Yo! More Cinderella.
Maybe also the first chapter of Who We Used to Be coming out later? Not sure.
Anyways, where were we?
Start Chapter 46
Jaune can tell when Ozma arrives, because the magic of Evernight just sort of… changes.
He is suddenly aware of the fact that Evernight's aura – to use a familiar term – is warm, almost scalding, as Ozma's own magic comes in and begins to cool it. He is aware of how Evernight is somehow sharp, like a razor's edge, as the blunt side of Ozma's magic curls around it, and blankets that edge in something soft and soothing.
Instantly, Jaune has the feeling that yes, Salem and Ozma are soulmates.
Or, at the very least, they are whatever came before soulmates.
Jaune can tell, too, that Salem – as much as she might not want to admit it – feels almost more relaxed as she feels that aura, too. He watches as she slouches somewhat. As her posture, normally regal and attentive, wanes.
And the moment that the doors to the many-windows-room crack open, she seems to purposefully hide all of that, retaking the same old position, with the same posture as before.
Jaune almost wants to sigh, even if, somewhere buried at the back of his heart of hearts, he thinks the whole thing is kind of cute.
"It's certainly been a while since I've walked these halls." Oscar Pine's voice sounds out, echoing off of the ceiling in the near silent audience hall. "Nearly… four and a half thousand years, at this point?"
"Five thousand." Salem corrects him, with a small, absent amusement playing about her eyes.
"You've… been here before?" Qrow seems unable to help himself from asking.
"I have." Ozma admits, nodding his head. "Very, very sparingly across my many lifetimes. Normally it is only to negotiate the terms and conditions of a temporary truce between the two of us. Such things are few and far between. The last time we met in person was… well, not a terribly good occasion, let's say."
Jaune knows for a fact that the two of them have battled one another to a standstill more times than many of them have fought Grimm, so for Ozma to say that it had been 'not a terribly good occasion' likely means it had been heinously terrible.
Jaune also really, really wants to ask just what it is that had been so terrible, then, but he decides not to.
…
Luckily for him, Nora has far less self-control.
"So, what happened back then?" His pink teammate asks.
Ozma actually breaths out a little laugh, even if it is dampened somewhat by a shake of his head. "Ms. Valkyrie, I say this in the fondest way; you could perhaps learn a little tact."
"Er… sorry?"
"It's fine." Ozma says, smiling despite a situation he must not have wanted to be involved with. "If Salem does not mind me sharing, then I will share it."
"Go ahead," The eldritch woman waves her hand in permission. "It's of no concern to me what they know. Trust me when I say it is more than you expect."
"I will attempt not to let that trouble me." Ozma says, glancing towards Cinder out of the corner of his eye. "So, where to begin… I suppose I should say that oftentimes, during eras of peace and prosperity in Remnant, Salem is either absent – usually taking a century or two to sleep – or playing a much longer game. I myself have a tendency to do the same on occasion, putting a family of people I know I can trust, for instance, in power as the head of a Kingdom. I did this with the Arc family, actually, many generations ago," Ozma states, turning towards Jaune. "It is a part of the reason I accepted you into Beacon, despite you lacking some of the skills I would normally seek in our applicants."
"Huh…" Jaune hums, before feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Er… you knew my transcripts were fake?"
"Oh, Mr. Arc, our admissions team is a little bit more experienced with such things than you might think." He smiles knowingly, and Jaune grimaces. "Despite that, however, I allowed you into my school, and I have not regretted it for a second. You proved an able leader, and… well, it seems such has not ceased in my absence."
He looks towards each of Jaune's teammates, who all nod or wave back. All but Cinder, Mercury, and Emerald, who had, last Ozma had known, been enemies of Vale.
There's a bit of bad blood between them all that Jaune can't really blame Ozma for.
"Ah, but we were talking about mine and Salem's last correspondence, no?" Ozma clears his throat. "Right, right. Every once in a while, one of us will get a definite upper hand over the other, or perhaps one or us wishes to take time off without the other instantly making a move to try and end the world, or to save it, or vice versa. Thusly, we call a meeting. Usually, it's on neutral ground, someplace far off in the wilderness. But when Salem has the upper hand, she usually calls me here, to Evernight. I believe she does such just to lord her power over me."
Salem herself does not comment on that, nor does she deny it.
Jaune understands that such is probably true, then.
"Regardless, the last time she called me was just after a… well, let's say a mistake on my part. I had backed the wrong man in a civil dispute. He turned out to be a less than reputable person, and his armies began to turn on the very world. I… could not handle such on my own. I also knew that were this man to concur the entire world as he made to, he would likely set human society and culture – things that I consider positive in the long run – back by potentially hundreds of years."
"Are you… talking about the King of the Golden Mountain?" Pyrrha asks, and as the others turn to her, not quite as versed in history, Pyrrha explains, "There was a king of Mistral a few thousand years ago who tried to concur the world. They say that he would line his enemies up in a row and cleave their heads off with a single strike of his blade. I thought it was just a fairytale, that part, but…"
"It was his semblance." Ozma states, sounding tired all of a sudden. "He could elongate any weapon to a near endless degree, without increasing its weight at all. That's… not important, however. In truth, I knew that if I assassinated the man myself, or made a move to try and raise a rebellion, I could be imprisoned, tortured, and possibly held against my will while the King himself did whatever he felt to with the world. And even if I succeeded in removing him, those beneath him were zealots who believed in his mission; they'd have simply continued along with his plan in his absence. So… I went to Salem."
Jaune feels like he knows where this is going, even if he's not sure how this makes him feel.
"And you… asked for Salem to help you kill him?"
"I did." Ozma admits, and a number of their group suddenly seem rather uncomfortable. "Salem agreed to do so. I thought that I might be able to confide in her; trust her to help me with this. This man was evil, after all. The purest kind. One who wanted power for powers sake. Riches for riches sake. To claim the whole world in between his fists for no reason other than to hold it. And Salem, while misguided, and nihilistic, was not evil. Or… so I thought."
"You were a fool." Salem says from her throne at the head of the table, and Ozma just laughs.
But it is a sad, pathetic thing. Filled with loathing of both himself and of Salem.
"A fool to trust you? Yes. I was."
Jaune almost winces, such is the weight of sorrow in those words.
"Salem… helped me, for a time. And yet, the moment the tyrants own head was cleaved from his shoulders, she turned upon me. She took control of the man's armies, locked me in the deepest dungeon she could find, and tried to complete that which the King of the Golden Mountain had tried to do."
Jaune doesn't say anything, just looks over at Salem.
Her expression is unreadable, which Jaune considers a first. He thinks himself pretty good at reading the emotions in other people, but in this particular moment… he cannot tell what she is thinking.
"She captured the Relic of Creation, and of Knowledge. She narrowly failed to get Destruction as well. Had she… the world would have ended. I was only barely fast enough to take it for myself, and to… unleash its power with reckless abandon. I could not discriminate to save Remnant. I simply… destroyed."
"That's… so the Great Culling that's normally attributed to the King of the Golden Mountain," Pyrrha speaks, sounding uncertain. "Was that actually…?"
"It was." Ozma answers quietly. "It was the two of us. Our war."
Ozma and Salem stare at each other. That eye contact lasts at least five seconds, before, eventually, Ozma looks away, sighing.
"Well, suffice it to say that we have not met in a while. Things have been rather harsh between us ever since."
Salem says nothing. No one, in fact, says a thing. The entire room, all fourteen of them, are entirely still and silent.
"Do you expect me to apologize, Ozma?"
"Perhaps once I might've." The man answers with the voice of a boy. "But no. Now I expect very little from you at all."
Jaune can't really bare to hear this much longer. It feels like the two could come to blows at any moment, and given that Jaune himself had done quite well at riling up Salem the previous day, he didn't really want to give the woman anymore ammo to fuel her rage.
"But perhaps we should move on to more relevant topics?" Ozma rather pointedly changes the topic of conversation, and no one seems to have any issue with that. "You called me here because you said you had something that might somehow relate to breaking our curses. I would ask you what that means."
They spend the next thirty or so minutes explaining everything that they know to Ozma. Over the course of that time, the man is almost entirely silent, absorbing the information with evident surprise, but not interjecting.
"So, because of that," Jaune finishes, "We believe that the God of Light seeks to use the Silver-Eyed Warriors to help him kill the only being in existence that stands equal to him."
Ozma's frown is deep, etched onto his face like it had been carved into stone.
"I must confess that I'd never suspected as such. I asked questions about the motivations behind the God of Light and Darkness, but the spirit within the Relic of Knowledge never had much to say beyond what they told us in the beginning; that Salem was to be punished for her crime of trying to upset the balance, and I was part and parcel of that."
Jaune looks over to Salem and sees her frowning.
Ozma continues.
"I asked many questions of the spirit over the course of millennia, but nothing I asked ever gave me this impression. I never did ask why the Silver-Eyed warriors came to be, but I suppose I simply thought it an anomaly. Something that the God of Light did by mistake. But… perhaps we can rectify that lack of knowledge now."
Ozma turns towards Jaune, then.
"You have the Relic of Knowledge, do you not?"
"Uh… Yes, we have it, but not on us. Raven has it."
"You were wise not to bring it here." Ozma speaks. "Can you bring it to me? I will ask it whether or not what you speak of is true."
"That… it can do that?"
"I suppose no one was around to actually explain what the Relic of Knowledge does, then." Ozma says with a quiet nod. "Nor does Salem herself know the password to unlock it.
Salem glares at Ozma, which feels a bit weird given that Ozma is currently inhabiting the body of a fifteen-year-old boy.
"Yes, you have somehow managed to keep that hidden from me for over a hundred thousand years."
Ozma smiles at his ex-wife, which causes Jaune to grimace somewhat.
"I try, dear."
The magic in the room fluctuates wildly, and Jaune decides to interject with an, "I-I'll get Raven to bring the Relic!"
"A good idea, Mr. Arc." Ozma states, looking calm and composed despite the way that Salem's hand is curling into a fist, and the room feels like its vibrating.
It takes them around thirty or so minutes for Raven to actually arrive after Qrow contacts her. It's probably their fault for forgetting to bring a soulmate of someone who'd stayed behind, but luckily, they get there fairly quickly via portal once they've been contacted.
Fairly quickly meaning roughly five or so seconds in this case.
Raven doesn't actually step through, she simply holds the lamp out towards Jaune, and he takes it and hands it to Ozma.
"Thank you, Mr. Arc. And to you as well, Ms. Branwen." Ozma says, which goes ignored by Raven as she closes the portal behind her, before turning towards Salem. "I'd whisper the password to try and conceal it from you, but I fear you would likely be able to figure it out regardless with some effort. But given I've no other options, It seems today you'll finally learn the password for the lamp, then."
"It seems so."
"Hm. Well," Ozma clears his throat. "Jinn."
Suddenly, Jaune can't help but feel like the magic surrounding them just… stops. An entirely new variant, that of blue and gold erupts from out of the lamp, and gradually forms into the shape of a giant, naked woman.
She's pretty, Jaune thinks, in a sort of detached way. Mostly because he's really, really confused about why there's a giant blue naked lady coming out of a lamp.
She is magic in its purest form; that Jaune can tell. Other than that, however, he is entirely drawing a blank.
"There are two questions left in this era. Ah, Ozma, it's been quite a–" The woman – Jinn, Jaune imagines – peers off towards Salem, squints her eyes, and then says, with her tone dripping venom "You."
"I've never seen you before." Salem speaks, crossing her hands in front of her face. "Yet you seem to have some less than flattering opinions of me."
"I have been told more than enough about you to formulate an opinion. Trust me."
Salem pushes out a breath of laughter.
"So, it seems."
"And as for you, Ozma," Jinn turns back around. "I assume you have not called upon me to ask about Salem's current plans, given she's within the room?"
"You assume correctly, Jinn."
"Very well. What is it you wish to know, old friend?"
"Uhm, do you mind if we ask a question first, sir?" Jaune asks, stepping forward. "We actually have a bit of godly assistance, potentially?"
"…I'm going to choose not to question you on that right now, though trust me when I say that I will come for such answers later." Ozma states. "For now… She has two questions, so… go ahead."
He nods, and steps up towards Jinn. "So, uh… how specific should I– wait, that's not a question, is it? Oh crap, I keep–"
"Calm." Jinn says with a laugh. "I know what is and is not your question. I am allowed to explain the rules of my knowledge to any who ask without spending a question, and I will give you as much information about your current question as I possibly can."
Jaune nods his head.
"Then… What spell was cast upon Salem by the brother gods to make her immortal?"
Jaune watches out of the corner of his eye as both Salem and Ozma's eyes go wide. There's a brief moment, there, where Jaune detects the faintest bit of hope in their eyes, that's almost instantly dashed when Jinn frowns, and then says…
"I cannot tell you."
Jaune can't quite help the way he lets out a, "What?"
"It is quite simply, really." Jinn says, sighing as she shakes her head. "I was not given liberty to hand out knowledge that the brother gods did not want me to. I know the spell that was cast upon Salem, but theoretically, given quite a long time – which is not an issue given Salem's immortality – even a human with magical capabilities could learn to counter it if they knew the initial hex. Thusly, the brother gods forbid me from giving Salem an easy out. I cannot answer that question."
"An easy out…" Ozma scoffs, but Jaune can tell that he's raging beneath the surface, his body close to shaking with fury. "Right. Of course. I suppose that is how they would see it."
Salem is much less subtle with the way she grinds her teeth together.
"So, they doom me to an eternity on this rock, and for what!? For nothing!?"
"I believe they once intended for you to repent for your sins, to use the relics to call them back once you had done so. But… that was one hundred and thirty-eight thousand years ago. I am afraid that the Gods have long since abandoned Remnant as anything but a failed experiment."
Jaune can't quite help the way his spirit falls at hearing that.
"W-What?"
"You know… of the gods?" Ozma asks, looking up at Jinn. "As they currently are?"
"That… would be a question I cannot answer. What I have told you freely is all I am at liberty to give." Jinn states, looking apologetic. "All I can say is that they are not here. Not present. And that they do not care to be. I am sorry. Truly. Were that I could give you something more."
Ozma shakes his head. "No… thank you, Jinn. You've done more than enough on that front. Then… would you be able to answer as to the God of Light's intentions with the Silver-Eyed Warriors?"
Jinn winces. "I cannot."
Jaune gets the feeling this is going to be a reoccurring theme.
"Can you give us anything regarding that particular event?" Ozma asks, sounding increasingly desperate. "Why did the God of Light create the Silver-Eyed Warriors? Why are they here on Remnant? What was the God of Light's plan!?"
"I cannot answer anything related to the brother gods." Jinn cuts Ozma off, sounding repentant. "I am… closer to a machine than a living being, Ozma. I cannot disobey my programming, no matter how much I wish I could."
Ozma looks appalled. "Do not… do not say as such, Jinn. You have been an ally to me for countless millennia. You are no machine. I know that more than anyone."
Jinn smiles melancholically, before her face grows just the smallest bit warmer, the smallest bit happier.
"I can't give you the purpose that the God of Light gave to the Silver-Eyed Warriors. That is beyond my ability. But…"
Jinn looks towards him, of all people. Towards Jaune, the veritable nobody in the room.
And she's smiling like she knows something he doesn't.
"I may just be able to answer what the first Silver-Eyed Warriors thought their mission was."
End Chapter 46
Alright, that's that!
Next chapter; the vision that Jinn shows our heroes, and some new information regarding, well, everything.
Also, if Who We Used to Be doesn't get posted today, then it absolutely will be getting posted next week. For sure this time.
See you all then!