Chapter 62: Violent Sky
"Seasons come and seasons go—is this all there is to being a grain in the sands of it all..."
Weiss trotted after Archer, sand stuck in the mushy state of being both wet and dry burping with every step she made.
"Where are you from, Archer?" Weiss said, grinning even as she hid her face from the angry sun. "I imagine somewhere north, right? Like Argus or Atlas. Perhaps Mistral?"
"Hmph!" Archer trudged through the muck quicker. "'Twould be wise for the heiress of the Schnee to do the tracking of the prey—instead of this chattering of the idle."
Weiss chuckled, shooting Nex a glance. Help me, were the words unspoken.
Nex shrugged, shuffling behind Blake as she traced the exact footsteps Leli and Eir took. Ruby skipped along Inky's side, the mage spinning some tale about a witch and a dragon. One that wanted to eat her friend—and one that they had to put down. It must have been a long time ago, judging from how Inky kept pausing to remember parts of the story.
"So…" Weiss said, smirking as if she thought of something particularly conniving. "What's your semblance?"
Now that was a clever one.
"'Tis a secret amongst secrets," Archer said. "This Heroine finds it most convenient to do the keeping to her chest."
Weiss' smirk grew larger. "Alright. Shall we talk more about yourself then?"
"Nay," Archer muttered, her cloak fluttering. "Mayhaps the heiress of the Schnee finds it desirous to do the talking of herself instead?"
Nex sighed, smiling as Weiss moved on to another topic—with far more enthusiasm than the amount she usually poured into small talk, or even dealing with the press.
She had been at it all morning, right after they broke camp and continued marching after Raven and Qrow. Predictably, the results were less than stellar. Archer was as tight-lipped now as she was last night, seemingly unwilling to share even a few words with Weiss.
Still, now that they were next to each other, he really had to hit himself—and his semblance—for not seeing it before. The similarities between them were uncanny, masked or not. It was uncanny enough that he had to wonder if their Schnee genes really were that dominant, or if his Shade ones were that recessive.
Come to think of it, he inherited more stuff from his father than from his mom—loathe as he was to admit.
But then again, everything was speculation. Wishful thinking. And Archer seemingly had no desire to put their suspicions to rest.
To be honest, he still had no idea how to feel—or to act—if she really were who Weiss thought she was.
"How old are you?" Weiss said.
"Twenty winters and another five," Archer said, her nose wrinkling for the tenth time since Weiss started talking. "Mayhaps now the heiress of the Schnee has deemed her curiosity to be of the satisfied?"
Nex hummed. Time travel was strange—if it really was time travel. As far as he was concerned, what people saw in the movies was impossible. But still, he could be wrong. Maybe Inky and her friends really were travellers from another time, displaced here to fulfil some purpose. The only question was what.
"Which academy did you go to?" Weiss said.
"Atlas," Archer said, licking her dry lips. Huh. Yet another one to add to the list.
"Not Beacon?" Weiss said.
Archer shook her head, brushing some stray locks off the slits on her mask. Gold ghosted over her electric-blue eyes—and, for a moment, he almost saw Amariss Shade instead of Weiss Schnee without the scar and with wild, untamed hair that went past the thighs.
"You're not gonna say anything, are you?" Weiss said.
"Nay," Archer whispered. "This Heroine finds herself at the loss of the words."
"Perhaps you'd like to ask me something," Weiss said, smiling. "Some burning question at the back of your mind, maybe?"
Archer's lips scrunched up—and Nex had to stop himself from laughing. She looked like she was holding a giant shit in.
"There is but a question," Archer said, her icy gaze thawing.
"Only one?" Weiss said.
"The dating," Archer murmured, shrinking under her cloak. "This Heroine finds herself in great need of the advice for the dating—the holding of the hand doesn't work…"
Nex laughed, winking at his fiance. Of all the things their maybe-kid could have asked. It just had to be that.
Weiss coughed. "Pardon?"
"Hmph!" Archer crossed her arms, waddling like a penguin. "Mayhaps the heiress of the Schnee is hard of the hearing? Mayhaps she finds the question to be of the most inappropriate?"
"No, no, no, of course not," Weiss said. Her eyes and face lit up. "Ahem. I was simply caught off guard. I wasn't expecting your question to be so… personal."
Soon enough, their party crested a dune, Inky holding a palm over her eyes. Nex stopped beside her, scanning the ocean of sand. The thin trail of smoke blowing towards them piqued his interest. He took a cursory whiff. It smelled of fish—the very same fish that Raven and her men cooked the other night.
"That be them, eh?" Inky said. She tapped the dune with her staff, magic pulsing across the sands. "There. Just behind the cliff."
"That's really damn useful," Nex said.
"Oh? Magic?" Inky said. "Why, yes. Methinks it be quite the gift, eh?"
"A gift?" Nex said. "How do you become a Maiden, anyway?"
The fairy tales said many things, but never how someone could inherit the world-shaking powers—without Ozpin's miracle machine at least.
"The gift comes to you, eh?" Inky said. "When the wisp of life fades and the world finds your song on her lips, that is how you become a Maiden."
"I don't understand," Nex said.
"Tell me, Nexus Shade," Inky said, leaning on her staff as they slid down the dune. "What do you know of souls?"
Admittedly, he knew very little. Beyond the philosophical stuff anyway, or the things he read about aura and its relation to a person's soul.
"Ah, say no more," Inky said. "He who knows does not speak, and he who speaks does not know. But in your case, it be the opposite, eh?"
"Right," Nex said. "I don't see the point in pretending to know something you don't."
"Ha! Such modesty!" Inky said. "But methinks it be simple pragmatism, eh?"
She paused, letting go of her staff. It floated beside her, the tip leaving a thin line on the sand.
Huh.
Did the amount of mana it cost to cast a spell change depending on how much it warped reality? Archer's arrow—the one that melted a Lyndwyrm—must have taken much more than just a simple levitation spell, right?
"To be answering your question, dearly inquisitive one," Inky said. "Maidens, or Incarnates as the keepers of the lore name them, are vessels of the primordial magics that shaped Remnant. Or, well, any other world by any other name."
"Other worlds?" Nex said.
"Surely you don't believe that we're from around here, do you?" Leli said.
Had she posed the question two days ago, he would have called her crazy. Delusional. But something about the strangeness of their current situation made him—gods forbid—consider what she said. But still.
"You don't look like aliens to me," Nex said. "Aren't you supposed to have four arms or six eyes or something?"
He eyed Eir as the knight laughed along with Ruby and Blake, the three paving the path ahead. Nope. No aliens at all. Eir looked about as normal as any guy off the streets—too normal even.
Inky smirked. "Why, yes! We be terrifying monsters, eh?! Here to snatch your firstborn straight from the cradle, eh? Sacrifice 'em to some evil god with tentacles, eh?"
Nex raised an eyebrow, chuckling.
Leli giggled as if she were choking on grapes. She had her lips hidden behind her palm. "You'll have to pardon her. She has a dreadful sense of humour."
Nex shrugged. He had one too. "Say I believe you," he said. "Are Archer and Eir from another world too?"
"Aye! That be the question, eh?" Inky said. "Shouldn't you be asking your—"
Leli elbowed her side. "Hush, Incitatia!"
"Incitatia?" Nex smirked, clicking his tongue thrice. "Incitatia? Really?"
Inky huffed, her nose curling in on itself. "Call me Inky. Princess Incitatia is what my vassals call me, unfortunately, no matter how I be insisting otherwise, eh?"
"Sure," Nex said. "So you're a princess from another world, huh?"
Apparently, Weiss was right. And Inky had been telling the truth in the Hanged Scoundrel.
"Why, yes," Inky said. "It be a terrible burden, eh?"
"Surely it isn't so terrible when you partake of the laurels and the wine, ma chérie," Leli said, smiling.
"Aye, that be true," Inky said. "But it be me duty that binds me to my world, and my people. Not the laurels and the wine, eh?"
When they arrived at Raven's camp, it was to the bustle of bandits and refugees alike licking their wounds, the cliff casting its shadow over their gaunt, forlorn faces. A line of faunus stood before Raven and Vernal, taking turns in front of them.
The light of Raven's aura—a malevolent red—coated one of the women. Then she said the words. The words to pick the lock to the cage that held another's soul. Still, the light faded, and the wolf-girl's aura did not come forth.
"You don't have the aptitude, girl," Raven said. "But never fear. Aura alone does not make the warrior."
The wolf-girl nodded, fists clenched as she stalked through the crowd of refugees.
"You've arrived safely," Raven said, her eyes darting towards Archer and Eir. "I see that you've brought… friends."
"Yep," Ruby said, grinning. "They helped a lot."
"Understatement of the year," Blake muttered.
Raven scoffed. "So they're the only reason why you're still breathing. What a splendid stroke of luck."
"Aye. It be quite fortunate, eh?" Inky said. "This be me bestie and her spouse"—said spouse rolled his eyes—"Archer. Eir. They be pleased to meet 'yer acquaintance, eh, chief?"
"An acquaintance that will have to wait," Raven said, motioning for another refugee—a faunus with a massive beard shaped like the head of a mop—to step forward. "As you can see, we have much to do before we can resume our march."
"We can, like, wait," Eir said, shaking the sand loose from his mail. "It's not like we're in a rush, right?"
Nex licked his lips. He paused and tugged at his semblance, spreading its field of awareness around the camp. "Where's Qrow?"
"Oh he's stretching his wings somewhere," Raven said.
"Where is he?" Weiss said, glaring at her.
"Calm yourself, heiress of Schnee." Raven snorted. "If you must know, my foolish little brother is probably halfway to Vale by now."
"What?" Weiss hissed. "Isn't he supposed to be in charge?"
"In charge? Don't be stupid." Raven laughed. "Did you ever wonder why Beacon sent him out of all the other huntsmen on its roster?"
Nex shrugged. "Oz got him to spy on us."
As cold as it was, it was the truth. His father being here had nothing to do with familial attachments, or anything of the sort. Rather, his team had both a silver-eyed warrior and the next in line to be the Fall Maiden—as well as an ex-terrorist with intimate connections to the White Fang.
Shit. When he put it like that, it almost seemed like he was the most unremarkable one on his team. Well, unless… No. The only ones who knew who he had been was Roman, Neo, and now his team. There was absolutely no way that Ozpin or anyone else knew—he covered his tracks far too well for that.
"I can't believe Uncle Qrow just left," Ruby mumbled as their team strode to the edge of the camp, just out of the sun's reach.
"Pretty sure he's off to tell Ozpin," Blake said. "About everything that happened, I mean."
So that was it. Qrow left them to tattle to his boss. About the Resolutionists. And the Lyndwyrm. Their first official mission as a team just spiralled out of control. From a simple monster extermination to hunting down cultists and facing off against hordes of Grimm led by a literal fire-breathing dragon. And that was without all the shady magic and time-travelling business added on top of everything else.
"I must admit," Weiss said, pursing her lips. "We might be in over our heads."
"What are you saying?" Blake said.
"I'm saying that maybe we should return to Beacon," Weiss said. "Although…"
She trailed off, glancing at Archer from the corner of her eye. Their maybe-kid and her friend sat on a tall ledge by the cliff-side, a curtain of magical light sparkling around them. They seemed to be chatting about something, the words too distant, too muffled, for his extra pair of ears to hear.
"You think she's your grown-up kid from the future," Blake said. "Really? You're not seriously buying what they're selling, right?"
"I dunno," Nex said. "Inky seems to be the honest sort."
Almost as if she was incapable of keeping her mouth shut—or wielding a lie. All those times she kept trying to tell them about Archer was proof enough.
Weiss gave them a tiny smile. "Whenever I look at her, I get this tight feeling in my chest. It's like I should know her—and it hurts that I don't. I don't even know her name. Or her birthday. Or what her favourite food is."
Gods. Nex licked his lips. They probably ended up being terrible parents too, huh?
Ruby frowned, clutching Weiss' hand between hers. "You'll find out. She's here, right? That means she's real." The silver-eyed girl chuckled. "She's gonna be real."
"Or not," Blake said.
"Come on, Blake," Nex said. "After everything you've seen last night, you can't even consider the possibility?"
Blake said nothing in response—only a slight shrug of her shoulder as she reached for the book tucked in her back-pocket again.
"What do you think?" Weiss said.
"Me?" Nex said.
"Yes, you," Weiss said. "As team leader, I believe you have the final say."
Nex shrugged, watching as Archer and Eir jumped off their perch, a breath of wind cushioning their fall.
"I'm staying," Nex said. "I can't leave."
No. He could not. Because him leaving struck chords in his soul he never knew he had. And coaxed out images of that night—of the night his mother never came back.
"I'm staying too," Ruby said, grinning. "I wanna ask her about my kids. Eheh."
"Gods help whoever's the father," Blake said.
"What's that?" Ruby said, scratching her ear. "I can't hear you over the sound of—"
"I'm staying," Blake said, shoving her book back into her pocket. Her extra pair of ears twitched.
"Great!" Ruby pumped a fist. "Team Snowbear, move out!"
She pointed at Archer and Eir, the duo stalking out of camp with Inky and Leli.
"We better keep track of them," Weiss said. "Let's go."
They jogged after the four, waves of sand baking their feet even with huntsman-grade boots. A hoverboard—or something like what they used to fly to Tanis—would have probably been a godsend. And they had it. But they were running low on dust after yesterday's skirmish, and wasting what they had left would have probably made Goodwitch herself personally fly over and scold the idea out of their heads.
Right now, every little bit they had counted, and it could mean the difference between life and death. Well, except if you had magic and the reserves to conjure food and water out of thin air like Inky, apparently.
Bummer. Maybe he could learn magic too? Imagine all the strawberry sunrises he could have.
Nex chuckled and shook his head, garnering an odd look from Weiss.
"What's so funny?" Weiss said, yelping softly as she tripped over a stone buried in sand. Her face flushed—even redder than it already was.
Nex snorted, bursting into full-blown laughter. "Nothing."
"Hmph." Weiss scoffed and raised her chin, pointedly staring ahead. "You're lucky that I happen to be hopelessly in love with you."
"Yep, that's right," Nex said, smirking. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."
"That must mean I'm the unluckiest woman then," Weiss said, a traitorous giggle sneaking its way from her throat. "You're laughing. I almost fell face-first into sand and you're laughing."
"You have to admit," Nex said, his thumb brushing some dirt off her cheek, "it is kinda funny."
"Well," Weiss said, her eyes crinkling. "I'm so glad you're finding my sudden lack of grace funny."
To no fault of hers, of course. Weiss Schnee had probably never stepped into the deserts of Vacuo before. The treacherous sands below their feet concealed more than just Grimm—although they were the reason why his semblance was always humming at the back of his skull.
Many a careless huntsman had met their end when the wind roared and carried them off their feet, sending them careening into the sharp rocks and ruins lying everywhere. Or, at least, according to Professor Port. Personally, he thought that it should have been a Taijitu's gaping maw instead of random debris.
Inky paused, quiet. The mage raised her staff, the seven of them instinctively stopping behind her.
Nex squinted, his semblance writhing. The dry breeze was riddled with magic. Whatever spell it was, it made the desert light ripple like a pond, casting an invisible net over the valley. He could almost see through the fog and glimpse a golden city behind.
"Hmph!" Archer crossed her arms. "'Tis most dastardly of the cultists to do the direction of the amiss."
"What do you mean?" Weiss said.
"There be powerful magicks in the air," Inky said. "Not a step further, lest y'all be lost in the vilest of dreams."
"An illusion," Eir said. "Just perfect."
Something told him that this illusion was more powerful than anything Neo could create—and dispelling it took more than just giving it a hard hit.
Inky closed her eyes, muttering, "Born of blood and fire, and blessed by midnight's hand…"
She drew her knife. Silver flashed. And time froze as crimson gushed from her wrist, the shredded artery twitching, spraying blood on the sands.
Weiss' breath hitched.
Ruby gasped. "Inky!"
"Oh, wow, so you're a blood mage too," Eir said. "Can you, like, warn people before going all stabby though?"
"By the call of the pyre…" Inky mumbled. Her eyes glazed over, green fire swirling within. "Her sorrows we repent…"
The blood surged upwards, forming a sigil of a staff wreathed in white flames—a caricature of Inky's emblem. It slammed against the illusory wall. Tendrils of fire snaked over the valley, crackling, spreading like cobwebs. Soon enough, the flames died down, leaving embers fluttering in the wind.
Inky panted as she sealed her wound close with a wave of her free hand, stumbling on her heels.
"Are you alright, ma chérie?" Leli said, catching Inky in her arms.
"Peachy," Inky said, grinning. "Now then. There be two anchors tethering the spell to this plane…"
Nex licked his chapped lips, taking a sip of his flask. He passed it on to Weiss who chugged it down with a grateful nod. The four of them were perched on a dune, overlooking a ruined shrine of some sort. It lay below, deep in a canyon, robed cultists roaming its dusty halls.
They split into two strike teams, tasked to disrupt an anchor each. Theirs was made up of him, Weiss—and Archer and Eir.
"Hesus," Eir said, wiping the sheen of sweat off his face. "It's, like, they personally made this place to piss me off or something."
Weiss scowled. "We should do what Inky wants us to do as soon as possible and get out of this infernal sun."
Archer frowned as she held a hand to Eir's neck. "Pray! Mayhaps the Guardian is feeling of the unwell?"
"I'm, like, roasting like a fish here," Eir said. "Any moment now, I'll flop over and die, and golden girl isn't here to rez."
Nex snickered. The knight was definitely as overdramatic as Nora. Well, both him and Archer were. Only that Eir got on well with Blake, apparently, which was something that would only happen with her and Nora after a thousand years.
Archer's bow snapped open, Pareidolia squirming at how familiar it was—from its architecture down to the tiny quirks in its design—even though he had definitely never seen it before.
"Mayhaps 'twould be wise for the Shade and the Schnee to do the pressing of the onwards?" Archer said.
"You want us to lead the charge," Weiss said, arching an eyebrow.
"That sounds kinda dumb—with a capital D," Eir said. "I'm, like, the mega tank here, remember? You know, that one guy built to be the meat-shield in every raid?"
Archer tittered. "The Guardian and this Heroine shall attempt to do the flanking," she said. "But mayhaps we ought to do the swapping of the partners?"
"That sounds great, Archer," Weiss said a little too quickly. "Nex and Eir will act as our vanguard, while we aid them from a distance."
Huh.
Nex shot Eir a look, the knight pretty much doing the same. The blond was taller than him by at least an entire foot. Damn. First Taurus, then Jaune, and now Eir. It was a small wonder he ever caught his fiance's eye at all.
Archer hopped to her feet, grinning. "Very well! 'Tis a glorious day for the battling indeed! Let us ride for the war and the slaughter, comrades of the arms!" She spun into a flourish, poking Weiss' chestplate incessantly. "Leave none standing! Take no prisoners! For honour! For glory! For the sons and daughters of Skyrim! For…"
Eir dragged Nex away, leaving his fiance to deal with their maybe-kid—the woman of twenty-five years still waving her arms around like a little girl and screaming her lungs off.
Gods. Wherever did they go wrong raising her?
"You owe me one," Eir said. "Like, big-time."
Nex shrugged. "I'll buy you a milkshake. Just name the time and place."
"Hesus," Eir said as they padded along the pass towards the shrine. "You don't know how long it's been since I've had, like, a glass of milkshake."
"How long?" Nex said.
"Four days," Eir said. "Fuckin' feels like eternity though."
"Tell me about it," Nex said.
"Yeah, like, no," Eir said. "It's, like, a super long story, more than a hundred-thousand words long. And you're not exactly loaded with H2O."
To be fair, he was right. Weiss drank the last of his stock just a few minutes ago. But hopefully, his father was out of alcohol too.
They squatted behind a pillar, Nex glaring at the blackened heart that floated atop a pedestal, an idol of a woman with dark veins tattooed on her skin standing behind it, arms raised in reverence. The Grimm heart was there, sitting in the middle of the shrine, red tendrils crawling over its flesh.
His semblance clawed at the walls of his skull. The heart pulsed as if it were still alive—dub, dub, dub. The sound rapped on his extra pair of ears as if death had personally chosen to drop by his grave and say hello.
A grizzled man stood beside it, arms crossed as he leaned against a broken column. His eyes darted to every shadow on the wall. He was a stone amidst a creek, the cultists flowing around him. None of them seemingly dared to even come close or engage him in idle conversation. Clearly, the man was the one in charge of guarding the anchor, and the cultists were only there to act as fodder.
"Looks tough," Eir whispered. "But I can take him."
"You sure?" Nex whispered back.
"I can't die, remember?" Eir said, willingly stepping out of their shade.
The cultists stopped their chatter, stilling as they stared at the knight.
Eir drew his sword and shield, banging them against each other. "Oi! Yes, you, the morons with the matching hoods! No offence, but, honestly?! You look like Death Dealer rejects from My Immortal!"
Nex palmed his face, groaning as the grizzled man uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off his makeshift backrest.
"You," the man said. "Are you one of Ozpin's?"
"Budget Dumbledore?" Eir said, snorting. "Fuck no. I'm just here to clean up the trash."
The grizzled man cracked his neck, his hawk-like eyes fixed on the knight.
"So I'd really appreciate it if you, like, move over and let me do my thing," Eir said. "'Cuz, like, you know this bit about my job?" He chuckled. "It's a pain in the ass sometimes."
"Your name, boy?" the grizzled man said.
"Eir," the knight said, shifting into his rock-hard stance. His heart pounded even as he put on an easy grin. "So, you moving or what?"
"Hazel," the grizzled man said, flexing his shoulders. "I was about to ask you the same. Leave and no one needs to die today."
"Well, death's, like, the dumbest thing you could possibly threaten me with," Eir said, magical winds coating his sword. A scarlet glow suffused his limbs, Pareidolia shrieking at the accursed weight that blanketed the air. "Last chance. From one tank to another, you're, like, super screwed right now. Bad RNG, Hazel. Bad RNG."
"Cocky," Hazel said, his eyes narrowing into slits. Every muscle on his massive, seven-foot-tall frame tensed. "Or confident. We'll see."
The two clashed.
And with a boom that sent the nearest cultists rag-dolling towards the crumbling walls, Hazel's fist smashed against Eir's shield, kicking up a tempest of sand. When it dispersed, the two were locked in place, neither of them budging an inch. An unexpected result judging from the widening of Hazel's eyes.
Unstoppable force versus immovable object. Though he was honestly unsure which one of them was which.
Nex leapt out of the shadows, locking Hrunting into Vigilance. The gilded blade roared as he swung its pommel at a cultist's head, her nose caving in like a pack of biscuits. She screamed in pain, clutching her face as he kicked her away. The Resolutionists' sword-shaped emblem—stark on her chest—glinted under a red sun.
Still, more of them charged towards him, yelling out cries of war.
Nex grunted, ducking under a greatsword—his nimble size proving its worth. His adversary's blade was coated in fire like Inky's, the bitter heat warming his brow. But still, it was powered with dust and not magic. Nor was it as unbearably hot as the white flames Inky wielded.
A grin stretched his cheeks. He twisted past the man's guard, Hrunting and Vigilance breaking about the middle—into twin swords of blue and gold. He sent the man skidding on dirt with a thunderous sweep of his blades, merging them whole into a cannon. A blast of frost—straight to the head—shattered the man's aura like cheap glass.
Arrows of ice rained from the sky, finding their marks with deadly accuracy. The volley pinned dozens of cultists against the cracks on the floor. Some by their hoods, others by their robes, and the less fortunate ones by the flesh of their shoulders.
What stood out the most was the fact that they all fell—at the same time. If they really named their maybe-kid Archer—out of all the possible names they could have chosen—then the moniker suited her like a second skin.
White blurred, and Weiss was beside him, Myrtenaster lashing out into a flurry of sword strokes. Her blade pierced through an unlucky man's shoulder. A purple glyph spun and flung him away—into a head-first collision with the black heart.
The man slammed against it, and bone-white spikes sprang from its dark flesh, impaling his throat. Blood flowed freely from the wound even as the cultist gagged and slumped against it. Weiss gasped as she stared at the dying man, a river of his blood dripping on the black heart. The glow of Grimm shone within, its beating suddenly quicker, erratic.
Black mist wafted off the sands, Pareidolia screaming in wild protest.
"No!" Hazel said, the raw crystals of lightning dust stabbed into his shoulders sparkling. "You fool! You've doomed us all!"
Hazel rushed past Eir, even as the knight ripped a chunk of bloody flesh from his back, hollering, "Hey! Get back here!"
No such luck.
Nex gritted his teeth and shoved Weiss away. He braced his shield as Hazel's fist fizzled into existence, already poised to tear off his fiance's head had he not pushed her out of his path.
Too fast. Almost as fast as Ruby at her fastest. No doubt because of the lightning coursing through the man's veins. An excruciating infusion, suicide for all but the most formidable of huntsmen.
It was almost admirable, if not for the fact he already did it better against Pyrrha, in a much safer way, and the fact that Hazel's fist was about to send him flying into a wall—and there was nothing he could do about it.
Pangs of agony jolted up his shield-arm, the entire left half of his body shaking like a leaf. His aura slipped as his head hit stone, the world wobbling—blurry, his semblance shrinking into a mewl.
Well, it hurt less than he thought.
"Nex!" Weiss screamed, the panic in her voice piercing through the buzzing in his head. "Hold on!"
Then she was there next to him, arms wrapped around his chest as black glyphs launched them away from a falling pillar.
The shrine trembled as something under the sands roared. Whatever it was, the black heart had gone missing—and with it, the anchor's elusive magic.
"We… we need to get out," Nex croaked, dust from the roof stinging his eyes. His chest hurt like a fucking bitch. "...before the place falls on our heads."
Weiss gave him a clipped nod, her lips drawn into a taut line. They hobbled out of the temple, side-by-side, glyphs propelling them high into the air and well beyond the canyon walls. Black tentacles ripped through the sands, hungry, groping at the screaming cultists and dragging them deep into the earth, their voices dying—never to be heard again.
Something wriggled beneath, slowly digging its way to the surface. A Grimm, no doubt. Very old. And very dangerous.
"Where's Archer?" Nex said as they landed on a tall dune, hopefully away from the reach of the Grimm's tentacles.
"'Tis most fortunate!" Archer screeched—right next to his extra pair of ears. He winced. "This Heroine is here of the present!"
"Yeah, me too, by the way," Eir said. "Is it just me, or are tentacles, like, cropping up wayyyy too often?"
Archer grimaced, opening her mouth—
"Who dares to awaken me?!"
A gravelly voice echoed in the wind, like rocks grinding against each other.
"Who dares to steal my power?!"
It lurched out of the sands—a Grimm in the mockery of a cockroach, tentacles swaying on the back of its carapace. It crushed the shrine with a single step, shattering the aged stone into crumbs.
Whatever the Grimm was, it was titanic, its hot, putrid breath reeking of death and decay as it towered over them, blotting out the Vacuan sun. It was taller than Beacon's tower, its girth thicker than Atlas from a fair distance. And much more, it was talking.
"Who dares to stand before me?!"
Weiss shivered as the titan turned its gaze upon them, thousands of crimson eyes blinking in the oozy darkness under its shell.
Nex tightened his grip on his sword and shield, his aura trying its best to knit itself together.
It was… unnatural. Grimm did not speak. And they certainly did not have as many eyes as it did.
"Hmph!" Archer stepped forward, her cloak whipping in the wind. "I dare! This Heroine fears neither the gods above nor the terrors of the below!"
"You are…"
The desert rumbled as the talking Grimm turned its eyes on Archer—a woman of barely five-feet fearlessly staring up a thousand-foot monster.
"You are bold, keeper of the storm," the Grimm said, bursting into booming laughter. "By what right do you challenge me, Czipueth, herald of the dark abyss?!"
"By right of birth! By right of ascendancy!" Archer said, sweeping her ragged cloak aside. "By right of the blood coursing through my veins!"
She held her arm out, palm spread against the violent sky.
"Cosmic fire, bring!"
Oathkeeper clattered against Nexus Shade's hip, his mother's blade quivering, ringing in its sheathe like it never had before. Lightning crackled, streaking across its surface. The runes on its hilt blazed silver—brighter than it ever did.
The hell?
Archer smirked.
"The weapon of the immortal witch queen!"
Gold sliced through the heavens, a brilliant sword whirling into Archer's hand, the steel crowned with pitch-black flames as if heralding the birth of a celestial star.
Author's Notes:
Strider0327's reaction to last chapter is pretty much my reaction every time I finish writing a chapter of Guardians. It's like the crack you didn't know you needed until you got a taste of it.
Anyway, since I'm updating Guardians at the same time, I decided to shift into a bi-monthly update schedule.
Happy holidays y'all, and see y'all on March. Thanks for reading and leaving those reviews!... Even the guys who leave snarky one-sentence, passive-aggressive reviews that aren't constructive at all because I have a lot of fun roasting them. Seriously, it's called constructive criticism. If you complain about what you perceive to be a problem without proposing a solution, then more often than not, authors are just gonna ignore you and go about their day as usual. Reasonable, right?
Fun Trivia: "Call me Inky." is the first line of Today I Saw The Whole World, the sequel to Guardians of the Unknowing. The narrator Inky—full name Incitatia Hessarian—launches into a long-winded soliloquy afterwards, thus closing the reference full circle. The name Incitatia comes from incitatae, the feminine inflection of the Latin word incitatus, which means swift, at full gallop, or even aroused. It has ties to the element fire, and it's also where the name of the Roman Emperor Caligula's horse—Incitatus—comes from.