Nobody could have predicted something like this would happen. And nobody could have predicted the sheer horror and depravity that would soon befall the Schnee family.

After news of Willow's death reached the public, it was all anybody could talk about. How did she die? Was it an illness? An assassination? Or something even more sinister? Everyone in Atlas had their own theories as to what may have happened. Every printed newspaper, every media news outlet, had something to discuss about Willow's strange death. And it made sense why it was talked about so much. Willow may not have made as many public appearances as her husband and children when she was still alive, but she was still the matriarch of one of, if not the most powerful family on the face of Remnant. To hear that someone as influential as her died under mysterious circumstances that could not be explained? It was no surprise that both the public and the media ate that drama up. The White Fang in particular had a field day when they heard the news. Though the terrorist group claimed to have had no part in Willow's death, to them, one dead Schnee in the world was something worthy of celebration.

But it didn't last long. News of Willow's death faded away just as quickly as it rose into popularity. People moved on with their lives. The death of the Schnee matriarch soon became yesterday's news. Theories about her death were replaced with talks about the upcoming Vytal Festival. People still remembered, but they no longer talked or even thought about it anymore. It's a tragic fate, passing in your sleep only for your death to be quickly dismissed.

The children, however, did not forget. Their mother's death was still fresh in their minds, even after a majority of the population had moved on. In truth, they were grateful for that. They were constantly reminded of their mother's death, which had been practically shoved into their faces every day for the past few weeks. Willow was not the best mother, not by a long shot, but she was still their mother. And Jacques was the only one who didn't seem to care.

One night, Jacques came home from a business meeting later than usual. That was already strange in and of itself, since Jacques made it a point to always be on time. What was even stranger was what… or rather, who… he brought with him on that fateful day.

The children were called down for dinner. Upon filing into the dining room, they were met with a peculiar sight. Jacques was standing in the middle of the room, his back ramrod straight, and his arms crossed behind his back. Something was immediately amiss about him. He looked very… tense, for lack of a better word. His face was pale, his eyes were wide, and there was a forced smile on his face. Just the sight of it was… wrong. Jacques never smiled.

Standing next to him was a woman that none of them had ever seen before. Her jet black hair was tied into a neat bun. She wore a pearl necklace, red heels, and a white dress that was almost blinding to look at. She also wore white gloves that reached her elbows.

The woman was tall. Very tall. She stood head and shoulders above Jacques, and was probably around seven feet tall. Her face was… unnerving, to say the least. She had light skin that had no blemishes or defects to be seen. It was perfect. Too perfect. It seemed to have the same texture as plastic, even reflecting the light that was shining from the chandelier hanging above them. Her mouth had no lips, and it stretched from ear to ear. She smiled, showing off a set of brilliantly white teeth that seemed a tad too large to fit in her mouth properly.

And her eyes… Weiss couldn't even look into the woman's eyes without feeling some sort of primal dread deep inside of her. The irises were sky blue, and the pupils were pinpricks that stared into your soul. They were dead eyes. There was nothing behind them.

"Father… who is that?," Winter asked cautiously. It was clear that Weiss was not the only one who felt uneasy around their visitor. Jacques cleared his throat and nervously adjusted his tie. "Children, I'd like you to meet your new stepmother," he said with a slight tremor in his voice. The woman's eyes flicked towards him, causing him to flinch back. "Er, sorry. I meant your new mother," he corrected himself. Weiss felt a deep chill down her spine. No. This was all wrong. She glanced at her siblings, but it was clear that they were just as lost as she was.

The woman stared at them for an unnervingly long time. Finally, she spoke.

"Hello, children. It is very nice to meet you all." Her voice was deep and baritone, which caught everyone off guard. "I cannot wait to get to know each and every one of you. I can tell that you are all very nervous. Don't worry. I will make sure to fix that."

"Um… father. How did the two of you meet, if you don't mind me asking?," Whitley asked apprehensively. Jacques tensed up, his eyes quickly darting back and forth. "Oh, that… that is… um…," he stammered. Weiss could only stare at him, as though she was looking at a complete stranger. Jacques never stammered either. The woman slowly, methodically, placed her hand on Jacques' shoulder, which made him tense up even more. "Let us save the questions for later, Whitley," she said, the smile never leaving her mouth. "Why don't we have dinner first? I'm sure you are all starving. I certainly am." She laughed softly, and even that was unnerving to hear. It was too pronounced, too forced. "E-excuse me," Weiss stuttered, speaking out for the first time. "If you're going to be our new mother… then what should we call you?"

The woman focused her attention on her, and Weiss immediately regretted speaking out like that. She tried not to look away, even though she could not stand those eyes…

"Please," said the woman, smiling eerily. "Call me… Mother."