Ruby said nothing as her uncle took another drink from his half-empty flask, bumping up and down in her seat as he drove across unpaved roads. She had never ridden shotgun before, and did not wish to ever again. Genetics and time had been unkind to her height, meaning that she couldn't even peek out the window without stretching as far as she could.
There was no rain on this damned night, no tears from the heavens that had decided humanity was nothing more than entertainment. No cries for when one of their main heroines died, not even an uproar for an encore. They had no concept of satisfaction. Not even the idea that things need to be ended in a proper way, even if that way is unfavorable for all parties.
Catharsis was a necessary element, and one that was missing from this evening. Qrow would give no closure to Summer nor to this infernal cycle that consumes all that touch it. There would be no satisfaction gained tonight for any participant, willing or otherwise. Just a longing, a feeling that things never should have turned out the way they did, that there was a path that should have been taken by fate, but was untrodden.
And on this night, with no snow or rain, nothing to cloud the stars above nor the evil moon, there was an energy that one might think this is where a story might end. One where a tragedy would end with a whimper and what fools would call 'thematic closure'. An acceptance from all parties— even the gods— that befit this bloodthirsty and unreasonable planet that demanded sacrifice.
The ending of two decades of regret and misunderstanding would come to fruition, but dear reader, it would not come in a way that anyone desired or foresaw.
The car lurched as a tire squealed in its death throes, forcing the car to come to a halt. Qrow's tie to Luck once again twisting his path, changing it ever so slightly.
"C'mon, Rubes." Qrow told his niece, making sure that she was adequately dressed for the night, helping her out of the car and onto the dirt path. The two Grimm reapers walked side by side. Qrow kept close to her, keeping an eye on the sedentary and boring woods. Not even animals were out, except for a solitary Raven just out of eyesight.
Although there was a solitary specter that trotted behind them, her true, original form breaking through what she thought she looked like. Gone was her body, her hands that had laid many a Grimm to rest, and her silver eyes. She was little more than pulsing, pulverized flesh that was molded to human form in only the loosest sense. Not even her form in death would be salvaged from what the gods had imposed upon her, as nothing was sacred to them.
The true form of Summer Rose's specter marched behind them, generating hate. For that's all she was good for, now. An unintentional, but not innocent mother of monsters. Drawing them towards her, feeding them just by her mere presence.
No Grimm dared approach the hallowed grounds.
Dinah's point was a cliff that overlooked a large valley, one that Ruby would recognize from her dreams. Nightmares to any other, but one where she slaughtered and was slaughtered by Grimm endlessly. Imposed on her by her mother's specter, but not out of hate. Out of love, and a wish to ensure that her daughter was not powerless in a world that demanded evolution out of even eight year old girls.
Every night she had given this tortuous dream to her daughter, watched her die over and over again. Every time her daughter survived the onslaught, bloodied and bruised, she allowed the Grimm to adapt. Stagnation is surely the enemy of man, and the archenemy of hunters. A concept that needed to be struck down in Ruby's mind early on, lest she give way to lazy tendencies.
Summer did not regret her choices. She did not regret taking the eyesight from the boy that had threatened her daughter. She did not regret setting her house ablaze in an attempt to drive Ruby off the path of a cold-blooded Huntress.
She regretted only one thing... but couldn't hope to articulate this wish even with a thousand year head start. Summer lacked the emotional capacity and diction to explain what she regretted. Perhaps it was her disconnection from humanity, something jogged in her memory from Qrow's drunk ramblings. Or a regret that she did not have longer to train her kin. What it was no one would ever know. For if I did understand the machinations of Summer's mind, I would surely tell you.
I lied. Her regret was simple, and easy to articulate, even to one set as divorced from humanity as she, Summer just refused to accept it. Her wish will become obvious given context and a little thought. Just as you trust I, reader, I trust you. For if I told you in plain text what ailed her, you would ignore it or mark it as nothing more than the ramblings of an insane, biased, and long winded old man.
Ruby's silver eyes burned with the light of the hellish moon, although they shone brightly enough to bring to question which surface was the source of the cursed energy, and which simply reflected it. Her eyes betrayed her primary bloodline, the other inert although not absent. And with proper kindling, both bloodlines would be active, and bring upon her a curse far worse than her poor, manipulated mother.
The form of which was now a fleshy, beating heart. An amalgamation of hatred, flesh, and an utter lack of humanity dyed red and white. A truly horrific sight for anyone to look upon, although it made Qrow's task nearly impossible to fail. How might one fail to stab Summer's heart, if that was her entire being? An interesting question.
It beat slowly but obviously, each contraction and expansion created more and more hate, to the point that if one were to look closely at the air where the thing Summer had once been occupied— they would be overrun with hatred towards humanity.
But no Grimm dared to touch the hallowed ground of Dinah's point.
The air was clear, the path set, and although Qrow was uncertain about how he would bring about such a task as apparating and killing a specter, his dead eyes would ensure that the deed would be done and Summer's name— Rose— would be buried with her.
There was no priest for this funeral, this execution carried out by two Grimm reapers. There would be no prayers above, thanking the gods for an everlasting paradise that didn't exist, and a life that no one would envy. There would be no casket, no crying family members to comfort one another— not that there had been any at Summer's first funeral.
There would be only one thing, the one thing that gods ever offered in their infinite power and wisdom.
Despair.
There was no power offered by the gods, no solace. Only despair. The knowledge that your efforts were pointless and wasted, that at the end of your days your works would be buried in a desert, never to be found by a traveler. There would be no remnant for the Hunters that laid down their lives. Not even a headstone to mark their passing or existence.
Wretched gods, and damn the Hunters that enabled their sick pastime. Damn the Hunters that think their efforts are anything less than futile. Damn the ungrateful bystanders that never, ever remembered their saviors. Damn them all.
For while an everlasting paradise may not exist, I can assure you— there is an everlasting hell. An abyssal black plane from which all Grimm are birthed and escape from. Did you think it was the gods that wasted their precious power on a thing like the spawning of grimm? You were foolish if you gave that theory even a passing thought, for it's human souls that power them, human souls that act as a womb for their creation before being consumed whole.
And on this clear, moonlight night, with a false expectation that there would be an ending to something, the gods watched the twin reapers.
The cursed moon, fractured and broken, revealed to the pair Summer's heart. A veiny, monstrous creation created by years of neglect, misunderstanding, and self hate. A construct of hate dyed red and white that stood taller and wider than three men side by side.
Qrow stood still, not out of fear, but prudence. He wished to make sure that his strike landed true, and as he rightly guessed, there was a catch. The question was whether or not he could put his inebriated brain to work in figuring out what it was.
Ruby strode forward without fear. For her, all she saw was her mother, crying and alone. Walking up to the heart, Ruby placed her arms around a corner, hugging it as best she could. She wanted to give the goodbye to her mother that she'd never been able to do, to thank her for her work, and to allow her to peacefully rest in the abyssal black.
Tears pattered down on Ruby's head, the release of Summer's frustration and fear.
Summer Rose's specter took Ruby's hand, and squeezing it gently, disappeared off into the night, forever laid to rest and if not happy, at least content.
Blood pattered down on Ruby's head, the release of Summer's hate and fear.
There was no happy ending for a specter composed entirely of hate, having long forgotten the forms of her friend and daughter.
Wrapped up in his thoughts for too long, perhaps a victim of slow reflexes from the alcohol, or a hesitation that he would never admit to, Qrow reached out a hand to grab Ruby. To pull her away from the abomination the shell of Summer Rose had become. An unnatural, ugly monstrosity that would be done a kindness if it was put down.
The creeping flesh had already begun to devour Ruby, her body sinking into it like a vast and unholy ocean. It would not be long before she was fully devoured by the shell of Summer Rose's specter, nothing more than fuel for the havoc that Summer would wreak upon the world upon realizing her crime.
The swirls of the damascus knife moved like whirlpools, hungering for the destruction of evil and glinting with the light of a technology that rightfully died with its creators. Taking the knife which seemed to expand in his hands, Qrow ran it along the seam between Ruby and the manmade Grimm.
A scream of primal pain echoed, the heart enlarging at the pain it endured when Qrow cut away at the pieces holding Ruby inside. He pulled against the tide of the heart, one man against the hatred of hundreds. His hands, even imbued with Aura, were simply not enough.
He watched as Ruby was fully eaten by the heart.
Already her soul was consumed, eaten for fuel by a creature that never should have seen the light of the moon.
Ruby's soul died that night. Never given the chance to live, love, or truly hate. Her last moments impaired by the delusion that she was helping her mother along— all she had accomplished was the prolonging of something that should have died long ago.
But she did it! Inadvertently, the young Huntress in training accomplished that which had never been done before. Young Ruby Xiao Long had accomplished what I desired. What any sane person would want—
An end to a singular damned cycle.
There would be no more silver eyed warriors— the bloodline cleansed of the earth. No longer would this family be driven by hate to act as entertainment for uncaring gods above. She was free of her torment, her god given purpose. Forever cast into a dark abyss, Ruby Xiao Long was outside the reach of the gods.
And if I were the one looking down upon this scene, with eyes moistened, I would declare this tragedy done. I would put the heart to rest, allow Qrow to mourn the loss of his niece and friend. I would let this ending remain as it was. Satisfying, cathartic, if melancholy.
But I am not the one that decides such things. I am not the one seeking entertainment.
It was the gods above that cried not for the dead girl, her dead mother, or the beaten man who wished he was dead. They cried for more entertainment, they decided that it simply couldn't end there, in all their foolery and childishness they could not accept the end to this bloodline, this tragic story.
Gods cannot turn back time. Nor can they raise the dead as you would understand.
But what if there was a willing vessel, perfectly preserved, with a soul waiting, yearning to be relegated to a lower state of flesh and blood?
Luck intervened on Qrow's behalf, and fate found amusement in altering the path.
With the efficacy and movement of a man with nothing left to lose, Qrow dove into the heart. He was offered no resistance.
For two moments, nothing happened. On the third the heart undulated, and whimpered. Its core pierced by the damascus blade, it lost its shape and became little more than a mound of pulverized flesh.
On the fifth moment Qrow pulled out Ruby's body with him, although her soul was nowhere to be found. He coughed up viscera, dragging the both of them to dry land.
Ruby's body didn't so much as twitch as Qrow shook her. His cries to her silent form were met with laughter from the gods above, viewing it as nothing more than dramatic irony. Tears that were not Ruby's own streamed down her face, falling from above as Qrow pleaded with a higher power not to take his niece. A request they wouldn't be able to fulfill even if they wanted to, the soul of Ruby Xiao Long out of their power.
Ruby's body coughed up guts. After a heavy sigh, silver eyes that had once belonged to Ruby revealed themselves as dull gray and unfocused.
Qrow clutched her close, crying into her shoulder and silently praising gods above that did nothing but further his torment. Ceaseless addicts for entertainment, unable to be satisfied with the little story given.
If Summer was still looking down at the scene, she would have instantly pulverized the living corpse that had once been Ruby Xiao Long. She would have incorrectly recognized the eyes as those of the Jabbawock. Summer would have used her power over Grimm without restraint and ensured that the body of her daughter would never go misused.
But there was no vengeful specter viewing the scene and so this didn't happen. Yet Summer had not found peace as her daughter had seen in her delusion, no. Nor was Ruby's body possessed by a Jabbawock or any sort of Grimm. So where did Summer's soul reside?
Dear reader, please allow me to patronize you. For if you are infected with delusion, allow me to make absolutely certain you understand where Summer's will given form was at this juncture. Allow me to tell you how Summer had done the very thing that— if she knew— she would have despised Ozpin for.
If you have not already divined the cruel but not unusual nature of the god's humor, allow me to be straightforward in a most un-straightforward manner.
Ruby Xiao Long was dead, while Ruby Rose lived.
A/N: Fun chapter to write. Hope you liked it, and I'm curious to see what people think of it. Thanks for reading!
