With everything that had happened in the past few days, Ozpin was willing to admit that maybe he had gone a bit too far in approaching how to test Summer Rose.

In his defense, it was supposed to be a simple mission. Everything that he had said to Summer Rose before sending her off into the forest five days ago (or was it six now?) was true. Her role was supposed to be very minimal and she shouldn't have fought anything particularly worse than an Alpha Beowolf. He knew that she could handle it. Any freshman that he accepted into Beacon could, let alone a silver-eyed warrior, even if her abilities were dormant.

He pushed those thoughts to the side. What he had said before wouldn't change what he had allowed to happen in the present. The fact of the matter was, as much as it left a bad taste in his mouth to admit it; that he had sent Summer Rose into the Emerald Forest. Alone.

That decision had quite possibly cost her life.

For what felt like the tenth time that day, Ozpin stared down at his coffee, into the eyes of his distorted reflection. His normally stoic face frowned back up at him.

Ozpin shook his head, pressing his lips to his mug and tilting back to let the now lukewarm liquid wash across his tongue and down his throat, savoring the coffee's bitter aftertaste as he pulled away.

A soft rapping echoed through the room from a series of knocks on his door, just barely audible over the mechanical hum and grind of the gears around him. "Headmaster Ozpin? We're back from looking around the Emerald Forest. We have our report ready for you."

Ozpin set the mug down. "Come in."

The dual doors silently swung open, allowing two people to stride inside. Taking the lead was a young woman with hair as golden as the sun pulled into a braid. Glynda, his assistant, walked out with a blank face, minus the small wrinkles resting in between her eyebrows. She strode towards the desk quickly, holding a stack of papers to her chest.

Following just behind her was a man that easily stood a head taller than her, what skin not covered by plated armor marred by numerous scars. He looked around the office as he slowly made his way towards the desk with heavy steps, coming to a stop just behind Glynda and staring down at the headmaster with steely eyes. A tiny grimace could be seen on the man before a low and rough voice spoke. "You look tired Ozpin. Things not going according to your plan?"

Glynda turned a warning glare toward the knight. "That is no way to talk to the Headmaster Mr. Winchester."

"It's Osprey, Glynda." The knight glanced at her, his armored fingers adjusting their grip on the shaft of a massive mace swung over his shoulder, before he turned back to Ozpin. "Things never seem to go your way do they."

Glynda stepped in front of the knight, quickly settling the stack of papers onto the headmaster's desk. "Sir, after a brief excursion into the forest, Mr. Winchester and I have confirmed that the forest is currently host to a large number of extremely powerful Grimm. I'm afraid that until the situation is sorted it would not be wise to allow students access to it." She slipped a specific paper out of the pile. "I took the liberty of detailing what we found out there, as well as providing you the paperwork to seal off the Emerald Forest from the students."

"Thank you, Glynda." Ozpin pushed the paperwork to the side of his desk, putting down his drink on a coaster. "Did you manage to confirm Ms. Rose's safety?"

Glynda nodded and stepped backward, her eyes beginning to drift towards the floor. "I'm sorry, sir, but we…. we didn't find any signs of Summer Rose." She clasped her hands in front of her stomach.

".…I was afraid that would be the case." He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyelids pressing together. Taking a deep breath, he put on a small hopeful smile, opening his eyes to the duo in front of him. "Still, it's possible that she is alive. Grimm are always active a few days after noticing silver eyes in their territory; perhaps this continued influx simply means that she is still somewhere in the forest."

Glynda's eyes looked to the side. "That... might be, sir, but we cannot keep stretching our resources thin trying to search for her in these conditions, especially not with the students at risk. We need to block it off."

"You could just inform the teachers of this predicament." The sound of metal clanging against itself filled the room as the knight walked forward, leaning his mace against the desk and grabbing the paper that Glynda had pulled out. "I would personally suggest that you don't let this get out, sir."

"And why would that be, Mr. Winchester?" Glynda stepped forward, turning her body to the side and glaring daggers at the taller man. "The forest is too dangerous for the students. The headmaster shouldn't allow for reckless endangerment of their lives!"

"It's Osprey, Glynda. Just call me by my name." His voice was gravelly and hoarse, lips pressing into that thin line as soon as he was finished speaking.

Ozpin winced at the obvious strain in the mans voice, waving a hand placatingly at Glynda as she opened her mouth indignantly. "Let Osprey speak Glydna. His experiences are different to our own."

"Thank you, sir." Osprey's eyes softened for a thin moment before returning to that intensity that Ozpin was familiar with. "I would suggest you keep it silent because it won't solve anything. Students already need a teacher to enter the forest. Informing only the teachers would accomplish the same goal without alerting the student body."

Ozpin's brow raised. "So you want us to prevent word of the large influx of powerful Grimm from reaching Vale and frightening the public?"

The knight nodded, stepping back from the desk to stand next to Glynda. "While locking down wouldn't intentionally lead to a leak, we all know from experience that teenagers are not good at keeping quiet."

Ozpin's head shook slightly in agreement, before turning to Glynda. "Please go and inform the staff of the situation regarding the Emerald Forest, and that there are to be no exercises or lessons held there. Do your best to prevent any student from overhearing this decision."

The woman nodded curtly, taking the unused papers with her to shred before turning on one heel and exiting the office.

Ozpin waited as the elevator descended to the bottom levels of Beacon. Once the elevator's hum had disappeared, his head swiveled back to the knight. "Have you discovered anything, Osprey?"

"No, sir." Osprey slid his great helm over his face, the voice coming out now having a metal tinge to its hoarseness. "The investigation interrupted my last lead. I was going to resume searching as soon as I made certain that Summer was not somewhere reachable in the forest."

"Is this not of more importance?"

"Doing what I can to save lives is important, Ozpin." The helm tilted slightly to the side, a shadow obscuring the steely gaze within. A steely undertone blended with his rasping voice. "You don't get to decide whose lives are worth saving more."

Ozpin tilted his head. "Will finding her not save more lives, Osprey?"

"You're focused on lives that aren't in danger yet rather than those that you willingly sent to their deaths now?"

"That was a mistake, and one I will bear for the rest of my life." Ozpin straightened his shoulders, leaning forward slightly and pressing his hands into his desk, speaking tautly. "But this is more pertinent. You're one of my most trusted confidants, Osprey. It's why I assigned you this to begin with."

"You didn't assign me anything, Ozpin." The knight reached forward, jerking the handle of his mace towards him. "I did this of my own accord. And unlike you, I'm going to do what I can to find Summer Rose while there is still time."

Ozpin pressed his lips together, forcing himself off his desk and into the back of his chair. "Continue as soon as you are able to then please. We cannot risk her falling into the wrong hands."

The helmet dipped slightly, and Osprey turned after Glynda, descending from the office until Ozpin could no longer hear metal scraping against itself.

Ozpin's brows sunk as he brought the mug back up to his lips, letting the cold fluid wash across his tongue. Maybe Osprey was right, putting his focus on saving lives now. And who was he to judge that decision? After all, it was his fault that any of this was happening in the first place.

Hopefully, Osprey could fix that mistake.

Marin twisted his torso, guiding the scythe's blade through long stalks of wheat. The golden grain fell to the soil below as the blade passed effortlessly through.

Normally it was relaxing to be out here, doing simple work. The ease in which he usually slid into the same routine of tending to the fields would typically be a relief to the blond teenager. Farmwork was usually a welcome change from helping to evacuate the village from the Grimm hordes, and tend to its inhabitants was the entire reason that he was out here.

And yet, despite the soothing nature of the work he was attempting to immerse himself in, Marin couldn't help but look up towards the Bullhead that was flying overhead, tossing the heads of wheat about in its knew his attention wasn't drawn to the sight of a Bullhead so far from Vale's walls. While it was unusual, his real interest lay with its occupants, the true saviors of his village. Along with Marin's Father of course. They were Hunters and Huntresses. The slayers of Grimm. Heroes.

Marin still remembered the awe he felt when he had the honor of working with one to protect his family and friends, while the rest and his father took care of the Grimm. They were quick and flawless, evacuating the village without breaking a single sweat. When invited to stay for a feast in their honor, they spoke of the tales they had gathered while traveling with an allure that Marin couldn't escape from.

As early as he could remember, Marin wanted to be like them. It was a dream he was no closer to reaching than that Bullhead in the clouds, and yet he could never quite lose that urge. To be something more. To travel the world, to explore ancient ruins and push back that inky darkness to another day. To save people. To be a hero.

"Thought I'd find you out here, Marin." A rough, calloused hand slammed onto his shoulder, pulling the teenager out of his thoughts. Shrugging the limb off of his shoulder, Marin turned around, leaning on the metal head of his scythe as he stared up at his father.

There was a smile on the hero's tanned face. Marin fought to keep his shoulders straight, recognizing the plastered smile which didn't quite reach his father's eyes. It pulled on the hairs of his golden beard unnaturally, his blue eyes peering back down into Marin's own with a sullen slope of his brow.

"Hey, Dad." Marin tried to keep his face straight, but judging by how the older man's smile disappeared; he knew he didn't quite manage to prevent the frown struggling to form.

His father's eyes gazed down, his hands picking at the fibers of his jeans. "You weren't at the launch pad today. The team wanted to see you before their Bullhead left to Vale."

"They wanted to see me? Or did they want to see the son of the village chief?" Marin shook his head and turned back to the field. "Besides, I thought that I'd work on getting these fields ready yesterday, so I got up early to work on it."

His father shook his head and looked to the side, pressing his hands deep into his pockets as he looked across the rows of growing wheat. The hero's nose wrinkled and his eyes squeezed tight before he turned his head back to his son. "You… don't have to do that, you know?"

He shrugged, the saliva in his throat falling into the pit in his stomach. "Do what?"

"You know what, Marin." His Father's ocean blue eyes narrowed, before softening and turning back to the horizon, gazing at the rolling green hills that met the sharp rocky mountains far beyond the confines of the village. "Pretend that you're fine with this."

"Maybe." He accompanied the noncommittal response with a shrug, turning and twisting his torso, swinging the scythe blade through the wheat in a smooth arc. "But I have to live with it regardless."

"Marin Arc." His father chided.

"Yeah?" He pressed the blade of the scythe into the soil, turning to meet his father's eyes.

"Is this why you weren't at the launchpad? I know you wanted to go to Beacon, Marin. I do." Marin felt an icy pressure wrapping around his heart as his father spoke. " You were so excited to attend that you were talking about it for months. But you can't keep letting it drag you down. You're only seventeen, there is always next year."

Marin exhaled a stream of bitter air, the pit gnawing at his stomach. His throat swelled, almost feeling like it was clamping down on his voice. "Yeah, and then next year I'll still be 'needed' here. And the year after that. And the year after that, until I'm too old to become a Huntsman"

"The village needed you a few days ago, Marin." His father pointed out, crossing his arms and a frown etching itself onto his face. "The people needed you there. Maybe you didn't realize it while tending to the injured, but you helping was a comforting presence."

Marin snorted, glaring back up at his father. "I'm sure that I could've been much more helpful if I could actually fight out there instead of doing nothing in a cave."

"Nothing?" His father's eyes widened before he shook his head, looking down at Marin. "Marin, there's more to being a Huntsman than just fighting! You helped one of the Huntresses tend to our village!"

Marin stepped forward, staring up at his father with narrowed eyes, "There wouldn't be so many wounded if you would just let me fight! If you would just let me learn!"

"You want to be a Huntsman but you don't want to do anything other than fight! This attitude is exactly why I didn't let you go this year, Marin!" His father's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth with a retort on his tongue, before he shut it abruptly, cheeks flaring red. Narrowed eyes glared down at Marin, his massive chest expanding before he pushed the air out through his nose out into the cool evening air. He placed his hands on his hips, looking down upon his son. "Tell me again why you want to go to Beacon, Marin."

"You know why!" Marin's fingernails dug into his palms, his feet shifting on the dirt as heat began to build underneath his skin.

His father hunched over, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning to his son. "Just humor me, Marin. Please."

"Because I want to be a Huntsman. Like you, like my grandfather, like our ancestors! I want to go fight Grimm and help people!" He frowned. The heat in his words became empty the longer he went. His throat felt tight once again, trembling as he spoke. "I want to be a hero."

Marin felt calloused fingers close tight around his shoulder, his father crouching to his knees and then hunching down to match his son's gaze. "And you need to go to Beacon to do that? To be a hero?"

"Well... yeah." Marin shrugged the hand off and stepped back. "I need to be a Huntsman to uphold that legacy, and I can't do that if I don't go to Beacon."

"You don't need to uphold any legacy, Marin. That's not why I made this village. That's not why I raised you here, away from the academies and kingdoms." The voice reaching Marin's ears was soft, but firm, crossing the distance between them with ease. "You don't need someone to give you a title to do what's right."

A pounding began to erupt in Marin's ears. "Easy for you to say." He scoffed, stepping further backward. "You're already a Huntsman. Everyone looks up to you. You have everything already."

"You won't be a hero by becoming a Hunstman Marin. I know you think that will be all you need but—" His father squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before staring down at Marin. "A hero is so much more."

Neither of them spoke, the silence and tension between them growing thick before his father's gravelly voice trembled in the light of the setting sun. ".…I'll be inside the house if you want anything, Marin."

Marin turned away in response, gripping the shaft of the scythe with dry hands as his father walked away. His skin felt tight against his face, intensifying the burning heat washing across his cheeks. Marin had often been told by those in the village that he and his father shared a lot in common, but never quite believed it. Sure, he would admit that they looked practically identical, or at least he presumed he would once he grew his beard. And he wouldn't be afraid to admit that they were both excellent workers, the best in the village as far as he was concerned. Everything that they did; they put their back into. He always gave it his all with both body and mind until the task was completed. But that… that was where the similarities ended.

Marin's father was a hero, and before his grandfather had died; so were they. Both his father and grandfather were strong, selfless, and courageous. The village didn't call in a huntsman for every Grimm sighting, because his father was around to handle the threat. His father was the strongest man in the village. His broad shoulders could pick up even the burliest of tree trunks and bring them from the forest edge to the sawmill. And that strength didn't come from working a farm.

It didn't matter whether it was Beowolves, Ursa, even King Taitju. If it was a Grimm, his father could and did handle it. Unlike Marin, his dad and his Grandfather were heroes. They were looked up to by everyone. They weren't afraid of setting their neck on the line for the village time after time again, fighting back the inky darkness that permeated their world.

They were nothing like him.

"So, when will you take me to this woman that wants me so much?" Summer's arms and wrists ached underneath the bindings that dug into her clothes and flesh. But at least her arms were in front of her, and her legs only had one rope cutting into her skin. She prodded her boots at the small dust fueled fire that the Grimm, or Myrh according to it, had let her start.

It felt weird to refer to the creature standing before her as Myrh, as if it wasn't a Grimm, probably older than she could imagine, and therefore incredibly dangerous. Its ability to talk, hell, the fact that it had a name for itself, albeit one that it didn't choose, was shocking enough, let alone the effort it had gone to in providing food for her.

Speaking of that effort, she turned her attention to the flame and spotted one of her belongings being used by the Grimm to cook her next meal. It was her weapon, Gibbous Reign, a once beautiful sword spear which the Grimm had reduced to a crude griddle. Sizzling along the flat part of the blade were small segments of meat from the kills the Grimm had brought her, coating the once flawless white blade and golden trim with a thick layer of grease.

Tearing herself from her pride and joy, she instead found her gaze drifting towards the Grimm, tracing her eyes along the horns extending out the back of its head as she waited for a response. Summer's wrist bound hands reached forward, flipping the pieces of meat over before quickly pulling back to prevent any burns.

"I do not plan on taking you anywhere." The Grimm stared down at her before shifting its gaze to her bindings.

She held in a smirk as Myrh just barely shifted in place. There was nothing to do during the time the Grimm had held her hostage. Nothing except study it and its mannerisms. At first, its expressions were hard to make out on the statue-like face, but for the week that she had been kept down here she had talked to it, and it was easy to see how it always squirmed or averted its gaze away from her.

A groan rumbled up Summer's throat and she closed her eyes. "So when do you plan on telling her then?

"I cannot tell her about you."

"Oh?" She reached forward, picking a smaller piece of meat off of the blade and bringing her arms up to her chest; leaning down to nibble at the meat. "Why can't you?"

"You are disrupting my connection to anything beyond the area surrounding the city of Vale. It's like a foggy wall. I cannot reach through it." Myrh's gaze narrowed just the slightest bit.

Summer pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing. "I'm tied up who knows how far underneath Beacon. How can I do anything?"

"It's something that you are doing subconsciously."

"How?"

"Your eyes."

"Yeah?" Summer grabbed another cutlet, cooling the sizzling meat before bringing it to her lips. She took a quick bite before speaking next. "What about them?"

Myrh stared down at her. "Your eyes are preventing me from extending my influence. It feels like they are dulling the edges of my mind."

"My eyes?" The orbs in question widened. "How can they be responsible for that?"

"Silver eyes are an extremely rare trait."

"Okay…" She swallowed the last of the meat, kicking dirt over the fire as best she could to extinguish it. "Good for me, I guess?"

"They are the reason that she wants you." The Grimm kept its expression blank as it spoke, the red patterns on it throbbing in time with the flames. "They belong to an ancient warrior clan that predates the kingdoms; predates even the concept of hunters and huntresses."

Her reflection glinted off the blade, bright silver eyes staring back at her. "Well, what was so special about them then?"

"Those with silver eyes are… extremely powerful. Even before their powers are awakened, they are called to lead the life of a warrior; to become the best of the best." Myrh's swirling red orbs bored into her head. "If their power is truly realized, there is very little that can truly stand in the way of a silver eye warrior. It's why she wants you, why she's scared of you."

"Grimm are scared of silver eyes?" Summer tore her eyes from the blade towards her captor.

"No." Its gaze remained blank. "Grimm do not have souls. We do not have emotions. We cannot fear."

Summer raised a brow into the air, fixing it with an inquisitive look. "But she, the Grimm that wants me, you said that they were afraid of me? Of my silver eyes?"

"She is not a Grimm. She has a soul, twisted as it is. And that allows her to recognize threats, and fear their ability to disrupt her plans. You are one such threat."

Summer looked down at her clasped hands. That didn't make sense. Nothing about what was going on made sense. Whatever he, Myrh— it, claimed to be doing, it was still a Grimm. And Grimm… they didn't do whatever this was.

The entire time that Summer was holed up in this cave, that creature had provided for her. Whenever she had complained about being cold it had gone off and collected fire dust for her to warm herself with; even after a failed attempt to escape. It had gathered small kills for her to feed herself with. It had kept her safe far underneath the surface from both its Grimm and natural wildlife, despite what she knew about Grimm.

Most interestingly, Myrh had never held back when answering her questions. Even when The Grimm could not give her the answer she wanted, it had still responded, even going so far as to explain why it could not, or would not. Summer had gleaned an impressive stockpile of info about not only the Grimm that was her captor, but also the situation she was stuck in, simply by talking to it.

So if this creature had gone out of its way to feed her, to protect her, to be forthcoming with any question she asked; then why did this feel so unusual? There was no sign that it was lying before or now, and yet what it stated still felt unbelievable.

Summer raised her silver eyes towards the Grimm, which shifted in response but held her gaze. " If this were true, then how do I 'realize' this power? I feel like it should've manifested long before now if everything you said was true."

The Grimm remained silent for a few moments, staring down at Summer. Right as she was about to repeat her question, its inky black jaws cracked open. "I will not answer that question. Allowing you to recognize your powers would be directly in opposition to her interests."

The corners of her lips pulled down across her skin. "Fine." Summer shrugged her shoulders, doing her best to wrap the corners of her white cloak around herself. "Then at least tell me this. If these silver-eyed warriors were so strong; then why are they so rare now?"

Despite the stone-like face Myrh kept, the response to her question felt familiar, in a sickly sense. Like she had looked over something painfully obvious. Summer's eyes widened as the Grimm leaned closer towards her, its mouth opening to reveal sharp teeth. She struggled to kick her legs, shoving her backward in response, the Grimm tilting his head to the side as the answer echoed out.

"She had them hunted. Just like you hunt us."

Hey guys, sorry this took ages to get out to you. Life got busy and honestly I just forgot with everything thats been happening lol

However I do want to give a huge thanks to ShalinTheSilent and Roman, the two editors that helped me work on this. It might not be perfect as is but trust me: it was wayyyyy worse before those two looked over it.