Chapter 33: Reflections in Light
The evening sun cast long shadows across the Crucible staging area as Weiss, Blake, and Yang gathered their gear after another intense training session. Their performance had drawn attention - particularly from Sterben-17's veteran fireteam, who approached with evident interest.
"Well fought," the Exo Hunter called out, his metallic features arranged in what passed for a grin. "You've come a long way since those first matches." Beside him, Seron-12's deep blue robes caught the fading light while Verea's Titan armor gleamed with well-maintained pride.
"Thanks to Pyrrha and Penny's training sessions," Yang replied, securing Escape Velocity across her back. "Those aerial combat drills really paid off."
"I noticed," Seron-12 commented, his mechanical voice carrying dry amusement. "Especially when you managed that mid-air Solar burst to counter Verea's Thundercrash. Most new Lights don't master that kind of timing for months."
Blake's ears twitched as she sheathed Nightfang. "We've had good teachers. And plenty of motivation to learn quickly."
"So we've heard," Sterben-17 replied, his tone growing more serious. "Word is you're preparing for something big. The Dreadnaught?"
Weiss finished adjusting Randy's Throwing Knife's scope before answering. "That's the plan. Once we're ready."
"After what we saw in the EDZ," Yang added, her usual bravado tempered by recent experience, "we need all the preparation we can get."
Verea stepped forward, her Awoken eyes studying them intently. "Taken activity is increasing across the system. If you're really planning to hit the Dreadnaught..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "You'll need more than just combat skills."
The veteran fireteam shared a knowing look before Sterben-17 spoke again. "Meet us at the ramen shop in an hour. There are some things you should know about facing Taken on their own territory."
Steam rose from bowls of ramen as the six Guardians settled into their seats at a quiet corner table. The shop's lanterns cast warm light over their gathering, a stark contrast to the day's combat drills.
"I was on the first strike team that breached the Dreadnaught," Sterben-17 began, his mechanical fingers tapping an idle rhythm on the table. "Back when Oryx first entered the system. Lost my whole fireteam in the first ten minutes."
"The Taken weren't like anything we'd faced before," Seron-12 added. "All our combat doctrine, all our tactics... they meant nothing in there."
Verea nodded grimly. "The Dreadnaught doesn't just house Taken - it changes them. Empowers them. The deeper you go, the stronger their connection to the Darkness becomes."
Blake's ears flattened slightly. "We've encountered them in the EDZ. They were... disturbing."
"That's just a taste," Sterben-17 warned. "Out here, they're diluted, weakened by distance from their source. But in there?" His mechanical features shifted into a grimace. "They'll show you things. Make you see yourself, but wrong. Twisted."
"What do you mean?" Yang asked, her usual bravado subdued.
Seron-12's optics dimmed slightly as he spoke. "The Taken don't just attack your body - they attack your mind. Show you versions of yourself that gave in to darkness. Every fear, every doubt, every moment of weakness... they'll use it all against you."
"It's like looking into a mirror that shows everything you could become if you lost your way," Verea added, her luminescent eyes distant with memory. "Every Guardian who enters the Dreadnaught faces their own reflection, twisted by Darkness."
Weiss set down her chopsticks, her scholar's mind working through the implications. "But we've died before - in the Crucible, in combat. How is this different?"
"Death is simple," Sterben-17 replied. "Clean. Final, even when we resurrect. But what the Taken do?" He shook his head. "They make you question everything you are. Every choice that led you here."
"Then why tell us this?" Blake asked quietly. "If it's so dangerous..."
"Because you need to be ready," Verea said firmly. "Not just with weapons and Light, but here." She tapped her temple. "You need to know who you are, absolutely. Any doubt, any hesitation..."
"They'll use it," Yang finished, understanding dawning in her eyes.
"Got to move," Sterben-17 said, rising abruptly as his Ghost materialized with urgent data. "Vex signatures on Mercury, and a distress call we can't ignore." His mechanical features shifted into what might have been concern. "Just remember what we said. On the Dreadnaught, your greatest enemy won't be what you're fighting—it'll be what you're afraid of becoming."
After the veteran fireteam departed, Blake, Yang, and Weiss found themselves on one of the Tower's quieter balconies, the City lights beginning to twinkle below as evening settled in. The weight of Sterben-17's warnings hung heavy in the air between them.
"Twisted reflections," Yang muttered, her fingers absently tracing the lines of Escape Velocity's frame. "Showing us what we could become if we lost our way." She looked up at her teammates. "Like what Adam was, before. What any of us could be."
Blake's ears twitched at the mention of Adam's name. "We've all walked close to darkness before," she said quietly. "On Remnant, we each had our moments where we could have chosen a different path."
"But we didn't," Weiss pointed out, Randy's Throwing Knife gleaming in the fading light. "Even when it would have been easier. Even when the darkness seemed like the only answer." She paused, considering. "Maybe that's why we remember our past lives. Not just who we were, but the choices we made that defined us."
Yang stood, Solar Light flickering unconsciously between her fingers. "It's different now though, isn't it? We're not just huntresses anymore. We have this power, this Light..." She clenched her fist, extinguishing the flames. "And that means the darkness we could fall to is different too."
"I've been studying the histories," Weiss said, her voice taking on the careful tone they recognized from her research. "There have been Guardians who fell. Who turned their Light to darkness. Like Dredgen Yor, or the Shadows of Yor who followed his path."
"And now we're about to walk into a place that will try to show us exactly how that could happen to us," Blake added grimly. She drew Nightfang, studying how the void energy played along its edge. "Using our own fears against us."
"Then we do what we've always done," Yang said firmly. "We face it together. Watch each other's backs. Keep each other in the Light."
Weiss smiled faintly. "Like Pyrrha and Penny during training. Did you notice how they never let each other face multiple opponents alone? Always maintaining that connection, that trust?"
"It's not just about combat," Blake realized, sheathing her blade. "All those drills, all those deaths in the Crucible—they weren't just teaching us to fight together. They were teaching us to trust each other's Light."
"To recognize each other," Yang added, understanding dawning in her eyes. "So that when we face those twisted reflections..."
"We'll know what's real," Weiss finished. "Who's real."
The three of them stood in comfortable silence for a moment, feeling the weight of their bond—forged in two lives now, strengthened by Light and countless shared deaths in training. Below, the Last City's lights pushed back the gathering darkness, just as they would need to do on the Dreadnaught.
"You know what this means though," Yang said finally, a familiar grin spreading across her face. "More training."
Blake's ears perked up with interest. "What did you have in mind?"
"If we're going to face darker versions of ourselves," Yang's grin widened, "we should probably practice fighting each other. Really learn each other's moves, so we'll know when something's wrong."
"Back to the Crucible then," Weiss nodded, but she was smiling too. "Though this time, maybe we focus less on winning..."
"And more on understanding," Blake finished. "Learning each other's Light so well that any corruption would be obvious."
"Should we ask Pyrrha and Penny to help?" Yang asked, already checking her gear.
"Later," Weiss decided. "For now, let's see what we can learn about each other."
The three of them headed for the Crucible staging area, their steps lighter despite the heavy revelations of the day. They had faced darkness before, had overcome it together. Now they would prepare to face it again, not just as warriors, but as Guardians bound by Light and trust.
The last rays of sunlight were fading from the Tower as Blake, Yang, and Weiss finished their final Crucible match, sweat-soaked and exhilarated from hours of training.
"Has anyone seen Ruby or Oscar?" Yang asked, scanning the observation deck where the two usually watched their matches. "They said they'd be here."
"Maybe they got held up with Vanguard business," Weiss suggested, though her tone carried a hint of concern. It wasn't like Ruby to miss their training sessions.
They began making their way through the Tower's bustling evening crowds, asking passing Guardians if they'd seen the legendary pair. Most just shook their heads, though a few younger Guardians practically vibrated with excitement at being asked about Lady Rose's whereabouts.
"Nothing at the usual spots," Blake reported after checking the ramen shop and the courtyard overlook. Her ears twitched with mild frustration.
They were about to give up when an Awoken Hunter lounging against a pillar caught their attention. His iridescent skin seemed to shimmer in the twilight as he pushed off from his perch.
"Looking for Rose and Pine?" he asked, a knowing smile playing across his ethereal features. "Saw them heading into The Last Arrow about an hour ago."
"The Last Arrow?" Weiss asked, raising an eyebrow.
The Hunter's smile widened. "Old Hunter tavern, down in the Hidden District. Been around since before the City had walls. These days it's where veterans go when they want to avoid..." he gestured vaguely at the bustling Tower around them, "all this."
"And you're sure you saw them?" Blake pressed.
"Hard to miss Lady Rose's signature cloak," he replied. "Especially when she's trying not to be noticed. Head down through the old maintenance shaft behind Banshee's shop, follow the red lanterns. Can't miss it." He paused, then added with a wink, "Tell Sina at the door that Vel sent you."
The trio exchanged glances. They'd heard rumors of the Hidden District—the network of pre-City structures beneath the Tower where older Guardians gathered away from prying eyes. But they'd never had reason to venture there themselves.
"Well," Yang grinned, already heading toward Banshee's shop, "this should be interesting."
"Try not to break anything," Blake called after her. "I hear some of those places are older than the Vanguard itself."
"No promises!" Yang's voice echoed back, filled with the same enthusiasm she always had for discovering new places.
Weiss sighed, but there was fondness in it as they followed their teammate. "At least this time we're not actively getting shot at while exploring."
The Awoken Hunter's directions proved accurate. Behind Banshee's shop, partially hidden by old shipping crates, they found a maintenance shaft leading down into the Tower's depths. A string of dim red lanterns marked their path through the ancient corridors, each light casting long shadows that seemed to dance with stories of centuries past.
The Last Arrow was not what they expected. Instead of the dimly lit hideaway they'd imagined, they found a warm, well-worn space alive with energy. Ancient wooden beams crossed the ceiling, marked with centuries of Hunter knife-throws and glowing with strands of soft Light. The walls were covered in faded banners and weathered weapons—trophies from countless missions and battles.
But what caught their attention was the singing.
A crowd of veteran Guardians filled the center of the tavern, their voices raised in a song that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. The melody was haunting yet joyful, words in an old Earth language none of them recognized:
"À Bordeaux ils sont arrivés
Pique la baleine, joli baleinier
À Bordeaux ils sont arrivés
Pique la baleine et puis tu t'en vas!"
Through gaps in the crowd, they caught glimpses of what had drawn everyone's attention. Ruby and Oscar were dancing in the center, moving with the fluid grace of partners who had shared countless such moments across centuries. Ruby's cloak swirled around them as Oscar spun her, both of them laughing with an abandon their students had never seen before.
"Le navire est bien gréé
Pique la baleine, joli baleinier
Le navire est bien gréé
Pique la baleine et puis tu t'en vas!"
"Well," Yang said softly, a gentle smile replacing her usual grin, "this is new."
Blake's ears twitched in time with the music, taking in how naturally Ruby and Oscar moved together, how the years seemed to fall away from them both as they danced. "They look... happy."
"They look young," Weiss corrected, watching her former team leader spin through another verse. "Like the Ruby we remember."
Movement near the bar caught their attention. Adam sat at the counter, his usual intensity softened as he watched the dancers. A glass of something amber sat untouched before him, and there was an almost wistful quality to his expression that none of them had seen before.
The song built to its crescendo, the gathered Guardians' voices filling the ancient tavern with a warmth that seemed to push back the darkness waiting beyond its walls. For a moment, they weren't legends or warriors or even Guardians—they were just people, sharing a moment of joy in a world that offered too few of them.
"Pique la baleine et puis tu t'en vas!"
The final note hung in the air as Ruby and Oscar finished their dance, their foreheads touching briefly before they noticed their audience. Ruby's silver eyes widened with surprise and something that might have been embarrassment, but her smile remained bright as she spotted her former teammates.
"I guess you found us," she called out, slightly breathless from the dance.
Oscar grinned, his arm still around Ruby's waist. "Should have known they would."
Near the bar, Adam raised his untouched glass in quiet acknowledgment of their arrival, though his eyes never left the dancing pair at the center of the room. There was history here, they realized—not just between Ruby and Oscar, but in this place, among these veterans who had seen centuries of Light and darkness.
The trio made their way to the bar where Adam sat, his presence somehow both part of and separate from the festive atmosphere.
"Did they do this often?" Yang asked, gesturing toward Ruby and Oscar as another song began to build in the room. "Back then?"
Adam's fingers traced the rim of his untouched glass. "Often enough," he said quietly. "After missions, between battles. Sometimes just because Ruby insisted everyone needed to remember how to dance." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "She was right, of course. She usually was about things like that."
The opening notes of "Whup! Jamboree" began to build, and several veteran Guardians started stomping their boots in rhythm. Ruby's laugh rang out as Oscar pulled her back to the center, their movements already falling into what was clearly a well-practiced dance.
"Oh the times are hard and the wages low Whup! Jamboree, Whup! Jamboree The Rocky Road to Dublin, oh! Whup! Jamboree, Whup! Jamboree"
Ruby and Oscar moved together as if they'd danced this particular song a thousand times before—which, the trio realized, they probably had. Their feet traced complex patterns across the wooden floor as they wove between other dancing couples, Oscar occasionally lifting Ruby in perfect time with the chorus.
"And its all for me grog Me jolly jolly grog All for me beer and tobacco Well I spent all me tin On the lassies drinking gin Far across the western ocean I must wander"
The gathered Guardians' voices grew stronger with each verse, some beating time on ancient tables that had probably seen centuries of similar celebrations. Even a few Ghosts joined in, their shells spinning in rhythm as they added harmonic tones to the melody. But what happened next made the trio stop and stare.
Adam set down his glass and stood, Light gathering around his hands. It coalesced and solidified, taking the shape of a violin that gleamed with Solar energy. Without a word, he raised it to his shoulder and began to play, his bow drawing forth notes that seemed to dance with their own inner fire.
"He... what?" Yang managed, watching their former enemy create music from pure Light.
"Ruby taught him," Blake said suddenly, recognition dawning in her eyes. "Back in the Dark Age. She thought it would help him find his humanity again."
As if confirming her words, Adam's violin sang out clear and true, weaving perfectly with the voices of the gathered Guardians as Ruby and Oscar spun through another dance. For a moment, they could almost see it—centuries ago, in another tavern much like this one, a Warlord teaching her second-in-command that Light could create beauty as well as battle.
They found a quiet corner of The Last Arrow, the worn wooden table bearing centuries of marks from countless Guardian gatherings. Oscar and Ruby sat close together, sharing the same amber-colored drink that Adam nursed. The Light-crafted violin had dissolved back into pure energy, but its music still seemed to linger in the air.
"I can't believe you can make a violin out of Light," Yang said, still processing what they'd witnessed. Her own glass of something blue and sparking sat untouched.
"Ruby's idea," Adam replied quietly, his eyes distant with memory. "Said if I could make weapons, I could make music." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Took longer to master than the sword."
"You still practice," Blake observed, her ears catching the subtle confidence in how he'd played. It wasn't the hesitant music of someone who only occasionally remembered an old skill.
After "When I'm alone," Adam admitted. "Out in the wilds, between missions. It... helps. Reminds me." I would add:
"He plays for the stars," Blush chimed in, her crimson eye flickering fondly. "All those lonely nights between missions, his Light-crafted violin singing to distant galaxies. Though he'd never admit how much peace it brings him."
"Blush..." Adam's warning tone held no real heat.
"What? They should know there's more to you than swords and shadows," his Ghost continued, undaunted. "Even if you try so hard to hide it."
Ruby's silver eyes softened as she watched her old second-in-command. "The Light isn't just for fighting," she said, an echo of what must have been countless similar conversations across centuries. "It's for creating too. For finding beauty even in darkness."
"A lesson some of us took longer to learn than others," Oscar added, his hand finding Ruby's on the table.
Weiss studied the amber liquid in Ruby and Oscar's glasses, identical to Adam's. "I notice you three are drinking the same thing," she said carefully. "Is that significant?"
"Golden Age scotch," Ruby explained, a warm smile crossing her face. "From before the Collapse. The Last Arrow keeps a few bottles, saved for... special occasions."
"For remembering," Adam added softly, finally taking a sip of his drink. "And for honoring those who taught us how to be more than just weapons."
Yang watched the three veterans - her sister among them - and saw the weight of centuries in how they held their glasses, in the careful way they savored each sip. This wasn't just drinking; it was ritual, ceremony, a way of marking moments that mattered.
"To finding beauty in darkness," Ruby said, raising her glass. Oscar and Adam joined the toast without hesitation, a gesture they'd clearly shared many times before.
Blake's keen eyes caught how Adam's hand trembled slightly as he lowered his glass. "You miss this," she said, not quite a question. "Being part of... this."
"Sometimes," Adam admitted, his usual sharp edges softened by memory and maybe the scotch. "But you can't go back. You can only try to go forward better than you went before."
"Says who?" Ruby challenged gently, nudging his arm. "You're here now, aren't you?"
Yang leaned forward, a playful glint in her eye. "Speaking of being here - that was some pretty fancy footwork earlier. How long have you two been dancing like that?"
Ruby and Oscar exchanged one of those looks that seemed to contain centuries of shared memories. A touch of sadness crept into Ruby's smile.
"Jaune taught us, actually," she said softly. "Back during the early City Age. Said if we were going to be legends, we should at least know how to dance at victory celebrations."
"Jaune?" Weiss asked, surprise coloring her voice. "Our Jaune?"
Oscar chuckled warmly. "He was different after his resurrection - more confident, especially after joining the Iron Lords. But he never lost that desire to help others." His expression grew fond with memory. "He'd spend hours teaching new Guardians these old Earth dances. Said it gave them something to fight for - a reminder that life was about more than just survival."
"Took us weeks to learn this one," Ruby added, gesturing toward where other Guardians still danced. "Jaune was patient, but..." She laughed softly. "Let's just say I was better at wielding a scythe than following dance steps."
"He never gave up though," Adam contributed unexpectedly. "I remember watching him teach you both. Hour after hour, mission after mission. He'd say 'One more try, Ruby. You've mastered harder things than a simple waltz.'"
Yang's eyes widened slightly at this glimpse of a Jaune she'd never known - a confident warrior teaching living legends how to dance. "Sounds like he grew into quite the Guardian."
"He did," Ruby said quietly, her hand tightening around Oscar's. "And we're going to find him. Bring him home."
The weight of that promise settled over the table, making even the lively tavern atmosphere seem subdued. But there was hope in it too - the same hope that had led Ruby to teach Adam music, that had driven Jaune to teach his friends to dance.
After switching to regular ale, the mood at their table grew lighter with each round. Blake nursed her drink carefully, her ears twitching with amusement as she watched Yang attempt to match the veterans drink for drink. The familiar notes of "Rosibella" began to fill the tavern, and Ruby immediately perked up.
"Oh, Oscar, remember this one?" Her silver eyes sparkled as she tugged at his sleeve. "Come on, before I forget the steps again!"
Oscar laughed, allowing himself to be pulled from his chair. "As if you could forget. Jaune only made us practice it about a thousand times."
They rejoined the crowd of dancing Guardians, falling easily into the familiar rhythm. Adam watched them go, something almost like contentment softening his features as he sipped his whiskey.
"You..." Weiss began, her normally perfect posture significantly more relaxed as she leaned across the table toward Adam. Several empty glasses testified to why her usual composure had slipped. "You are a... a puzzle."
Adam raised an eyebrow, caught somewhere between amusement and wariness. "Am I?"
"YES!" Weiss planted both hands on the table, her face now uncomfortably close to his as she squinted in concentration. "What. Class. ARE you?"
Yang nearly choked on her drink while Blake's ears perked up with interest.
"I mean," Weiss continued, waving one hand in a gesture that nearly knocked over her empty glass, "you move like a Hunter sometimes, but then you fight like a Titan, and then sometimes you do... Warlocky things with your Light and it's VERY confusing and I've been studying ALL the texts and you don't make ANY sense!"
Adam stared at her for a long moment, then did something none of them expected - he laughed. Not a chuckle or a smirk, but an actual laugh that seemed to surprise even him.
"You've been trying to figure this out for a while, haven't you?" he asked, genuine amusement coloring his voice.
"WEEKS!" Weiss declared, falling back in her chair with an exasperated huff. "It's very... very... un-academic of you. Being all..." she waved her hand vaguely again, "undefined."
Blake's lips curved into a small smile. "She's got a point, actually. I've never seen anyone else fight quite like you do."
"That's because there isn't anyone else quite like him," Ruby's voice carried over from the dance floor as she and Oscar spun past their table. "Adam's special that way!"
"Ruby..." Adam's warning tone held no real heat.
"What? It's true!" Ruby called back before Oscar twirled her away again.
Yang leaned forward, her own cheeks slightly flushed from the whiskey. "Okay, now you have to tell us. What class ARE you?"
Adam took another sip of his drink, seeming to weigh his words. "The class system... it came later. After the City was established, after the Vanguard needed ways to organize and train new Guardians." His eyes grew distant. "In the Dark Age, we just... were. We learned what worked, what felt right. Some of us..." he glanced toward where Ruby danced, "had good teachers who showed us different ways to use our Light."
"But that doesn't answer the question!" Weiss protested, jabbing a finger in his direction and nearly falling out of her chair in the process.
"No," Adam agreed, catching her glass before she could knock it over. "It doesn't."
Blake's ears twitched forward. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Maybe a little."
"ADAM!" Weiss's indignant cry drew amused looks from nearby tables.
"Another round?" he offered innocently, already signaling the server.
"Oh, you... you're WORSE than a Warlock," Weiss declared, slumping forward onto the table. "At least we ADMIT when we're being cryptic..."
Yang burst out laughing while Blake tried and failed to hide her own amusement. In the background, Ruby and Oscar's dance had drawn a small crowd of admirers, their movements perfectly synchronized to the old Earth tune.
"I think," Blake said carefully, watching how the whiskey had stripped away some of Adam's usual sharp edges, "this is the most relaxed I've ever seen you."
Adam's expression softened slightly as he watched Ruby and Oscar dance. "It's... been a long time since I felt welcome here."
"Well," Yang declared, throwing an arm around Weiss's shoulders as the Warlock continued to mutter about 'undefined Light signatures' and 'taxonomic irregularities', "you're stuck with us now. Cryptic class status and all."
For once, Adam didn't argue.
The Tower's residential wing was quiet as Blake and Yang made their way back to their quarters, the latter humming fragments of sea shanties while carrying an unconscious Weiss piggyback. Their footsteps echoed softly through the dimly lit corridor, the Traveler's light casting gentle shadows through the windows.
"I can't believe Ruby taught Adam to play the violin," Yang said, shifting Weiss's weight carefully. "With Light! Did you see how it just... formed in his hands?"
Blake's ears twitched thoughtfully as she walked beside them. "It makes sense, in a way. Ruby always saw the best in people, even back on Remnant. Of course she'd find a way to teach someone like Adam that Light could create beauty, not just weapons."
"If you say so," Yang grunted, adjusting her grip as Weiss mumbled something about 'taxonomic irregularities' in her sleep. "Though I'm more impressed that Mr. Serious actually played for everyone."
They reached their quarters, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. Yang carefully deposited Weiss on the spare bed while Blake moved more gracefully to sit on their own.
"And she's out," Yang declared, pulling a blanket over their passed-out teammate. "Guess Warlocks can't hold their ale as well as they hold their theories about Light classifications."
Blake smiled fondly at Weiss's sleeping form. "She's going to have quite the headache tomorrow. And probably a lot more questions about Adam's undefined class status."
Yang flopped down beside Blake, still grinning. "It's strange though, isn't it? Seeing them all together like that - Ruby, Oscar, Adam. They have all this history we weren't part of. Centuries of it." She turned her head to look at Blake. "Does it bother you? Seeing him so... different?"
Blake was quiet for a moment, her golden eyes distant. "It's... complicated. The Adam we knew on Remnant was consumed by hatred, by a need for revenge. But this Adam..." She gestured vaguely. "He learned to create music from Light. He drinks with old friends and remembers teaching Ruby to dance. He's still carrying weight, but it's different now."
"The weight of centuries instead of hatred," Yang observed softly.
"Exactly." Blake's ears twitched again. "And seeing him with Ruby and Oscar... it's like glimpsing the person he could have been on Remnant, if he'd made different choices."
Yang wrapped an arm around Blake's shoulders. "Well, he's stuck with us now. Whether he likes it or not." She grinned. "Especially since we still need to figure out what class he actually is. Once Weiss recovers from her academic outrage, anyway."
From the spare bed came a muffled: "S'not in ANY of the texts... completely undefined Light resonance... very un-academic..."
Blake laughed softly, leaning into Yang's embrace. "I think she might be dreaming about it now."
"Maybe that's what Ruby saw in him," Yang suggested, her voice growing more serious. "Someone who didn't fit into neat categories, who could be more than what others expected."
"Maybe." Blake's voice grew quieter. "Do you think... do you think we'll find that kind of peace? After everything?"
Yang pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. "We already have, in our own way. We found each other again, across death and resurrection. We have our team, our Light." She smiled. "And apparently we have ancient Hunter bars with surprisingly decent ale."
"And sea shanties," Blake added with a small smile. "Don't forget the sea shanties."
"Never," Yang declared, starting to hum 'Whup! Jamboree' again, slightly off-key.
They sat together in comfortable silence after that, the Traveler's light painting silver paths across their floor. Tomorrow would bring more training, more preparation for the challenges ahead. But for now, they had this moment - this peace they'd found together, in a new life neither of them could have imagined.
And somewhere in the Tower, a Light-crafted violin played for the stars, its notes carrying centuries of memory into the endless night.
Weiss snored softly, still muttering about Light classifications in her sleep.