Yang blasted another Ursa in the skull, then dodged between two more into a narrow gap in the sea of black. Another got a lucky hit on her—was it really luck when she was surrounded?—and she felt her dwindling Aura dip even further. She bared her teeth and spun, punching out in a starburst, trying to widen the tiny ring of space that was all she had left to stand in.

She'd lost track of time a while ago. It felt like hours since Weiss had promised a way out in three minutes. But she knew it hadn't been that long. After all, the monster roaring just on the other side of the block still hadn't made itself known.

As if on cue, the building beside her exploded. She leapt out of the way of a block of concrete as it fell right in the middle of her little ring of space. Fortunately, several Ursae weren't so quick, and so she had new spaces to jump to, courtesy of the teamwork between gravity and Valean architecture.

She jumped up onto one of the irregular boulders and looked up. Her hands were already shaking—she didn't have room to be any more scared—so it was with a sort of detached awe that she beheld Nanook as he glared down at her, red eyes lit with malevolent intellect.

He fell forward onto all four legs, leaned forward, and roared his fury like a wall of sound. It broke against her, almost knocking her off her feet.

She bared her teeth, golden light flickering on the white masks surrounding her as her hair caught fire. Suddenly, bizarrely, she wished she'd taken the time to think about what she wanted her last words to be sometime before this. It was too late now, of course.

Nanook took a lumbering step forward. Then he paused, cocking his head. She heard it too—a whistling sound, coming from… above?

She looked up just in time to see her locker descending like an avenging thunderbolt. It fell directly onto Nanook's back with the force of an artillery shell. It didn't go through him, but it knocked him flat, and the locker itself spun away before embedding itself—mercifully with its thrusters down—in the ground not ten feet from Yang herself.

Before she'd even had time to fully process, Yang was already leaping towards the locker. She didn't have time to put in a specific destination. She just slammed her palm into the control pad and held on for dear life.

Geralt whirled around, blade at the ready. Salem wasn't even looking at him. Her red eyes were fixed on the illusory image of herself in the center of the floor. A small, thoughtful frown was on her lips, and one of her eyebrows was ever so slightly raised. After a moment, she seemed to notice him, and met his gaze.

"I'm not sure what you hoped to accomplish here," she said. "But if you want to see my history—be my guest." She gestured magnanimously at the scene behind him.

Warily, Geralt took a few steps back, then positioned himself so that he could see both Salems, the real and the illusion. Even as he glanced in her direction, the illusion rose from where she was stooped in the center of the floor. She reached into a pocket, furious tears streaming from her eyes, and pulled out a small hand mirror.

"Oh," said the real Salem, amused. "I think I understand now."

The illusion clenched her hand into a fist and, with a scream, drove it through the glass of the mirror. Shards buried themselves in her knuckles, but she seemed completely heedless of the pain and blood. Her head cast about, eyes darting here and there as though seeking something in the shadows.

"I wondered when you'd call upon me again, Salem."

The illusory Salem whirled, glaring up at one of the high windows. Geralt was already looking that way himself. Seated upon the narrow ledge of the wall before the glass was a figure Geralt was not ashamed to admit had featured in more than one of his nightmares.

Gaunter O'Dimm twirled a wooden spoon in his fingers like a baton, looking down at the illusory Salem with an indulgent smile on his face. Then, unmistakably, his eyes moved over to where Geralt stood, centuries later.

"It's so good to see you again, my friend," he said.

Ruby rode her rocket up as it ascended, praying that she'd managed to achieve that coveted margin of close enough with the arc. Beside and behind her, Blake was clutching her own locker with the grim determination of the terrified. They reached the apex of their arc, then started to descend, still moving towards the airship fleet hovering over Vale. When they were only a few dozen feet higher than the nearest ship, Ruby called to her teammate, "Now!"

They leapt off the lockers in unison. Blake tossed the hook of Gambol Shroud in Ruby's direction as they flew. Ruby caught it with the haft of Crescent Rose, spun, and flung Blake upward toward the approaching vessel. Then she planted her feet on the dull platform of the scythe's blade near the haft and fired a rapid series of Gravity Dust rounds, propelling herself forward and upward

She didn't quite maintain enough height to land on the airship's roof, so she instead swung her blade and hooked herself along its side, digging a furrow into the vessel's hull. Then, with a heave, she levered herself up, vaulting over Crescent Rose onto the back of the ship.

Blake caught her as she sailed up and helped her regain her footing. The faunus girl's other hand was already fishing out her scroll. Her face fell visibly as the screen came on. "Oh no," she whispered. "Yang…"

Ruby's heart stuttered. "What happened?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Blake showed her the scroll with the team's Aura feeds. Yang's was deeply in the red—not broken yet, but nearly so. But it wasn't falling any further that Ruby could see.

She gritted her teeth. "Okay," she said. "Keep an eye on it. We have to stick to the plan until we rendezvous, so let's get to the flagship. Any idea which…" She looked around and trailed off. "Never mind."

There was only one ship that might be Ironwood's flagship—a massive battleship, twice as large as the frigate they were on now. Blake stepped up beside her, following her gaze. "Looks bigger from up here," she commented. "Think he's compensating for something?"

Ruby snorted. "Not something I really wanted to think about, Blake. Come on, let's meet the others."

Raven did her best to keep her breathing steady as she followed Qrow and Ozpin into the elevator. As the door slid shut and they started moving, Ozpin let out a minute sigh.

"They haven't taken out the elevator," he said. "That's a good sign."

"Are Barty and Peter down there?" Qrow asked.

"They should be," said Ozpin darkly. "Assuming nothing more has gone wrong since I last checked."

"Having a bad day?" asked Raven caustically.

"Exceedingly," said Ozpin flatly, meeting her eyes.

She found herself looking away.

The elevator reached the vault. The doors slid open with a quiet hiss. Eerie green light flooded into the cylindrical compartment.

Raven stepped out into the silence immediately, followed by Ozpin and Qrow. She looked around.

Professors Port and Oobleck were both crumpled by one of the walls. On the far side of the room a woman was facing away from them, looking at a strange machine, like a glass casket.

She turned. Her eyes flared with fire.

"Professor Ozpin," she said, a smirk on her lips. "I'm so glad you made it in time to see this."

And before any of them could react, she drove her curved sword through the glass and into the chest of the girl inside.

"No!" Qrow shouted. On Raven's other side, she heard Ozpin let out a soft, depleted breath.

She watched the power flow out of the girl in the casket—the former Fall Maiden, she now realized—and into the woman in red. The flames in her eyes blossomed into twin infernos.

"Shall we?" she asked, twirling her cutlasses.

Raven drew her sword, took a deep breath, and let her own Maidenhood flare. "Hey, kid," she said. "Let me show you how it's done."

Spring charged, and Autumn met her halfway.

Yang let out a relieved sigh as she landed on the flagship. Ruby flashed to her in a flurry of rose petals, throwing her arms around her. "Yang! Are you okay? What happened to your Aura?"

"Got into a fight," Yang said hoarsely. "Nanook and its Ursae. Had to hold them off so the Atlesians and civilians could get away. The locker was coming, I just had to hold out." She grinned weakly at Ruby, her hair hanging limp around her face the way it always did after she'd overused her Semblance. "I'm okay."

"You're not exactly up for storming an airship, though, I'll bet," said Blake dryly, coming up and putting her hand on Yang's arm. She looked at Ruby. "Do you want one of us to take her to safety?"

Ruby just looked at her, then gestured out at the battle raging below and all around them. "What safety?" She shook her head. "No, we'll secure a beachhead inside the ship and Yang can wait there while we fight our way to the bridge. There's probably still some Atlesian resistance inside anyway."

Finally, Weiss arrived beside them. She skated towards them along a line of glyphs, then stumbled to a halt. "I," she announced, "never want to do that again."

"Hey, same," said Yang, giving her a slightly wan grin. Then she turned to Ruby. "All right, Rubes, how are we getting in?"

"Hangar's in the back," said Ruby. "We should at least try that before coming up with any more complicated entry plans, right?"

"Sure," said Blake. "But that's also where any knights that hadn't been deployed would be stationed, isn't it?"

"Maybe," said Ruby, "but they might also be patrolling, or guarding the bridge, or anywhere else. We have to start somewhere. We just have to be careful."

"You're the boss," said Yang. "We'll follow your lead."

Ruby nodded, turned, and led her team along the length of the ship. They leapt off the rear, dropping past the heat of the thrusters, and then redirected into the open hangar with weapon blasts, glyphs, and a thrown hook of Gambol Shroud.

The rolled to a stop inside the hangar and stood up immediately, ready for a fight.

"Welcome, Team RWBY," said General Ironwood, voice stiff and eyes hooded. "I assume you're here to help us retake the ship?" He gestured, and the Atlesian soldiers who had readied their weapons at their sudden appearance lowered them.

"That's right, sir," said Ruby, looking around. There were soldiers stationed at the hangars exits—but not nearly as many as she would have expected. "What's going on?"

"The ship has been hijacked by Roman Torchwick and Neopolitan," said Ironwood grimly. "They are working with a force of Grimm, including at least one relatively intelligent Alpha. Our automated defenses were disabled when they boarded, and they took the bridge before we could mount an effective response. Now they've turned the knights against us. There are pockets of resistance throughout the vessel, but most of my men are locked inside their barracks."

"Do you have cyberspecialists working on countermeasures?" Ruby asked, looking around and noting the lack of anyone working at computer terminals.

Ironwood's dark eyes narrowed. "Almost all of my cyberspecialists were on the ground, trying to prevent this," he said coldly. "We expected the enemy to attack at the Vytal festival. I can only assume our plans were betrayed. He glanced at Yang. "My best guess at the traitor is Raven Branwen. I'm assuming none of you knew about this?"

"Nope," said Yang darkly. "Not too surprised though. What do we do?"

"With you here," said Ironwood, "we may now have enough firepower to retake the vessel. Can you all fight?"

"Yang's low on aura," said Ruby. "The rest of us are good to go."

Ironwood nodded. "Good. We have to retake the bridge, at any cost."

Gaunter O'Dimm stood up, heedless of the fact that he was standing on thin air. Then he began to descend, as if on stairs, down towards the illusory Salem. His eyes returned to her, then roamed about the ruined hall. "Well," he said. "I would say you seem to have fallen on hard times, but this is still an improvement on that little shack you were staying in last time."

"You lied to me," hissed the Salem of the past, glaring at him with eyes like coals. "You—you twisted him somehow. Turned him against me!"

Gaunter O'Dimm's indulgent smile widened. "Of course not, my dear," he said. "I am a merchant! My reputation is all I have. I make it a point never to lie, nor to violate even the spirit of a contract. If your dear Ozma has turned against you, it's because of the decisions you and he made—not because of any interference on my part. You have my word on that."

Salem bared her teeth. Then her eyes drifted back down to the doll still clutched in her fist. A shard of the mirror had punctured its burlap skin.

She took a deep breath. "My daughters," she said. "You brought him back. Will you bring them back to me, now?"

"Mm." O'Dimm hummed noncommittally. "I told you once that bringing back the dead was something out of my purview. Ozma was an exception—there were other forces at work in his death, and those forces were things I could manipulate. But your daughters… they were killed, if not by mortals, then at least by people."

"Then you can't?" Salem asked hoarsely.

"I did not say that." O'Dimm pursed his lips. "I can bring your daughters back into the world," he said slowly, "but I can't bring their souls into the conscious world beyond dreams. They will exist as visions and memories. Memories which you may one day be able to bring to the fore."

"I don't understand."

"Then I'll be plain. Ozma is currently fated—not by me, by the by—to be reincarnated into one body after another. I can imitate that process for your daughters, but I cannot make your daughters' souls overpower the souls of their living hosts. That's beyond even me. However… you might be able to."

Salem's eyes narrowed. "That's the best you can do?"

Gaunter O'Dimm nodded. "If souls were something I could so easily manipulate and modify," he said dryly, "why on earth do you think I would want yours?"

She sneered. "Right. You realize I'm immortal, right? I've done my best to die already. You're never going to get me. So why are you giving me these wishes in the first place?"

Gaunter O'Dimm smiled. "Nothing lasts forever, my dear," he said. "Or very nearly nothing. You may not have found a way to die yet, but eventually eternity catches up with every soul. And I can afford to be patient. After all—the only thing that will last when the last lights burn out is the dark. Me."

Salem's eyes narrowed. "Fine," she said. "Then, with my final wish, I will ensure you can never take my daughters from me, or me from them."

Gaunter O'Dimm's eyebrow rose. "Oh? And how do you propose to do that?"

"You say you'll be here forever," said Salem coldly. "Until after the last stars burn out, were your words last time. So I will tie my fate to yours. I will be as impossible to defeat as you are. I will never be beaten until someone manages to beat you."

Gaunter O'Dimm's smile did not change. "Is that your final wish?"

"It is."

"So be it," said Gaunter O'Dimm with relish. "Then—for your second wish, I will return the memory of your daughters to the world, though you will have to find a way to make those memories manifest. I'll tell you for free that it is possible, though it is not possible for me. And, for your third wish—you will never be defeated except by one who has defeated me. If and when such a one appears…" His eyes, unmistakably, shifted once more to Geralt, "…He, and only he, will find you as easy to slay as any other monster. But no one else will be able to get that far."

"Fine," said Salem.

Gaunter O'Dimm winked—not at Salem, but at Geralt—and snapped the wooden spoon between his fingers.

The illusion faded. Once more they stood in the rebuilt hall. Grimm shrieked outside, and the wind hwoled over the barren Dust fields.

"I planted the variations on that story myself," Salem said, sounding amused. Geralt turned to her, his face an unreadable mask. She was smiling at him, eyes glittering with malice. "A thousand versions of the same story, each with the essential moral that the witch's third wish would be her downfall. More than a few would-be heroes tried to challenge me with the weaknesses they'd heard I had. All failed. As you just heard—my real third wish made me unbeatable. No one can destroy him, and so no one can destroy me."

"That's not what I heard," said Geralt.

She raised her eyebrow. "Oh? And what did you hear?"

"No one can beat you unless they beat him," he said. "And if they have—they can kill you the same as any other monster they've hunted."

Her eyes, suddenly widened. "You're not saying—"

"Afraid so," he said. And, in one fluid motion, he unsheathed Aerondight and buried it to the hilt in her chest.