I, Jaune: Or, The Context-Insensitive Semblance

by Eric d'Orleans

Jaune's new team Gaslights, Gatekeeps, and Girlbosses its way from one mental health crisis to another. A story about self-improvement, failing to live up to your own expectations, cute girls suffering emotionally, and learning how Blake somehow goes from Bland to Best Girl. The ride only stops in case of emergency, and crippling trauma is NOT an emergency!

56. Volume 5, Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Mother is the Name for God on the Lips & Hearts of Little Children

"…"

— 35 —

It was LaChance's other eye that made Colonel Kornilov stare into his wine and swallow. The Colonel knew that of the two men in the lord's office, he alone could drown himself in that vice. LaChance's champagne glass was filled with colored grape juice. It wasn't a fact the Monster of Montluçon cared to advertise. Kornilov knew it because someone had warned him of the terribly effeminate way the man avoided all alcohol, attempting to dissuade him from meeting with such a disgusting creature as a landed Valais aristocrat. Every servant carrying wine in this household always had a glass with a subtle scratch or imperfection to mark it for LaChance's taste.

And at first, a younger Lieutenant-Colonel Kornilov thought he'd been a fool to accept LaChance's invitation to meet. Here was this slender, well-groomed Valais highborn with soft hands, nearly bloodless lips, and a queer insistence on maintaining his local accent instead of the Valean Standard. He'd thought the man was just some prettyboy with an interest in the violent macabre. Many of these softer cosmopolite types often liked to pretend like they were of the warriors stock their forefather descended from, playing with pistols and swords as if they'd ever use the things.

Then again, Kornilov himself had habits and peculiarities many thought unbecoming of a man. Mostly personal dietary beliefs. Kornilov didn't eat meat. He had a moral objection to the drawn-out cruelty of industrial meat farming. Cruelty belonged on an axis with expediency. You are cruel to be quick, cruel to be kind. A conflict can be made quick through sheer brutality, which was infinitely more merciful than a long, drawn out affair of suffering and tears. Torture a man now by any means necessary to get the crucial information quickly. You save more lives by being fast. It was a basic calculation, the only true kindness a soldier was capable of in war. And so, if Kornilov had a few peculiar beliefs himself, perhaps he could forgive LaChance his own. It's why he was willing to meet the man.

When they were alone in his office, Kornilov was tense, fighting back the urge to go for his pistol. He expected this prettyboy to try to seduce him. The big city folk might think nothing of homosexuals, but in Graad where Kornilov hailed the men were still men and the women likewise: men owned war and horses, and the women owned the land. 'Voting' was emasculating behavior for any real man. There was a reason conscription treaties between Damecrown and her subjects specified men for the military, not women. It was a shameful thing, what Valeans extolled as virtuous. It was part of the reason the Colonel never wanted through the pomœrium of Vale, even if it was legal for a man in uniform.

Then the young Valais aristocrat pulled off his leather strap of an eyepatch. The smiling eye on his right, and the grotesquely complementing bloodeye on the left now revealed. The whites of the eye had been beaten and bloodied into a permanent, disgusting bruise, the iris lost in a black sea. Not blind, but sharper. With both his eyes, LaChance had offered Kornilov a deal: he would ensure his unit received the latest arms and equipment, and free, city-sponsored reign of the faunus whorehouse of Montluçon—the so-called "bunny ranches" or "doehouses"— if only the Lieutenant-Colonel would permanently settle a land dispute over rich mining regions in the hinterlands in the favor of House LaChance. Even junior officers in the Royal Army had levels of operational freedom and leeway that'd make an Atlesian general jealous. And so Kornilov's battalion had shattered the spine of an upstart hinterland mayor attempting to secede and grant socialist freedoms to his workers, and delivered the land to the Monster of Montluçon.

Kornilov would never be free from LaChance and his Passionariyy clique, and would never again be undersupplied or without allies in Damecrown's houses of Parliament.

Now, years later, the full-bird Colonel Kornilov watched Kieran LaChance slowly reach up and remove the eyepatch again, and wished he had his staff officers with him for support.

"I take it that means the children have been pushed towards the shadowgate," Kornilov said, feeling oddly disgusted with himself.

LaChance smiled that smile, that expression both impossibly real and intrinsically fake. LaChance often said he was intimidated by Kornilov's aesthetic, the way he was able to smile without his eyes. It was something Kornilov had worked his life to get right. The worst part was, Kornilov knew the lord's reaction was both truth and lie in equal measure. So much of the Lord of Montluçon was a paradox like that; LaChance could absolutely feel intimidated or worried, but only because he allowed himself to feel that way.

Kornilov might be dull and deadened from years of combat. But LaChance was dull and deadened because he could feel anything he wanted. He could lie so thoroughly even to himself that he believed it, even lying about his feelings. Such that he genuinely felt what he lied about in order to present the correct mindset, the correct actions, and better control the outcome.

But the Colonel knew that the man felt nothing. Absolutely nothing he didn't choose. Years of working with him shoulder-to-shoulder had taught him that. Much like the years had forced him to learn he never wanted to see the bloodeye. The reason predators have two eyes on the front is for depth perception, for accurate target acquisition. To find and kill prey.

Said LaChance, "Read for yourself, Colonel." He tossed the scroll over the desk.

Kornilov took the communique. It was from LaChance's pet Huntress, herself a faunus he suspected was somehow associated with the White Fang. The children, Teams CFVY and BASS, had been pushed into the oldest parts of the tunnels, where they knew Team CCHS had gone and failed. The professionals had failed because they were too old, too set in their ways, and not heavily armed enough. Huntsmen were beyond the abilities of mere men, but even they had tiers. LaChance had, somehow, swung politics to get the best of the current crop of children from Beacon Academy. They were kids who, in the future, would be one of those legendary teams that came once in a generation, like the legends of Team STRQ.

He read the last line and paused. "They will either succeed or die. The blood's on your hands, boss."

The Colonel looked up at LaChance. "You're really okay with them dying?"

"It's always a tragedy to lose some promising stars," LaChance said, with that kind of genuine remorse only he could muster, "but if they're as good as Headmaster Ozpin says, that won't be a problem. They needed a kick in the ass to get back on course. Should a few of them die, well, let's hope it's just their faunus. Acceptable risks for child warriors, wouldn't you agree?"

Ozpin. It was just another name to Colonel Kornilov. He had never met the man, merely heard stories. The academic who had his fingers on the levers of political power, undeclared interests and influence. The colonel didn't care for men who trained Huntsmen. They were a fancy, and unreasonably destructive, waste of resources. For the price of training a Huntsman team, Kornilov could outfit and supply an entire company. And having influence over that many dangerous children entering the world of violence gave cretins like Ozpin their ability to scare politicians. What would happen if those dangerous youths were educated with equally dangerous political ideas? The Army wasn't allowed in the city except in cases of extreme unrest. Huntsmen were. It created a certain power and balance between average people and those superhuman freaks with their terribly mercenary allegiances.

But it still didn't change the fact that children were children. Which alone didn't alter the situation at hand. All he could hope was to be quick and merciful.

Kornilov made to stand. "I'll ensure my men are sober and treated from their time in the doehouses. Do you have the names?"

LaChance pulled out a PDA from his desk and held it out, but didn't move to get closer. Kornilov had to look at the man in his smiling- and bloodeye both as he walked up to take the device. When he pulled away, LaChance' didn't let go. And he had to look up into those eyes again, confused.

"You're starting to doubt," LaChance said. "I figured you of all people would know the value of sacrifice, soldier."

With a flare of disgust, Colonel Kornilov tugged the PDA free. It was a list of names and hotels within the city. MP Arbuckle Thurston, RM 304 Pavot Rouge. MP Yves Guichaoua, RM 601, Maison du Carnot. Lord Aloysius Armstrong, RM 621, Pavot Rouge. Lady Certsya Illyanovna, RM 327, Ville du Cap. And so forth. You could often tell who was with the Tories and who was a politician with the Whites, with His Majesty's Most Loyal Opposition. The socialists were often of the mainland Valais-Graadian stock. Notably missing, though not for lack of trying, were the twin Sokolov brothers who ran the Union-Labor party. In some context, just a list of notable political guests here to attend the Midwinter Gala. But in a truthful context?

"You know as well as I do that these are the cowards and traitors holding back this old kingdom," LaChance said, adjusting the collar of his suit. "The Great Trial is coming. Atlas is out there. Only we have the honnêteté to admit it to ourselves. Vale is falling apart, and the blind men of our namesake city bathe in abject decadence, ignorant of what stirs in the North, of what hungers for flesh on the frontier. No different from the pre-war salons and their salonnières who bred the Revolution and led us to ruin."

"I know," Kornilov said, pocketing the PDA. He let out a breath. "I'm as guilty as you for helping compile these."

"If not us, the monsters will eventually," LaChance said, his smiling eye stabbing into the Colonel's soul. "We are a kingdom without a king. An outdated government that presupposes a monarch to break gridlock and balance against the elected charlatans the people choose. You saw what happened after Mountain Glenn; the government collapsed without any ability to handle the crisis. Their replacements had to make whores of themselve to Atlas and the Schnees for the support to fix their own fuck-up. The system is broken, and no one has the political wherewithal to address it without the whole bucket of crabs pulling them down. No one until us. And damn the price, but we will save this nation."

"You don't need to remind me. I'm in too deep to back out with my life and soul intact," Kornilov said, closing his eyes. "I'm airborne; leaping from moving vehicles into a bloodbath with nothing but a rifle and a grav-harness is what I'm bred for. It's what we're all trained for. Forgive me one last look at solid airship flooring before I take the plunge."

LaChance smiled again, looking out through his window to the illustrious nightscape of his city. "When I was a boy, Colonel, I had a dream that I could fly too. Come morning, come wakefulness, and my nursemaid told me I couldn't. But the answer never quite sat right with me. We have parachutes. We have grav-harnesses. We have the vaunted airship. Technology and human innovation had made up for what nature failed to invest us with. So I wonder, what if she was lying? Perhaps we can fly, all of us. How will we ever know unless we leap from some moving object into a sea of blood and teeth?" He stepped towards the window and sighed.

"You make it sound more noble than it is," Kornilov said coldly. The medals on his chest clinked soft as he moved. "This is butcher's work. A kind not seen in civilized society since Mantle killed itself in a blaze of nihilism. You'll forgive me my doubts for blaspheming against our country. No two ways around it, LaChance: this is treason."

LaChance spread in his hands in a gesture that was as much shrug as invitation. "Blasphemy? Treason? Don't make me laugh, butcher. This is all men like us know. And we're better for it, against our soft peers with their shitty, fleshy bodies. These are the last of days, dear Colonel, when the world shall be broken and remade. A new dawn for mankind shall be born from the graves and charnel pits. For blood, human blood, is power. And knowing that is what separates us from the true traitors."

He turned and made another of those flippant, flamboyant gestures of his. It struck Kornilov as off-putting, put together with the calm, even, collected way the man spoke. "Once, I had a father. As a boy, my peers spat on me for being the poorest and most destitute of an elite class. Montluçon was in financial ruin, poorly squandered by an alcoholic father whose fists are probably what eventually killed Mother. And of course, one day those fists came for me when I refused to grovel and beg for his approval and forgiveness for some imagined slight. I see those scars every time I look at myself naked, and stare at myself with both eyes. But back then, I was young, I was strong, and most importantly, I wasn't a pathetic drunkard. I strangled my father with my own hands, committing the greatest sin our gods imagine, kinslaying."

"Another of your grandiose speeches, LaChance?" Kornilov asked, grimacing. His sidearm felt heavy, belted at his side.

The Monster of Montluçon nodded, both eyes catching the moonlight. "I stood there above his corpse, with his bloated tongue, his sagging, disgusting belly. Even in death, he smelled of whiskey and cheap animal whores. I expected my own death to follow. The priests assured anyone such a fate, who did what I had. So I went into it laughing, embracing oblivion as we do tonight, old friend. I pissed on the old man's stinking corpse, and raised my eyes to the heavens, waiting for the gods to strike me down for blasphemy upon blasphemy."

Kornilov wanted to recoil. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because of a simple fact of our world I learned that night. I waited for the gods, any god, from the Lord of Grasping Waters to the Nine-Eyed King, to take umbrage and render his divine punishment unto me." He shook his head. "None did. And it was that day, assuming my imagined crown over my birthright city that I realized two things."

The Colonel thought of the names of politicians in his coat. Men of power standing in the way of the future. Creatures soon for the Wheel, not long on this rock called Remnant. If he didn't know fully to the core of his being that the Monster of Montluçon was right, he knew he'd kill the man. This was the part of the story where the doubtful soldier betrayed his cruel masters and did the right thing for once in his murderous life.

But where would that leave Colonel Kornilov? Where would it leave Sanus and the Kingdom of Vale?

In the hands of men who'd deliver his Motherland to the men of Atlas, who would rape her virgin corpse like they did to Vacuo and Mistral. That's what a world without LaChance and Kornilov would be. Without men willing to risk everything to save their homes and their beloved. Another nightmare lost to time, the latest in the endless line of failed human civilization on this accursed planet. If not by the Grimm, then by your brother man. Such was the fate of the weak, the cowardly, the prostrate prostitutes who ruled Vale.

Kornilov would never allow this.

The blood-black bruises in LaChance's eye seemed to shift in the light. "I learned that the gods are all lies. And, most sobering of all, that the Grimm are right—men are just meat."

— 36 —

Coco held onto me, and coughed through the cloud of dust. I had one hand awkwardly clutching her shirt, the other raised with my shield to protect us. It was a storm of coughs and lung-hacking, the flashlights only irregularly penetrating the cloud of debris poisoning the air like strobe lights.

Her beret leaning to one side, she looked up at me, and nearly lost a lung. "Get. Off," she groaned. "You're sitting on my lungs!"

I blew out a puff of breath, as if that could blow away the dust. Still sore from carrying the girl only the day prior, really just a couple of hours ago, I felt oddly stiff as I tried to stand. On impulse, I powered up my Aura, leaving me with a feeling like a vague nicotine hangover—tired and weary in a way I couldn't properly explain.

Coco just laid there in an awkward tangle of herself, clutching at her chest. "I think you broke something. That's what I get for trying to save you."

I looked around the cavern, now with the pronounced cave in the direction we had come from. Hesitantly, I compressed my shield back into a sheath. "I saved you."

"I tackled you to safety," she said as I offered her my hand.

Ignoring her scowl, I picked her up and said, "No. I definitely grabbed you and dragged you away before we got crushed."

"As if," she said, poking me in my armored chest. The motion made her wince for some reason, and I had to suppress the urge to grab and steady her.

I directed my flashlight towards the deeper part of the tunnel. "Headcount. Is everyone alive?"

Though it was hard to see through the debris, the voices reassured me. First Blake, then Shamrock, and then it was everyone. I let out a sigh, and wound up coughing a storm. Trying to rub my forehead of sweat just smeared dirt across my face.

"I think we were betrayed," Yatsuhashi said, standing somewhat protectively in front of Velvet.

"I told you we couldn't trust them!" Weiss said, trying to straighten out her skirt. What had once been a pristine white had become more and more brown and grayed the longer we have been down here. She looked like she had been dragged through a dust storm. Which, given our current situation, wasn't entirely inaccurate. "They were being too nice; their story didn't check out!"

Fox stood there, his hand on the smooth, wet walls of the cave. He kept wiping his fingers across it, as if trying to feel every little bump in the wall. "Then why didn't they try to kill us earlier? They had a Huntress and a lot of guns?"

Blake made a noise. One of her cat ears twitched. "Because we would have won. They're dangerous, not stupid. Eight of us versus thirty of them, and the odds are still in our favor."

Velvet raised her hand, a little hard to see over her partner. She had to lean to the side and wave, shaking her flashlight streams around. "Um, yes, hi, could we maybe focus more on the fact that we are currently trapped in a cave? It doesn't matter why they did it, but this is pretty terrifying right now, I'm not gonna lie!"

"We could dig our way out," Yatsuhashi said dubiously. "It is a lot of rock, but I think we have the fire power if we put our minds to it?"

"Who's to say that won't attract whatever ghosts are in the tunnel here?" Shamrock said, making some kind of gesture. "By the time we're halfway through the rock, we'd be nearly out of ammo and who knows what could pounce on us."

"There is some native Dust down here," Weiss said, returning the gesture to Shamrock. I watched as the two of them made hand signs at each other. I still couldn't understand what those meant or why they did it. The nearest I could tell was it had something to do with the occasional card games they played.

I looked over at Coco, who was standing there with a weird expression. From the faces she was making, I realized she was talking to Fox telepathically. I tried to bite down my annoyance. It was like half of our total team were speaking languages only they could understand.

"Are we just going to skip the panicking stage right now?" Velvet asked, running her hands through her hair. "Why is everyone so calm? We're trapped in a cave with monsters!"

I tried to rub my eyes, and just got dirt in them. My barely healed blisters sang in protest for added insult. "Velvet, please stop. I can—I can barely fucking think as it is. I don't need your input."

Yatsuhashi scowled. "Don't talk to my partner like that. It stopped being funny a long time ago."

"Oh, like the big silent giant has anything to contribute!" I snapped.

"At least I'm offering solutions!"

"We're not going to be able to dig out of here!" I said, gesturing wildly towards the cave-in. A sudden inhalation of angry breath made me cough. "Fucking—goddamn it—fuck off, lungs!"

"I think that's called karma," Velvet said, and I had a sudden urge to strangle the rabbit.

"Don't be a bitch!" Blake said.

Velvet scoffed. "Me? Like you have any legs to stand on. Nice ears by the way, cat girl."

"You're not even a real faunus!" Blake hissed. "Don't talk to me like that either."

"Holy shit, what the hell!" Coco asked, mouth agape

Yatsuhashi put himself in front of Velvet further. "Do not talk to Velvet like that!"

"Oh j'a-freakin'-ccuse," Velvet said to Blake with a sneer. "At least I don't pretend or hide what I am!"

"As if you'd understand!"

"Oh, oh!" Velvet laughed. "All I understand is a girl whose life is all ears pretending like she cares about a little bullied faunus girl but only when she's all alone then there's no one around to judge her. Why don't you burn the bow and come out of the closet for real this time, huh?"

Shrinking in on themselves, Shamrock said, "Guys."

Coco held up her hands. "Good gods, this is a shitshow!"

Yatsuhashi made eyes at Fox. "Get out of my head. You're not helping."

Almost meekly, Weiss said, "Could we maybe go back to finding solutions?"

"You started this conversation," Coco told her. There was a little high-pitched squeaking noise from Coco's direction, like a bat with no obvious source.

"What, me?" Weiss asked.

"If we just go blowing things up, we're probably just going to bury ourselves," Coco said. "It's bad enough we're sealed in a cave—No, no, this isn't a cave. It's becoming a goddamn tomb!"

"Your Semblance makes Dust more potent," Weiss retorted. "We can probably use that with the dust in here to blow a hole out. What, did you somehow forget that between now and nearly burning my teammate to death?"

"That was an accident!"

Yatsuhashi chimed in with a rather unhelpful, "And it was your Dust that did it."

Fox groaned. "I liked it better before the panic really hit us…"

I sat down on a boulder from the fallen cave and just kind of watched, numb to the whole thing. Just kindling a burning sense of angry frustration. With almost a sense of reluctance, I raised my hand and made the gesture. Coco gasped as XO flew from her holster into my hand. I fired straight into the ceiling, the enclosed space making the report loud enough that everyone winced in pain.

As the ringing in my ears died down, I broke the stunned silence. "We got fucked. No two ways about it. Fuck if I know why, and right now, fuck if I care. I haven't gotten nearly enough sleep to process any of this coherently. So y'all can either shut up and stop belly aching, or I can just shoot you now."

Blake blinked. "Jaune?" she asked, worry staining her voice

I compressed a sigh, running my hand down my face. "Alright, alright, sorry, too far. I'm cappin'. Don't got me the balls to shoot a friend. But right now, you're all acting like idiots. And no, I don't have any good solutions either. The only thing I can see is a wall behind me and a tunnel going further into the earth down that-a-way. I don't fancy our odds playing real life Minecraft right about now, so the only way out I see is through. If you don't like it, tough. Die mad about it."

With a slight groan of tired pain, I stood up. "Goddamn children, the lot of you. We're here until we figure out what happened to Team CCHS, find the bodies or whatever, and then find another way out. Focus on the mission. Focus on not dying. And focus on not tearing each other to shreds in a blaze of stupidity."

I shoved the revolver back into Coco's hands as I walked past her. And when I was several paces beyond anyone else in the cave, I turned around and gestured. "Y'all finna come or am I doing this by my lonesome."

Blake was the first to reply. She tilted her head at an angle, one of her cat ears cocked. "I think you're getting better at making speeches."

Despite everything, I cracked a laugh. "Felecia LeBleu had a couple of bangers in her books to crib."

Coco shook her head. "Jaune's right. We're acting like idiots. I—I don't know what else to do but go deeper. Hope we find a way out."

"We will," I said.

"How do you know that?" Weiss asked, trying to straighten out her filthy dress.

"Because I made it up, just now," I said, running a hand through my dirty, sweat-dampened hair. I needed a haircut. "That's how I know it's true. Besides, humming bitch said there were caves all over the place. Probably another way out, ghosts and demons be damned."

I would have said it was like herding cats, except the only actual cat with us had been the first to come. Blake stayed by my side as we descended. With her and Coco and Weiss coming with, that more or less settled it through the power of peer pressure, the strongest potential tool in a teenager's arsenal. It was a strange kind of feeling, both an obligation to continue to pretend like I had any idea what I was doing, and this vague sense of not caring. Except not caring was the wrong word. There was this term from overly progressive jargon that I liked, emotional labor. The work of trying to care emotionally about things until you were so drained that you couldn't even continue.

There were only so many things a person could fully invest themselves in before they just emotionally died. Intellectually they understood they should care, but the emotions didn't follow. You spent them all. Until the only thing you could do was continue on inertia, or come across as a callous piece of shit. I recalled one time in my military workshop during the pullout from Afghanistan where my co-workers had asked me my thoughts on the situation, and seemed particularly interested in the fate of the women in Afghanistan under the new Taliban government. I had said that I didn't care, which bemused my fellow military professionals. They tried to keep poking me, until I threw up my hands and told them straight up, "Did you know that the Amazon River is the largest watershed in the world? The earth beneath the river is limestone. Because it's limestone, the heavy waters often seep through the ground creating caves filled with water. In these caves are fish that have never seen the light of the sun, and have evolved away their eyes. And yet, these fish care more about the women in Afghanistan than I do. We've got fish we can actually fry in this office today, boys, so let's get to work."

There's certain battles you can choose to avoid. Not physical scuffles, but emotional investment. And there's a point of certain living cynicism where you just have to accept you have no control over certain things, and it's not even worth the time considering them enough to form an opinion. Most people don't seem to grasp that it's perfectly okay to not have any thoughts or opinions on a topic.

Right now, that was how I felt. I didn't want to deal with a bunch of arguing children. I didn't want to be a mile or more beneath the rock of a foreign planet. And I didn't even want to have to pretend to be the leader to give them something solid to rally around. The only thing I wanted to do with my miserable little life was take a nice, hot shower, and maybe just spend the day finding increasingly stupid things to laugh about with Blake and Weiss and Shamrock. Or maybe see what kind of brain dead hot take Ruby would have about my most recent adventure. The simple joys in life actually worth doing, worth pursuing. The things I did to keep my soul from the knife edge.

But people expected things for me. Consummate overachiever I liked to pretend to be, that meant I had to rise to the occasion I had no business with. After all, cute girls were watching.

And deeper and deeper we went. Sometimes the caves were just rock formations that look natural. Sometimes they look dug into. Other times, we found bits of masonry. At one point, we found a shallow pond or something fed from dripstone. The crystals of Dust in here seemed to absorb the light we brought with us and illuminated the surroundings.

I refilled my canteen, staring into the little pond. Just like the caves beneath the Amazon, there were little fish in here without eyes. I wondered how many hours I'd have to be down in this cave before I lost my eyes. It felt like a lifetime already since the cave-in. We stopped here because it was a level room with water, with one of those devices Team CCHS has placed to mark their way. So that meant we were on the trail. Oh, and because the passage branched off in a score of different directions. The occasional ceiling silk work and patch of mushroom made homes here. And rather than argue over which way to go, we all seemed to silently agree we needed a break before making the call. Which meant eventually Coco and I had to decide for us all. I hoped she'd agree with whatever I decided.

But right now, I was thirsty. And tired. And so fucking dirty. The bath I had only hours ago already seemed in vain, with the filth and dust and sweat

"How are you feeling?" Blake said, crouching down beside me.

I nearly jumped. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

She turned her head, making a one-handed shrug towards the little section of cave we had all stopped in. Velvet was standing by one wall, taking a picture of the odd, somewhat oily looking black stone. It was beside a little technological box Team CCHS must have left down here to mark their trail. There was actually a lot of stuff down here. This was one of the bigger pockets of air in the cavern we had found. The more masonry, the more we found Dust crystals, thus the prevalence in this little watering hole.

"I'm not sure I can sneak up on anyone down here," she said softly. "That's not even any elbow room."

I sat down, drinking from my canteen. The water tasted like nothing in particular. Ruby was right; mommy milker chemicals made water more delicious. I just kind of stared in silence at Blake and drank.

Blake gave me the smallest of grimaces. "What's wrong? Is it something on my face?"

"Yeah," I said in a daze, pouring water into a cupped hand. "Let me get it for you."

"No, no!" she said, falling onto her ass as I splashed the water into her face. It mixed with the dirt on her scalp and rolled down her cheeks in dirty little rivulets. "I hate you so much," she laughed, wiping it away.

"Better me than Velvet," I said mildly, refilling the canteen again.

Her expression soured, the long lines of the flashlight casting shadows over her face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I scooted myself around until I was facing away from the water, towards the rest of the teams. Almost everybody was leaning against a wall or sitting down. Weiss had her face in her hands. Coco was in a darker corner, her back to us all and her beret in her hands as she fidgeted with it. Yatsuhashi was chatting in a low voice with his partner about something or other. When Shamrock saw me looking, they flashed me a thumbs down and stuck their tongue out at me. Jerk.

"I mean," I said, and stopped. Sighed. "I don't know what I mean. I almost want to say she has a point, but I know if I say that, you'll get pissed."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Is this the part where you say something trite and reassuring about how I shouldn't hide who I am?"

I gave her a look. "Well, when you put it like that, you take all the wind out of my sails," I said passively, still having trouble working myself up to any kind of particular emotional state. "I personally think all women should wear the hijab or a bonnet to hide their hair from us men to prevent lustful thoughts. Your uncovered ears are cute enough to drive a man mad. Shame on you."

Blake's eyes fluttered. "Oh! I, uh. I think I'm offended? You, uh. Huh!" She looked away from me. "It's really hard to tell when you're screwing with me and when you're trying to be nice."

"I couch everything I say under several layers of irony," I said, watching Coco and her beret. "It's pretty much impossible to decipher my actual feelings on anything."

She tucked her hair back. "So, you don't like my ears?"

"Blake Belladonna," I said scathingly, "are you fishing for a compliment?"

With a frustrated sigh, she stood up. "Y'know what? Forget I asked. It's stupid. I'm gonna go, I don't know—oh!"

I grabbed her hand and pulled her back down beside me. "Don't leave. You're my emotional support Blake. I don't know what I'd do without you."

The annoyed look on her face melted off. She sighed again, shaking her head. We sat there together, leaning our shoulders against the other, watching the dirty, exhausted remains of our teams.

"I think I know what I'd do without you," Blake said at length.

"Have an uncomplicated life filled with fun and adventure?" I asked.

She snerked. "Nah. Bored. I think I'd be bored."

I nodded. "Blake would be bland. How awful."

"I think I like it better this way." She gestured at nothing. "Sure, we're probably doomed and going to die like a thousand miles beneath the ground, but, y'know. Take the good with the bad."

"I still say it's worth it," I said. "I like us getting along. I like it when you like me. I still sometimes imagine what it'd be like if, I don't know, we didn't."

She was quiet for a moment. "I think you'd be dead."

I gave her a so-so gesture. "I'm sure I would have survived the suicide attempt. If not here, then somewhere else, somehow else."

Blake shook her head. "No, I mean, your Aura. That's still my fault. And without it—" She blew air through her lips. "Gosh, how come every conversation with you is a downer? Lighten up, buttercup."

I pushed away against her shoulder. "Well excuse me, princess. I thought we were having a moment."

She stuck out her tongue. "Make the moment less sad. I'm trying to stay optimistic. I'm already half dead from exhaustion. I rely on you for entertainment." Blake put her nose up.

"Spoiled brat."

Blake faked an offended scoff, putting her hand to her chest. "How dare you! Daddy always did say I was his little princess."

"I'm going to ruin his marriage by revealing to your mom that he's gay," I said.

"Boy," she said, with what I almost imagined was a sultry, suggestive edge, "you better be careful with that. The last boy to call my dad gay got his dick sucked."

We just stared into each other's eyes for a long, silent moment. Before we both broke out laughing.

"Are you two having fun?" Weiss called out.

"No, we're going insane together," Blake said, rubbing her hands. "Do you want to join us? It's pretty boring being normal."

"That's because normal knows when to stop. Normal knows when to pull out!" I said.

Coco fixed her beret back onto her head. "You, stop and pull out? Boy, I wouldn't trust you to pull a turkey out of an oven."

Weiss frowned. "I can make a turkey. Still trying to figure out how gravy works, though."

Blake and I exchanged glances. I snickered out a, "Gravy baby."

We laughed again and I honestly couldn't even tell you why it was funny.

Fox, who had been having a quiet conversation with Shamrock, suddenly turned around in my direction and made a face. "Hey, do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" I asked, following his eyes. A moment later it occurred to me that was probably pointless, given he was blind. Until I saw the little spark of light fly from one of the dust crystals on the cave wall above the pond. It was nothing more than a little mote of golden light, almost ponderous, like it were floating on some invisible breeze.

A quick glance back at the boy and I realized he was staring at the light. The blisters under my bandages started to itch.

"You can see that?" I asked.

Fox continued to stare, as though he didn't know what he was comprehending. A moment later and the little glowing light flew above me and vanished into the ceiling. It left a little spot in my vision, a tiny flash of something like an overager blood cell through the iris.

"First your Aura, and now weird little ghost lights," Fox said, shaking his head. "Everything about this place is weird and I don't like it."

I realized I was scratching at my blisters only when the bandages started to get wet. I had probably popped one of them or something. Disgusting. I hissed in sudden annoyance and pain. Blake side-eyed me, saying nothing. I met her amber eyes and for a moment scowled. Before I thought better of it and looked away.

"Hey, uh, Blake, do you have any more gauze? Gross wound stuff is happening."

She gave me a look I almost thought was smug. "Oh, now you want my help?"

"Do you want me to beg?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

Blake pretended to consider the offer.

But before she could say anything, Velvet called out, "Uh, hey, guys? There's something weird I think you should see."

— 37 —

If Velvet Scarlatina had any say in the matter—she never did, but let's pretend—she never would have allowed Coco to bring along Team BASS. As usual, it had been Coco making the executive call all on her own for her own indeterminable reasons. For one, BASS was a terrible colour. Was it a fish or a musical reference? For another, they were all just kind of… dicks.

It was like being invited to a house party of a friend of a friend. Coco's friend, Jaune. And while your friend insisted that their friend was totally cool and any friend of theirs would be a friend of yours without problem, once you got there, you learned the truth. The other person was arrogant, narcissistic, and their jokes were just hilariously unfunny. The entire experience left you feeling like you just didn't belong in the most awkward sense, and reevaluating your relationship with your friend who invited you in the first place.

Because despite everything Coco insisted before the mission, Team BASS was not cool. Shamrock had been a quiet loner who just kept posing weird questions and, when they were finally alone, was just mean-spirited. Velvet tried to make friends, and Shamrock had gotten snappy. Weiss, well, she was a Schnee. And she had blamed Coco for her own mistake. Blake was just a complete bitch, no two ways about it. Bad enough that even Velvet's own teammates had to step in because they thought they had to protect her, an experience as frustrating as it was humiliating. She'd somehow come across as more racist than the Schnee. And Jaune only seemed interested in talking to Coco and his partner, Blake. His only identifying character trait was that he seemed to like working out like a brain dead meat-head. Now, sure, he was so cut they probably had to send him to Beacon in three separate packages, but that didn't excuse him from the way he called her a stupid bitch when, from her point of view, she just saw him shoot her best friend in the face.

But Velvet was better than that. They were a bunch of annoying, cliquish freshmen with more than a couple of shoulder chips between them. But the moment Velvet ever just gave up on somebody like that was the moment she wasn't even Velvet. She could stand up for herself without needing to be saved. She could handle things on her own just fine. And more importantly, she was willing to try and pretend to give people second chances in the hopes that maybe they saw the error in their ways or something. It's why you never met bullying or sexual harassment with violence. All that did was encourage people to double down.

It didn't mean she had to play nice with Blake, exactly. Uppity pureblood. But for the sake of the mission, she could still try to be civil. She reminded herself that when Fox had a hole in his neck, Blake had been the one to step up and patch the boy together. Velvet had to believe that counted for something.

And so, she wasn't terribly offended by the way Blake was ignoring her to wrap her partner's arm in fresh gauze when Velvet tried to get them all together to show them something. That wasn't rude at all.

She had to ignore that. Like she had to ignore that weird itching feeling she had only moments ago for whatever reason.

Instead, she focused on the seven people broadly arranged around her. Her partner, Yatsuhashi, was carrying her camera and some miscellaneous equipment on her behalf.

"And I still think it's just rock," he said dubiously.

She still remembered the first time they had met during Initiation. He was Mistrali; his people hated hers. She had tried staring aggressively at the ground to prevent any accusations that she'd actually seen him and made eye contact. Didn't want to be partners with one of his kind. And now? For lack of a better term, he may be a dummy, but he was her dummy. Someone had to be the common sense in their little duo. It gave her a sense of purpose and value.

Velvet frowned. "Don't undermine me before I begin. This is weird and interesting."

The giant of a boy awkwardly tried to rub his shoulder, and found he really couldn't do it with the stuff he was carrying. He made a couple attempts towards it, and just sort of shimmied in place.

"Did you see this stone here?" Velvet asked.

"No," Fox said dryly. "I didn't see anything. Ever."

Velvet sighed. "That joke stopped being funny like last year."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You keep saying that like it's going to stop me."

"Point taken," she said, nodding. "For the blind of us in the audience, this black stone here is masonry. It almost looks kind of oily, different from the ambient wetness of the cave or whatever."

"What's the big deal about bits of old ruin?" Coco asked. "This whole cave is filled with them. Entire tunnels of the stuff."

Velvet shook her head. "No, but see, the architecture is different. And the colour. And instead of ancient mortar, it almost looks like it was fused together. It's not like anything we've seen so far. Look, I even took pictures!" She held up her scroll, the battery extremely low. It didn't stop her from showing her photographs. She had taken some of the ruins above, including a little fountain statue, and then compared it to the wall behind her. "This is clearly artificial, but unlike anything else."

Blake finished tightening up her partner's gauze and looked up. "Since when have you been an expert in rocks?"

Velvet felt a twitching vein in her forehead. "Back in combat school, I tried out for a lot of different clubs trying to fit in somewhere. Geology, history, art. But none of the clubs really worked out. I still learned a lot."

"What kind of combat school has a geology class?" Jaune asked.

"Boring ones," Velvet said.

"With all of the photos you take, I thought you would have fit in with art class," Yatsuhashi said with a weak smile.

"Photography club is different from art club," Velvet said patiently. "Also, the guy in charge of art club was a complete creep and tried to convince me to pose for a nude art class. I almost thought he was hitting on me, before I realized that I was like, fifteen, and he was a fully grown adult."

"Oh," Yatsuhashi said.

"That's legal age in Vacuo," Fox added off-handedly.

"Because Vacuo doesn't even really have laws," Shamrock said. "An important technical difference."

Fox made a face. "I was trying to diffuse the inherent creepiness factor with an offended joke. Stop giving them context and ruining the punchline, Shamrock."

Shamrock grabbed the edges of her hat and pulled it down tight.

"I still don't get what the big deal is with the rock," Coco said.

Putting her hands together and pointing them at Coco, Velvet said, "It means the people who built the ruins outside and whoever built this wall aren't the same people!"

Jaune's jaw just kind of hung open. "You're losing me here."

Velvet ran a hand through her hair and over her rabbit ears. "That's what I was getting to. I was trying to explain why I was so interested in this wall. Examining it and everything while you all were mostly just sitting around existing. Because I think I found a hidden door!"

"I feel like you should have led with that," Fox said dryly, idly running one of his forearm blades across the other one. It made a sharp sound.

"If I did, I'd have to explain it anyway. I figured I might as well show off that I'm paying attention." She ran her fingers over the wall, feeling little grooves. "Notice how the wall is smooth, like it was just formed this way. Like the natural cave wall, except the colours are wrong. But right here, you can see a kind of archway. It's really precise. You have to feel it with your hands to really sense it. I tried pushing on it, but I'm not really sure I'm strong enough on my own."

"Then how do you know there's even a door?" Blake asked. Even though the question was innocent, Velvet couldn't help but feel like the girl was trying to insult her intelligence.

Velvet smiled with a perfectly tasteful amount of smug, pointing at her ears. "I have very good hearing. A perk of my very faunus trait. When I put my ear up to the groove, I could hear just the faintest shimmering sound from the other side. There's definitely a room on the other side of the door."

Blake's face was unreadable.

"What would be shimmering?" Jaune asked, then frowned. "Wait, isn't shimmering a visual effect? Wouldn't that be like hearing heat waves?"

"Dust, Jaune," Weiss said, tiredly gesturing to one of the crystals in the cave. "It gives off the sound especially in large quantities. Literally everyone knows this."

"I don't," he said. "And I also don't know how that proves this is a door and not just a wall someone put up for whatever reason."

"I think I felt just a little bit of give when I tried to push, so there's definitely something there," Yatsuhashi said, putting down Velvet's things. She was grateful for the backup. "I think that this is why that little marker device is here. Team CCHS put it here for a reason."

"And so I think this is the right way to go!" Velvet said, nodding eagerly. "I just need some muscle to push it. Or, failing that, an unreasonable amount of firepower to destroy it."

Weiss folded her arms. "We could use Dust and explosives?"

"Why are you such a pyromaniac?" Fox asked.

The girl in white sputtered. "I'm not—I'm just listing options! There is native Dust here and…" She fell silent, meeting Coco's eyes. Weiss looked away.

Jaune, for his part, stood up, making sure the gauze around his arms was tight. "Alright. Muscle. We reckon this is a pull door or a push door?"

Velvet blinked. "I hadn't really considered that. There's not really any visible hinges. Whatever mechanism it has is hidden or just not here. So, push?"

The boy got uncomfortably close to Velvet, running his fingers over the wall. Like she had originally when she first touched it, he pulled his hand away and examined. The black stone looked oily, but it was oddly dry compared to the rest of the cave. But he did seem to find the groove she was talking about.

"You lift?" he asked Fox.

"Why are you singling me out?" Fox asked, frowning.

Jaune thumbed over his shoulder. "The giant looks like he can lift a car. I'm afraid to ask his routine."

"I am just like this," Yatsuhashi said, grimacing slightly. Velvet wanted to scowl; she knew her partner was self-conscious about his size. It had already been a point of problem just getting through these caves. No need to rub it in like that.

With a shrug, Fox took a place beside Jaune. "Between the three of us, I think we can handle it."

In the background, Coco folded her arms, biting her lip. Usually, the girl would be one of the stronger on team CFVY. It took a lot of strength and balance and a slight burn of Aura to carry her minigun and fire it from the hip. In better times, less injured times, she probably would have been on the front lines here. But she didn't volunteer, and Velvet didn't ask.

All Velvet did was stand back and watch as the boys took position by the wall, find the correct grooves, and put their backs into pushing. They all lit up like a Long Night tree, burning Aura. Aura and strength were a funny combination. Everyone knew that with it, the natural disparity between men and women was greatly evened. Plenty of the strongest fighters in Beacon, like Coco or the freshman Pyrrha Nikos, were girls. But that didn't rule out one's natural physical capabilities. Someone who was strong and in shape would better be able to leverage those abilities with their Aura, to some degree. There was a point of working out where the only thing you were doing was focusing on body tone, a rather vain thing, Velvet thought. But the gym at school existed for a very good reason. And as all three boys managed to push what might have been several tons of stone and open the door, she was glad for it.

Jaune stood up straight and arched his back, hands on his lower spine. "Good Jesus, that hurt. Shit."

"I feel fine," Yatsuhashi said, glancing at Velvet.

She took that brief look for what it was, and was the first to enter the room beyond. Even if the muscle had opened the door, this was her discovery, and she got first dibs. Slowly, everyone else trickled in.

It wasn't the largest room, about the same size as the little cave hollow they had been resting in, if filled with a bit more Dust in raw crystalline shapes on the ceiling and wall, enough of it that its weird background shimmering sound was probably audible to people with normal ears. When the flashlights struck them, it seemed to fill them with a glowing light. Everything else in this room was artificial, with none of the signs of a cave. Fused black stone, a ceiling and floor. No little monuments or art or anything else she would have expected from Final Empire architecture.

"Oh great, stairs," Jaune groaned, shining his light towards the far end of the room. "The last thing my quads need are stairs. I want the smooth and irregular cave descent back. Weiss, don't touch that!"

Weiss froze, her hand outstretched to touch one of the Dust crystals. "What?"

"It goes kablooey," he said.

She made a face. "It's not processed. I'm just trying to figure out what it is."

"I don't know either," Velvet admitted, taking a spot next to Weiss. It was uncomfortable on a spiritual level to be this close to a Schnee. "And I know a lot about Dust."

Running a hand through her ponytail, Weiss said, "If you put our heads together, we probably know everything there is to know about Dust. But this is some kind of opaque glass orange kind of color. Maybe golden? Doesn't look like electricity Dust."

Velvet tried not to enjoy the compliment too much. But she did decide Weiss was, somehow, probably the most likable person on Team BASS. "Montluçon exports a lot of lithium and Dust. Pretty much the biggest native source of Dust in the entire kingdom not under foreign influence. Maybe the lithium and other precious metals got into the Dust?"

Weiss tapped her heel on the ground, thinking. "I've heard of minerals being found with Dust. But usually that's more or less an impurity. Something that has to be processed out before the Dust is industrially viable. Iron or carbon mixing when the Dust was formed. Local rock and mineral composition tends to affect what Dust you find. You wouldn't expect to find gravity Dust growing out of limestone, logically."

"Oh yes, obviously," Jaune muttered in the background. His flashlight flickered, and he frowned at it.

Weiss ignored him and continued thinking out loud. "Montluçon exports mostly fire and electric Dust. This looks a bit like both, and thus neither. I'm actually at a loss."

Velvet turned to her partner, about to ask for her camera, when he just handed it to her with a smile. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes," he said with a knowing look.

She took a high quality picture. Sometimes her scroll camera was fine, but she wanted something in high definition to save for later. This was interesting stuff!

As soon as the flash went off, a little mote of light escaped the crystal. She gasped softly, seeing little spots of white in her eyes. Velvet stepped back quickly as it floated to where she had just been, the scratches on her knuckles from where she had punched the skinwalker wearing her friend's face suddenly itching. The mote of light fluttered around on an invisible breeze before petering out into nothingness.

"Yeah, no, that's not normal," Weiss said, shaking her head.

"It's probably dead people," Shamrock said, pointing her light down the cave. She glanced back at her partner and made some kind of weird hand sign. "Nature's wrath is a capricious, violent resource."

"Shamrock," Weiss said, making her own left-handed finger talk back, "I don't think this is the time for philosophy or religion, no offense meant."

"Some taken," the girl said mildly.

Weiss looked back at Velvet. "Hey, can you take another picture? I want to see if it'll happen again."

Coco cleared her throat. "Not to ruin your fun science experiment, but I see stairs over there going deeper into the cave. I feel like we're just getting distracted."

Velvet blinked. "Oh, uh sorry, distracted! Right, right of course—finding Team CCHS! I'm sure actual scientists will come in after us once these caves are safe or whatever."

Jaune was standing there by the stairs with Shamrock. A moment later, Blake and Coco joined them. The stairwell was large, even, and made from more of that smooth oily stone. Velvet glanced back at the door they had come through, and wondered why team CCHS had closed it behind them. Were they trying to cover their tracks? Maybe they were being chased by Grimm and it was a defense tactic.

The boy was right about the stairs, however. Something about climbing downstairs in the darkness made the entire thing more unsettling, and more tiring. Velvet was an elevator girl. She couldn't just rush down the stairs like normally. It was just a slow, steady climb through the darkness. One step at a time. But at least her partner could fit here, somewhat. Yatsuhashi wasn't blocking the whole tunnel entirely, being able to move at a reasonable rate.

"So if the Final Empire didn't build this," Yatsuhashi asked, "who did?"

Velvet smiled at him, glad for the conversation. "I don't know, but it looks ancient. Way older than the Empire, and they're the ones who ended the bronze age. That was a very long time ago, for the record. Pretty much nothing good came from that time period. Maybe it was just whoever lived here before the Empire conquered them. A faunus ur-culture."

"A what?"

"It's a fancy way of saying the aboriginals. Autocthonic people."

He gave her a flat look. "You've lost me again."

"The people who were here first, who sprang from the ground for all archaeological intents and purposes, " she said.

"Oh." He paused, looking around. There wasn't much to see in this downward slope but stairs and the occasional Dust crystal that lit up when they passed. "Faunus were here first?"

"It's a somewhat outdated notion," Weiss said carefully. "No one can really agree where humans or faunus exactly came from, or who came first. Sort of a changeling and the egg problem. And it's just as much a point of discussion where the first states emerged. I'm a big believer in the meadowfolk hypothesis. Probably the Vallée de l'Espérance, Mistrali floodplain, or the Vacuan Guenete."

"You're kind of killing all the romance about the theories," Velvet said. "But lots of real faunus think at least some of us were in places like Vale before the humans."

That got Blake's attention. Pursing her lips to the side, she said, "It's a bit of a moot point, isn't it? Humans and faunus are everywhere. Who cares where we came from?"

"What did you mean by 'some of us'?" Jaune asked, giving his partner a little nudge on the shoulder.

"Some faunus," Velvet said. "Before we were 'faunus'."

"What, like, your ancestral creature progenitors or… what does that even mean?"

Blake rolled her eyes at the boy. "Faunus, Jaune. The word itself. Most of us real faunus only accepted the word maybe a century ago. Before that, most of us identified with our animal trait and didn't see each other as the same species. Coming to see ourselves as part of one people is what let us come together for civil rights." She made an uncomfortable noise. "It's not perfect. A lot of tribes in the Menagerie jungle still don't see themselves as 'faunus'."

"The word used to be a slur, but it's better than the even worse 'beastfolk' before it," Velvet said. "My point is, maybe my ancestors built this place. Before the humans showed up and built on top of us. Drove us off our land. Classic stuff, really."

"A lot of places have similar myths," Blake said. "My dad used to think everyone lived in harmony until a faunus tribe without animal traits arrived one day from the east, chasing the setting moon. And they didn't stop chasing it until they had covered the entire globe."

"Humans aren't faunus, though," Weiss said. "We're inherently different." The girl paused and realized she had said something wrong. "I mean, not very different. I know we can still have kids together. And we all bleed red, I think. But, I mean, humans and faunus are different. Not that there is anything wrong or bad about that. But you can see in the dark and I can't."

"I can't see in the dark," Velvet said.

"I can't either," Fox supplied helpfully, and was promptly ignored.

"I think she's right," Shamrock said, watching a little mote of light hover off a Dust crystal and vanish. She rubbed her eyes. "Maybe you just think it's a myth or religion, but I think a priest once told me a story. He said that when humans first arrived in la Vale, they were escaping Patch and the Final Empire. Their chief encountered tribes of different peoples with different animal traits. They fought for the land, until the gods gave him a suggestion for how he could win and ensure his people would dominate the bountiful land. He came to the most powerful king in the region, and offered a marriage between himself and the king's daughter, a bunny girl. They accepted and lived in peace. But on their wedding night, the chief instead tied his new bride down and sacrificed her alive to the gods."

Velvet put her hand over her mouth. "That's absolutely horrible. Why would anyone tell that story?"

Shamrock hefted her halberd over her shoulder. "Because it conveys a point. Lots of cultures abhor human sacrifice."

Weiss nodded. "Atlas really hates it. Mantle actually went to war with a couple of tribes in the hinterlands and destroyed them based on the rumor that they practiced human sacrifice."

Shamrock shrugged. "But the thing is, faunus aren't technically considered human sacrifice. You have all the theological power of sacrificing humans, without the blasphemy, because they're considered animals by the gods."

"I swear to God, if you weren't faunus, I would have slapped you by now," Velvet said. "Everyone just keeps throwing that word around like it's meaningless." She shook her head. "Your religion sounds evil. Cultural relativity and all, sure, but they just sound cruel. Why would anybody want to worship gods who say that?"

"They're gods; that's the point of their existence," Shamrock said, as if it were nothing. "What are you? Not Vaudou, for sure. What do you believe?"

"I don't know," Velvet said. "Religion wasn't really a big part of my upbringing. I spent a lot of time in Atlas, actually."

"So you're an atheist like Weiss here," Shamrock said. "Content to die faithless."

Velvet rubbed her arms uncomfortably. "I don't know. I'm not saying I don't believe in anything. I guess I'd buy into the Sect of the Saints? Like most Valeans. Following virtuous heroes who became part of the pantheon with the gods, looking out for good people regardless of race or anything." She didn't really know why she felt the need to explain her own religion. But then again, maybe half of the team wasn't from Vale. They probably didn't know. Not that it really mattered. Religion was a personal matter, not something polite to just talk about like this. Velvet regretted bringing up the topic, one way or the other

"You gotta be dumb to think anything good of the gods," Shamrock said with an almost mocking laugh. "Calling them wise and virtuous, asking for their blessings. Now, sure, you leave the agnostic safety of the kingdom and you'll find nothing but the faithful beyond the city's walls, who always have burnt offerings and animals ready to sacrifice for the gods. The pious forget what makes gods gods, y'know?

"Ask for good harvests and protection from the Grimm all you want, but never forget that immortal things of endless powers dine on fire and blood. You don't want their attention. That's why I do this." And she made one of those left-handed gestures.

Something about that felt oddly heavy and uncomfortable to Velvet. She didn't like the idea of being considered different from humans in legal context. And she especially didn't like being considered different for theological sentient being-sacrifice reasons. This was why you didn't talk about religion. But of course, anything dating back to the Final Empire was so shrouded in myth and legend that it was nearly impossible to separate historical fact from religious belief.

"People believe their own religions," Velvet said softly.

"I would presume, yes," Yatsuhashi said.

She made a face. "No, I mean. We were talking about ancient history. Fact and fiction and belief all get mixed together. A lot of people forget that ancient peoples genuinely believed in demons and ghosts and supernatural, bloodthirsty gods. Stuff that's easy to laugh at today, but to them was real as Dust."

Blake chimed in with, "Which is why reaching back that far is self-defeating. History is written by whoever learned to write first. It's better to accept that it's just a jumbled mess back then, and focus on the present, fixing what's wrong now."

Velvet didn't really know how to reply to that. So she didn't, focusing on the stairs down, and the way the tunnel was slightly widening out. Which was becoming a problem.

Everyone's lights were starting to dim as batteries and power were running low. Velvet might not have noticed it, lost in her own uncomfortable thought, except for the way she suddenly found the flashlight beams not penetrating very far in the newly expanding chamber they seem to have climbed down into. She swore the batteries were fresh, though. This was weird. She slapped her flashlight against her hand and it went dead.

Jaune was staring at her, his eyes a little unfocused. She was about to tell him to stop when he pulled out some little hand-crank device from his person and held his hands out to her. "Hey, V, damelo. Your light."

She hesitated long enough that he just took it from her. Over her protests, he pulled out the batteries and plugged them into his tool. A pressure gauge on the device ticked up partially, probably indicating the battery power. He gave it several cranks until the meter maxed out. He slid the batteries back into her light and handed it over.

Velvet took it quickly, giving him just the smallest scowl, before turning the light on. Compared to everything else, the beam was so strong it nearly blinded her. She saw little flashes in her vision, her knuckles itching. The beam hit a dark crystal of Dust on the wall which exploded in its off colour light. And then the next crystal lit up, and the next, and the next, until the entire chamber glowed softly with an ethereal luminescence. She picked up a distant sound, like the shimmering of Dust but on a much lower wavelength. Like someone had slowed the sound down and put it through a reverb, echoing through her very bones.

The effect was immediate on everybody, like a wave of sudden nausea. It smelled of cherries and mustard. Coco stumbled, her partner catching her. Weiss' hand went to the scar over her eye. Velvet felt a pit in her gut. She remembered an underage drinking party she had attended once in combat school in her quest to make friends. The sensation was like the aftermath, an almost tangible sense of regret and a vague hangover feeling.

Illuminated now, she could make out the entirety of the cavern. She expected it to be gigantic like the skinwalkers' cavern, but it was far more compact, with Dust crystals all over the walls and ceiling. Here and there Velvet made out little passageways that emptied into the chamber, alternate routes they probably could have eventually found to this place if not for the hidden door. The cavern was maybe a hundred feet high roughly triangular in shape, with the teams at the top of a stairway leading down into it. There were structures scattered along the stairs and at the bottom of the cave, made of that fused, oily black stone. It almost looked like the cave and Dust had started to grow over the man-made structures, which didn't make sense. Nothing could be that old. The largest of the structures looked like a giant pedestal in the center floor, carved and polished, holding up some kind of liquid orb of red and black. Velvet heard that deep, thrumming sound, and swore she saw the orb move. But it had to just be some weird old statue, even if it looked like a liquid.

Then, she thought she spotted a body. "I… think there's someone down there. In the cave." Speaking made her stomach do a backflip. She saw more of those tiny flashes of light without any obvious source. As if they were inside her eyeball itself.

"Stars," Fox said, awed. Velvet almost didn't think anything of it, until she realized it was a visual observation. Fox couldn't do that. She followed his dead eyes to a crystal, to a little mote of light like she had seen earlier. Only now, with so many crystals, so much space, there were far more of them. They were nothing like the ceiling of glowing silkworms, hanging there to entrap bats or whatever. These were a storm of lights, floating individually on a breeze only they could ride.

"How are you possibly seeing them?" Coco asked him.

"I don't know," Fox whispered breathlessly. "It's—I don't know. We should leave. Now."

Blake grunted. "No, Velvet's right. Down there, by that weird thing, I think I see someone. They're just lying there. I, I think it's Team CCHS?"

"Let's get down there, make sure, and then find a way out," Jaune said, scratching at his bandages. "Coco, you with me?"

Coco blinked, as if emerging from a stupor. "Uh! Yeah, find them. Finish the mission. Let's do this quick."

Fox made an uncomfortable noise, and Velvet empathized. But with both team leaders making the call, it didn't seem like anybody had the courage to fight them on it. Not when talking felt this weird.

And so they descended the stairs, past other cave tunnels, ignoring little doorways and buildings of black stone along the way. Velvet distantly recalled that some people were sensitive to electronics. Getting too close to a hydroelectric dam or intense power lines made them feel ill. If this Dust was related to electricity, maybe that was what was happening, but on a powerful scale. It still didn't explain the lights in her eyes. Or the stars floating through the air.

She didn't have the energy to jump out of the way in time when one flew right through her.

oooOOOooo

Velvet saw through eyes that weren't her own. Feeling a body she didn't possess. Standing in an open-aired black stone palace, she stared out across a plain filled with unknown trees and animals.

A heart that wasn't hers dropped into her stomach as a wall of purple light surged across the horizon, stretching from the ground up to the heavens. And in the heavens, the moon in the sky wasn't shattered. She pissed herself as the purple light washed over her, ripping her apart molecule by molecule.

oooOOOooo

I choked, tasting blood in my mouth. I didn't know what I just saw. And the blisters across my arms felt hot and wet with seeping pus. I held my hands up, watching the white bandages only recently replaced slowly soak through in real time with an off-red fluid.

Newly collapsing against the wall, I barely managed to keep my legs beneath me as I looked over everyone else. Coco was nearly doubled over. Her partner, Fox, had wide eyes, his back locked straight. The boy was nearly hyperventilating, his milky eyes flicking back and forth and back and forth. Velvet's hands were bleeding. For his part, Yatsuhashi had taken out his massive hunk of metal masquerading as a sword and was using it almost like a walking cane.

Blake was leaning against me, grabbing my shirt to steady herself. I wrapped my arm around her, holding her close, ignoring the way my leaking arm stained the patches of white around her waist.

"What the fuck was that?" I asked, and saw spots. Distantly, I recalled a story from an astronaut. He had seen little flashes of light across his vision, inside his eye itself, during a spacewalk. Upon realizing this, he decided to tell no one, afraid that people would think he was insane or losing it. It was only much later, when he wasn't at risk of being disbarred from NASA that he mentioned this to a colleague, who excitedly revealed he had seen the same thing and was terrified that he was the only one.

It had been radiation. Solar rays hitting the human eye without the protection of the Earth's magnetosphere. The particles had gone through the body and affected the photoreceptors, and the perception of brief flashes of light was simply how the human brain interpreted the damage.

My wounds itched. Had we already come this far down the stairs? I couldn't remember.

The mote of light passed through me like I wasn't even there.

oooOOOooo

"We should get going," I said, pulling away from her and rubbing the back of my head. The girl standing in front of me had just kissed me and I didn't know what to do with it. The petite blonde in the ruined dress. I was too young and immature to handle these feelings. Years later and I still didn't think I was.

"Good point. Have to get home before my dad, or he'll know I was out all night with a boy." She elbowed me. Something about her touch was both terrifying and magical.

I bit my lip. Every part of me hurt, in some ways emotionally, and now the ways from the battered, destroyed state of my body from a night of getting my ass kicked. The golden retriever puppy happily resting in my cowboy duster pockets made it all worth it.

"So, that's it then?" I said.

As we walked away, Simone put a hand on my shoulder, looking up at me through her eyelashes. Those gorgeous gray eyes, the nearly white-blonde hair, and that perfect figure under her battletorn dress. But what girl isn't perfect when you're fifteen and she's into you?

"What, were you expecting something more on a first date?" Simone asked.

I swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. Not far in the distance, the PRT building, a government office staffed by normal humans tasked with dealing with superhuman criminals and other shenanigans, was starting to burn due to our actions. But to be fair, some bitch tried to steal my dog, and domestic terrorism was just the logical conclusion of trying to rescue him. Just seemed like the thing to do. So somehow here we were, in an alley away from the chaos, having actually escaped both the superheroes and the consequences of our actions. At least for tonight.

When we were together, Simone and I had big dick, small brain energy like that.

The next instant her hand was gone from my shoulder, a coy smile on her lips. "Just—do me a favor, cowboy?"

"What is it?" I asked.

She hummed. "It's a small favor, really, but it would mean a whole lot to me. Just…"

"Yeah?" I prompted. The me behind the eyes, Jaune, the one still distantly aware he was trying to carry Blake, felt only a cold sense of disgust and rage at seeing her. That knowing that one point I would have done anything for her out of some obligatory sense of love I was too dumb to understand until it killed us both.

There was something less and yet more than human behind her gray eyes. Something that was and wasn't Simone in equally supernatural measure as she spoke.

"When I sober up, don't tell Simone about this."

oooOOOooo

"No!" Coco said, seeing her grandfather fade from her vision. She inhaled sharply and she found herself back in the cave, and then sneezed up a mix of blood and mucus. It covered her hands in a disgusting slurry. Breathing heavily, she rubbed it against the walls to try to get it off.

The bat hiding under her beret didn't make any sounds. It didn't move. She hadn't even gotten a chance to name the thing, probably something cool like Kick Batowski or whatever. And now?

Now she looked at her friends, her team, and everyone else. Bleeding. Slumping. Their eyes unfocused and dead. They seemed even further down the stairs than they had been before.

Velvet ran a shaky hand over one of her bunny ears, tearing away a clump of fur. The girl just stared at the hair in her hand, as if she couldn't comprehend what she was looking at. Weiss had blood and other viscera around the corners of her eyes like some edgy teen romance novel. It took Coco a moment to realize it was from the pair of scars over and above her eye, somehow opening up and bleeding all over her. She didn't look hot anymore, just disheveled and destroyed and disgusting, with the blood and that filthy dress.

Shamrock was… who the hell was Shamrock? Coco watched in idle fascination as Shamrock seemed to shift before their very eyes, again and again and again. Faunus, human, male, female, indeterminate, and back through, constantly cycling. It didn't make any sense. It made the pain in her eyes even worse to consider.

Everything inside Coco hurt. The pain in her fractured spine felt like she was trying to bend over and touch her toes from behind. This dull, aching throb far too severe to make any sense. Her organs felt loose, injured bones shifting out of place. When she tried to focus on the feeling, the sensation, she threw up over her bare feet. It was mostly blood and bile.

"Adam, no," Blake moaned, looking barely coherent. Jaune held her even tighter to himself, his arms bleeding over her back. But still, everyone kept trying to move forwards on increasingly useless limbs.

"It's not real," Jaune whispered, his Aura glowing. "None of it is real. The only way out is through."

Somehow, somehow, Coco knew he was right. There were tunnels in the base of this cave, this poisonous place. And she knew that one way or the other, the little tomb the white thing had trapped them in would have led it down here. Those animal bastards knew what they were doing. The humming lady didn't want to kill them herself, but was more than happy to let whatever the hell this was do it for them. Their only hope was to try to make it through. Follow one of the tunnels in the end and hope it led somewhere back. The White Fang had implied as much. And at this point, it was a longer way up the stairs and down. They were trapped unless they went through.

"Why don't you remember Hiyoko, mom?" Yatsuhashi said, cradling his sword like an infant.

But that meant making it through this place.

They were only here because of Coco. Everyone was bleeding, dying, seeing things, because of her. Because she just couldn't tell people she knew what happened to Team CCHS. Couldn't explain how she knew. Couldn't let anyone know that she had left a begging man to die because she was terrified.

This was all her fault. Call her shameful. Call her a bitch. Call her a selfish cunt, for all it was worth. She was. She admitted it to herself. Because Coco could never admit it to anyone else. Even just opening her mouth, thinking about it, her gums felt bloody, her teeth loose. She snapped her jaw shut and clenched her eyes.

She felt the star pierce her skull.

oooOOOooo

Haakon laughed at her. "You see it too, don't you? You know I could have helped. I survived this thing."

"Shut the fuck up," Coco breathed, feeling her body moving on autopilot. It was like she had no control over her limbs or her mouth. The background shifted between the stairs and fields of grass.

Stuck into the tree that grew through him, Haakon didn't move, but always seemed to be right beside Coco. "I wonder how your grandfather would see you now. The Eranstani always did value honesty. I think it's part of that religion. I don't know; I can't believe in a god that does this to people."

"You're not real," she said, and coughed. Despite the pain and in her back, there was nothing left in her stomach to throw up. She dry heaved and stumbled forward down the stairs.

"I'm as real as your sense of honor and decency," Haakon said, joints creaking as the tree moved with him. "Maybe if you told them the truth, I'd go away forever."

"No," she moaned.

A wall of purple light stretching to the moon itself washed over the land. Erupting from some distant mountain and spilling across rivers and lakes and forests right to the stairwell Coco was climbing down. She was helpless to stop it.

He snorted. "Of course. How could I forget? Before the truth will set you free, it'll piss you off. And you just love being everyone's flawless little hero girl, don't you?"

The wall of light ripped through Coco, but Haakon didn't disappear. Not even when the vision stopped. Not even when she had to grab the wall and drag her face along it to stay standing and keep descending.

oooOOOooo

"Yeah, I guess it is kinda funny," Simone said, walking beside me with her arms clasped behind her back. She was a lone icon of immaculate perfection in a dark sea of blood and vomit. We were nearing the bottom of the stairs, into the center of the chamber, where that strange device held up the massive orb as big as a semi truck compacted into a ball.

"Go back to my nightmares," I said, every breath labored. The old scar across my chest had split slightly, like gravity were pulling it apart, trailing red all over my clothes. Every twist of the torso pulled it apart fiber by fiber.

Simone tucked her nearly white blonde hair behind her ears, her smile small and genuine. "Oh, please. Your nightmares are so boring and adult." She gestured with her slender, delicate hand. "It's all 'am I strong enough to be worthy of my friend?', 'Will people respect me if I try my hardest even if I fail' or-or even 'Am I a good enough person'? Give me a break. Why can't you have more exciting nightmares for me to play with, like world ending apocalypse, fate twisting abominations, or existential dread about Blake's cup size?"

I ran my hand over my face, and felt some of my skin slough off beneath my fingers. "You're disgusting."

"I'm just the one who knows the appropriate level of seriousness to take everything in this world," she said. And then, with a pointed tilt of the head towards me: "So did you. What was it you said that one time? 'The only thing I take seriously is my job.' I figured you'd be having more fun in this insane clown world. Instead, look at you, Eric."

"That's not my name!"

"It was once, though, wasn't it? Or did you decide that was just another lie, too?"

I growled in the back of my throat, trying to land a sucker punch against her throat. She just stepped back perfectly and laughed, more happy and amused, like children playing a game. The motion sent me off balance, nearly tripping down the last few stairs.

Blake held on to me with a savage ferocity. "No! You stay away from him, Adam—stay away from me!"

Simone laughed, a girlish sound. "Aw, look at her. She thinks she's protecting you. That's so sweet. But, really, it's kind of sad. Everything about her is sad. Imagine having feelings for someone when you're not even emotionally over your ex—still traumatized, even. Tsk! Couldn't be me."

I kept Blake close, on her feet. Even as my bandages soak through with pus and blood. As I spit viscera out of my mouth. "You're not even real, Simone."

"Are you, Eric?" she asked, frowning. She continued to walk backwards in front of me, arms behind her back.

"No," I breathed. "Maybe. Fuck if I know. Fuck if I care. I can't undo what you did to my head. All I can do is be there for the people who matter to me, who are real. Like her."

The closer we got to the thing in the center of the cave, the more I heard that low thrumming sound in my bones. It looked like a liquid up close. Not just oily, but like some kind of ferrofluid. It pulsed and heaved almost organically, made of black and white and red like Grimm. I didn't know how it was held up there. And beneath it was some kind of console, for lack of a better word. Or perhaps an altar. It drew me closer.

"And now we're back to being funny," Simone said without any humor. "I think I'm the only real one here. Everyone is losing their minds and melting. There's magic in this place. They're all seeing their personal demons and nightmares. Except for you. I'm keeping you safe. I'm the reason you can still walk. See, the others? Your team might like you, Blake might have convinced herself she has feelings, but they don't give a fuck about you like I do."

"You never cared about me!" I snapped. "You just thought I was some pet, some trophy to keep along on your own wild ride of a life. And I was going to be part of it, with or without my consent."

She pretended to look fascinated by that revelation. "So you only existed to serve my interests, my character arc? Hmm! Remind me again why you think you're the main character, the only one who deserves the first person pronoun?"

"Don't you get meta at me, bitch!"

Blake made a half-hearted attempt to push me out of the way of something, her eyes unfocused. She didn't get very far. Weiss kept muttering the word mommy over and over. They were hardly the only ones talking to themselves, speaking with ghosts.

Simone's gray eyes seemed to light up with some spark of recognition, or cat-like jealousy. "But I guess you do have one point. I do love being the center of attention, everyone's number one girl. Waifu with a knifu."

She slowly raised her arms and snapped her fingers.

Instantly, everyone stopped muttering and talking to themselves, moaning or crying. The only sounds were the thrumming of the orb above us, the shimmering of the Dust, and irregular blood drops onto the stoneworks.

"Jaune," Blake croaked, looking forwards with wide eyes. She wasn't the only one doing so. "What—who's that?"

I felt my heart sink into my balls. I nearly lost feeling in my arms as I held onto Blake as tightly as I could, damn the pain, damn the cramping. But my grip was shaky, irregular, and bleeding.

I met Simone's eyes and felt my nose bleed.

"Oops," she said with the innocence of a child who had dropped her favorite stuffed animal. "Went too far there." Simone just grinned, basking in the attention of us eight corpses.

Until she shrugged it off like it was none of her business. "But I suppose I never did get the handle on my limits. And there's so much power here." She leaned forwards, onto her tippy toes, and extended a hand for Blake to shake. When Blake was too weak to extend her hand, Simone just said, "Ah, yeah, forgot. Dying. In that case, hiya! I'm Simone Morgan!"

"Simone," Blake mumbled weakly. "I… he mentioned you."

"Yeah, I guess neither of you two really got over your demons. Embarrassing for you both, really. But can you blame Eric here? I mean, I am pretty much the much prettier, much quirker ex-girlfriend who ruined his life that girls are always terrified of. Basically his Adam. At your service!"

"You are," Fox breathed. "I… I can see you. Why? You're—allah yarham. How? Oh my god, is that how girls look like? Shit!"

Simone beamed. Instead of replying directly, she walked over and crouched beside the decayed husk of a woman in armor. Her leathery skin and bones looked melted, fused into the stones of the ground. She took the woman's scroll and looked up straight at Coco. "I'm just the strongest hallucination. I got bored of listening to all your inner demons. Neat stuff, but I need to maintain my clingy, stalk-y behavior if I want to keep in character."

Coco somehow looked even more pale and frail. Simone tossed the scroll into the air, before it jerked in midair and flew to Coco. She nearly fell to catch it. It turned off with a flicker of light.

Weakly, Velvet held her own scroll in one hand. Taking pictures or recording something. I couldn't tell, and didn't care.

"It's… the leader of team CCHS," Coco said, blood leaking from her mouth. She wiped it on her sleeve. "It's here."

"But I bet you already knew that and what happened, huh, Coco?"

Coco nearly collapsed against one of the pillars holding up the undulating orb above us. She was sweating a river. Her bare feet were covered in puke.

"Honestly, I'd be happy to stay a little nightmare, enjoying the ride, if only he had chosen to stay safe and ignorant," Simone hummed happily. "But, hey! The Dust here is awful strong. Gave me a reason to stop by, say hi, cause problems, and skedaddle on off to wherever it is bad ideas go when you choose not to think of them."

"Dust," Shamrock said.

"Awful name, I know," Simone said with a shrug.

"It really is dead people," Shamrock went on, and I couldn't pin down their species or gender.

"…just a mineral," Weiss said weakly, trying to wipe the sweat and blood from her face.

"No," Shamrock said, more firmly. "Man transgressed against the divine and were wiped out. But Papa Gede interceded on behalf of those he liked. He thought it'd be funny to make man again, to make faunus, and force them to blaspheme just to survive on this world. Dust is people. It's magic. It's all true! And Simone—you're one of them. One of the elder things." A pause. "Jaune, did you actually fuck a goddess?"

Simone smiled hideously. "Dunno 'bout that. He wasn't very good. Blake, you should really temper your expectations."

Blake made a choking noise.

"Shut up!" I shouted. "Everyone shut up! We're just seeing things, all of us. It's just radiation. We're all poisoned. Dying. Don't listen to it; that thing isn't real. It's just trying to fuck with us."

"I'm actually here to help," Simone said politely. "I can make this all go away. Make the pain stop and the Dust contain itself. Protect you from the Old Magics here."

"How?" Coco demanded.

Simone shrugged. "Oh, I have my ways. But like the call girl I is, I don't work for free. I want something."

"Our souls," Shamrock said, and laughed frantically. "You want our souls. This is it. Our flesh for our souls. That's it, isn't it?"

"What, no!" Simone laughed, waving her hand as if to dismiss a bad smell. "I've already met my soul quota with blondie boy here. All I want is a couple of words." She walked up towards me, leaning close. "I just want you to apologize and say that you need me. That's all! Simple, really. More an ego trip than anything."

"No!" I hissed. "I won't do anything for you. You're not real. None of this is real."

"Ooor I could make it worse for you?" she said sweetly, raising her fingers to snap them.

"Hurt any of my friends and I'll kill you!"

"You killed me once. Do you really have the balls to do it again?" She shrugged. "Hit me, kiss me, nail me, kill me. It's always the same way for us, isn't it?"

"Fuck you!"

Simone frowned, puffing those kissable lips of hers. "Aw, you're so mean to me. You'd almost think I like the abuse, the way I always stick around. Shame that I don't."

She snapped her fingers, and I instantly doubled over in pain. Blood soaked my bandages. They fell away to reveal the skin beneath, pockmarked and blistered, fresh wounds open and festering like an infectious dose of hydrogen peroxide. Blake yelled as she hit the floor. Everyone screamed, a cacophony of a dozen emotions.

And then I realized the loudest scream wasn't from my bleeding, dying friends. It was coming from inside my own head. It was almost like the memory of a scream. And it wasn't even a single voice. It undulated and rose and fell, mixing with hysterical laughter, insane babbling, sobbing, and pain. I couldn't even cover my ears with my shaking hands to make it stop.

Everyone grabbed their skulls, feeling it too.

Simone crouched down, running her soft, slender fingers over my bleeding tattoo. The one depicting the many-winged angel.

"I can make it stop," the scream said. "Just say the words, Eric."

"No!" I howled, swatting at her. I succeeded only in splashing blood over her dress.

"Jaune!" Coco screamed, shredding her throat to be heard over the noise in our head. "Push your panties and your pride to the side and fucking do it!"

I wept, openly. Hunching over into a ball at Simone's feet. "I… I hate you. I fuckin' hate you, bitch!" And then, with the last bit of defiance left in my soul, I looked up at her and growled. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I killed you. I'm sorry I wasn't who you needed. Simone, I need you."

The screaming stopped. She reached down and cupped my chin, fingers stroking my bloody, aching face. "Now was that so hard, Eric?"

"…yes."

She stood up taller. "Shame. Because the next part is going to be so, so much worse. You can reason with me. You can't reason with her."

"Who?" I asked, the lights dancing through my eyes.

Simone put a shushing finger up to her own lips. "Mother is the Name for God on the lips and hearts of little children."

When she snapped her fingers, everything stopped. The pain. The motes of light. The Dust. Everyone just stopped.

Until the orb of liquid above us cracked and groaned and started to leak. I saw faces in the liquid, bones and claws and fangs. Grimm. Liquid Grimm pooling at our feet and filling the floor of the cave.

"Simone, you can't!" I said, I begged. "You can't do this to us. I can't—I can't. Please!"

Simone took my hand and helped me to my numb, shaking feet. She brushed her fingers along my bicep, of my tattoo of the six-winged angel—my tattoo of her—before pointing to the altar beneath the thrumming, leaking orb. Saying nothing, she merely gave me a curious look. No, not me. At the feather on my chest. And suddenly I understood something.

I stumbled forwards, grabbing at the feather. I ripped it off with the drama clasp Ruby had designed for it.

"Jaune," Blake said, reaching out towards me. I swallowed and ignored her.

"Jaune, what are you doing?" she asked again.

"Everything I can fucking think of," I said, dipping the feather into my splitting chest wound. I anointed myself the symbol of the cross. Then slammed the bloody feather onto the ancient blackstone altar. "Pray to your favorite god it works!"

The liquid stopped leaking. I looked around in the darkness, the flashlights I'd charged up with the gorilla faunus' device the only sources of illumination. Until I felt that last bit of strength in my spine crack and give with just a single sentence from behind me, a woman speaking from the altar.

Someone who wasn't Simone. I spun, collapsing to my knees as I saw her. The altar was glowing, projecting the image of a tall woman with skin as white as porcelain. The same color as the mask Simone once more.

Simone smiled, waving at her happily. All I could do was break down and laugh hysterically.

"I am afraid only I can hear your prayers here, sweet children," she said in a motherly tone, almost surprised by the sight before her. She lifted her hand. "And I am afraid—I shall not answer them."

The orb above us shattered and drowned us in a sea of sentient, liquid Grimm.

---

End of Volume 5

See you next week for Volume 6: Reach Heaven Through Violence