"RIIIIIG!"
Spirit zips just out of the shutting jaw of the stomping elk Behemoth, screaming as he surfs by on his platform.
"Keep distracting it, buddy!" Rig calls over his shoulder. Crouching, he turns back to the chart in progress in the dirt in front of him and Kanoa. "Ok, so then, we can use the fishing net to-"
There's a crude drawing of the town's layout, with Kanoa's house towards the far end circled and having various arrows going in and out of it.
Rig turns back to Kanoa, "So we can use the net to zap it and-"
"No! You've been using it wrong the whole time!" Kanoa groans, pressing her palm to her forehead.
"Huh?"
"The net wasn't meant to be-" she pauses.
Rig's face twists up in confusion, "Meant to be what?"
Kanoa's eyes light up, "Wait- that's actually brilliant!
"Yeah, for sure!" Rig nods enthusiastically.
"And here I thought it was only going to be useful for fishing!"
"GUYS!" Spirit yells, narrowly ducking under one of the massive swinging horns of the Behemoth. His platform fizzles out beneath him, sending him flying forward at mach speed, "I'M DEAD!"
"Walk and talk!" Kanoa yells to Rig as she starts moving off.
"So you said there's fish?" Rig replies, following.
Spirit crashes into a rooftop, shattering the tiles as he lands. Forcing himself out of a daze, Spirit pushes off the roof just as the Behemoth charges straight through the house behind him. The Behemoth takes a necessary moment to change direction as it sees Spirit run into another house. It rushes again as Spirit hops out the window, narrowly missing him as it crushes a Vivican dwelling for a second time. Billowing smoke and flames block the Grimm's vision from its prey.
"Happy thoughts," Spirit whispers to himself between pants as he sneaks around alleyways, "Happy thoughts…" as he bumbles through a boulevard.
A loud screech from the Behemoth shakes the ground itself.
"Surviving thoughts!" Spirit screams as he starts dashing.
Within a couple steps, he makes it around a corner and winds up on the same street as Rig and Kanoa. Not too far off, they're standing and making frantic hand gestures.
"Guys!" Spirit yells as he runs up to them.
"Spirit, why aren't you distracting the Behemoth?" Kanoa asks.
"Because I nearly died!" After about a second, Spirit starts panickedly looking around to find the gargantuan beast, only to see it looming in the distance on the other side of the village, "Besides, I think I threw it off my trail."
"You lost it? How?" Rig asks.
"I'm not sure. Frankly, I'm just glad I'm not a part of the squashed rubble back there," Spirit replies.
Rig snaps to attention and darts his eyes around in thought, "It came here because it was attracted to the bad stuff, right? Like the other Grimm were?"
Spirit raises his eyebrows, "Wait, but that means there's more negative emotion here now than before."
"So you think it's coming here to roost?" Kanoa butts in, "I mean that'd explain why it's not coming after us right now. It probably can't sense our feelings from the reactions over all the other crazy stuff that happened today."
"Grimmology aside," Spirit grits his teeth, "We have to take it out before the other Grimm return or else Vivica will be looking a lot like that old city we found."
"Yeah, but there's something more important at the moment!" Kanoa yells and starts running off towards the middle of the street.
She arrives right in front of her house, the roof of which had just begun to catch fire from a neighboring abode.
Rig comes up next to her and asks, "You think we can put the fire out?"
Kanoa shakes her head, "We don't have time. Plus it's too late to destroy the other buildings around it to stop the fire from spreading."
"We can still try, I mean it's your-"
"No," she states with a note of pain in her voice, "Let's just grab what we can and get back in the fight."
Rig nods and the two of them rush through the front door, knocking it clean off its hinges. Inside the house, the two each go a separate direction past the living room. Kanoa stops to look at a drawer chock-full of family photos and heirlooms before shaking her head and snapping her attention to the workshop at the end of the hall.
A few rooms back, Rig checks Kanoa's grandfather's room, but before he can get to the filing cabinets, a blinding cloud of blistering smoke pushes him out of the room. He yelps and turns to drop by the back room for his scavenged backpack before rushing back outside.
He narrowly avoids bumping into Spirit, who was toying intently with his hookshots.
"Where's Kanoa?" Spirit asks, his voice low, "What's taking her so long?"
Rig responds with a worried expression before they hear a crash. Kanoa bursts through a burning wall with the knockoff Atlesian turret on her shoulders. After Spirit sighs in relief, the unsure look returns onto his face.
"That thing actually works?"
"Yep," she says, in between a strained grunt as she's setting it down on the dirt, "Almost as good as the real deal, I bet."
"So how do we use it?"
Kanoa visibly flinches. Rig runs up to it and pops the top open.
"Like this!" he yells, shoving handfuls of Slack Dust in until his pockets are empty.
Kanoa frowns, "I'm still worried that it might not be able to do anything against something that big- and angry, but it's our best shot."
"You know what- we can figure it out," Spirit says, putting on as much of an encouraging smile as he can.
"I believe in us!" Rig smiles.
"We all should," Kanoa replies, "So does anyone have a plan?"
"So I was thinking," Spirit starts as he stares up at the Behemoth in the distance, "You know how I was running distraction? Maybe we can use the turret instead."
"We only have one, you know," Kanoa says, raising an eyebrow.
"And there's only one of me," Spirit reasons.
"Fair point," she nods.
"I wish there were two of me!" Rig butts in.
Spirit rolls his eyes, "Zero of you would be better."
A laugh infects the trio for a while, but they're sobered by the sound of collapsing walls nearby. They turn to see Kanoa's roof caving in, fire patting it into shreds like an overly eager child on a sandcastle.
"Kanoa," Rig looks down, "I'm sorry."
"We'll make it pay. Right here, right now," Kanoa says, clenching her fists. She faces Spirit with newfound confidence, "What do we do after the turret's set up?"
Spirit points at the Behemoth, "See that crack on its skull? If Rig can get one of his power strikes on it, he'll split that thing's head like a walnut," He looks at his partner, "Think you can pull it off?"
"I think I only got one left in me, so I'll make it the best one yet!" Rig fist pumps and pulls out the radio receiver from his backpack, which he then drops, "Let's go, Operation Brain Pain!"
Spirit raises an eyebrow, "Do Grimm even have brains?"
"Have you ever seen a headless Grimm?" Kanoa asks back, taking the receiver off of Rig.
"Nope," Rig grins, "But none have seen me back!"
-XX・XX-
The Behemoth looms over Vivica, its massive shadow blotting out piles of burning rubble beneath it. Its eyes glow a deeper shade of crimson as the ethereal screams and cries of humans echo in the air. Streams of dark violet energy waft throughout the desolate streets, mesmerizing the beast into a trance-like state. It lifts its head, feeling the negativity flow into the crack in its skull, which begins gradually repairing the injury it received a few nights prior.
Whirrr…
The faint sound makes the Grimm snap back to attention. It turns to the noise just as a projectile whizzes straight for its face, combusting into a small ball of flame against its left eye. A second projectile repeats the process as the Behemoth flinches and growls. It charges towards the source of the flying Slack Dust, unaffected by the small annoyances still being fired.
Kanoa skirts down a side street, making sure to stay out of the line of sight between the turret and the Behemoth on the way back towards Rig and Spirit. As she runs through the sandy paths, childhood memories of the same exact roads flicker in, overlapping the now-smouldering ruins that bellow death from their crackling thresholds. Vivid images of idyllic, warm days and innocent wandering burn up and reform as more and more of the homes she can list by heart cave into ashy ruin.
Kanoa shakes her head just as the dresser with all her family mementos returns to mind. Eyes suddenly glowing up the dim air like spotlights, the Behemoth turns its attention towards her, as if immediately sensing the disarray in her emotions.
"HYAHHH!"
Rig brings down his axe and closes his eyes from airborne debris just as the beast flicks its head to track a new prey. He could feel his weapon cleanly slice through something solid.
Opening his eyes again, Rig sees a massive, soot-stained antler comes crashing into his stomach.
The impact shocks him short of being able to recover forwards with a gravity rush and he falls backwards. Barely clinging on to consciousness, a pair of strong arms comes rushing under him, cushioning his impact.
"This seems... familiar," Rig mumbles, turning to see Kanoa carrying him bridal style.
"Rig!" Spirit comes rushing in from nearby, "What happened?! Did you get him?!"
"No…" Rig murmurs, "I got one of his antlers, though."
They watch as the Behemoth roars, continuing its charge towards the turret again. This time, it succeeds, smashing one of the few dwellings left standing in the village.
Spirit looks down at Rig, "Can you use your Semblance one more time?"
"Iunno," he answers, trailing off.
Kanoa squeezes and then shakes him, which prompts a little more lively of a reaction.
"Or die trying," Rig smiles, enunciating the syllables woosily.
"Good. Let's switch out then."
"Switch out?" Spirit's eyes widen, "Don't tell me you're going on top of that thing?!"
"I am. With you two completely wrecked, it's our only and last chance."
Kanoa sets Rig straight on the ground and he holds out his arms. She then leaps onto his shoulders, sending him wobbling as he scrambles to grab onto her legs.
"Heavy," Rig mumbles as he crouches into takeoff position.
"Wait!" Spirit stretches his arms out, "You're going to get yourself killed over there! Think of all the things that can possibly go wrong! What happens if-?!"
"Spirit," Kanoa looks at him, a mixture of exhausted hurt and burning confidence manifesting in her eyes, "Trust me."
For a few seconds, Spirit silently remembers the doubtful and terrified expressions on his parents' faces before he left them. He remembers his last two teammates, their last words, their last stands.
A chill goes down his spine as he clenches his jaw.
"Don't you dare die, Kanoa."
She nods, looking down at Rig as she whoops.
"Ready?"
Barely giving her time to inhale, a sudden force propels the two of them diagonally towards the Behemoth. They climb and climb and climb until she feels Rig's hold on her calves loosen and then lapse. In his haze, Rig had angled the jump a lot lower than expected, and after a few seconds, Kanoa realizes they're sailing towards the Grimm's lower back. With a heave, she manages to push off from Rig, sending him flying back to safety as she sails onto the Behemoth, grabbing onto one of its giant protruding back vertebrae.
As Spirit catches Rig just a storey off the ground with a platform, Kanoa flips upwards off of her bony handhold and lands with her spike-ball mace withdrawn. The Behemoth seems to notice her presence on its back and shadowy tendrils begin to strike at her. Clambering to dodge, Kanoa manages to roll forward in between swings to bat away the attacks. She weaves in between the spines on the monster's back to leave the tendrils tied up in her wake and then makes a running leap to land on the tip of one of its vertebra. Kanoa proceeds forward, hopping from one gargantuan bone to another, increasing speed as she works her way up the last segment of its back.
Culminating with a full-force leap from the last segment, the beast manages to turn its head just enough during her airtime for the objective to come into view:
The rapidly sealing crack running directly down the Behemoth's skull hides a small red glow from within, which grows larger and larger as Kanoa narrows her focus to it and nothing else as her flying form closes the gap.
The spiky tip of the mace traces itself with speed mirages like echoes of motion as Kanoa raises it up and then brings it thundering down with a sparky crackle below her. Her weapon chips off chunks of skull as it buries into the crack, plunging into the red core hidden within. A pained roar shakes the very air around her as the mace's tip starts loosening from the inside of the Behemoth's head. All around her, its face starts to disintegrate away into black dust and she slips downwards.
After plummeting through a cloud of smoke during her fall, Kanoa gets a brief glimpse of her village. Under the last breath of a blazing artificial sunrise, a lot of charred squares is exposed in its ruined entirety. After landing into a roll to soften the impact, she reorients and starts looking for Rig and Spirit, amid a thick snowfall of black flakes. Kanoa comes across both of their limp bodies snoring on the ground in victory poses.
She sighs to herself, smiling up at the cracked moon as the lights start dying around her.
-XX・XX-
Shadows of different sizes traverse the smoky remnants of Vivica. Some cough, covering their soot-covered lips. Others sniffle as the pungent odor of ash and Grimm clogs their nostrils. All of them, however, shed at least a tear as they walk through the blackened shell of what was once their home. In front of them stand Kanoa, Rig, and Spirit, all battered and bruised.
"You…" the Elder trails off as he pushes his way through the crowd, "You destroyed our village! There's nothing left here!"
"Don't change the subject," Kanoa glares at him, "You said Rig and Spirit were liars. You didn't trust them or me when they came all the way back here to warn us about the attack. They saved our lives and you know it."
"Liars!" the Elder points a shaky finger at them, "You went so far as to destroy this village to fool us! All for your petty grudges!"
"You... couldn't have missed the bodies," Kanoa maintains the sternness in her voice, "With wounds that only Grimm would have the savagery to inflict."
"She's right," one of the male villagers says, face pale as he returns to the group. "There's bandits littered all over the streets. It's a massacre."
Rig walks off covering his ears as soon as he hears the status report. While a few of the older Vivicans wander off for more evidence, most stick to their pack, keeping the curious children hidden in the center.
"I… You..." the Elder stumbles with his words, eyes wildly darting around the desolate landscape, "You led them here then! All of you!"
"Shut it. I'm getting real sick and tired of your excuses," Spirit says just as Rig returns with his backpack, "How about you cut the crap, old man?"
"What did you just say-?!"
The Elder is cut off by the sight of Rig handing a manila folder out of his backpack to Kanoa. As the Elder runs towards them, Rig points his shotgun towards him. The Elder stumbles back, falling onto his rear.
"Don't move," Rig states, emotionless.
"What is this?" Kanoa asks.
"It's your family's file," Spirit answers, "Everyone who's ever been a part of this village has one. It includes everything. Names of the living, dead, and evicted."
Rig's eyes widen, "The files-!"
"Are behind Kanoa's house. The cabinet was that important thing I saved while you were fighting tuning fork guy," Spirit says, "Pass me your shotgun Rig. I think you're better suited to drag the cabinet all the way over here."
After handing Spirit his weapon, Rig runs off. Spirit braces his aim as the Elder shifts uncomfortably on the ground.
"I said, don't move!" Spirit yells.
A few of the villagers slightly back away. Kanoa presses her fingers tightly against her folder.
"Spirit. That cabinet you're talking about… that wasn't in my grandfather's room, was it?"
Spirit's eyes remain on the Elder. Kanoa's eyes water.
"Why?" she asks in a whisper.
"I'm sorry," Spirit replies in a low voice, "We suspected one of our friends lived here. It was the only way we could have confirmed it."
Rig drags the filing cabinet up besides Spirit, then drops it, letting the files spill out onto the ground.
"Come on, everyone," Spirit encourages, "Go ahead and find yours."
All the Vivicans past their middle ages stand still with worried and guilty expressions, as the younger ones step forward. The Elder grabs at a few of their legs before being shaken off.
"No!" The Elder begs as he tries to pull them back, "They're tricking you! Don't fall for their lies!"
As the younger villagers begin to sort through the folders and read them, horrified expressions dawn on their faces. The older villagers begin to cry at the sight.
Rig and Spirit walk up to either side of Kanoa. While Rig places a hand on Kanoa's shoulder, Spirit motions for her to open the file. Her fingers work their way around before flipping the top open.
xxxx
Haheo Household
STATUS: PRESENT
xxxx
M. Kahikilani Haheo
Traits: Horns
STATUS: SUPPRESSED
xxxx
M. Juichiro Takagi
Traits: None
STATUS: SUPPRESSED EVICTED DECEASED
xxxx
F. Lokilani Haheo
Traits: Tail
STATUS: SUPPRESSED EVICTED DECEASED
xxxx
F. Kanoa Haheo
Traits: Horns
STATUS: SUPPRESSED
xxxx
M. Eikichi Haheo
Traits: Horns, Tail, Cow Spots, Hooves
STATUS: DECEASED
xxxx
"What?" Kanoa shakes her head, "No. No, that's not-"
"They took your horns!" Rig gasps.
She raises a shaky hand to her head and reaches through her hair, feeling for the thin scar running across the crown of her scalp.
"Grandpa told me I hit my head when I was little…"
"He lied," Spirit says, "This is Vivica's unquestioned tradition. Faunus suppression. Every single one of you standing here today either got suppressed or lucky enough. And those that didn't… well, you see the big, black 'evicted,' right?"
Kanoa falls to her knees, hands covering her mouth as she doubles over. The tears that built up in her eyes from earlier pour down her face. Rig kneels down beside her, giving her a hug.
"THIS IS A FABRICATION!" The Elder's face turns dark red as he shoots up to his feet. He wildly spins between the trio and the rest of the villagers, "THEY LIE! JUST LIKE THEY HAVE FOR GENERATIONS! THEY LIE TO DESTROY US! THE HUMANS, THEY-!"
The sobs quell for just a moment as pure shock reverbs around the crowd. In one second, all the color drains from the Elder's face.
"The- humans?" Spirit asks, cocking his head.
"The humans," the farmer steps forward from the crowd, "From the Great War almost eighty years ago. We're all the descendants of the Faunus that fled from the old Vivica. The burnt city you witnessed at the tower we sabotaged."
"And why sabotage the tower?" Spirit leads on.
"You already know why. To keep us in control, naturally," the farmer says, "All contact outside new Vivica was prohibited for this exact reason. Those that survived the War had their traits suppressed to ensure that Vivica would be easily mistaken as a human village. It was our only way to survive the harsh reality of a world that saw Faunus akin to monsters. And as such, it manifested into tradition. Only the aged and those who have had children are aware of this truth."
"Was my…" Kanoa hiccups, "Was my grandfather one of the people who suppressed us?"
"I'm sorry," The farmer's face softens, "He was the Elder, after all. But he cared. He wished for the best for Vivica, but we all believed this was the only way for Vivica to survive. Perhaps he left those files in his study for you to discover them. And for you to decide for Vivica."
Kanoa stares blankly at the ground.
"Besides," the farmer continues, "as the new Elder, it is your job."
"What?" Kanoa whispers.
"What?!" The Elder shouts.
"Old blood stales too quickly of its sympathy," the farmer reasons, motioning to Kanoa, "There could be no one better."
"No!" The Elder screams, "You traitor! Have you forgotten everything I've done for Vivica?! You've doomed us all! You-!"
Spirit moves Rig's shotgun closer to the Elder's face, silencing and sitting him back down.
"I don't expect for you to forgive us," the farmer says, "In fact, your grandfather and I both would be disappointed in you if you did. But I trust you to take us in a better direction."
"And with that being said," Spirit interrupts, staring down at the Elder, "I think it's time for you to make a decision now, Kanoa."
The Elder panickedly looks behind him, searching for his councilmen, all of which had disappeared during the earlier commotion about the files. Spirit cocks Rig's shotgun, causing the Elder to slowly turn back around.
"What do you want to do with him, Kanoa?" Spirit asks.
"My first and last act as Elder," Kanoa says, towering over the Elder and pointing to the forest, and then commands, "Walk."
The Elder stares at her momentarily before whimpering, "W-walk?"
"Evicted. Behavior deemed irredeemable by Elder Haheo," Kanoa states.
"Look at their faces," Spirit adds, "Look, and then try telling me this little charade of yours isn't in shambles."
The Elder gives one last look to the villagers. Instead of sympathy, their faces express open hostility. Without a further word, he grits his teeth at Kanoa and books it into the forest. A few seconds of silence later, the farmer clears his throat.
"Elder- no, Kanoa," he begins, "If I'm not mistaken, you said that was your first and last act as Elder?"
"It is. I think I know what I want to do with myself," she smiles at Rig and Spirit, "And what I'm looking for is outside this village."
"But what about us? What about-?" the farmer goes sullen.
"Vivica's gone. Our past is behind us. We should all begin again, and that includes me."
"I figured you would say that. Am I to assume you're to pass down the mantle?"
"Yep, you should do it."
"Me? Is that truly just?"
"Well, you're the only who bothered telling the truth from that super secret club of yours, so I think Vivica would at least be in honest hands."
"In that case, I graciously accept," the farmer's fluffy eyebrows part, revealing pea-sized watering eyes, "You're free to live a life of your own now, so don't let mistakes from the past rob you of any more of it."
With a nod of her head, happy tears sparkle in Kanoa's eyes, the light of a freshly minted sunrise refracting in from the distance. The farmer turns to Rig and Spirit.
"Travellers, you have Vivica's sincerest gratitude. Normally, we would honor you both in the form of a feast, but…" the new Elder takes a glance around, "I'm afraid that'd have to wait until we find a new home."
Rig steps up, "Well, we're heading to Anchor next. It's half a day away, so maybe you guys can head there?"
"Do you believe they'll accept us?" the farmer asks, "We'd surely be a burden."
"After what we've been through, I'm sure they will," Kanoa intervenes, then gives a look towards Rig and Spirit, "The world's probably a kinder place than our ancestors thought it was."
"Kanoa's right," Rig beams, "There's a lot of good people out there, trying their best!"
"Laws have been set up to protect the Faunus from discrimination, too," Spirit adds, "Worst comes to worst, you guys can always find another place to stay with the help of Hunters and Huntresses."
"Yeah like- whatcha call it-?" Rig scratches the back of his head as he wears a goofy smile, "Topiary- uh, wait no- Sanctuary- uh-"
"Menagerie," Spirit says with a sigh.
"Knew it! You passed the test!"
"Right, anyways," Spirit coughs, "From what it says on the map," he says, pulling the old piece of parchment out, "Anchor looks big enough to keep you guys for a few days while we clean up this area before it becomes another Grimm nest. Then, maybe you can take a passage to Menagerie."
Many of the villagers exchange worried glances.
"It's not easy to abandon our home for a place we just learned of. But," the farmer scratches his beard as he turns to the Vivicans, "Considering the bad memories and the fact that there's nothing left for us here, I figure we'll put our trust in you travellers once more."
The villagers remain silent as Spirit speaks.
"One of us will have to escort you there. It'd be the least we can do to assuage your fears."
"I'll do it," Kanoa offers.
"No. I should do it," Rig interjects, "You wouldn't have the range my Semblance and axe do, and Spirit doesn't have his weapons."
Kanoa's lips twist up before she briefly nods, smiling towards Rig, "Ok, I can trust you on this."
"Then it's settled. We will head out after sifting through the remains of Vivica a little while longer," the farmer slightly bows his head, "I'm sorry there isn't much we can offer you all in turn. Feel free to rest up while we're away."
Rig turns to the new Elder with a serious-yet-nervous expression, "Actually, there is one thing you could do for me before we go..."
"Anything within our power," the farmer nods.
Rig's mouth twists into a pursed-lip, U-shaped smile, "Can I touch your eyebrows?"
A brief silence befalls the entire group.
"I- suppose so?" the farmer replies, clearing his throat.
"Whoopee!" Rig cheers and runs up to the old man.
He crouches forward a bit and reaches a single finger out, as if apprehensive to the touch. It draws closer, and closer, and then finally brushes up against the luscious grey hairs. His whole hand cautiously moves to ruffle them.
"OH MY GOSH, THEY'RE LIKE CARPETS!" Rig whisper-screams, his eyes sparkling as Spirit looks on with jealousy.
"Ahem," the farmer says clearing his throat.
"Sir, yes sir!" Rig pulls his hands back, straightening out in surprise as if struck by lightning.
The village and their guests share a laugh as dawn finally settles in, its warming light capturing everyone's smiles for just a moment.
-XX・XX-
"And now, to announce the results for today's second round of Beacon Academy Initiation," Ozpin continues as the previous team's voices fade into the distance, "Righam Rustbridge. Nima Amareina. Spirit Asul. And Flora Mandeville."
The four young warriors walk up to the stage as they hear their names called. Their faces shift into place on the two large holographic monitors in the crowded, dark auditorium.
"You four obtained this round's white pawns. From this day forward, you will work together as... Team SFRN. Lead by… Spirit Asul."
Applause erupts from the crowd as Spirit beams. Righam pats him on the back.
"You deserve it!" Righam congratulates, "You really saved me back there with your hookshots!"
"Heh, it was only natural," Spirit says, flexing a malnourished bicep clearly within the line of sight of their two female teammates, "Just make sure you guys can keep up!"
A wave of chuckles and chortles rolls out from the crowd.
"Anyways," Ozpin coughs, "the next team, with the black pawns is as follows-"
His voice muddles into the distance as the newly minted team walks around the corner into the secluded backstage hall. Nima steps in front of the group.
"It'll be a pleasure working with you guys again," she says with a warm, if slightly sarcastic smile.
Flora nods along, blushing shyly, "Y-yeah! I'm sure we'll get along!"
"And we'll kick a lot more Grimm butt too!" Rig cheers, "Just like those Ursa back in the forest!"
"Well, that's the plan," Nima nods. She turns to Spirit, "we'll be counting on you,leader."
Spirit stares at her outstretched hand. With a look of joyous confidence, he shakes it.
"You can bet on it!"
-XX [Volume 1 - End] XX-
Author's Note:
Updated Author's Note: Due to circumstances surrounding my health, having to do with my hands, it's advised for me to refrain from rigorous typing and the like. Until I fully recover I will have to put a pause on writing in general. With that in mind I guess I feel a little silly for over-promising for Volume 2, but no matter. I apologize to those invested in the story, but as much as it pains me health takes priority. I hope you all find other stories to read and tell, and have a pleasant day.
Old Note:
Welcome to the end of Volume 1 of Saffron Trails and thanks for reading so far! It's been a blast working on this story, and the journey I'm taking to even make this possible is quite a tale unto itself, but that's besides the point. I'm here to say that Volume 2 will be coming hot on the heels of Chapter 8, so I humbly hope you're as eager to see what happens next as I am to write it! The next Volume will be significantly larger in scope and complexity as the story continues developing into the direction I intended.
Seeing as how I'm about to embark on the second leg of this journey, at this junction (perhaps more than any other) reviews, criticism, and comments would be most appreciated. Writing an entirely original set of characters and settings was an intentional choice; I hope that the quality of writing, rather than the brand-recognition of canon elements, will emotionally invest my readers. As such, having reception for my work, whether positive or negative, would mean the world to me, especially from those of you who have come this far.
Thank you for reading.
Sincerely yours,
Sitend