Wraith

Chapter Thirty Nine

Beta: Smithrooks

Shadow Dancing

Beacon, unknown, present day…

"Why me?" Jaune begged to his counterparts, "why does it have to be me?"

One of the souls came closer to him, the warm white light at odds with the harsh white snow around them. The gentle pulses of light it gave off were almost hypnotic, but Jaune wasn't tricked. He knew there was more to this than meets the eye.

"Why?" the Memory of Nihilus questioned. "You're just unlucky. It had to be someone, and you just happened to be the sacrifice."

Jaune chuckled weakly. "Sacrifice? Is that what I am to you? Is that why you made Nihilus take me?"

It made sense, in a horrible sort of way. He didn't know what he was being sacrificed for, but to expend six different Jaune Arcs to get it…?

All at once, Jaune felt all of the souls of his counterparts brush against him. It was a sensation unlike anything he'd ever felt before - as though he was burning from the inside, like he'd swallowed a star.

Joy. Happiness. Friendship. Fulfillment. Contentment. Love.

It was emotion, but there was nothing attached to it. Like… like the rings. But instead of hatred or sorrow, it was… nice. Positive emotions brushed past him, just barely scratching the surface but still hot enough to scorch him in ways Jaune didn't understand.

There were other emotions mixed in; melancholy, sadness… but they were minor. To look at them would be to ignore the majority of what he was feeling - to ignore what these counterparts of his had felt in their lifetimes.

"I think I understand," Jaune whispered as he felt the souls swell around him.

They were empty, and whatever consciousnesses belonged to these alternate Jaunes had passed a long time ago. But Jaune could tell what these were for. All these 'Jaunes' were old. They didn't die in pain or distress, they didn't lead lives overwhelmed with hardship and suffering. Whatever anguish they faced was insignificant compared to the overall joy they found by the end of their lives.

Jaune might have even called it beautiful, were he not so envious.

"Do you?" the Memory of Nihilus questioned softly into the snowy air. "What I - we - are asking you to do will mean your death."

Once, what felt like years ago but was really only weeks, Jaune might have been afraid of that. But now… he wouldn't welcome it, but he would see to the task set out before him by his predecessors. Even if it meant death.

"If it means an end to Nihilus," Jaune agreed. "I'll do it."

Not for the greater good. Not because it was the 'right' thing to do. But because he felt that Nihilus had lived for long enough. Because all things must die in the end.

"Nihilus knows you," The Memory smiled. "Or he thinks he does. He believes that you've given up, that you drown in misery. He would know, because that is what he felt - what drove him into the world-eater that he is now."

Jaune raised his hand and brushed it against the closest soul, exquisite joy filling him for just the barest fraction of a second. "Looking at these souls, I can't help but feel he is wrong."

"For them, perhaps," the Memory agreed. "They all lived their lives either unaware of Nihilus or simply uninvolved. When the time is right, when Nihilus sees fit to test you again, he will look into your soul expecting to find despair and anguish. But for all your hardship, he will find only these emotions - that is how will kill him. Not through battle or bloodshed, but by showing him that even one as damaged as you can find happiness."

There was perhaps an insult in that somewhere, but Jaune didn't care for it. An end to all the suffering, all the anguish and hardship that had plagued his life since coming to Beacon. Was it a cowardly thing to do? To accept dying and moving on without really trying at life? Perhaps, but he'd already died once before. To be here now felt wrong, as though he were being stretched too thin. Like there wasn't enough of him left anymore.

"Who were they?" Jaune asked, "What kind of lives did they lead? Not that it'll change anything, but I'd like to think that somewhere, somehow, a Jaune Arc lived a good life."

"The first never left for Beacon," one of the souls flared in response to the Memory's words. "He lived the life his father hoped he would. He lived joyously, had a wife and kids, and died an old man surrounded by hordes of grandchildren all crying at his bedside. He greeted death like an old friend, but he allowed me this last kindness to give to another."

Jaune almost felt jealous. It was the life he could have had, once upon a time. But he'd made his choice. There was no going back.

"Another became a hunter because his father trained him from an early age," the Memory went on, a second soul brightening brilliantly. "He endured the rigours of being a huntsman, and came out stronger for it. He loved his wife more than the world itself, and though he died young he promised that he would endure any suffering to save his love. When he died, I offered him a chance to save his love again. He promised that no Ruby Rose would ever suffer while he could stop it."

Ruby, huh? That was the life he'd dreamed of when he'd wished to become a hunter, to live and die as a hero.

Another soul glowed vibrantly. "The third had a life fraught with hardship, losing his family at a young age and losing his memory soon after. But through his suffering he eventually found his own fulfillment. He found his own reasons for doing what he did, and while he may have driven many to despair, this Jaune found his own solace. He died fulfilled and satisfied with his life. When I asked for his aid, he made me promise I wouldn't allow another Jaune do as he did."

Ah, a tragic type then. One drowning in hardship but still rooted in empathy, if his last request is to be believed. Not a life Jaune would have wanted, but one he could respect.

"The fourth carved out a name and reputation for himself." The soul closest to Jaune hummed as the Memory spoke. "He dreamed of a world where he was a hero, and a world where no one cried. This Jaune found no single love, because he loved the world itself. But he was too weak to save the world he loved; so I granted him power enough to fulfill his dream of a tearless world, a world where his friends would never have to suffer, and in return he promised his soul to me so that he may save another world."

Jaune sighed with a weak smile. Sounds like a fool really, but it was the kind of fool that Jaune used to love.

"The fifth was a man determined to right wrongs and achieve great things." Another soul glowed. "He spent his life devoted to bridging the gap between humanity and the Faunus. Though he never achieved his dream in its entirety, he found his own happiness as he and his wife dedicated their lives for something altogether larger than themselves. When he died, Jaune Belladonna asked only to one day see a world where all beings are equal."

Jaune Belladonna? Dying with a pretty huntress for a wife wasn't a bad way to go. And true to Arc fashion, the man kept dreaming of a better tomorrow even as the present rotted. "And the sixth?" Jaune asked, melancholic humour bubbling within him.

"The sixth was a nothing and a nobody," the Memory laughed as the last soul shone like a star. "But he was my favourite. He never became famous, or powerful or skilled. This man did what he wanted to do and he lived by his own standards. He died an ignoble death and lived a life many would find wanting. In the end, this Jaune died utterly content. When I asked for his help to put an end to Nihilus he came gladly, not out of desperation to live, but because he thought I was amusing."

Jaune withheld his faintly amused scoff. That Jaune sound like an ass. But a content one at least, and for that Jaune could admit he was jealous.

But they were just stories now. The essence of who they were may linger, but the beings themselves had moved on. Were they happy? Or was the afterlife something to be feared…? Not that it would make a difference at this point, but Jaune felt that since he was going to play the part of sacrificial lamb he could at least be told the answer.

"Where will I go?" Jaune questioned idly. It wasn't like the answer would change his mind, but he was curious. "After I fade away, after someone like Nihilus can't resurrect me I mean."

Around them the snowy hellscape of corpses began to disintegrate, the world slowly burning away under something unseen to Jaune. It was pretty, in a terribly sad kind of way.

"Where? That's a good question." The voice of the Memory was growing quieter. "Nihilus never discovered that. But… I hope it's somewhere nice, somewhere Nihilus can see his wife and daughter again. And where he can meet these other Jaunes, so he can hear their stories."

Jaune smiled. Yeah, that would be nice.

The image of the scarred Memory faded away entirely as the world dissolved.

In the blink of an eye, Jaune found himself back in his dorm room, the quiet sounds of his team gentle audible in the background as he adjusted to the darkness.


Beacon, present day…

Nihilus could admit that not much made him feel guilty these days.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

This…. this brought the slightest twinge of guilt.

Healing the Winchester boy some hour or so earlier had killed a little bit of boredom, but in the nights when the Betrayer slept Nihilus could admit to some level of restlessness. It wasn't the same as waiting. Because waiting implied an end result, something to wait for. But what did he have? Wait for the Betrayer to awaken, whisper things in the boy's ear until he slept again. Then repeat.

What the hell was taking Cinder so long? Couldn't she see that he had a busy schedule?! Nihilus had things to do! Murders to commit and Ironwoods to kill!

Wait, no he didn't. That's why he was doing nothing.

"Just stop!"

Oh wait, that's right. There was something.

"You're worthless. Nothing. Nobody!"

The tiny form of a distinctly more child-like Weiss Schnee trembled as more shadowy figures screamed at her. Unsurprising, considering she looked about four or five years old.

"Why didn't you stop Ruby, Weiss? Why didn't you save my daughter?"

It was a dream of course, a nightmare at that. So not terribly interesting for one such as he, at least normally. But little Weiss was a damaged creature, not terribly broken like the Betrayer, but fundamentally wounded in a way beyond the physical.

That was why Nihilus felt guilt. The soul was a gorgeous thing to behold, something unfettered by anything other than the mortal that claimed it. Little Weiss was an exception, however, as there were… pieces of another Weiss cutting into her. The other Weiss was dead and gone of course, but the parts that made up who she was still remained.

There would be no afterlife for that particular Weiss Schnee. No eternal peace and not even a semblance of life at all. She wasn't even a ghost, she was so much less now than she used to be.

"Please stop!"

What was left of her was terribly ham-fisted too.

Weiss Schnee was dead, but parts of her still remained. Guilt, anger, sorrow, hate and anguish were all just bits that remained. That, and the scattered memory or two. But for the younger, and altogether smaller Weiss to feel all these things was killing her. The mortal mind wasn't meant to comprehend such things, not without the aid of their true soul to shield them like he had.

The soul was a beautiful thing, but the soul of Weiss Schnee was being rent in ways even Nihilus loathed.

It was sickening to observe, on a physical and metaphysical level. Spiritually, it was as though shards of glass were being stabbed into a work of art, physically it was as though a bunch of dark and oily shadows were looming over a small child.

Wait, no, that's right. Weiss was dreaming, she wasn't actually a five-year-old girl. She was really like, seven or something.

Whatever.

Nihilus didn't like that. He didn't like that he'd caused the little Schnee this… pain. Oh, he didn't regret killing the other Weiss - the rotten viper got the death that she deserved. But he did regret the mutilation of her soul; such things were sacred, beyond even him. A soul cannot be created by anything other than a mother and a father, but a soul can be destroyed if enough pressure was applied.

It was horrible, disgusting even. A soul was a divine thing, something terribly delicious but still altogether wonderful. Weiss Schnee deserved many horrible things, many terrible punishments, but this? No, no, no. That was a punishment reserved only for the most wretched. Only for Ironwood.

Perhaps he could do a second kindness for the night? He was always true to his debts after all, and after what he did to the older Weiss he certainly owed her something.

It wasn't like he could pay her back directly, what with her being utterly less than human now. But perhaps the little Weiss within her dreams could be afforded some vague comfort.

With a sigh Nihilus forced himself deeper into the dream, enough to appear physically beside the trembling form of the younger Weiss. Stupid little girl didn't even know she was dreaming, little brat wouldn't even remember his charity! Ungrateful scum.

With a wave of a hand, Nihilus battered the dark shadows of the nightmare away from the sobbing girl, their shouts of rage and accusation burning away in an instant under Nihilus' focussed gaze. Nightmares were always so fickle, only as real as the dreamer made them.

"D-Daddy?"

She clutched at his robe like a lifeline.

With a snarl, Nihilus slapped the girl away. He had a daughter once, but this wretch was not her.

The little form of Weiss staggered back clutching at her swelling cheek in dismay, her eyes wide with hurt.

"I am not your father," Nihilus hissed, "My daughter is dead. You are just a stupid little girl!"

Nihilus grinned savagely as she began crying. This was the kind of pain he could get behind, the kind the he intended to inflict. Her suffering was majestic, and her tears soothing to him.

Nihilus pulled himself out of the dream with a chuckle, vanishing from the twisted mindscape of the little Schnee without even the barest sound. He'd done his kindness for now. And although ultimately nothing had been achieved, it was still something to do in the waning darkness while the Betrayer slept. Nihilus wasn't interested in peeking into whatever the Betrayer dreamt of, he probably just wallowed in his misery and anguish.

Pathetic.


Grimmlands, many years ago…

Two years and eleven months after the Fall of Amity.

"My lady!"

Watts was practically tripping over himself as he rushed towards the meeting room of his Queen.

"My lady!"

The doors slammed open as the elder Atlesian man forced his way into the room, his breath coming in harsh pants as he practically sprinted to his lady's side. Those gathered around the stone table that dominated the room stopped dead upon Watts' abrupt entrance.

Hazel and Tyrian's eyes followed Watts as he bowed deeply to their lady. Watts wasn't sure where Cinder was, but frankly he didn't care. This was more important by far.

"My lady Salem, I have excellent news!" Watts cried.

"Excellent enough to interrupt this meeting, Watts?" Salem's voice was as smooth as velvet, but nobody missed the undertone.

"Yes, my lady," Watts simpered; it was indeed grand news. He would no doubt be greatly rewarded for this. "My lady, I have discovered the location of the Arc boy! The one you have sought after!"

And it was a long time coming too, given that the boy had been hiding for nearly three years. The information was good, but it needed to be acted upon quickly lest they be beaten to the catch.

Salem's eyes glowed in bloody delight, her red irises literally brightening. "This is good news Watts, I was growing tired of waiting. Tell me, where is he and how did you discover him?"

"Yes Watts," Tyrian giggled from the other side of the table, "tell us how you found this little birdy, tell us!"

Watts ignored him, but he could feel even Hazel's harsh and interested gaze boring into the back of his head. "My lady, the Grimm you created several months ago to observe the boy's family have finally caught sight of our quarry - he has been hiding within an abandoned mineshaft outside his hometown. The Grimm set to watch his sisters and father noticed the repeated absence of the father and eldest sister, upon following them-"

"Yes," Salem interrupted. "I see. Excellent work Watts, I am pleased."

Watts felt a grin slip over his face. Of course she was pleased, he was the best of her subjects after all. He was the greatest weapon she had at her disposal - one can never doubt the power of an intelligent mind after all.

"We will test him," Salem announced, her blood-red eyes settling onto Tyrian. "Dear Tyrian, do you think this boy could be my equal? That he could stand beside me?"

"Of course not!" Tyrian cried, looking as though he was physically disgusted with the idea. "No one could ever be as magnificent as you! No one could ever be as wondrous!"

Watts withheld his scoff of disdain for the insane scorpion. What an utter suck.

"Very good," Salem purred, "you will go to him and you will fight him. If you kill him, you will have been correct. If you fail, and you die… I will be disappointed in you."

Tyrian leapt to his feet with wide eyes, a manic devotion twisting his face. "I won't let that happen! I'll strangle him with my own guts if I have to!"

Watts could only wish the fool would.

"Indeed," Salem purred as Tyrian began to make for the door. "Oh, and Tyrian, make it interesting why don't you? Take a… Gleam Eyes with you. That should be sufficient."

Watts felt his eyes widen, his body growing still as his mind tried to process what he had just heard. A Gleam Eyes…?

The Arc boy had no chance.

Not against that.


Mineshaft, many years ago…

Two years and eleven months after the Fall of Amity.

Jaune 'stared' at the vast array of colours set out before him.

There were so many books, each filled with an empty soul.

Actually, there were three-hundred and forty-two books, each filled with a hollow soul.

The souls he extracted from his inner being were all dead but alive, things that were so terribly empty and resembled what life was - but were at the same time a stark reminder of what life was not.

But Jaune had found some petty purpose for them, something to help fill the hollow places in their centres. Not true life, barely even a facsimile. But still a kindness for a world so utterly empty of such a thing.

The things Jaune knew about aura could change the world, change the way huntsmen and huntresses lived and died. But what use was knowledge when it wasn't shared? What use was knowing the path to salvation when he was on a different road altogether?

But that's where these books came in.

Each one was filled with something. Some with the hard facts regarding aura and the soul, others more speculative in nature. But each with a purpose.

But after three hundred books, Jaune felt himself at a loss. They were all he knew of aura, all he knew of the soul. All it would take was somebody - anybody - stumbling upon them and they'd have more knowledge about the soul than literally thousands of huntsmen and huntresses. There was literally nothing more he knew about aura.

Jaune clutched an 'empty' book in his hand.

But there were still some things he wanted to do. Messages he wanted to give and stories he wanted to tell.

So he was going to make another. Not a book about aura, but something for his father.

Where would Jaune be now without his father? Murdered either by Grimm or hunters after what happened at Amity. Even before that though, John Arc always tried to be a good father and a good man. Trying to guide his children away from the disastrous life of a hunter. But Jaune had looked at his father's soul, he had seen the terrible rends and wounds the man carried with him.

Such things were beyond Jaune's full understanding. He couldn't just 'fix' the hurt that his father carried with him. But he could tell a story.

Jaune palmed the book in his hand, gently forcing one of the many souls he had wronged into its pages. The soul took to its new anchor like all the others did, screaming wordlessly the entire way until some semblance of peace was felt.

Then silence. Waiting.

So Jaune told his story.

"Hey Dad," the words were being poured into the book. "Did I ever tell you about the happy times I had at Beacon? The friends I made and the fun I had?"

John Arc may not have had such things himself, but Jaune would share his joy.

"I'm sure it's not hard to believe, but I made a total ass of myself the moment I arrived." Jaune laughed, the book mirroring him. "I puked my guts out the second I got off the airship. Then I met a pretty girl and made my first friend. Ruby Rose, she was called… she was as awkward as I was, so I think we balanced each other out."

She almost certainly hated him now too. From what he'd seen peeking at the souls of his old friends, Ruby and Yang in particular were so terribly full of hatred and pain, the kind that was deep-rooted in a way that Jaune could never fully take away.

"Before initiation I met another girl, I didn't even know she was meant to be famous. I thought she was just like the rest of us… I was wrong. Pyrrha Nikos became my best friend, the person I trusted most and relied on the most. She's a kind soul, I wonder what she thinks of me now…"

She was very lonely now, from what Jaune could see. She walked through Beacon and Vale just… waiting. Maybe for company, or maybe for something else.

"I'd like to see her again one day, even if she didn't know it was me or even if it's fifty years from now. I'd like to speak with her, tell stupid jokes and laugh with her."

Heh, the day would probably never come. But it was nice to think about.

"After initiation and my injuries, I found out I was partnered with a guy called Cardin Winchester. Nice guy, a bit of a lump sometimes… but he was my friend." Jaune missed him. He missed a lot of things really, but the souls of his teammates were something he held dear. "Stuff happened, I did some stupid things and apparently I became a hero because I set myself on fire to stop some Grimm in Vale."

There was perhaps a little more to it than that, but that was the gist of it really. Dying had hurt something fierce, and it was not an experience Jaune ever really wanted to try his hand at again. Being a hero was great and all, but living was nicer.

"I had good times and I had bad," Jaune felt the soul within the book glow brilliantly as it took in his words. "I loved having friends, I loved living my life. Everything was going well, I was becoming the hero I always dreamed of being… and then, father, it was as though the dream came crashing down around me."

And crash it did. Everything came down hard, tearing away what Jaune had finally called his own.

"You taught me that evil is just a word, that under the skin it is simple pain. But I know now that innocence is chrysalis… a phase designed to end." Jaune rested his head against the book, tears gently slipping down his face. "For you, mercy was victory. You sacrificed, you endured, and when given the chance you forgave... always."

Which was more than he did. Jaune could see now that he wasn't, nor was he ever, cut out for the life of a huntsman. He was too scared, too afraid of losing himself to either death or becoming one of the monsters he was meant to fight.

"When I was young, I dreamed and desired. But for all my want of the life of a hunter, you shot me down. Didn't you want me to be like you? I was so sure I could save everyone… But I regret. I regret more than ever… My semblance is a curse. Would that I could never have unlocked it."

There was an endless list of things that Jaune regretted now. Too many things, too much that he couldn't take back. He didn't want to die, but he didn't want to live either. It was an odd dichotomy.

"For me, the dream of being a hunter is over… and in waking, I am alone." Alone in a deep dark cave, with only two people in the world not wanting him to die a horrible death. "I've looked into the heart of the world, and I am afraid. Afraid of all that I have seen, all that I could see… the world is about to change."

And it was, it was as though the world was on a precipice. Like something was about to happen but everyone was holding their breaths. Jaune could hardly fathom what it all meant, but he knew there was a storm on the horizon. Be it the Grimm or something altogether more human, Jaune didn't know; there were bad tidings from Atlas and their militarism as well as increased numbers of Grimm worldwide since the Fall of Amity…

It would reach a boiling point sooner or later.

"Perhaps there is no name for what I am, but I know the world is about to change." Jaune couldn't help a morose chuckle. "I had thought that I would be a defender, a protector… yet, as you and I sat in the dark together, I wondered if even I could be redeemed. But father… I am afraid."

The soul within the book warmed in his hands as Jaune finished his message. Perhaps it wasn't as cheerful as he'd hoped, but it was a thing of the heart nonetheless. When John next came to visit him, Jaune would give him the book.

It was the only kindness he could give…


893


A/N

An interesting thing, that book. Equal parts fear for the future and regret for the past. It also begs the question how it eventually ended up where it was in chapter thirty-three (yes, it's that book).

Anyway, I'm sure you can all see that it's the beginning of the end for Jaune's little exile and for current Jaune's life. So shit gets real.

Reviews:

The Powder Keg:

Terribly sorry for the delay, I've got uni starting soon and I'm a little pressed for time. Thanks for reviewing though.

As for your question... Probably. Chances are that Jaune wouldn't out of fear of dying, but the process of removing his own soul would be similar to that of what he was already doing. The only issue is whether or not he'd fade away before he managed to bind himself to something.

As for Nihilus? Definitely. He's actually already done it - the rings he gave to Jaune. The fire ring is just an off-cut of his soul that is rooted in rage and anger. The gravity ring is a little different, as while it is also a soul chunk of Nihilus it is what Nihilus bound Jaune's soul to when he resurrected him. In the grand scheme of things there isn't much Nihilus can't do - most notably he can't resurrect anyone that has completely faded away (his wife, his daughter, basically anyone he'd ever want to bring back to life...). Other than that there aren't really any limits to his power.

Again, apologies for the delay.

ZHsteven:

Thanks for reviewing.

What about it was unclear? What you read is still only about half the conversation, the other half will come next chapter, so maybe that's where some of your confusion stems from? Perhaps a reread is in order.

The books are the same ones featured in earlier chapters; and while they were certainly made with only good intentions in mind, they are still very similar in nature to the Rings that Jaune wears. Dangerous in a subtle way. The constant screaming is also something of a giveaway…

Shaded Azure:

Thanks for reviewing.

Heh, I don't get that often. So thanks.


Thank you all for reading! Don't forget to leave a review!