AIRSHIP

The steady hum of the airship's engines filled the cockpit, accompanied by the faint beeping of various control panels. Through the expansive front window, the vast sky stretched endlessly, painted in soft hues of blue and white as they soared above the clouds.

Winter Schnee sat at the pilot's seat, her hands steady on the controls, eyes flicking between the instruments and the horizon ahead. Despite the tension of the mission ahead, she remained composed, her military training keeping her mind sharp and focused.

Standing near the front window, Weiss watched the sky pass by in silence before finally speaking.

"Since when do you know how to fly an airship?" she asked, arms crossed, glancing back at her sister.

Winter smirked slightly but didn't take her eyes off the controls. "Piloting an airship was one of the first things I volunteered for in the military." She finally turned her head toward Weiss. "It was a valuable skill, and I figured it would make me more useful. Turns out, I was right."

She pressed a few buttons on the console, activating the autopilot before standing up and walking to the center of the cockpit. A large map was displayed on a holographic screen, marking their flight path and their designated landing zone.

"We're a couple of hours away from our drop-off point," Winter informed Weiss, studying the terrain below. "After that, we'll be on foot."

Weiss frowned, stepping closer. "How far is the walk?"

"Half an hour. Maybe more, depending on the terrain."

Weiss sighed, rubbing her temples. "And the plan? Just… ask Ironwood to join us?"

Winter hesitated for a moment before letting out a quiet breath. "Not exactly."

Weiss's expression tightened. "Figures," she muttered. "So what's the real plan?"

Winter's tone remained neutral, but there was a distinct weight to her words. "We will try to reason with him. But given the circumstances, we'll likely be met with resistance. Ironwood will be armed, as will his soldiers. If they refuse to listen… we may have to fight."

Weiss's shoulders tensed slightly, but she remained composed.

"You're saying we might have to fight Ironwood?"

Winter's expression hardened. "Yes."

Weiss exhaled, moving to one of the chairs and sitting down. She leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before speaking again. "Just how much does Ironwood know about Cinder?"

Winter's eyes darkened slightly as she took a seat across from Weiss.

"Too much," she admitted. "Longer than any of us have even known about her, he was tracking her movements. Studying her."

Weiss's eyes narrowed. "How long?"

"Years."

Weiss's grip tightened around the armrest.

"Every encounter, every attack, every moment of footage—he documented it. He knows her strengths. He knows her weaknesses." Winter's gaze dropped slightly, as if recalling something unpleasant. "But he never shared that information. Not with me. Not with anyone. Not even when I was a Specialist."

Weiss frowned. "Why not?"

Winter's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because he didn't trust me."

Silence settled between them for a moment before Winter leaned forward, her fingers interlacing as she spoke.

"This mission…" she began, her voice quieter, more serious. "It will be more dangerous than anything Team RWBY has faced before. More than the train. More than Mountain Glenn."

Weiss, despite already understanding the gravity of their situation, found herself holding her breath.

Winter locked eyes with her.

"This mission to stop Cinder… is a matter of life or death."

Weiss's eyes widened slightly.

She knew what was at stake, but hearing it spoken so plainly sent a chill down her spine. The airship's engines droned in the background, a steady reminder that with every passing moment, they were getting closer to the point of no return.

Taking a slow breath, Weiss straightened her posture and met her sister's gaze with quiet resolve.

"We'll be ready."

Winter studied her for a moment before nodding. "I hope so."

MISTRAL – FOREST OUTPOST

The airship descended slowly, its thrusters kicking up dust and scattered leaves as it settled onto the clearing. The landing zone was an old Atlesian outpost, long abandoned and overgrown with creeping vines and moss-covered structures. The remnants of steel walls and rusted supply crates stood as silent reminders of a past occupation.

As the ramp lowered, Team RWBY, Jaune, Qrow, and Winter stepped onto the uneven ground, boots crunching against gravel and fallen twigs. A cool breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the distant sounds of Mistral's wildlife.

Winter took a deep breath, surveying the surroundings before speaking.

"This outpost was abandoned after Ironwood's attack on Beacon," she explained, gesturing to the weathered buildings. "There should still be some supplies inside. If we need to retreat for any reason, we'll regroup here."

She pulled out her Scroll, tapping a few buttons until a holographic map projected above the screen. A red dot blinked on the display, marking Ironwood's location.

"We're at least a half-hour's walk away from him," Winter continued. "If we move without any delays, we'll reach him in no time."

Ruby, looking at the darkening sky, frowned slightly. "Should we maybe stay the night?"

Yang nodded in agreement, stretching her arms. "Yeah, it took us almost the whole day just to get to Mistral. The sun's about to disappear behind that mountain." She raised an eyebrow at Winter. "Are we seriously planning on waking up Ironwood just to ask for an alliance? People can be really cranky when they wake up."

Standing nearby, Qrow chuckled, taking a swig from his flask. "They've got a point," he said with a smirk. "Ironwood tends to be very mopey if he doesn't get his beauty sleep."

Winter exhaled through her nose, glancing up at the sky. The last remnants of sunlight were quickly fading, painting the clouds in streaks of orange and violet.

She sighed, conceding. "Fine. We'll set up camp here for the night."

Jaune looked toward the buildings. "Any idea if there's working power?"

Winter crossed her arms. "Assuming the generators are still functional, dinner should be acceptable."

Yang raised an eyebrow. "Wait, acceptable?" She smirked. "Don't tell me you know how to cook."

Winter shot her a look. "I could have my own restaurant if I wanted to."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode toward the main building, leaving the group blinking after her.

Jaune leaned toward Weiss, whispering, "Did you know she could cook?"

Weiss shrugged, clearly just as surprised. "Not in the slightest."

The team exchanged glances before following Winter into the outpost, ready to settle in for the night before facing whatever awaited them in the morning.

KITCHEN – OUTPOST

The dim glow of the outpost's emergency lights cast long shadows over the small kitchen area, its once-pristine Atlesian design now showing signs of age. Despite the outdated appliances and a faint layer of dust on the countertops, Winter Schnee moved with precision, her posture straight as she worked over the makeshift stovetop.

A thick-cut steak sizzled in a pan, its surface crisping to a perfect brown as she spooned melted butter over it with steady, practiced motions. The scent of garlic and rosemary filled the space, making it almost feel like a proper home rather than a temporary shelter.

Sitting at the counter nearby, Yang Xiao Long leaned forward with interest, a notepad in hand. She scribbled furiously as Winter added a sprig of thyme to the butter, tilting the pan to baste the steak.

"Alright," Winter instructed, her voice level. "If you want the best flavor, you need to continuously baste the steak. It keeps the moisture locked in and ensures the crust doesn't dry out." She lifted the pan slightly, letting the golden butter pool around the edges before spooning it over the meat again.

Yang nodded, jotting down the tip. "Got it. Butter, baste, don't let it dry out." She tapped her pen against the paper before glancing at Winter. "Not gonna lie—I didn't expect you to be this good at cooking."

Winter arched an eyebrow but remained focused as she flipped the steak. "Cooking is a necessary skill. A proper meal provides stamina, focus, and discipline—qualities that are essential in both battle and leadership."

Yang smirked. "Sounds like something you learned in the military."

Winter gave a small nod. "I did. But it became more than that over time." With a graceful motion, she removed the steak from the pan, placing it on a wooden cutting board to rest. As she grabbed a knife, she turned to Yang. "You already know how to cook, don't you? Why are you writing all of this down?"

Yang leaned back, twirling the pen between her fingers. "I do cook… a little." She grinned. "But I'm mainly a baker."

Winter blinked. "You… bake?"

Yang chuckled at the rare moment of genuine surprise on Winter's face. "What, don't think I can handle an oven?"

Winter crossed her arms, smirking slightly. "I suppose I just never imagined Yang Xiao Long skillfully decorating a cake or kneading dough."

Yang shrugged. "Well, I make a mean batch of cookies."

Winter nodded in approval. "That is… commendable." She turned her attention back to the steak, slicing it into thin, even strips, the juices glistening against the blade.

As she plated the pieces onto a dish, Yang set her notepad aside, her voice shifting to something more serious. "Hey, uh… can I ask you something?"

Winter didn't look up, but she paused, sensing the shift in tone. She grabbed a cast iron pan from the counter and placed the plated steak on top of it, keeping the residual heat from the stovetop on low.

Yang raised a brow. "Nice trick."

Winter finally looked at her. "You were saying?"

Yang tapped her fingers against the counter, debating her words before asking, "What really made you apologize?" Her gaze was steady. "After all these weeks?"

Winter inhaled slowly, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the counter before she exhaled. "After Ironwood's attack… and after a few talks with Weiss and Ozpin… I started to think about everything that happened since I left Atlas. The things I did. The mistakes I made."

She looked down for a moment before continuing. "The anger… the addiction."

Yang's eyes softened slightly. "Ah. Alcohol, huh?"

Winter nodded, running a hand through her white bangs before letting out a humorless chuckle. "Believe it or not… every time I interacted with you or Weiss, I had already had a couple of drinks beforehand."

Yang frowned. "Seriously?"

Winter nodded. "It became my crutch. My way of rationalizing my actions. My way of keeping myself from regretting them."

Yang leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the counter. "And when did that change?"

Winter sighed, picking up a plate and setting it down with practiced ease. "After I saw you at Beacon… after that mission."

Yang stiffened slightly. She knew exactly which moment Winter was referring to.

Winter continued, her voice quieter. "Even then… I struggled. I convinced myself that what I did wasn't wrong. That I was justified. But eventually, I couldn't keep lying to myself."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the low hum of the stovetop and the faint crackling of the remaining heat in the pan.

Winter finally turned to Yang, meeting her gaze. "I know I was a terrible person."

Yang scoffed lightly. "Yeah, no argument there."

Winter gave a slight smirk before shaking her head. "But I am trying to make things right."

Yang considered that before exhaling through her nose. "Then start with Weiss. She won't admit it, but what you said back then? It messed her up."

Winter nodded, already knowing that Yang was right. "I should talk to her."

Yang nodded. "Yeah. You should."

Winter didn't argue, instead turning her attention back to the finished meal. With careful precision, she garnished the plates, ensuring everything was warm and presented properly.

She straightened, looking at her work for a moment before speaking.

"Dinner is ready."

Minutes later...

The large dining table, once reserved for high-ranking military personnel, now hosted a much different group. The dim lighting of the outpost flickered softly above them, casting a warm glow over the meal Winter had prepared. The aroma of perfectly cooked steak and well-seasoned sides filled the air as everyone ate, a rare moment of normalcy among the chaos of their mission.

Jaune, ever the goofball, picked up a small piece of food and turned to Ruby, grinning.

"Alright, Ruby, open up. Here comes the airship!" he teased, moving the piece toward her mouth in a slow, exaggerated flight pattern.

Ruby sighed, giving him an unimpressed look. "Jaune…"

He wiggled the piece in front of her. "It's circling the landing zone! Needs clearance from Captain Rose!"

Ruby rolled her eyes but finally played along, opening her mouth. "Fine, but if this crashes, it's on you."

Jaune gently fed her the bite, chuckling as Ruby chewed with an exaggerated expression of exaggerated frustration. They both laughed softly, sharing a small, silly moment.

On the other side of the table, Winter sat alone in her section, quietly observing them. She watched as Jaune and Ruby smiled at each other, their ease and affection undeniable. There was something in Winter's gaze—something subtle, yet unmistakably melancholic.

Blake, sitting nearby, noticed. She put her fork down and tilted her head slightly.

"Do you have anyone?" she asked casually. "Or… anyone back home that you like?"

Winter blinked, her expression shifting back to neutral. "No. I never had time for romance."

Blake studied her for a moment before nodding. She wasn't particularly surprised, but something about Winter's tone suggested there was more to it.

Winter took a slow sip of water before glancing at Blake. "What about you?" She nodded toward Yang, who sat a few seats away, deep in conversation with Qrow and Weiss—Weiss, notably, looking exasperated by whatever ridiculous story Qrow was telling. "You and Yang, huh?"

Blake hesitated, her fingers absentmindedly brushing the rim of her plate. "It's… a little complicated."

Winter raised an eyebrow. "Complicated?"

Blake exhaled softly. "We're experimenting right now. Seeing if this works. If we work."

Winter's gaze flicked toward Yang again, who laughed as Qrow nudged Weiss with an elbow, much to her annoyance. The ease, the energy Yang carried—it made sense why someone like Blake would be drawn to it.

Blake continued, "It took a while for us to even try, but I think we're making it work."

Winter nodded slightly. "Then I hope it does."

Blake gave a small smile, her fingers lightly tapping against the table. "Me too."

For a moment, the two women sat in quiet understanding.

Winter didn't say anything more, but she silently agreed.

NIGHT – ROOFTOP

The night air was cool, carrying the distant sounds of rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of nocturnal insects. Yang and Blake sat together on the rooftop of the outpost, the old metal beneath them cool against their backs. Above, the stars stretched endlessly across the sky, shimmering in a way that made the world below seem distant, almost unreal.

"The stars are beautiful, aren't they?" Blake murmured, her voice soft.

Yang, though she had been watching Blake more than the sky, finally followed her gaze upward. "Yeah… they sure are."

A breeze drifted through, cool against their skin, and after a few moments, Yang shifted closer until their shoulders brushed. Without a word, they both lay back completely, staring up at the endless expanse above them.

Blake exhaled, lost in thought. "When I was little, my father used to tell me a story about the night sky. About the moon and the stars."

Yang turned her head slightly toward her. "Yeah?"

Blake smiled faintly. "It's a Menagerie story. He used to say that before the world was the way it is now, the moon and the stars weren't just lights in the sky. They were people."

Yang grinned. "Well, now you've got my attention. Tell me."

Blake took a breath, her voice quiet but steady as she began.

"A long time ago, when the world was young, the night sky was different. The moon was whole, unbroken, and the stars shone around it like scattered diamonds. They were countless, tiny flickers of light, but among them, the moon was the brightest. The stars loved the moon, admired it from afar, basked in its glow. But none dared to approach.

None, except for one.

One star, small and young, longed to be close to the moon. It had watched from a distance for what felt like forever, always wishing, always dreaming. The other stars warned it not to go, saying the moon was too far, too great, too different. But the little star didn't listen.

One night, it gathered all its courage and left the sky, drifting closer and closer. And to its surprise, the moon welcomed it. They spoke, they laughed, and in time, they fell in love. For the first time, the moon had someone by its side. And for the first time, the little star shined brighter than ever before.

But happiness doesn't always last.

One night, the star disappeared. No one knows why. Some say it was pulled back to the sky where it belonged. Others say it burned out, its light fading into nothing.

The moon searched for the star, waited for it, called out to it. But the star never returned.

Heartbroken, the moon began to change. It cracked, slowly at first, then more and more, pieces of it breaking away into the night. That's why, even now, the moon is broken. Because long ago, it loved a star that never came back."

Blake fell silent, her eyes still on the sky. Yang let out a slow breath, staring upward.

"That's… really romantic," she murmured.

Blake gave a small nod.

"…And really sad."

Blake sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I used to cry over that story when I was a kid."

Yang turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. "Why?"

Blake stared ahead. "Because I thought… one day, that would happen to me."

Yang frowned slightly. "You mean… being worshipped?"

Blake turned her gaze toward Yang, something unspoken in her expression. "No. Having my heart broken."

Yang didn't respond at first. She just watched her, seeing the quiet vulnerability in her eyes, the fear of something unspoken. Without thinking, she reached over and wrapped an arm around Blake's shoulders, pulling her close.

"You won't," Yang said softly. "I won't let you."

Blake inhaled, something shifting inside her. She glanced down and hesitated only for a moment before reaching for Yang's metal hand, ignoring the coldness of the steel as she squeezed it gently.

Yang blinked in surprise but didn't pull away.

Blake smiled slightly, still holding onto her. "Something's happening inside me."

Yang swallowed, her face turning red. "Uh… do you mean… like… down there?"

Blake chuckled softly. "No, Yang."

She lifted her free hand and lightly tapped her chest, just over her heart.

"In here."

Yang let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Oh… really?"

Blake leaned closer, resting her forehead against Yang's.

"Really."

Yang swallowed, feeling warmer than she should have in the cool night air. Slowly, she leaned in.

Blake didn't move away.

Just before their lips touched, Yang hesitated. "If you want to stop, then—"

Blake closed the distance, cutting her off.

The kiss was soft, warm, and real. Yang stiffened for only a second before she melted into it, heart pounding in her chest. The moment lasted only a few seconds, but when they pulled apart, Yang looked breathless.

Blake smirked at Yang's stunned expression before playfully pushing her back. Yang let out a small yelp as she fell onto the rooftop, and Blake lay down beside her.

For a moment, they just stared at each other under the stars. Blake reached out, lacing her fingers with Yang's.

"Consider the experiment a success," Blake whispered.

Yang let out a small, breathless chuckle before pulling Blake closer, wrapping her arms around her.

Blake didn't resist.

They held each other in the quiet of the night, the broken moon watching over them as they drifted into a peaceful silence.

THE NEXT MORNING – FOREST

The crisp morning air carried the scent of damp earth and pine as the group navigated through the thick forest. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting shifting patches of gold onto the trail. Birds sang from high above, unaware of the tension that weighed on the travelers below.

Ruby walked near the middle of the group, her gaze drifting toward Yang and Blake, who were lost in their own little world—laughing, nudging each other, exchanging small, teasing remarks. It was subtle, but Ruby noticed the way they lingered close, their movements more natural, more comfortable than before.

Weiss, walking beside Ruby, smirked. "I think they're official."

Ruby turned to her with a knowing grin. "Finally. I've been waiting for weeks."

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "They only started trying a couple of days ago."

Ruby shrugged. "I know. But it felt like forever. Yang's liked Blake since they met, even if she never outright said it. And when Blake picked Sun, Yang just… swallowed her feelings. She never let it show, but I know it hurt her. And now?" She gestured toward them, watching the way Yang smiled at Blake like there was no one else in the world. "Now they're here, like it was always meant to be."

Weiss folded her arms, smirking. "Like you and Jaune?"

Jaune, who had been quietly listening, glanced at Ruby and chuckled. "Maybe."

Ruby's cheeks warmed slightly, but she didn't argue.

Before anyone could respond, Winter abruptly stopped in her tracks.

The holographic map on her Scroll flickered, her sharp blue eyes darting between the trees. She raised a hand, signaling the group to halt.

They obeyed instantly, their senses sharpening.

Winter's gaze locked onto something—movement in the canopy above. The leaves barely rustled, but it wasn't the wind. It was too controlled, too deliberate.

In a flash, Winter's sword was out. She slashed through the air, and something metallic fell to the ground, severed in two. Sparks crackled as the small, disc-like device sputtered out of commission.

Then, the forest exploded into chaos.

A figure leaped from the trees. Yang reacted on instinct, stepping in front of Blake and firing a concussive blast from Ember Celica. The force sent the attacker crashing into the dirt.

More small devices launched from the shadows. From the bushes, from the high branches—a coordinated ambush.

Winter moved without hesitation, summoning a field of Glyphs, their glowing symbols expanding into a protective shield just as the projectiles struck. Explosions of dust and light rippled across the barrier, but it held firm.

Through the smoke and shifting shadows, figures emerged.

Camouflaged soldiers, armored and armed, revealing themselves from hidden vantage points. They had been waiting. Watching.

Then, a deep, authoritative voice rang out.

"Hold your fire!"

Everything stopped.

Silence settled over the forest once more, broken only by the fading echoes of the attack.

Winter kept her Glyphs raised, her sword still drawn. Her eyes darted between the approaching figures, her stance unwavering.

Then, she saw him.

A man pushed through the ranks, tall and broad-shouldered, his once-pristine military posture now worn with age and battle. His long, graying hair was unkempt, his beard thick, but it was his right arm and right leg that drew the most attention—entirely cybernetic, gleaming under the morning light.

Winter stared, her grip on her sword tightening.

James Ironwood.

Ruby's voice was barely above a whisper. "Whoa."

Ironwood's sharp blue eyes scanned the group, but he focused on Winter. Then, in a calm, measured voice, he turned to his soldiers.

"Stand down. They're friendly."

The soldiers hesitated for only a second before obeying, lowering their weapons.

Yang glanced at one of the fallen soldiers being helped to his feet. "Oops," she muttered under her breath.

Ironwood took a slow step forward, his hands relaxed at his sides. His gaze never left Winter.

She didn't lower her sword.

"I'm not here to fight you," Ironwood said evenly.

Winter said nothing.

Then, slowly, he reached for his pistols.

Winter reacted instantly, shifting her stance, her blade poised to strike—

—but all Ironwood did was drop them to the ground. Deliberate. Controlled.

Winter's expression remained unreadable, but something in her shoulders eased.

After a moment, she lowered her Glyphs.

But her voice was still sharp. "Keep your weapons ready," she ordered the group before stepping forward.

Ironwood didn't move.

Finally, his voice broke the silence. "Why are you here?"

Winter didn't hesitate.

"We're taking Cinder Fall down," she said. "But we need your help."

Ironwood's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes flickered—surprise, uncertainty.

He studied her for a long moment before finally bending down, retrieving his pistols.

Winter stiffened.

But he didn't aim them. Didn't threaten.

Instead, he holstered them and looked toward his men.

"Head home," he ordered.

The soldiers exchanged glances, but none of them questioned it. One by one, they moved toward the trees, disappearing into the forest.

Winter watched them go, then turned back to Ironwood.

"We're going," she told the group. "But stay alert. Just in case."

With that, they followed James Ironwood into the unknown.

VILLAGE

The trail opened up to a hidden valley, revealing a village nestled between the trees. The houses were sturdy, built from a mix of stone and wood, with reinforced roofs and barricaded fences, yet they didn't feel like fortifications—more like careful reinforcements against nature rather than war. The streets, though rugged, were well-tended, with worn dirt paths lined with lanterns, flickering faintly under the daylight.

What surprised the group most was how alive it was.

People moved freely, tending to gardens, repairing homes, and chatting near a central marketplace where a handful of makeshift stalls displayed freshly grown crops, handmade tools, and preserved food supplies. Children ran between the buildings, playing with wooden toys carved from trees in the surrounding forest. A few villagers carried hunting gear, likely returning from a trip beyond the valley's borders.

It was functional, even thriving—a settlement built on survival, but not misery.

Even Winter, who had prepared herself for something bleak, looked mildly impressed.

Ironwood walked ahead, his metallic footsteps heavy against the dirt, leading his soldiers through the main road as the group followed behind.

"We struggled for the first month," Ironwood said, his voice steady, but reflective. "Rationing supplies, keeping morale up. It wasn't easy. Not everyone wanted to be here. A few couldn't handle it and left."

His expression darkened slightly. "I hope they were never caught."

As they continued walking, Ruby noticed the stares.

Villagers paused in their tasks, eyes following them with curious, cautious expressions. Some whispered to each other, their gazes lingering particularly on Winter and Yang.

Weiss shifted uncomfortably. "They're staring."

Ironwood nodded. "That's to be expected. This village has been isolated from the rest of the world since… well."

Weiss finished for him. "Since Beacon."

Ironwood exhaled, nodding. "Yes."

He glanced toward a group of older villagers watching them from a distance. "We get the occasional trader passing through, but it's rare. Most of the world either forgot about us or assumed we were already dead."

Yang muttered under her breath, "Can't imagine why."

They reached the largest structure in the village—a sturdy two-story building, its exterior worn but reinforced, a flag bearing the remnants of Atlas' old military emblem fluttering weakly above the doorway.

Ironwood stepped inside first, motioning for the group to follow.

The interior was simple but well-kept—a meeting hall of sorts, with a large wooden table at its center, surrounded by benches and old chairs. A few maps were pinned against the walls, alongside hand-drawn sketches of local wildlife, hunting routes, and supply inventories. A small fireplace crackled in the corner, providing warmth against the cool forest air that seeped in through the stone walls.

Ironwood poured himself a cup of water from a metal pitcher, sitting down at the head of the table.

Ruby glanced around. "Was this place built or abandoned before you got here?"

Ironwood took a sip before answering. "Abandoned. The original occupants moved to Mistral over a decade ago. We found it in ruins and rebuilt what we could." He set the cup down, meeting Ruby's gaze. "It wasn't easy, but we made it ours."

Winter leaned toward Yang, lowering her voice. "Stay ready. Just in case."

Yang gave a subtle nod, but her posture remained casual.

Winter stepped forward, approaching Ironwood as he refilled his cup. "You seem… different."

Ironwood raised an eyebrow. "Different?"

Winter studied him for a moment before clarifying. "More calm. More… free."

Ironwood chuckled, though there was little humor in it. "Exile changes a man, Winter." He leaned back slightly, his cybernetic arm resting against the table. "I spent my whole life obsessed with protecting Atlas from the evils outside. I was willing to do anything to make that happen."

His expression darkened, the weight of his past pressing against his words.

"And I did."

Ironwood's fingers tightened around his cup as he let out a slow breath. His eyes darkened, lost in memories. "After the Vytal Festival… after everything fell apart, my obsession only grew. I knew Cinder Fall wasn't finished. She was determined to awaken Salem, and she would try again. And again. Until she succeeded."

He exhaled sharply. "She needed something. Something critical. And I knew she would never stop searching for it."

Ruby's voice cut through the silence. "Amber. The Fall Maiden."

Ironwood's eyes snapped toward her, his expression shifting from grim certainty to mild shock. "How do you know that?"

Weiss stepped forward. "Ozpin told us everything. The Maidens. Salem. Amber. All of it."

Ironwood processed this, his gaze flickering between them before he slowly leaned back in his chair.

Winter took the opportunity to deliver the final blow. "Amber is dead."

Ironwood's breath hitched.

"Cinder killed her," Winter continued. "She took the remaining portion of the Fall Maiden's power. She is one now."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Ironwood's hand, flesh and metal alike, trembled slightly as he closed his eyes, absorbing the weight of Winter's words. A nearby soldier, a woman with streaks of gray in her hair and a scar running across her jaw, placed a hand on his shoulder in silent support.

Winter pressed on. "That's why we're here. We need your knowledge—everything you know about Cinder Fall. If we're going to stop her, we need more than just our will. We need information. Without it, stopping her would be nearly impossible."

Ironwood didn't look at her. His eyes remained fixed on the table, the reflection of the fire dancing in his gaze.

Then he spoke, voice low and distant. "And why would I help you?"

Winter took a slow step forward, watching him carefully. "Because it might provide you with something you've long thought impossible."

Ironwood finally turned his head toward her, his expression unreadable.

"Redemption," Winter said simply.

Ironwood scoffed, a hollow, bitter sound. "Redemption?" His cybernetic fingers curled into a fist. "You think I deserve that?"

Winter remained steady. "Not all of it. Maybe not even half of it. But enough."

She gestured vaguely toward the outside world beyond the walls. "The Atlesian Council exiled you and your men, but they're not heartless. If you helped us bring Cinder down, I could make a case to them—perhaps secure aid for your people. Supplies, resources. A chance at something better than this."

Ironwood shook his head. "Even if I agreed, I doubt the Council would listen. And even if they did…" He exhaled sharply. "I don't think it would matter."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "I attacked Beacon with aggression. I became the very thing I once swore to fight against. And because of me…" His voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with self-loathing. "Two students died."

His jaw tightened. "Their families despise Atlas because of me. And they have every right to."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "And what was it all for? A prosthetic?" He turned his gaze toward Winter, his eyes cold and tired. "A former Atlesian Specialist who was right to leave?"

Silence.

Ironwood let out a bitter chuckle. "I have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life."

A sharp crack split the air.

The table fractured beneath Yang's hands, small spiderweb-like lines crawling outward from where her fingers pressed into the wood.

Blake had noticed it first—Yang's trembling hand, the way her fingers had clenched into a tight fist, her shoulders stiff with restrained fury. She had gently reached for Yang, fingers brushing against hers in an attempt to calm her down.

But Yang had stepped forward instead.

Now, all eyes were on her.

Ironwood studied her in silence, his expression unreadable.

Yang exhaled through her nose, forcing herself to steady her breathing. Then, slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his.

"I've got a proposal," she said, her voice low and angry.

Minutes later...

The village square had fallen into silence. A circle had formed around Yang and Ironwood, a makeshift arena of dust and tension. Ironwood's exiles and Team RWBY stood side by side, watching with different emotions—worry, skepticism, anticipation. The air was heavy, thick with something unspoken, as Yang and Ironwood stood ten feet apart, facing each other like two warriors from a different time.

Yang turned to Ruby and handed her Ember Celica. Ruby took them hesitantly, her grip tight, as though she could keep her sister safe just by holding them. Across from her, Ironwood removed his pistols, handing them to one of his soldiers without hesitation.

"No guns," Yang said. "Only our fists."

Ironwood nodded, his face unreadable.

"If you win," Yang continued, stretching her shoulders, "we'll leave. We won't tell anyone where you are. We'll deal with Cinder ourselves." She cracked her knuckles, rolling out the tension in her hands. "But if I win… you help us take her down. No running. No hiding. You fight with us."

Ironwood took a deep breath. "Rules are final?"

"No exceptions."

The crowd stood still.

Ruby swallowed hard, stepping forward. "Yang, why are you doing this?"

Yang glanced at her, something firm and unshakable in her expression. "Because I need to."

There was no more discussion.

Ironwood moved first.

The speed of it sent a shiver through Ruby's body. He closed the distance in an instant, his cybernetic arm swinging in a brutal left hook toward Yang's ribs.

Yang twisted, barely dodging, but Ironwood adjusted in the blink of an eye. His metal fist slammed into her forearm as she blocked, the force rattling through her bones. Before she could brace herself, his knee drove into her stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs. The impact made her stumble, just enough for Ironwood to strike again—an uppercut that connected cleanly with her jaw.

Yang's head snapped back.

She skidded backward across the dirt, the dry earth kicking up around her boots.

Ruby moved forward instinctively. "Yang—"

Winter's arm shot out in front of her, stopping her. "No," she said. "She needs to do this."

Yang spit blood onto the ground, rolling her shoulders. She wiped her chin, grinning through the pain. Ironwood was already closing in again, fists raised, movements precise. Yang surged forward to meet him.

The clash was like thunder rolling through the village.

Yang swung a right cross at his jaw, but Ironwood blocked it, absorbing the hit with his metal arm. He struck back with a counter jab, his knuckles smashing into her cheek. Yang spun with the hit, using the momentum to duck under his next punch, and slammed her fist into his ribs with enough force to crack bone.

Ironwood grunted, but he didn't slow down.

He moved with ruthless efficiency, slamming his elbow down toward Yang's shoulder. She barely sidestepped, the strike grazing her as she twisted. Before she could react, he caught her wrist and yanked her forward, driving his knee into her stomach again, then delivering a crushing palm strike to her chest.

The air left Yang's lungs as she staggered back, but Ironwood didn't let go. He spun her momentum into a throw, flipping her over his shoulder.

Yang crashed into the ground, the impact shaking the dust beneath her.

Blake flinched at the sight, a quiet gasp escaping her lips. Her hands curled into fists, but before she could step forward, Winter's voice came again, quiet but firm.

"Don't."

Blake turned to her, disbelief in her golden eyes. "She's getting beaten—"

"She needs to finish this," Winter interrupted, her gaze locked on the fight. "She knew the risks. She still took them."

Blake hesitated, but after a moment, she stayed still.

Yang coughed, rolling onto her hands and knees. Ironwood was already moving, his metal fist descending toward her like a hammer.

Yang rolled aside just in time, the impact of Ironwood's fist hitting the dirt sending cracks into the ground. She pushed off the earth and lunged at him.

Ironwood raised his arms in defense as Yang unleashed a flurry of punches, each strike backed by raw power. Left. Right. Right. Hook. Each blow slammed against his guard, but he held firm.

Then he shifted.

Yang swung another right cross, but Ironwood sidestepped, catching her wrist mid-motion. With a twist and a brutal yank, he threw her off balance and smashed his fist into her gut. She barely had time to register the pain before another palm strike cracked against her ribs.

Yang hit the ground again, gasping.

For a moment, it looked like the fight was over.

Then she moved.

Ironwood barely had time to react before Yang was up again, faster than before. Her golden eyes flickered with something dangerous, something strong.

She closed the gap between them in an instant.

Her fist crashed into his ribs with enough force to force him back. Then another. And another. Each punch came faster, harder. Ironwood blocked the first few, but then her speed increased—slipping past his defenses, breaking his stance.

She feinted left, forcing him to brace, then drove her knee into his stomach with bone-crushing force. He gasped, doubling over. Yang grabbed him by the collar and delivered an uppercut that sent him off his feet.

Ironwood crashed into the dirt, rolling onto his hands and knees, panting.

He started to rise.

Yang was already moving.

She leaped, twisting mid-air, her heel descending like a meteor toward Ironwood's head. He barely managed to raise his metal arm in time. The impact cracked through the air, a shockwave rippling through the ground, sending dust flying.

Ironwood skidded backward, boots digging into the earth.

He wiped the blood from his mouth, breathing heavily.

Then, for the first time, he hesitated.

Yang stepped forward, raising her fists again.

Ironwood exhaled.

And charged one last time.

Yang launched forward, her fists moving with precise intent. She had watched Ironwood fight, studied his movements, and now she was exploiting his weaknesses. Her punches slammed into his ribs, his shoulders, the softer parts of his body not reinforced by metal. Each strike was fueled by more than just strategy—there was something deeper, something raw.

Ironwood staggered back under the relentless assault, his defenses crumbling as Yang's strength overwhelmed him. Then, her voice cut through the air, shaking with anger.

"You think you're the only one who's suffered?" she screamed, her fist slamming into his stomach. "You think your guilt is bad enough to make up for what you did?"

Ironwood gritted his teeth, trying to counter, but Yang dodged, her body moving like fire itself—fluid, untouchable. She twisted around him and drove her knee into his side, forcing his Aura to flicker violently.

"You attacked Beacon!" she continued, her voice rising with every hit. "You ordered your soldiers to attack students! Kids! And now two of them are dead—because of you!"

With a roar, she kicked him square in the chest, sending Ironwood flying backward. He crashed onto the ground, dust rising around him as he struggled to catch his breath.

Yang's golden eyes burned as she stalked forward. Her fists clenched so tightly they shook.

"I was there when they died," she spat, her voice cracking with fury. "I watched the life leave their bodies!"

Ironwood pushed himself up just as Yang closed the distance again. He swung at her, but she anticipated it, flipping over him in a blur. The moment she landed, her leg lashed out in a brutal kick, striking him in the back and slamming him into the ground.

The impact was thunderous.

Ironwood groaned, rolling onto his side, but Yang wasn't finished.

She stood over him, breathing heavily, fists still trembling.

"I've lived with that guilt every single day," she growled. "Every damn night, I see their faces. The nightmares don't stop. And you—" she kicked him again, sending him skidding across the dirt, "—you caused all of it!"

Ironwood coughed, his Aura shattering completely. He groaned, trying to lift himself up, but his body wouldn't obey. He blinked through the pain, his vision swimming as he looked up at Yang.

She was moving toward him, one last attack ready—

"Enough!"

Winter's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Yang froze, her breath ragged, her hands clenched. Slowly, she turned toward Winter.

"The challenge has been won," Winter declared, her voice firm, unwavering. "Ironwood's Aura is gone. Yang Xiao Long is victorious."

Yang clenched her jaw, looking down at Ironwood. He was still kneeling, his arms braced against the dirt, struggling to regain control of his breathing.

She crouched down, just enough to meet his exhausted gaze.

"I don't care how guilty you feel," she said, voice raw but steady. "You still have a chance to do the right thing."

Ironwood didn't respond, just kept staring at the ground.

Yang exhaled, steadying herself. "If we can't take Cinder down, then everyone is in danger. You, your people, all of us. I know you don't want to fight again, but we need you. If we fail, this world won't get another chance."

Ironwood swallowed hard. His shoulders rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths.

Yang softened, but only slightly. "I did everything I could to move on. I even tried contacting the families of those students you got killed. No response. No closure." She looked down, just for a moment. "I don't plan on giving up anymore. Never. I promise you—we will stop Cinder."

Ironwood lifted his head, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and something more. Something broken.

Then, his voice came out rough, filled with years of regret and a newfound sense of purpose.

"You swear on your family's life… on my people's… that you'll stop her?"

Yang met his gaze without hesitation. "I swear."

Ironwood stared at her, searching for any doubt, any weakness in her conviction. He found none.

After a long silence, he nodded. "Then let's take her down."

Yang extended her hand to him.

For a moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, he reached out and grasped it.

Yang pulled him to his feet, holding his gaze. "Thank you," she said. Then, after a pause, she added, "And… thanks for the fight."

Ironwood exhaled sharply, nodding. "You're welcome."

Winter stepped forward, watching as Ironwood stretched his sore limbs, his expression already shifting back to something more composed.

"Do we have a plan?" he asked.

Yang turned back to her team, locking eyes with Ruby.

"We will."

Over the next few hours, the village transformed into something new. Ironwood's soldiers—once scattered, exiled, and resigned to their fate—retrieved their old gear from hidden caches, dusting off weapons that hadn't seen battle in years. Armor was polished, ammunition was counted, and the air buzzed with a renewed sense of purpose.

The low hum of engines filled the valley as multiple airships descended, their sleek forms casting shadows over the village. Ruby stood near the edge of the landing zone, arms crossed, watching as supplies were loaded onto the ships.

Winter stood beside her, arms also folded, eyes scanning the growing fleet with a calculating gaze.

Ruby tilted her head. "So… how many favors do people owe you?"

Winter smirked slightly. "Too many."

Ruby huffed a laugh. "I bet."

A sound of boots against wooden steps made them turn their heads.

Ironwood stepped out of his building, fully dressed in his old military attire, though the badges and insignia were missing. He looked different—his beard trimmed neatly, his face carrying a weight that was no longer just guilt, but focus.

Winter's gaze flickered over him before she raised an eyebrow. "You shaved."

Ironwood ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the shorter stubble. "I feel better with a little less of it."

Winter gave him a nod. "It suits you." Then, after a moment, she softened just a bit. "Thank you… for this."

Ironwood shrugged, his voice dry but honest. "It's about time I did something good for a change."

Nearby, Ruby caught sight of Yang sitting on the ground, head wrapped in bandages, resting against Blake's lap. Blake was gently running her fingers through Yang's hair, looking more frustrated than concerned—but the concern was still there, lurking in the way she held onto Yang.

"This was stupid," Blake muttered, eyes narrowed. "That fight was stupid."

Yang smirked, wincing slightly as she adjusted her position. "Yeah, but it worked."

Blake sighed heavily, her grip tightening on Yang's hand. "Just promise me you won't do something like that again."

Yang lifted a lazy hand, patting Blake's arm. "Never again…" Then, after a beat, she grinned. "At least when you're around."

Blake groaned, leaning her forehead against Yang's shoulder. "I hate you."

Yang chuckled. "Nah, you love me."

Ruby approached them, hands on her hips. "You good?"

Yang carefully sat up, stretching. "Yeah, yeah. My Aura's already patching me up."

Ruby followed her gaze and spotted Jaune struggling to lift a heavy crate, his arms trembling from the weight. A nearby soldier watched in amusement before effortlessly taking the crate from him. Jaune promptly collapsed onto the ground, groaning.

Weiss, standing nearby with her arms crossed, shook her head, clearly unimpressed.

Ruby smirked, turning back to Yang. "This is really happening, huh?"

Yang exhaled, rolling out her shoulder. "Yeah… It is." She pushed herself up, offering Blake a hand to stand as well. "With Ironwood's help, we'll finally take Cinder down for good."

Ruby nodded slowly. "I hope so."

Qrow strolled over, his usual slouch in place. "Alright, kids. Almost time." He reached for his flask, only to frown when he found it empty. With a heavy sigh, he tucked it away.

Ruby arched an eyebrow. "Maybe it's a sign to quit."

Qrow snorted. "Never in a million years."

Shaking her head, Ruby walked toward Jaune, who was still recovering from his struggle with the crate.

Before he could protest, she bent down, lifted him effortlessly into a bridal carry, and strode toward the airship.

Jaune's face turned beet red as his arms flailed slightly. "R-Ruby! I can walk—"

"Nope," Ruby said simply, ignoring his embarrassment.

Weiss burst into laughter, following them up the ramp, her amusement only growing when Jaune hid his face behind his hands.

Yang and Blake watched the scene unfold, smirking.

Yang turned to Blake, offering her a hand. "C'mon. Let's get on board."

Blake took it without hesitation, the two walking side by side toward the same airship.

Qrow watched them go, shaking his head with a small chuckle. With a stretch, he rolled his shoulders and followed suit.

Minutes later, the airships lifted off, their engines roaring as they ascended, cutting through the sky in one unified direction.

The mission had begun.

VALE

Vale bustled with life, its streets filled with the sounds of everyday normalcy—vendors calling out their wares, pedestrians chatting as they strolled through the marketplace, children laughing as they ran through the plazas. The city, rebuilt from its past devastation, had regained a sense of peace, a fragile illusion of safety that its people clung to.

Outside the city walls, however, that peace was about to be shattered.

Above the outskirts, Cinder hovered in midair, her body radiating heat like a furnace barely contained. Her eyes burned, twin orbs of molten fury, her rage twisting the very air around her.

She had failed.

She had power, she had strength, and yet, time and time again, the world refused to bow to her. The thought alone made her shake with fury, her hands clenching so tightly that fire burst from her fingertips, scorching the earth below.

Her breathing was ragged, uneven. Then, finally—she let out a scream.

It wasn't just a cry of anger; it was pure, seething hatred, a wail of frustration so intense that the air itself vibrated, the very shadows of the world stirring to life in response.

And they answered her.

The ground rumbled. The trees swayed violently despite the still air.

Then—they came.

From the depths of the wilderness, the Grimm emerged in a black tide, a monstrous horde drawn to the overwhelming negativity pouring off of her in waves. Beowolves, Ursai, Griffons, Beringels, even a hulking Goliath, its massive form pushing through the trees like they were twigs.

Cinder's chest heaved, her fury not diminishing but sharpening.

Vale.

She would burn it all down.

With a sharp movement, she turned, wings of flame igniting from her back as she soared forward.

The Grimm followed, a flood of darkness surging toward the unsuspecting city.

Vale has no idea what was coming.