CHAPTER 9 - "Plutonian Shores"
February 20, 786 E.A
Beacon Academy, Kingdom of Vale
The Headmaster Ozpin paced back and forth. Through the centuries he had become used to people disappointing him, but seeing everything fall through his fingers still infuriated him.
He had spent years sharing knowledge and bringing people together with his teachings.
The whole system - the Academies - served the purpose of building bridges between Kingdoms so that eventually they'd stand together rather than against each other.
He wouldn't make the same mistakes as before - war and power would not bring the victory he longed for - stability would.
You were so used to this position by now - it allowed you to manipulate the world as you saw fit, so accustomed to the order you had established. Yet slowly everything began to fall apart. It didn't start today, of course, but the reflections of your mistakes surrounded you.
An unplanned meeting with his inner circle.
The all-too-familiar office atop the tower.
Glynda, ever so loyal and punctual, was already there, nervously tapping at the table as she glanced at her wristwatch.
Raven stood on the other side of the room leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, glaring at her.
"Don't try to sell me on this nonsense that you don't know where she is." - Raven shouted, her anger finally bursting as she smashed her fist against the table.
"Shouldn't you wait till the others get there before you start with the theatrics?" - Glynda said as she stared right past her. - "This isn't about you."
"See, you say this, yet you, too, know nothing. How about you stop pretending you are in control? You aren't the one with the power in this room, Glynda."
"Watch your tone or you will find out whether that's true or not."
Ozpin gripped his cane - this back-and-forth squabble had been going on for half an hour now.
"Ladies, please. We don't have time for even more division." - Ozpin said.
His inner circle has been cracking at the seams for years now. It was only a matter of time before physical in-fighting would start, as always.
Half of them wouldn't even show up now.
Do you ever wonder why does it always end this way? Salem told me you keep trying this again and again - surrounding yourself with your mooks, but they always disappoint you. Or is it that you disappoint them?
Ozpin stared at Raven.
It's been years now since he had welcomed the siblings into the fold, offering them a spot at the Academy, and then in his Inner Circle.
Ozpin had known of the Branwen family before - he knew what had happened in Mistral to them, but that was the first he had found out about the orphan twins - - young teens, robbing their way through Vale's streets, trying to survive.
He saw them gain a glimmer of hope as he welcomed them.
And then he saw the knowledge bestowed upon them slowly destroy them, till they became what they were now.
"Miss Raven, please, there's no need for anger." - Ozpin said. - "If we knew anything more we would have told you rather than tasking you two with finding her."
"If anyone should know anything it's you. You are the one that filled her head with all that Erlangshen nonsense, leading to her weird obsession, you arrogant fool."
"While I agree that Summer wasn't like this before, I don't think it's fair to blame Ozpin for this." - Glynda said. -"Everyone makes their own choices in life."
"Oh please. Remember how Summer used to be? All her rants about manners and decorum?" - Raven strode towards the window, opening it. - "And now she's a shell of who she used to be. Always ranting about Apeiron and questioning everything. The old her wouldn't go off the grid for months like this."
"And you are still as annoying as ever." - Glynda took off her glasses, throwing them on the table as she leaned back into her seat. - "Still a self-centered selfish brat."
"Glynda, please" - Headmaster Ozpin said, turning towards Raven. - "Where is Tai?"
He knew well that dumping the entire truth upon Summer Rose's shoulders was a mistake - the girl couldn't handle the revelations, her worldview warping according to them
"He's not coming. Decided to stay at home once again. Another headache."
Ozpin frowned.
Taiyang had been slowly growing distant ever since Team STRQ fell apart due to differences in opinion, but Ozpin couldn't shake the thought that something else had been wrong too.
"Either way, no for the last time I don't know anything. I and Qrow have been searching for her for weeks now. It's you two who didn't seem to care. Why is it suddenly such a big deal?"
"Because we are running out of time, Miss Branwen. And Miss Rose couldn't have disappeared off the face of this continent. We need to find her."
"You don't think I want to?" - Raven lunged towards Ozpin. - "What gives you two the right to interrogate me?"
"She's not on this continent." - a voice rang through the office.
A black crow flew in through the window.
Slowly, like a skipping record, the bird distorted and a man stood in his place.
So that's how it works? What did you do to them Ozpin? Just seeing him chance had given me a headache. And if Maiden powers react to that? Well, that can only mean one thing.
Qrow Branwen slouched towards his sister, stumbling along the way.
"Heya sis, don't be so angry. Ol' Oz means well" - Qrow said, attempting what he likely thought was a hug.
Raven took a step back.
"Don't touch me."
"Is that how you greet your brother now?"
"When he reeks of whiskey?" - Raven shrugged, taking two more steps back as she strode to the table taking a seat. - "Absolutely."
Back at the table, Glynda cupped her face into a palm, groaning.
"Are you drunk again?" - Glynda said as she put her glasses back on. - "Nevermind, what did you mean by not on this continent?"
"I tracked her down to Mistral. She paid a visit to our mutual friend in Nemea." - Qrow slouched to the table, slumping down in one of the chairs. - "Seems like she made some friends in Argus too."
"Seriously?" - Raven said. - "What would drive her to another continent?"
"What better way to find out what she wants than those freaks?" - Qrow took out a flash, - "Especially if she had run out of options."
"Silver Cult?" - Raven jolted up from her seat. - "Going to those lunatics is the last thing she should do!"
"It stings that she hasn't asked for your help, does it?" - Qrow took a hefty sip from his flask. - "Sure surprises me how you sure always end up taking her side now."
"Says you, hypocrite."
"Better a hypocrite than some morose melancholiac that can't let bygones be bygones." - Qrow snarled. - "How is that working out for you?"
"Pretty well, actually." - Raven placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. - "You know, I figure I could you in half from where you stand."
I see you have upgraded, dear sister." - Qrow took another sip from his flask. - "Never thought he'd give you that sword."
"If you haven't been a drunk, you would have it, you know."
"Well he shouldn't have pushed all of this on my shoulders then - why do you all think I am drinking."
"Because you are weak." - Raven slumped down into her seat once again, letting go of hte sword. - "All of us long since stopped expecting things from you"
"Raven, focus." - Glynda groaned as she turned her gaze towards Qrow. - "And you, Can you please stop drinking at least while you are here?"
"Don't lecture me, hag." - Qrow coughed as he quaffed Whiskey, emptying his flask in a few hefty gulps. - "Here, happy?"
"Pig."
Qrow shrugged as he threw his flask over his shoulder, the metallic sound echoing through the halls as it hit the ground
Ozpin could remember how they were back in the day - a hopeful team of healing souls, walking a new path together.
The twins were inseparable, and both Summer and Tai eventually melted too - even Glynda used to be their trusted ally.
Time had washed away all of that.
Now all of them were more than ready to tear each other's throats, sullen by the sands of time and the weight on their shoulders.
When did all of them go wrong? When did the bonds his friends had forged rust away?
The first step off track likely involved them finding out the consequences behind their newfound ability to shift into birds - the fine print that came with that ability and that position.
Children grow, sheltered from the world till the day the barriers give way and they are faced with an unfamiliar landscape beyond - burdened with knowledge of how small they are.
The more they know, the less they can be themselves.
Ozpin had lived for centuries, going by many names, living many lives - today he was Professor Ozpin, but before? Oswald,
No matter his efforts over the years, the result would always be the same.
"Oh yeah, mission thing. Where's the iron bastard this time? - Qrow said.
"The General is still in Atlas." - Ozpin circled them all as he meandered around the table. - "He expresses his regret, but he can't leave the project unattended."
Ozpin strode to the window Qrow had flown in through, gazing at the horizon.
Even this high up in his tower, he could still feel the ocean - not this ocean in front of him physically, but the one back then, the one that had nested in his mind for so long.
He still remembered the day he had welcomed General James Ironwood into his inner circle - the severity of the matter at hand had left the General shaken.
At first, all of them would underestimate the importance of the eternal struggle at hand - up until the point Ozpin would prove to them just what was at stake.
Then, they all would understand why the real scope of humanity's peril lay hidden from the masses.
The General was the same, but there was fire beneath his eyes - a conviction to see this through.
A man of war and order, he had served the Kingdom of Atlas for decades, sifting through the ashes of Mantle - it was only natural to consider him for this position, especially considering the real purpose behind the Atlas Project.
Even now Ozpin felt as if the General had been the only one still focused on the goal.
"I don't trust him." - Qrow rested his elbows at the table, clasping his hands together. - "Atlas folks just can't wait to stab you in the back."
"With all of Ozpin's secrets lingering around, it's only a matter of time." - Raven said. - "Look at us all, look at where his good intentions had brought us. No friendship forged could live through Ozpin."
"Miss Raven, you aren't always this confrontational, yet you have been taking shot after shot at me this evening. Did Miss Summer say something before she left?"
"She told me about the Cycle Resonators."
"The Resonators?" - Qrow said. - "What Resonators?"
"Ah, yes."
Ozpin still remembered the day when he had planted the idea of the Cross-Continental Communication Towers to the people in power.
The nations needed to be able to talk with each other - to avoid another Great War - but the Towers had another purpose too.
He couldn't let The Grimm spread further and the tensions within the population didn't suddenly subside just because the war had been over for decades.
You brought the Resonators - another piece of Narrative Technology - and replicated it, haven't you? A system to contain and repulse the Grimm particles from major population centers - not many people on Remnant know what technology lay inside those towers. The populace could be content, miring in a delusion that Grimm just stopped coming because everyone is suddenly happy. They didn't know the true price, the true sacrifice, that had taken to keep those Resonators running.
Raven strode away from the table.
"All of those speeches about Huntsmen and ideals and building a better world. Were any of them ever true?"
She drew her sword.
"Huntsmen and Huntsmenses, carrying themselves with pride as they build a better tomorrow." - Raven put on the grizzly Nevermore mask she had carried around as her eyes beneath it darted at Ozpin. -"How foolish was I to ever buy into your idealistic lies? It sickens me to even think about it - all you ever needed were sacrifices to keep the pyre lit."
Raven slashed at the air, the space in front of her parting, eerie red and black glow pulsating into reality.
A Menshen - an entryway to the space between spaces, a door between all other doors. Beneath its gaping maw lay the infinite darkness of the universe where all sense of time and space would lose meaning.
Only a few keys had remained in this land to open Doors like that and Raven's sword was one of them - a piece of the Narrative. And even after a thousand years of progress and development, not a single Kingdom on Remnant could make another.
To those who dared to enter the endless death within could make even furthest distances last less than a second - if the person were to survive the journey.
And that's where those masks would come in.
"I am going to Mistral to find her." - Raven said as she stepped through the portal. - "If she's involved with those fools, I just might have an idea where she might be right now."
Ozpin couldn't help but feel like the rift between them all had been growing wider.
Another cycle and yet the outcome would remain the same, no matter how he had approached the people that were to become his accomplices in this age.
The room froze as the illusion of time had ceased.
Silver Cult. That sure brings back memories, doesn't it? I only found out later who the assailants that night were and why they targeted us. You should remember - you were there - a valiant hero in shining armor, arriving far too late after the damage was done - as always. I should have known you had something to do with that too. You always do, you ignorant fool.
The world faded away, white noise encroaching upon all, erasing the illusion of space, as the figures in the room faded.
And Raven - it's nice to finally know her name. Isn't she just the greatest? She tried to rope me into her schemes once, you know, working against you. Guess loyalty is not on her list of priorities right now. But then again, your pawns do tend to turn against you, again and again.
The Headmaster stood alone in the empty void, wearing a thousand faces.
Yet you keep pulling strings, surrounding yourself with fools as you share your burdens, miring in hypocrisy. How many times have you danced this dance - watching them crack under pressure as years go by, gazing at them as they destroy themselves? You leave your companions behind - hollowed-out wrecks, shells of who they once were.
And in some cases, you even intentionally lead them to their deaths.
For the greater good, of course.
January 30th, 797 E.A
Somewhere
Cinder Fall jolted up, breathing heavily. Her eyes darted at the man in restraints sitting across her.
She studied his face as if waiting for the Usurper to show a shred of emotion.
Nothing - it was as if she was gazing at a ghost, a photograph - whether the man now calling himself Ozpin was awake or not, she could never get a read on him.
She turned her head towards Emerald
"It still baffles me - he speaks and moves." - Cinder said trying to even out her breathing. - "A familiar face, but it feels so uncanny to see him wear it."
"Familiar face?" - Emerald looked at her.
"The thing in front of us - he wears the body of someone close to me."
Emerald stumbled, trying to comprehend her words, no doubt.
"What? How is that possible?"
"Please. Even after I showed you the birth of Grimm. You should know better than to."
"This is still a whole new territory." - Emerald turned her head towards Ozpin. - "Feels like I had stepped into a sci-fi movie or something. Who is he?"
"You know the man as Professor Ozpin. Many do. They see a friendly face in him - a Headmaster of Beacon Academy. But that's not what's inside.
"Is he a Grimm?" - Emerald strode closer, staring at Ozpin's face.
Cinder rubbed her temples, the crown humming on her head.
Wouldn't that be simpler?
"I don't know, exactly. I think not. Grimm don't think and just imitates. He's something else. Salem wouldn't tell me much." - Cinder took a deep breath. - "I know he's ancient, possibly having lived for as long as she did. I don't know if lived is the right word, however. He is something that steals the lives of others. A parasite."
The headmaster grumbled, opening his eyes.
"Miss Fall, this is pointless."
Emerald recoiled with a squeal.
Cinder's eyes wandered around the room.
Salem has always been so selective with what she shared about Ozpin - just enough to pique her curiosity but not enough to progress.
Some kind of being that could jump from body to body and that likely lived for centuries. An immortal for some reason obsessed with the preservation of humanity and, more importantly, with a specific goal that Salem had alluded to.
How long had he truly lived? What was he? Cinder had no idea.
All she had known about him was the creature's role in the creation of the Maidens - of what he had stolen from them.
Before she had fought him that night, Cinder would have been willing to doubt Salem's stories.
But not after.
The way Ozpin fought - the things he did, the powers he manifested - denied what's humanly possible. He had used Aura in ways she had never witnessed before and his onslaught of attacks consisted of moves that each could have been called a Semblance of its own.
And it wasn't anything like a Maiden would fight - Cinder could glimpse something lurking in that shell, something impossible.
Yet Salem wouldn't budge, wouldn't tell her anything more. Everything that demon had done was a game to her - a game between her and him.
This meant figuring out what Ozpin is and how to hurt him would not only achieve Cinder's lifetime goal but would get her power and knowledge needed to go against Salem, had she needed to.
And she would need to - why wouldn't Salem betray her eventually?
Eventually, the time would come when Salem would throw her away just like other people in her life.
Taking revenge for her father's fate would in turn solve the problems of Cinder's future survival.
And then she would be free to live the life she wanted, all her ties to the past broken - no longer would she ever lose control of her free will.
Cinder watched Ozpin struggle - the restraints holding. His eyes darted around the room as well at what had been burrowed into his right ear - a black cube lay there, with a golden needle stuck inside his ear canal.
Cinder tapped her crown of thorns, smirking.
"This here is from Atlas. A neat little gadget. I think our friend here would know it by the name "Memento Mori" - an experimental prototype of what eventually became that neat little machine he used to transfer Maiden's aura to that idiot."
Cinder glared at Emerald.
"Turn it on. Let's go again."
Emerald stumbled back to Cinder, her hands shaking as she pressed the buttons on the metal crown.
"Unlike the big machine in the Beacon's vault, this little friend here can't do that - but it can probe someone's essence, their aura, reading their memories.
"Miss Fall, this won't help you."
"I want answers, you ignorant fool." - Cinder tapped her right temple with her finger. - "Once I have them, of course, I won't even need them to do what I need to do. The powers you so gracefully gave me will make do to end you."
Cinder gritted her teeth as the crown vibrated and hummed.
The Memento Mori Project was Atlas's attempt at creating a device that connects to the brain through one's auditory canal.
A small black cube - a transmitter.
A metal black crown - receptor.
Cinder's head threatened to split in half as if someone had put a saw through her brain.
But she wasn't going to stop.
She waited years for this.
From the day that Salem had come to her, whispering in her ear, she dedicated her life to one goal only.
She had studied everything from poisons to weaponry to dancing - four years dedicated to nothing but learning the forbidden.
She shed layer after layer of who she had been to chase after her target - to be able to do the things she needed to do.
Bonds, ideals, even her name - everything was disposable - she had sworn this to herself on the day she had made her stepmother pay.
Cinder Fall shaped herself into a weapon ready for any situation - a puppeteer who would be more than willing to use others and discard them.
Then she enrolled in Haven and her plan began - a carefully arranged house of cards being built - she recruited her pawns and she made deals she needed to make as the plan to destroy Ozpin's domain came together.
And she would find the being that had taken her father away condemning her to a life of suffering. She would dismantle the world order built on the lies and deception of a parasite.
She would gain the power she always deserved, tearing the world apart if she needed to as long as she could grip her happily ever after with her own hands.
She would burn to the ground the Kingdoms that let her down.
She had teamed up with the pale-faced demon for this very reason - waiting for her chance to get her hands on Ozpin.
Salem would have never let her do this - she'd merely would have let her ask questions Ozpin, at best - which would be useless.
Since she wouldn't give her what she wanted, it was only normal she would find the means herself.
Project Memento Mori - an experimental technology in the field of aura research.
A Receptor and Transceiver device - one user would connect to themselves and the other would bury itself in their target.
The Transceiver then would send signals back to the Receptor, allowing the user to probe the target's aura - memories, experiences - their very essence.
She had discovered it when she had been shopping for an accomplice for the virus she had used to bring Atlas military to their knees.
Atlas was big on Aura research for some reason and the Memento Mori project was their biggest stepping stone towards a breakthrough.
A breakthrough that would eventually evolve into the creation of artificial humanoid puppets, experimentation with aura transfer, and a variety of other marvels.
It had taken her a year to gain access to the people with the skills she needed. Even if she couldn't access the internal systems of Atlas Military, Cinder knew just how to get to the smaller cogs in the machine - to make them crack and give her everything they could.
She had gotten her hands on one of the devices when the ice cream idiot infiltrated the battleships at Vale.
Unlike the big thing under Beacon, those couldn't merge Auras, however.
Cinder stumbled, gripping the chair handles.
"Did the redhead idiot even know what you and your lot tried to do back then? Or did you bury the consequences in some longer monologue? Maybe you didn't even bother explaining to the esteemed Pyrrha Nikos what "not being yourself" would mean - what fusing auras would do to her?"
Cinder's eyes darted at Emerald, who looked unsettled - then again when didn't she?
"Aura is the closest physical manifestation to a person's identity, their soul - Salem, in fact, had called it "The Humanity's Code" and I would agree."
Sequences of numbers going on forever, ending at one's death.
"What would happen if you fused two auras? You should have a pretty good idea of what. Both of the originals might as well be dead. She wouldn't have been Pyrrha and she certainly wouldn't have been whatshername." - Cinder smiled. - "But you knew that, already."
Did the Usurper do something similar - fusing itself onto its hosts?
Ozpin stared at her - stoic just like the first day she had transferred to Beacon for the Festival.
He rattled his hands, trying to break free.
The Usurper was powerful - but even he couldn't undo the restraints.
He couldn't break even the simple police-use restraints designed for Huntsmen.
His Aura also hadn't fully recovered - even weeks later, but then again who could tell whether his Aura even functioned the same way human beings would.
One thing was clear though - for an Immortal he was still bound by the laws of the world, unlike the Maidens.
His powers, no matter how vast and impressive were still just Semblances and Auras and all the things humans would dabble in.
"But you were more than willing to pay that price, right, Ozpin?" - She whispered through her gritted teeth as her ears rang. - "Maidens are far too powerful to let them run around aren't they?"
"What is the point of this, Miss Fall? Manipulation? Self-satisfaction?"
Cinder wasn't surprised at his question - the Usurper of all people would know how this device worked - that the one interrogating would still need to guide and trigger the target's memories and experiences - hopping from one to the other trying to tie them together - a path towards their goal.
"Did the redhead even know that Amber viewed you as an enemy, Ozpin? That she had gone rogue, hiding from your clique, wandering the land as she attempted to use this power for good?" - Cinder ignored Ozpin's words. - "What would have happened had the birdbrain reached her first? Somehow, I have this sneaking suspicion the outcome would be the same with her stuck in that jar. Did you tell her that?"
"Miss Fall, I had no reason to." - Ozpin glanced right past her or maybe through her. - "We were not in the business of discussing what-ifs. And the reality we had to deal with was the one where you took Miss Amber's powers. That's all."
"But you planned for it, you gave him the orders - admit it!" - Cinder fumed right, leaning at his face. - "You just couldn't let even the possibility of one of them opposing you arise, right? Not after how it went the last time."
Ozpin flinched.
The emotionless patronizing vibe The Usurper had always would annoy her but her words seem to have given off the intended effect.
"Of course. What kind of leader would I be if I weren't able to plan contingencies for a variety of situations."
"You are not a leader. You are a trickster - hiding behind a curtain, offering false hope and safety - all while veiling your lies in myths and fairytales."
"Perhaps. A fleeting hope is still better than the bottomless abyss. Wouldn't you agree?"
"We'll see if you manage to keep that facade as we go through your memories, deeper and deeper." - Cinder said. - "And then, layer after layer, who you are will be laid bare."
The world around them faded to white, Emerald vanishing from her sight.
Cinder hadn't had the chance to try the Atlas Reality devices, but from what she had gathered, the experience was similar - being transported into another world, one made out of memories.
Ozpin had made a mistake allowing himself to be affected by her words - Cinder had found the necessary step forward into the past.
She would pinpoint the core of the being that had called himself Ozpin and then she would use her maiden powers to burn it out of her father - even if she couldn't save her father, she could at least prevent the parasite from doing that to others, spreading his hypocrisy as he lives on.
This was the only time she could attempt this - Salem was away, observing the tragedy that had struck Nemea, or was it Vale, or maybe Vacuo?
She had spent years chasing after this, even as far as selling her soul, and she couldn't let the chance slip past her.
Who cares? She's away and she won't be able to stop this.
"Time to see what kind of parasite you are, Ozpin."
In front of her writhed an ageless being.
"Now, Ozpin. Let's see what makes you tick - what made you the man that you are today."
The world around them melted, giving way to the grasslands overlooking a valley.#
February 20th, 717 E.A
Midhart, Kingdom of Mistral
General Osric stood on the cliff, overlooking the grand city, gripping a cane in his hand - the magnificent monolith of humanity took even his breath away.
Wind blowing in his face, he had stood like this many times before, overlooking armies and cities both.
He had led soldiers and drawn battle plans over the last few years, struggling to get the spiraling land under control.
He wouldn't make the same mistakes as before - even if it meant punishing those who would rather squabble amongst themselves, he would use all the power he had to steer the civilization back on the right path.
The worst thing he could do was to let hate take root once again.
Still, the city ahead embodied the potential he had wished them to achieve.
But, as much as it had made his heart ache, it shouldn't be there.
He had wasted far too many lives letting the world stray off its path.
In the south of Vale, the Neverlands were steadily growing, encroaching upon the farmlands - and one of the Resonators he had hidden in the Boundary Forest might not hold eventually.
This war had to end for the civilization to progress
In peace, in a few years, Remnant could likely learn to replicate the results of the resonators, if given a chance, but not while divided as it was now.
Osric hesitated - the mistake with the Third King had made him apprehensive about sharing the Narrative with humanity, but he had no choice now.
Humanity wasn't ready and might never be. The power that comes with knowledge would lead them to destroy themselves like they had done before so many times.
No wonder his Adversary reveled in the idea of giving them everything they wanted.
Still, he held out hope things would be different this time, no matter the cost.
The Great War had to grind to a halt and Humanity had to unite or everything would be covered in death once again, just like it had been back then, when he made his greatest mistake.
And for that, the magnificent visage of humanity's hope and dreams built in that valley had to vanish alongside its Creator.
How many Maidens did turn away from you over the years? You never figured out how to contain that power so why did you steal what wasn't yours to make this? Osric, the creator of Maidens, who were you really? Is Salem's tale right or have you got more to hide beneath those countless lives? Show me - show your mistakes and your weaknesses.
Osric still remembered the day when he and his inner circle had found the girl - the one chosen to be the next Summer Maiden.
The myths had called them the Horai - the Seasons, the embodiment of the cycle of all that lives - the Magic of the world given form
He knew better than that.
Even though they had long since grown beyond his control, he was still the one who had given the Maidens form.
Alas, not in the way he had hoped - the mantles of the Maidens would shift from person to person as if they had a will of their own, rejecting his control.
And sometimes they would end up with a woman like the current Summer Maiden.
From day one she had rejected his notion of non-interference - all it took was finding out the truth and she rebelled.
Her using her powers in the open on a scale like this threatened everything the Immortal had worked upon. Fear and paranoia gripped him that someone like this would have led his flock to perish.
She was a nobody before the Mantle chose her, just a beggar off the streets of Youdu. And that nobody, when given power, would build this city and carve this lush valley into the barren land with her own hands, giving shelter for her people, creating a city, and becoming their deity, their ruler.
The pantheon of gods and legends did a fine job in the early steps of civilization's growth - instilling virtues, teaching life lessons, and steering them in the right direction - but the downside of that was that the people would come to view the most powerful like deities.
Every single mythology, every single pantheon of deities held an unspoken idea that each Kingdom, each culture were the important ones, the unique ones, the only ones.
The Kingdoms had grown and made strides to reach the top, but the rifts between them kept growing - too focused on localized growth, too focused on the concepts of national identity - the same toxic hatred lingering beneath the surface as when the Third King had unleashed his campaign of hate.
In hindsight, it wasn't that surprising that it all led to the worst conflict since The Third Crusade.
He had seen this so many times before no matter the scope.
Even the brightest of humanity, when surrounded by hatred, would get tainted by it.
He was so tired.
Osric exhaled, letting go of his earthly worries.
A resourceful, smart, and insightful woman.
She took her stand, she made her choices - little did she know back then that the War they'd get enveloped by would destroy all of that.
This was the first time since the calamity that the civilization had seen a conflict of this scope.
The brutal battles, the mistrust, and the growing death toll - all of those things had led to the Grimm creeping upon civilization once more.
The Goliaths had re-emerged beyond the confines of the desert Kingdom's ruins.
The first Leviathan had been sighted in the oceans in centuries.
Vacuo lay in ruins - ravaged by Mistral's devastating ecological weapon, its land scarred for all eternity with a wound that may never heal.
The discontent within Mantle grew ever larger with each passing day - the Kingdom a single step away from devouring itself.
Mistral ran like a complex machine, yet beneath the surface, suffering bred suffering - and with a Maiden at their side and them standing with Mantle, the war would trudge along for years upon years to come.
Sure maybe some level of peace talks could happen, but by that point Mantle would likely fall apart, the continent of Solitas lost and the areas that the Grimm particles had turned into the Neverlands would claim even more of the surface.
He had let this happen for far too long, once again putting way too much hope in them.
The concentration of the Grimm kept increasing - way past the threshold.
And if this had gone on, the Elders would awaken once again and he had tried so hard to prevent the sinful remembrances of his past arise again.
A single Elder could tear a continent apart - an undying apparition unlike any of the Creatures.
Remnant wouldn't last that way - the outcome he had so desperately attempted to delay would encroach upon them all without him ever getting close to his goal.
Sacrifices had to be made if humanity were to see another day - something shocking, something sudden that would leave humanity face to face with death, realizing what's at stake.
Something that would make Kingdoms realize how incapable they are of surviving without cooperation and conversation.
Something that would make them want to pick up the pieces and move forward, rather than tumbling down into the ocean depths.
"It is done." - a voice echoed behind him.
Osric turned his head, hidden behind a plague doctor mask.
A young man - a faunus - and a woman - one of Aram's descendants.
Osric still couldn't stand what had happened to the Desert Kingdom - he should have known better, he should have done more to stop the hatred seeping through the lands.
He had sent them on a mission to set up Dust explosives all over Midhart's dams surrounding the Great Valley.
Messengers, Memory, and Thought, Travelers -many terms could have been used to describe the position he had offered to many people over the years.
A heavy toll was taken upon the chosen few to have eyes and ears everywhere - to ensure that no matter what transpires, it would reverberate to the ends of Remnant.
A reinforced concept of the Monomyth repeating through the eras - his trusted two at his side, all of them through history tied together by an invisible link only Osric could perceive.
But he couldn't just rely on them all the time - he had to solve the issue of how the Kingdoms communicated with each other, eventually.
Osric already had an idea in mind - an idea that would both solve that issue and help him with managing the profane presence of the Elder Grimm upon this land.
Would his messengers be no longer necessary then? Would he stop, would he not offer this to anyone else next time? Probably - he wanted to believe that.
"Do we have to do this?" - The woman said.
"Why do you always question him? Of course we do." - The man frowned, turning towards his companion. - "He decides and we execute."
"I am sorry, I did not know this was a dictatorship."
"It's not, but with the things we are dealing with you should understand why." - The man sighed. - "We don't have a choice."
"That's right. There is no other way. You both know what's at stake." - Osric said, turning his gaze back at the city. - "I suggest you two leave for now."
They didn't answer him - a flapping sound of wings followed instead and the duo was here no more.
More rifts, more division as knowledge and weight of the world tear people apart.
He stared at the cane in his hand.
He never wanted to fight a Maiden head-on - the powers that humanity had come to call Magic were way too strong even for him.
Magic - no matter how fictitious it had sounded that word did feel like a fitting way to describe the phenomenon - that which shouldn't be here having sway over things nobody should be able to change.
He couldn't wield the force most called Magic - it resisted his nature.
Despite the origin of Magic, anything even remotely touched by Apeiron, Magic would treat as the polar opposite.
The universe ran on fundamental rules understood by his kind, all of which comprised the idea of The Monomyth.
All Things Must Die - everything began with Apeiron and so everything would return to it in the end. This, one would call The Cycle - the repetition between life and the Death Itself.
As Above, So Below - everything was intertwined, the basic idea behind chaos being order within it. Thus anything that existed followed a set of rules established by a larger universe - nothing could change forms without reason, and everything was created from something rather than nothing.
The force Humanity had come to define as Magic broke both of those - it's why he was so fascinated with the idea ever since the discovery of Death Itself.
What he had become and what Magic embodied - that which denies and rejects reality and that which molds and accepts it - two forces mutually poisonous to each other.
Were you convinced this was the only way? Or did the Queen's use of her powers anger you? Was this a desperate attempt to save them all, or merely your fear that the path ahead would be all the more unpredictable? When you are so used to being in control, everything beyond your grasp must seem like chaos.
He took his stance, clutching his cane tight as he swung it as if slashing with a sword.
Despite his reservations about The Narrative technology and keeping it from the grasp of civilization not ready for it, he would never let go of this one piece.
The times Once Upon A Time held many wonders, and knowledge beyond the boundaries of the current world, and the tool in his hand embodied that idea - progress and science, rather than magic and mysticism.
The cane was part of the legacy of what had come before.
A tool to, even if only temporarily, sway the particles of Grimm - to influence the Death Itself into something resembling the visages in the user's memories, using the inherent attributes of Apeiron to mimic the physical reality.
This aspect of it had been mostly useless because the concentration of the Grimm would never reach the levels necessary for it to do anything significant - with the way things were for centuries, all the cane was good for was parlor tricks - sure it would be efficient in killing a Creature of Grimm and he could, maybe, theoretically, hurt a Maiden with it by concentrating the Grimm, but beyond that the cane was useless for him.
The Great War changed things - the negative emotions, the suffering, and the dying breaths echoed through the lands - anti-energy comprising the creatures seeped through everything, permeating the world. It was a warning sign that desperate measures were needed, but now also the necessary canvas for something a bit bigger.
The result still wouldn't hold together for too long, of course - the anti-energy manipulated this way would eventually disperse - but it should be enough to tear the city alongside those inside.
Even a Maiden should not be able to handle this extent of sudden hostile pollution.
If the Magic, as part of reality, could shape it, then The Grimm, as something from outside, could only mimic and reject.
The anti-energy concentrated in a single spot would take the form of the wielder's nightmare, its presence eroding everything before dispersing.
Once it is done, the coming flood will take care of the rest.
The overall balance of Grimm in the region would dwindle, the Maiden problem would solve itself and the necessary steps would have been taken towards the end of the Great War that had claimed tens of thousands of lives.
A necessary sacrifice.
He sure was lucky all the Maidens, whether they had gone against him or not, remained on the opposite side of his Adversary.
The skies darkened, answering his call.
A memory, a visage from one of the Elder Grimm took shape.
World Serpent - the writhing terror whose original form still lay bound in the darkest shadows of the land - a constant reminder of his sin.
The land itself shook as the confrontation unfolded before his eyes - a brief clash between a mere shadow that crawled from myths themselves and a force of sheer creation.
And, as the waters rushed in, a new page had been turned in the history of humanity.
Did you try something like this during Beacon's Fall? Were you hoping to maybe sacrifice everything squashing your enemies with trickery just so one of the Elders wouldn't wake? Or did you not have the time?
We have to go deeper.
Show me who you are, Ozpin.
Show me how to unravel the likes of you.
June, 430 E.A
Seer's Tower, The Great Kingdom of Vale
The Seer Osanna gazed out the window of her tower.
All she had wanted to do was to share her knowledge and uplift the people who had survived the ocean's descent upon them.
She never wanted this.
How did it all come to this?
Year through year she had guided this Great Kingdom towards enlightenment,
Thousands of years of knowledge, the schematics of impossible machines, the ideas that the current civilization could grasp - all lay in this tower of hers.
And now, The Third King of Vale was ready to throw it all away for the sake of petty superstitions and ego, butchering untold innocents in what he had dared call The Third Crusade.
The Third King of Vale used to be her friend years ago, just like the two Kings before him.
Osanna's hand brushed against cold stone slabs that made up her tower - for all her knowledge and wisdom, she was still bound by her mortal coil.
She had built this place as a beacon of knowledge, but through the decades she would come to realize that she had far overestimated humanity's will to be better.
Her thoughts wandered back to the beginning.
Osanna - back then Osias of Dark Forest - had built quite a reputation as a wandering mystic known all over the lands of King Mistral.
The tides of the calamity still sweeping over the land, he would wander between pockets of civilization traveling hermit using his powers to uplift those struggling for survival.
As a result, he had been named The First Seer by the Mistral's high and mighty just after the First Crusade pushed back the flood, reclaiming the continent of Anima.
Those were dangerous times.
Blood and tears were shed to forge the path for humanity out of nothing - magnificent spires of civilization built at the expense of necessary sacrifices as the foundation.
And he stood with them all at the front lines, trudging through the ravenous shores - his companions unaware of the reasons behind his drive.
The First Crusade, even though back then it wasn't called that, had begun the tale of Humanity once more - the first historical event since the Age of Ever After had dawned upon them all.
The remnants of what was all banded together, retaking the land from the deadly tides that had swept over it, erasing life itself.
Thousands died as they struggled against the creatures they had still called the Vaettir Asagrimmr back then - the beings of Asagrim.
Osias, and then Osanna, had long since made sure to bury those words as legends and fairytales arose from those days, but part of that title had proved too resilient - too embedded in the collective memory of humanity to disappear.
How could humanity forget the names of the calamity that almost had erased them all? No force in the universe could twist the sheer collective trauma experienced by civilization itself as it regressed.
And thus the Creatures of Grimm remained, as myths and tales spread through time.
The First Seer made sure the heroic struggle for survival would shape the coming generations.
Anima the Evermother, King Mistral, and the Everforge, the fight against the calamity that had flooded the world - the gods and deities - mere shadows of the people who had lived and died to make it possible,
All children since that day would know those names - the myths as the answers to questions asked on the world they lived in had been called Remnant.
So you did know the people behind those names? Interesting. She did mention them. She also told me they'd likely despise you - that you had taken real people who had perished for their hopes and dreams and molded their remembrance into props to rebuild the world with.
The Seer turned away from the window, her eyes scanning the looted and pilfered abode.
Where did it all go wrong? What was the defining moment she had lost sight of the path ahead of her?
When the mission to cross the seas came upon them, Osias didn't hesitate - the goal of undoing his sins burning hot in his heart. As Osias burned during the violent struggle with the seas, his shell perishing in the maws of one of The Leviathans, Osannan's time came.
The Seer arose anew among the colonists having left the land of Anima - a young countryside girl who had suddenly developed talents and knowledge far beyond possible - despite being a woman, she soon shone brighter than her peers, pushing back against any prejudices that lay in her wake.
No matter which identity she had been through the years, The Seer had never been tied to the concept of gender - she saw it as an outdated concept - a needless boundary - even before the calamity had changed everything.
Through centuries, the idea had grown even more pointless to her - just another wall of division.
The Second Crusade that had followed years later was a necessity too - having arrived in this new continent the surviving locals had called Sanus.
She had never expected humanity to survive beyond the Eternal City, but they did - pockets of civilization persevering against dark tides.
Yet that wasn't enough - they needed to unify the Kingdom under a single banner if they were to hold off against the waves of Grimm, rather than squabble divided among the tribes.
Just like Mistral's land became the city-states, it was time to rebuild civilization to move forward in a more organized manner, even if it meant forgoing pleasantries for now.
Eventually, under her watchful gaze, history forgot that people had already been here before - all of them eventually assimilated under one ruler as their children's children only knew of the Great King who had come and swept away the remaining calamity.
The First King of Vale passed and she became the adviser to his son, who would last another thirty years.
In hindsight Osanna knew this was a wrong decision - the memories of her past and the knowledge of the history of what had come before should have told her that nothing good can be built off the foundation of conquest and colonialism - the people back Once Upon A Time had paid a heavy price to learn that as their sun had become their moon.
But she did nothing - too enamored with the civilization rebuilding right in front of her eyes.
Then the Second King would pass and the Third King, his son, would rule.
And now it was too late.
Any civilization would eventually stagnate or face severe roadblocks, threatening to regress into barbarism.
And so after a few extremely hot summers, the Great Kingdom of Vale had been starving for months now.
The third King had surrounded himself with luxury, throwing feasts for his nobles, having grown despondent and disillusioned with his family's ideals. He rarely had heeded her advice now.
Meanwhile, the public grew restless. The Third King had needed a scapegoat to shift the blame toward.
In came the Kingdom across the desert sands - a bustling oasis fortress thriving off the trade routes between Vale and the newly discovered Kingdom of Vacuo.
In hindsight, the goal of her egotistic King should have been obvious to her - who would have been a better target to redirect the citizens' fury than the people ushering in a utopia, with a darker complexion than the people of Vale no less.
She should have known how convenient hate would be to tyrants.
And thus, per the Third King's words, they had been labeled vile demons - having cursed Vale's crops and wished the true successors of humanity ill.
Instead of reacting Osanna was still too enamored with what her efforts had built, blowing off the rhetoric as a mere manifestation of her friend's ego.
Too late she had realized how well those words had resonated with the common folk.
Too late she had realized The Third King of Vale had every intention of going through with his promises of squashing the Evil In The West as he had called them.
She should have known how deep hate can run, how alluring it could be.
And now she stood there in her chambers - stripped of her tools - the pieces of the Narrative that she had kept with herself.
She glanced at the torn-apart papyrus schematics on the floor depicting impossible machines.
The Narrative Technology - back in the days of Once Upon A Time, mankind had built tools beyond comprehension - lingering pieces remained in this land even though Catastrophe had wiped it clean.
The Forge of Nemea, the ruins beneath Youdu, the sword that can open the Menshen portals, and a few others.
She never should have left those things where they were - while she couldn't take apart the massive megastructures the humanity had built their nests around, Osanna should have locked the others up - she should have controlled them, she should have made the information about them fade into the annals of history.
Centuries of rebuilding and growth had made her forget just how destructive Humanity could be - even with her Adversary nowhere to be found they still knew how to hurt and to kill.
Osanna had thought too much of the Humanity that had survived the impossible odds, blooming once again - if they had been a flower, it would have been a poisonous one.
She won't make this mistake again - next time she descends upon this land she will do things differently, The Narrative won't come into their hands unless she explicitly decides to let it happen.
Tomorrow this shell she had inhabited will perish in an execution - a show of force meant to rally the Third King's men as they ride into the desert to tear that Kingdom apart.
How will it take this time for her to re-emerge as a suitable host? Days? Months? Years? Decades?
She could only hope it was all worth it eventually - despite the mistakes one day all those nurtured pockets of civilization would flourish, bringing humanity closer to what it once was - and her closer to the wish that lay just out of her reach.
Osanna laughed.
Here stood a trickster, a tyrant, a villain - now willing to do anything to save humanity from the inevitable.
Next time would be different.
No longer would she rely on the overblown sense of pride or an ego of lone men leading the masses.
There was a reason why all civilizations eventually would move away from that as they grew.
As the clock counted down towards her demise, Osanna hoped she could rebuild Vale again next time - the right way.
For someone so obsessed with the Cycle, you sure keep getting stuck in one!
How many Kings did you groom over centuries? How many kingdoms did you help build, only to see them break apart?
Despite you leading different names, bodies, and lives - all of them have converged onto the same outcome.
In a few days following your passing, the armies of Vale would march onto the desert kingdom of Aram.
As the night fell upon them, The Third King of Vale would then use your tools to breach the walls of that oasis Kingdom - staining the land with blood - the violence tainting the land with Grimm for centuries to come.
Through the years of terror that followed, The Third Crusade - the only mark remaining of the Third King's reign - would solidify as something synonymous with terrible atrocities and evil that lay within humanity - the fallout from which would scar Vale for centuries as you shaped the remnants of the kingdom into the Vale it would become.
Yet to this day that desert oasis lay empty, the pillars of the kingdom - broken. The Grimm have long since dried out the waters and greenery there, apparitions wandering the ruins of the once mighty city - the actions of your King would lead to the emergence of the first recorded appearance of The Neverlands in Remnant's history - a forever tainted black patch that would, with Great War, spread towards Vale, eventually dooming Mountain Glenn too.
And to this day the words "The Third Crusade" persists in the minds of humanity, even if many had forgotten their meaning - the downtrodden applying the term for atrocities of humanity instead. Why do you think the faunus have co-opted that term to describe the persecution and slaughter unleashed upon them? Isn't it fascinating how two concepts that had stood the test of time the best ended up being the ones you would rather they have forgotten?
How ironic is it? Your mistakes would gift me an in so close to you to tear your city of lies apart.
To this day, the children of that desert Kingdom still wander the land as they witness humanity, who have mostly forgotten their sins, fixate on yet another "evil" - The Faunus - just for being different from them - although this time not because of the color of their skin.
Why do you keep trying? Vale, Glenn, and even Atlas.
What drives the Ageless so obsessed with the Monomyth?
Show me your roots.
Show me your beginning, so I can see your end.
0
Ash clogging up your throat, burning - that was the first sensation that welcomed you back to this world.
You stood up, hands touching your face.
Are you alive?
Memories danced inside - foreign, strange, alien sounds and images that screamed at you - this was who you were.
The shapeless faces, the names, the titles - they all felt so distant as if you were gazing at a photograph of a long-dead stranger.
Well, you were, just like I lay my eyes upon you now.
The consequences of your sins had robbed you of your life, yet here you stood.
Everything had burned inside until only an echo was left.
Death has swallowed everything here - lives, achievements, newborns' gasps of air, and the sight of the future their eyes never got a chance to lock on to.
As you gazed upon the sea of ash and fog - a primordial ocean of cities, civilizations, animals, friends, and allies - you could only name it a single thing - sorrow.
The feeling wasn't unfamiliar to you - it led you through your life and for eternity it will be your sole companion.
So, why were you still here?
Everything you had done long since turned out to be a mistake.
How long did you stand there taking in the sights of destruction, of calamity? Did time even hold any meaning to you at that moment?
Soon you would look at your hands realizing that you are no longer who you were.
Understanding would flood you - the eternity you were cursed with held a terrifying price.
Whether you have wished for it or not, you have succeeded as you failed.
Everything burned until just your sheer essence remained.
The Code of Humanity, The Reason, The Origin - something that would transcend brainwaves or DNA.
They'd come to know those concepts by another name - Aura and Semblance.
They'd take them for granted as something that always existed yet you knew better. Humanity had only found them after they had seen the End of All Things so many times as to grasp the meaning behind Death Itself.
They had known this since the days of Emerald Tablet, maybe earlier, but it had taken them so much time to discover the truth.
You lost yourself to the endless entropy of the universe, in turn becoming something more.
You were a ghost, but not a ghost - an ego, an identity so strong that it had persisted through Death Itself and sought new life within those still living.
Memories whirling inside, you couldn't even hear yourself anymore - your soul no longer reflected in your thoughts.
No wind blew around you here, the sea of ash shifted, laws of physics breaking apart - a calamity that had been unleashed upon the world.
Deep inside, in those alien memories, there was a moment you kept coming back to now - the day that you made your vow.
This was your fault. This was your doing. This was your mistake and your sin.
You broke through, you reached out and you betrayed.
You attempted to end the Cycle, yet only ended up continuing it.
Back then you would wonder whether this would have always awaited you at the end of the road. Maybe some different choice would have led the world to a far brighter path. You would agonize over each decision you had made as everything fell apart around you.
Once it had ended, all of that had become only a memory, no not a memory, a recording.
Through the years you would come to recognize it for what it was - a petty conflict grasping for the unknown had ended the way it all would always end.
Your throne lay shattered in the sky as death flooded the world.
You have changed since then, of course - the images I see around you will stay with you forever, defining who you are.
Your friends, allies, even enemies - all gone.
Brilliant spires reaching for the stars - rusted away into nothingness.
The mountains had crumbled to the sea floor, the grasslands had burned into the deserts and the deserts had turned into glass.
All that was before - the infinite vast history of humanity - now nothing but a speck of sand against the vast universe.
The infinite, endless, frozen moment that had given birth to a new world, new hope.
Through the years, through countless identities, this would crawl upon you again and again
Sometimes you would have been sitting comfortably in a seat befit a king and sometimes a cold wet pavement would welcome you as you begged for just a bit of bread.
And sometimes it would greet you as you lay dying on the battlefield as you greeted this memory like an old friend.
The knowledge of how pointless life was haunted you at that moment and ever since.
Everything would end, everything would die.
No matter how hard humanity tried, no matter how far they'd run, no matter how bright they'd burn - the fire would go out.
You didn't want this, you didn't want this, you didn't want this.
Eons of humanity's struggle shouldn't have been worthless - your friends and enemies' hopes and dreams shouldn't have been worthless.
They were gone, but you were here, so, maybe, just maybe, their ideals could survive.
And so you made a new vow in that moment.
Your enemies would become heroes and myths of this new world as you played against this Adversary you had discovered from your betrayal.
I can't hear you say it, just like you can't hear your own thoughts anymore.
A vow to watch over the Remnants of the Old, to nurture that which had begun anew.
As you made your vows, it was the first time you had laid your eyes upon that city that couldn't be.
A corpse of a city, a hungry city, a city that didn't exist and was never built - a reflection of civilization within the endless void of Apeiron.
Those buildings weren't man-made monuments of the past nor tombstones to lives lost.
The city would defy common sense - doors and windows at impossible angles, stairs going in circles, streets that would choke the life out of those who try walking through them.
Logic ceased within the vision.
This wasn't built, this wasn't created, this wasn't imagined - just white noise screeching through the void, wanting to be made whole.
Death hasn't swallowed anything here - because none of this ever was, just an echo reflected at you.
The City was Hungry for life, possibility, and hope, but you couldn't offer it any.
There were many things you'd want to ask this place had it understood you, but it was too late for that now.
The boundary lay broken or maybe it had never existed - you merely had just invited that which was outside.
All things must die and everything returns to nothing, thus everyone had already been connected to the empty beyond even before you had taken your first breath.
The end had been entwined with reality from the very beginning and your little conflict merely lit the way - your ego had given that which isn't form.
But that was fine, you repeated to yourself - you would fix this, you would atone for your sin, you would rewrite the rules, you would give civilization a redo.
No matter how long it would take.
Meanwhile, through the years many would see this visage of the city - a harbinger of change within.
And to those who did, Magic would become their fiercest enemy.
So what were-
"Miss Fall, I suggest you stop, before you hurt yourself."
January 30th, 797 E.A
Somewhere
Waves of nausea coursed through her as Cinder Fall jolted awake.
Screaming in frustration, she gripped the crown, pressing the button to override the failsafe.
"Maybe this isn't a good idea?" - Emerald said.
"You don't get to decide that. I need to know!"
Soon the surroundings once again faded around her.
The essence of Ozpin - where was it? How did it come to be?
She was so close to discovering the truth, to find the details of what had created him and thus gaining an upper hand against both the Usurper and the Demon.
How did the being that stole her father's body come to be?
Midhart, Beacon, Aram - all those memories kept spinning in her mind once again, yet that wasn't what she longed to see.
Those were just lives he had stolen - not the end and not the beginning of his journey.
One shouldn't start in the middle of the story.
If she knew how he had begun, she would know how he would end.
Any information, all information was important.
"Show me the real Ozpin, the real parasite, the real usurper behind all those curtains, all those masks!"
If she could find the beginning of that entity, she could likely find a way to tear it apart, if it's possible to even kill it.
Her father's body won't be puppeteered by some fake wizard behind the curtain.
The World won't be.
The clock ticked backward through the years, Cinder hopping through the memories she had already experienced.
Eventually, she had, once again, found herself at the end of all things.
"Show me before, the next step - show me what came before this?"
Her head hurt her brain threatening to leak through her ears.
"Show me!"
She was drowning in ash, in fog.
And then, only ash remained.
Cinder opened her eyes, but she couldn't see.
Instead to her came an understanding, like truth.
A war - one without semblances or magic or auras - yet one she couldn't comprehend.
Flashes of light erased the horizon, magnificent colossi looming over the stars.
Great civilizations reduced to remnants of who they once were.
The sun breaking apart, its heat and light enveloping all, till nothing was left.
Nothing but the moon - shining brightly in the sky, emanating a sickly purple hue, golden veins stretching through its surface, shining upon the land.
Something new, something remade - the moon, Io, before it had been broken by the calamity.
In front of her, remnants longed for life, to rebuild.
Within those eons, sifting through the sands of time there emerged a man who would become Ozpin.
Yet the waves enveloped everything, the cycle continuing anew, again and again - death lingering persistently.
Dark void. Emptiness. Nothing.
Cinder stared at herself in front of her staring at herself in front of her.
Shivers ran down her spine as she was overcome with the feeling that something lingered behind her too.
Shaking, she turned around.
Ozpin.
Was it Ozpin?
No, it was life expanding through the universe - unbound, unafraid of death it had conquered. Eventually, it would consume everything that existed - reality becoming one.
Life was as terrifying as death.
This awaited the universe had nothing bound life and civilization.
Vast endless void encompassing untold eons of knowledge and experiences - emotions of endless lives rushing through, washing over her.
He had shrouded himself in them - those faces, names identities.
All so he could cure death itself one day.
A plague doctor - he stood in front of her, growing, advancing, getting closer.
The air grew heavy, as heavy as a thousand-year-old soul.
Nobody was here.
Her eyes darted around, but only vast emptiness greeted her.
Dead stars and collapsing suns, withering light and burning worlds - infinite possibilities long since snuffed out.
Empty, it was all empty - everything above was so empty and devoid of meaning.
And then the matter itself crumbled, devoured by gaping maws of the universe which not even light could escape.
The infinite gaps of the universe - the darkness that connected reality would be the only thing left
She couldn't breathe.
She couldn't move.
The empty Void Above pressed upon her, breaking her into dust.
This was the game between two beings, between the lust of life and absolute certainty that all things must end.
Not deities, but not quite human either - not anymore.
They were there before the age of Once Upon A Time came to grinding half, making them what they are now.
"Who are you?!"
Before her stood a being that was once human yet was human no more. - a shade, a ghost a photograph - unbound by the darkness that surrounded the universe.
He bore many names, and he wore many faces, so what lay beneath those masks?
Nothing.
A helping hand. A golden cage.
An immovable wall against the tides of time.
He would live a thousand lives, likely more.
Not a Human, not a Maiden, Not a Grimm.
The one who had conquered death, the one who had overcome the limitations of his shell.
A soul, an aura, persisting forever more.
An Arahant - One of a Kind.
The impossible endgame of humanity striving for perfection, of Semblances evolving, had they not been bound by laws of time, the finality of death.
He was the perfect stillness, the unchanging constant that had gripped the world in the palm of his hand.
Eventually, all would return to nothing.
The stars would fade and the last lingering head would leave this realm, enveloping all in silence.
But He would Remain.
Even if All Things Must Die, he would not.
She couldn't describe his visage.
She couldn't experience his thoughts.
She couldn't comprehend his meaning.
She wanted to cry, she longed to sob.
Why couldn't she?
Thunder enveloped her - a voice echoing, gnawing at her very soul like the vast emptiness of the universe swallowing her whole.
Cinder Fall screamed, her voice cracking.
She gripped the floor, digging her nails in till they bled, trying to ascertain the reality around her.
"Hey are you okay?" - a familiar voice echoed somewhere above, amidst the ringing waves of cosmos.
As the blinding darkness subsided, she could see the face.
"Emerald?" - Cinder shook. - "I am okay, you fool."
Cinder attempted to grasp the crown on her head, but her fingers couldn't find anything.
Instead, they touched melting hot ash around her head on the ground.
How did she end up on the ground?
"What happened?"
"You screamed and then you flew backward, hitting that wall as you faceplanted into the ground. And then you screamed again. It was weird." - Emerald turned her head towards the wall as she spoke before once again looking at her. - "Hey you sure you are okay?"
Cinder struggled to get up, pushing her away.
"Yes, I am fine. It takes far more than that to kill me."
The world spun around her.
Cinder gazed at the wall Emerald stared at when she explained what had happened - the cement having crumbled, the bricks beneath cracking.
Her eyes darted at the ash in the ground - the device having disintegrated completely.
The dripping water from the valves still echoed.
Everything was fine. Everything ended up fine. She couldn't get what she wanted, yet she knew more now. She knew what to do.
She took a deep breath and then another.
And another.
She had returned to reality yet she could still hear the deafening silence of the universe gnaw at her.
"I applaud you for your conviction, Miss Fall. You are a strong and capable woman."
A familiar voice echoed, yet this time instead of annoyance, she felt chills down her spine.
She whirled towards the direction of the voice.
Ozpin smiled, his eyes locked with hers as if consoling her for her mistakes.
His nose was bleeding, but he smiled.
"It is sad that your role model had led you such a dark path."
"She's not my role model."
"Really? Miss Fall, then why do you speak like her? A habit perhaps?"
Cinder shivered.
The Usurper terrified her, made her blood run cold, and her bones freeze.
Was she afraid of him? Her eyes saw a friendly, wise man, yet her mind screamed from an incomprehensible presence lingering in the room.
There was no way to end him, no way to stop him - Salem didn't just want him alive, she couldn't kill him even if she tried to.
Lucien, her father was truly gone and there was nothing she could do to avenge him.
Even if she were to kill the Usurper now, she would just doom someone else.
And Salem would kill her then, instead.
But, no matter how much this had shaken her, she did find out something she could use - a direction she could take to bend all of the world to her will, to make the Kingdoms pay for their hypocrisy.
"Just what is going on here, dear. Can you please, explain yourself?"
Cinder froze as dread filled the room - the emotion made manifest.
Salem.
February 15th, 797 E.A
Nemea, Kingdom of Mistral Territory
She flipped through the TV channels - all of them focusing on the exact same thing.
The Great Nemea Fire was what they called it to the public - an accident at the Everforge resulting in the majority of the building and the infrastructure melting on the spot. Eventually, it had powered down and the city had switched over to the dust generator stations all over. The factories had ground to a halt for now too.
Some local channels had blamed neglectful workers, while others chose the more convenient culprit in the White Fang - all depending on which noble houses had financed the station.
Ruby threw the remote onto the coffee table, leaning back on the couch as she stared at the ceiling.
It had been over two weeks now since the chaos at the Everforge - since the day their two friends had vanished in fire and smoke.
Right after the tragedy they had found refuge in Cyanea Nikos's abode, taking up the space in the guesthouse - her late friend's mother had approached them herself appearing in the inn.
Just in time too as the police raided the place right after they left.
Ruby couldn't get used to this place - anything she'd touch, anywhere she'd sit, she would feel as if she were about to break everything around her.
And once she'd closed her eyes? Well, there was a reason why she hadn't slept a second in the last few days.
Instead, she'd spend her evenings flipping through the TV trying to keep up with what has been going on in the city.
Ruby brushed her hand against the hair as Nora walked into the guesthouse.
"Anything? - Ruby said.
"Nope." - Nora shook her head. - "Pyrrha's Mom had her peeps do a sweep again - there's no trace of anyone matching their description in the city."
"They said on the TV that the fire is finally out."
"The news doesn't show it, but, like, there's a big empty hole where the Everforge Hall should be." - Nora slumped down on the couch next to Ruby, her expression sour. - "Chairs, corpses, everything had disappeared, melted by whatever happened."
"We don't know if that's the case." - Ruby said without breaking eye contact with the ceiling. - "The fog is weird and it did it before to us."
She knew how insane the idea of the duo possibly having been spirited away sounded - she would have thought so too had she not experienced it.
"Nora?" - Ruby turned her head towards her friend. - "You sure you don't remember anything more that could help?"
"Nope. It's like a dream - the longer it goes, the more I forget stuff."
Ruby recalled the description of the visions Nora had given them - the weird city, the weird man on the cliff, the caverns.
The last time they had been dropped into the caverns, but the whole place had crumbled just behind them in the end.
Cyanea's men had spent a week there finding no possible entrances or signs of life - whatever had remained down there, with the weird case retrieved, had fallen apart into nothing - the pillars possibly having kept the place intact somehow.
I keep getting involved in weird adventures straight out of fantasy books - the kind of stuff I'd dreamed of before. Yet it doesn't feel as exciting or as fun in the real world. Maybe fairytales really do need to stay in the storybooks?
Ruby brushed her hand over her hair - every morning since the events in the Forge, the few gray strands would greet her in the mirror.
"The hair thing's weird, right? That can't be good."
"I don't know, Nora. I don't know what this means or how it works."
"What will you do?"
"I want to go to Argus."
"Ruby?"
"Pyrrha's mom said we should leave as soon as possible anyway." - Ruby bolted from the couch as she paced back and forth. - "She says she doesn't know what will happen next so things could go real bad and when Argus is the first clue about my Mom and the Eyes in forever and if I let that chance slip away I-"
"Ruby, breathe."
Ruby gripped the corner of the couch, digging her fingers into the leather.
They were useless in Nemea - they couldn't even leave the premises of Nikos's household for now
Things weren't okay - they weren't good at all.
Oh right, the ethnic cleansing stuff. How easily did I forget?
The military technology, the worsening relations between huntsmen and citizens, the Faunus discrimination - all things were about to boil over in Mistral.
She had seen things spiraling out of control in Vale - the terror and uncertainty seeping in that everyone did their best to ignore.
Was her life just a series of repeating patterns?
Ruby's eyes focused on the sound of the steps coming from the entrance.
"The smithy notified about a delay." - Ren said as he strode into the room. - "It will take a few more days before things are ready."
Ruby stared at him and then at Nora - she could see both of them tense up.
"If we are to heed Cyanea's advice, we should be ready to go the moment it's finished." - Ren turned towards Ruby.
"Do you, do you guys think it will go as badly as she thinks it will?" - Ruby said. - "About how unpredictable the Kingdom's future will be?"
She reminisced of what her late friend's mother had said - that the situation in Nemea was growing worse with every day.
Instead of two equal sides locked into a standstill - the nobles, the Council of Nemea, the Council of Mistral - every structure of power now had harbored more and more of those who would take Viola's side in most matters.
Which meant that change was brewing in the Kingdom - anything could happen.
There was no way to know where Mistral would go as a Kingdom.
"It will take Viola and the likes of her a bit more time to consolidate power if anything." - Ren said. - "But once she does? It will get very unsafe to be a Faunus in the Kingdom of Mistral."
"I don't get it." - Ruby said as she sat back down next to Nora. - "Why do people go along with something so cruel?"
"Power."
"Some people suck. What are we, surprised? They burn people for fun." - Nora shrugged. - "It makes sense that the ones swayed by Jaune's swanky speech, and thus killed, would be more empathetic ones."
Ren slumped onto the chair opposite of them.
"So, what do we do next?"
"Ruby suggested we go to Argus."
"Makes sense. We can't stay here. But what about Jaune and Neptune?" - Ren leaned forward. - "We can't just leave them either."
"There's nothing we can do for them right now." - Ruby said. - "We can't run around the continent looking for them either."
"We could maybe check out the Lake again on our way to Argus." - Nora said. - "Kulhara is along the way. Not sure we'll do better than gazillion mooks Pyrrha's mom sent, though."
Ruby gritted her teeth.
"What about Neo?"
"The girl? I asked Harmony folks but even they don't know anything." - Ren said. - "So she likely escaped."
"She will be back. She won't stop. She will keep going until she gets what she wants." - Ruby fidgeted with her fingers. - "You guys will be in danger as long as you are with me."
Ruby still remembered it clearly - the fire in the girl's eyes, the ferocious anger she had lunged against her, wading through an entire crowd of trained soldiers to reach her.
She had seen those eyes in the mirror.
Ruby knew how far Neo would go - because she knew how far she'd go to get to Cinder.
Eventually, that girl will try again.
"We aren't going to let you face this alone, Ruby. There's no guarantee she wouldn't still target us one by one just for having known you. We have more chances staying together."
"Yeah, Ruby. Things might be messy, but we are still your friends."
Ren stood up, stretching his limbs.
"So Argus it is." - Ren strode back to the entrance. - "I'm tired so I'll go. You guys should get some sleep too. The coming days might not be as calm."
"Ren." - Nora jumped from her seat. - "Please, I-"
"Nora. Stop." - Ren interrupted, turning his head back towards her. - "I know. I know you are sorry and that you feel guilty."
"I never wanted this."
"I know that. I just don't know what to think right now, I'm sorry."
Ren slouched forward before once again stopping.
"Remember when we escaped that cavern? How we both swore to look to the future instead and be more open about our worries?" - Ren gripped the door frame. - "And yet you have carried this huge secret all this time, clinging to it until life literally forced you to spill the beans."
"Ren…"
"Now that? That hurt more than any mistake, real or imagined." - Ren shook his shoulders. - "And I still need to process everything. I'm sorry, but that's how it is."
"Okay."
"Just, please - no more secrets."
Ren disappeared through the door as he strode to the guest bedrooms.
Ruby's heart ached - it hurt to see her friends like this.
Once again she couldn't do anything to make it better.
Nora fell back onto the couch.
"In this journey, we never were a team, were we?" - Nora said. - "
"I don't know." - Ruby clenched her fists. - "
Nora got her legs up on the couch, hugging her knees.
"He still doesn't talk to me, you know." - Nora said. - "Well he talks when he needs to, but beyond that he's, like, avoiding me."
Ruby's mind wandered back in time to that night -
"Give him time, Nora."
Nora chuckled.
"Funny. He said that to me back then when we just left the ship - when I asked about you."
"Yeah, I am not sure that time will help, me, Nora." - Ruby gripped her face with her palm. - "I don't know what to do. I feel so lost."
It has been months now since the Fall of Beacon.
Yet no matter how hard she had tried, she couldn't stop feeling as if the tragedies happened just yesterday.
And every step she had taken after only made it worse.
"The moment I close my eyes, I find myself back at Beacon. In those dreams, Pyrrha would be alive there and everything would be fine. We would all sit in the cafeteria and Yang would crack some joke, while Weiss scoffed and Blake would pretend not to laugh hiding her face behind a book."
"The good ol' days."
"Except lately Jaune and Neptune now are also there. And then I would wake up and could only think of how all of them must blame me for being such a disappointment." - Ruby gripped her eyes with both her hands. - "I would rather not sleep at all then."
"Nobody's blaming you, Ruby. We are all lost." - Nora shrugged. - "We'll figure it out. One step at a time. We do what we can."
"Move forward, right?"
Easier said than done.
Ruby shook, choking up - all her mistakes pressing heavily against her chest.
"Don't beat yourself up too much." - Nora stretched out her hand, brushing it against Ruby's hair. - "You know, it was weird at first but those gray streaks really suit you. Looks almost stylish for such a goof."
Ruby chuckled, closing her eyes.
Nobody ever had told her this path would be easy.
And unless she finally were to get some kind of answer, it would only grow more difficult.
The tragedy had shaken her, but she at least had a direction to go towards - something she could do to better understand things.
She would find out more about those eyes of hers and her mother.
Tears would need to wait until then.
She couldn't just give up or everything that happened, everyone she lost would be pointless.
Tomorrow would bring with it a new day and step by step she would brave the unknown.
She just hoped the world around her survived the night.
