Five Days Earlier…

The Wicchlean Archipelago off the eastern coast of the continent of Solitus: a small chain of forested islands all but abandoned by the world at large. Barely any living things swam in its streams or climbed its trees, and the rare expeditions to the islands found nothing of renown. It was a small pocket of unnature within nature itself, dying green and fallen branches. It was a useless stretch of several miles that did not have value to anyone.

Almost anyone.

Deep within the misty woods, so tucked away none could even stumble upon it by accident, was a small military base set up by the Atlasian government. It was hardly manned: a mere five small buildings had been set up on the tarmac with a minuscule stockpile of weaponry. Only thirty or so soldiers were stationed at the base at any given time, and each was given the exact same instruction. They were never, under any circumstances, to learn of their purpose. They could not speak as to their location at threat of exile or execution. They could not ask questions. They had one mission: stand watch over the strange metal door that half-jutted out from beneath the roots. The massive seal had burst from the ground a long time ago like an unearthed corpse, its contents a mystery. That did not stop the soldiers from frequently speculating. Some believed it to be an old weapon repository that Atlas couldn't quite abandon. Others thought it was a shelter for the global elite in case the world ended. One of the more popular theories: crashed alien spacecraft. But at the end of the day, no one, not even the commanding officers, knew of its purpose, so there was little to do but stand guard and wait for something to happen.

And nothing ever did happen. For decades, perhaps centuries, nothing ever did happen.

And then, a month or two ago, a Huntress arrived—and ever since, the days were filled with listening to her bitching about everything.

Glynda Goodwitch was not a toy. She could not be discarded out of sight once her usefulness was done. Yet, that seemed to be what happened. Ever since those miserable cunts of Team RWBY aired that footage of her doing literally nothing wrong, she had been treated like dirt. Literally! Literal dirt, like that which was scattered around this pathetic excuse for a military base. They said, oh please, guard this incredibly important vault for us, Goodwitch. Don't bother doing anything important, like actively investigating the woman who broke into our Academy. No, no, us big strong men will handle that. You stay and watch over the Vault that literally no one can enter and no one has ever escaped alive from.

Bullshit.

Total fucking bullshit.

There was nothing to do in this forested patch of nothing. No internet, barely Scroll service, no local shops, or hotspots; not a single goddamn thing of interest. She might as well have been dead. Hell, there wasn't even any alcohol. If there was, at least she could drink her miserable nights away. But no, because this somehow counted as a military operation, she was left with godawful rations that were close to expiration and tasted like shit. That was all there was to do. Eat, shit, rest, and eat shit. Oh, and listen to the soldiers make passes at her. Because most of them had been stationed for close to six months and hadn't seen anything remotely resembling a female bosom. She swore to god, if those fuckers made one more pass at her, she would peel off their skin and fashion a tarp with it. The only reason they hadn't tried to grope her was they knew of her reputation, though that made it even more humiliating. They knew she was Glynda Goodwitch. They knew this was beneath her. That left them to speculate and spread rumors, and it wore heavily on her mind.

Couldn't she just abandon her post? It wasn't like they could stop her. But she could not bear the consequences of that, neither external nor from within.

So, she just stayed here.

Trapped in a forest prison.

And every night, she would look up at the stars, and ask a higher power that she did not believe in:

What did she ever do to deserve this fate?

…

Aside from all that stuff.

Goodwitch had just finished asking that question on this night, one that seemed destined to be no different than the rest. Darkness had long since fallen over the forest, and she was certain the more orderly among them had gone to bed. She laid down on the rough canvas she called a bed. Early in her stay, the boys were generous enough to give her one of the two barracks all to herself. It wasn't because she threatened them to hang them by their intestines. No, it was just pure, Atlasian generosity. Goodwitch selected a bunk by the wall to feel more at home, and it was where she spent the majority of her time. She liked the cool metal beside her, and it comforted her, though she couldn't quite explain why. She was already dressed for sleep. Sweatpants, a plain white shirt, and slippers that the commanding officer tried to take away from her before she jabbed him in the throat. Her hair was down and was knotted from months without a proper shower, and her face was thin, pale, and barren. She pulled up her Scroll, hoping in vain that she would be able to connect to something of value.

Nope!

She groaned, letting her arm dangle off the bunk. How many more nights were going to pass until Ozpin pulled her out of this hellhole? She had served her sentence. She longed to teach again at Beacon, to develop the students' minds and skills. She wanted to see the Vytal Festival unfold and see the marvelous Semblances and weapons that had been developed over the years. Even when Beacon was finally rebuilt, would she be allowed back? By then, it'd be okay, right? Please, by then. The public couldn't stay mad at her forever. Team RWBY couldn't stay popular forever. Unless… this was really her life now. Abandoned and alone in the middle of nowhere, her infinite talents wasted.

Like an old toy.

Discarded.

But this night wasn't the same as the rest. On this night, Goodwitch heard something thumping outside her walls.

At first, she thought it was an illusion, her troubled mind playing tricks upon her. But then, she heard it again. It was like someone knocking on a door, but not quite. The sound wasn't solid, rather like a quick series of smaller crashes that crescendo into something greater. Then, she suspected it was an animal, but there was no life twenty miles from here. And the thumping came again, almost rhythmically. Deliberately. Someone was trying to get her attention.

Goodwitch rose from the bed, throwing on her violet overcoat and retrieving her wand from beneath her pillow. She showed no fear as she left the safety of the barrack and looked around the main camp. She saw no light. Truly, all of the soldiers were asleep. She shivered in place; despite the changing of the seasons and the lack of visible snow, the cold Atlas air still haunted her every move. She extended the tip of her wand, and a soft purple glow illuminated the space in front of her. With a grunt, she turned and walked around the parameter of the barrack. Every footstep crunched on the dry soil. She circled around to the opposite side of the greying building, expecting to be disappointed by some dull pranksters trying to liven up their service at this godforsaken place. Yet, that was not what Goodwitch discovered. Just outside of where she was resting, scattered across the ground, was the source of the sound, and something far more intriguing than she could have anticipated.

A pile of broken glass.

Goodwitch knelt down over the pile, small crystal shards breaking beneath her slippers. She delicately reached down and picked up the substance. It was real glass, all right, yet there wasn't a broken window in sight. It was only then, with the light closer to the ground, did she realize the glass was not a single heap, but a trail. Her wand moved across the dirt and her eyes scanned the ground. The trail of broken glass led deep into the shadows of the forest, over bramble and stone. She did not see any movement, or any possible source, but its intention was clear.

Someone was trying to lure her away from the camp. Someone wanted her alone. It was an obvious, dangerous trap.

She smirked. "Finally… something interesting."

Goodwitch nearly stepped straight into the unknown, but her experience stopped her. Not because she thought better of it. Of course, not. But she realized that the trap may not be for her alone. With her lured away from the base, it would be easy pickings for her enemies. Thus, she waved her wand across the ground, and a barrier of light formed around the entire perimeter. It extended up twenty feet, eventually looping into itself and trapping the grounds inside a protective cube. It would not hold off a determined intruder, but it would keep them at bay long enough for her to return. With a satisfied smirk, she marched off into the darkness, following the trail of broken glass.

It was difficult to know how deep she ventured. After only a few seconds, the base disappeared behind her. The trees cast a thick canopy overhead that made it impossible to see even moonlight. With every step, her slippers snapped dead branches and crunched broken glass, until the constant breaking formed a new sort of melody, growing louder as she descended into the wood. While her wand was kept in front of her, illuminating the path ahead, her eyes darted side to side, and she kept her senses sharply tuned for an ambush. Where would her enemies strike from? If they were smart, they would get her now, while her guard was supposedly down. But they never did, did they? No, they always lured the victim to some unremarkable clearing, where they would stage a dramatic reveal. Goodwitch hoped her mysterious guest would grant her a change of pace. Alas, she was sorely disappointed when the forest cleared, and the target was revealed.

As the moonlight broke through the weave, Goodwitch extended out her wand to see her enemy. The break in the forest was a narrow wedge cut from where a great tree collapsed, its twisted roots sticking out from the ground like grasping fingers. Sitting cross-legged atop the withered log that once stood proud a mere fifteen feet away, was the woman of Goodwitch's midnight ghost chase. She was dressed from head to toe in black, every inch of skin wrapped in shadow, hair tucked away behind a dark hoodie, and hands packed into gloves. They were tight enough that Goodwitch could see the muscular frame beneath, though she was slender enough to slip between the cracks if the Huntress was not too careful. Her face was obscured by a mask: a twisted, smiling visage, with narrow, tormented eyes and a sick grin that stretched to her ears. A zipper ran up its center, and it was only at the top where the metal parted could Goodwitch see the faintest glimmer of pale skin.

Like Goodwitch expected: a flair for the dramatic.

"Glynda Goodwitch in the flesh," the woman said, her voice like a blunted knife. "It's so nice to finally make your acquaintance."

Goodwitch kept her wand trained on the mysterious woman, though her eyes and ears continued to scan around her.

"I'll go out on a limb. Mrs. Glass?" Goodwitch asked cautiously.

"What gave it away?"

"The broken glass," Goodwitch said without the slightest hint of irony. "I have to say… it's quite the Semblance. I'm almost jealous."

"That's funny you'd say that," Mrs. Glass mused. "I went through the liberty of reading your old Beacon files from when your student days. It said that your Semblance was something called Bubble. Simple, controllable force fields like their namesake." She tilted her head. "Funny… it doesn't look like you are using that now."

"Well, you know those old websites," Goodwitch shrugged "Riddled with technical errors. But if you know who I am, you know what I'm capable of."

"Of course."

"And you know what I do to people who cross me."

"I've heard the rumors."

"So, why," Goodwitch asked pointedly, "would the most wanted woman in the world be so stupid enough to throw herself in front of me?"

"Because I believe the two of us have a lot in common," Glass said calmly. "And I wanted to have a heart-to-heart. That's all. Surely, you can see I went through the effort of assuring we'd be uninterrupted."

Glass gave a slight nod of her head to her surroundings, and Goodwitch became very still, the realization dawning upon her. She had heard nothing, seen nothing, sensed only the wood and decay. She assumed there was some Semblance hiding the presence of the others, some game yet to be sprung, but that wasn't it. Glass may have hidden her features, but her voice was an open book. There was no backup. No Grimm. The two of them really were all alone. Mrs. Glass had journeyed to the ends of the world, taken up a massive risk… all to speak to her. Goodwitch's voice almost trembled in shock.

"This isn't a trap," she said slowly. "You actually came alone."

"Because playing games is beneath you," Glass explained. "You're a respectable woman. I should treat you as such."

"Respectable woman, huh…"

"And you have been disrespected for quite a while, haven't you?" Glass explained. "I've seen the way your superiors treat you. After all of the work you've done for them, to see them—"

"You stupid little bitch."

Glass's eyes shot open beneath the mask. Her chest tightened. Without any warning, she was forced to leap from her perch, as Goodwitch shot her wand forward and obliterated the log in a massive wave of magical energy. Glass rolled to the ground, stunned briefly, but Goodwitch was right on top of her. The Huntress screamed viciously as she summoned a sword into her grasp, and plunged the blade deep into the earth. It narrowly missed the terrorist by a few inches, and she scrambled to get back to her feet. She could only just stand upright as Goodwitch pulled the glowing blade free and swung it at her torso. A plane of glass emerged from the ground, and Glynda's sword smashed through it, creating enough space for Glass to recover. She sneered beneath her mask.

"The hell are you—"

"Skipping a few steps!" Goodwitch laughed. "Hope you don't mind!"

The Huntress jumped back, extending her arm. Her wand glowed, and a dozen jagged spikes materialized. She fired them into the shadow, and Glass had to react quickly to shield herself. A tall, clear cylinder appeared around her, a foot thick, and the energy shards stuck into the protective barrier. This was not at all how she expected the night to turn out. She was prepared for combat, but god, could this woman at least let her start her damn speech?

"You don't even know what you're giving up," Glass grunted.

"I can make a few guesses," Goodwitch stated. She kept up the bombardment, and with each strike, the cracks within the barrier grew wider and wider. It started to strain, and she drew back her wand. The energy shards condensed into a massive spike, a huge drill capable of shattering even the thickest shields. Its rotation violently increased as Goodwitch's grin grew manic. "Not interested!"

At the last moment, Glass thrust her arms outward. The glass barrier exploded, sending thousands of tiny pieces toward her opponent. Goodwitch grunted, and the large spike turned, planting itself into the ground in front of her. Most of the broken pieces wedged themselves into the mass of energy, and the rest harmlessly sailed past her sides. Goodwitch groaned. She really wanted to see that snake get impaled on a huge spike. Too late for that. Goodwitch split the spike in two with a flick of her wand, and it turned into sparks and vanished. With her view unobstructed, she was suddenly faced with a new problem. Mrs. Glass had used the break in her eyesight to slip into the shadows. Goodwitch remained planted where she was, unwilling to make a sound. She knew Glass hadn't given up yet, not after coming this far. But now, she was being stalked. She just had to wait.

Glynda Goodwitch could do many things. Seeing in the dark was not one of them.

Yet.

"You have nothing."

The dull voice called from Goodwitch's left. She whipped in its direction and slashed with her wand. A wave of energy came forth and sliced through the dark. The poor tree in its path was cleanly bisected at an angle, yet the friction prevented it from falling over, dead but incapable of dying.

"Those girls took it from you."

The voice came again, now from behind. Goodwitch growled and fired another attack. It killed only branches.

"You're trapped here. You know that. They'll never let you back. Your reputation is in ruins."

Goodwitch waited. She needed to find her moment.

"But I can give you what you desire," Glass whispered from the dark. "I can give you back your job, your dignity… your life. I can help you snuff those children out, and rid this world of their influence. And you won't even hear me out?"

"You must think I'm stupid," Goodwitch hissed. "Any plan of yours would result in the deaths of millions. It'd be a bit hard to argue for my reemployment if I helped you then, don't you think? Or, here's a better idea…"

Goodwitch listened carefully.

"I kill you right now, carry your head to Ozpin's desk, and he'll be forced to take me back."

She heard the crunching of dead wood.

"There you are!"

Goodwitch turned toward the wood, extending out her wand in her clenched fist. She saw the shadow moving within. She flicked her wrist, and a pillar erupted into the brush, trying to pin one of Glass's limbs. She launched another, then another, each barely missing the shadow. She followed Glass's movements closely, trying to pin her down. She just needed one more, but her efforts took too much of her focus. She was caught up in the moment of excitement after months of boredom, the rush of adrenaline, and the simple call of battle. It left her with just the smallest blind spot in her senses. She didn't notice the movement beneath her feet until it was too late.

A thin plane of glass erupted from the ground beneath her. It shot up through her hand, and Goodwitch recoiled as her wand fell to the ground—along with the tops of her fingers.

Goodwitch gasped in pain, grabbing at her now-stumped hand. Blood oozed thick from the wound. She didn't even have time to fully process the injury before a glass arrow whizzed out from the darkness, impaling the calf. The arrow wedged itself into the ground, and Goodwitch fell to one knee, trapped in place. Glass lunged out into the clearing, two crystal swords in hand. She swung them in a downward arc toward the master Huntress, leaving her only a split-second to react. In desperation, she turned to an old technique. She raised up her palm, and a thick bubble appeared around her, trapping her in a gelatinous mass. Glass's swords rebounded off the rubbery surface, and the terrorist stumbled backward, only barely deterred. She grunted and swung down again, forcing her blades against the bubble.

"What makes you so loyal to your old masters?" Glass asked as she battered away at the bubble. "They threw you out. You're nothing more than a liability. A mistake. I'm offering you the chance to be something greater."

With every blow, Goodwitch gasped under the strain. Stupid bubble… stupid, old Semblance…

"All I need is to get into that Vault," Glass sighed. "Then, we can make the world however we want."

The bubble's tension weakened further as the swords crashed.

"Stronger."

Crash.

"Better."

Crash.

"Devoid of the mistakes."

Glass took a step backward, her eyes focused intensely behind her mask.

"But if you are too caught up in your loyalty to join us… fine. It's already set in motion. Your Kingdom's defenses are weaker than you know. What a shame, Glynda. Die with the coming of the inevitable." Glass slammed her two swords together, and they fused and began to grow. They morphed until a thick head formed at its end, and a massive sledgehammer of solid glass formed in the terrorist's hand, so heavy she could barely lift it. "Just don't say I didn't warn you!"

With all of her strength, Glass lifted the hammer above her head and brought it down hard onto the bubble—or at least, she tried to. In her precious little monologue, Goodwitch had prepared her next move. It required exact timing, but for a seasoned Huntress, it was practically child's play. The moment before the sledgehammer made contact, the bubble vanished, and Glass, expecting contact that never arrived, stumbled forward. Goodwitch brought down her active hand and pointed it beneath her. The glass never touched her skin before a portal materialized beneath her, and Goodwitch sank quickly into the earth, disappearing in a purple haze.

She reappeared a second later… directly above Mrs. Glass.

Goodwitch pulled back her wounded arm and delivered a hard, downward elbow to the back of Glass's skull. The impact sent both of them onto a pile on the floor, the Huntress landing with all her weight on top. Mrs. Glass tried to catch her breath, but she hadn't even a moment before she heard Goodwitch move. She immediately prepared a glass shield, expecting a knife or sword strike from the superior vantage point, but Goodwitch had her scouted. Instead, she grabbed onto Glass's knee, and with a summoned strength that matched that of a giant, Glass was heaved off the ground and thrown across the entire clearing. She spun through the air before colliding hard into a tree stump, her body nearly bending around the wood as her ribs cracked on impact. She fell to the ground with a thud, groaning in pain.

Okay. Well played…

She dug her knuckles into the ground, starting to pick herself up when the sight of Goodwitch surprised her. The former professor of Beacon Academy screamed angrily as she pointed a clawed hand down at the ground. A strange symbol appeared beneath her, distinct from anything before. The symbol was riddled with glyphs and ancient letters, and its glow was bright enough to shine through the forest like early daylight. Glass stayed quiet and watched with awe as Goodwitch screamed, before plunging her disfigured hand into the center of the symbol. She cried out in contorted agony, and pulled sharply, almost as if tugging something from the great abyss. She struggled hard for a few seconds, but with enough power, she was able to pull free, holding up her hand to the shattered moon.

Where once there were bloody stumps, there was now a claw of shadow, jagged and monstrous.

Goodwitch craned her neck toward Mrs. Glass, and the terrorist could see pure, malicious evil in her gaze. She couldn't help but mutter the question that floated to the front of her mind. When she spoke, it wasn't with terror, or jealousy, or even despair… but of a deep, wonderful curiosity.

"What exactly are you?"

From the terrible claw, a ball of crackling, dark power appeared. It grew from the size of a pinhead to a soccerball, to bigger than Goodwitch's entire torso. It warbled with a distorted, foreign energy, and its mere presence seemed to cause the world to quiver in fear. Goodwitch's fury vanished, and it was replaced with a gleeful smile, stretched wider than the print on Glass's mask. The evil in her eyes did not diminish as she answered.

"The best."

Goodwitch roared. Glass ran. The claw shot forward, and the energy was unleashed.

The wave of destruction was immense. Everything in Goodwitch's sight was blown apart. Trees splintered into shards thinner than paper. Stones melted and burbling streams evaporated. Layers upon layers of dying soil were upturned and blasted back half a mile. The sound was like a hundred tornados bellowing, an alien wail that sounded like all of Remnant was screaming from the pain. Goodwitch struggled to stay upright as all of her energy was forced into the attack, yet her bloodshot eyes did not stray from the glorious carnage ahead of her. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough. With her energy gone, the wave disappeared, and Goodwitch collapsed to her knees, clutching her chest and panting heavily. She swallowed down her own blood.

"God…" Her words were barely audible under her strained breathing. "I forgot how much… I loved that one…"

Goodwitch turned her gaze upward. There was only moonlight to guide her vision, but there was nothing to see. A great scar had been cut through the forest, dozens of feet wide and stretching far, far into the distance. The roots, the grass, the so-called life of the archipelago… it had all been stripped away, reduced to ashes of ashes. And if Glass had been caught within it, then her body was among them. Nothing, no matter, how strong, could survive such an attack.

Of course, that raised the obvious question… Goodwitch did get her, right? Surely, she couldn't have missed with such a wide-spread. She heard no footsteps, no labored breathing, nothing at all to suggest that Mrs. Glass had somehow managed to escape her. And yet… that suspicion couldn't escape her mind. All files suggested she was infinitely crafty. Could she have made a miraculous disappearance, just as she had suddenly appeared before? Was Mrs. Glass once again going to escape death? The possibility remained, and for that, Goodwitch could not let down her guard. She waited for the inevitable sneak attack, the jumpscare, the surprise return…

But then, she realized…

She just fired a huge fucking death ray at her. Like, ridiculously huge. So, nah… Glass was extremely dead. Goodwitch dropped her guard immediately and sighed contently.

Unfortunately, even with Glass dead, Goodwitch's job wasn't done. The terrorist had made a move toward the Vault, and according to her speech, she had allies. She said the plan was already in motion, whatever that meant. Even if the threat was neutralized, there was still danger lurking. Goodwitch knew what her next step was. Ozpin, Ironwood… they needed to know the sanctity of the Vault was in danger. Even if they pushed her aside, they still trusted her word. An update was crucially needed, especially if it meant telling them their most feared enemy was currently dust in a smoldering crater.

Goodwitch rose back to her feet. She looked down at her hand. The shadows had disappeared, and in its place, five perfectly normal fingers flexed under control. She smirked and turned back toward the base. Mission accomplished. Still, as she left the wounded forest behind, she wondered what Glass had been planning in her absence… and if maybe, it was already too late to stop it.