The Hunt: Maiden's Wrath

by Zeroan

A Maiden awakens deep in the earth. An ancient evil moves to seize her. The Hunt stands between the two forces, and soon they are cast into a conflict involving magic, souls, and connections that echo through time. The only way to prevail is to do it together. (Part of the RWBY Superhero Universe)

8. Connection

The sun set gradually on the horizon, spraying orange hues over the land at the side of the house. Only a few noises broke the silence, mostly coming from the crickets in the grass. Somehow the Grimm and the flames and everything in-between hadn't driven them away.

Qrow rose out of the freshly dug grave, helped by Jaune clasping his hand, and Ruby stared at the body left behind him. Ozpin lay still at the bottom of the grave, glass-less eyes closed, arms crossed atop his chest. His cane, Qrow kept. Ruby thought they should bury it with him, but she didn't know him nearly as well as her uncle, so she didn't put up an argument.

It was a surreal sight, truth be told. Ruby kept expecting Ozpin to sit up and climb out of the grave. He'd beat the dirt from his suit, ask for his cane back, and as everyone stared at him startled, he'd reveal that his apparent death had been but a carefully executed ruse, another step in his grand plan, and that he was proud everyone had played their parts so well.

But he didn't. He lay still, because he was gone.

"So, uh," Jaune spoke up, turning the shovel awkwardly in his hands. "Does anyone have anything to say before…?"

Pyrrha took a deep breath. She'd broken into tears when she first saw Ozpin lying dead inside the house, but since then she had calmed down somewhat, or so it seemed to Ruby. It was hard to tell.

"He was a good man," Pyrrha said softly, "I think."

In contrast, Amber hadn't said a word since Cinder had run away. She knelt at the edge of Ozpin's grave, staring, face pale as death. It was almost as if he'd died and taken her with him.

"Ozpin did more for this world than any of us could hope to know," Goodwitch said. "His service was long and backbreaking. May he finally rest now that it's over."

"Hear, hear," Qrow said, shaking his flask in the air. "I'll find some brandy to pour over your grave once things have calmed down, old man." He cleared his throat. "I'll try to do right by you. 's all."

Jaune looked around, waiting for the next person to speak up. When no one did, he looked down at his feet, as if contemplating saying something himself, before he shook his head and started to move the shovel towards the pile of displaced dirt beside the grave.

"Wait," Nora said sharply. "I have something to say to this guy."

The group tensed, exchanging worried glances. Ren took Nora's hand and leaned on her arm, sending her a look to reconsider. It didn't stop her.

"You were a right fucking bastard, that's what I think. The only reason you didn't completely ruin my life is because I was very, very lucky to have Ren." She stared impetuously at Ozpin. "Thanks for saving my life earlier. I'll consider us even, since you're dead and all."

She turned away, rubbing her nose.

"Wow. That was almost nice," Jaune said.

"Thanks," Nora muttered. "I'm a poet."

Ren squeezed her hand, smiling lightly at her.

"Okay," Jaune said. "Here we go, then."

He started to shovel the dirt into the hole. The group stayed silent for a while more yet, watching as Ozpin slowly disappeared under the earth, before people started to shift.

"What now?" Weiss asked. "Ozpin's dead. For good, it seems, because of Tyrian. But Cinder didn't get what she came for, did she?"

"I wouldn't be so sure," Qrow said gravely, and nodded at Amber. "Look at her."

If Amber had been ill when Ruby and the others had found her in Atlas, now she looked ten times worse. Ruby hoped she was wrong, but she was starting to fear they might soon have to dig another grave beside Ozpin's.

"Where does that leave us, then? Do we prepare for another attack?" Weiss said.

She looked at Ruby for an answer, and naturally, everyone else followed suit. Ruby tried not to appear too shaken as she ordered her thoughts.

"Cinder's not coming back, I'm pretty sure of that." She didn't elaborate on why. It wasn't the time. "Tyrian will have gone with her. I doubt they're done with their plans, but I have no clue what their next move is after this."

She could only think of one way to maybe find out. Slowly so as to not startle her, Ruby crouched beside Amber and nudged her elbow.

"Hey, Amber," she said softly. "Can you tell us what Cinder wanted to do with your powers? If you have any clues at all, it'd help us a bunch."

But Amber didn't acknowledge her, much less answer her question. Her eyes remained fixed on Ozpin's grave, as if it might vanish from the world if she looked away for one second.

Ruby sighed. She looked at Qrow and Goodwitch. "I'm guessing you don't know anything either?"

"Ozpin kept many secrets, some of which even I wasn't privy to," Goodwitch said. "I can dig around, but this may be something only Amber can shed light on."

Qrow grunted in agreement. Ruby nodded, the mention of secrets forming a tense knot between her shoulders. Goodwitch peered at her, a mix of apprehension and suspicion in her eyes. Ruby broke eye contact hastily and turned back to Amber.

"Amber, I think you should go back inside. You're not looking well," Ruby said, but again, she got no response.

"I don't think she's going to leave him," Jaune muttered.

"Yeah." Ruby stood up. "Someone should stay with her at all times, just in case Cinder attacks again." Or just in case she gets suddenly worse – but Ruby didn't want to put that out into the world. "We'll take turns. Meanwhile, we should go back inside. The house needs some fixing, and those of us who need some rest can get it while we figure things out."

"I can get started on fixing the lights," Weiss said.

"That sounds great," Ruby said. "I'll join you later to help."

The group started to disperse from around the grave. Blake was gone so fast she almost ran back into the house. Yang lingered for a moment, sullen, before she walked away, Zwei following loyally by her side.

Ruby watched them go, not liking the thought of leaving either of them alone, but there was so much she had to deal with first. She sent a look to Weiss, and thankfully she seemed to get the message. I'll make sure they're okay, Weiss communicated with a simple nod, before she too walked away.

Nora hooked an arm around Pyrrha's elbow. "Let's get you to your room. Some sleep is in order."

"I don't need to sleep," Pyrrha said, wiping her cheeks. "I promise I'm fine. I'd rather help."

"If you're fine, then I'm a sentient lamppost," Nora said. "It's not a suggestion. Ren will fix up something nice to fill up your belly."

Ren nodded. "I am an adept of cooking in the dark."

With a sigh, Pyrrha relented. She looked over her shoulder at Jaune, and only after he'd given her an encouraging smile, let herself be led away.

"If you don't require my help, I will be leaving immediately," Goodwitch said. "The Council needs to be informed of Ozpin's death. What's left of it, anyway. Qrow-"

"Actually, I need Qrow to stay," Ruby said. "He can join you later if he wants to, but there's something we need to talk about first."

Goodwitch frowned, looking from her to Qrow. "I suppose that won't be a problem."

"Great," Ruby said. "Thanks for understanding, Glynda."

Silence hung in the air. Ruby stared at Goodwitch, and for what she thought was the first time ever, the fearless right hand of Beacon couldn't bring herself to look her in the eyes.

It clicked with Ruby now, why Goodwitch had spoken to her that way yesterday. Their conversation had such an air of finality to it. It was because she'd known Ruby would learn the truth soon enough – the truth of what Cinder had done – the truth that Goodwitch had kept from her. And she'd known things would never be the same after that. She'd been saying goodbye without Ruby even realizing it.

A small mercy, but Ruby didn't feel inclined to thank her for it.

"Call me if you need anything," Goodwitch said, and walked away. Ruby let her go without a word.

With everyone else gone, only Ruby, Jaune, Qrow and Amber remained.

"So what did you need to talk to me about, Miss Rose?" Qrow asked, hands in his pockets.

Jaune took a pause from shoveling to look up at Ruby. "I can go away if you need privacy. Qrow can take over the shoveling."

"That's alright. You can stay," Ruby said. "Just, uh – you can't tell anyone. Especially Yang. It's just too much right now."

"My lips are sealed." Jaune glowered at Qrow. "Why am I the one doing all the heavy work, anyway?"

"Because my back's not what it used to be." Qrow brushed him off with a wave, then looked at Ruby. "So?"

Ruby exhaled. There was no other way to do this than just say it.

"Did you know Cinder killed my mom?"

Qrow's reaction told her everything. He took a hand out of his pockets and ran it back through his hair, shaking his head. Jaune looked up briefly, eyes wide, before he focused on shoveling again.

"Ruby, that's not possible," Qrow said. "How would you even know that?"

"I found out when I saved Amber from Cinder," Ruby said. "It's like I saw her memories. They were on the road – Amber and Mom and Cinder – going somewhere, and Cinder betrayed them. That was when she took Amber's power."

"I saw Summer's body," Qrow said. "She was killed by Grimm, Ruby, there was no mistaking it."

"Yeah, and Cinder was with them. It was an ambush. She was working for Salem." Ruby clenched her fists. "It's all the same, uncle Qrow! It wasn't some random thing, she was behind it!"

Qrow rubbed his eyes. "Amber, feel free to join the conversation anytime. Now would be good."

Amber didn't show any sign that she'd heard him. Qrow looked off into the distance, a scowl on his face.

"Shit," he said. "It adds up. I never paid much attention to Cinder, but I know she vanished around the same time Summer died. I just assumed it was because Summer was gone. And months later, Ozpin told me she'd attacked Amber. He made it sound like it had just happened." He shook his head. "I should have realized it was all connected."

Jaune raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought you were supposed to be a super spy or something."

"What, you're saying I was supposed to assumeOzpin was lying to me?" Qrow said. "You don't know shit about me, kid, and you still don't know shit about him. Got it?"

Jaune shrugged and kept shoveling.

"So you didn't know Cinder killed Mom," Ruby said, "but you knew they were close."

"Close is one way to describe it," Qrow said. "Summer had a soft spot for her. She did everything she could to help that kid, but some people you just can't help."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ruby asked. "Why didn't Dad? Why didn't anyone?"

Qrow's shoulders drooped. "I don't know, kid. I'm sorry." He sighed. "Summer died a long time ago, Ruby. You were so young. What good would it have done to tell you about Cinder?"

Ruby scowled. "I deserved to know."

Qrow shrugged. If Ruby were any less exhausted, she might have pressed him further. She might have even lost her cool and said some things she would have later regretted. Instead she bit on the inside of her cheek, and focused instead on the more immediate concerns they were facing. Amber was growing weaker, the team's spirits were at an all-time low, and their enemies' whereabouts were unknown.

That was the only way for her to keep moving right now.

A groan indicated that Jaune had finished filling the grave. He patted the dirt with the shovel to flatten it, then dropped the tool on the grass unceremoniously.

"I know why Ozpin didn't tell me," Qrow said, staring at the fresh mound. "He thought I'd have hunted her down if I knew she had a hand in Summer's death. Might have killed a kid. Might have gotten myself killed if I didn't." He buried his hands back in his pockets, shoulders heavy with tension. "He was probably right."

"Doesn't feel so good when you're the one being kept in the dark, huh?" Jaune said.

Qrow rounded on him immediately, his hands reaching for Jaune's collar. Jaune swatted them away, not budging in the slightest.

Ruby held back a sigh. Somehow, they were managing to make her even more tired.

"What? He lied to you, and you're still making excuses for him," Jaune said. "He didn't tell you because he couldn't afford to lose another agent. And now that he's dead, you're gonna pick up his work like it's no big deal. He's dead, and he's still using you."

"Is that what you think, huh? Is that what passes for intelligent thought in that big head of yours?" Qrow growled. "If Ozpin didn't use people like you say he did, guess fucking what, there wouldn't be any people left. You would be lying six feet deep under the ground, just like he is right now. You think there'd be enough room in there for you and your high horse? How about you pick that shovel back up and we test that out?"

"Oooh, so clever," Jaune said. "Can't wait for you to be Director. You're gonna do great."

Qrow put a hand on Jaune's chest and shoved. Jaune stumbled back a couple steps before he stopped. He clenched his fists-

Ruby clapped her hands. "Alright, stop it!" she yelled. "Can you two occupy the same space for five minutes without jumping down each other's throats? Is this a man thing? Why do I feel like a daycare teacher?"

Qrow crossed his arms and turned away. Jaune huffed.

"He started it."

"He's only angry because he knows I'm right."

Ruby glared from one to the other, her sanity and patience doing handstands at the edge of the abyss. She rubbed her temples and silently counted to ten.

"Jaune," she said, turning to face him, "I don't care if you're right. There are better ways to prove your point than antagonizing my uncle. Even better, you can put that energy into doing something actually useful."

Jaune deflated entirely, bowing his head and apologizing under his breath. Qrow grinned. "Heh."

"And you-" Ruby fixed him with a glare- "Mr. Grown-Adult-Man. Maybe you should start listening to people you disagree with instead of acting like you know everything, especially right after it was proven that you don't. Do that, and you may even figure out why we don't like to work with people like Ozpin. Just a tip."

Qrow didn't take his sermon nearly as gracefully as Jaune. His face locked up in a scowl, and he plopped down on the ground, coming to sit right beside Amber.

"Why don't you two child geniuses go away to do something important," he said gravely. "I'll sit with her. We can watch the grave of my recently deceased boss together."

Ruby looked up at the sky. The drama. She gestured to Jaune, and they started walking back to the house.

"I'm sorry," Jaune said once they were out of Qrow's hearing range. "You're right. I should have known better than to pick a fight now, of all times."

Ruby shrugged. "He probably needed to hear that."

"Still. With everything going on right now, stuff like that can wait." Jaune puffed up his chest. "Alright, from now on, I'm gonna be laser-focused on the present. Whatever you need help with, I'm your guy."

"Thanks, Jaune," Ruby said. "See, I would have been way angrier with you if you didn't get it. But I know you do. You're just a bit of a blockhead sometimes."

"What, and you're not?" Jaune mock-glared at her. "I knew this day would come. Being the leader finally went to your head."

"Yup. And if you keep giving me sass, I'll kick you off the team."

Jaune laughed, and for a moment Ruby managed to forget everything, before it all returned like a knife through the heart. The weight she felt was so crushing she thought she might fall to her knees, but somehow she kept walking.

"That stuff about your mom," Jaune said in a quiet tone as they neared the house. "You probably don't want to talk about it right now, but are you going to be okay?"

"I'm okay right now," Ruby said. "It's like you said, that stuff can wait. We gotta focus on the present first."

Jaune looked at her, and Ruby could tell he wasn't really convinced. And how could she blame him when she was so unsure herself.

"You sure you can do that?" Jaune asked.

"I'm a superhero, Jaune." Ruby swished her cape around her. The battle had left it singed along the bottom, and tears were starting to show at places. Regardless, it still brought her some comfort. "I can do anything."

---

Cinder all but fell off the Nevermore as it landed on the forest floor. She slid down the span of its wing, with no mind or control to her descent, and crashed on the ground amidst leaves and branches. She lay there, breathless, bruised, staring at a sky that felt much closer than it ought to be.

The world felt alive. The dirt she lay on, the stones and roots buried underneath it. The trees, and above them the clouds and the stars, and the moon, watching her in its silent journey across the sky.

Cinder shrank away from it all, but there was nowhere for her to hide. Nowhere to run to. Her head throbbed. Dried blood caked the left side of her face, a reminder of the terrible blow Ruby had inflicted on her. But it could have been fatal. It should have been fatal.

Eyes stared at her from between the trees. Eyes that weren't there, sometimes silver, sometimes red on black. They flashed with kindness, anger, pity, disappointment. Echoing voices flew by in the breeze.

You let them hurt you.

Afraid?

You let them have power over you.

Why would I be afraid of you?

Stop. Show them what they're afraid of.

You're one of mine.

Cinder screamed, and for a blissful moment, the world fell silent. She curled up on the ground. A faint rustling approached her, and she opened her eyes to see the Nevermore perched beside her. It lowered its head towards her, beak brushing her ear.

"Poor child."

Cinder shuddered. She wanted the voice to be another phantom conjured by her addled mind, but she knew nothing could imitate the real thing in the way it chilled her to the bone.

"You've survived quite the ordeal today," Salem whispered through the Nevermore. "Such tireless work you've been doing for me. I think it is time you rested."

"Can't rest." Cinder had to tear the words from her throat, and still she could barely utter them. "I failed you."

"That is a discussion for the morning. For now, you will close your eyes."

Cinder did as she was told. Her vision swam with a million blurred colors. Not a second passed before she had to open her eyes again, and when she did the dark of the forest greeted her back, dotted with the silver that haunted her.

"Easy, child. The night won't take you while I am with you."

The Nevermore lowered itself to the ground and draped a wing over her body. Like a blanket, it covered her from head to toe, and as Cinder stared at the black of its feathers, darker than the night itself, the world became a distant memory. The throbbing of her head faded, and her eyelids started to droop.

"I am with you. I am always with you."

Warm, Cinder drifted into sleep.

---

Yang pushed the door of the storage room open with her shoulder. She flashed her Scroll's flashlight around as she walked inside, looking for the light switch. Finding it, she flicked it with her elbow, but the lights stayed off.

"Guess they haven't got them working in this part of the house yet," she said, flashing her Scroll onto Zwei as he pitter-pattered in after her. "Careful, boy. Don't wanna trip over you."

She started going through the room in search of the cleaning utensils she'd come for. The broom was easy to find, leaning on the wall right by the door, and there was a dustpan not far from it. But a problem soon presented itself as she realized she had her hand occupied with holding her Scroll, leaving no room for her to grab either of them.

She started to reach for the broom with her other hand, and stopped. A bitter taste filled her mouth, but she swallowed it back along with her pride.

"This isn't gonna be pretty, boy."

She readjusted her Scroll to hold it between her index and ring fingers, then grabbed the broom. She pulled the dustpan closer with her foot, and after a lot of shuffling, managed to tuck it under her arm and lift it sideways off the floor.

"Would you look at that! Not completely useless, after all," Yang said. She turned, and the dustpan struck a shelf behind her, knocking several items to the ground with a loud clatter. "Mostly."

She walked out of the room, which was a task easier said than done with what she was carrying, and reorientated herself in the dark before she started making her way down the hallway. The north side of the house had looked the most in need of some sweeping when she'd walked around earlier, so she'd start there first.

A strange noise stopped Yang in her tracks before she got there. She stood still in the middle of the hallway, tilting her head to listen. Loud, but shallow breaths. No mistaking it. She moved her Scroll up to find the source of it, and jumped.

Blake was just up ahead, not more than some ten steps from where Yang stood. She was bracing against a wall with one hand, while she held something under the opposite arm. Her eyes were forced shut, her ears pressed flat atop her head so hard, it was painful just to look at.

"Blake?" Yang whispered, her tongue heavy as lead inside her mouth. When Blake didn't respond, she tried again. "Blake? You okay?"

Blake didn't react. Yang swallowed dry and tried to remember what she was supposed to do in a situation like this. Get help? That sounded smart, that was probably the answer. But she didn't want to leave Blake by herself in the dark. What if she got even worse?

Yang blinked. Her Scroll! She didn't need to go anywhere to get help. She went to unlock it, but her fingers were trembling so badly she mistyped her password over and over again. On the fourth try she got it right, only for the broom to fall out of her grasp.

The noise was so loud it might as well have been a gunshot.

Blake turned, and suddenly Yang was being shoved against the wall behind her, the dustpan and her Scroll dropping to the floor as well. An elbow pressed roughty on her neck. Yang tried to push it away, gasping with no air in her lungs, Zwei's barking exploding in her ears.

The lights came on, and Yang and Blake stared at each other.

For a moment, Blake didn't move, continuing to hold Yang against the wall with unfaltering strength. Her blade gleamed in her other hand, held low near Yang's belly. Then her eyes went wide, and she stumbled back, dropping her weapon as she covered her mouth with her hands.

"Y-Yang. I'm so sorry-"

Zwei put himself in front of Yang, growling. Yang rubbed her neck and coughed.

"It's f-fine," she said. "You didn't hurt me."

Blake shook her head. "I was about to."

"But you didn't. I startled you. I'm s-sorry too."

They fell silent, and suddenly Yang found herself avoiding looking at Blake at all costs, and in the corner of her vision she saw Blake doing the same with her. Zwei continued to growl, until Yang clumsily reached down and patted him on the head. He drew back, rubbing against her ankle while he stared suspiciously at Blake.

"You looked pretty rough just now," Yang said. She flinched. Why did her voice have to sound so loud all of a sudden? "I tried calling your name. Are you-"

"I'm fine." Blake rubbed her arms. "I'm just on edge. I need sleep. And I will sleep. Soon."

Yang didn't believe her, not for a second, but she had no power to say anything. And if she insisted that Blake wasn't okay, she might just turn that around on her, and Yang couldn't have that.

"What's all this about, a-anyway?" Yang asked, looking at everything scattered on the floor. Aside from her stuff, there seemed to be a bunch of blankets and pillows strewn about. Blake crouched and started to pick them up.

"For the living room," Blake muttered, speaking quickly. "My room and Pyrrha's aren't safe – the hallway's in bad shape – so Ruby is lending her bedroom to Pyrrha and Jaune, and we're going to sleep in the living room overnight."

"Oh. Maybe Ruby can crash with me and you can have her room. Or I can crash with her and you can have my room. You know, so you don't have to-"

"I'm fine sleeping on the couch. Don't worry about it."

She finished bundling up the blankets and picked up Yang's Scroll. She handed it back off-handedly, and Yang looked at her again just in time to see Blake pick up her blade.

It was as if Yang had been dunked into an ice bath. She imagined herself lying in a vast white field, a snowstorm raging around her, and Blake stood over her. She looked down at Yang, amber eyes shining in the storm that suddenly turned black, and raised her blade-

Yang blinked, her heart beating fast in her chest. She schooled her expression and her thoughts into submission – that's not Blake that's not Blake - but it was too late. Blake had seen the terror on her face.

"I'm sorry," Blake mumbled, rising to her feet. "I won't come near you again."

She turned away. Yang opened her mouth to speak, but her voice died in her throat, and before she could find it again, Blake had rushed off and disappeared.

Yang stood in the middle of the hallway, trembling. An invisible weight fell over her, while inside her everything seemed to constrict around her heart, squeezing it from all sides until it had barely any room to be. She fought off the feeling, banished all thoughts from her head. If she could power through it, everything would be okay. One minute at a time. That's all it took.

She reached to pick up the broom, and collapsed onto her butt.

It was just too much.

Yang sat back against the wall and pressed her legs against her chest. She buried her face between her knees, her throat and eyes burning as she fought with all her strength to keep herself from breaking down crying. For the sake of her dignity. She couldn't pretend she wasn't completely broken anymore, but at least she still had her dignity.

Yang didn't know how long she stayed there, shrunken unto herself. Zwei pressed himself against her side, and maybe that was how she managed to weather the storm. The trembling faded, but didn't go away, and eventually her eyes stopped burning.

"Yang?"

She looked up to see Weiss standing in front of her. She crouched before her, blue eyes gazing at her with all the concern in the world, and Yang didn't know whether to lunge forward and hug her or to run away at a sprint. After a heart-wrenching second she settled for something of the latter, wiping her eyes and then pushing her up to her feet, turned away from Weiss.

"Did you fall?" Weiss asked. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"I'm fine. I just, uh-" Yang scrambled for a sufficient excuse, but then she remembered what had led up to this. That was too important to omit. "I stumbled into Blake and things went bad. You should really check on her. I'm pretty sure she was having a panic attack."

"She was what? And she was here?" Weiss rubbed her eyes. "Oh, Blake. I told her to stay in the living room with the others."

"Yeah, I think she went back there," Yang said.

"Hold on, I'll text Ruby to check on her."

Weiss took out her Scroll and started typing furiously. Yang looked down the hallway. Good, the Blake problem was being handled, so that meant she could slip away now without having to worry about it. Or she could have, if she had been dealing with anyone else. Weiss wasn't one to let things go easily, which was a very annoying quality right now.

"And you," Weiss said, putting her Scroll away. If her sharp tone wasn't enough to freeze the blood in Yang's veins, then the look in her eyes did the job. "You're just as bad. I thought I told you to stay in your room."

"Okay, yes, and I promise I tried to stay," Yang said, "but I just couldn't, okay? I needed to do something to help."

"And you were going to do that by, what-" Weiss looked at the fallen broom and dustpan- "cleaning up the house by yourself?"

Yang's shoulders fell. "I thought I'd get a head start."

"A third of the house is nearly falling apart, Yang," Weiss said. "Even if you did an impeccable job cleaning it, it'll all go to waste when we start repairing it."

"Okay, I get it!" Yang said. "Good to know I'm stupid as well as useless."

Weiss's mouth hung open, her expression softening. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, Weiss? That I'm too fragile to be doing anything except lying in bed feeling sorry for myself and being a burden to everyone?" Yang said. "It's okay, you don't have to lie about it. The truth's the truth. I've swallowed it."

"No. I don't believe that at all," Weiss said. "You're going to get better, Yang."

"I won't. You have no idea what this feels like," Yang said. "You don't know what it's like to suddenly be less of yourself. To know that you're never going to be the same person again. You and everyone else almost died fighting Cinder while I hid in a fucking safe room, and you know what the worst part is? It's not that I couldn't fight with you guys. It's that I was relieved that I didn't have to. Because I was terrified. Does that sound like me to you, Weiss? Does it?"

She leaned on the wall behind her, feeling suddenly breathless. Shame struck her, and relief, relief that the truth had finally come out, and she couldn't take it back in. She was still its prisoner, but at least she could see it clearly now.

And Weiss stared at her. She stared at her with those big blue eyes, and Yang wanted them gone but couldn't look away.

"Actually, I do know what that feels like. Perhaps not to the same extent, but close," Weiss said. "But that's not why I know you'll get better. I know that because I know you."

"You don't." Yang shook her head. "Not the real me."

"Yes, I do. You're passionate, and you're strong, and you're the kindest person I know. You're also a bit of a mess, yes, and you can be very aggravating, and sometimes you don't really think things through and that backfires on you," Weiss said. "I know you've been beaten down into the dirt before. You've felt like giving up. But you haven't yet, and you won't this time."

"Stop." Yang turned away. "Stop looking at me like that."

"I can't," Weiss said, a tremulant smile coming to her lips. "I think I'm-" She stopped, and for a second her eyes strayed as she took a deep breath, before she looked at Yang again. "I am quite confident that I'm in love with you."

Yang's heart soared, and she soared with it and out of the house, ascending into the sky and breaking through the clouds, and she floated in the stratosphere as night turned to day and she basked in the light of the sun and everything was right.

Then she felt the phantom weight on her left arm, and it brought her back to reality crashing down.

"Why?" Yang said hoarsely. "Why now?"

"Well, I-I think I knew before, for some time. Since you took me in your arms and we – we danced," Weiss said. "I just couldn't accept it, I think. Not until I almost lost you."

"Well," Yang said, "I'm glad you got there finally. Real proud of you."

"I'm fairly sure you're in love with me too. Or you're interested in me romantically, at least – I don't want to be presumptuous." Weiss laughed nervously. "You lay it on pretty thick sometimes. I was in denial, not oblivious."

Yang hid her face in her hands. Fuck. Fuck. Abort.

"I-I'm sorry," Weiss said, waving her hands. "I wasn't planning on saying any of that. This really isn't the best time. I can wait until you're better, for as long as you need, or we can just forget about this-"

"What part of I'm not going to get better are you not fucking getting!" Yang screamed.

Weiss drew back, eyes wide. "Please don't yell at me," she said quietly.

Yang took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's just – I can't believe you're springing this on me now."

"I'm sorry. I really wasn't thinking," Weiss said. "We can forget about it-"

"Can we? Is it that easy for you?" Yang scowled. "You really mean to tell me there was no opportunity to do this before everything went to hell. You just had to do this when we're in a crisis and I'm vulnerable and I have no idea how I'm gonna do anything after this."

Weiss flinched. "What are you saying?"

"You're smart, Weiss. You know exactly what I'm saying," Yang said. "Did you think you were going to rescue me? That you'd take care of me and bring me back to life and you'd get to feel all warm and fuzzy inside, because what a selfless soul you are?"

Weiss gasped. "That's not true," she said. "It's not."

But doubt crept into her voice, and she looked at Yang with a frown on her forehead before swiftly looking away. And Yang almost smiled, triumph mixing with shame and regret and a feeling like she was the biggest asshole in the world.

She just wanted this to be over.

"Well, only you know yourself," Yang said, turning away. "Either way, I'm not going to make you happy, so yeah, let's forget about this. Good news is that there's still plenty of fish out in the sea now that you're so confident in yourself."

Weiss glowered at her, tears gleaming in her eyes. "You're just being cruel to push me away so you can be alone and miserable," she said. "Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted. Maybe I was wrong about you after all."

She stormed off. Yang almost reached out to grab her arm and stop her, but it was just a passing thought. She let Weiss go, and felt good about it.

Zwei clambered onto her feet. He looked up at her, whining, an accusatory glint in his eyes.

"It had to be done, boy," Yang said. "She'll thank me for it someday."

It was the truth. And if she repeated it often enough, eventually she'd have to believe it herself.

---

"You sure you want to sleep here?" Jaune asked, unfolding a blanket over the living room couch. Somehow it had survived the Uber-Beringel's rampage largely unscathed, which was more than could be said about most of the furniture.

Blake shook her head at him.

"You sure?" Jaune said. "Seriously, I can sleep here, and you can sleep with Pyrrha. Again. I won't mind." He flashed twin fingers guns at her. "I'm a very secure and open-minded individual."

"Thank you," Blake said. "I'll be fine."

Jaune backed off, recognizing by her tone that insisting would only get her annoyed with him. He picked up a pillow, patted it a bit on both sides to smooth it over, then handed it to her.

"Alrighty, you do you," Jaune said. "If you need anything, uh, scream or something."

Blake acknowledged that with a vague arch of an eyebrow, and sat down on the edge of the couch. She sat there, pillow on her lap, staring at nothing in particular with a glazed look in her eyes. She wasn't going to sleep anytime soon despite how obviously exhausted she was. It didn't terribly surprise Jaune – there seemed to be a lot of that attitude going on right now.

"Well, uh, good night," Jaune said, and shuffled away awkwardly.

He went over to Weiss, who was sweeping the worst of the damage to a corner of the room to avoid people getting tripped up over it while repairs weren't done yet.

"So that was sorta worrying," Jaune whispered. "She's acting like she's fine but obviously she isn't. That can't be good."

"It's Blake. What else did you expect?" Weiss looked up just briefly enough to acknowledge his presence. "She can hear you from over there, by the way, even if you whisper."

"Oh. Right." Jaune cringed. "Sorry, Blake."

He heard some movement on the couch behind his back, and chose not to turn to look. He probably wouldn't survive the eye contact.

"You're right to be concerned. But Ruby will stay with her overnight to make sure she's okay," Weiss said. "Or I'll do it, if Ruby stays with Yang. Don't say anything. I know – another selfless act of nobility from Weiss Schnee."

She twisted her broom, flicking a piece of rubble to the corner so hard, you'd think it had insulted her family line and burned down all her crops.

"Okay, I… won't say that." Jaune blinked. "You doing okay?"

Weiss jolted upright, as if suddenly remembering herself. "Of course," she said, and resumed sweeping. "I'm sorry if I was curt with you. I'm stressed, but everyone is. That's no excuse."

"Apology accepted anyway," Jaune said. "You're not in pain or anything, are you? That big Grimm hit you pretty bad."

"Your healing was more than sufficient," Weiss said. "Thank you for that. And the concern."

"Well, you did sorta take that hit to save everyone's bacon," Jaune said. "Would have been a jerk move to not heal you after that. Eh, guardian angel?"

Weiss grimaced at the nickname, and Jaune almost laughed before he noticed the reaction was a little too visceral.

"I told you not to call me that again," Weiss muttered.

"Oh. S-sorry," Jaune said. "I thought that was just you being playful. You know, leaning into the joke?"

Weiss's lips pressed into a rigid line. "It's run its course."

She fell silent, continuing to sweep the floor with a now mechanical performance, and Jaune remained rooted to the spot, mortified. He saw Blake shift on the couch to look at her, interest and concern mixed in her face, which Jaune supposed was a much better alternative to the semi-empty look she had on before. He only wished it didn't have to come at his expense.

He was saved from disappearing into the ether of the universe by Ruby's arrival. She walked into the room coming from the front of the house, typing into her Scroll.

"Hey, guys," she said. "What's going on?"

"Oh, you know, we're just hanging out," Jaune said. "Pals being pals. Cool times."

"Uh-huh." Ruby looked at Blake. "You doing okay, Blake?"

Blake raised her a tired thumbs-up.

"I'll be staying here overnight, by the way," Weiss said to Ruby. "That way you can stay with Yang."

"Cool. I was meaning to check on her. Yang's putting on a brave face, but I know she's not doing well," Ruby said. "Thanks, Weiss."

"Don't mention it."

Ruby turned her attention back to her Scroll, her brow furrowing as she typed out what had to be a really long message – or she kept going back and forth on what to say. A minute passed before she finished and looked up at Jaune again.

"How's Pyrrha?"

Jaune sighed. "She kinda passed out as soon as she hit the bed, and she was still asleep when I left her. So I guess she could be doing worse," he said. "I think she's just in shock. Everything with Beacon, and then that awful Maiden stuff, and now Ozpin's dead. If I'm having a hard time processing all of that, I can't even imagine how she's feeling."

"Pyrrha's strong," Weiss said. "She'll get through this, I have no doubt about it."

"Yeah, and she won't be alone. She has all of us," Ruby said. "You think there's anything we can do to help her? Maybe there's something we can do to make her more comfortable, or cheer her up." Ruby frowned. "If that doesn't sound too dumb."

"It's not dumb," Jaune said. "I think she'll be happy just to have us with her."

For a moment Ruby looked almost disappointed, before she nodded and looked at her Scroll again. Her eyes narrowed, fingers tapping restlessly on the sides of the device.

"Ruby, you know you don't have to keep finding stuff to do, right?" Jaune said, eyeing her warily. "You can rest too, if you need to. The world's not gonna end if you take a nap."

"Penny's not replying to any of my texts," Ruby said. "She hasn't even seen them."

"Oh, okay, well – she seemed really shaken up about what happened with General Ironwood. She's probably busy taking care of that stuff," Jaune said. "But about what I was saying-"

"Uh-huh, I'll rest later," Ruby said. She looked towards the front of the house. "Qrow left a while ago, he said he was going to Mistral where they're holding Lionheart. He thinks he might be able to learn something from him, but he's not gonna get there until tomorrow. Meanwhile Amber's still unresponsive." She rubbed her forehead and sighed. "I just hate waiting around like this, but what else can we do? We know so much more now but we're still in the dark."

Jaune was struck silent, wanting to say something but not knowing what could possibly be enough to fix what was so clearly wrong in front of him. Ruby was the last person he expected to sound so defeated. He looked at Weiss, hoping that she knew what to do – because Weiss always knew what to do when he didn't – but she looked even more helpless.

"Nothing's changed," Blake said, and Jaune nearly jumped out of his skin in fright. She sat sideways on the couch, leaning lightly into it while she peered at him and the others with tired amber eyes. "Ozpin. Maidens. Even Salem. It doesn't matter if we're in the dark or not. Nothing's changed."

Ruby crossed her arms uncomfortably, closing her cape around her. "It doesn't matter?"

"Of course it doesn't," Blake said. "We weren't ready when Cinder attacked Vale. But we fought that battle, and we lived through it. We won. And we weren't ready when – when Tyrian attacked us in the dark, but we fought that battle. We lived through it. We won."

She uttered that word – won – as if she were ashamed it ever touched her lips. Like it was a mockery, or a sad reality she wanted to convince herself wasn't true.

"There will always be a battle to be fought. On and on and on," Blake said. "And we'll always fight it, because that's what we do. Until the day we don't."

A moment passed.

"That's bleak," Weiss said into the silence.

"Maybe it is," Blake said. "Maybe I'm just being realistic."

"You never struck me as the realistic sort, Blake. Just the contrary."

Blake shrugged. "Maybe some things do change."

They fell silent, and in that silence Jaune stood with his heart beating soundly in his ears and a tight feeling in his chest. He hated what Blake was saying, and he hated how a part of him agreed with it. And he especially hated how he could see the same thing in Ruby and Weiss' faces.

How did they get to this point?

"Look, maybe Blake's got a point," he said. "But also, no, you're being really dumb in a way."

Blake blinked. "I am?"

"You're right that all that big picture stuff, it really doesn't matter most of the time," Jaune said. "Obviously it's important, but I didn't know about any of it when I signed up with Beacon. I just wanted to make something of my life, you know. Help people. I had no idea I was going to fight Grimm, and get superpowers, and meet all of you guys. And you know what, there's a chance I'd be better off if I had said nope and walked away when all of that started to happen."

He paused, realizing he was talking a lot and everyone was looking at him, and for a second he felt like apologizing and not saying a word more. But they were listening, and what he was saying felt right, so he continued.

"All of us had that choice between doing something with what we were given, or walking away. But a lot of people don't get a choice like that. For most people things just happen to them and they don't have a choice except to accept it," Jaune said. "So yeah, our lives may be a bunch of fighting, but that's what we're doing it for. To give those people a chance to make a choice. That is what matters, and it hasn't changed."

He turned, looking at the spot in the room where, not a day earlier, Ozpin had stood, where the life had been drained from his body in mere instants. When Jaune thought of that moment, what he remembered was not the blood or the way the Director had clung to his cane until the last second. What he remembered was the look in Ozpin's eyes, that quiet and determined serenity, even as the light in them vanished.

"I think he got that too," Jaune said, "in the end."

The weight of the sword on his back was hard to ignore now, but he welcomed it. He felt an arm pass around his torso, and bowed his head to look down at Ruby.

"I'm glad you didn't walk away," she said.

Jaune smiled. "Was that a good speech?"

She hugged him tighter. "It was okay."

"Great, for a second I was worried I sounded like an idiot," Jaune said. "Does that mean you'll listen to me and get some actual rest now?"

Ruby pushed away from him, rolling her eyes. "Ugh, fine. I'll try," she said, "after I get some stuff done." She looked at Weiss. "Can you help me bring some food outside for Nora and Ren? They're watching Amber, and I bet they're all hungry by now."

Weiss looked from him to Ruby, something like fondness in her eyes, before she nodded. "Of course."

They walked away together, leaving Jaune standing in the living room with Blake on the couch. He looked away from her, suddenly conscious of the oppressive silence around them and the fact that a minute ago he'd been filling it with what probably sounded like childish nonsense to her.

"Jaune," Blake said. "Come here."

Jaune was more than a little scared that she was going to leap to her feet and kick his ass when he got close enough, but running away didn't sound like a very dignified thing to do. He approached Blake, stopping beside the couch.

"I want to show you something," she said, and grabbed the hem of her left sleeve. She stared at it for a few seconds, hesitating, before she rolled it up to her shoulder. As the sleeve passed her bicep, Jaune saw it in a vertical cut across it, not deep but long and harshly red.

Jaune hissed. "Crap baskets, Blake! That looks awful. Why didn't you say anything?"

"My Aura's taking care of it," Blake said. "And it doesn't hurt that badly."

Glaring at her, Jaune put his hand over the cut and started to feed his Aura into hers to heal it. She flinched at the touch, and it occurred to Jaune that he should have asked for permission first, but he couldn't bring himself to care much.

"You shouldn't have kept it hidden."

Blake glared at him, but didn't move away or tell him to stop. "It happened when I was fighting Tyrian," she said. "It was his tail, actually."

If Jaune's eyes could have popped out of their sockets, they would have done so right then and there. "His tail? Blake-"

"I'm not dying." Blake brought up a hand. "It was just a graze. I think that's what saved me."

"Oh." Jaune sighed. "Well that's a relief."

"Yeah. A relief." Blake was silent for a moment. "You're not going to like hearing this, but when I realized he hadn't killed me, there was a part of me that was-"

She didn't finish that sentence, letting it linger in the air between them like a foul wind.

"You were right," Jaune said. "I didn't like hearing that one bit."

Blake hunched her shoulders. "It was just a passing thought."

"If it was just that, you wouldn't be telling me about it," Jaune said. He'd finished healing her arm, but he didn't let go of it. "Blake, you know you don't deserve to die. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"And we'd all miss you if you were gone. Seriously."

"I know." Blake pushed his arm away and stood up, forcing him back a step. "This isn't a cry for help. You think I want to die? I don't. I just know that there's a chance I'll die doing what we do. But if I do, it's not going to be because I made it easy. I'll fight like hell."

Jaune raised his hands placatingly. He really was not equipped to do this, and he was starting to suspect Blake might actually hit him in the head if he said the wrong thing. "Alright, fine. I was just worried about you. I'll back off now."

Blake sat back down, her ears flattening atop her head. "Thank you. And sorry. I didn't mean to get heated."

She sat quietly for a minute, while Jaune stood nervously in front of her. Gosh, she'd really made a mess of the blankets with all the moving she'd done.

"I told you that because I understand what you were saying earlier. I even agree with it," Blake said. "But there's a point when the fight becomes too much. You forget yourself in it. I've seen it happen to good people before, and it scares me that I might have crossed that point already."

"I can guarantee you haven't crossed that point," Jaune said. "You're like, the first person I'd trust to know the right thing to do in a hard situation, Blake. I mean that."

Blake frowned. "Your blind faith is exactly what I don't want."

"Well, it's not blind. My eyes are working pretty well, last I checked," Jaune said. "And it's not just me. You've got a bunch of really good people around you. There's no way we'd let you lose yourself like that."

"If only it were that simple."

Jaune wished he knew what to say, but no grand speech was coming to him this time. He felt like a loser, not able to help a friend when all it took was the right words. Killing Grimm was much easier by comparison.

"But I'll be fine," Blake said, after a long stretch of silence. "As fine as I can be. And I'm not just saying that."

She looked up at him, and he saw in her eyes that sharpness he knew her for, even if it was tainted by a deep tiredness.

"Alright," Jaune said. "I believe you."

"Good," Blake said. "Now, if you could stop hounding me, I'd like to sleep."

"You're the one who called me over to talk," Jaune said.

"Leave."

Jaune gestured with his hands and started to leave.

"Oh, and before you go," Blake said, lying down on the couch- "I'm also glad you didn't walk away."

Jaune grinned. "Me too."

---

Ruby slipped inside Yang's room.

"Yang, you awake?" she asked as she closed the door behind her.

Yang shuffled in her bed, her back towards Ruby, but didn't say a word in response. Ruby took off her boots and then her cape, draping it over the back of a chair, before she approached the bed.

"Do you mind if I sleep with you?" Ruby asked. "I think we both kinda need it."

Yang shook her head vaguely, which Ruby took as an okay. She lay down on the bed beside Yang, taking great care not to disturb her, though she couldn't resist wrapping her arms around her. Ruby had grown a lot over the past few years, not enough that she was as tall as her sister, yet Yang felt very small compared to her right now, scarily so.

"I'm sorry I've not been there for you as much as I should have. You took care of me so much," Ruby said into Yang's shoulder. "Things are just crazy." And you don't know the half of it.

"It's alright," Yang mumbled, and Ruby wondered if it really was. "Let's just sleep."

And Yang did sleep, or at least she pretended really well. When Ruby tried to follow her example, a hundred worries plagued her mind, and worse yet, images of her Mom and Cinder and blood and Grimm.

She pushed it all back under the surface, into the depths where they ceased to exist, for now. And in their absence, exhaustion set in, and finally, mercifully, it overpowered her and lured her into a fitful sleep.

---

Things did not feel right when Pyrrha woke up. That did not mean they felt wrong, but rather that they felt different. Strange. Not as they ought to be – not as she thought they ought to be.

She sat up on Weiss' bed, letting the bedsheets fall to her lap, and for a minute she did nothing but sit there, breathing, thinking. She contemplated letting the despair in her heart drag her back down so she might sleep again, and only wake when night came around, or tomorrow, or next week. But although the despair was still there, lodged in her breast like a sleeping beast, its snores forewarning an abrupt awakening, it was now dulled. To let it reign her would be performative, and Pyrrha had taken a great dislike to such dishonest practices in recent months.

So she didn't lay her head back on the pillow. She looked at Jaune, and by his snoring, there was no question whether he was asleep or just pretending for her sake. She swept his hair off his eyes, wanting nothing more than to wake him up so they might talk for hours, about nothing, about everything. But he looked so peaceful, and sometimes Pyrrha preferred that companionable silence even better than she liked talking with him. She decided this was one of these times.

Time stretched on, she didn't know for how long, before she realized she couldn't sit here all day. There was someone she needed to talk to, and after that life would carry on, one way or another.

She bent over to kiss Jaune softly on the forehead – he mumbled something about scorpion tails and giant robots in his sleep – and slipped from the bed. She put on a robe over her nightclothes, then quietly slipped from the room, making sure the door didn't squeak as she exited.

Her heart twinged as she passed by Yang's room and heard a creak that betrayed no sleeping was happening in there. Then she passed the guest room where Nora and Ren were staying, and took some small comfort in that the only noise she heard was soft breathing.

She arrived in the living room and saw Weiss and Blake sleeping together on the couch, the latter resting her head on the other's shoulder. Pyrrha draped a blanket over them, then quietly stepped over to the kitchen, where she produced a mug from a shelf and started the process of brewing herself some jasmine tea.

Ozpin was always fond of tea, or coffee, though half the time he carried a mug around with nothing in it – and Pyrrha had rarely seen him without a mug in hand. Perhaps it was a comfort thing, or it was an impression he wanted to leave on people. Pyrrha had never quite figured out that mystery. It was the same with his cane, though she supposed she now knew the reason he always had it on him, just in case. Ozpin was always cautious.

With the tea finished, she went out the front door and skirted the outer walls of the house, nursing the steaming mug between her hands. Ozpin's place of rest soon came into view, the spot marked by a smooth rock and nothing else. Amber was kneeling before it in the exact same pose Pyrrha had last seen her yesterday, and Ruby was by her side, whispering to her with subdued urgency.

When she saw Pyrrha approach, Ruby stopped whatever she was saying and sprung to her feet. "Pyrrha! What are you doing out here?" She stared at Pyrrha like she was a newborn puppy who had strayed far from its litter, or a decrepit old lady who had wandered off from the nursing home. Neither were flattering comparisons, but the concern still touched her.

"I couldn't sleep another second," Pyrrha said. "I thought I'd check on Amber, but I see you're already on that."

"Yeah, she's… not doing well," Ruby said. A bowl of dry pastries sat untouched by Amber's side, as well as a water bottle. "I'm worried she's gonna pass out, and then…"

"I can stay with her. Maybe I can convince her to eat something," Pyrrha said.

Ruby looked at her, a deep frown on her forehead. "Are you sure?"

"I'm happy to help," Pyrrha said. "And I'm sure you have other things that require your attention. Let me ease your burden."

Ruby wrestled with that for a few seconds before she relented, and then, for reasons wholly unrelated to Amber, hugged Pyrrha fiercely. Pyrrha lifted her arms to avoid spilling the hot tea over them both. For the first time this morning, Pyrrha smiled, though it was a small thing.

"Thanks, Ruby."

Ruby stepped back and smiled at Pyrrha. She turned and walked back towards the house, cape fluttering behind her.

Pyrrha knelt beside Amber. She stared at Ozpin's meager gravestone, wishing that they had something more fitting to honor his memory, and wondering if this had been the best place to lay him to rest. But if he had any family, Pyrrha wasn't aware of it, and she reasoned that any blood relatives had surely passed away by now. The closest people he'd had to family knelt before him now.

Pyrrha took a sip of her tea, then offered it wordlessly to Amber. The Maiden of Seasons sat still for seconds, and those seconds stretched into minutes, until she finally stirred, and Pyrrha didn't know if it was from the smell or something else altogether. She looked at the tea, now cool, and then at Pyrrha.

"It's jasmine," Pyrrha said. "Your favorite."

Amber took the mug, her hands dropping as she accepted the petty weight of it. Pyrrha helped her bring the mug to her lips, and only when she became sure Amber wasn't going to drop it did she let go.

"How did you know?" Amber asked after she'd taken a sip.

"Because it was his."

Amber drank deeply, so deeply that there was barely anything left when she was done. Pyrrha accepted the mug back and sipped what remained of the tea. Amber was silent again. Pyrrha began to fear she might not speak again.

But Amber did speak again. "It wasn't your fault."

"What?" Pyrrha said, though she knew exactly what Amber meant.

"You didn't kill Ozpin. No more than I killed him," Amber said. "You may feel guilt, if that is what you must feel. It is not mine or anyone's place to dictate the grief of others. But know that he would find it lamentable, and I would agree with him."

"But it is my fault," Pyrrha said. "He wouldn't have left the safe room if I hadn't said – everything I said. I made him feel like a monster. How could he stand by after that?"

"How very presumptuous of you," Amber said, and her tone carried nothing but kindness, "to assume he acted the way he did solely because of one distressed girl's outburst." She eyed the mug, as if wishing she hadn't drained it so quickly, before she looked Pyrrha in the eyes again. "If not entirely incorrect."

Pyrrha didn't know what to do with that. She didn't know what to do with any of this.

"Ozpin lost touch with himself when he was broken," Amber said, "and he lost himself further in the time I was gone. Caution and perseverance turned to fear and desperation. It made him do terrible things. You know this."

She cupped Pyrrha's face with one hand, taking a loose strand of hair and tucking it behind her ear.

"You set him back on the right path, bit by bit, sweet girl, and he was so grateful to you," Amber said. She turned somber. "My only regret is that you had to be the one to do it. It should have been me. It's the Maiden's duty to steer him right."

"Is that what the Maiden is, then? His conscience?" Pyrrha asked, mouth dry. "He is – he was hundreds of years old. Thousands. And yet it was so easy for him to lose his way, all because you weren't there. Does that sound right to you?"

Amber smiled, and though Pyrrha was sure it wasn't meant to patronize her, she felt so anyway. "Is that not the way of the world, for the old to teach the young, and for the young to correct them?" She looked at Ozpin's grave. "We often made the mistake of thinking we were special. We were painfully not."

To Pyrrha, Ozpin and Amber's relationship still sounded anything but normal. But she hadn't had a father the way most people had, so perhaps that was on her. And she was, indeed, still very young.

"I'm sorry. I guess I wouldn't understand," Pyrrha said. "I haven't had many meaningful relationships in my life. Jaune – I feel like I've known him all my life, but in truth we've known each other for a little more than four years. Same with the rest of the team. It's nothing compared to what you had with Ozpin."

"Four years, four thousand," Amber said, her eyes twinkling. "The difference is negligible."

Four thousand years of losing each other. Of finding each other. Of fighting side-by-side against an evil that refused to die. If Pyrrha had that with Jaune, she wondered if she'd still love him at the end of it all.

"I want you to give me your blessing," Pyrrha said.

Amber looked at her as if she had been expecting nothing else. "How fast you changed your mind."

"I was wrong to refuse without considering things thoroughly. And with Ozpin dead and your condition worsening, things couldn't be more clear." Pyrrha saw the look on Amber's face and shook her head. "This isn't an emotional decision. If becoming the next Maiden is what it takes to stop Cinder and her master, then that's what I have to do."

"Oh, child, you don't understand what you're asking," Amber said.

"Maybe I don't," Pyrrha said. "But I understand what is important. If I can save people from getting hurt, then there's no question."

Amber bowed her head to the grave, as if consulting Ozpin through the layers of dirt that separated them. If she was truly contemplating her answer or just giving Pyrrha an illusion that she was, Pyrrha couldn't tell.

"No."

Pyrrha pressed her fingers hard around the tea mug. "No?"

"No," Amber repeated, holding Pyrrha in her older-than-eternity gaze. "I will tell you what I told Cinder Fall. Being the Maiden of Seasons is not about power. And unlike what you think, it's not about fighting Salem. It's about connection."

Pyrrha frowned. "To Ozpin?"

"Yes," Amber said, "and more."

She looked at the sky, scrunching her forehead as if trying to recall something deep in her memory.

"Before I became the Maiden, and this really was a lifetime ago, I was isolated from the world," Amber said. "I had no one – almost no one – and I was ignorant of it. I existed by mere technicality, and I would have stayed that way if Oz and Fria hadn't shown up at my doorstep one day. When I became the Maiden, that's when I truly became alive. I was alone and then I was not, and it was a wonder I still cannot describe. I was more than just myself. I was connected."

"That sounds wonderful," Pyrrha said.

"It was. It's the story of every Maiden," Amber said, "and it's not your story."

"But I-"

"You have formed bonds stronger than you realize. You don't need the connection Maidenhood would provide you, because you already have it," Amber said. "When your friends came to your defense yesterday, that's when I knew it wasn't meant to be. So no, I can't give you my blessing. I will not."

Pyrrha put the mug down on the grass and clutched her hands over her knees, caught between crying and yelling furiously. Had Ozpin done this on purpose? Had he meant her to be the Maiden, and then changed his mind and allowed her this happiness? How dare he. How dare he.

Amber laid a hand on Pyrrha's back. She recoiled at the touch, before she eased, letting the Maiden trace circles on her high-strung muscles.

"You shouldn't fret over it much," Amber said. "All of that has been made moot anyways. I could still give you my blessing, if I wanted to, but it would be devoid of purpose."

Pyrrha looked up at her. "What do you mean?"

"Oz is gone. The connection is gone, and so I have no more say in where the Maiden's soul goes," Amber said. "When I die, Cinder will inherit the last of my power and become the next Maiden. And when she dies, our tale will be over." She closed her eyes. "What a tragic fate, to be the last Maiden. I will try to be kind to her, and I hope the others will try too."

Pyrrha had never been able to put together much empathy for Cinder Fall. Perhaps she would have been able now, knowing how Cinder had been used and discarded by Ozpin, except that she had also put them all in an impossible situation. The world might be about to end. Empathy remained off the table.

Amber turned Pyrrha's head to face her, a gleam in her eyes that was almost accusatory. Pyrrha drew back from it, her gaze falling on the untouched bowl on the other side of Amber.

"You really should eat something."

"I should, shouldn't I? Although it strikes me as wasteful. But I suppose I oughtn't pass out before my time," Amber said, and the little life that had returned to her throughout their conversation seemed to fade. "I truly ran myself haggard without noticing."

"You ran yourself haggard," Pyrrha said, "sitting." She hoped Amber understood that was a joke. Maybe a bad one.

"I wasn't just sitting," Amber said, melancholy. "I was trying to grow him a flower. A single daphne, that is all I wanted for him." She paused. "Do you know the myth of the daphne flower?"

Pyrrha shook her head no, and beckoned Amber to go on with a gesture. She ought to be bringing Amber inside now, sitting her down in the kitchen and making her eat something warm. But she supposed there was no harm in listening to a story first, if it made her happy.

"The myth tells of a man who lived a long time ago, longer than anyone alive can remember," Amber said. "This man had a daughter, and he loved her with all his heart. She grew up healthy, and strong, and clever, until one day a terrible fate befell her, and she died. The man was inconsolable. He could not accept that she was gone, and so he traveled to every corner of the world, begging every spirit of nature, every great powerful mage, and every god there was, to please bring his daughter back to him. But no matter their power, the answer he got from them was the same – his daughter was dead, and so she would stay, as that was the way of the world."

Amber stopped, and Pyrrha realized she was shaking, shaking so badly that it must pain her, and silent tears rolled down her cheeks from translucent eyes.

"But the man would not give up. He journeyed back home, kneeled before the grave of his daughter, and there he started to tear at his own soul, to bring her back with his own power. And after much suffering, when he lay half-dead, the girl rose from the earth, just as he remembered her. He was overjoyed, but that happiness would not last, for his daughter told him she could not stay. She had to go back into her grave, but before she did so, she brought out a flower from her own chest, where once her heart had beat – a single daphne, as beautiful as she had been – and placed it upon the palm of his hands. The flower healed his torn soul, and then she returned to the earth, never to see him again. The man placed the daphne in a vase, and for the rest of his days the man would stare at that flower before every sunrise and before every sunset, at peace now that his daughter would always be with him."

It took a moment for Pyrrha to realize the story was finished. She jumped, wiping an unsuspecting tear from her eye.

"That was a beautiful story," she said, and after a moment, "What about the girl's mother?"

"The mother?" Amber frowned. "I can't say I know. If she has a story, it might not be one fit for a fairytale."

Pyrrha nodded. She wondered what was truth in these fairytales Amber told, and what was invention. Ozpin had a propensity for stories too.

"We should go inside now," Amber said. "I've tarried here long enough."

"Are you sure? I don't mind staying here with you a little longer," Pyrrha said.

"Thank you, but tearing my soul over his grave won't bring him back," Amber said. "I think he would like me to do something useful with the time I have left. I know it's what I want."

Pyrrha stood up and offered her hand. Amber took it, and rose to her feet on trembling legs. She seemed too young and too old, detached from the world and fiercely attached to it.

"We ought to gather your friends," Amber said. "I know what Cinder's next move is."

---

Cinder woke from her slumber the vibrations of the Nevermore moving atop her. She screwed her eyes shut and rolled onto her side, grasping her hands at her heart as if by doing that she could keep hold of the darkness that enshrouded her. But it was soon dispelled by sunlight and a gentle morning breeze, and she could no longer hide from the world.

"Wakey-wakey. Baby got her nap?"

Cinder sat up abruptly, opening her eyes, and thrust her arm out before her. A shard of obsidian flew from the palm of her hand, burning the air around it, and sunk into Tyrian's chest. He jumped back, hissing and swiping wildly with his tail.

"You stupid child!" he hollered. "Why would you do that?"

Cinder rose to her feet, forming another longer shard in her hand. "You were watching me in my sleep, freak. You're lucky I didn't cut off your head for that."

"I was waking you, you ungrateful wench! Did no one teach you any manners?" Tyrian glowered at her for a moment more, before he suddenly halted his tail and removed the shard from his chest. The groan he made as it popped free and blood trickled from the wound made Cinder's stomach turn in disgust. "Ah! I did like that, but remember, consent is vital. Do try and remember that for future endeavors."

Tyrian grinned at her, and Cinder turned her back to him. She let her blade fall to the grass, where it dismantled into dust. She didn't need it to make him suffer. Cinder could feel her new wellspring of power growing within her, and she knew that with it she could tear Tyrian apart and he'd be helpless to stop her. It would be excellent practice, and a stress relief, but she knew he would enjoy it, and that was what ultimately stopped her.

That, and the prickling in her arms and neck. Her eyes were drawn to the center of the clearing, and there she saw a Seer. With a crystal ball-like body and six wispy red tentacles underneath, it floated nearly motionlessly in the air. Like most of its species, it would be little threat to all but the most helpless prey. But Seers were designed for other functions, and looking at the white smoke expanding within it, Cinder knew what this one was here for.

"That's right," Tyrian said, skulking over to her side. "Our Goddess has deigned us worthy of a glimpse of her most glorious self." He scratched his chin with the tip of his stinger, smiling from ear to ear. "Of course, I've been in her presence, knelt before her actual feet so many times that I've lost count. Oh, if only you weren't so fragile that you could survive the trip. But you're not jealous, are you, Cinder-poo?"

Cinder moved to silence him with a jab to the neck, but a loud crack from the Seer stopped her. The glass-like surface of its body started to fracture, the white smoke inside pushing against its inner limits, until with a final snap, the Seer split into two jagged halves and fell to the ground.

The white smoke rose from its lifeless remains, spiraling upwards and slowly taking form. Tyrian threw himself to the ground at the sight, prostrating so low he was nearly sucking dirt in through his nostrils. It was a frankly pathetic sight, and Cinder would have sneered at it if she weren't so busy dropping to one knee herself, her body thrumming with nervous energy.

For an impossibly long time, she kept her head bowed low, eyes fixed on the grass and the dirt. An invisible force wrapped around her, terrifying and comforting, more powerful than the feeling any Grimm could awaken in her. And when she finally dared to lift her head and behold Salem, she couldn't look away.

Like everything about her, Salem's appearance was a war of contradictions. She was beautiful, a woman in her prime untouched by the passage of time, fair of skin and hair, but all that was marred by the blackened veins that ran the lengths of her arm and her face, and a malevolent diamond embedded above red eyes. Even as a projection she exuded power, a palpable force of will with which she would warp reality to fit her very desires. Yet beneath that terrible aura lurked an unspoken invitation, a promise that if you were only to take her hand and serve her, she would turn your desires into reality as well.

Salem spoke, and her voice did not come as if from another world. It was a tone rich and full, burrowing into whoever heard it and lingering within them long after the words had faded.

"My champions. Rise."

Tyrian sprung to his feet with sickening enthusiasm, only to hunch over to almost touch the ground again in some ridiculous attempt to obey his queen's command and still humiliate himself in her honor. Salem indulged him with a hint of a smile, which had him shuddering with joy, before she turned her gaze to Cinder.

"That includes you, Cinder."

After a moment's hesitation, Cinder stood upright. Killing her nerves, she met Salem's eyes again and this time did not lose herself in their macabre infinities. "My queen."

"Mother of Night! She Who Will Split Earth and Sky!" Tyrian bowed even lower. "We grovel at your presence!"

Cinder looked at him askance – you mean you grovel – but kept her mouth shut.

"Your devotion is well appreciated, Tyrian," Salem said, holding him firmly in her gaze until he took the hint and straightened up. Cinder could never tell if Salem truly enjoyed his worship of her or if she found him repugnant. "But I don't appear before you to be praised. I wish to confirm the fruits of the work I entrusted upon you both."

She moved towards Tyrian like fog gliding over the surface of a lake, and cupped his chin, her fingers leaving wispy trails in their wake. She studied him with such an intenseness that even he couldn't help but balk, her eyes boring deeply into his before they strayed to look upon his tail. Minutes passed before finally she released him.

"I couldn't bring myself to believe it," Salem whispered. "You have Ozma."

Tyrian smiled. "The king is dead. Long live the queen."

Cinder hid her fists behind her back. So Tyrian had managed it after all. She should be jumping for joy at the news of Ozpin's demise, yet all she could feel was bitterness and a mounting fear. Tyrian's success only put her failures into bigger prominence.

"But how could you allow this to happen?" Salem said, speaking no longer to Tyrian, and for as perplexed as she sounded, there was a mirth in her voice like Cinder had never heard before. "You have vexed me for so long. Such bullish resilience, I could almost admire you. And this is how you choose to end your struggle. What is your play here?"

She was silent for a moment, as if listening for a response that would not come, before she focused on Tyrian again.

"How did you accomplish it?"

"The fool left himself exposed fighting alongside those idiotic children," Tyrian said. "The opportunity couldn't have been greater if he'd asked me personally to run him through. But it was a magnificent feat nonetheless, if my lady will forgive a little grandstanding."

"It was my plan that placed Tyrian there to take that opportunity," Cinder said, glaring at him. "It was my plan that divided Ozpin's forces. My plan that left him exposed." She sneered. "Without me, his brilliant plan would have been to throw himself mindlessly at our enemies, and he would have failed to kill a single one of them."

Tyrian whipped his tail at her. "And who did you kill, you hypocritical brat? Did you kill the half-dead Maiden? The squeaky little girl?"

"Enough," Salem said, silencing him and Cinder at once. "If it matters so much which of you gets the credit, then you will split it. But I would hope my followers had grander aims than stroking their own egos."

Cinder bowed her head while Tyrian uttered a dozen apologies in a single breath.

"What am I to do about him, my Goddess?" Tyrian asked. "Shall I off myself repeatedly until his soul expires? I will gladly di so if that is my Goddess' want."

"I wouldn't tempt fate with such extreme measures. Ozma's curse is beyond even my understanding," Salem said. "You need not do anything, Tyrian. What I want is for him to experience isolation as he has inflicted upon me. Give it a few thousand years, and then I may show him clemency." She swept her hand through the air. "It won't matter, soon enough. When I have gotten my way, none of these earthly concerns will matter."

She was silent for a moment, basking in a soon-to-be glory, and for a moment Cinder was drawn to bask in it too, before Salem looked her way and chilled her to the core.

"As for you."

Salem hovered over to her and cupped her chin, and though Cinder's examination was much shorter than Tyrian's, it was no less excruciating for it.

"You are still no full Maiden," Salem said. "Why is that, Cinder?"

"I almost succeeded in extracting the powers from the Maiden," Cinder said, "but I was interrupted. I was then outnumbered, and was forced to retreat before I could finish the job."

"And by that she means the little girl got in her way, so she tucked her tail between her legs and ran," Tyrian said. "Oh, how tragic. The drama, the tears!"

Cinder clenched her fists. "You-"

"Tyrian, leave us. I will call you when you are needed," Salem said, and Tyrian obeyed readily, bowing twice and vanishing into the depths of the woods – but not before he stopped to grin venomously at Cinder.

For the first time in her life, Cinder regretted Tyrian's absence. Without him, Salem's attention lay solely on her, and Salem's attention was complete and suffocating.

"Ruby Rose took a stand against you," Salem said, "and you ran."

Cinder nodded. Of course Salem knew what had transpired. She seemed to know everything, always, defying all opposing logic, and Cinder should have remembered that from the start. Salem didn't need Cinder to tell her anything, but she wanted to hear it from her own mouth.

"I was outnumbered," Cinder said. "I could have overpowered her, but Nikos was there, and her other allies. Your assistance was dwindling, I had few remaining Grimm on my side-"

"Are you blaming me, Cinder?" Salem asked.

"No. Not at all, my queen," Cinder said hastily. "I am simply saying that I recognized the tides of battle had turned against me, and I acted accordingly. And I didn't leave empty-handed. I may not be a full Maiden yet, but I will be very soon. Amber won't last much longer."

Salem regarded her for a moment. "You are a master of half-truths, child," she said. "It's what you had to learn to survive, so I will forgive you for lying so brazenly to me, even though you should know better."

"What half-truths I am telling you, my queen?" Cinder said, and though she knew how insolent she was being, she couldn't stop herself from speaking.

"Extenuating circumstances aside," Salem said, "compassion was the real reason you fled from the battlefield yesterday."

"Compassion?" Cinder said. The word tasted strange in her mouth. "I have no love for Amber."

"Not her. The girl, yes," Salem said, "and her mother. Because after all these years, you still carry the weight of Summer Rose's passing on you. A weight I was assured you'd discarded." She pursed her lips, displeased. "You keep repeating the same mistakes, Cinder. It's very disappointing."

Cinder wilted. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, there was silence, then Cinder felt Salem's fingers on her chin again. Salem lifted her head as if she were truly standing before her, and Cinder had no recourse but to look into her eyes.

"I am not angry with you, Cinder," Salem said. "It's natural for you to regress on occasion. You are, after all, only human, regrettable as that may be."

Cinder frowned, and for some reason she kept speaking. "I should know better."

"Indeed, you should," Salem said. "I have told you, Cinder, you have nothing to feel guilty about. Summer Rose was an unfortunate casualty, yes, but she was no good for you anyway. She was an illusion. Another half-truth. One you were better off without."

"She said I was one of hers," Cinder said smally, not even processing the words she was saying before they left her mouth.

"She said that, and yet her actions spoke otherwise," Salem said. "She didn't take you away from Ozpin's machinations, as she promised. She didn't give you a proper home, as she promised. She helped you where it was easy, and sacrificed nothing. If she truly saw you as a daughter, there is nothing she wouldn't have done for you."

Salem's fingers brushed her cheek and the wound on her brow, ghosting along her skin like tiny kisses, before they came to rest atop her hair, still matted with blood, and begun to untangle and smooth it over.

The faux-contact reminded Cinder of nights slept with a full stomach, and the euphoria of escaping windowless prisons. She wondered how she could have so easily forgotten.

"Do I make you empty promises, Cinder?" Salem asked.

"You don't," Cinder said. She looked up at Salem and nodded. "I won't show mercy again."

"Good," Salem said, her fingers leaving Cinder's scalp as she glided back. "Although, in the case of Ruby Rose, I ask that you employ some restraint. Crush her if you must, but keep her alive."

She turned away, her eyes straying as if studying the horizon of her realm. For a second Cinder held still, not quite processing the new information, before she started to make connections in her mind.

"Keep her alive," Cinder said. A lot of things started to make sense now. "I understand."

Salem looked at her again and nodded. She gestured with a hand, the contours of her body starting to lose definition as the smoke that made her image turned opaque.

"All said, your failure is but a hiccup in my plan," Salem said. "Ozpin has been removed from play, and you will soon be my Maiden of Seasons. When your powers have fully awakened, then we shall proceed to the next stage."

Cinder pondered that for a second. "Actually, my queen," she said, "it might not be prudent for us to wait that long."

Salem turned to look at her, compelling her to elaborate.

"We might have dealt them a major blow, but Ruby and her allies won't take that lying down," Cinder said. "Amber is still alive and with them. That means there is a window of time, however small, that they can yet interfere with the plan. I know where I must go now. If I can beat them there, then we won't have anything to worry about."

"That course seems fraught with danger," Salem said. "I am a patient woman, Cinder. It would be wiser to wait. And as you said, the window of time is small."

"The wisest thing to do would be to not underestimate our enemies, as I've done."

That might have been the most impertinent thing she had said so far. She felt it in the way Salem gazed at her, her skin seeming to lose even more color as her eyes darkened, and Cinder was very glad they were not in the same physical plane right now. But she didn't bow her head or ask for forgiveness, and in time Salem's gaze lightened.

"I suppose I ought to trust your judgment in this," Salem said. "You believe you can carry out the task? Your wounds are still fresh."

"I've endured worse," Cinder said. "Callows might prove useful, if you would permit me to use him."

"Then take him with you. I shall lend my assistance as well. My resources are not yet drained."

Cinder nodded and took a step back. Salem's form was nearly transparent now, the smoke dissipating in the air, but her eyes still burned darkly as they gazed upon Cinder.

"And Cinder," she spoke, her last words before she faded, "don't fail me again. Get me my Relic."

---

"What the heck is a Relic?" Ruby asked.

There was silence for a few seconds, before Weiss raised her hand and spoke up. "An object of great historical significance that survived to the current day, its value typically tied to a connection to civilizations and people otherwise forgotten."

"I – I know what a relic is, Weiss. You know I went to school, right?" Ruby rubbed her forehead. "There's obviously a capital 'r'in there."

"Oh. I didn't go to school." Weiss lowered her hand sheepishly. "Please go on."

Ruby turned her attention back to Amber, something she felt slightly guilty for, considering everyone in the room was already looking at her as if she was going to either turn to dust without warning or proclaim that they were all already dead and doomed. To her credit, Amber didn't appear unnerved in the slightest, just tired.

"The Relics are objects of great power, each of them more powerful than any Maiden that has ever lived," Amber said. "There are four of them, and each represents one aspect of mankind. They are Creation, Destruction, Knowledge, and Choice. Used in tandem, they are capable of altering the very fabric of our reality. That was how Oz and the first Maiden banished Salem to the world of the Grimm long ago."

"Okay," Jaune said. "That's a lot to take in."

"And Cinder is after one of these Relics?" Pyrrha asked.

"Three of them were lost long ago, and unable to be recovered," Amber said. "The Relic of Knowledge, however, has been safeguarded by the Maiden for centuries. Cinder wasn't capable before, but with her newfound power she can locate Knowledge and retrieve it. And once she has Knowledge, it's my belief she'll be able to track down the lost Relics, and bring them to Salem."

"And with all four Relics, Salem undoes the spell keeping her from Remnant," Jaune said. "That's game over for us."

"That is the gist of it, yes," Amber said, and with nothing more to add, sank into her chair and closed her eyes.

Ruby bit her lip. Something about the word Relics had been bothering her, the sound of it when Amber spoke it. In the brief lull that followed, she finally realized why – because she had heard Amber speak it before this conversation, when Ruby had inadvertently seen into her memories.

But asking about that would reveal that she knew more than she had let on. Besides, there were more important things right now than something that had happened thirteen years ago.

"So we know Cinder's goal, we just have to stop her," Ruby said. "Where's the Relic?"

"The entrance to its hiding place changes periodically. Just one of many spells that protect it," Amber said. "Today, we would find it at the peak of Mount Sirocco, and that should not change for a few days."

Nora gasped out loud, and Ruby saw dread dawn on Pyrrha and Ren's faces.

"What?" Ruby asked. "I've never heard of this Mount Sirocco, where is it?"

"You wouldn't recognize the name, it's largely fallen out of use outside of Haven," Pyrrha said. "It's the mountain the city is built on." She paused. "The capital of Mistral. Most populated city in the country."

"Oh. That's not good," Ruby said, and it really felt like an understatement. "That's not good at all."