Author's Notes:

-Hey everyone! Looks like school's been kicking my butt and I've been a little slower with these chapters. Some more reviews would also be nice, but I'll still write either way.

-In unrelated news, Happy Valentine's Day! (Or Singles Awareness Day!) Regardless of which one you celebrated, I hope you had a good day. Once again, there ain't much love or romance to be found in this chapter.

Any who, let's get this show on the road!

The scene returned to Jacques's study in the present, where he and Whitley were listening to Iris's story.

"I would have thought that things would get better from there." Iris told them, her eyes still blue. "Unfortunately, I was wrong. Not too long after I got home, mother kicked me out for my decision to drop out of Atlas. She believed that I was being a selfish, disgraceful, cold-blooded coward. This kind of treatment was the last thing I needed. Father tried to reason with her, but she refused to listen. She gave me a week to pack my bags and get out. She didn't even allow me to take my bed with me. She said she wanted to use my room for rent, but in reality, it was probably just to punish me even further.

"Since I had to find an apartment, I couldn't take all my paintings with me. All 65 Atlas paintings were taken with me, and The Night Shift was never recovered in the chaos. All of my pre-Atlas work, save for the first painting I ever made and the last painting made before Atlas, was sold. However, not all 600 pre-Atlas paintings survived over the years. Some were destroyed by my meddlesome brothers. Some were accidentally destroyed by me. A few were confiscated and later destroyed by my mother. Still, with 538 pieces sold in seven days, it was the longest and largest individual art sale in recorded history. Although I did make a lot of money from it, I was still terribly depressed, even if I didn't show it.

"After seven days of selling paintings, moving all the items I could take with me to my apartment, and buying a green couch to substitute for my missing mattress, I isolated myself from the world. Since the previous week had been spent running the art sale and moving out, I didn't have enough time to properly grieve."

And as I soon as I shut my apartment door for the first time, I sobbed. Really hard.

Iris was shown slamming the door, before dropping to her knees and sobbing uncontrollably. The apartment was full of boxes which had yet to be unpacked.

The Grimm attack on Mantle, and all of the deaths that came with it, including Mindy's, caused me to feel really horrible.Because of what happened, I believed that everyone who died that day, including Mindy, was all my fault. As a result, I stopped painting for nearly two months. I was very tired, had no motivation, and simply lived in darkness, both literally and figuratively. Most of my early days had been spent on that green couch. After Mindy's death, I hardly ate, slept horribly and I found no joy in anything. I was suffering from PTSD, survivor's guilt, and quite possibly depression as well. And I was all alone.

Iris was shown with her green sheet and rainbow colored blanket, cuddled under the covers on her green couch. Her blue pillow was behind her, a few fallen tears visible on it. Her blue eyes stared around the dark room.

I never attempted, or even thought of suicide, but I didn't really want to live either. Living but not alive. It was a very miserable state of existence. Eventually, I was approached by one of my neighbors, a kind woman named Brook. She was an elderly woman who was kind to everyone that she met. She helped me get out of the dark place I had been in.

Iris was shown sitting on her couch with an old woman who had short white hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. Brook wore a simple dark blue dress with black horizontal stripes across it with black tights and white slip-ons with liliac flowers on the toe.

"Tell me child, what is it that ails your heart?" Brook asked her.

Iris sighed. "It's a long story."

I told her everything I told you so far, and she listened to me without judgement. She came to me everyday, bringing baked goods and food, and even gave me books to read for pleasure. A few days after our first meeting, I started painting again. Although I was painting more sorrowful works to express my feelings, I had returned to what I had loved doing. To make money, I sold my Atlas paintings and made new paintings to sell. A month later, I got myself a library card and began checking out books on a regular basis. I was at relative peace for two months. Brook had advised me to see a professional counselor, but I was reluctant for two reasons; One, treatment would be expensive. And two, I feared it wouldn't help me or that the therapist wouldn't understand me. It wasn't until Brook became lost her memory as a result of a car crash a month later that I decided to get treated for PTSD.

Iris was shown wearing the same outfit she was currently wearing, only her shoes were in much better shape and there were no paint stains of any kind as she sat in a therapist's office.

The therapy did help to an extent, but unfortunately, I still couldn't forgive myself for the tragedy that happened. Also, as a result of my treatment, my expenses increased significantly. Without a real proper job and all my Atlas paintings already sold, they were becoming harder and harder to pay. Eventually in September, shortly before Beacon's fall, I quit treatment. Then, sometime in November, the owner of Courtyard Apartments retired, and the new landlady increased rent. Other expenses also piled up, and soon I was losing customers interested in my artwork. Desperate, I tried creating several artworks in a week, sometimes even in a day, but no one payed any attention to me. As my problems got worse, I was fading into obscurity, and was soon forgotten in the art community.

Red paint stains were seen on her turtleneck as she looked at an artist receiving praise and money. She sighed sadly and walked away, not wanting her envy to be known.

"So why didn't you ever get a real job?" Whitley asked off-screen. "Or ask your parents for help?"

The scene returned to the present. "Because I thought that they wouldn't give me any help and I considered it to be the equivalent of proving my doubting family members, namely my mother, to be right." Iris answered. "I wanted to prove them wrong so badly; that I could make a living as an artist. Unfortunately, I am aware that my methods aren't working and that my stupid, stubborn pride could get me homeless. Or worse."

Jacques raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"Refusing to give in due to my pride, I started living as cheaply as I could; taking advantage of every sale and free items, getting only the bare necessities, and, as of one month ago, limiting myself to a single meal each day." Whitley looked visibly distressed upon hearing this. Even Jacques grimaced slightly. "Even worse, a few days before Whitley came to me, I received notice that my medical bill of 6,500 Lien was overdue. They also added a late fee of 1,000 Lien. With 2,000 Lien for two months rent due at the end of the month, plus the total medical bill of 7,500, plus roughly 500 for utilities, I owe almost 10,000 Lien to varying parties."

"Oh dear." he responded. "That is a lot of debt for an unemployed woman such as yourself."

"It is. With the huge debt on my shoulders, plus the fact that I'm dead broke save for the thousand Lien I just got by making this artwork, this painting has never been more crucial. If it doesn't sell, it's the end of my art career, and possibly the end of me." She sighed, and a few moments of somber silence passed, no one knowing what to say. "Is it wrong to want to escape the fate you were born into? To become something bigger and better than what you currently are?"

For a moment, there was silence. Whitley did not know what to say. But Jacques did. "I wouldn't necessarily say so. Not everyone is fortunate enough to be born into wealth. But success does not come overnight. Not for most people anyway."

"You know, perhaps you could come to the concert." Whitley suggested. "You'd gain a very good reputation as an artist by standing among the elite."

"I can't. This money is basically my last resort emergency fund if I become homeless. Honestly, if I lose my home, I don't really know what I'm going to do." She sighed. "I suppose this small amount of emergency money is better than nothing... Besides, you're probably sold out of tickets by now."

"Actually, we're not." Jacques answered. "There are actually thirty left."

Iris looked at him in curious disbelief. "Really? And how is that so?"

"With the most of the internet going down when Beacon's CCT tower fell, ticket sales have been slower compared to previous similar events."

"Do you think that perhaps you could give one of these remaining tickets to her?" Whitley asked. "No one would notice one being given away."

"Considering the average amount of tickets sold a day is around fifteen, tickets are unlikely to sell out before the concert begins... Hmm..." Iris looked at him sadly. "Oh... Alright. I'll give you a ticket to the SDC Charity Concert, on the condition that you tell no one I gave it to you."

Her eyes turned yellow as she beamed. "Thank you, Mr. Schnee!" She put her right hand over her heart. "You have my word as a painter!"

"I do have one question for you." He handed her a ticket. "Why it is that your eyes change color?"

She put the ticket away and answered, "I was born with a rare, non harmful condition called EECD. Stands for Everchanging Eye Color Disorder."

"I believe our butler Klein has a similar condition to yours." Whitley added. "Perhaps it is just EECD in a different form."

"I can't speak for Klein, but in my case, my eyes are normally grey when I am calm or feeling no emotion. There are six different alternate eye colors that may appear, all of which are colors of the rainbow. I'd tell you what emotion responds to which color, but usually they're pretty easy for most people to figure out."

"Alright, let's see if I can correctly guess them." Whitley mused himself for a moment. "Blue is obviously sadness." Iris nodded in confirmation. "Yellow is joy. Purple is fear." She nodded 'yes' for both of them. "Green is... envy?"

She nodded negatively. "Disgust actually. You were close."

"Red is anger without a doubt. But what's orange?"

Iris chuckled. "I'm not telling you that one. I will tell you this; it is an emotion I feel so rarely. Perhaps, if I feel that I can trust you enough, maybe I will tell you." Her eyes turned purple. "Oh man, I just realized something! How am I going to dress to hide among the upper class elite? What if they see me as a fake?"

"Calm down, Iris. Just wear the nicest dress you can find. As a nice young lady surely you must have at least one dress in your closet."

"I have a few of them." Her eyes turned grey as she thought to herself. "I have one semi-formal dress that might fit the bill. Any tips on how to look like an upper class member? Like, what kind of jewelry to wear? And how much? How to style my hair? Or...?"

"Slow down, Iris. I can't listen and respond that fast. Generally for jewelry, less is more. If you want to fool the upper class, you don't want anything overly obvious. If you have a pearl necklace or bracelet, don one of those pieces. Pearls are harder to examine from a distance. For your hair, you definitely want it brushed and neatly groomed. Once that's done, I'd advise you to put it up in some way if you can. I know you probably have more questions. Perhaps you could come here to prepare and enjoy the afternoon with us."

"Really?" Her eyes turned yellow. "Wow, um, thanks?"

"You're welcome. Is there anything else you'd like to ask?"

"I do have one question, although I fear you might not have an answer." Iris's eyes were now purple. "How many paintings have been entered into the auction?"

Jacques looked at something on his computer. "Let's see... With your recent addition, there are approximately 176 paintings."

"And how many artworks are there total?'

"315 total artworks have been entered."

"Why do you ask?" Whitley responded.

She rubbed her right elbow nervously. "Honestly, I'm scared that my painting won't sell. With over three hundred pieces entered, and over half of them being paintings, what are the chances that my last ditch effort will succeed?"

"Don't worry, Iris." He smirked. "There's no way anyone will be able to turn a blind eye."

Meanwhile in Vita, Blake and Sun followed the sound of the scream they heard earlier. Upon reaching the scene, they saw four Noire armada sailors led by a man with black fedora hat with a yellow ribbon around the base. He wore a black cape with a yellow interior, a black t-shirt with yellow horizontal stripes and ripped black jeans. On the left side of his shirt was a skull and crossbones emblem- the symbol of the Noire Armada. It was hard to see his hair and eye color from a distance.

They also saw five faunus, all of which were teenagers. Three of them had green ribbons on their right wrists while the other two had owl feathers on their masks. The three with green ribbons were a boy with dog ears, a girl with bunny ears, and a guy with cat ears. The two with owl feathers had one member with a lizard tail and the other with a trait that couldn't be easily seen.

"Look, I know we hate each other, but until these guys are out of our hair, I think we should work together." The dog eared boy spoke.

"He has a point." the lizard tail man remarked.

The bunny eared faunus sighed. "Fair enough."

"What are they talking about?" Sun asked in a whisper.

"I have no idea." Blake answered in the same hushed tone. "Why would the White Fang be fighting amongst themselves?"

"Well, looks like we have to do this the hard way." one of the Noire Armada sailors said.

"It's always the hard way." the fedora man told them.

That voice was familiar. Blake squinted her eyes and looked at his face. Upon closer examination, she realized... "Xanthe?"

"Looks like he's still playing actor." Sun stated. "What do we do now?"

"Did you hear something?" one of the Noire Armada sailors asked.

"No. Why?" another responded.

The bunny eared girl's bunny ears perked up. "I did. Someone's eavesdropping."

Everyone looked up and saw them.

"Intruders!"

"Encroachers!"

"Well, looks like subtlety is out." Blake said.

She and Sun jumped down into the fray.

The third Noire Armada sailor gasped, pointing to Blake. "It's her! The one who killed Corvina! Get her!"

The four sailors charged towards her. Blake fired her gun at three of the incoming sailors as the duel began, killing the third one with a headshot as the other two dodged. Sun quickly got out his staff, and knocked down the two Revolutionists as he spun it around. At this moment, Xanthe decided to punch one of the sailors.

"Hey man, what are you doing?!" he asked.

"Sorry boys, but things aren't always what they seem." Xanthe apologized.

He took off the Noire Armada badge and got out his frying pan. He quickly knocked out the sailor with the pan and then stabbed him with a dagger to the throat, killing him in his sleep. Blake kicked the first Noire armada sailor down as Sun used rope to tie up the easily defeated Revolutionists. The first one was stabbed in the back of his neck by Xanthe, ending him.

The second and fourth sailors were trying to run away.

"We need get out here!" the second sailor exclaimed. "We have to warn her!"

Xanthe stood right in front of their path and gave them a malevolent glare. "I'm afraid you're not going anywhere."

Blake and Sun crept in towards the sailors as the White Fang faunus retreated behind them.

"Oh no." the fourth one said.

Brief darkness was seen as two masculine screams were heard. The scene switched the trio on a nearby rooftop. Xanthe was cleaning the blood off his dagger with a black cloth as Blake and Sun stood nearby.

"Nice to see you again." Blake greeted.

He gave a dry smile as he put his weaponry away. "Same here."

"Hey, um, Xanthe? What exactly were the faunus talking about when they said that they hated each other?" Blake asked.

"And what's up with the green ribbons and owl feathers?" Sun inquired.

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?"

Blake looked saddened and confused. "Know what?"

"Long story short, Mistral's White Fang is having a civil war for power. The green ribbon-wearing loyalists want Maura Celandine to remain in power while the owl feathered masked Revolutionists want to help Athena Bruna ascend to power." the Noire Armada traitor elaborated.

Sun scratched his head. "A civil war? But if that's the case, then why would Adam, the Valeian leader, be here?"

Xanthe shrugged. "Beats me."

"He's probably trying to aid one of the sides in this war." Blake speculated. "The only question is which side is he trying to aid and why."

The monkey tailed faunus yawned. "Honestly, I'm too tired to think."

"Looks like it's been a long night for all of us." Xanthe told them. "I know we must part ways, but before you do, could I get your numbers? Just in case they fix the CCT tower at Beacon?"

"Seems unlikely, but I don't see why not." Blake said

They exchanged their scroll numbers and soon went separate ways.

Back in Mistral city, the trial had run late into the night. The guards insisted they try to get it finished in one night, thus making nearly everyone tired, from the gallery to the jury. Only the judge, Maza, Maura and a few gallery members were wide awake. Everyone else was mildly sleepy, very sleepy or in some cases, already fallen asleep.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" Bluebell asked.

The main juror yawned. "Apologies for the weariness, Your Honor, and yes, we have made a decision." Another yawn was made before clearing their throat. "We the jury find the defendant, Maura Celandine... guilty of all charges."

Maza looked down sadly. Maura was saddened, but not surprised. She knew calling Maza to defend her would be a long shot.

"All rise." Everyone stood up. "Maura Celandine, you have been charged guilty of all crimes and you will be swiftly sentenced to death."

Maza gasped as Maura looked on fearfully.

What? No! This... this can't be. Maza thought silently.

"I now declare this Court be adjourned. Thanks to everyone who came." Bluebell banged the gavel. "Now get this terrorist heathen out of my sight."

The people in the gallery started to leave the courthouse. Many exited and bid each other goodnight. From the ground, a binocular view of Lotus and Inigo was seen as they walked off. On the rooftop, Watts, kneeling down, put his binoculars away and looked at his targets with a smirk before leaving the scene.

Back in the courthouse, team CUBB stood as the trial ended. Judge Bluebell quickly took her leave as Maza looked sadly at the Mistralian White Fang leader. "Maura... I didn't ask for this."

Maura said nothing to her. She remained silent as the guards led her away. Maza looked on sadly as Maura was taken back to the prison. Turning away from her teammates, she shed a tear which slowly made its way to the ground. The courthouse had emptied save for them.

Carmina nudged her shoulder. "Time to go." She turned back to her teammates. "We can't stay here all night."

"Besides, we have an award to collect!" Ayress excitedly stated.

Maza's teammates quickly walked forward and she sadly trudged behind them.

Is there no justice in this world? she silently thought as they went forward.

As the trial came to an end, the heroic quintet were setting up their campsite somewhere in the outskirts of Vale. With his and Pyrrha's tent already set up, Jaune lit up the campfire as everyone got out their sleeping bags.

Ruby turned to the red-cloaked 'huntress' with a smile. "I can't believe that you fooled that Trojan Alliance captain in the card game."

The faux fashion model smirked and spoke in her best French accent, "What can I say? Rouge has a few tricks up her sleeve."

"Remind me, why are we camping out here when there's a village about three miles that way?" Nora asked, pointing behind them.

"It's too dangerous to stay in villages and cities associated with the Trojan Alliance." Jaune answered. "We were pushing our luck in Aquarian. And now that we have enough supplies to make it through the rest of eastern Sanus, we have no reason to stay in any of those places. We stay mobile."

'Rouge' nodded in agreement.

Nora grunted. "Fair enough."

Jaune yawned. "Man, I'm tired."

"It's a good thing Ruby's doing her guard shift first. Get some sleep while you can." 'Rouge' advised.

Jaune didn't need to be told twice. He immediately went into the tent.

Ruby smiled. "Looks like I'm up to bat again. Sleep tight guys."

"Goodnight." Ren said.

Nora bid, "Goodnight everyone."

"Sleep well." 'Rouge' told them.

The red-haired warrior crawled into her tent and found Jaune sleeping like a log. She tried to fall asleep that night, without much luck. Eventually, sleep did find her. The dream started with nothing but darkness.

"Turn back..." a female voice stated. "Turn back..." A silent pause. "Please... turn back."

The darkness cut to the kingdom border of Vale that she and her friends were at a few weeks ago. Her form appeared as a red specter of her old self, before the Fall of Beacon. She was no longer wearing her red mask, her fashion model clothing, and she didn't even have her red cloak with her. She looked at herself in her old outfit, seeing herself made of red light. She touched her right hand to her opposite arm.

I'm still alive... but what am I doing here?

She saw a green cloaked lady riding on a white horse. She stopped upon seeing a little green-haired girl with a crashed pink bicycle. Although a fully-grown Emerald was shown standing there, the rider dismounted from her steed and slowly approached the child, kneeling down to her level. The girl flinched in fright when the woman reached into her clothes and pulls out an apple, not realizing she's only offering it to empty air.

Emerald stood a few feet away from the oblivious heroine, scrunching her face up in determination and readying to attack by grabbing her weapons and sliding a foot back. The kicked-up dust was seen behind the girl even when the one who kicked it doesn't, and the woman gasped as the image of the child happily reaching for the apple suddenly disappeared. She dropped the fruit and leapt back quickly as the horse ran away, the woman ditched the cloak and pulled out her weapon, expanding the double crystal-headed staff to full length.

Amber? Pyrrha thought, feeling a cold chill wash over her.

She saw Emerald running towards her, guns blazing green shots, each of which were deflected against her hand. Amber twirled the spear around her body, kicking up the winds and blasting it towards her opponent, forcing Emerald to slide back.

The gladiator girl watched the scene worryingly.

"It's awful, isn't it?" a voice added.

Pyrrha turned to find an orange specter of Amber beside her, looking just like she did before her defeat at Cinder's hands.

"Amber?" Pyrrha looked at her in disbelief and quickly asked, "What are you doing here? What is this?"

As the image of the fight continued, Amber answered, "I came here to give you a warning. You need to turn back... before it's too late. You don't want to end up... like me." Amber's spirit told her.

Pyrrha turned and looked to see the past Amber floating in the air with a yellow-orange glow around her eyes. As the winds rushed around her, she threw lightning bolts at her opponents, who barely dodged them.

"How did this happen? You were so powerful."

As the footage of the fight continued, Amber answered, "I had only had my powers for three months. That's far less than a year. Power isn't always enough to defeat your opponents. They were smart, strong, and clever. And now Cinder Fall has the strength, smartness, cleverness, and the magical power."

The past Amber screamed and was held down by Emerald and Mercury. Cinder got on the glove with the Grimm beetle and approached Amber.

Oh no... Pyrrha thought.

"No, please... don't!" Amber's past-self pleaded.

Pyrrha looked on in horror as Cinder started to drain her powers. Amber's spirit slowly shifted from her warrior self to her injured appearance. But before Cinder could take all of her power, Qrow appeared and severed the connection. He held the unconscious Amber in his arms as Emerald blurred his perception to obscure their faces. Without hesitation, the trio made their hasty escape. Pyrrha watched as Qrow ran off to get Amber help.

Amber's spirit turned to Pyrrha. "I know you wish to face Cinder, but I believe that you are making a grave mistake." She stated. "I fear that with or without her maiden powers that she can't be stopped. "

Pyrrha looked at her with a sad yet sincere expression. "You're wrong. I can face Cinder and win. I'm not facing her alone. I tried that once and I failed. But I have four friends with me now. If Jaune or at least one of them helps me fight Cinder directly, we can beat her, and her two cronies will soon follow!"

"You may have your friends now, but will they truly be able to stop Emerald and Mercury? Even if Jaune directly aids you in battling Cinder, will he be there when you need him the most?" The red-haired warrior looked down sadly, wondering if she was right. "Please, I'm telling you. You don't want to do this."

Pyrrha stood her ground. "I have to."

Amber crossed her arms. "Why? For power?"

"I'm not going this for power. I'm doing this to set things right."

She scoffed. "Yeah right." Amber turned away. "Everyone looking for a maiden is always in pursuit of power!"

"But I don't want to be the fall maiden!" Pyrrha snapped.

The former fall maiden turned back to her. "Are you sure about that?" Pyrrha began to doubt herself. "The Maiden's power isn't a blessing. It's a curse. I thought I could handle the responsibility since I was given it from my successor, but I was horribly mistaken. I prepared myself to be the fall maiden for two years, but I wasn't ready to be ambushed. I thought that if I kept quiet about my powers I could protect myself. I was wrong," She held her hand to the injured side of her face, and the other to where Cinder had killed her with the arrow. "and look what it cost me. You don't want to do this."

Amber's spirit began to flicker. "Amber..." Pyrrha began.

She sadly looked at her would-be successor. "I must go. If I were you, I'd turn away while you have the chance. But the decision is ultimately up to you. However, if you find yourself on the brink of death at her hands, don't say I didn't warn you."

The spirit faded into orange light and the red-haired warrior woke up. She was no longer Pyrrha, but she didn't feel like was the person was pretending to be. Even with the mask on her face, she felt vulnerable. The red-haired woman looked for Jaune, who was not there as he was on guard duty.

Her thoughts turned to Amber's successor, Cinder.

Do I really stand a chance against her? she thought to herself.