His Aura shatters like glass.

The sound pierces the chaos, sharp, ringing, final. Smoky gray light fractures outward, flickering with ember-red before vanishing into the black fog.

Ashen stumbles, but keeps moving. One hand clenched tight around Ashpiercer, the other pressed against a gash in his ribs.

Alright, Ashen. You have to keep moving.

He's bleeding. Badly. Doesn't matter. This is it. This is the end.

I have to end this here, once and for all.

Behind him, his team is down.

Ruby, face bloodied, unconscious on the cold, stone floor of Salem's lair. Jaune, pinned to the far wall by jagged black tendrils, too drained to scream. Ren and Nora, bound in midair, thrashing silently as Salem's magic strangles their voices.

Only he's left standing. One man against a Demi-God.

The ruined battlefield is silent except for his breath and her voice.

Salem. Towering, watching him approach. Unbothered. Her dress flows like liquid shadow, untouched by the wind.

Ashen's boots scrape against the broken stone. Each step feels like dragging the world with him. But he moves. One more breath. One more strike. That's all he needs to finish this. One well-placed strike to her chest.

He lunges with all of his strength. Spear extended out with the intent to kill. He lets out a blood-curdling scream as he drives Ashpiercer forward.

His scream is cut short by a wet crunch which is followed by a sharp pain that enters his back and out through his chest. The image his spear pierced fades to nothing. An illusion. Another trick. He looks down and notices a massive tendril protruding from his chest. Black, gnarled, ending with a bone-white claw.

He looks down, lips parting. Blood wells at the corner of his mouth. His legs give out and he falls to his knees. A twisted laugh echoes through the dark.

No. This can't be it. This can't be where it ends. I have to defeat her! I have to end her. For my friends, for Ozpin, for all of Remnant.

Salem approaches with slow, deliberate grace. She lifts his chin, makes him look at her. Her smile is sinister. Cold. Her voice is soft, triumphant. "You thought you were special, that Ozpin's little soldier would be the one to win his war." She whispers only loud enough for him to hear.

Ashen tries to spit in her face but only manages more blood. It trails down his chin. He's dying. He's felt this before. Too many times. He always fears the pain. Not the dying. The pain. It's never quick. Never clean.

"You're not the first he's sent after me," she continues, tilting her head. "And you won't be the last. Just another failed weapon. Another life spent. Another cog in a machine you don't understand."

The tendril withdraws in one savage rip. The pain is white-hot, numbing. He collapses to the floor, motionless.

"You'll die like the rest," she murmurs, standing over him. "Alone. Powerless. Forgotten."

This was it. This was where we put the she-bitch down. For all of mankind. She doesn't deserve to live!

His fingers lose their grip on Ashpiercer. It clatters beside him.

The stone floor is cold beneath his cheek.

"You die here, Ashen Frost…" she breathes.

"...cursing me."

Darkness.

Ashen woke with a gasp.

Fingers gripped the armrests on either side of him. His chest rose and fell in short, ragged breaths. His head whipped side to side, eyes wide, searching: stone, tendrils, Salem.

Gone.

Ashen heard Soft humming. The muted rattle of metal underfoot. The quiet murmur of voices. He was seated. Strapped in. An Atlas transport ship.

He stared straight ahead, blinking fast. A girl beside him turned in her seat, startled. "Sir, are you okay?"

He didn't acknowledge her. Instead, Ashen unbuckled in a blur of motion and vaulted over the row. The girl yelped as he landed hard in the aisle, boots thudding. Every set of eyes in his section turned toward him. He didn't stop. He pushed past a pair of startled cadets, yanked open the bathroom door, and slammed it shut behind him.

Darkness. Cramped metal walls. A weak overhead light flickering. He dropped to his knees and vomited into the toilet. His hands shook as they gripped the rim. Cold sweat clung to his brow. The floor wasn't stone. His ribs didn't ache. There was no hole in his chest. Slowly, trembling, he pulled up his shirt. No blood. No wound. Just smooth skin. A faint old scar from a mission in Vacuo. Nothing more. He let out a breath that sounded too much like a sob. Then sat back against the wall, still breathing hard.

That wasn't a dream.
That was Salem.
That was real.

His heart thudded in his ears.

I died. I felt it. I failed.
She killed me. I failed them.
Ren. Nora. Jaune. Ruby.

He slammed his fist against the wall. Not hard. Just enough to feel something. His breathing wouldn't slow down. He curled in slightly, arms resting on his knees, forehead pressed to them. He counted to ten. Tried to center himself. It didn't work.

I was there.
I made it all the way to the end.
So why am I back at the beginning?

A knock on the door pulls him from his thoughts.

"Specialist Frost?" A voice, male. Cautious, but concerned. "You good in there?"

Ashen didn't answer at first.

Another knock. "Hey, uh… you need me to call a doc?"

Ashen pressed his palms into his eyes.

"No," he finally said, voice low and raw. "Just… something I ate. I'll be fine."

A pause.

"You sure?"

"I said I'm fine. Give me a second."

"Alright. I'll be right out here."

Footsteps retreated from the bathroom.

He stayed in place for a moment longer. The silence let his thoughts run wild again, but at least his breathing was steadying. After a minute, he stood. Turned on the tap. Splashed cold water on his face and gripped the sink. His reflection stared back at him. Pale. Sweating. Eighteen again. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. Pulled out the journal. Surprisingly fresh, nothing but clean pages. Always with him. He opened it to a blank page. Stared at it.

The pen hovered.

No.
Not yet.

If anyone around him caught even a glimpse of what he wrote… they'd think he was insane. He slid the journal shut and returned it to his pocket. One more deep breath. One more mask.

He opened the door. Carter stood nearby, leaning against the wall with folded arms. He glanced over. "You alright?"

Ashen nodded once. "Rough air. I'll live."

The soldier smirked. "You always do."

Ashen didn't smile back. He turned and made his way back to his seat and sat down. Buckled himself back in. Glanced out the window.

Clouds rolled by, catching the dying light of sunset.

Why did my semblance bring me back here? I never marked this moment. What does it want me to know? What did I miss the first time around? All I know is Beacon is ahead, and this time… everything changes.

The ramp lowered with a mechanical hiss. Sunlight spilled into the hold of the Atlesian transport, warm and golden. Ashen approached the opening of the airship and paused at the top of the ramp. The courtyard stretched out before him, tall archways, soft brick paths, cherry blossom trees just starting to bloom. Students bustled past, voices light, steps unhurried. Laughter echoed from the main building.

Ashen stepped out onto Beacon grounds. A pair of first-years jogged across the quad, clothes still dusty from the Emerald Forest. Another group collapsed onto the grass, swapping stories like war veterans after a bar fight.

They were carefree.

Alive.

Ashen's eyes scanned the faces. And stopped.

Nora, sprawled out on the lawn, arms behind her head, smiling up at the clouds like they'd never parted ways in battle. Ren beside her, sitting in quiet peace. His posture relaxed. No blood. No weight in his eyes.

They were together.

They're alive.

He turned his head. Ruby stood near the courtyard's edge with Yang and Blake, her red cloak catching the breeze like a banner. She was animated, talking with her hands, likely recounting something chaotic from the Emerald Forest. Yang smirked through a mouthful of snacks, tossing a wrapper over her shoulder. Blake listened quietly, arms crossed, golden eyes scanning the crowd like she didn't quite trust the peace around her.

Off to the side, near the shade of a tall column, Jaune spoke with Pyrrha. He gestured sheepishly at something on his scroll, scratching the back of his head. Pyrrha smiled, patient, nodding along as if whatever he said actually made sense.

All of them. Here. Whole.

Ashen blinked hard. The wind stung his eyes, but that wasn't it.

He stepped off the ramp.

Cadets and faculty passed him without a second glance. A few Atlesian soldiers broke off from the group, wheeling cargo cases toward the admin office. Carter gave him a nod in passing.

Ashen didn't respond. Couldn't.

You died. I watched each of you die.

He turned toward the courtyard again. Watched Ruby help Weiss to her feet after some minor stumble. Weiss brushed herself off with that haughty flick of her hand, but her face was flushed. Ashen remembered that look, somewhere between annoyance and surprise.

It had been years since he saw it. But here, it was new again.

He walked forward, intent to see the rest of the grounds that he thought would only stay a distant memory. The laughter and joy he could never get back, but his thoughts were interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

Ashen turned to see Professor Port. A man with bushy eyebrows and mustache to match. Pot bellied and long winded. "Pardon me, Specialist," Port began. "Headmaster Ozpin had sent me to guide you to his office. He would like to discuss the rules and expectations of your time here at this school."

Ashen couldn't believe it was him. This man standing before him had died years ago. He didn't know how or when. He just heard it in passing that Port had died protecting a settlement from a hoard of Grimm. Nothing Ashen could have done. They weren't even on the same continent at the time.

"Specialist? Is something wrong?" Port said when he noticed Ashen staring through him.

"No, uh sorry about that. Please, lead the way, Professor," Ashen said, shaking off the fog in his mind.

"Very well." Port responded as he turned about and headed toward the school.

Even the dead are alive. I really did travel back to the start of Beacon.

Ashen followed Professor Port through the arched halls of Beacon, footsteps echoing on polished stone. Students passed by, laughing or chatting, shoulders still loose from the high of surviving initiation. Ashen kept his eyes forward. Each hallway they passed felt like walking through a photograph, familiar, frozen in time. The banners. The paintings. Even the faint scent of coffee and chalk in the air.

They reached the elevator. Port pressed the button. "You'll be meeting with Headmaster Ozpin privately. He requested the conversation remain off the record." He glanced over, then added with a proud huff, "Don't let his calm demeanor fool you. He's sharper than his coffee is strong."

Ashen gave a tight nod. "Understood."

The elevator opened. Port gave him a respectful nod and stepped back. Ashen entered alone. The ride was quiet, the gentle hum of ascent the only sound. He rolled his shoulders once, quietly rehearsing what to say, and more importantly, what not to say.

The doors opened. Beacon's tower office stretched out in front of him. Wide windows bathed the room in warm afternoon light. The far wall was all glass, overlooking the courtyard. Shelves lined the sides, filled with books, scrolls, and relics too old to belong in a school. And in the center, behind a polished desk, stood Professor Ozpin.

Green eyes met his. "Specialist Frost," Ozpin greeted, folding his hands behind his back. "Welcome to Beacon."

Ashen stepped forward and stood at attention. "Sir."

"No need for formality." Ozpin motioned to a seat across from him. "Please, have a seat. We're simply having a conversation."

Ashen looked over at the chair in front of the desk. He hesitated but decided it was better to sit. Straight-backed. Controlled. The mask was on.

Ozpin poured two cups of coffee. He placed one gently on the desk in front of Ashen, then sat down with his own.

For a moment, neither spoke. Ozpin studied him, not unkindly, but thoroughly. Measuring.

"I must say," Ozpin began, voice calm, "Atlas rarely sends its Specialists into academic environments. Particularly not ones as… visible as this."

Ashen nodded and reached for the offered mug. "While I can't speak directly for General Ironwood, I believe Beacon's culture and combat philosophies offer unique insights. The General has expressed that exposure could benefit Atlas's next generation of Huntsmen and Huntresses." Ashen said, took a sip as he finished his statement.

"A noble idea," Ozpin said. He sipped his coffee. "And how do you feel about it?"

Ashen met his gaze. "I'm honored by the opportunity. And I intend to learn everything I can while I'm here."

"Spoken like a soldier," Ozpin said.

There was a pause. The sunlight shifted just slightly across the floor.

"You'll be treated as a student in most respects," Ozpin continued, setting his coffee aside. "You'll attend classes, participate in team activities, and be given equal expectations. However, you will not be placed on a student team."

"That's fine."

"Instead, you'll be observed."

Ashen said nothing. Frozen by what that meant.

Ozpin smiled faintly. "I mean that in the friendliest way possible. You are a Specialist. Your actions will be noticed. Your presence will affect things. My faculty and I will be watching, not to judge, but to understand."

Ashen nodded once.

Another pause.

Ozpin leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping gently against the armrest.

"Forgive the question, but… are you comfortable being around the younger students? Many of them are fresh from their villages or early combat school. Some haven't even seen a real Grimm before."

Ashen kept his expression still. "I know I got a head start by being conscripted at an early age, but I am their age. I've also worked with new recruits before. I understand how to adapt."

"I'm sure you do."

Something in Ozpin's tone was lighter than before, but there was an edge beneath it. Like a needle hidden in silk.

Ashen didn't flinch.

Finally, Ozpin stood. He walked slowly toward the window, hands clasped behind his back. "I won't keep you long. The team announcement ceremony is this evening. Until then, I encourage you to rest. Explore the grounds. Observe."

Ashen stood as well, downing the rest of the coffee in one pull.

"If I may ask," he said, "why bring me here at all?"

Ozpin turned his head slightly.

"A question worth asking," Ozpin replied. "And I'm sure Ironwood has a dozen reasons of his own."

He paused.

"But personally?" Ozpin looked out over the courtyard below. "I believe in second chances. Even when we don't understand them."

Ashen's chest tightened, just slightly. Then he nodded. "I'll do my best to be worthy of it."

Ozpin's gaze lingered on him for a breath longer than necessary.

Then he smiled.

"I suspect you already are."

Ashen walked the grounds alone, the sun shifting toward late afternoon, casting long shadows across the stone paths. Students passed him in clusters, faces flushed from post-initiation adrenaline, laughter echoing like it belonged to another world.

He followed the winding walkway past the training fields, past the courtyard where Ruby had waved her arms like she was telling the most important story ever spoken. Past the dorm buildings, where clothes hung across open windows and victory snacks were already being shared. Everything was clean. Unbroken. Still standing. This is what it looked like before the Fall. That thought hit harder than he expected.

He took a slow breath, hands folded behind his back like a soldier on inspection. But his eyes scanned every brick, every tower, every tree. He was trying to find the cracks. Some proof that it had all come undone before. There were none. This is real.

I've been given a second chance. I don't know why. I don't know how. But I'm not wasting it. He turned a corner near the edge of a stone archway. And walked straight into someone.

A sharp intake of breath. A light gasp. Then, "Ah, my apologies!"

Ashen took a single step back. Weiss Schnee blinked up at him, adjusting her grip on her scroll she nearly dropped. Her combat outfit was prim and proper. Not a single stain nor any sign she had just finished initiation an hour ago. Her hair was in her signature, perfect off-set ponytail.

Ashen didn't move. Weiss shifted again. "You're… the Specialist from Atlas, aren't you?"

Ashen gave a small nod. "I am."

She hesitated, clearly caught between formality and curiosity. "I didn't know Ironwood was sending anyone to Beacon. Especially not someone with… credentials like yours. You're Specialist Frost, correct? Are you here for combat training?"

Ashen watched her carefully. Calculating, composed… but the slight flush in her cheeks gave her away.

"Yes, actually," he said. "While obviously I have my own training, I am here to also observe. I'm here to study Beacon's structure and participate in class, so that I may take these practices back to Atlas and share the ideas and techniques I gather here."

Weiss tilted her head, studying him with a level of scrutiny he didn't expect.

"That's… strange timing," she said. "You arrived today. During initiation."

"I was scheduled to arrive before," Ashen lied smoothly. "The transport was delayed."

She nodded slowly, but it was clear her mind was still working. A Schnee didn't accept answers at face value.

"Well," she said after a beat, "I'm sure General Ironwood has his reasons."

He didn't respond. They stood in silence a second longer than was comfortable. Weiss stored her scroll, gave a sharp nod, then turned on her heel and walked off. No farewell, no pleasantries.

Ashen watched her go. Not out of offense. Just… processing.

She was different. Just like the rest of them. Untouched by what had happened. Untouched by him. He turned back toward the dorm building. He Passed the archway again, and then he saw him. His steps faltered, just for a moment.

Clover Ebi stood by one of the landing pads, talking casually with two Atlas soldiers. Laughing. Confident. Whole. Everyone compared me to him. Said our Semblances must've been alike. Always saying I was his long-lost little brother.

Ashen froze. That familiar grin. The upright posture. That sense of calm control. Clover, the one who believed in him when everything else fell apart. The one he couldn't save. The memory hit like a gut punch. Clover bleeding out. Ashen screaming. The way the world went quiet after. It took time to learn the real reason Qrow killed him. I understood on a basic level, but I could never forgive him. Clover had been my mentor growing up. He taught me everything I knew.

Ashen didn't move.

He didn't breathe. He couldn't draw a single breath at that moment.

But his hands clenched at his sides. He's alive. The moment passed. Ashen turned away and walked toward his dorm, expression unreadable. To anyone watching, he looked like just another soldier walking a perimeter. But inside?

Inside, the war had started again.

"Jaune Arc. Lie Ren. Pyrrha Nikos. Nora Valkyrie. The four of you retrieved the white rook pieces. From this day forward, you will be known as Team JNPR." Professor Ozpin's voice cut across the auditorium, flat, even, every syllable enunciated with practiced neutrality.

All of this year's initiates were gathered in Beacon's expansive auditorium. On the stage stood Jaune, the bubbling blonde who used falsified transcripts to sneak into the school. Pyrrha, a tournament champion from Mistral, hoping to start over in a place that didn't worship her. Nora, a redhead, literally bombastic, excitable, joyful, and deeply wounded. Ren, quiet, measured, calm. Here for Nora. Hoping for peace. And finally, there was Professor Ozpin. White hair, strange green tint to his glasses, and an entirely green outfit that made him look both eccentric and regal. His face betrayed nothing. Like this ceremony, this day, this moment of hope for so many, was just another rotation of the world to him. I knew things about them they didn't know about themselves. Not yet.

"Led by… Jaune Arc," Ozpin finished, and gave a polite clap as the team stepped forward. Jaune's mouth dropped open. Pyrrha tried for a shoulder bump and sent him stumbling. The team quickly recovered and exited the stage, chattering as the new team was called up. "And finally… Blake Belladonna. Ruby Rose. Weiss Schnee. Yang Xiao Long."

Blake, the black-haired Faunus. Ears hidden beneath a bow. A former White Fang member running from her past and toward something better. Ruby, the silver-eyed speedster. Youngest in the room. The future turning on her shoulders, and she doesn't even know it yet. Yang, her half-sister. Fire in her eyes. A laugh that masks grief. She's chasing ghosts. Weiss, cold on the outside, but not truly icy. The heiress with something to prove to a father who never believed in her, and a sister too distant to follow.

He motioned toward them as he continued, "The four of you retrieved the knight pieces. From this day forward, you will be known as team RWBY. Led by… Ruby Rose."

Weiss stiffened. Her lips pressed into a line. Ruby froze in shock. Yang cheered and wrapped her little sister in a bear hug before Weiss could verbally object. They were ushered off the stage as murmurs swept through the room. Then Ozpin stepped forward again.

His voice stayed calm. Measured. "Will Ashen Frost please come to the stage."

A hush spread like fog through the crowd at Ozpin's declaration, followed by a low ripple of murmurs and searching glances. No one knew the name. That was good.

I pushed off the wall and moved toward the side steps. Each step pulled more eyes than the last. As I made my way toward the stage, murmurs rippled through the crowd. Ozpin's gaze followed me, sharp and unreadable. Every step forward made the weight of their stares heavier. I didn't flinch. I continued with the same confident stride. This is where I start to alter the future. Everyone is going to be counting on me whether they know it or not.

I climbed the stairs, posture steady, hands behind my back, stance confident and poised. A soldier. An unknown. I've walked to stages like this before. But not with everyone alive.

Ozpin turned back to the microphone, "Mr. Frost is a Specialist from the Kingdom of Atlas. As part of a new initiative between our academies, he will be stationed here at Beacon to attend classes, participate in exercises, and provide insight into Atlesian combat doctrine." This was quickly followed by more murmuring from the crowd. Confusion. Speculation. Ozpin didn't pause, "Though he will not be joining a team, he will live and train alongside you all. As one of you. This marks the beginning of a cooperative program we hope will strengthen the bonds between kingdoms in these increasingly dangerous times."

My eyes flicked toward the crowd. Not to study the faces, but to confirm what I already knew. Ruby Rose was practically vibrating. She whispered something excitedly to her sister, eyes wide and sparkling. She thinks this is special. She's right but not for the reasons she thinks. Weiss Schnee stood perfectly straight, her posture suddenly too rehearsed. Her eyes narrowed slightly, studying me like a business proposal she hadn't anticipated. She's already calculating how this affects her status. Already wondering what her father would think. Yang Xiao Long gave her sister a shrug and crossed her arms. Unbothered. Unimpressed. Detached. Blake Belladonna's expression didn't change, but her golden eyes stayed on me, too long to be casual. She sees the angles. Too bad she's assuming all of the wrong reasons.

Clover stood near the wall with the other Atlesian escorts. His smile had faded. Helmet under one arm. The same thoughtful posture I remembered. He didn't say anything, but his eyes lingered a moment too long. I have no idea what he's thinking.

I kept my expression still. Professional. Neutral.

Ozpin's voice brought the attention back. "Welcome to Beacon, Specialist Frost."

I gave a sharp nod in return. "Thank you, sir. I'll do what's required of me."

There was no cheering or clapping like all of the other teams received as I turned and left the stage. The whispers behind me followed like smoke, curling around names and guesses and questions. Let them talk. They see a Specialist. I see a second chance with a countdown.

We will all live through the fall of Beacon. Even if I have to drag every one of them, kicking and screaming, out of the fire. After all, they only knew what they saw. And I'd spent a lifetime making sure no one saw the truth.

Journal Entry: Day One

I died.

That's how this starts. That's how it always starts. I started journaling when I stopped being able to keep track of what's happened and what happened in the previous life. My memories always carried over but that was it. The journal always shows the last version of me.

I've gone through a dozen journals since I started Beacon. If I remember right, Clover actually got me this as a gift for my first solo mission. Everyone would always make fun of me for journaling everything that happened. They'd do the same thing if they had the power I do.

I don't know what triggered it this time. I made a save point before the final battle, but this wasn't it. Not even close. I don't remember activating my Semblance. One moment I was bleeding out at Salem's feet. The next, I was eighteen again, strapped into a transport bound for Beacon.

It wasn't a dream. The pain was real. The failure was real.

And now… they're all alive.

Ruby was telling stories in the courtyard like nothing ever happened. Jaune was awkward, but standing. Nora and Ren were together, laughing. Clover… Clover was smiling. I hadn't seen that smile since the day he died in my arms.

Everything's clean again. Unbroken. Just like I remember. But that's the problem, isn't it? I remember what's coming. I don't know if this is my second chance or the universe's idea of a joke, but I won't waste it. I'll play my part. I'll be the quiet Specialist. The good soldier. The observant student.

But if Beacon falls again…

It won't be because I stayed silent.

Gods, I need a drink.

– A.F.

Hey, howdy, How's it going? I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter of Ashes Reborn.

Kinda a darker atmosphere then what I've tried to write previously, but I think it works very well.

This is a story I've been mulling over for a while. I really hope you like it. I can't wait to write more.

I don't have really much to add at the end here, but if you want to see more please favorite and follow. Also review the work and tell me what you like and where I can improve! It means a lot and will keep me motivated!