This chapter gets a little bit spicy at the beginning.

Enjoy.


Whitaker woke up beside Coco, her naked body pressed against his, her hair tickling his neck and jaw. Her breathing was slow and measured against his chest. He closed his eyes to take in— with every sense— this moment. This would be the moment that would ground him. That would keep him from disappearing. That would ensure that when he wielded Lightbearer once more, his soul would not succumb to the thousands of souls within it.

He would fight to keep himself whole. And he would do it for Coco. For Team RWBY. For his parents. For Weiss and Winter.

"Good morning," Coco murmured.

"Morning," Whitaker replied, running fingers through her hair. "How'd you sleep?"

"Best sleep I've had in months." She sighed dreamily. "What about you?"

"Same here," he said. His sleep was dreamless, something he hadn't experienced in over a year.

"Good." Coco hummed blissfully, and then shut her eyes and returned to resting.

Whitaker didn't want to disturb her, so he waited. He waited for about an hour before waking her up. "It's almost time for classes, Coco."

"Don't wanna go…" She mumbled.

"Neither do I, but we don't have a choice," Whitaker reminded. He sat up which forced Coco to sit up with him.

The blanket fell from her shoulders, revealing her bare chest to him. Whitaker stared, and stared… He admired Coco's beauty, and she eventually brought him out of his stupor, saying, "It'll last longer if you take a picture, y'know."

"Sorry," Whitaker finally said. "I—"

Coco reached out and grabbed his wrist, then she placed it right on one of her boobs. "You can keep staring. And touching. If you want."

Whitaker squeezed. Coco breathed out a sigh, her cheeks beginning to turn the shade of roses. Whitaker brushed his palm against her nipple, and with every movement, Coco's breathing quickened.

Coco leaned into Whitaker until he fell onto his back. She straddled his waist before leaning down to press her lips against his. She kissed him fiercely, one hand immediately wrapping around the back of his head and forcing him deeper into the kiss. "Are you just gonna tease me and leave it at that?"

Whitaker smirked. "I could… But you might be able to convince me otherwise."

"Oh?" Coco began to grind herself against him. "Is that what you want, Witt? You want me to convince you to fuck me?"

Whitaker groaned from the pleasure. "Y-yeah."

Coco licked her lips and—

Ding! Ding!

Whitaker's Scroll began to ring.

Coco and him looked at each other before she sighed and got off of him. She slipped into pajamas that she'd grabbed from her nearby dresser as Whitaker picked up his Scroll.

Ozpin had messaged him. Numerous times.

"Duty calls?" Coco asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist, her head coming to rest on the crook of his neck. She glanced down at the Scroll. "Oh. Duty definitely calls."

"Yeah. Unfortunately." Whitaker stood up and gathered up his clothes— the ones he wore to the dance the previous night. As he put them on, Coco watched him from her bed. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Coco rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine. Nothing a bit of self-love won't fix. Go and meet with Ozpin."

"No, Coco, I meant…" Whitaker trailed off. "I was talking about Lightbearer and Kalarel and Harros—"

"You'll figure it out," Coco said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "It might take a lot of time and effort, but you'll figure it out. You always do. So, to answer your question, I'll be okay. I know you; I trust you; and I love you."

Whitaker walked over to her and tenderly kissed her. "I love you too. And… thanks. You're right. I will figure it out."

"Now go," Coco said, gently pushing him. "Before the Headmaster gets more mad at you."

[;]

Whitaker stepped out of the elevator as it reached near the top floor of Beacon Tower. He still wore his clothes from last night's dance, as the urgency of Ozpin's messages forced him. And also because he didn't get up early enough. Because of… Well, Coco Adel.

Ozpin stood on the other side of his desk, his hands folded on the table. "I noticed you left the dance early."

Whitaker bobbed his head. "I did."

"Any particular reason why?"

"Well, I— I— Uh…" Whitaker stuttered.

Ozpin chuckled and said, "I'm only joking, Mr. Ash. Come and sit. I want to properly speak to you before we collect Lightbearer."

Whitaker did as told.

"Mr. Ash, I want you to be absolutely clear about this: Do you wish to wield Lightbearer once again?"

"Yes. I do."

"And should you lose control— should Kalarel take control— you want me to kill you?"

Whitaker nodded once. "Yes."

Ozpin rubbed his browline. "I assume you understand how complicated this is, Mr. Ash."

"I do, but I wouldn't mind more information."

Ozpin cleared his throat. "Suppose a student of mine approached me with a clear goal in mind. It would be my duty as an educator to help them in any way to achieve that goal. However, with my experience, I know that their goal could result in their death, or some other form of permanent damage or change. At this point, it would be my duty as a Huntsman to stop that student from hurting themselves, to make sure that they are properly protected. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I do," Whitaker said. "So, if killing me isn't the answer, what should we do if Kalarel takes over? Do we imprison him?"

Ozpin placed his hands on the table, and said— very slowly and carefully, "That's the problem, Whitaker. I believe that your death would be the only option we have. If Kalarel returns to the world with the power of Lightbearer in his control, all of Vale wouldn't be safe from his wrath. No prison could hold him, no Huntsman could hurt him, by putting an end to him before he can reach his full power, while he is still trapped inside of you… I do not take joy in this course of action, Whitaker. But I understand that it must be done.

"My question for you is: are you ready to die?"

Something cold settled in Whitaker's core. He shivered, staring down at the ground. Hard. Thinking. Thinking about everything. He thought about everything he'd accomplished, he'd said, he'd done so far. He had a Hunter's license at only nineteen; he'd succeeded in his solo mission to get it. Lightbearer had chosen him. Him. Of all the Hunters in the world, Lightbearer granted its powers to him. He'd fallen in love, he'd made friends and turned those friends into his family. He made his father proud and his mother as proud as she could be.

Of course, there were dark moments. His first kills at Verdant, and the first life he took in Vale. Those moments changed him. Shaped him. Rebuilt him.

By all measures, his life was one anyone would be satisfied living.

"Yes," Whitaker found himself saying. "I think I am."

Ozpin stared at him for some time. Those age-old eyes analyzed him, pulled him apart, dissected him and his answer. They questioned his conviction. Until eventually, Ozpin said, "Very well. Then you may follow me."

[;]

Whitaker and Ozpin descended the elevator in Beacon Tower. They continued, going deeper and deeper beneath the walls of Beacon Academy.

"Where are we going?" Whitaker asked.

"To the Vault, a place where things can be stored and protected under my careful watch," Ozpin answered. As he finished, the elevator came to a slow stop before the doors slid open.

The Vault was massive. Supported by large, thick pillars of stone, the roof of the Vault was shrouded in darkness despite the illumination of green Dust lanterns on every single pillar. The space seemed to stretch on and on, forever.

"Come along now, Whitaker." Ozpin's voice reverberated, echoing throughout the halls of the Vault.

Whitaker jogged to catch up. Under Ozpin's guidance in the labyrinth, they eventually found themselves in front of a stone pedestal with a gleaming sword embedded into it.

Lightbearer. Still in Lightning's form.

Whitaker felt a tug at his core— it pulled him closer to Lightbearer.

But it was Ozpin who grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. He looked at Whitaker in the eyes. "Are you ready?"

Whitaker grit his teeth. He steeled his resolve. "I am."

Striding forward, he stood before the sword.

Whitaker Ash grasped Lightbearer's hilt.

And the world shattered into a million pieces of glass.

[;]

Whitaker found himself sitting in the middle of a field of dead grass, beneath the shade and the long boughs of an old, ancient oak tree. Its leaves were nowhere to be seen, and its branches looked as though they could break off at any moment.

There, sitting beneath the tree, his back against its trunk and his legs crossed over each other, was someone he had never seen before.

The man was shirtless, save for two elaborately decorated strips of cloth that bound together in the center of his chest. He wore loose trousers that were held up by a beautiful, intricate, and ancient-looking belt. His skin was like copper, and upon his head was a headdress that was as finely crafted as the rest of his attire.

Whitaker approached, and said, "Who are you?"

"I am Arjuna, and like you, I once wielded Lightbearer," he answered. His voice was smooth and rich, calming yet filled with conviction.

"Where is Harros?" Whitaker asked, sitting before Arjuna.

"He is still present, somewhere within the Pool of Autumn." Arjuna waved to the fields around them. "But you will not find him."

"Why?"

"Because he does not wish to be found," Arjuna answered. "There is a reason why you appeared before me."

Whitaker nodded. "This isn't what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting?"

"Something more violent," Whitaker said. "I was worried that because I've been avoiding Lightbearer, that I would struggle to use it, and that there would be a war within me if I even tried to do so."

"The process is not nearly as violent as you believe it to be," Arjuna said. "But this is a strange, new concern that I have not heard of before. What brought this about?"

"During the months I haven't used Lightbearer, I've gotten weaker. Physically and spiritually, I guess. And in that time, something… took control of me. Someone took control of me and made me hurt someone else— almost kill them, really."

"You are worried that this will happen again." Arjuna nodded solemnly, and said, "Understandable. Yet strange."

"Strange? Strange how?"

"Whitaker," Arjuna began. "Lightbearer is not capable of taking control of its wielder."

The revelation turned Whitaker's blood cold. But it confused him just as much.

"Wh-what?"

"Lightbearer does not control the wielder without the wielder's explicit command, or if the wielder is in life-threatening danger, and even then it would be impossible without the weapon in your hand."

"That doesn't make any sense. Harros said that Lightbearer had its own Aura, that Lightbearer would eventually replace my soul completely, and that at the end of it, I wouldn't be the same. And when I was possessed a couple weeks ago, I knew that it wasn't me that did those things. It couldn't have been." Whitaker looked at Arjuna. "So one of you is lying."

"No, the Firebrand tells the truth, as do I," Arjuna said. "Lightbearer's aura will replace yours. But that merging is never violent. It has never been violent."

"How? How does it replace my Aura peacefully?"

"Every soul within this blade melds with yours, and as they are channeled through Lightbearer, its purifying Light ensures that you— the real, true you— remain untouched, pure, and whole." Arjuna rested his hands in his lap, folding his fingers over one another. "Earlier, you told me that you have been avoiding Lightbearer for months. And in that time, you've become weaker both in body and spirit. Have you thought about why that might be?"

Whitaker thought about it. And then he realized. "Because Lightbearer is my soul now."

"The process of soul replacement is fast and subtle," Arjuna said. "How long have you had possession of Lightbearer? How long ago did it choose you?"

"A little under a year, now."

"It would have completed the soul transfer within weeks of choosing you."

"But— but I never felt it before."

"Because, I assume, you did not fight it. You allowed it to meld its soul with yours, you allowed its Aura to blend with yours. Yet in these last few months…"

"I've been actively resisting it. Pushing it back."

"This place— it is meant to be a field of eternal light and beauty. And now…" He trailed off. He glanced up at the branches of the dead tree.

"I did this?" Whitaker asked, his voice hollow. "I… ruined all of this?"

"As I said, Lightbearer's Aura is yours. And it has not been in your presence in months."

"It needs me. And I need it."

Arjuna nodded. "You understand now."

"But— but Harros told me—"

"Why would Harros tell you those things? Why would he visit you so often and attempt to persuade you to wield Lightbearer again? Why would Kalarel manifest himself within you and forcibly take control of you? Why were they both so desperate?"

"Because they wanted to live…"

"It nearly cost Harros his own soul with how often he spoke to you; and Kalarel…"

"He's gone?"

Arjuna nodded. "He is gone. Completely. Utterly."

Whitaker almost wanted to sigh in relief, but… But he couldn't. Despite how much wrong he did, Kalarel, in his final moments, wanted to live. Wanted to continue living. He wanted everyone— including himself— within Lightbearer to continue living. He might have done it for selfish reasons, but without him…

Every soul inside of Lightbearer would be gone. They would be dead. Forever. Their souls starved of Lightbearer's partner.

He caused this. All of this. All because he didn't think he was ready for it. All because he acted selfishly, choosing himself over the duty that had been thrust upon him.

Whitaker stared down at the dead earth. He rested his hands against it. "I'm sorry. I…" His voice caught and he choked. His fingers curled and tightened, gathering up the dirt in his hands. He whispered, "I'm so sorry."

A tear dripped down his cheek and hit the earth. Followed by another. And another. Whitaker released the dirt and relaxed his hands.

"Do not be so harsh yourself, Whitaker," Arjuna said. "You did not know. And I believe that had you known—"

"I didn't know about the specifics, but Harros warned me plenty of times. Enough times that I should've listened to him. Enough times that anyone with a brain would have at least considered what he was saying." Whitaker sniffled and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"It matters that you are here now." Arjuna reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "While I respect you for your ability to reflect upon your choices, I also wish for you to learn from them. And then to let them go."

"Yeah." Whitaker breathed slowly. "I know."

"Good." Arjuna let go of his shoulder. "Now, we must talk about your future as a Wielder."

"Okay." Whitaker nodded and waited for him to continue.

"Every Wielder must endure a series of Trials given to them by one of the souls in the Pool of Autumn," explained Arjuna. "The purpose of these Trials are to ensure that the Wielder is prepared for future battles they may face, that they are able to shape Lightbearer into any form, and that they have mastered these forms."

"How many of these Trials will there be?"

"Seven. As it has always been."

"When do I start?"

"Your first Trial will reveal itself in time," Arjuna said. "Be aware that you will not be able to prepare for any Trial, and as you complete each one, the lessons you learned in the previous will serve you well in the next one."

"Can I die in these Trials?" Whitaker asked.

"No. Each Trial will occur inside of Lightbearer. Within the Reality Core."

"What happens if I die?"

"You will start that Trial again, from the beginning."

"Right." Whitaker nods. "Of course."

"Do you have any further questions?"

"When you say 'shape Lightbearer into any form,' what exactly does that mean?"

Arjuna extends his palm. A golden light fills it before it is shaped into Lightbearer— the original form that Kallios knows. Then, he molds it into a golden bow. "I mean this."

"I see." Whitaker does the same maneuver, extending his palm and attempting to conjure Lightbearer.

"Focus not on the physical weapon, but on your soul. Your Aura. Remember that Lightbearer is part of you now, and you will be able to call upon it whenever you need to."

Whitaker nodded. He shifted his thoughts and focus inward, trying to feel without any of his other senses. He searched and searched, his jaw tightening as he delved into his own body.

And then he saw it.

There in his heart, he saw hundreds of glittering lights above him and below him. It was like an ocean of lightning bugs, all within him. It was beautiful.

Whitaker reached out with a hand.

Slowly, one light was pulled into his palm. Followed by more, and more, and more with every single light several more followed until every light had been assembled before him.

In his hands was Lightbearer. In its purest form. A rotating, brilliantly shining orb of golden light.

Whitaker heard Arjuna speak. "Wonderful."

Whitaker opened his eyes— he didn't even realize that he'd closed them— and saw Lightbearer in his hand now. It bore Lightning's form, the curved, single edged swords separated from each other.

"I believe that is all I am able to tell you at this time," Arjuna said, bringing his hands back into his lap. He looked into Whitaker's eyes. "Are you ready?"

Whitaker took a deep breath. He released Lightbearer, feeling it settle once more in his heart. Then, he looked up at Arjuna. Behind his cobalt eyes, a storm of lightning swirled.

"I'm ready."

[;]

Whitaker opened his eyes. Lightbearer— the sword— was gone. He turned around to face Ozpin.

"Whitaker?" The Headmaster asked. "Where did Lightbearer go?"

Whitaker extended his palm. He summoned Lightbearer, and suddenly there it was: a golden blade in his hand.

"And how are you feeling?"

"Good," Whitaker answered, genuinely meaning it. "I feel good."

"And your Aura?"

Whitaker gathered it into his hand with Lightbearer, watching as his Aura followed down his shoulder, through his arm, and into his palm. His eyes widened— his Aura had changed. No longer was it red; now, it was a swirling combination of red and gold.

And it felt different. It felt… strong. Powerful. Completely different from how his Aura once felt and looked, but not entirely unfamiliar.

"Guess it worked," Whitaker murmured.

"Whitaker," Ozpin said. "Are you feeling alright? Truly?"

"Yes, Headmaster." Whitaker smiled. "Better than ever, really."

Ozpin nodded firmly. "Good. Let's hope your capabilities have only gotten better."

"Headmaster," Whitaker began. "How much time passed?"

"Only a few seconds since you touched the sword," Ozpin answered. "Why?"

"Oh. I see," Whitaker said. "No reason. Just curious."

"Very well." Ozpin settled his cane to his side and began to walk back toward the elevator that delivered both of them to the Vault.

On the ride back up to the ground floor, Ozpin said, "I believe you have Ms. Goodwitch's class first today, right?"

"I do."

"I'll send her an excuse for your tardiness." Ozpin smiled slightly. The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. "Now get going, Whitaker."

Whitaker smiled back at the Headmaster and made his way to Ms. Goodwitch's classroom.

It was time to put Lightbearer to the test.

[;]

"Okay, what the hell happened to Whitaker?" Yang asked quietly. She watched from the elevated seats in the arena. She watched as Whitaker dismantled all of Team JNPR in less than a minute. Without a weapon. Even Pyrrha. The champion could only withstand thirty seconds before Whitaker disarmed her. Yang had never even seen Pyrrha get disarmed.

"Yeah, he's… He's fighting differently," Blake added.

"It's not that he's fighting differently. He's just fighting better," Ruby said. "He did say that after the dance he would be getting his sword back. But I don't see it anywhere. Isn't it a gold sword?"

"Yeah," Blake said. "It is."

Team JNPR picked themselves back up, heading into the locker rooms to massage their injuries and change back into their uniforms.

Ms. Goodwitch looked up at the stands. "Does anyone else wish to challenge Whitaker Ash, today?"

The entire room was silent.

"Very well. Then, Team—" Ms. Goodwitch glanced at her Scroll. "Change of plans: you're all free to go. I have to attend to something urgent."

Whitaker, still in the arena, looked at Ms. Goodwitch. He approached her, and, from this distance, Yang couldn't hear what they were saying. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blake's bow twitch.

"What are they talking about?" Yang questioned.

"Whitaker wants to challenge Ms. Goodwitch. Something about letting her take her frustrations out on him," Blake whispered.

"Like in a good way or a bad way?" Yang asked.

"Considering the fact that Whitaker and Ms. Goodwitch are both standing in the center of the arena and Whitaker hasn't changed out of his fighting gear yet" Blake began, "I'd say it's the latter, not the former."

Ruby just hummed and drummed her fingers against her thighs.

With both of their Auras synced up to the monitors, Whitaker and Glynda stood opposite each other.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Even in front of your team?" She asked.

"Don't ask me that when you're just as eager to fight me," Whitaker said, motioning to Glynda's already-equipped riding crop.

The Headmistress smirked. "Fair enough."

Whitaker held out his hand. Team RWBY and Glynda watched as golden light filled his palm.

"What's he—"

Whitaker summoned Lightbearer. A gleaming, brilliantly shining sword that bore the resemblance of Lightning.

"Holy shit," breathed Yang.

Glynda's eyes merely narrowed. "Are you ready?"

Whitaker did not verbally respond. Instead, he dashed towards her at a blinding speed, Lightbearer poised to strike. The experienced Hunter's instincts kicked into overdrive as Glynda used her Semblance to crack and break off the stone floor of the arena, using it as a shield to block Whitaker's attack. The stone wall proved sufficient— it stopped Whitaker in his tracks.

"Hiding already?" Whitaker gloated.

"If you have time to taunt," Glynda began. Yang noticed parts of the wall beginning to fragment into small shards of stone. "Then you have less time to think!" Glynda shot the stone shards at Whitaker; a barrage of tiny, sharp stones flew in his direction— hundreds of them at once.

Ruby's eyes widened. "His Aura won't be able to—!"

Whitaker raised Lightbearer. He split the sword in two— just like he could with Lightning.

Just before the stones impacted him, before they could pierce his Aura, he cut them in two.

Each and every stone was sliced in half by his blades; surgically, precisely, he carved himself a path through the barrage until he stood just beyond the threshold of Glynda's stone wall. Behind him, on the far side of the arena, the impacts of the stone shards were like bullet holes.

Yang stared, slack-jawed. "Did he just…"

"Yeah," Blake confirmed. "He cut every single one of those rocks before they could actually reach him."

Even Glynda seemed impressed. But her fight wasn't over yet.

Whitaker pressed his advantage. With how much stone she threw at him, he knew that the wall was weakened. With a dividing slash from both blades, he cut the wall down and exposed Glynda.

From there, the Headmistress of Beacon was on her backfoot. She dodged each attack within a hair's breadth, and whatever she couldn't dodge she conjured a barrier to protect her; she returned fire when she could, launching bursts of purple energy from below as she maneuvered. But Whitaker's speed— his reaction time— seemed more powerful than ever. As the projectiles attacked him, he'd already seen them coming and moved out of the way.

"She's not gonna be able to win this," Yang said, watching as the two fighters carved through the arena. She could see sweat forming on Glynda's brow, her face was tense and firm, focused on the fight.

"No, she has a plan," Ruby countered.

"What do you mean?" Yang asked.

"Look up."

Yang and Blake both looked up. And then Yang smiled, impressed.

Ms. Goodwitch wasn't aiming primarily at Whitaker with her attacks. She knew that he would dodge every single one. She was aiming at the ceiling, weakening the stone with each blast of energy.

Whitaker, none the wiser, continued to pressure her. With both blades of Lightning, he repeatedly attempted to attack Glynda. And with each attack, Glynda's retaliation only weakened the stone ceiling even more.

It was only a matter of time and opportunity now.

"Enough!" Whitaker exclaimed. He stepped back from her, finally giving Glynda space. "I think we both know who the winner of this fight is."

Glynda raised a brow and rested a hand on her hip. While her Aura was significantly lower than Whitaker's, she was still in the yellow. Just barely. "Last I checked, I'm still not in the red, Mr. Ash."

"In all fairness, Ms. Goodwitch, I have you beat. I just don't want to fight you anymore."

Glynda hummed. "Unfortunate."

The Headmistress activated her Semblance, a field of purple surrounding her. Within moments, the ceiling came crashing down with a great cracking and rumbling. Right on top of Whitaker.

He looked up to see heavy stones falling. In a panic, he raised up his hands— dispelling Lightbearer— in an attempt to keep the stone from completely crushing him. Whitaker shut his eyes.

But nothing came. He opened his eyes again to see the stone hovering inches above his head.

"Do you still believe yourself to be the winner?" Glynda asked.

Whitaker sighed. "No. I surrender."

"Good." Glynda lifted the stones back up to the ceiling, returning them to their proper place.

Team RWBY all sighed in relief.

"The rest of Team RWBY," Glynda called. "Do you mind giving Whitaker and I the room? I believe we have some important things to discuss."

Ruby, Blake, and Yang glanced at each other. They each nodded. Yang knew that Whitaker had been close with Glynda, and that, probably because of what he did to Mercury, their relationship became strained.

"Yeah, no problem, Ms. G," Yang said. "C'mon. Let's go."

They all filed out of the arena, leaving Whitaker and Glynda inside.

[;]

"Is this your way of apologizing?" Glynda questioned.

"No, it's not." Whitaker glanced at the ground. The twisted and broken floor of the arena.

"Then why ask for this?"

"Because I knew that it would give me a chance to talk to you," Whitaker said. "With a clearer head. For both of us."

Glynda crossed her arms. "Then I will be frank, Mr. Ash. You severely injured a student from another academy. So much so that the doctors that are taking care of him believe he will never be able to become a Huntsman with the surgeries necessary. You stole that from Mercury."

"I know."

"And yet the Headmaster deemed you important enough to not only allow you to stay at Beacon, but also allowed you to reacquire that weapon of yours." Glynda exhaled harshly. "Were it up to me…"

"I know," Whitaker said. "I heard part of your conversation with Ozpin."

"Then you know where I stand."

"I do, I just want you to understand it from my perspective," Whitaker said.

"Does this have to do with what you said to me several months ago? About telling me once you've decided to wield Lightbearer again?"

"Yes," Whitaker said with a nod. "We should sit. This might take a while to explain."

After heading up to the stands of the arena and sitting down, Whitaker told Glynda everything. He told her everything that he'd told the rest of Team RWBY; and then explained to her what Arjuna explained to him.

His soul had been melded with Lightbearer's, and the reason for his violent outburst against Mercury was completely his fault. It might have been brought upon by Kalarel's influence, but had Whitaker chosen to wield Lightbearer, had he not chosen to abandon his duty— his destiny— then it never would have happened. He never would have ruined Mercury's life.

Glynda, at the end of Whitaker's explanation, simply sighed. "I wish you had told me this sooner, Whitaker."

"I don't think it would have changed—"

"It would have changed much," Glynda cut him off. "It would have saved me the hurt of believing one of my favorite students was capable of such things; and it would have saved me the pain of needing to see you expelled for what you did despite how much I did not want that."

Ms. Goodwitch's eyes— Glynda's eyes— began to well up with tears. But they never fell. She held them within her eyes. "You say that what you did to Mercury was your fault, but I could not disagree more. You did not deserve to have such a burden placed upon you, and I cannot fault you for choosing to push it aside. Especially because you are far too young to deal with such a weight. For Kalarel to command you to hurt Mercury… It is his fault. His actions. Not yours."

"But I'm still to blame in some parts," Whitaker said. "I still need to apologize. For hurting you. Even though I didn't mean to, and even though you don't think I'm responsible, it doesn't change the fact that what I did caused you pain. And I want to apologize for that. So: I'm sorry, Ms. Goodwitch. I really am."

Glynda wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and said, "You are forgiven. And I am sorry for being so harsh on you, for not giving you the chance to explain sooner. That was wrong of me."

"And I forgive you." Whitaker smiled.

Glynda returned it. After clearing her throat and making sure she had no tears in her eyes, Glynda stood up. "Feel free to take the rest of the day off, Whitaker. I'll inform Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck of your absence."

"Okay," Whitaker said. As Glynda began to walk away, he called out to her, "Ms. Goodwitch, do you think it would be alright if we continued those training sessions?"

"You have my Scroll, Whitaker," Ms. Goodwitch answered, standing at the threshold of the door. "Feel free to reach out whenever." Then, she slipped away.

Whitaker stared at his palm.

Golden electricity sparked between his fingertips.


I am updating this so fast! I've been really enjoying writing this story (mainly because I feel like the plot is actually going somewhere now), and I've found myself a lot of free time. Of course, no promises that updates will remain this fast, but hopefully they will?

See you in the next one!