert was barely hospitable as it is, crawling with Grimm even when compared to the rest of Remnant. They would certainly find it a useful addition to their ragtag group, despite their misgivings.
No, not just useful, but extremely capable in the act of single-handedly butchering adversaries that even entire teams of fully grown Huntsmen would struggle against. This, too, was a testament to how she had surpassed Ozma, as neither he nor one of his Academies could have trained any Huntsman to slaughter an entire legion of over fifty Grimm by their lonesome, and without respite from the bitter cold of Solitas, no less. Only a Silver-Eyed Warrior, blessed by the God of Light, could have accomplished anything remotely similar.
And in another one of Ozma's great ironies, he now had the opportunity to use her Harbinger for as long as his goal aligned with the God of Darkness. If it didn't, the Harbinger would surely turn on him just as it turned on her. And even if it did, the Infernal Aura would still work its magic through her Harbinger's very presence, whether it willed it or not. That was the one aspect of it that no purity could ever truly overcome; even the most robust souls would eventually fall to their hatred and spite once they've succumbed to the Infernal Aura.
No matter the accomplishments, even the most brilliant lights eventually flicker and die. And when they are gone…darkness will return. Ozma may prepare his remaining guardians; his last monuments to a so-called "free world," but just she had warned him in the past, there will be no victory in strength, not even from her Harbinger.
For now, she would continue watching through its eyes, listening through its ears, taking amusement in the ironies that the gods have cast upon them…and she would be waiting; waiting for the moment her Harbinger is most vulnerable. Sooner or later, it will be isolated, either through being shunned by its present company or to watch them murder one another under the Infernal Aura's influence. It did not matter either way, and when it is truly alone and its only purpose for its wretched existence is to serve a god that toys with those beneath it for his own ends, that is when she will reveal to her wayward creation that she was always there.
In the meantime, the reconstruction of her castle was going smoothly. In yet another irony, her winged Beringels were useful in menial labor as well as destroying mankind's creations. Preparations for the expedition to Vacuo were nearly complete as well. And should her Harbinger actually return to the Land of Darkness to finish what it started, the defensive measures her Monstra left behind as it soared through the red skies would give her ample time to react with a countermove.
Salem may have been caught off guard once; even afraid of her Harbinger, but now that she had time to ponder the situation, it was clear that she still had the upper hand. Two of the Kingdoms remain annihilated, and two of the Relics remain hers. Her enemies remain demoralized, and humanity remains fractured. Even with her earlier setback, she was still halfway to accomplishing her goal. The game state hadn't change, and with that in mind, Salem smirked. She had plenty of moves left. This game was far from over.