In the depths of the Taixuan Manor, a locked door had existed.

There had been nothing particularly special about this door—it had been identical to every other one in the mansion. A sliding paper aperture, closer to a screen than a proper door, emblazoned with the recurring motif of ardently flowing, red cranes.

Indeed, it had been a door like any other, save for the fact that it had been perpetually locked, and even that would not have been cause for a second thought.

It was quite some time into his tenure at the mansion that Jaune had become aware of such an aperture, which he had quickly dismissed as a room for storage or other similar usage. He would have gone the entirety of his time at the manor believing that there was nothing particularly special about this locked room, had he not chanced to hear noise emanating from it one twilit eve.

The abode had been situated in an oft-unused corner of the mansion—one which he did not typically have reason to visit—so the matter of the sealed space was not one that normally came to mind. On this evening, however, the room had fully enthralled his attention as the slight sound of steps shuffling across tatami mat filtered through the screen.

There had been no artificial source of light in the room. There had never been one, a fact that had contributed to his belief that the space was uninhabited. Even so, the rueful orange light that filtered in from a window had cast malformed shadows upon the screen, a dimly lit puppet show that had portrayed the grotesque approximation of the human form before its owner passed from the frame.

The moment he had noticed them, the noises had ceased abruptly, as if realizing they now had an audience.

A silence, so maddeningly deafening, had descended upon the scene, and a sudden, irrational feeling had bled into the young man's senses. A dull throb of foreboding that mounted and rose with every passing moment had roiled in his gut and boiled over, clawing through his innards and freezing every nerve in his body. He had felt the sensation of unknown, baleful eyes upon him, the fear of prey that knows that a predator is lurking about.

He bolted.

All the way back to his own living quarters he had sprinted, through wooden hallways and down narrow stairs, footfalls echoing heavily throughout the house. The only cognizant thought that his addled brain had formulated was the primal desire to escape, to elude the apex predator that surely must be pursuing him. Only when he had lain safe in the confines of his own quarters had he dared to peek into the desolate hallway for signs of danger. There had been nothing.

He was being childish, he had decided later, after a long bout of retrospection. It must be the room of another resident of the mansion, he had reasoned. The Taixuan Manor was a ridiculously large building, surely it would be more unusual if his master occupied the space alone?

From that point, Jaune had resolved to avoid that particular corner of the mansion like a plague. In his logical mind, he had reasoned that if someone was indeed living there and he hadn't yet met them after all this time, then they must have no interest in making his acquaintance. In actuality, it was merely an excuse. He had been so thoroughly spooked by the events of that time that he harbored no desire to investigate any further.

Jaune had found it odd, however, that he had never seen another soul in this place, save for himself and his master. When all that existed was an ever present twilight, time bled and smeared into a hazy fever dream. It had become difficult to discern the demarcation where one day ended and another began. Even so, Jaune felt that he had been in this place for a long, long time, and not once had he ever encountered another living being. No beasts, nor birds, nor even insects stalked this home in the forest, let alone another person, and not once had the sealed space ever opened.

Once, he had asked his master about the door, and she had responded rather uncharacteristically.

"That is her room," she had said, with a touch of exasperation tinting her words. "Pay her no mind. She mostly keeps to herself and doesn't bother interacting with people she finds, to use her words, uninteresting."

Any further attempts to glean information on the mysterious "her" bore no fruit. His master remained intractable on the matter, insisting that the being behind the door was "mostly harmless" and preferred to be left alone. Not wishing to upset her with his prying, Jaune had dropped the topic.

Up to the day that he left the mansion, Jaune never saw the being that resided behind the fragile fabric of that door. Though, as he departed for the final time, he had chanced a final glance to the grand face of the towering edifice.

From one of the upper windows, a shadow had peered back with glaring, scarlet eyes.


In the darkened confines of a run-down rental space, a figure waited patiently. The sundered moon, having attained the zenith of it's nightly voyage, shone brightly in a cloudless sky, though precious little of its radiance was afforded to the squalid domicile. The sparse few celestial beams that managed to filter past the towering height of the clustered neighboring buildings were ultimately thwarted by shuttered shades, casting the domicile into an inky, black morass.

The paltry glow of the battered, lopsided microwave timer, the lone source of light in the room, did little to alleviate the darkness, though it mattered not. As if in sleep or meditation, the woman leaned against the scuffed drywall of the kitchen with her eyes shut, arms crossed loosely in front of her chest. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth.

It was well past midnight.

Two-thirteen, the dull green numerals portrayed feebly, their light waning and sickly. The time for the usual rendezvous had long since passed. A gnawing suspicion had settled in the woman's bosom, only exacerbated by the sensation of a presence steadily approaching the building.

Like a statue of ancient antiquity granted life, Fu Hua finally shifted from her spot against the wall, head tilting curiously. It was Neopolitan, she realized. Just Neopolitan.

For the younger thief to return alone was unusual. Unless she was on a job, the girl was inseparable from her partner, often preferring to prance about out of sight like a dangerously mischievous guardian angel. Everywhere that Roman went, Neo was sure to follow.

Despite this, Fu Hua could only sense one person approaching, and she brought with her a roiling storm of negative emotion. Uncertainty, fear, and most of all, anger, competed to drive the girl's psyche, a raging war that only became more apparent the closer she approached.

The door slammed open with all the force the thief's diminutive frame could muster, threatening to finally break free from rusted hinges and sending tremors about the weathered walls. A pair of mismatched eyes swept the room before landing upon the stoic form propped against the wall. To Fu Hua's mild surprise, the girl marched right up to her without preamble, her petite face the very picture of unbridled wrath. Within moments, a glowing object was rudely thrust into her face, clutched in trembling fingers.

Fu Hua blinked. The light of the scroll before her eyes revealed a hastily typed demand.

So that was what happened, she thought, mind quickly piecing the situation together. There were gaps in her knowledge, and the finer details still eluded her, but she more-or-less grasped the most likely scenario. She nodded slightly, raising her right hand, fingers swaying towards the shorter girl's face.

Immediately, Neo's form snapped rigidly at the movement, stumbling backwards stiffly in alarm. Like a cornered beast, she bristled, her pupils constricting and her breathing attaining a shuddering staccato. Thin lips instinctively pulled back, baring teeth at a perceived danger, limbs coiled in expectation.

The precipitous rise in tension did not go unnoticed, and Fu Hua drew back slightly. Her unoccupied hand reached up to unlatch the mask, and she met Neo's fearful gaze directly. "Do you mind?" She asked, her voice carrying the gentle patois one would use to placate a fearful child.

The unexpected tone seemed to do the trick, as a hint of hesitation bled into the younger girl's form. Seeing that Fu Hua bore no ill will, she nervously shook her head, allowing the older woman to step closer unimpeded. Even so, wide, wary eyes traced the movements of the offending hand as it approached her face once more.

Advancing confidently, Fu Hua raised her limb, ignoring the reflexive flinch from her target as she did so. She placed two slender fingers upon the young thief's forehead.

And the world became awash with white.


Neo blinked. She blinked again. She blinked thrice and then wheeled her head wildly about.

Where was she?

The dirty lot-turned-hideout had vanished without a trace. Instead she found herself in a place of stark, white blankness for as far as the eye could see. At the very edges of infinity, a blot of black splattered into existence. At first just a drop on plain canvas, the stain grew rapidly, propagating across interminable snowy expanses at an alarming rate. The mass expanded with alarming speed, and Neo braced herself to meet it—whatever that might entail—but it rushed past her harmlessly, racing to the other edge of infinity.

She had instinctively shut her eyes, and when she slowly opened them once more, the landscape had changed drastically. In the place of blankness now stood bizarre scenery. It was something that would not have been unusual on canvas or paper, but conjured up into reality, it seemed unnatural, impossible. Vivid, black strokes, like that of ink or paint, now formed the basis for the shapes that rose up around her.

The place that she was standing in had become some sort of fancifully fabricated forest, it seemed. Hard, purposeful streaks formed the trunks of trees, while haphazard blots and watered-down stains suggested the image of leaves overhead. The subtle grays and bold blacks tossed gently to and fro, blown about by a breeze that she could not feel. Far overhead, stylized clouds followed the whims of these same winds, idly migrating across the scroll of the world. The gurgling of water captured her attention next, and she followed the sound to a river, whose rifts and eddies swirled, carelessly scrawled with a capricious brush. Cautiously submerging a finger, she found that the rivulets of ink flowed around the digit like mercury, and she pulled her hand up, unblemished and dry.

"Come, sit," a voice called softly, tearing Neo from her inspections. She raised her head to find the person that had been standing in front of her mere minutes prior.

Except she was different now.

It surely was the same person, of that there could be no doubt, but the attire was entirely different from when Neo had last seen her. Gone was the black battlesuit, and in its place was finery that mirrored the endless expanse of serene, spring skies. Robes of pristine white and rich blue swathed her form while grey hair now cascaded freely down to her waist. The woman sat at attention, waiting for her at a conspicuously placed table—one that was well out of place in this surreal setting.

Bizarrely, the table seemed more real than everything else in this place. It was actually constructed from honest-to-goodness wood, as opposed to abstract strokes—an odd exception to this ink and paper world.

The same could be said of the surroundings in the older woman's immediate vicinity. It was as if a slice of the real world had encroached, if only for a moment, into the painting before being halted.

Cautiously, Neo made her way into the clearing. Upon closer inspection, she found that the simple piece of furniture had a small variety of accoutrements assembled atop itself. A small earthenware pot, steaming from the spout, sat at the center. A pair of cups, one filled and resting in front of the older woman, the other, empty and unattended, lay at opposing ends of the table.

"Have a seat," Fu Hua offered. She gestured to the empty seat across from herself. "Let us chat."

Jerking from her stunned reverie, Neo fumbled to extract her scroll, in order to ask a hurried question, before being halted.

"There is no need for that," Fu Hua remarked. "Here, you are not confined by physical constraints. You can speak."

Confused, Neo opened her mouth, and a musical voice lilted from her throat, foreign, yet altogether too familiar. It was the voice that she had always spoken with within the confines of her own thoughts.

She could speak. Her first noise had been little more than a meaningless ululation of tangled syllables born of surprise, but she could speak.

Despite this, she was at a loss for words. The enraged creases on her face had long since melted away, and she was feeling an odd sense of peace. This place oozed tranquility, serenity washing over her skin and filtering down to her very bones. It was unsettling.

Neo supposed there were a host of questions she could ask at this moment. Where was she, or who the prim and proper woman sitting across from her truly was. Truthfully, none of that interested her. Her immediate concern was singular and unambiguous. She flushed the placid veil from her mind, sharpening her focus and asked the question she had been unable to voice previously.

"Where is Roman." Her tone was hard, unwavering. It was more of a demand than a question. Steadily, she met that stern, yet idyllic, gaze without flinching.

"I do not know," the woman responded calmly, taking a short draft from her cup.

Neo surged to her feet, a snarl upon her face and umbrella in hand, pointed squarely at the unperturbed warrior's face. The worry that had drained from her upon entering this space returned in an instant. Somewhere at the edges of the world, roiling storm clouds blotted into existence, a grey stain upon pristine whiteness.

"You're lying!" Neo spat. "You're the one who's been giving the orders! You know! You have to know!"

"Calm yourself," Fu Hua commanded sternly, though she did not rise to the threat. "Remnant is a vast place. Even I cannot know everything that occurs on this land. But if it is finding that man, then there are means by which that can be achieved."

"Alive?" Neo snarled.

She was no fool. She had been in this line of work for as long as she could remember. When people went missing, they tended to stay missing. Brothers knew there was no shortage of people who would've been happy to put Roman down.

"Perhaps," came the response. "If he has kept his wits about him, he likely still lives."

Scowling, Neo scrutinized the woman's face, attempting to glean even the slightest hint of deception. She was as unreadable as when she wore the damned mask. After several tense seconds, Neo allowed her umbrella arm to drop, slowly lowering herself back into her seat.

"Well?" She asked irately. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I imagine Torchwick was apprehended because his wavering allegiances have been discovered. In the event that his connection to myself is not yet known, then they are likely trying their hardest to uncover his co-conspirator."

She took a final sip, draining her cup, and laid it on the table. She fixed Neo with a steely stare, to which the younger girl could not suppress shiver. The attire may be more elegant, but the same ruthless killer still resided within them.

"Torchwick should understand that as long as he holds information that his captors desire, it is far more to their benefit to keep him alive," Fu Hua explained. "Once that information has been extracted, he loses what little bargaining power he may have had."

"So that's what you meant about keeping his wits," Neo mused darkly. "As long as he doesn't spill, there's a chance he's still alive. But what if they already know about you?"

The older woman's brow raised incrementally, and the ghost of a smirk tugged at her features. "Would you want to antagonize the 'Scourge of Vale' any more than necessary?"

"Point taken," Neo conceded wryly, though an ember of hope remained alight in her breast. "So there's a chance, huh?"

"It is all merely speculation on my part," Fu Hua admitted, "but I have reasonable confidence that his captors would not be so foolhardy as to carelessly kill a valuable source of information."

"It sounds like you know who has him," Neo accused.

"I have my suspicions," she responded simply. "I imagine you will find that your cooperation with Cinder's group has reached its conclusion."

Neo's face drained of color, and the grip on her still-full cup tightened until the earthenware buckled and shattered, sending streams of lukewarm liquid cascading across the table.

"That snake," she gnashed venomously.

"Indeed," Fu Hua agreed. "I doubt Cinder's group has only recently become aware of Torchwick's double-dealings. The fact that they've made their move only now likely means that they have decided his usefulness no longer outweighs the liability of keeping him around. I imagine that they are progressing to a critical point in their plans."

"I don't care about that." Neo hissed. "None of that matters. Just find him."

Fu Hua inclined her head in acknowledgement. "For now we look for clues within the city limits. I trust you have established rapport with Vale's information brokers?"

"Of course. We aren't amateurs."

"Then we shall begin there." She paused, noticing the unsatisfied glare on the girl's face. "I honor my promises, Miss Neopolitan," Fu Hua stated mildly. "Rest assured, Roman will be found."

"Alive?" The girl repeated.

"To the best of my ability."

"From what the rumors say, your ability is considerable."

"But not omnipotent. I will only promise that I will do what I can."

Neo stared at her, face scrunched into a conflicted expression. Fu Hua held her silence patiently, granting the girl some time to process her emotions.

"I don't like you," Neo finally concluded after a stretch of tense contemplation. "Everything was going fine until you decided to drag Roman into whatever plot you've got going on. Now it's all gone to hell. Why did you have to come for him!?" She demanded.

Calmly, the older woman laid down her cup. "Because he was in the right place at the right time," she stated simply.

"That's all?"

A nod. "Indeed. He was situated in an optimal position, both physically and in terms of connections. I don't believe the deal that I offered was at all disfavorable. It was a situation where we both stood to benefit."

"Except he's the one that's been captured while you're here sipping tea!"

"Circumstances have conspired against us," Fu Hua noted calmly. "There is naught we can do but make the best of it."

Neo ground her teeth. "I really don't like you," she reiterated flatly.

"Duly noted."


A groan, low and tinged with despair rose through a clockwork room. it precipitated through smoothly turning gears, rising past intricately designed metalwork and upwards until it melded into the steady ticking hum of the great machinery that made up the ceiling.

Far below, Headmaster Ozpin pressed his palms firmly into bloodshot orbs in a vain attempt, to alleviate the stress mounting behind them.

It didn't work.

Slowly, he drew his hands back, passively scrutinizing them, almost in a daze, before the halo of lights overhead.

Gently weathered and worked, they bespoke a life of relative simplicity. The palms held the familiar calluses of handling his weapon, of course, as did the hands of every other hunter. But they were not the rough or plentiful calluses of a body induced to a daily life of manual labor. They were the hands of a scholar. An academic. Such was the life of the man who had inhabited this body long before he did.

Ozpin no longer heard the separate voice of this form's previous occupant; they had long since melded into a singular person. There was no man called "Ozpin." He was a collective, an agglomeration of various lives that had been usurped and assimilated until they formed the aggregate known to the world as "Ozpin." The faces, the voices, and even the very lives that he had worn and discarded over the eons bled into each other in his mind, melting and mixing until it became impossible to extricate who he had been from who he was. He couldn't even recall the original face or voice that he had borne so long ago.

Even now, the longer he examined this body, the more alien it became to him. These were not his hands. Not very long ago, he had gazed upon a pair decidedly different from the ones currently held before his face. Those hands had been younger, less tired, unlike his current pair. He was struck by their wrinkled and worn appearance. When he flexed his fingers, its joints protested loudly, sending jolting pains cascading through his arms. He supposed he had been unkind to this body, the long hours and minimal rest aging it beyond its years. Despite the prematurely gray hair, this body actually wasn't very old. He had lost track of its actual age—time had long ago ceased to mean much to him—but he could safely wager that it had not yet entered its forties.

Yet weathered his hands did look. Wrinkled skin, marked with all forms of blemishes and imperfections hung loosely upon a skeleton of weary sinew and flesh. The fingernails were uneven and long and jagged in places where they had broken. He had been neglecting to clip them again.

The various minutiae of caring for a body was something that he had long fallen out of habit of. There was simply no true need to worry about fashion or health when this form would only last for a scant few decades, if that, before he found himself situated in a new one. Even so, he strove to make himself presentable at least. It was only in the smaller details that manifestations of his neglect became apparent.

He became deeply conscious of the aching back, the creaking knees and a plethora of other mundane ailments that had been building silently over the years. A persistent pain perpetually throbbed at the center of his skull—likely the combined result of poor sleep habits and stress—and he always felt so tired. Normally, he could easily shelve such idle woes, but in the rare moments when he allowed his composure to melt away, they certainly all caught up to him at once.

Heaving a world-weary sigh, Ozpin allowed the limbs to drop to his sides. Against his wishes, his mind began wandering back to the latest worries that had plagued it ever since hanging up his scroll half-an-hour ago.

Atlas was pulling out.

It was mere weeks before the commencement of the Vytal Festival, and James had just called and confided his intent to recall Atlesian citizens to their homeland. Not only that, but he had further announced plans to shut Atlas's borders and discontinue all CCT communications for the immediate future. In short, an entire Kingdom was going on lockdown for some unknown reason.

When Ozpin had desperately pressed for some sort of explanation for the sudden shift, James had cited severe deficiencies in Atlesian security that required all able hands on deck, but had refused to elaborate any further. The most he did was offer a curt apology before promptly ending the call.

Ozpin liked to think he understood his closest compatriots. James, Glynda, Qrow, he had placed an immense amount of trust in them. He had brought them into the fold, revealed the ages-long shadow war in all its ugliness, just as he had done for countless before them. Amongst this group, the bonds of camaraderie should have held the strongest.

But the millennia had been harsh. The same confidence that he had held in others before had been betrayed time and again. Man was weak, that was an indisputable truth that had been laid bare before his eyes many, many times. Whether it be for greed, or fear, or despair, there had been those who turned their backs on the cause, those that had succumbed to the pitch-black whispers of the Grimm Queen.

Ozpin wanted to believe that James was not like that. The man had always been stolid and unwavering in his righteousness, to the point of stubborness. He wanted to believe that James truly had the best intentions of his own nation at heart. He wanted to believe that these...absurd actions were the unfortunate result of a set of some unthinkably obscure, yet dire, circumstances.

But a part of him doubted.

Ozpin did not doubt that James understood what Atlas's actions would look like to pretty much anyone else. Consolidation of forces, sudden withdrawal from foreign powers, refusal to communicate and the closing of borders. It looked like Atlas was preparing for war.

The very notion was ridiculous. The northern kingdom was the most technologically advanced and well-equipped of them all. In terms of military might, it stood second to none. Any conflict that involved Atlas would inevitably become a large-scale affair as the other kingdoms united and mustered their forces just to contend. It was a poor deal for all involved. The reasons not to risk such a thing were plentiful. More than that, James, of all people, knew how absolutely vital it was that humanity remain united. There could be no room for conflict between nations when a threat like Salem loomed over them all.

So why?

Morosely, Ozpin fiddled with the scroll in his hands, pondering his next move.

In the worst case scenario, had James truly been compromised, then everything they had spent the past few months working towards was at risk. Not only did the General safeguard one of the relics, but also the Winter Maiden. And he knew the whereabouts of the remaining half of the Fall Maiden. If James was lost, then Ozpin had lost a quarter of his cards and jeopardized another in one fell swoop.

He switched on his scroll once more, dialing his second-in-command. He did not want to assume the worst, but he feared that he had little choice.

The voice that answered was expectedly displeased.

"Glynda," he greeted, and was immediately subject to a tirade in turn. "Yes, I am aware classes are still in session...Yes, I know you dislike being interrupted mid-lesson...I apologize, but this is important."

Perhaps it was his solemn tone, but the irate chattering fell expectantly silent.

"Would you please send Miss Nikos to my office?"

A sharp question over the line, one that he fully expected.

"Yes, it is for that," he responded neutrally. "I realize that it is well ahead of schedule, but certain events have transpired. I will fill you in later."

A pregnant pause, and then a final question, spoken in a resigned tone.

"No, no let her finish her classes." Ozpin answered. "We can allow her that much, at least. Thank you, Glynda."

The line went dead without another word. She was cross, he knew. Despite her frosty exterior, his deputy was one who cared deeply for each student. Doubtless, what they were doing was something that tugged harshly at her moral fibers.

Ozpin had always been clear with his deputy that the situation regarding Amber was an unfortunate necessity. To thrust one of Beacon's brightest and most promising students so cruelly into their shadow war was a plan that Glynda followed with great distaste, a fact that shewas always quick to mention. But there was no way around it. The Fall Maiden needed a vessel—a proper vessel.

Even so, neither of them had expected this point to come so soon.

The situation in Vale was rapidly devolving, and he could not pinpoint why. The matter of the White Fang's increased activity was one thing. It was a concern, but not an immediately pressing one—their presence in one form or another was always a given. However, for them to so blatantly attempt an attack on Vale's CCT tower was entirely unheard of; they typically acted with much more subtlety than an up-front assault. It was beyond unusual, and Ozpin had a dour feeling that this recent incident had been a smokescreen for something else, something far more sinister.

That, coupled with the earlier conversation with James, had left Ozpin in a state of tense disarray. Something unusual was happening in the background. Someone was moving about behind the scenes, and wherever they trod, discord seemed to follow. To what end or under whose command, he knew not.

Matters were not helped by the fact that ever since term had begun, Amber's condition had been steadily declining at a far faster rate than he had originally anticipated. It was almost unnatural, as if some malign element in the air was slowly, but surely, smothering her life. At this rate, he doubted she would last the month, if that.

He had wanted to allow Miss Nikos a somewhat normal education, at least for a short time, but circumstances seemingly would not allow that. Necessity dictates sacrifice, a sacrifice that often comes at the expense of those least at fault.

Pyrrha Nikos must take up the mantle of the Fall Maiden as soon as possible.

Whether or not she would accept was not a worry that Ozpin harbored. Pyrrha Nikos held an unwavering sense of duty. If she believed her destiny lay before her, she would doubtless lay down everything to fulfill it. She just needed to be convinced, and that part was the essence of simplicity.

After all, man was weak. The barest suggestion, the barest hint of purpose, and they folded in reverence to "fate."

Ozpin's brow furrowed, deepening the premature age lines in his forehead. How adept he had become, at shifting the lives of man like pawns upon a board. It was not a skill he took any amount of pride in. But it, like all that he did, was necessary. One necessary evil upon another, upon another, upon another.

How many bright and innocent lives had he burned away to stoke the flames of bitter resistance against his former lover? How many more to come? Pyrrha Nikos would hardly be the first person, nor the greatest among them, to cast aside any semblance of a normal life for...this. He doubted she would be the last. Far from it.

Would it ever end?

Glumly, he gazed into the muddy depths of his slowly cooling beverage, wishing, not for the first time that day, that it was something far stronger.


Pyrrha trudged through the halls, still slightly off-balance after the last bout in her practical combat class. It was not a matter of technique. Not even close. From a technical aspect, the fight had not been anything worth noting.

Pyrrha was humble, true, but even she easily conceded the fact that, in terms of pure combat prowess, she stood head and shoulders above the majority of her peers. Only a fool would deny what was so plain to see. No, the problem was not one of combat adequacy; the problem lay within herself.

Her condition was worsening.

It affected her to the point that Professor Goodwitch had noted her hindered performance with no small amount of concern. Pyrrha had managed to pass it off as simply being under the weather, but that had been a lie. In truth, an odd sense of ennui had grasped hold of her entire being, as if listlessness had chained her limbs, tethering them to the earth. The merest exertion caused her to become light-headed and dizzy, and it took a supreme amount of diligence and willpower to maintain focus, especially in a fight.

The mystery illness that had plagued her since the start of term had not abated in the least. Instead it had steadily progressed, the paleness that had originally begun in her fingertips having diffused well past her elbows. It was something that could still be hidden with the long gloves she had taken to wearing, but now she dared not remove them in the presence of her team, for fear of the inevitable worry it would cause. She wasn't sure how she would continue to conceal the illness if it spread any further.

More worryingly, though, was that sudden numbness had usurped the ever-present burning in her digits. Wherever the whiteness had spread, her nerves had become deadened to the touch, only capable of gauging certain amounts of pressure, and with very little delicacy. Handling basic tasks with minimal tactile feedback was difficult, nevermind combat, practice or otherwise. So far, she had managed to muster through daily life by the skin of her teeth, but she wasn't certain how much longer she would be able to do so.

The physicians she had seen had all proven unhelpful, stating that they had never before seen anything like her condition. When her queries at the Beacon infirmary had proven fruitless, she had made multiple excursions into the city with barely anything better to show for it.

Apparently, Vale General had had a similar case—particularly that of whitening flesh—a few months prior. The patient, an elderly gentleman who had been held up in a dust robbery had presented with similar symptoms to hers. According to one of the doctors, he had eventually gone mad, attacking his attending nurses before rushing out of the hospital and perishing when a passing car struck him. Pyrrha wanted badly to believe that this was something unrelated, for obvious reasons, but she harbored her doubts.

Contrary to what she told her physicians, the effects of her illness were not merely physical. A perpetual haze had settled over her mind, a mental pollution that fogged her perceptions and made focusing a gargantuan effort. Even basic coordination seemed to be getting more difficult. It felt as if her brain had been hollowed out, and in its place, a vacuous emptiness had been left. When she shut her eyes and looked inward, she could only imagine an all-consuming white void within herself.

Seemingly arising from within her own mind, a niggling voice resonated across the bounds of that emptiness. At least, Pyrrha assumed it was a voice. There was a definite cadence and rhythm to the hushed noises, and the sounds seemed to form almost-words, but her mind proved unwilling to parse them into something intelligible.

"Good afternoon, Miss Nikos."

Pyrrha jarred back to the present at the calmly spoken words. To her confusion, she found herself seated in the clocktower office, Headmaster Ozpin gazing critically at her from across his desk.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster," she replied, dazedly scanning the room. When had she arrived? Had she been so lost in thought that her trek to the tower had gone completely unregistered?

"I'm sure you are wondering why I requested you come here on such short notice," the headmaster began. He, at least, seemed to be unaware of any unusual behaviour on her part. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid that it is a rather lengthy tale, and I must take up quite a bit of your time, if that is alright?"

"Of course," Pyrrha answered automatically, only half paying attention.

"Where to begin," the ancient man murmured.

Though his face remained passive, the hard glint in his eyes seemed to flash harder still, his voice becoming clinically detached. Pyrrha found her attention beginning to gravitate back to the matter at hand, and she could not help but become slightly perturbed. An air of excited tension seemed to filter into the air, seemingly a promise of some immense revelation.

Ozpin watched ponderously over steepled fingers. "Let's begin with this, then," he finally decided. Leaning forward slightly, deep brown orbs boring intensely into green, he asked conspiratorially,

"Miss Nikos, do you believe in fairy tales?"


Jaune loitered about the outside of a cozy, little sweets establishment in Central Vale. His team had been planning a city trip for the day, but Pyrrha had unexpectedly been requested by the headmaster, much to his disappointment. Not wanting to completely overturn their plans, she had instead insisted that they go without her, which led to the current situation of him sitting across from the small shop while his remaining two teammates perused the goods.

"Carmine's Confectionery," The worn storefront sign announced. It was a rather popular establishment, known particularly for their variety of pastries. While Jaune didn't dislike sweets, he certainly did not enjoy them enough to risk braving the crowds that had descended upon the overpopulated store.

In what was clearly a fire hazard, throngs of expectant customers clustered within the shop and crowded the doors and even windows of the confectionery. Carmine's has having a sale today, a dozen sweet rolls for half price. That, coupled with the fact that it was midday on a Friday, meant that the crowds were at their peak, and that it was the worst possible time to decide to visit this particular establishment. This had done little to dissuade Nora, bless her heart, from insisting that they visit anyway, despite Ren and Jaune's best objections.

A sudden, warm, pulsing sensation in his right jacket pocket seized Jaune's idyllically wandering thoughts, and he curiously reached a hand in to inspect it. His fingers brushed against something light and soft and warm to the touch. Odd, he didn't recall placing anything there. Extracting the object, he examined it with no small amount of surprise.

It was a luxurious plume, shining with a golden sheen. He recognized it, of course. It was a keepsake from his master, one that he had promised to cherish. That had made it all the more painful when he realized that he had misplaced the precious object within a week of departing the manor. It had simply vanished one day with him none the wiser.

Yet here it was now, unmistakable and confusingly stowed in the pocket of a ratty jacket. There was simply no way he could have missed it for all this time, Jaune thought as he held the plume aloft. He admired the way each individual strand captured the sunlight and almost seemed to refract it in a show of magnificent iridescence, shimmering, as though it were a flame. More oddly still, it seemed to pulse from within, glimmering with its own internal light. Feeble, yet insistent.

Jaune turned slightly and found the the feather warmed slightly in response. He turned in the opposite direction, and it cooled, it's light growing less vibrant. He glanced around to ensure no one was watching, and then spun in a tight circle, curiously watching for the greatest response from the plume. The warmth and pulsing glow seemed to grow more insistent when he faced west.

Craning his neck peer through the small window of the aged, but well-cared-for establishment from a distance, Jaune could see Nora dragging Ren excitedly through the store, the latter sporting a harried expression and several shopping bags on each arm. It would seem that his teammates would take a while still. Glancing back down at the glowing object in hand, Jaune decided to investigate further. Looking into it a bit wouldn't hurt, right?

Holding the plume before him like a compass, he found that it warmed ever-so-slightly when he faced the center of the plaza, its inner glow becoming marginally more pronounced.

He strolled carefully into the bustling space, and was almost immediately consumed by the mid-afternoon crowds. Bored students, adults who had just gotten off work, and elderly retirees swarmed about the plaza, going about their business. Not one to be particularly assertive, Jaune quickly found himself being jostled about, having to focus to maintain his course.

In a momentary gap in the crowd, he espied a small island in the sea of people, a space that was curiously empty. With a notable effort, he pushed through the bystanders until, with a gasping cry, he stumbled out into the clearing. Taking several breaths to center himself once more, he glanced around to regain his bearings.

A cascade of gray hair passing in his periphery robbed him of his focus, and the feather in his fingers grew almost hot.

"M-master?" He exclaimed reflexively. Turning on his heel, he hurried towards the woman, who had frozen at his shout. "Master Hua, is that you?"

Slowly, the woman turned.

Mortified, Jaune realized that he had been mistaken. His master had always held a stern, yet considerate countenance, and radiated discipline and propriety in her very movements and expression. The eyes that glared back at him from a face eerily reminiscent of his master's held none of that. Bored disinterest peered suspiciously at him with a look that bespoke some mixture of disdain and annoyance. Not quite malicious, but certainly not benevolent.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Jaune exclaimed, cheeks already flushing a ruddy red. "I mistook you for someone else!" He stumbled over his words even as he backed away rapidly, putting some distance between himself and this stranger.

Quizzically, the woman stared at him, and Jaune could almost see the gears turning in her head as she attempted to process the sudden interaction. For some reason, he could not shake the feeling that she examined him the way a researcher would a bug under a microscope—clinical, with a muted sense of intrigue, but wholly detached. Before long, the baleful expression melted away, replaced with an equally unsettling, brilliant look of comprehension that stretched her lips into a sordid grin.

"Well, if it isn't the little disciple!" She exclaimed, a pair of sanguine rubies glittering with what could have been malice or mischief.

Jaune blinked, both at the unexpected manner of address and the sudden familiarity in the tone.

"Worry not, I am indeed your master!" She cheekily asserted, in lieu of a response.

"I...uh….huh?" His mind had difficulty expressing his utter confusion beyond a handful of perfunctory syllables.

They could not be the same person. This woman ran counter to everything Jaune knew about his teacher. It was just far too jarring a difference for him to comprehend. In his confusion, he did not notice as she approached him, eschewing decorum to fling an arm around his shoulder in a commanding grip. The gesture was presumably a friendly one, though the flashing of scarlet orbs and the too-wide smile seemed to suggest otherwise.

"What," she asked, a slightly affronted look flitting across her features as she saw the stony countenance that Jaune had adopted as a coping mechanism. "You've got the nerve to forget your master's face?"

"No!" Jaune yelped, rudely pulled back to the present, the underlying edge of danger lacing her tone jarring him from his daze. "I was just, uh, surprised, that's all."

"Why would you be surprised, you called out to m—"

"Jaune!"

"There you are, Jaune."

The blonde breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief as the remainder of his team approached, cutting off whatever reproaches his master was sure to have.

"Uh, hey guys," he responded, whirling around, both to greet them and so that his master couldn't see the relief that was so blatantly plastered over his features. He respected Master Hua, he truly did, but something about her right now was unnerving him to a great degree. She felt dangerous.

"We left the store and you were gone, so we searched aaall over only to find that you've gotten kidnapped by a pretty woman! Are you cheating on us Jaune!? On Pyrrha!?"

"Nora…"

A sputtering cough cut off Ren's admonishment, as Jaune choked on his own saliva, caught off-guard by the sheer audacity of the statement. Hacking, he crouched over, hands on knees as he attempted valiantly to regain control of his breath.

All the while, his master looked on amused, preening slightly at the "pretty woman" remark. A fine eyebrow arched. "Friends of yours?" she asked, taking advantage of Jaune's incapacitated state.

"Yeah," he rasped a rough response. "I actually got into beacon!" He exclaimed, rising from his hunched state, face a ruddy hue and voice still somewhat strained. Desperate to turn the focus away from his love life, he shifted the topic, gesturing to the pair. "This is my team, Nora and Ren. Nora, Ren, this is Master Hua, she taught me a lot."

"Hi!"

"Pleased to meet you."

She nodded in acknowledgement and placed a hand on her chin. "Beacon...Beacon," she murmured under her breath, seemingly trying to place the word. "Oh. It's that school, right? For hunters? Good for you."

"Y-yeah."

"Good? It's super!" Nora chimed in, slightly affronted by the dismissive tone. "And not only that! He's our leader!"

"...I see," the older woman responded flatly. "Well then, seeing as you're a team, you can tag along as well. Come, disciple." She turned on her heel began striding down a side alley, away from the populated plaza.

"Where, uh, are we going?" Jaune asked even as he fell into step behind her, purely out of habit. From his periphery, he saw Nora and Ren shrug at each other before following as well.

Oddly enough, it was easier to pass through the crowd now, despite their numbers having only grown as the day reached its peak. People seemed to subconsciously avoid them, granting them a wide berth as they passed by.

"I've got some errands to run," his master answered vaguely. "The sort that involves getting people to tell you things that they may not necessarily want to tell you. You've got good timing, I had wanted to see another contact of mine, but I was advised against showing my face around them. I'll just send you instead."

Jaune halted in his track. "Well, uh, we kind of had plans and—"

She mirrored his actions, head turning by a few degrees so that she could peer at him out of the corner of an eye. Even at this angle, Jaune could tell that the friendly facade had evaporated, replaced with the deep creases of a heavy frown.

"Surely, you wouldn't deny an assignment from your master, would you, disciple?"

Jaune clammed up. The feeling of danger had risen precipitously. Where it had previously ebbed and oozed beneath the surface, it now exploded from the depths, saturating the area in a distressingly oppressive atmosphere. Jaune could see Nora and Ren similarly tense, hands straying to where their weapons were stowed. Seconds passed in silence.

"Good," she chirped suddenly, when none of the trio had managed to utter a word for several moments. She clapped her hands together in finality, and the heavy atmosphere was dispelled at the sound. "There's one more place I need to stop by and then I'll tell you where you need to be. Come along."

The trek down the the unused street was an uncomfortable one, at least for Jaune. Ahead of him, his master seemed lost in thought, pondering pensively as they walked. Behind him, he could hear hushed whispers of suspicion being traded between his teammates. He dearly hoped his master was too distracted to notice.

"Say, disciple," Master Hua addressed suddenly.

Jaune stumbled slightly in surprise, "Y-yeah?"

"Remind me again, what was it I taught you?"

Jaune blinked at the bizarre request, but answered nonetheless. "A lot of things," he listed, "swordsmanship, meditation, strategy."

"Hmph. That's it?" The answer seemed to dissatisfy her, for some reason.

"Uh, I guess? Yeah." Internally Jaune began to panic. Had he said something wrong? Was this supposed to be a sort of test?

To his surprise, she seemed crestfallen, more than anything else. "I should've expected her to teach the boring stuff. Well, at least she let you use a weapon instead of your bare hands," the older woman muttered under her breath.

"Pardon?" Jaune asked, unable to hear the quiet complaint.

"Don't worry about it. Say, just knowing how to use a sword is pretty boring, right? What do you say I teach you to use a spear as well? Or a chain-sword?" She seemed strangely eager, now that the topic had shifted to weaponry.

The abrupt shift in moods was beginning to take its toll on Jaune. First quiet, then angry, then disappointed, then excited. He was having trouble keeping up, and he fumbled, struggling to piece words together into a coherent answer.

"U-uh, I think I already have a lot to keep up with," he stammered. "Besides, you were the one who said that I need to focus on becoming adequate in one thing first."

"Did I say that?" The sudden enthusiasm seemed to drain just as quickly as it had come, replaced with bored neutrality. "Never mind, then. We're here."

The establishment that they stood in front of was quite unimipressive. Made of weathered brickwork, it was tucked into an underused alley, far enough from any reasonable foot traffic that Jaune wondered how it remained in business. Sal's Saloon, the unkempt sign standing out front claimed. Besides that, there was little else to indicate that this was an eatery of any sort. Or inhabited, for that matter.

Their entry into the saloon was announced with great fanfare, with his master slamming the door open with an unnecessary amount of force. What few patrons there were—Jaune was surprised to see any at all—glared for a moment and then hastily averted their eyes upon meeting dangerous scarlet.

"Where's this 'Sal' guy? I need to have a word with him," she demanded aloud. She turned for a moment. "You three have a seat wherever. Order something if you like. I'm paying," she instructed, before stalking off to chat with the petrified bartender.

"That's the master you've kept blabbing about?" Nora hissed under her breath as the person in question sauntered away. "She's a weirdo!"

"Nora, manners," Ren chided, ushering her into a vacant booth and taking his place at her side. He addressed their leader. "I have to admit, Jaune, Nora does have a point. Your master does not seem like the most reliable sort of person."

"I'll admit, she's acting a bit strange," Jaune protested, sliding into the seat across from them. "When she was training me she was really calm and composed—the opposite of how she is now, actually."

"That is...very difficult to believe," Ren responded neutrally.

"Yeah, she's a weirdo," Nora reiterated. "But she does seem strong at least."

Ren nodded in agreement. While he wouldn't consider himself an expert in the art, he liked to imagine that he had a fairly good knack for reading people. However, despite her flippant demeanor, the woman's true intentions remained inscrutable. The only thing he could manage to sense was that she was perpetually alert, coiled to spring into action, should the need arise.

"I have to admit," Ren began, "I'm not exactly thrilled to be dragged around like this by someone so...strange," he finished evasively.

Jaune almost nodded in agreement before catching himself. "Look, I trust Master Hua. I'm sure she has a good reason for bringing us around the way she's been doing. I bet right now she's getting this guy to spill some really important information."

"I guess you could say that. It looks like she's threatening the barkeeper," Ren pointed out.

Craning his neck to peer behind him, Jaune found his assessment to be accurate.

The aged, grizzled man, clearly uncomfortable, looked like he deeply did not want to be there at the moment. Master Hua was standing across the oaken division, holding something up in her right hand.

Jaune was unable to see it from his position, but the barkeeper seemed to be staring at it with a mixture of trepidation and confusion.

"What's the most you've ever lost on a coin toss?"

Jaune could hear snippets of her voice filtering through a lull in the general murmur of the tavern. He watched as they exchanged several more inaudible words, the man's face growing paler and more worried as the conversation progressed.

Suddenly, a small, metallic object leapt from the woman's hand high into the air. The bartender's eyes remained glued to it as it oscillated, flashing and reflecting the bar's dim lighting for the barest moment. Then, the object—a coin, it seemed—fell back onto the oaken counter with a muted thump.

The bartender glanced down, a look of relief washing over his features, and the woman nodded, seemingly in approval. She pushed the coin towards the dumbstruck man, which he numbly accepted.

"Don't put it in your pocket," Jaune could hear her warn sharply. "It's your lucky lien. Put it anywhere else, not in your pocket, or else it will get mixed up with all the others and become just a coin." She paused dramatically. "Which it is."

"What was that about?" Jaune asked when the woman approached their cramped booth, shooing him to scoot over so she could take a seat as well.

"Nothing much, just something I saw in a movie a long time ago. I wanted to try it out," she explained with an obnoxious grin. She shook her head, features growing serious. "He didn't know anything. Figures. This guy just up and disappeared from the face of Remnant, if these informants are to be believed. Piss poor at their job, I tell you."

"Who is it you're looking for?" Ren asked curiously.

She hummed in consideration. "Well, I suppose it doesn't hurt to let you know." Fishing a slip of paper from her coat pocket, she flipped it, revealing a photo of a disgruntled man, bowler cap slightly askew. A mugshot from his most recent, abbreviated stint in Vale's justice system.

"Isn't that Roman Torchwick?" Ren asked in surprise, shifting forward to investigate the picture more closely. "You're looking for him?"

"Yep. He's gone and disappeared, much to the dismay of certain people. So we're looking for him. Already sent his little helper out to scope out the Residential District."

"Roman Torchwick...As in that guy who's been robbing dust shops all across Vale?" Jaune paled at the lackadaisical nod sent his way. "You're...working with him?"

"It would seem so."

"But...why!? He's a criminal!" He cried, his teammates nodding vigorously in agreement.

"Because it is necessary," Hua stated flatly. "Well it was necessary," she then corrected. "Don't know why we're still bothering to keep him around after he screwed up."

"I-I don't understand." A look of panicked suspicion shot across the blonde's face. "Are you the one that's getting him to do the robberies?"

Incensed at the accusation, she hissed sharply, "I am most certainly not," before slumping back in exasperation. "A lesson for you, disciple." She seemed slightly annoyed at having to explain herself. "There are some things that supersede matters of human law. When the stakes are as high as they are, you cannot restrict your allies to only those who would serve justice."

Her cheshire grin returned in full force, baring unusually sharp canines. Crimson irises flickered like flames in time to the dying gasps of the incandescent bulb overhead.

"Even if it means making a deal with a devil."

The trio sat, mesmerized by the aura she exuded—one of sheer conviction. She spoke with such absolute authority and experience that refuting her words would be tantamount to apostasy. The hushed conversations of the bar's other patrons seemed to fade into the background, dull and muted, suddenly miles away. The edges of their periphery seemed to darken incrementally. Shadows encroached upon their vision until the only thing that the trio could focus on was the glimmer of lurid scarlet, whose infinite depths sequestered the wisdom of untold ages.

"U-um, did someone order a Pina Colada?"

She blinked, her hand shooting up, and the spell was broken.

Air rushed back into Jaune's lungs. He had unconsciously been holding his breath for those tense few seconds. "So why exactly did we need to be here?" He questioned, as the older woman took a hearty draught from a fruity-looking drink that the waiter had nervously placed before her. "It looks like you scared that poor man half to death." Despite his best efforts, exasperation had begun seeping into his tone.

"He was being uncooperative," she shrugged carelessly. "And you've become awfully familiar. What happened to 'master?'"

Jaune paled, realizing that he had indeed been acting rather informally. "I'm sorry! It's just that you seem a lot more approachable when—" His jaw clacked shut as his brain finally caught up to his tongue.

But his master would not let it go. She latched onto his words. "When what." She questioned flatly, all joviality dropping from her demeanor.

Suddenly, Jaune became intensely aware of exactly why he was normally so deferential to Master Hua. She was scary when she got irritated.

"No, no, go on," she insisted curiously when several moments passed and Jaune had not spoken. Her lips had stretched into a grin once more—one that was anything but friendly. "Finish that thought."

"—when we're not at the manor," he finished weakly. "Like you're a completely different person."

Quietly, the older woman leaned back into her seat.

"Hm. I suppose that would be the case," she murmured, more to herself than those present. "I'm not really like her, after all." The last part she said so softly that the group couldn't quite make it out. "Don't worry about it," she commanded, returning her attention to the trio. "Some things happened, and I'm like this right now."

"That doesn't—"

"As for why I took you with me," she continued, trampling over Jaune's protests, "it's because I need you to go somewhere I've been explicitly told not to go."

"But—"

"She's in the Industrial District, I have her address here." She produced another slip of paper, sliding towards Jaune.

"I...well…" Jaune stammered uncertainly as his gaze jittered between the proffered paper and his Master's expectant face. "Fine," he sighed in resignation, accepting the scrap.

"Excellent," she stated happily.

"Does this acquaintance have information about Torchwick?" Ren piped up, having watched the exchange with a mixture of exasperation and growing alarm.

"Hm, I doubt it," Hua snorted dismissively. "I've never known her to be the meticulous type. She's the sort that likes to run in, guns blazing. Though I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask. The main thing I need you to do is pass on a message. It's all in the note."

"That's all?" Nora pressed, "Why don't you just tell her yourself?"

"I can't show my face around her for...certain reasons."

"Gee, I wonder why," Nora snarked beneath her breath, freezing when she was sharply pinned by a baleful glare.

"Just shut up and go."


"Ooh, ooh maybe she's got a doppelganger!"

"You could have said 'evil twin' and it would have actually made sense."

"Split personality?"

"Nora… No, wait, that actually may be feasible

"Maybe an alien came and possessed her and now they share the same body!"

"Where did that even come from?"

"Yeah, you're right, that one was kind of stupid."

Three distinct voices resonated from the hollowed-out interior of an abandoned building, bouncing off of decrepit walls and echoing, ever ascending. At the first sign of an intruder, Kiana bolted upright from her makeshift bed, and, in a flash, had her trusty bat in hand. She sidled closer to the stairs in order to hear them better.

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Look, this was the address she gave me. Where else are we supposed to go?"

"I don't know! Back to Beacon! Shopping! Anywhere that isn't following the directions of a crazy person!"

"Master Hua is not crazy."

"She acts crazy!"

The building, hollowed out as it was, carried noise a considerable distance, and it was difficult for Kiana to gauge where exactly the interlopers were. At the very least, the distinct sound of footsteps told her that they were ascending the stairwell.

"Well, it certainly looks like someone's been living here," the third voice, calmer, more collected, noted.

The group must have found her previous "nest" on the third floor. That means they were two below her.

"This building's too big. I'll cover the rooms on this floor. Nora, take the next one. The one after that should be the top, Ren. Yell if you find anything."

"Aye aye, leader," the chipper voice responded.

"Alright,"said the calm one.

Without wasting another moment, Kiana bound towards a wall, using it as leverage to propel herself further upwards. The ceiling of this portion of the building had long since worn away through rot and other natural processes, and the rafters lay exposed for all to see. Kiana managed to catch one of the beams and hoisted herself upwards into the darkened recesses of the roof, huddling as best she could behind one of the thicker, vertical struts.

Not a moment too soon, as the approaching footsteps grew louder, more defined, and seconds later, a lean, dark-haired boy trod cautiously from the stairwell. He immediately took note of her recently-vacated makeshift bed—a discarded sofa that she had spent the better part of a night hauling here—and pressed a hand to it.

"Still warm," Kiana heard him note. "Hello?" He called aloud, "Is anyone there?"

Curiously, Kiana peeked around her cover, downwards. She had heard the mention of "Beacon," which had piqued her interest. Craning her neck as best she could, she shuffled about on the tenuous scaffolding in an attempt to gain a better vantage point.

"Who's there!" Came the immediate cry as the movement sent the dilapidated wood creaking, and wafts of dust drifting gently downwards.

She stiffened before clicking her tongue. The calm one was observant.

"Yell for help and I'm getting out of here," she warned, revealing herself somewhat, but not stepping out from behind the supporting beam.

"I am not your enemy," the boy stated reassuringly, his head turning to her approximate location. "My name is—"

"Ren, yeah, I heard," she interrupted warily. "Sound carries pretty well in this place, y'know. It's pretty rude to come to someone's place uninvited.

"I apologize, but we were asked to meet with the person living at this address."

"What part of this building would have made you think anyone lived here?" Kiana shot back. "No one should know that I'm here, but clearly someone does. What do they want?"

"Would you come down?" He requested, rather than answering. "It's odd trying to talk to someone I can't see.

She scoffed. "Three, maybe more? Unknowns have entered my base unannounced and armed," Her gaze flickered to the twin guns at his waist. "I don't think so," she stated bluntly. "Whatever you need to tell me, I'll hear it from up here.

Ren sighed, but acquiesced. "We are looking for a thief by the name of Roman Torchwick. We were told that you might know something that could help in tracking him down."

"The really gaudy-looking guy?" Kiana asked in surprise. "Whoever told you that I had information has no idea what they're talking about. I fought him at the docks about a week or two ago, but haven't heard anything about him since."

"You fought him at the docks?" Ren repeated, surprised. "Was there, by any chance, a cat-faunus girl there too?"

"Yeah, I helped her and the monkey boy fight him, what about it?"

"You're the one that helped Blake?" He glanced around, seeming to finally notice her mask lying haphazardly amongst the pile of her other, few belongings. "You're the Moonlight Huntress?"

"That's what the news is calling me," she responded stiffly. While Kiana didn't particularly dislike the moniker that she had been given, it was still quite embarrassing to be called that directly.

"Blake, huh, so that's her name?" Kiana murmured before addressing the boy once more. "Sorry to disappoint you, Ren, but I'm not going to be much help here," she said, genuinely apologizing. "I did fight him, but he got away. No one knows where he's gone. Not even the brokers know anything. Good riddance, I say."

"I suppose I should have expected as much," Ren sighed. "She did say that she didn't expect you to know anything."

"Who was it that sent you to find me, anyway?"

"She asked us not to mention her by name," Ren stated apologetically.

"Of course she did. They always do."

She? Kiana didn't know a "she" who might be possibly seeking her out. To begin with, she personally knew precious few people in Vale, let alone anyone that Beacon students would associate with.

"So if that's not the main reason you came to find me, what was?" she finally asked after a moment of contemplation.

"She asked us to pass on a message. She said she wanted to do it herself, but had been told not to approach you."

Kiana frowned. The clues that she was being slowly fed only served to confuse her further. She couldn't think of a single person who fit those criteria.

"A message? That's it? Well, what is it?" She asked, shelving the thoughts for later.

"She thinks something is going to happen in Vale soon. Something dangerous."

"Something like…?"

Ren shook his head. "She didn't say. All she said was that it was probably going to happen during the day in some crowded location, and to keep an eye out."

Kiana almost groaned aloud. Why could no one in this city just be straightforward? "It's better than nothing, I guess. Thanks for letting me know," she said tersely. "I'll be ditching this place the moment you all leave, so don't bother coming back to look for me."

Ren nodded, "I see, sorry for intruding."

The form in the rafters nodded, waving distractedly as she seemed to ponder the newly-obtained information.

Kiana waited several minutes before dropping back down to the ground. Peeking from the window, she could see three figures far below making their way away from the building. Ren, a blonde and a redhead.

She trudged back to her sofa and fell back on it with a small groan. She was going to have to move. It unnerved her to realize that someone had so effortlessly tracked her, only to leave her unbothered until now. She would have to be more careful in the future.

A rasping croak at the sill drew her attention. The same, or what she assumed to be the same, black bird that had been periodically checking in on her perched in the glassless opening. The bird had stubbornly kept returning to this place after she had settled in. Maybe this had been its nesting grounds before she took over or something.

Kiana sighed again. "Well, Crow," she wasn't terribly creative with naming, "it looks like I'll have to go house hunting tonight.


Hua supposed she should have felt bad, though the fact that this revelation did little to stir any feelings of guilt meant that there wouldn't be much in the way of repentance.

She had known from the start that asking around in Vale would have been an entirely fruitless endeavor, yet still insisted that they make the rounds regardless. The old-timer was likely similarly aware of this, but she was nothing if not rigorous. Even if she knew that revisiting Vale's information networks was largely a lost cause, she would still have it done, if only for the sake of absolute certainty. That strict adherence to thoroughness was a facet of her personality that had remained steadfast throughout the course of millenia, and something that Hua took great care to exploit whenever she could.

In truth, Hua had spent the majority of the day messing around. The real reason behind her insistence that they search was, to put it simply, that she was itching to be out and about, walking on her own two feet again. If that meant she needed to spend the day babysitting an angry child and pretending to seek information about their disappeared colleague, then so be it.

Not that she had done much in the way of babysitting. The pastel brat had gotten on her nerves quite early into the excursion. The girl was entirely too antagonistic, a fact that was not helped by her inability to speak. As such, the brat had taken to expressing her discontent via glares and various rude gestures at every opportunity. It was aggravating beyond belief.

Hua had finally opted to send her out on a wild goose chase to the Residential District just to get the irate teen out of her hair for a while. She had then proceeded to head in the opposite direction, spending the rest of the day meandering about Vale's Commercial District.

She had been pleasantly surprised to stumble upon the old-timer's disciple. Hua had never particularly cared for the lanky, awkward blonde. He was simply too unimpressive for her to take any amount of interest in.

In terms of combat, he didn't amount to much more than an especially determined civilian. In itself, that would not have been something she found so disagreeable, if only he hadn't also adamantly insisted on becoming a Huntsman. It was something that he was entirely unsuited for, and he had struggled so pathetically that even Hua had found it embarrassing to watch. Exactly why the old-timer had chosen to train him, even after seeing his lackluster abilities, was something that she found entirely inexplicable.

That said, crossing paths with the disciple this time proved to be enough of a boon for her to tolerate his mediocrity, at least for a time. The kid had gotten stronger, at least. That much she could acknowledge. However, he was still so obviously lacking that she marveled that he had not yet been kicked out of that huntsman school. Luckily, combat prowess did not factor into Hua's plans for the boy.

For some time, she had been quite bothered by how the old-timer refused to make their presence known to Kiana. She understood that it was a worry born from an abundance of caution, but that didn't stop it from being annoying. As far as she was concerned, the time for subtlety had long since passed.

So she had opted to take matters into her own hands. It wasn't often that she was able to physically roam about unsupervised, after all. Best make the most of it. Even more so if an opportunity just fell into her lap.

If she could just slightly nudge Kiana into a more active position, something more than just stringing up minor crooks, then what was the harm? If something nasty poked its head out as a result, then they just needed to beat it down again. She was good at that.

In any case, Hua thought slyly, It wasn't as if she had directly done anything to defy her companion's decision. She had simply sent the disciple on an errand and it was an utterly astounding coincidence that he had run into their shared acquaintance.

A presence suddenly making itself known in her mind alerted Hua to the return of the body's other occupant.

"I'm back, did something happen?" Her partner asked suspiciously, evidently sensing some of the less-than-truthful sentiments that she was harboring.

"No, no, nothing interesting," Hua was quick to deny, before diverting the subject. "As expected, no one has any information. Any luck on your end, old timer?" She spoke out loud, uncaring of the curious glances being thrown in her direction by random passersby.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," came the reply. "It would appear that our adversary has become aware of the tracking devices we had planted in the shipments. As it stands, they have scattered them throughout the kingdom."

"Hm. Decoys?"

"It would appear so. At the very least, it seems they mean to slow us down."

"They must have really scrambled to get them out in just two weeks. Do you suppose they're banking on us figuring out which is the real target?" Hua asked thoughtfully. "It's almost certainly a trap."

"Almost certainly," Fu Hua agreed, sounding every bit as unphased about the idea as her counterpart.

Hua shrugged. "Well then, lead the way," she said, ceding control of the body back to its original inhabitant. Scarlet irises bled away to blue, and stern diligence usurped casual mischievousness once more.

"We will check the furthest target first and work our way back to Vale" Fu Hua stated without missing a beat or breaking stride. "If Cinder's goal is to distance us from the city, then it would be the most obvious choice."

"You're in charge," Hua yawned from within their mind. "Wake me if anything interesting happens."

Fu Hua huffed slightly at her companion's attitude as she felt her prominence in their mind diminish to almost nothing. Hua was still there, she knew, but in a state of dormancy, similar to meditation.

She shook her head before confirming their first destination. The majority of the tracking devices had been displaced within the bounds of Sanus. Of the scattered targets, she had deemed only a handful of them to be promising leads.

Projecting their consciousness was an ability that fell well within the domains of their power, but it was not one that they could carelessly utilize. In this place, they were sealed off from Imaginary Space, the font of their strength. Save for some occasional seepage from cracks in the firmament, Remnant was relatively stagnant when it came to the degree of available ambient energy, severely limiting what they could and could not do.

Granted, the levels of Honkai radiation in recent ages had become significantly more elevated than when they had first arrived, but it was still nowhere near enough to fully supply a Herrscher-class entity. They needed to be prudent with the expenditure of their power. The best that Fu Hua had been able to do within these restrictions were several shallow scans of the areas where their targets lay.

Now that she shared full authority of the Core of Sentience, the plumes of Fenghuang Down acted more as extensions of herself, which she had scattered across the lands of Remnant over the course of their eternal vigil. If it was merely a matter of projecting her will towards an extant feather, the cost was negligible.

From there, she could focus her attention on the general location of the closest targets, seeking out any concentrated clusters of living entities. A staging area or base of operations for a terrorist group was bound to be densely populated. Conversely, if they were merely decoys, then there would be little reason in actually having personnel stationed at the location.

She likened the process to sonar. Very little detailed information was preserved, save for vague generalities like location and quantity. Except in this case, the active "pings" covered large swaths of the Sanus mainland. It had taken a fair bit of time to parse the overwhelmingly jumbled mass of information, but she had eventually succeeded in forming a rough map of the most likely candidates to begin their search.

Of them, one stood out. It was the only beacon that did not lie strictly within Vale's borders, instead falling just shy of the line that demarcated the kingdom from its neighbor, Vacuo. A perfunctory search on her scroll revealed that the specific location had once been a chain of dust-rich deposits, upon which several mining sites had been established only to be subsequently abandoned several decades later.

It was so blatantly out of place that there could be no doubt that it was a challenge. Come get me.

A grim expression tightened her lips and furrowed her brow. Very well. If she was being challenged, then she would accede.


I am sorry. Despite my best efforts, I managed to catch the 'rona. The last few weeks have been unpleasant. I still don't have my sense of smell or taste back yet. My appetite has returned, though, so I'm eating more than is probably good for me and I'm not even granted the luxury of actually tasting it. It sucks. 0/10 experience, would not recommend.

My brain is still a bit of a jumbled mess and I'm still readjusting to actually being active again, but I really wanted to get something out. I've put off writing for entirely too long. So long, in fact, that everything in this chapter just seems bad to me. I know I'm probably over-analyzing it since I've spent too much time working on it, but it's still a rather disheartening feeling.

Senti no scamming.

Next chapter, Fu Hua is Saving Private Roman, and Vale is very explicitly taught the meaning of the words "gaping hole."