Sparrow followed Salem through the snow and up onto the stone steps of the temple in an almost trancelike state. She could feel the bone-chilling air against her skin through the tears in her robes and the light snowfall battering against her face, but none of it really registered. Her mind was entirely elsewhere, occupied only with her new limb and the events that had played out immediately before its creation.

Everything had happened so fast, and a simple mistake had almost cost her everything. Had Salem not stepped in and given her a second chance, she would be bleeding out roughly twenty feet behind the steps, where Kestrel's corpse was collecting snowflakes. She was weak going into the fight by clan standards, but coming out of it, she had become something more.

Even without practice and familiarity, Sparrow could feel a great power coursing through the black limb. Her left shoulder and the muscles in her chest pulsed with an unnatural warmth provided by the foreign appendage, and all sensations within the arm seemed amplified. Sparrow lifted the limb and slowly tapped the bone-tipped digits to their connected obsidian palm, one by one. She was surprised to find that even in her fingertips of bone, she could feel the impacts against the rough, leathery skin. It was a sensation unlike anything she had ever felt before. Sparrow felt bulletproof. It was as though her new arm was entirely unbreakable, and the notion filled her with a manic glee.

She wanted more of that feeling. More of that power.

A sudden soft blast of warm air caught Sparrow's attention as the massive temple doors opened with a casual wave of Salem's arm. The countless flickering lights of candles within provided a warm glow that stood in stark contrast to the overly bright and almost clinical lighting of the cloud-filtered sunlight outside. At the far end of the wide hall, Sparrow could barely see a cloaked figure sitting upon a throne of etched stone.

"Cozy," Tyrian cooed as he came up behind Sparrow and slid a delicate hand along her shoulder. His fingers traced along the blackened veins that had already begun to spread across her skin where the severed sleeve of her robe ended. "How generous of her…"

Sparrow scoffed and quickly shifted her shoulder away from the faunus as she moved to follow Salem toward the throne. The frantic laughter behind her spurred her to walk faster, only for Hazel to catch up to her side immediately with his massive strides.

"Children," the burly man rumbled. "Now is not the time. Stay silent. Keep your distance. None of us fully understand this situation, or its implications. None of us but you, anyway."

Sparrow suddenly felt very cold as the massive man cast her a sidelong glance.

"…I have no idea what 'lamp' the door guardian was referring to," Sparrow said softly. She looked left and right, only to find several robed warriors eyeing their advance from the shadows along the walls of the temple. "All I know is that my former order was tasked with defending this place from both Salem and Ozma."

"I don't know, either," Leonardo chimed in as he jogged to catch up to the pair, his stubby legs moving quickly. The small man slid into the gap between Hazel and Sparrow while Tyrian moved to loom over him from behind. "I know more about Raven and Qrow than what's been going on here."

"Which is why you're still alive," Tyrian whispered into Leonardo's ear as he leaned forward over the man's shoulder. "For now."

Salem's advance suddenly stopped a mere ten feet from the throne, and her lackeys fanned out to either side just behind her. The doors of the temple closed far behind them, and the sound of several weapons being unsheathed echoed all throughout the temple hall. Salem merely folded her hands before herself in a nonthreatening gesture as she eyed up the figure sitting atop the stone seat. Her lips drew into a disarming smile as she watched the man slowly rise, his robes straightening out as he did so.

"And who might you be?" Salem asked sweetly. "The man in charge of what remains?"

"My name is Shrike," the man replied. His face was mostly hidden by the hood of his black robe, which featured a pattern of blue thorns trailing around the rim of the cowl and down one side of his chest and legs. A long russet beard was barely visible in the low light within the temple, and he appeared to be unarmed. "I lead The Watchers- a group of four dedicated to carrying out our master's will. Though… I suspect we are now a group of three. Kestrel lies dead?"

It was more of a statement than an actual question. One that Salem didn't bother to answer directly.

"Your numbers dwindle," Salem mocked as she approached. Though Shrike stood over her atop the small steps leading up to the throne, her very presence seemed to darken the entire room before her. "I would choose your next actions very, very carefully, little bird. We approached peacefully, only to receive a monster's welcome."

"You shepherd the grimm throughout Remnant," Shrike accused. "You defile all you touch and bring ruination. It is our sacred duty to stand in your way and keep you from accruing even more power through the relics."

"And yet, you have failed," Salem said calmly. "Arowana lies dead… yet Ozma is not here, while the rest of your order remains. That tells me that you no longer pose a threat to him. You no longer have the lamp, do you?"

Though Sparrow couldn't see Shrike's eyes within the shadowed space of his hood, she could tell that the man was staring directly at her. Righteous anger boiled within her chest, and so, she stepped forward to stand at Salem's side.

"Raven and Qrow's rampage left our order in ruins. Your misplaced faith in Raven over me cost Arowana everything… and now, it's time for you and yours to pay in kind. Salem has given me more in one day than The Watchers have in a decade. My support of her should come as no surprise."

"And still you are inadequate," Shrike snapped. "We will hold the line, here and now, against all of you."

"And you will die for nothing," Salem observed. "Is that what your order has become in my supposed absence? Stubborn, meaningless honor, even in the face of defeat? I came not to wipe this mountaintop of your ilk, but to offer an opportunity. After all… have I not already taken in one of yours?"

"Cease these mind games," Shrike commanded as he threw back his hood. The man's face was that of someone in their mid-20s or early 30s, chiseled and worn with experience beyond their years. His red hair and braided beard stood out in stark contrast to his robes, and several long scars marred his features. "State your case, witch."

"No others need to die today," Salem continued as she approached the small staircase leading to the throne. "All I require of you in order to begin a temporary alliance is shelter and information. You were tasked with guarding the Relic of Knowledge, were you not? All I desire at the moment is to utilize one of its questions… and then you may have it back, no strings attached. I believe that is more than fair… though there are other things I can do for you, while I am here."

Shrike took a deep breath, eyeing up Salem with disdain as she offered a slender hand upward.

"You come here and demand that I order our entire society to cast aside our purpose for the sake of preservation? After slaughtering your way through our encampment?"

Salem's smile only widened as she held her arm in place, the limb unmoving.

"If you refuse… then Sparrow will sit the throne, while we finish what you started here today. Something tells me that your supposed honor isn't worth that trade. Adapt and assist me with taking the lamp back from Ozma and his entourage, or perish. The choice is yours. What lies beyond that can be decided another time."

Shrike's lip curled into a snarl as he took Salem's hand.

"…you leave me no choice…"

"I know," Salem said sweetly. "You'll get used to it, as I did so long ago. Now, where are your other companions? I believe a meeting is in order, once any who dissent are exterminated."

"One guards Arowana's tomb in the back of the temple," Shrike answered as he pulled back his hand. "The other is tracking Raven and Qrow, in Vacuo. She should be poised to strike at any time."


Summer Rose awoke with a groan, her vision blurry and several lights dancing overhead in a rotating circular pattern. The girl brought her hand up to her forehead to feel the sweaty, clammy skin beneath it as the lights continued to revolve. Over time, they coalesced into a single bright lamp on the ceiling above. The ceiling itself was made of thick steel, and the room smelled vaguely of bleach. Summer let out another moan as she shifted within the fluffy blankets all around her, and soon found that her movement was restricted by a tube connected to her left wrist.

"Careful, now," a soothing male voice cautioned. The sound was followed up by that of plastic wheels rolling across a tile floor, and then the appearance of a familiar visor sliding into Summer's view. "Don't try to sit up. You're currently hooked up to fluids, Miss Rose. You were out for roughly four hours, before you ask."

Summer closed her mouth and nodded, grateful for the man's prediction.

"Did I just… fall over and pass out?" she asked sheepishly.

"Well, first you screamed, then you fell over," Professor Gumo reminded. "I barely managed to catch you before you hit the ground. Otherwise, you'd have a rather nasty lump right about now."

"…right. Um… thanks," Summer said with more than a bit of embarrassment. "What even happened? The last thing I remember is Barty talking about the relics, and Professor Ozpin looking at us through a monitor."

"You don't remember what you said?" the headmaster asked, his voice full of curiosity. "A name?"

Summer stared blankly at the man's visor, trying to imagine where his eight eyes would be behind it. She could vaguely remember his face and the eight glittering orbs scattered around it, but nothing else came to mind.

"…no," Summer said slowly. "It feels like I should know the answer, but… I don't. It's at the forefront of my mind, trying to get out, but…"

"Quite alright," Professor Gumo reassured. "If I don't remind you, Ozpin will. What does the name 'Salem' mean to you?"

Once again, the image of a woman Summer had never seen flashed into her mind. Hot vomit bubbled up into the back of her throat, and she instinctively covered her mouth as she tried to sit up in bed. It took all of Summer's willpower to stop herself from pulling the tube from her arm and beginning to run.

"…yes, that is an appropriate response," Professor Gumo said calmly as he wheeled himself back to a desk on the side of the small room. The man began to type, his fingers racing across the keyboard as lines of text appeared upon the accompanying monitor. "Tell me everything you think you know about her."

"Do we have to do this now?" Summer asked, moving her fingers slightly apart to speak clearly through the gap. Her breathing was quick and uneven, and she just barely managed to fight down the urge to throw up. "I feel sick…"

The faunus stopped typing and turned his chair around to face the hospital bed once again.

"…I suppose not. The others need not know you're awake just yet," Professor Gumo considered. "Lay back. Rest. I do want to ask you a few other questions, if you're willing. They should be easier to stomach."

"Go ahead," Summer encouraged as she followed the man's orders and let the back of her head hit the pillow once again. "I'll do the best I can."

"Excellent," Professor Gumo praised as he turned back to the computer and opened a new window. "I noticed some… peculiarities about you while you were sleeping, Miss Rose. Your aura, to start."

Summer furrowed her brows as she stared up at the ceiling light once again.

"What about it…?"

"…why do you have two?"


Author's Note:

Time for some answers.

And even more questions.

-RD