Yang watched the team load into the Huntingbird with feigned indifference, which she realized she was only doing to protect herself and likely no one was buying it. Preparations had started immediately after Amber had dropped Weekly World-Shaking Revelation #17 on them, but seeing as there weren't that many preparations to be made, the team was pretty much already on their way to Mistral.
For Nora and Ren, this would be their first flight on the Huntingbird. Too bad it was in such terrible circumstances.
"Yang," Ruby said, hopping over to her side. "So I know it sucks, but-"
"Yeah, I know. I can't go," Yang cut her off with a shrug.
Ruby blinked. "It's just not safe."
"You don't need to convince me. Trust me, I get it," Yang said. "I wasn't meaning to go anyway. I mean, what was going to do, shake my stump threateningly at Cinder?"
Ruby's expression fell. This was not a version of her sister she liked, and Yang had to admit, she didn't like herself like this much either. She hated to hurt Ruby like this, but Ruby was a big girl. For Yang's own sake, she had to be blunt.
Yang chose not to bring up the fact that Amber was going, of course, even though she could barely take a step on her own. Ruby said nothing about it either, though Yang was sure it was on her mind too.
"Okay," Ruby said after a few seconds' thinking. "Maybe you should stay somewhere else while we're gone, though. You could get a hotel in town."
"Eh, it's not like the house's gonna fall on me. And hey, if it does, getting outta the rubble will be good physical therapy," Yang said. "Unless you think Salem and her goons are gonna try and get me while I'm alone."
"I dunno, Yang. They might."
"Nah. I think they've got bigger fish to fry right now."
Ruby didn't seem very convinced, and to be fair, Yang wasn't so sure herself. Well, she was pretty sure that she was too insignificant to be targeted by the bad guys. And if they did target her, then what the hell were they smoking? But the possibility of it did scare her. Yang still saw the phantom of Tyrian Callows in the corners of her vision, in the rare moments she forgot she was miserable, and it chilled her to the bone every time.
So absorbed in her thoughts Yang was, she almost didn't notice Ruby was no longer looking at her. She was looking at the house over Yang's shoulder, her face scrunched in confusion and - surprise, maybe? Annoyance?
Ruby shook her head and said, "I guess you'll be safe enough." And before Yang could follow her line of sight, she stepped forward and wrapped her in a bear hug.
"Oof!" Yang patted Ruby's head with her one hand. "You be safe too, alright? Don't do anything dumb. And don't let anyone else do anything dumb."
"That's a tough ask, but I'll try," Ruby said. "Did you know that it's really hard to stop people from doing dumb stuff?"
Yang snorted. "Where would I have learned that?"
They hugged each other tighter, a world of weariness briefly shared between the two of them. They parted, and Ruby held Yang's hand for a moment, before she turned and went to the jet.
As Ruby left, Yang felt the eyes of someone else on her. Weiss was one of the last people yet to board the Huntingbird, though she didn't seem to be busy with anything other than staring at Yang with, again, that look in her big blue eyes.
"What?" Yang spat, and she was sorry to find it came out as caustically as she intended it. "Am I disappointing you again, oh gracious one?"
Weiss bristled, her lips pressing into a fine line and eyes losing all warmth. Her hair, tied into a short braid, whipped in the air as she spun around and stormed inside the jet.
A couple minutes later, the jet flew off with everyone inside, and as had become quite typical, Yang was left feeling like a grade-A asshole. Would it really have been so awful to try and make amends? To ask Weiss to be safe as well? It's not like any of that called for anything like a goodbye kiss.
Although, that would have been nice, in a totally non-advisable way.
"You're getting in your own head again," Yang mumbled to herself, rubbing her nose. She needed to go back inside and pass out again. Or do anything else, rather, because she couldn't stand sleeping anymore.
She turned, and saw a raven perched on the edge of the roof. It peered down at her with beady red eyes, blinking, head tilted subtly to the right. Yang stared right back, wanting to not believe what she was seeing, but this was too perfect a bookend to the shittiest week of her life.
"Oh hey, Mom," she said sweetly. "Can you hold on a second?" Yang looked down around her feet, searching for the perfect rock. Finding a nicely rounded one, she picked it up, tested its weight in her hand, then threw it at the raven. "Fuck yoooou!"
The rock missed by a mile – Yang had been a terrible throw before she lost an arm. The raven skittered on the edge, spreading her wings wide and screeching what must have been a slew of really foul insults in bird language. Yang flashed her middle finger in return.
"I am so not dealing with you right now," she said, and walked inside. The raven tried to follow her in, but Yang closed the door in her face. "Stay out!" Yang yelled, and went to close every possible entrance into the house.
The interior of the Huntingbird hummed as it tore through the air. Going at top speed, they would get to the east coast of Mistral in a little over six hours, and from there it would take a couple more hours to get to the capital. That was pretty good time, though it still didn't seem fast enough to Ruby. But there was nothing to be done about it, unless she figured out a way to upgrade the jet on the fly – which she thought was a little out of the scope of her mechanical know-how.
"Alright, guys," she said, walking into the back of the jet and facing everyone there. "I talked with Qrow, and Beacon's working with the local authorities to evacuate the city. They're treating this like a major Grimm crisis, which I guess this might actually turn into if things go bad."
Jaune shook his head ruefully. "Things are probably gonna go bad."
"Will there be enough time to get everyone out?" Weiss asked.
"It's a big city," Pyrrha said. "Probably not."
"We don't have a timeframe. Cinder might already be there, or she might be lagging behind us," Ruby said. "We can't be sure of anything, so let's work on the assumption that this is going to be another Vale and be ready for anything."
Nora raised a hand. "Ren and I weren't in Vale. Do you think there'll be explosions?"
"Yes, and Cinder will probably be there, smirking her lips off," Jaune said. "Like Ruby said, be ready for anything."
"Yup," Ruby said, in what were truly the words of a brilliant leader. "But we're not there yet. Everyone keep their cool until then."
That got a wave of agreement from the team, though the mood was still grim. This was always the worst part, the calm before the storm. Ruby wondered why they called it that. As far as she was concerned, the calm came during the storm.
With no one needing her attention, Ruby headed back the way she came, and slid aside the door to the cabin between the cockpit and the hangar. It was a cramped space with a sorry excuse for a bed that came down from the wall. Amber sat atop it, leaning against the corner, eyes closed and knees drawn up to her chest.
"Amber," Ruby said, crouching beside the bed, and Amber just slightly reacted to the sound of her name. "How much time do you have left?"
"Do not fear," the Maiden said, eyes still closed. "I swore not to leave you with the mess Ozpin and I created, and I intend to live up to my word. Even if it's the last thing I do."
"It won't be the last thing you do," Ruby said.
Amber smiled. "There are mountains even your optimism can't move, sweet Rose."
"It's not just optimism. You're not dead yet, which means this can still be fixed. I'm not giving up on you, not until you've taken your last breath."
"We both know there is only one way I survive this day, Ruby," Amber said. She opened her eyes, and for the briefest moment they seemed to burn golden just like Cinder's. "If that's the only alternative, then I would rather stay this course and pass on."
That didn't sit well with Ruby. "Really? After everything she's done, you still want to spare Cinder?"
Amber fixed her gaze on Ruby, and as they often did, her eyes seemed to peer into her very soul. "You don't want the same?"
Ruby had plenty of answers to that, but they all jumbled together in her head and died before any reached her lips. And that was for the best. She didn't need to, and couldn't answer that question right now. But she would, when the time came, when everything was clearer.
She took Amber's hand. "Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?"
"Your company is more than enough," Amber said. "And I might enjoy Pyrrha's later, if she's willing. Tell her I promise not to tell any fairytales."
"I think your fairytales are nice."
Amber chuckled. She lifted her hand to cup Ruby's face, tracing the contour of her cheek with a thumb, and then the curve of her eye. A part of her thought she should be weirded out – even Yang had never done stuff like this, not even when they were kids – but there was nothing bad about Amber's touch. It brought Ruby images of sitting in nature, the sunlight kissing her face while soft winds passed by.
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about your mother before," Amber said. "Would you like me to tell you about her now?"
Ruby felt her throat tighten. No, she wouldn't. "You've told me about her already."
"But there is more, and I think you should hear it," Amber said. "You know that she died the same day my soul was shattered." She gestured at her face. "You know that now, as do I."
So Amber knew that Ruby had seen her memory. Ruby had suspected it from the way she'd been looking at her.
"She saved my life that day more than I can remember. We were beset by Grimm, and Cinder, and I could scarcely defend myself," Amber said, soft as a whisper. "The might of nature in my hands, and a knife to the back was all it took to render me helpless. I should have died then. But Summer would not allow it. She fought until she was bloodied, and afterward she carried me to safety, and kept me breathing long enough to be rescued." She slipped her fingers through Ruby's own, squeezing her hand. "Fate was not so merciful to Summer. She succumbed to her wounds shortly after help arrived."
Even before Ruby had learned she'd been an agent of Beacon, she had always imagined her mother had died for some noble cause. At fifteen, that imagined scenario had become reality, even if some part of her knew it wasn't exactly like that. And yesterday it had been confirmed.
But it wasn't like she had pictured it. Summer Rose hadn't gone out in a blaze of glory. She had been betrayed, and she had bled, and she had lost her strength at the edge of hope.
Ruby remembered what Amber had said to her, days before, a lifetime ago, in a hospital in snowy Atlas. That she reminded her so much of her mother. Ruby felt her heart harden in her chest.
"What did it matter?" she said. "Thirteen years later, and you're going to die anyway."
Amber placed a hand atop Ruby's. "I thought you were sure I wasn't going to die."
"You – you aren't going to, but-" Ruby covered her face with her hands and groaned into them. "Cinder got what she wanted."
Amber smiled at her, as if she knew something Ruby didn't. "Ruby, if I was powerless to defend myself, and Cinder had all the advantages of her ambush," she said, "how do you figure I am alive to speak with you today?"
"You just told me," Ruby said, scowling. "Mom saved you."
"Yes. She stood between myself and Cinder, and faced with her, Cinder ran away," Amber said. "Just as she did yesterday, when you stood between us to protect me." She paused. "A kind heart can't fix everything, Ruby Rose, but it can make a difference."
The words only served to confuse Ruby's heart further. "Mom's dead."
"True kindness, you will find, always comes at a cost," Amber said, and once again she brushed Ruby's face with a gentle touch, "but let no one tell you it doesn't bear its rewards."
The General did not look peaceful. That was something people often said, when someone is asleep, even when they are grievously injured – that they look peaceful. Penny suspected that was a fabrication people utilized to comfort themselves, though she had no data to validate that hypothesis. She noted it down as a worthwhile study to pursue later, whenever she had time for it.
[Wish you were here.]
The General had gone through a total of five rounds of surgery in the last forty-eight hours, performed by a team of the most capable professionals in Atlas, and even a few recruited at haste from abroad. So far they had replaced the right side of his torso and his arm. They had been able to keep only a pitifully small percentage of his real body. The rest was now metal.
[Wish you were here.]
The General had asked her a question, before he went under for the first round of surgery. He had looked at her and, in a way most unlike himself, had asked her what her thoughts were. Once all the procedures were done, and he was more machine than man, would life be the same, or would everything be forever changed?
[Wish you were here.]
The General had asked her, and Penny had not known what to say. After a few seconds of calculating and re-calculating, she had answered as truthfully as she could, because lying to the General would be against proper conduct. She had told him that she didn't know the difference, and in all certainty never would. She was what she was, and had always been. And she had also told him she knew he would be okay, regardless of how things might change, because he was and would always be General James Ironwood.
[Wish you were here.]
Penny wanted to know the difference. She wondered how it felt to have real skin. Real nerves. Real organs and real hormones and even real blood. Was it a terrible or wonderful thing? No amount of research came up with a consistent answer.
[Wish you were here.]
The General. The General.
[Wish you were here.]
Focus on the General.
[Wish you were here.]
A loud noise made her jump as something crashed against the bed table beside her. A metal tray clattered on the floor. Her fist was unusually outstretched in that direction. The logical conclusion, which she made in the fraction of a second after the incident, was that she had been the one to hit the table and produce the noise. Why she had done that, on the other hand, was a query without solution.
The door opened. Winter Schnee entered the General's private room, her stress levels slightly above resting. "Penny? I heard a noise. Is everything alright with the General?" she asked.
"My apologies, ma'am. I made the noise by striking this table. It was not by design," Penny answered. "It seems I did not wake him, thankfully."
Winter walked over to the bed, relaxing when she laid eyes on the General. "He's resting," she said. "That's good. He'll need all his strength."
Penny nodded.
[Wish you were here.]
She blinked, and Winter was staring at her with a curiosity that crossed well into concern. "Penny, are you feeling alright?"
"I do not feel, ma'am," Penny answered automatically, and then said, "Ma'am, I would like to ask you a favor. May I?"
"Of course. Whatever you need."
"When you have time, I would like you to get in contact with my father. I believe my programming has become defective, possibly due to the incident in Vale, and it might get much worse if it's not fixed soon. And please tell him he might need a full team to take care of the problem," Penny said. "I would contact him myself, but I must devote all my attention to General Ironwood. I am very regretful to bother you with this."
Winter did not answer immediately. She appeared disconcerted, which Penny found odd, considering her request was perfectly reasonable, and she had been very proper in her conduct.
"Alright. I will get in touch with Dr. Polendina for you," Winter said, and put her hands on Penny's shoulders, "but first you must tell me why you think your programming is defective. I won't do it otherwise."
That was a bother, but reasonable. "That is the problem, ma'am. I have not been able to self-diagnose," Penny said, "which is why I require my father's attention."
"Tell me the symptoms, then."
Penny scrunched her forehead in thought, which she hoped was a good mimicry of what she had seen other people do.
[Wish you were here.]
"The main issue has something to do with my communications system, it appears," Penny said. "I have been in conversation with Ruby, or at least I had been, before I disabled all incoming messages except from you. Yet I am still receiving her messages, even after I specifically blocked them. That is quite concerning. My security protocols might be compromised."
"I see," Winter said. "And why did you not want to talk with Miss Rose anymore? Did she say something to offend you?"
"No, not at all!" Penny said, and quickly regulated her volume. "She was simply informing me of everything that has been happening with her team. Their situation is quite difficult, and it seems she is under a lot of pressure. The last thing she said was that they were flying to Haven to deal with something, and that-"
[Wish you were here.]
"-she wishes I was there. Perhaps she believes I may be useful to her efforts." After a moment, Penny realized she hadn't answered the actual question. "Apologies. I ceased communications because I cannot afford to be distracted. I must devote all my attention to General Ironwood."
Winter listened, and as Penny finished talking, her lips curved in a slight smile, as sad as it was amused. The contradiction bothered Penny.
"I am no expert, Penny, but I believe your 'programming' is working without issue," Winter said. "Have you considered you're still receiving Ruby's messages because you want to receive them?"
"That makes no logical sense," Penny said.
"It makes perfect sense," Winter said. "She's very special to you. Of course you would be concerned about her, even when you don't want to be."
"But that is against my primary directive."
"People go against their primary directives all the time, Penny. Most of the time, actually."
Something really must be wrong with her programming, because Penny almost hit the table again.
"Well, that is not how I'm supposed to work!" she said, her volume shooting up yet again despite her command. "I was built to protect Atlas, and I can't do that if I'm distracted by – by things that I'm not supposed to feel. My father will fix me. He'll make me the way I was supposed to be, without these contradictions!"
Winter gripped Penny's shoulders harder, all levity gone from her face. "Then you'll have to take that up with him," she said, "though I seriously doubt he'll entertain this nonsense."
"You said you would call him for me!" Penny shouted. "You're not supposed to lie!"
"Quiet! You're going to wake the General," Winter said, and Penny forced her systems to cool down. "I said I would call him after you told me your reasons, and I don't approve of them. There will be enough people in your life who will try to reduce you to nothing more than a tool to be used at their whim. That you should want that for yourself is a tragedy and an injustice, and I will have no part in it."
Penny couldn't say anything in response, and she found herself frightened. Interpersonal communication was never a simple task, each conversation packed with infinitesimal complexities, but by relying on her databanks and her pre-installed protocols, Penny managed to navigate them with sufficient success most of the time.
Most of the time. Sometimes there was no use. Sometimes she couldn't decide on the right answer, or like right now, she couldn't even tell what her options were. This had happened before, and it was always frightening.
[Wish you were here.]
Sometimes frightening was good. Contradictions – not all of them were bad. There were some she sought out.
"What am I supposed to do, then?" Penny asked. "How am I supposed to function like this?"
"I think a better question, Penny," Winter said, "is what do you want to do?"
"I want to be there."
In the instant after she gave her answer, Penny was momentarily confused. Had she processed it? Had she run it through all the steps? She must have. She had simply missed it. Another bug.
"Then it seems clear to me what must happen next," Winter said. "If you leave now, you should arrive at Haven in time to help your friends. Make a beeline and do not stop for anything. I'll get clearance with airspace for you."
"But-" Penny said. "I want to go, but I can't. General Ironwood's orders were to protect Atlas."
"I understand. This is hard for you, so allow me to make it easy," Winter said. "I speak for the General while he is undisposed. He gave me that authority, you can check it yourself." Penny didn't need to. "I'm changing your orders. You're to leave for Haven post-hate and assist the Hunt to the fullest extent of your abilities. Understood?"
"But I'll be leaving Atlas unprotected," Penny said. "That's against the General's orders."
"Is it? The way I see it, by protecting Haven, you'll be protecting the entire world," Winter said. "The last time I checked, Atlas was part of the world."
Penny saw what Winter was doing. It was very clever, if not bordering on treasonous.
"General Ironwood will be furious when he wakes up," Penny said. "And you'll take the blame."
"Indeed," Winter said, perfectly poised.
"That's not like you," Penny said, frowning, and Winter raised an eyebrow at her.
"You put far too much stock on primary directives."
Penny realized, then, that Winter was entirely right and she had been entirely wrong. Without calculations, she stepped forward and wrapped her superior in a hug. Winter gasped, seemingly taken off-guard, and they stumbled for a few steps before Winter righted herself and awkwardly patted the top of Penny's head.
"Right. That is quite enough." Winter cleared her throat, and Penny let go of her. "Now leave, before I have to reprimand you."
Penny saluted. "Yes, ma'am!" she said, and ran out of the room, searching for the nearest balcony to take off from.
Yang brought her leg around in a high kick, slamming her ankle on the side of the target dummy's head. She watched the dummy sway back and forth, happy to see that the force of her kick had it almost touching the floor. When the dummy stopped moving, she pulled back her leg and set her foot back on the ground.
Yang shuffled on the spot. Her center of mass felt all kinds of wrong, which she thought was pretty stupid. How much had her arm weighed, anyway, that losing it made such a difference? It shouldn't make such a difference. But it did.
Before she started training, she'd had the dumb thought – hope, really – that adjusting her fighting style would be as simple as pretending to have her left arm tied behind her back. She'd actually done that a lot in her kickboxing days. But back then she had been so above her opponents, it wasn't even funny, and that was without accounting for her Semblance and Aura. More than that, if by a fluke she had ever lost to them, the worst injury would have been to her pride. No torn-off limbs or chomped heads.
No, adjusting was going to take work. A lot of work. Her left side was pretty much useless now, so she needed to rely entirely on her right for defense and offense. Her right shoulder should always be facing the enemy. And she needed to unlearn years of muscle memory and keep her left arm flush to her side. She needed to rely less on tanking hits and more on avoiding them, but she also needed to make herself firm as a tree on her feet, because pushing herself up from the floor was a lot harder when she had one less hand to work with.
She stared at the dummy, wondering how things might have been different if she had always fought this thoughtfully. Maybe she wouldn't be in this situation then.
In a flash of anger, she kicked the dummy straight in the middle. It flew off its base and shattered on the wall across from her in a shower of splinters and plastic.
"Ah, shit," Yang said, staring at the mess from afar. Maybe the others would think the Grimm did it?
A low clapping echoed throughout the training room. Yang spun around, her muscles all tensing. She already knew who was there.
"Well done," Raven said, sitting on a box near the corner. "All those years of kicking kids in the face finally paid off."
"It's called kickboxing," Yang said, "and it already paid off way before this. Not that it needed to pay off, it's a sport." She grabbed a water bottle and glared at Raven. "I told you to stay out. Did you not notice that I locked all the windows?"
Raven stared at her, unphased. "And that was supposed to stop me?"
"It was supposed to be symbolic!" Yang said. "I guess it's my fault for expecting you to read the fucking room."
Raven crossed one leg over the other, and said nothing in response. Furious, Yang uncorked her water with her teeth and spat out the lid, before gulping down half the bottle in one go.
She wiped her mouth and started looking for a new dummy. "What are you doing here anyway?"
"Am I not allowed to check up on my daughter?" Raven said, zero pretension on her face as she stared directly at Yang's stump. "I knew something bad happened, and I was worried."
"Oh, were you? Isn't that cute." Yang huffed. "I know what your game is, by the way. Mentioning my kickboxing classes, 'subtly' reminding me you were watching all these years. But also pretending to not know what they were about, because you can't come off that attached, right?"
Raven stood up, and for a moment Yang was ecstatic, thinking she had successfully pissed her off enough that she was going to leave. But instead Raven walked to a pile of rubble and lifted an undamaged dummy out of it. She walked over to Yang, set the dummy in front of her, and gave her a lasting look from up close.
"Here."
And then she walked back to her box and sat down, crossing her legs again.
"I didn't need your help," Yang spat, and she didn't need the look Raven gave her to feel like a tantruming toddler. "Whatever. I can't make you go away, clearly, so at least be quiet and don't bother me."
"Message received, ma'am."
Yang bit off a retort. She turned to face the new dummy, deciding to let out her frustration on it instead. And then she remembered that she was supposed to be doing things more patiently now. She took a deep, long breath, and eased into a fighting stance, turning her right shoulder towards the dummy.
Behind her, Raven scoffed.
Yang whirled around. "I told you to be quiet!"
"Oh, I'm so very sorry," Raven said. "It's just hard to watch this inane posturing and not say anything."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Yang asked, putting her hands – hand on her hip.
"It's this constant back-and-forth, that's what's driving me mad," Raven said. "Couple hours earlier, you let your friends go 'save the world' without you, didn't even put up a fight about it. And now you're here, kicking at imaginary foes, all prepped up to fight another day. Make up your mind, either you've given up or you haven't."
Yang shook her head. "You're un-fucking-believable. You really think you can show up outta nowhere and start talking to me like-"
"Don't change the subject."
Raven stood and marched over to Yang, eyes like blood rubies staring her down, and for all she wanted to, Yang couldn't meet her gaze. Yang bowed her head, feeling small, frail, as if the rest of her body could vanish as it had started to in the snow.
"You have no idea what happened to me," Yang muttered.
"I don't need to know," Raven said brusquely. "I warned you this would happen. I warned you. I warned your sister. And did you listen to me? No. And look where it's gotten you."
"Did you come here to gloat, then? You wanted to throw this in my face?"
"I'm here because I thought now you'd finally get the message, but no," Raven said. "You're as stupid and bullheaded as ever."
Yang frowned. "Wait, you want me to give up?"
"Of course I fucking do!" Raven said, like Yang was stupid. "Does it look like I want you to fucking die?"
And Yang did feel stupid. Stunned, she looked in her mother's eyes, past that intense red anger, where fear coiled and burned greater than anything else, and she wondered how she could have possibly missed it.
"This-" Raven grabbed Yang's left arm and raised it, shook it, until she was forced to look. "This was luck. Do you understand that?"
"I had to do something," Yang said, tears in her eyes. "Someone could have died."
"Yes," Raven said, "and maybe next time someone will, and that someone will be you."
Raven let go of her arm, and Yang let it drop weightlessly to rest at her side. They stood in that silence for she didn't know how long.
"So what am I supposed to do? Walk away from all of this?" Yang asked.
"That would be a good start," Raven said. And after a long silence, "You could come with me."
"And what? Run away and hide?" Yang said. "Is that what you've been doing this whole time?"
And by the look in Raven's eyes, Yang realized that was exactly the truth.
"I don't know," Yang said. "I don't know."
She sat down on the floor, more tired than she'd ever been in her life. Raven stared at her, and for minutes she remained that way, until she turned and walked out the door, leaving Yang alone with her thoughts.
Qrow took a perverse pleasure in shoving Lionheart through the doorway and watching him trip and nearly fall on his face. The winds were fierce this high up Haven, and somehow it didn't surprise him that Lionheart wasn't accustomed to them. Qrow would wager a leg that he was never far from shelter whenever he visited the upper levels of the city.
"Watch your steps, mister Councilman," Qrow rasped. "Wouldn't want you to take a tumble over the edge, would we?"
Lionheart cleared his throat, sending an irate look back at him. "Is this roughness really necessary?"
"Ozpin's dead. Yes, it's necessary," Qrow said. He shoved again, even harder. "You should be grateful. If it were up to me, I'd have handcuffed you to a table and left you behind. What'd you figure your chances would be then?"
Lionheart got real quiet after that, continuing towards the rescue airship that awaited him at the edge of the cliff, already filled with other high-profile servants of the city. That he was grouped with those people after what he'd done rankled Qrow more than he could say, but getting him out of harm's way was the smart thing to do, even if he'd rather toss Lionheart off the mountain. Qrow wasn't done with him yet, and neither was Beacon.
Beacon and him. They were one and the same now. Perhaps not officially, but he was dead certain Ozpin's will would be done in the end. The realization had struck him several times in the past twenty-four hours, laden with grief, anger, and discomfort. The Director had been an enigma wrapped in secrets, unknowable even to Qrow, as he'd found out after the end – and now he was Director.
Qrow's earpiece crackled. "Sir, we've got a lock on Cinder Fall."
Qrow let Lionheart go ahead on his lonesome. There was nowhere for him to flee to, unless he was planning to climb down the mountainside, in which case he was welcome to try.
"How far?" Qrow asked.
"Five kilometers from the city limits. She's approaching from the air, sir, on a winged Grimm."
"She have any more Grimm with her?" Shit, he hoped not.
"None that we've detected, sir. What should we do?"
"Just keep tabs on her, and whatever you do, don't get in her way."
"Sir?"
The agent on the other side mustn't have watched the news for the last three years, which was the only explanation why they didn't understand. If there was one thing Qrow knew about Cinder Fall, it was that she was perpetually in a bad mood. Any agents approaching her were only liable to getting shot out of the sky and massacred.
"Just do as I say."
Qrow walked towards the edge, looking at the west horizon, where the clouds were darkening. A storm was brewing. How eye-rollingly fitting.
Cinder Fall would be touching down at the peak of the mountain soon. He would meet her there. He was no match for her on his own, but he could slow her down, hopefully long enough for his niece to arrive with reinforcements.
Was that what being Director entailed, waiting for the kids to show up and clean up house? Glynda must be so relieved she didn't get the job.
The roar of an engine starting cut through the winds. He didn't know how he'd missed it, but the rescue airship was taking off already. No clearance. He supposed he could have missed that too, but he hadn't survived to adulthood by ignoring that chill in his chest.
Stepping off the edge, he shifted into bird form and swerved towards the airship. He soared past the windows on the side – Lionheart was inside, and everyone else, but they were panicked – and put on a burst of speed to come around to the front. He turned in midair to look at the cockpit.
The pilot was bleeding on the floor, and on his chair sat Tyrian Callows, the dead man's hat balanced mockingly atop his head.
First came the shock, and then the anger – Qrow saw Ozpin's body lying in a freshly dug grave, a hole in his chest – before he shook it all off. Qrow hovered in the path of the airship to meet it head-on. He'd shift back and crash through the glass, wrest control away from Tyrian. But as he spread his wings for stability, the madman looked up from the controls, and smiled at him.
Tyrian pulled on the controls, and the airship took a nosedive towards the districts below.
Shit!, Qrow squawked in bird language, and flew after it.
Raindrops splattered on the windows of the Huntingbird.
"Oh, hey." Jaune nudged Pyrrha with an elbow. "Look at that. It's our thing again!"
Pyrrha appeared confused for a moment before she caught his meaning. "Is that a bad omen?"
"I don't know, we ended up just fine last time," Jaune said. "Let's maybe not pretend to break up this time, though."
Pyrrha grinned lightly. "I can agree to that."
Across from them, Nora was mock-swinging her hammer as if readying for battle, while Ren looked out the window with trepidation in his eyes. Blake was checking the ammo on her gun, only her locked shoulders betraying how tense she was. Weiss sat by herself, looking far away.
"Jaune?" Pyrrha called softly, and he turned to look at her again.
"Yeah?"
"If I had to… If it came down to it," Pyrrha said. "Do you think I should become the next Maiden?"
She had a look on her face he knew very well – that 'I know I'm right about this, but what if I'm wrong?' expression that, for some inexplicable reason, she aimed at him from time to time.
"I thought Amber said that can't happen anymore," he said.
"She did," Pyrrha said. "But you never know." She noticed the uncomfortable look on his face and pursed her lips. "Please be honest with me. Answer as if you were in my shoes."
"Me, becoming a Maiden?" Jaune blinked. "Sounds great. But you'd still be into me, right?"
Pyrrha didn't answer him, didn't as much as pretend to smile, and he got how serious she was about this.
"Well, if it came down to it, yeah," he said. "If lives were on the line."
Pyrrha nodded. Her mind was set before Jaune had said anything. It made him wonder why she even asked.
"Amber made it sound like it was a wonderful thing," Pyrrha said. "But then why would she forbid it for me?" She was silent for a moment, before she spoke again. "You would be okay with it, right? If I began to change. You wouldn't have to be okay with it, I just-"
"Pyrrha," Jaune interrupted her. "Answer as if you were in my shoes."
She leaned on his shoulder, her doubts seeming to evaporate in an instant. "I'd love you no matter what."
Jaune raised an eyebrow, and that was all the explanation necessary.
A couple minutes passed before Ruby joined them in the back of the jet. Amber came right behind her, leaning bodily on the wall to keep herself standing.
"Ten minutes to Haven," Ruby announced in her team leader voice. "And we got bad news."
Nora stopped swinging her hammer. "Oh, joy!"
"What happened?" Weiss asked, snapping from whatever trance she was in.
"Tyrian hijacked a rescue airship with Councilman Lionheart and a bunch of city officials on it," Ruby said. "He crashed it into a building and now he's holding them hostage inside."
"That is bad news," Jaune said. "And straight out of Cinder's evil playbook. She's using the hostages as a distraction."
"Yup, and we have no choice but to play into her hand," Ruby said. "She just landed on the peak."
A wave of dismay passed through the room.
"We're screwed, then," Nora said. "She's gonna have the Relic by the time we get there."
"Not all is lost yet," Amber said softly. "The Relic is protected by magics Cinder doesn't understand, and she isn't entirelywelcome there. It will take her time to get to the Relic, time enough that we may catch up to her."
Ruby nodded. "What she said." She clapped her hands. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do – three teams. One to help Qrow with Tyrian and the hostage situation. Jaune, you're in charge of that."
"That makes sense. I'm famous for my smooth-talking skills," Jaune said, but nodded to Ruby to let her know he wouldn't let her down.
"I want another team on standby for anything that comes up. Let's face it, there's going to be trouble, and it'll probably be Grimm," Ruby said. "Weiss, I'm trusting you with that."
"Yes, ma'am," Weiss replied at once. "I mean, Ruby."
"And then I'll be taking Amber to the Relic," Ruby said. "Cinder's in the way, and it'll probably come down to a fight, so Pyrrha, can you come with?"
Pyrrha nodded, and Jaune knew she was going to volunteer before Ruby even asked. "Yes."
"It'll be dangerous," Amber said. "I would go alone if I had the strength for it."
"That doesn't change my answer," Pyrrha said.
And that settled it.
"Okay, before we start deciding who goes where," Ruby said. "We've got three priorities, and let's not forget them. They couldn't fully evacuate the city in time, so we have to protect the people still there. That's priority number one. Priority number two is to get the Relic. If this ends and Cinder has it, we're screwed." She paused. "And priority number three, we take down Cinder and Tyrian. That's way down the list."
Jaune thought taking down those two seemed much more important than number three – in fact, all priorities sounded like they were accomplishing the same thing to him – but he got where Ruby was coming from. It was good to put an order to things.
"Hear, hear," he said, and everyone else sounded their approval as well.
"Good," Ruby said. "Let's pull this off, team."
The Relic called out to her. Cinder could feel it in the thrumming of her skin, and in every beat of her heart. It was right in front of her, but a world away. When she reached for it, a veil stood between them, manifesting in translucent ripples in the air.
Thunder boomed in the distance. A second later, a light drizzle started to fall on her, heralding a greater storm.
Cinder lowered her hand, and found herself unable to step forward.
Thirteen years. She had come so close then, had paid the price in blood and tears, and squandered it. Her courage had failed her, her strength, her better judgment, and thirteen years she had paid for that mistake. Thirteen years to return to this point.
But this had been in the making for more than just thirteen years. This had been her destiny since that first whisper she heard in the dark, and even before that, since the first time she felt dust heating under her fingers. It had been her destiny since the moment she'd come clawing into the world, born into life in blood.
Blood. It always came down to blood.
Thunder boomed in the distance again, and for a second she had the mad certainty that the storm had come just for her. She turned her face up to the heavens, feeling the water drops on her cheeks, and thought about that name she'd taught herself never to think about.
Summer.
With her heart set, Cinder stepped forward and crossed the veil.
"Keep going," Amber panted. "It's just up ahead."
They reached the last step. Ruby helped Amber over it, keeping a firm grip on her arm while Pyrrha supported her on the other side of her. The Maiden shuddered, eyes half-lidded, but kept standing.
Ruby looked around the peak, tilting her head to keep the rain off her eyes. There was a shrine up ahead, some tiny praying statue dedicated to a deity or spirit she didn't know, as well as flowers and sprouts arranged around the rims of the peak. From this vantage point, Ruby could turn in place and have a good look at all the districts that comprised Haven below.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Ruby asked. "I don't see anything."
She didn't know what she had been expecting, maybe some glowing portal or a conspicuous door, but there was nothing waiting for them.
"You don't see it?" Pyrrha said, jutting her chin forward.
Ruby looked, but she saw only the empty space in front of the praying statue. Puddles were starting to form on the uneven ground, but that hardly seemed important. "See what?"
"I don't know." Pyrrha blinked. "I don't see it anymore."
"A glimpse of the veil. You're not familiar enough to see it truly," Amber said, every word an effort. "Luckily you don't need to. Help me forward and I'll take us across."
They started towards the invisible spot, though Pyrrha seemed hesitant. She looked over Amber's head at Ruby. "Maybe we should go on ahead without her. Get to the other side, that's as far as she goes."
Amber laid a hand over her heart. "You wound me, Pyrrha."
"I don't want you to get hurt," Pyrrha said. "We're going to be fighting Cinder."
"Perhaps. And perhaps these won't be my last breaths," Amber said. "Either way, you cannot stop me from following you."
"You heard her," Ruby said. "We're here. It's too late to change our minds."
They were close to the statue now. Ruby stepped on one of the puddles, the water soaking through her boots making her grit her teeth. In the same second Amber muttered something, they took another collective step-
-and the peak disappeared, the statue, the flowers, the city, the rain itself, all vanished. Darkness surrounded Ruby, darkness and a million colors. Grains of sand fell around her like waterfalls, while yet more grains instead rose in opposite motion, flying up and up and up until they could no longer be seen.
Ruby looked down. A trail of light shone beneath her, spiraling ever downwards, but though her feet touched it, she felt like she might float away at any moment. Suddenly a sharp pain drilled up the bridge of her nose into her skull. Ruby gasped and let go of Amber.
"Close your eyes," Amber said, and Ruby did. The pain lessened somewhat. She felt Amber's hand grasp hers. "I'm taking us down. Whatever you do, don't let go of my hand. That counts for you too, Pyrrha."
Amber pulled her forward by the hand. Ruby felt herself become weightless, before she started to slowly drop. It was a sensation almost like her Semblance, only drawn-out and strangely soothing.
"What am I looking at?" she heard Pyrrha say.
"This place was kept by a hundred Maidens and more before me," Amber replied. "They each left their touch on it."
"Why can I look while Ruby can't?"
"You know the answer, child."
Pyrrha took a few seconds to speak again. "Ozpin didn't prepare me for this. He never spoke a word of magic to me."
"It wasn't necessary," Amber said. "You had a bond, and that was enough."
Ruby shut her eyes harder. It was all she could do to try and fight the assault on her senses.
Eventually, her feet found solid ground again. "You can open your eyes now," Amber said.
The trail of light and all the colors were gone. Ruby and the others stood on sand, and it sprawled out in every direction until it was cut off by a raging sandstorm. She couldn't see anything beyond that.
Just a few steps in front of them was a lamp of rusted gold, glowing a gentle blue, and though Ruby had never seen it before, she knew it was the Relic of Knowledge. It wasn't a conclusion made with logic, or even a guess – she just knew. Something in her resonated with it, because Knowledge was, and had always been, a part of her.
Ruby took a step towards the Relic, but any thought of reaching out to touch it was cut short when she realized it was surrounded by an orb of swirling water and fire and live lightning and falling leaves. It was a tremendous force. She didn't have to know magic to know just dipping a finger in it would kill her.
And standing at the other side of the orb, a hand submerged in it to grab the Relic, was Cinder. Her fingers stopped short of reaching it, her face twisted in painful exertion.
Ruby stepped forward. "Cinder. Step away from the Relic."
Cinder looked up, her amber eyes locking with Ruby's through the maelstrom of elements between them. Dismay flashed across her features, then there was nothing but anger, and Ruby nearly took out her scythe before she stopped herself. Eyes on the prize, she thought.
"You," Cinder said, her gaze straying from Ruby to acknowledge Pyrrha and Amber as well. "I knew you'd come."
"Forgive us if we're not flattered," Pyrrha said, bringing up her rifle, but she didn't shoot. She must have come to the same conclusion Ruby had, that this was not the place for them to be picking a fight in. "Please just do as Ruby says."
"I think we all know that's not going to happen," Cinder said. Her hand didn't move an inch.
Amber stepped forward, standing on her own. The magic of the tower seemed to have reinvigorated her, or maybe it was just the severity of the situation.
"Cinder. Child. You don't know what you're doing." She eyed the orb warily. "The magic that protects the Relic is too dangerous. Even a fully-realized Maiden wouldn't dare tamper with it, and you are far from that."
"Am I?" Cinder said. "I nearly broke the world once. This doesn't scare me."
"It should," Amber said. "Take the Relic, and you'll unleash something beyond your control. You'll be destroyed, and everything around you. I know that's not what you want."
"Don't talk to me about what I want," Cinder snapped. A spark of lightning curled around her wrist and raced up her arm before it crackled at the tip of her nose. She turned her face away, and said clearly, "Salem wants the Relic. I'm going to give it to her."
"Oh, child," Amber said, her shoulders sagging. "Can't you see she's using you?"
Cinder laughed. "You think I don't know that!" She smiled, and it didn't have a trace of the arrogance Ruby had come to expect from her. "Yes, she's using me. Everybody is using each other. What's new? The only difference is that I'm getting something in return this time."
"Whatever Salem has promised you, she won't give it to you," Amber said.
Cinder looked at her, eyes burning darkly, like the flame of a candle nearing its end. "Salem doesn't give empty promises."
She was done with Amber then, gritting her teeth as she made another push for the orb. The magic kicked back against her, flames and frost and lightning lashing at her skin, but she barely flinched.
Ruby took another step forward. She gave a look to Pyrrha, and after a moment, she lowered her rifle.
"It's not too late, Cinder."
Cinder's concentration broke. "What?" Her hand jerked away from the Relic before she steadied it.
She looked at Ruby, arms tense.
"I said it's not too late," Ruby said. "Forget the Relic. Forget Salem. We can still work something out."
"Work something out?" Cinder repeated. "What could we possibly work out? I have – I have blood on my hands. I damned the world to the Grimm. How do you propose we fix that?"
"You can't take back everything you did, but that doesn't mean you can't make some things right," Ruby said. "You can start by giving the Maiden powers back to Amber. You'll be saving her life."
"And what, place myself at your mercy?" Cinder scoffed.
"We won't harm you," Pyrrha said. "We'll protect you."
"From Salem?"
"We're already at war with her, right?" Ruby shrugged. "Let her come."
"And the rest of the world? They'll want me to pay for my crimes," Cinder said. "I suppose you'll keep me locked up. Or leave the job to someone else. Why should I subject myself to that again?"
"You did it for Salem, once," Ruby said. "This time you'll do it because it's the right thing."
Cinder stared at her, not saying a word. She stilled, and slowly, the magic surrounding the Relic calmed. Ruby held a sigh of relief.
"Heroes and villains, Ruby," Cinder muttered, looking away. "I told you we should keep it simple."
"It is pretty simple," Ruby said. Things weren't over yet. Just a little bit more. "My mom believed in you. She knew you weren't bad."
Cinder blinked. When she looked at Ruby again, the amber of her eyes was scorching. "She was wrong."
She grabbed the Relic, and everything went white.
Jaune went up the stairs, taking it one step at a time. He wanted nothing more than to just run up them, but Ren's hand around his wrist reminded him to take it slow. They both needed to stay calm for him to maintain his Semblance, Ren had emphasized earlier, and the entirety of their plan relied on it. Jaune wasn't keen to screw that up.
Voices echoed down the stairway, growing louder as the pair climbed. Only when they reached the ninth floor could Jaune start to make out the words. They came from the other side of a door left halfway open, just enough space for them to slip through – which was lucky, or else Ren would have had to briefly drop his Semblance and risk detection.
On the other side awaited an open office floor, with clear signs of a busy workday interrupted by the evacuation. Papers strewn everywhere, computers left running, a photocopier pending mid-operation. Oh, and there was an aircraft through one of the walls, the cockpit intruding inside the room while the rest hung precariously off the side of the building.
The hostages were grouped up on their knees near a corner, Qrow stood in the opposite end of the room with his weapon drawn – and Tyrian Callows stood between him and them, a vicious smile on his face. He held Councilman Lionheart by the back of his collar, parading him back and forth gleefully. The Councilman did not look happy about it.
"We've got the whole place surrounded, Callows. You're not getting out of this," Qrow said. "What's your plan here?"
"My plan? Why do I have to have a plan? I'm just enjoying myself, and that's quite enough for me!" Tyrian replied, waving a chakram about in his free hand. "The question is, what is your ingenious plan? Go on, I'm dying to hear it."
Qrow scowled. "Give me a chance and I'll demonstrate."
"So just huffing and glaring, then." Tyrian sighed. "Disappointing."
Jaune nodded to Ren, and they started to sidle along the walls towards Tyrian. It must have been luck, but Tyrian couldn't have picked a better spot to crash into. There were only two ways into this floor as far as Jaune could tell, the stairs he and Ren had taken, and an elevator opposite them. And the windows, Jaune supposed. One of them was broken – Qrow must have made his entrance there.
Jaune drew his sword as they came to a stop. They were just a handful steps away from Tyrian, standing at a sideways angle from him, and he was none the wiser to their presence. His tail was coiled around his waist, Jaune was disappointed to find out.
"Please," Lionheart whimpered, clawing at his collar. "Can't you let me go?"
"Let you go?" Tyrian looked at him as if he'd never seen a less intelligent creature. "And why would I do that when we're having so much bonding fun together?"
"I did everything you asked. I cooperated!" Lionheart said. "Please, that has to count for something."
"Hmm. That is a decent point, you were a very obedient puppet," Tyrian said, scratching his chin. "Although, that does bring to mind that you're not very useful anymore, now are you? Plenty of meatbag shields huddled over that corner there. You're not that special."
"Please-"
"And besides! You know so much. Your continued existence is really nothing more than a risk, now that I think about it." Tyrian's tail uncurled and snapped around him. "And what better way to correct than to bring you into the fold? There's plenty of room still, and trust me, you won't be lacking for company…"
His stinger pressed beneath Lionheart's jaw, pushing the skin but not breaking it. It took on a purple hue, the light reflecting off the beads of sweat running down the councilman's face. Jaune gripped his sword tighter.
"Nah!" Tyrian exclaimed, withdrawing his stinger. "I couldn't stomach having a two-faced liar like you inside my head for the rest of my life. For starters, I'd never know if you actually enjoyed my company, and that's terrible grounds for such a lasting relationship. Pass!"
Lionheart gasped in relief.
"Leo, for fuck's sake," Qrow said, "stop squirming for a second and get your shit together."
"No, please, continue as you are," Tyrian said. "It's very gratifying."
His tail swished in the air now, close to his back, vulnerable but not completely exposed. It had returned to its dull brown colors.
"Now?" Ren asked, edging forward. "You go for the tail and I'll grab the Councilman."
Jaune shook his head. "We've gotta make it count. Give him no chance to react."
After a second's thought, Ren nodded. He gestured at the tail. "You really think it'll work?"
"It's the only lead we have. He doesn't care if he gets killed over and over, but he protects that thing like – well – like his life depends on it," Jaune said. "Where's Blake? We need that distraction right now-"
The distraction arrived just in time, though perhaps not as they had planned it. The elevator dinged, its doors opened, and Blake stepped out. Her pistol already drawn, she pointed it at Tyrian's face and said,
"It's Britney, bitch."
Silence reigned as, for a moment, absolutely everyone in the room stared at her, stunned.
Qrow seemed to recover first, yelling and waving his hands in the air "Belladonna! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Blake didn't look his way as she answered, "Putting an end to this."
"My favorite kitten returns! I'm so happy, I could murder someone!" Tyrian said. "And a Spearmint reference? Excellent taste, sister." He bared his teeth beside Lionheart's ear. "Unfortunately you haven't gotten any brighter, have you? We've talked about this. You can kill me baby one more time, but that won't end me."
"It won't," Blake said. "But putting a round in your brain will keep you down for a minute or two. Long enough to get everyone out safely and detain you."
"A more constructive plan than huffing and glaring, certainly." Tyrian pulled Lionheart against himself, bringing his tail up to once again press into the flesh of his neck. "But how confident are you that you can land such a beautiful shot without hurting poor little Leo?"
"Seriously, Belladonna. Think about this," Qrow said. "If there was a clean shot on him, don't you think my people would have taken it already?"
Blake didn't budge. She kept her pistol leveled at Tyrian, her finger resting gently on the trigger.
"I was ten the first time I held a gun," she said. "Sienna Khan put it in my hands, and then she put a bottle up on a fence fifteen meters away. I hit it on the first try. She made me do it over and over again until my aim was perfect. Then the next week she placed me back one more meter away from the fence. The next week, another meter more. And so it went. We stopped when she realized there were better uses for those bottles."
She eyeballed the distance between her and Tyrian, before she locked her gaze on him again, not saying a thing.
"And what was that little speech for? Was it supposed to make me whimper in terror?" Tyrian scoffed.
"No," Blake said. "This is." And took her shot.
Jaune flinched. He heard a strangled yell come out of Lionheart, and Qrow cursed out loud – but Blake's round missed by a large margin, whizzing over Tyrian's shoulder and bursting in a flash of neutralized Dust on the wall behind him.
Tyrian looked behind him, eyes wide. He blinked a couple times, then turned to look at Blake again. "All that talk, and you missed!" he said, grinning, his tail whipping away from Lionheart's neck and springing right up.
"Now!" Jaune yelled, and together with Ren, ran at Tyrian.
Ren dropped his Semblance, their presence suddenly revealed to the whole room, and tackled Lionheart away from Tyrian before he knew what was happening – at the same time that Jaune brought his sword down on Tyrian's tail, and with a single slice, severed it clean from his body.
When Ruby could see again, she realized she was back on the peak. The grass was frozen under her knees, and yet the acrid smell of smoke invaded her nostrils. A fierce wind pushed the rain onto her face. Her bones felt brittle, her lungs so heavy she could barely breathe.
A thunderous scream came down from the heavens. At least she thought it was a scream, because sound was the closest sense she could relate to whatever thing crashed into her core. She turned her eyes to the sky, and saw something flying in the storm – a creature like a snake, gigantic, and made of earth and fire, water and air.
As Ruby watched, the snake turned in the air, swooping past the peak just over her head – the hairs of her neck stood on end, and she felt electricity prickling her skin – before it went down the face of the mountain. It soared over the city, scorching the top of buildings as it flew past them or leaving them coated in ice, and all the while it screamed with such fury Ruby felt it burning in her own gut.
"Ruby!" Weiss's voice buzzed in her ear. "What is that thing?"
Ruby shook her head violently, trying to relieve the pressure pushing down on her. "I don't know," she managed to say eventually. "Magic. Things went very wrong."
"And they're getting worse!" Weiss said. "We've got Grimm incoming."
Ruby didn't have to look for long to see Weiss was right. Portals were opening in the sky, and Grimm soon came soaring out of them.
"Start working on a defense," Ruby said breathlessly, pushing herself up to her feet.
She turned her attention elsewhere as she heard her name in the wind. Pyrrha was kneeling on the ground, with Amber lying on the ground before her. Ruby fought through the punishing wind and rain to join them.
"Is she okay?" she asked, fear spiking in her heart as she noticed Amber's eyes were closed and she wasn't moving.
"I can barely feel her pulse," Pyrrha said, turning Amber's head this way and that, to no response. "I think she used the last of her power to protect us."
"There's Grimm coming, she can't stay here, we've gotta take her somewhere," Ruby said. "Where's the Relic?"
"I don't know."
Ruby looked around frantically, but there was no sign of the lamp anywhere. Realizing she was shaking, she closed her eyes and focused.
Get Amber to safety. Find the Relic. Join with the others. Protect the city.
She released the air in her lungs in a steady breath, and opened her eyes. When she did, she saw Cinder stumbling to her feet near the edge of the peak, ragged and dazed.
The rest of the world vanished.
Screaming Cinder's name, Ruby ran and tackled her off the edge.