Threads of Light and Shadow In remnant

by lodiosgamer

In the world of Remnant, a mysterious man begins to interfere with the story of RWBY. While Jimmy grows up in a peaceful village under the shadow of an Gaurdian tree that seems almost alive, his life is far from ordinary. His friends, Jane and Ranger, excel in combat and aura mastery, while Jimmy's aura remains a puzzle—constantly shifting through colors and manifestations.

13. Chapter 13

As they crossed the threshold, the world shifted.

It wasn't white, nor black—but a hazy gray, smeared across a sky that had no sun. Blips of darkness flickered in the corners of their eyes—shadowy pulses like memories trying to crawl free. Somewhere in the air, a serenity echoed: the faint warmth of laughter, the ghost of a mother's hum. Then… a clock, ancient and rusted, ticking slow, as if time itself was unsure of its next step.

They stood together, weapons drawn by instinct, yet unnerved.

Jimmy—no, Silver now—stood ahead, arms spread like a preacher or madman on a stage.

"Welcome," he said softly, "to the spiritual plane. If you noticed… your armor, your gear—it's gone. Stripped. Only your main weapons remain."

Coco stared at her empty holsters. "You sound more stable now. Did your brain finally come back online?"

Silver gave a broken smile. "Some of it. The power that hit me… shook my bones loose, but now I've stitched some of the rage back into sense."

Velvet glanced around. Strange sprouts littered the soil, flickering with colors that changed with her breath. On a hill stood a massive tree, roots tangled in thick vines, its bark a shifting mural of faces—some crying, some screaming, others silent.

"That's the Spirit Tree," Silver said calmly, slowly twirling his blade in one hand. "Where the beliefs of humanity converge. Where the seeds of emotion root themselves."

Fox's brow furrowed. "So… what now?"

Silver turned toward them slowly, voice flat. "Be kind. And watch out for holes."

"Holes?" Velvet echoed. "What kind of holes?"

"You know. Fox holes. Prayer dogs. Worms that whisper. The usual." Silver scratched his head. "Actually… none of you understand what I'm saying, do you?"

He spun toward the empty air. "I'm gonna need a cat."

The others exchanged confused glances. "A cat?" Yatsuhashi asked cautiously.

"Yeah, a black one. The Black Cat of Misfortune. She's nearby."

"A Black Cat?" Coco repeated, folding her arms. "You're getting worse again."

"Wait," Fox squinted. "Didn't he say fox earlier?"

Silver waved him off. "Semantics. It's a creature native to—ahh, spoilers. Right. No history spoilers today."

Yatsuhashi rolled his eyes. "Okay, madman with a box."

"No box. Just a river that flows backward," Silver chuckled darkly. "You'll get it someday. Wait no unless maybe no."

Before anyone could respond, Fox took a single step forward—then vanished, the ground beneath him giving way like smoke.

"Fox!" Velvet shouted.

Silver blinked. "Ah. Right. I did warn him."

Coco stormed up to him, grabbing his collar. "If he dies, I swear to the gods—"

"He'll be fine," Silver said, voice unshaken. "The tunnel he's in? It'll take him to the tree. That's how this place works."

"How do you know?" Velvet asked, heart still racing.

"Because," Silver said, eyes flickering with light and dark in rhythm, "a cat has arrived."

Silence settled over them like a blanket of fog. "Wait… what does that mean?" Velvet asked again, her voice smaller now.

"They mean me." The voice was smooth, melodic—and unmistakably ancient. A low, feline hum rippled through the gray.

A massive black cat emerged, perched effortlessly on a thick sprout that pulsed with spiritual energy. Its fur shimmered like ink under a black sun, and its two long tails flicked behind it in rhythmic sways. It leapt down with eerie grace, landing silently before Silver.

The cat peered into his eyes—eyes of multiple hues, constantly shifting like a kaleidoscope torn between worlds. The moment their gazes locked, the cat froze. Then it bowed. Both tails dipped in unison, curling into a graceful loop.

"I… I apologize," said the cat. Its voice was rich and feminine, yet laced with something wrong. "I did not realize you had returned."

Coco tensed. "Okay… why does everything here seem to know who he is?"

Silver didn't even look back. His voice was calm. "I was the first. The first human to cultivate a seed… the one who connected the Spirit Tree to the physical realm. That was… a long time ago."

The cat blinked slowly. "Then I ask, how may I serve? I am the Cat of Trickery, guardian of paths untaken."

Silver chuckled, low and sharp. "Don't lie to me, Mischief. I know your true name."

The cat's pupils narrowed into slits. "Forgive me… I did not expect you to remember."

"I didn't remember," said Silver, eyes narrowing. "But the darkness did. I searched its folds for truth. And there you were—darker than most, barely brushed by light."

Coco raised a hand. "Okay, slow down—my friend Fox fell through the ground. Where did it take him?"

The cat's head swiveled toward her. "Ah… a fox hole. A spiritual pathway… likely to the Seed of Prayer. He'll be challenged there—but not harmed. Unless he prays for the wrong thing."

Silver exhaled. "Good. At least it's prayer... and not vengeance."

But then, he winced—hard. Clutching his head. "Urgh—my mind. Something's… rattling."

"You've melded with an echo," said Mischief, her voice laced with fear. "That's… extremely unstable."

"What's an echo?" Coco asked, stepping closer.

"An echo," said the cat, "is a leftover impression of a being too powerful to die. Silver's mind is now sharing space with a ghost of a man—a fracture of memory given thought."

Silver coughed, laughing bitterly. "If I don't stabilize… I lose control. And if that happens… everything here—every beast, every root, every fragment of power—will leak into Remnant."

"And the beasts?" asked Velvet, eyes wide.

"They'll begin the purge," said Mischief softly. "First the light, then the dark, then the Grimm. Then… anyone who remembers either."

Yatsuhashi stepped forward. "What about us?"

"You?" The cat tilted her head and started to laugh. "You'll be caught in a war you can't comprehend. Used as pawns. Or worse… as mirrors to old sins."

There was silence. Then, with cartoonish flair, Silver grinned, pointed to nowhere in particular, and shouted, "Welp! Time to run!" He sprinted, arms flailing slightly, madness and purpose twisting in his wake.

Mischief rolled her eyes and sighed. "Always dramatic." With a flick of her twin tails, she snatched up Coco and Velvet, placing them gently across her back.

"Come," she said, tail swishing. "Before the path closes."

Yatsuhashi took off running, the cat bounding beside him with dreamlike agility. Silver led the way—twirling his blade, murmuring to himself about doorways, riddles, and the sins no one speaks aloud. He bounced like the cat avoiding unknown things.

Infront of them, the Spirit Tree shivered.

As they bounded through the surreal expanse of the spirit realm, the world unfolded like an old dream written in ink and smoke. The sapling of trees growing stretched into the plains like pillars of a forgotten purpose, their bark etched faintly with life. The wind carried whispers—some sounding like prayers, others like broken lullabies. Their stepped tapped against a shifting path of silvered grass, each step soft yet echoing with strange resonance.

Velvet clung tightly to the sleek fur of the two-tailed feline. Her ears twitched with unease. She turned to look at her strange steed.

"Human girl with bunny ears... what are you?" asked the cat with a crooked smile, its two tails spiraling in opposite directions like twin comets.

"I'm not human. I'm a Faunus," Velvet said, brow furrowed. "And what about you? Why do you have two tails?"

Mischief tilted her head and gave a long stretch, feline grace bending her body like water. "Ahh, a dusk-born soul. Sweet and soft. As for my tails? That's simple. We beasts don't follow one form. We wear the masks of stories. Of faith. Of fear. My two tails are echoes of old beliefs—some said we were signs of fortune. Others, omens of ruin. In some words, I was a demon with velvet paws."

Coco leaned forward slightly. "Demons what are those like grimm?"

"Oh, demons... that's a tricky word," Mischief said, eyes glinting like shattered obsidian. "Some say they're corrupted souls, twisted by hate. Others whisper of fallen deities, gods dragged down by their own worshippers. Both are half-truths. Just depends who's telling the story."

"You're dodging," Yatsuhashi said bluntly. "Do you even know what Grimm are?"

The cat spun in place mid-air, landing on the back of its paws, smug. "Grimm... Grimm... Yes." She said it like a unfamlaire name. "Not personally acquainted, but I've heard their name. Things without soul, born of nature, yes? I know of them in the way a shadow knows the flame—intimately, from a distance."

Velvet blinked. "You make it sound like a bedtime tale."

"Isn't your world one?" Mischief purred. "I know of Remnant. Of silver-eyed girls and shattered moons. Of a girl in red with a scythe and a howl in her chest. Her team RWBY, wasn't it? Like the name of a charm or a warning."

"You know about Ruby's team?" Coco's voice sharpened.

Mischief smiled wide. "I remember their shapes, not their faces. Their stories, not their names. They're legends in motion. But don't get caught up in them. They aren't part of this book anymore."

Silver suddenly tensed. His eyes flickered with shifting colors, his hair gradually paling until half of it gleamed with streaks of white. He hissed through clenched teeth. "Enough about them. That's not our path."

Mischief dropped to the ground, tails swaying low. "Your time's fraying, Master. You've got a day. Maybe a bit more. Did you put the memory where it belongs?"

Silver nodded slowly. "Beacon. The headmaster has it. Guarded."

Yatsuhashi's eyes narrowed. "What did you leave behind?"

Silver said nothing. Mischief answered instead, her voice now solemn. "The creation of why he exists. The weapon he carries. The echo he is. It's not just power... it's a promise. To undo the cage that birthed him."

They slowed as the forest opened to reveal a massive door carved from living wood. Vines coiled around its surface, and two hollowed holes glowed faintly within the trunk like ancient sentinels.

Velvet and Coco dismounted with awe, their feet barely making a sound against the moss-laced stone. "Damn," Velvet breathed. "That's one huge door."

"Of course," Mischief said, bowing slightly. "You're standing at the threshold of where spirit and birth begans become truth." The cat sniffed the air and frowned. "But where is the bull?"

"Give him time," Silver said absently. He circled the edge of the clearing. "We're not here for the beast yet. We need the sapling."

Coco crossed her arms. "Sapling? We came here for a monster, not a tree."

Silver's expression flickered with something between sadness and amusement. "Sometimes... the sapling is the beast. Sometimes what grows is what breaks the world—or saves it."

Mischief looked up at her companions with wide, ancient eyes. "Little Faunus... remember this: The smallest seeds carry the oldest blood. Some roots dig through more than soil. They tear through time. That's what we are, blood and spirit giving form."

"We are seeds—born of human spirit and shaped by bone and ancient belief," said Mischief, her voice weaving between curiosity and warning as her two tails flicked unpredictably. Her gaze darted along the saplings of the path, nose twitching. "Oh… fishy."

"Focus, Mischief. The Bull of Earth is near," Silver said calmly, though the edges of his smirk hinted at something knowing—something darker.

Then Yatsuhashi spotted it: a sapling. Small, seemingly harmless, sprouting defiantly in the cracks of stone. He stepped forward and gently touched its glowing leaves.

Instantly, the ground beneath them rumbled like the roar of a mountain. An ear-shattering bellow followed—Yatsuhashi was slammed into the wall by a sudden burst of golden energy. A massive figure emerged, shaking the earth beneath their feet. It like above the sapling It snorted as to reveal itself.

Towering as tall as the tree-shaped gate itself, the golden bull stood wreathed in spiritual pressure. Its horns were jagged obsidian at the tips, and its fur shimmered with divine light. Its red eyes glowed with accusation, steam snorting from its flaring nostrils as it stomped.

"You! Flesh-born!" the bull's voice boomed like thunder. "What gives you the right to lay your hand upon my sapling? Do you seek death, mortal?"

"Ahhh... The Golden Bull. Core of Charge," Silver muttered reverently, as if reading from an ancient poem.

The beast's eyes flared crimson. Without hesitation, it charged—not at Yatsuhashi, but straight for Silver, its hooves splitting the earth with every thunderous step.

"Silver, move!" Velvet screamed.

But Silver didn't. He stood motionless, smiling softly. Then, with a flick of his wrist, his blade spun in his palm. A gravity glyph opened above, and another beneath—the two collided with a booming snap as he summoned an image of Baorbatustk, the guardian of force. The projection slammed into the bull's head, forcing it to the ground.

The dust cleared. Silver now stood atop the creature's massive nose, staring into its stunned, pulsing eyes. "I misjudged," the bull said, voice heavy with shame and awe. "Forgive me. I did not recognize you."

Silver slid off gently, landing without a sound. "I understand. These are strange times. Open the door—I must speak to Solomon."

The bull hesitated. "Even if you were once the Old Master… you are not whole. You are an echo. A spirit caught between souls."

Then the bull turned to Mischief, narrowing its gaze. "And you… are forbidden here, Trickster. The Oath of Deceit still binds you."

Mischief twirled both tails, unbothered. "Ahhh, but new authority grants me freedom—for now. The world spins strangely these days, old friend."

Silver's breath hitched, his voice cracking like a cracked mirror. "Enough! The door. Now."

The bull's hooves scraped stone. "The authority of the Beast of Nature denies entry."

Silver clenched his fists, fingers twitching with suppressed power. "Then the Trial of the Bull begins. Test Yatsuhashi. He is the one chosen for the Path of Charge."

The bull turned, stamping once. Its golden hide began to glow with divine resonance. "Very well, warrior of Vale. If he demands it, you will face the Trial of Charge. Steel your soul."

The bull slammed its hoof, shaking the ground. From the sapling, a shimmering ripple spread outward—like glass melting into liquid light—revealing a circular platform surrounded by the layered folds of spirit mist. Time itself seemed to slow.

"Enter, young human," rumbled the bull, voice echoing like thunder against the soul. "And prepare yourself."

But Yatsuhashi staggered, clutching his ribs. "I… I'm injured. I can't fight in this state."

"No matter," Silver muttered, already moving toward a separate sapling pulsing with faint light.

Without warning, he twisted his blade, tapping the small trunk lightly. The on the hilt spun slowly, whispering something ancient as the air around the sapling thickened—shimmered.

Something slithered out of the sprout. A fish. Its scales shimmered in hues of violet, blue, and translucent silver, as if dipped in moonlight. It floated above the sapling, turning in midair like it was swimming through memory itself. Then it opened its eyes—wide, sad, ancient eyes that had seen far too much.

"I am Clown," the fish said softly, voice liquid and melodic. "Please do not disturb the sapling's rhythm… unless you seek to alter the current."

Silver tilted his head. His expression—far too serene. "Ah, Clown… The Fish of Prediction and History. Element of Water. Soother of old wounds and reader of forgotten tides." His voice wove between reverence and mania.

"I see…" Clown blinked slowly. "You are still unmoored, child of echoes. But I will honor your request."

He floated toward Yatsuhashi. The sapling pulsed, and from its roots, tendrils of crystal-clear water rose and wrapped around the wounded warrior. The water shimmered as it sank into Yatsuhashi's skin, his wounds sealing with a soft hiss.

The bull stood silent, watching. Yatsuhashi gasped, coughing as droplets burst from his lips. "I… I feel better. Stronger."

Clown gave a slow, almost ceremonial nod. "I have done as asked. May I return to the root?"

"Yes," Silver whispered. "Return to where memory is still safe."

The fish bowed, dissolved into a stream of light, and flowed back into the sapling, vanishing. "Now, you may face the Trial," said the bull.

Silver turned to the group, his eyes distant and shimmering with strange stars. "Go. Complete your path."

But Coco stepped forward, fists clenched. "That's it?" Her voice was shaking. "That fish… just appears, heals someone, and you talk to it like it's your pet oracle? You're manipulating everything! You twist words, summon gods, and act like it's all a game!"

Silver turned slowly toward her, his expression unreadable. "You're not ready for the answer."

Coco grabbed her weapon. "No. I'm done. We've followed your madness long enough. Say one more riddle, and I swear to the gods I will bury you where you stand."

The cat Mischief watched silently, both tails flicking with interest.

Silver stepped forward, calm. "You want truth? Then stab me. Maybe my blood holds it."

That only enraged her further. Coco raised her weapon, aura flaring. "Coco, stop!" Velvet cried. "He's not all here—he's fractured."

"Exactly," Coco snapped. "And we're all just pieces on his board."

Silver whispered softly, not to anyone, but as if to the sapling itself. "She burns with fury now, good keep it. That means you will survive the next seed."

Coco froze. "What did you say?" she whispered.

"I didn't say it to you," Silver replied, smile twitching strangely. "I said it to the one inside you. You Hide her behind all emotion who your are."

The air shifted—thicker, colder. The sapling pulsed again, as if reacting. The trial was beginning.

As they stepped through the glowing portal, reality unraveled and reformed into something utterly foreign. A coliseum of sorts materialized—a circular field surrounded by a strange patchwork of reinforced wooden planks, beams, Only dirt and sand was in the middle.

In the center stood the bull—massive, yet noticeably smaller than before, its golden fur dimmed, its horns curling with less grandeur. The change wasn't weakness, but intention. It had shrunk to meet Yatsuhashi on equal footing.

Silver stood near the arena's edge beside the ever-flicking-tailed Mischief, Velvet, and Coco.

"This is simple," the bull rumbled, its voice vibrating through the planks. "Analyze me. Find my truth. Stop me from my own charge. I will give you three clues."

It raised its head, voice echoing like a chant. "My sin—Wrath. My commandment—No Falsehoods. My action... you must find."

Yatsuhashi stepped forward, eyes narrowed. Walking through the field its blanks only have sand and dirt. He tried to figure out why it had a sturdy wall. "You study the field," the bull noted, approving. "Good. You don't begin by acting… You begin by understanding. Emotion fuels the charge. Can you harness it without letting it consume you?"

Yatsuhashi said nothing—just nodded. His fists clenched. His breath slowed. "I am ready."

The bull snorted, its hooves thudding as it lowered its head. The brown sand shifted again, thickening into slick sludge as part of the arena warped into sand on one side, mud on the other. Red-painted signs were stuck into the ground like warnings, scattered amongst half-sunken boxes and platforms. Some looked recently broken. Others untouched

Then, the bull charging.

Its cry—no longer a mere moo, but a thunderclap of nature's fury—rattled the realm. Yatsuhashi stood his ground, his aura flaring, but as the bull neared, the ground betrayed him. His foot sank into the mud, off setting his balance. The full force of the charge struck his shoulder and flung him backward—into a crate that shattered on impact.

He groaned, coughing up blood, a finger bent at an unnatural angle. "Yatsuhashi!" Coco bolted forward instinctively.

But before she could reach him, Mischieve's tails snaked out, wrapping around her waist, lifting her off the ground like a dangling puppet.

"You mustn't!" the cat warned, its voice suddenly grim. "If you interrupt a soul trial… you may unravel his spirit entirely. Damage done here is not to the flesh—but the essence. He could lose himself."

"What do you mean, his essence?" Coco snapped.

"This isn't the physical world anymore," Silver said quietly. "Your bodies… they don't exist here. Not really."

That stopped her. She hung suspended, watching helplessly as the bull wheeled around again, charge building even more.

"These trials we've faced," Coco hissed, eyes never leaving Yatsuhashi, "they're not just tests… What are they?"

"To determine if you are worthy," Mischief said, "not merely of power—but of perspective. To hold a seed, you must see beyond your world."

Velvet turned to Silver, eyes sharp. "See what, exactly?"

Silver didn't answer at first. Then softly, with that faraway gleam in his eyes, he said, "This world feeds on emotion. It seeks to break the cage of creation—to forge identity, not from the body, but from the soul. These aren't trials to test your strength… They're to reconstruct you. Piece by piece."

Coco's face darkened. "Reconstruct us for what?"

"For a purpose no beast can explain," Silver replied, blinking slowly. "Creation does not yield meaning. It waits for those willing to become it."

"That's not an answer," Velvet whispered.

"It never is… until it chooses you," Mischief added, swaying her tails.

Coco bit her lip, watching Yatsuhashi still struggling to rise, blood mixing with mud. Her fury boiled—but so did her clarity. She looked at Silver. Looked at him differently.

"I hate you," she said. "You and the riddles. You and the manipulation."

Silver didn't flinch. His smile was faint. Quiet. "I'm not the one you're mad at," he said. "Not anymore."

And Coco realized… he wasn't the Flame Swordsman. Not here. Not now. He was something else. And the trial was far from over.

The Bull charged through the muddy ground again. It's charged never stopping sutdding become faster and stronger for the time passing. Its golden eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. Yatsuhashi could feel the charge before it began — the ground rippled, the air trembled. He glanced over his shoulder. The red-marked sign behind him faintly, its surface slick with rain-mixed soil. His boots were already buried ankle-deep in thick mud, refusing to release him.

Each breath was heavier than the last. The Bull lowered its head.

It's coming again. He braced, muscles tightening. But there was a tremble in his stance — not fear, but uncertainty. Nothing felt solid anymore. The ground was a trap, and his strength was being swallowed by it. He dogged last moment dystorying the sign.

Then, from the edge of the field, came a strange chant. "Olay," said Silver softly, almost amused.

Mischief twirled in the air and echoed with a lazy grin, "Olay~"

Coco, trapped above the trial in midair, twisted violently against the binding of the cat's tail. Her arms strained, fists clenched. She screamed — her voice was soundless. Only her expression showed the rage.

Why are they smiling? she thought. Why are they saying that? He's going to die!

But Velvet—still grounded, still watching—felt something else. The Bull's emotions weren't rage is was focus. Beneath its armored hide, she sensed a rhythm. Like a dance. An ancient one. Rage wasn't its body, but the core? The core was movement. Not destruction… motion.

Then it came. The Bull charged back in his direction.

Yatsuhashi didn't run. He moved.

His body dipped into a sidestep, arms light, muscles loose. As the beast thundered past, he shouted from his gut — not a war cry, but a breath, sharp and focused. His hand brushed the Bull's golden nose ring.

And something clicked. Mischieve's tails began to sway like metronomes. Her head bobbed rhythmically.

A strange, off-beat hum escaped her throat. "We're no strangers to love..."

Velvet blinked. "What?"

Silver was next, voice hollow but deliberate: You know the rules... and so do I..."

The words didn't match the field. They didn't belong in this place of fury and trial. But the rhythm did.

Yatsuhashi felt it — the pulse beneath the Bull's hooves, the pattern in the red signs, the spiraling edges of the arena. Not chaos, but choreography. "Never gonna give you up…"

The Bull charged again — faster. Its roar louder. Yatsuhashi's eyes opened wide. Never give up.

He surged forward. The ground resisted, but he adjusted. His hands reached for the nose ring again—not to stop the Bull, but to guide it. He moved with the beast, not against it. The spiral arena made sense now. The red signs weren't warnings. They were turns.

Each dodge was a step. Each breath a beat.

He led the Bull like a dancer leads a partner — powerful, sweating, bleeding. It wasn't perfect. Twice, he nearly slipped. Once, the Bull's tusk grazed his ribs and tore through his side.

But he kept moving.

The Bull began to falter. Its steps less precise. Its body dipped, nearly collapsing from the weight of its own momentum.

Yatsuhashi reached deep — beyond fear, beyond pain. Not for power. For purpose.

He slammed his hand into the ground. Not magic. Not aura. Just will. The earth responded. A platform rose — uneven, raw, but angled perfectly.

The Bull launched toward him.

He dodged one last time, grabbed the golden ring, and pivoted. The beast turned — too late.

The raised platform struck its front hooves. Mud swallowed its tusks. The Bull tumbled, legs folding. Its body crashed into the muck with the sound of an avalanche.

Yatsuhashi was crushed beneath the final impact. For a moment, the world stilled. Velvet gasped. Coco went still, her eyes wide and wild, her voice still stolen. Mischief held her, gently now, no longer restraining, just watching.

Then the Bull rose. And so did Yatsuhashi. His body shook. Blood matted his shirt. But he stood. Face-to-face with the beast. "I never gave up," he said, voice raw.

The Bull bowed low. "And thus you conquered wrath — not through force… but rhythm." The music stopped. Coco hit the ground. Her voice returned in a single, sharp exhale. She didn't speak.

She didn't need to. The Bull stepped back, the mud beginning to fade. A golden light bathed the arena.

Silver clapped once, then twice. "The charge ends. The spirit rises." And the world returned them to the Spirit Tree.

"So… congratulations on surviving my charge," the Bull said, its massive form towering like a living monument. The deep voice echoed through the misted air of the spirit plane. "You've endured the trial, but it is not yet complete. Tell me, human—what is my Action?"

Yatsuhashi stood, his breath ragged, blood still trickling from his mouth. He looked to the Bull, then down to the broken earth, his mind replaying every second of that charge—every second he held on.

Coco stepped forward, still seething from the restraint placed on her earlier. "The answer is—"

The Bull stomped the ground, shaking the entire area. "YOU WILL NOT INTERRUPT THE TRIAL I HAVE GIVEN!" it roared. Its gaze narrowed on Coco like an ancient god judging a reckless child. "Must we stop you every time? This is sacred!"

Coco faltered, lips tight with fury, but held herself back.

Yatsuhashi lifted a hand to her, then turned back to the Bull. "I know your action," he said calmly. "It's tied to the song, to the rhythm, to the way I had to move with you. It's not force or fear. It's... not giving in."

He took a breath. "Your action is Perseverance. Never yielding. No matter how heavy, how painful. Never gonna give in."

The Bull's eyes glowed a brilliant gold. Its ring shimmered. The storm of its aura, once a suffocating pressure, softened. The beast exhaled like a volcano settling.

"Well said, young warrior."

It stepped forward with reverence now. "Master," it said, turning to Silver, "I know your mind is shattered. I can feel it—echoes and fractures beneath your mind. But I must ask something... I want to give him a seed."

Silver tilted his head, his grin twitching. "Give him your seed, sure. I know you want to. But I don't think he deserves it."

Coco's fury boiled again. She grabbed Silver by the collar, her eyes ablaze. "Enough! I've played along with your games, walked your riddles, survived these twisted trials—but he passed. He earned this! If this beast wants to become his partner, to give him strength—let it!"

Silver didn't flinch. His eyes were glassy, his tone unhinged. "No... no, he can't. Not yet. It would be unbalanced. Four pillars must stand, or none."

The Bull nodded solemnly. "Then let me be the first. I will find three others to stand with me. If I do, may I become part of his soul?"

Silver's expression darkened. He looked at the Bull... then at Yatsuhashi. "Only if he passes the Spirit Assemblies. No marking others. But he will be allowed to create something new—a new person, born from the deepest parts of the soul."

The Bull bowed low. "Then I accept. Yatsuhashi Daichi, member of Team CFVY... I entrust you with my truth."

Yatsuhashi bowed back. "I will fulfill your request."

"I will be your shield," the Bull said, voice like thunder, "and with you, I will charge against these Grimm."

Then the Bull turned, its tusks sliding into two holes in the massive wooden door behind them. With a heavy creak, the tree-shielded gate split open, revealing a path of light and carved wood spiraling upward.

"One more trial awaits," the Bull said. "Your teammate—Fox—has already reached Solomon. He waits. The path he took was... faster."

"What?" Coco snapped. "Fox is with Solomon already? We went the wrong way?!"

The cat let out a snort. Mischief was barely restraining a smirk. "Oh no, you went the right way. If you'd taken his path, you would have died."

"YOU made sure he fell!" Coco shouted, pointing at the cat.

"Yes," Mischief said simply. His multicolored eyes held no regret. "I pushed him. Because I saw what he needed. He almost died—but he lived. And now... he recovers. Under the one who created the tree."

Silver's body trembled now. His words were fragmenting. "Time... is splitting. We have to go. Solomon... and his wife... they can't wait much longer."

Velvet put a hand on Coco's arm. "We promised Silver we'd help save the White Fang. We have to go."

Coco clenched her fists, then nodded with restrained anger. "Damn it... Fine. Let's move."

Mischief began leading them down the winding staircase revealed by the gate. But he stopped, his tails flicking nervously. "Velvet... it's your turn," he said, softer than before.

Velvet looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"You... must face the next trial. Alone."

Coco stepped forward. "No way. She's not doing this on her own—"

"No," the cat interrupted. "Only she can. She is... innocent. Bullied, quiet. She was born of kindness. That is the cost."

"What kind of trial?" asked Velvet.

"A trial of light," Mischief said gravely. "Yata and Coco—you faced the dark. But hers... hers will be harder."

"Why?" Coco demanded. "Why is light harder?"

"Because it doesn't break the soul," Mischief whispered. "It breaks the spirit. The dark consumes. But the light erases."

Velvet's ears twitched. Her chest tightened. Mischief didn't look at her when he said the next part.

"Of all the futures I've seen... Velvet, you only have one that ends in success." Silver stood quietly beside him, no longer smiling. His voice, at last, was stable.

"Then we walk it carefully." said Coco.

As they ascended the winding staircase, Silver led the group, blade in hand, its ghost-silver edge humming faintly. The air around him had grown heavier. He turned, offering his hand toward Coco.

Coco raised a brow. "What... why are you offering me your hand?"

He didn't answer. He just kept it there, extended, unmoving—his gaze locked on hers with an unreadable expression.

"Fine, I will," she smiled, taking it.

Silver's eyes flicked to Yatsuhashi—locking for a moment, silently asking something unspoken.

"Oh! Right, hold hands," said Yatsuhashi, catching the look.

"I'll meet you up there. I can squeeze through small spaces," said Mischief with a lazy wave of his tail, before darting off into an arched tunnel that only a large cat could fit through.

They continued upward, hand in hand, Velvet trailing just behind. "Remember what he said," Silver whispered, voice quieter than before. "The light doesn't burn you. It erases you. It takes and builds what it wants."

He turned to Velvet, face cracked with a trembling smile, and tears suddenly welled in his eyes. "Silver?" Coco asked, startled. "Why are you crying?"

Then they felt it. A pulse—like a ripple in reality. Silver stabbed his twin-blade into the stone beneath them. The staircase shifted, flattening into a solid plane. Below them: an endless abyss. He held the blade upright, arms straining, like it was the last thing tethering them to this realm.

He reached for Coco again. "Grab it," he said, voice calm despite the tears.

She did. Everyone grabbed the hilt, holding tight.

"So... how long until the stairs return to normal?" Coco asked, suspicion rising.

Silver didn't answer. He only looked at velvet—really looked at her—and then, with a sudden motion, kicked her hard in the stomach. Velvet gasped, eyes wide. Coco jump backward. Silver caught her wrist, holding her suspended for a heartbeat. He looked into her eyes and whispered: "I'm sorry."

Then he let go. She vanished into the abyss, her scream swallowed by the silence. The stairs shifted back to their original form. The pathway was restored. But the air was different—thicker. Tense.

"You sick son of a bitch!" Yatsuhashi roared, punching Silver square in the jaw. He tumbled, slamming into the stone stairwell, blade clattering beside him.

"I did what was needed," Silver rasped, wiping blood from his mouth. "We have to keep moving."

"No," Coco growled, stepping forward, fury shaking her voice. "You've led us through your twisted riddles. You've used us—trained us. And now you're just tossing us into the dark, one by one."

Silver turned slowly. "If these beasts escape into Remnant, they'll wipe out everything—Grimm, humans, Faunus. Everything. I didn't bring you here to test you. I brought you here because you were the only ones who could survive it."

"Hey..." Yatsuhashi whispered. "His hair…"

Three-quarters of Silver's hair had turned—white streaks mixing with brown, dirty-blonde vanishing. The transformation was accelerating.

"What happens when your hair changes fully?" Yatsuhashi asked.

Silver's voice was hollow. "When it turns green… I die. Jimmy's soul dies. I'm all that's left—an echo, built on fragments."

Coco's eyes burned. "Then maybe you should die. You just killed Velvet!"

"No!" Yatsuhashi cut in. "He's not trying to kill us—he's shaping us. He threw me into that trial. It broke me... but it made me stronger."

"He kicked her into an abyss," Coco spat.

"No," Silver said quietly, "I kicked her into another world. One where she can always win. One where she's not..." He hesitated. "...Not a disappointment."

That was it. Coco snapped.

She shoved him, hard, slamming him against the edge of the stairway, hand on her hip. "Give me one reason not to end this right now."

Silver didn't flinch. "Because if I die here, you lose more than your ride home. You lose your entire world. I'm the anchor holding this path to the physical realm. Kill me here, and everything we've done collapses. The trials end. The war begins—with no one left to stop it."

Coco stared at him, breathing hard. "You brought us here," she whispered. "To complete these trials... but also to replace you."

Her voice cracked. "You're not Jimmy. You're not even real."

Silver looked back at her, eyes empty. "I'm everything... and nothing. I am an echo. Of the one who sealed creation."

Yatsuhashi blinked. "Wait... What does that mean?"

"My soul's gone. Jimmy's is fading. I can't take these trials... because I no longer exist the way you do. I'm here to guide you. Through games. Through riddles. Through cryptic lies. Because that's all I have left."

"Then why not Velvet?" Coco demanded.

"Because the light doesn't accept cryptic messengers. Light demands clarity. Spirit demands truth. And only someone who has suffered quietly... who has endured alone... can face that."

Silver turned, tired now. "This game is done."

With the blunt end of his blade, he struck her hand, cutting it just enough to make her let go. Banged her head to make her uncoince. Then, gently, he caught her as she collapsed unconscious. "Take her," he said. "She'll be fine."

Yatsuhashi slung her gently over his shoulder. "I'm sorry," Silver said again. "But he's right. We need hope."

They walked in silence, the stairs winding toward a distant light. Silver looked back once—not at Coco, but at the place where Velvet had vanished.

A whisper escaped his lips. "Sorry."

A Beacon of Hope in Ruins

Velvet Scarlatina stood amid the shattered remnants of Beacon Academy, the air heavy with smoke and hope. Sunlight pierced through drifting dust, illuminating her and Coco Adel as they surveyed what once was the courtyard. The great tower had fallen, leaving behind a jagged silhouette against the sky, but survivors were gathering around the two huntresses as if they were a beacon themselves. We did it... we saved them, Velvet thought, chest swelling with cautious pride. Yet even as a weary smile graced her face, her long rabbit ears twitched back and forth uneasily. Something was missing.

Panting from exertion, Velvet exchanged a glance with Coco. Her team leader's stylish goggles were scuffed, and her usually immaculate bob of hair was dusted with ash, but Coco was grinning confidently. "Another job well done, Velvet," Coco said, clapping Velvet on the shoulder. The gesture felt warm, validating. A few civilians emerged from behind overturned tables and rubble, offering timid thanks. One little girl even ran up to hug Velvet's legs, and Coco chuckled. For a moment Velvet allowed herself to bask in the ideal image: Beacon had fallen, yes, but she was still here—she was a hero, bringing hope alongside Coco.

But that nagging feeling would not relent. Velvet gently pried the child off and scanned the area. Fox and Yatsuhashi, her other teammates, stood a short distance away, keeping watch for any lingering Grimm. Everything seemed right... except it wasn't. Velvet's brow furrowed. In the back of her mind she felt the absence of three figures who should have been at her side: Ranger, Jane, and the Flameswordsman. Their names echoed in her memory with growing insistence. Only emptiness answered her unspoken question.

Velvet turned to Coco, ears lowering slightly. "Have you seen Ranger or Jane?" she asked quietly, as if afraid the names might shatter this fragile peace. Her own voice sounded strangely muffled in her ears. Coco raised an eyebrow behind her orange-tinted shades. For a heartbeat, Velvet thought she saw confusion flicker across Coco's face—there and gone again, replaced by a reassuring smile.

"Focus, bunny." Coco used Velvet's nickname lightly, but there was an odd echo to her voice. She squeezed Velvet's shoulder. "It's just us and the team now. We need to keep moving."

Velvet opened her mouth, the protest on her tongue—But they were here. The certainty of that fact wavered in her mind like a distant dream. She could picture Ranger's confident stance, Jane's bright smile, the Flameswordsman's sword blazing through the dark... They had been with her, hadn't they? Why couldn't she recall exactly when she last saw them? Velvet felt a chill skitter down her spine despite the warm afternoon sun. She swallowed hard and nodded to Coco, deciding to stay silent for now. Perhaps they were separated in the battle. She would find them later. This is fine, she insisted to herself, rubbing her arms as if cold. Everything is fine.

Cracks in the Dream

Together, Team CFVY pressed onward through Beacon's ruined courtyards and halls, checking for survivors and stray Grimm. The world around Velvet still held a golden haze of triumph, but that haze began to thin. Every so often she caught something in the corner of her eye—a flicker in the sunlight, a shift in the shadows—that made her ears twitch in alarm. Each time she turned, there was nothing amiss: just broken columns, drifting embers, the distant caw of a bird. Get a grip, she chided herself. You're jumpy from the fight.

They entered what had once been the dining hall. The long tables were overturned and charred, the banners of Beacon torn and hanging askew. Fox Alistair moved ahead silently, his keen senses on alert, while Yatsuhashi Daichi lifted debris with ease, clearing a path. As Velvet stepped over a cracked section of tile, a soft sound caught her attention—a faint whimper echoing from behind the serving counter. She froze, ears perked high. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.

Coco nodded, already hefting her minigun. Velvet darted around the counter, heart pounding. Curled against the wall was a familiar figure in white. Weiss Schnee sat slumped on the floor, her normally immaculate ivory battle-dress torn and stained with blood. She was clutching her side, where crimson seeped between her gloved fingers. "Weiss!" Velvet gasped.

Weiss's head jerked up. Her pale face was smeared with dirt and pain, and her eyes—usually so composed—were glassy with tears. "Velvet...?" she murmured, voice barely audible. "It hurts..." Weiss's other hand pressed against the wall as she tried to stand, only to collapse back with a choked cry.

Velvet was at her side in an instant, gently supporting Weiss. The other girl's body trembled violently. This wasn't right—Weiss Schnee was one of the strongest people Velvet knew, a proud huntress who rarely showed pain. Seeing her like this twisted Velvet's stomach. "It's okay, I've got you," Velvet soothed, though her own voice shook. She glanced over her shoulder. "Coco! I need a first aid kit, now!"

Coco rushed over, Fox close behind. As Coco rifled through her pack, Velvet tried to examine Weiss's injury with trembling hands. The wound was deep, too deep—almost as if Weiss had been impaled by something. Velvet's mind flashed images unbidden: Weiss struck through the abdomen by a lance of ice... or was it a spear of Grimm? The vision was so vivid she recoiled. Weiss had never suffered such an injury at Beacon, had she? A memory surfaced of Weiss in a different battle, in a different place, crying out as a blade of pure energy ran her through. But that happened long after Beacon fell... How do I know that? Velvet's thoughts stumbled. Weiss let out another broken sob, snapping Velvet back.

"It's going to be okay," Velvet said, forcing confidence into her tone. She pressed a folded cloth to Weiss's wound as Coco handed over a small green vial of healing fluid. Velvet poured it over the gash; Weiss's aura flickered weakly, trying to seal the injury. Weiss grit her teeth, a fresh wave of pain washing over her face. "It h-hurts... Father... please..." Weiss mumbled deliriously. Her words rang strangely in Velvet's ears, like lines from a play slightly out of order.

Velvet's heart ached at the sight of her friend so fragile, but beneath that was mounting unease. This feels wrong. She had expected Weiss to be grateful or determined, not whispering for her distant father. Was he even here? He shouldn't be. None of this should be. Velvet looked at Coco for reassurance. Coco was kneeling on Weiss's other side, expression calm and oddly blank, as if tending to a routine training injury. "She'll be fine," Coco said coolly, patting Weiss's shoulder almost mechanically. "Just fine."

Weiss suddenly grabbed Velvet's wrist with surprising strength. "Where's... Yang?" she forced out, blue eyes boring into Velvet's. "She was right here... I saw her... I—" Weiss winced, her head lolling as exhaustion overtook her once more. Velvet felt a jolt of panic. Yang Xiao Long? Yang had left Beacon with Ruby and the others after the fall; she wasn't supposed to be here at all. Weiss's question hung in the air, and none of them had an answer.

A hairline crack of doubt splintered through Velvet's reality. She gently laid Weiss back as the heiress fell unconscious, then rose to her feet, breathing hard. Her surroundings swam for an instant, the edges of the room blurring. This is an illusion, a quiet thought crept in, but Velvet shook it off. She couldn't afford to lose focus now. Weiss needed help. They would find Yang later... somehow.

Yatsuhashi lifted Weiss's limp form with care. "We'll bring her to the infirmary," he said. His deep voice echoed strangely in the ruined hall, each word slightly delayed. Velvet's ears flattened. There was no infirmary anymore—Beacon's medical wing had been destroyed. And Yatsu spoke as if nothing unusual was happening.

As they moved out, carrying Weiss through the rubble-strewn corridors, Velvet noticed Fox hanging back. The usually stoic man was frowning, one hand to his temple as if hearing something inaudible. Velvet sidled closer to him. "Fox? Is everything okay?" she whispered.

Fox rarely spoke even to his teammates, preferring to communicate mind-to-mind or with gestures. But now he turned toward Velvet with a troubled look. When he answered, it wasn't his lips that moved, but his voice sounded clearly in Velvet's head: They're trying to reach you. Velvet blinked in confusion. Before she could respond, Coco called for them to keep up. Fox touched Velvet's arm gently, his gloved hand warm against her skin, then moved ahead without another word.

Velvet's skin prickled where Fox had touched her. His cryptic words echoed in her mind. They're trying to reach you. Who? Ranger and Jane? Had her missing friends somehow been calling out to her through this haze? Or was it someone else? Her breath caught as a new possibility struck like lightning: the Spirit Seeds. Was this entire world a fabrication of those seeds, drawn from fragments of the true RWBY world she knew? It would explain the inconsistencies, the haze over her memory. The realization was terrifying, yet a small part of her felt a surge of relief—perhaps she hadn't lost her sanity after all. Perhaps this really wasn't real.

Velvet swallowed, her mouth dry. She had to be sure. As the group reached a stairwell landing, Velvet suddenly stopped in her tracks. "Coco, something isn't right," she began, voice trembling despite her effort to sound firm. The others halted. Yatsuhashi shifted Weiss's weight in his arms; Coco turned to face Velvet fully, brow furrowing; and Blake Belladonna—Velvet only now noticed Blake had joined them, seemingly out of nowhere—also paused on the steps, her expression tense.

"What do you mean, Velv?" Coco asked. Her tone was gentle, but that underlying echo was still there, like two voices speaking slightly out of sync.

Velvet opened her palms, trying to steady herself. "This... all of this. Beacon, Weiss, everything. It doesn't make sense," she insisted, eyes darting from one teammate to another. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. "Think about it—Weiss shouldn't be here. Yang is gone, the infirmary is gone. And where are Ranger and Jane? Where is the Flameswordsman who was fighting with us?!" Her voice rose with each word until she was nearly shouting. The corridor carried her words in strange ways, the echoes overlapping into a chorus of her own doubt.

For a moment, no one answered. Blake stepped forward, biting her lip. Velvet noticed how Blake's bow—pristine atop her head—hid her cat ears, a habit Blake had long since abandoned around her friends. Blake reached out as if to calm Velvet. "Velvet, I..." Blake hesitated, golden eyes full of guilt. "There's something I need to tell you."

Coco shot Blake a warning look, but Blake pressed on, voice wavering with emotion. "Back at Beacon, before everything happened... I lied to all of you. I– I used to be part of the White Fang." The confession tumbled out, raw and rushed. "I never told most of my friends here, but I was with them... I left when they turned violent, but it's my past." Blake's words hung in the air like a blade. Her shoulders trembled as she forced herself to meet Velvet's eyes.

Velvet felt the floor tilt beneath her feet. Blake... was White Fang? The very name made Velvet recall the masked marauders who had allied with cinder to attack Beacon—the ones who helped unleash Grimm into the school grounds, who terrorized innocents. 'How did i know that. This hasnt happened yet' Her own memories of that night flashed: the rallying cries of White Fang agents, the fires and screams, her own fear as she fought to protect fleeing students. Blake had been one of them? Velvet's legs went weak. "How... could you?" she whispered, voice strangled, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She wasn't sure if she was asking Blake or the world itself.

"I'm so sorry," Blake pleaded, reaching for Velvet's hand. "I never wanted any of you to be hurt by them. I never wanted you to find out like this." Velvet jerked her hand away as if burned, a storm of betrayal and confusion coursing through her. It felt real—Blake's regret, the sting of revelation. Too real. Yet some distant part of Velvet's mind screamed that this moment already happened, long ago, in a different context. Why was she hearing it now, as if it were new?

Coco frowned, stepping between them. "Blake, this isn't the time," she admonished sharply. But Velvet caught the briefest flash of something in Coco's eyes—was it relief? Almost as if Coco was glad Blake had diverted Velvet's line of questioning. It was all wrong. Coco would never gloss over something so important; she'd demand honesty on her team. And Blake… Blake's secret was known to her true friends ages ago. This felt staged, like a scene playing out for Velvet's benefit.

Velvet's hands balled into fists. The edges of her vision shimmered. She could feel it now: the entire world quivering like a delicate soap bubble around her, on the verge of popping. Her friends, her heroism—was any of it real? "Stop it," she said, voice low and shaking. The corridor lights flickered overhead. Fox and Yatsuhashi exchanged worried glances, their forms wavering like reflections on water. Velvet raised her voice, a ragged plea ripping from her throat. "Whoever is doing this, stop it! I know this isn't real!"

Her shout echoed interminably down the hallway, multiplying into a cacophony that made her ears ring. Velvet pressed her palms to her head, squeezing her eyes shut as dizziness washed over her. Please, let this stop. Her heart thundered against her ribs as panic and anger warred within her. When she opened her eyes again, the scene around her had changed.

Dread Unveiled in the Cafeteria

Silence. Velvet found herself standing in Beacon's cafeteria, suddenly and impossibly alone. Just moments ago she had been surrounded by her team and friends; now the expansive dining hall was deserted. The transition was so jarring that for a second Velvet wondered if she had blacked out or teleported. The cafeteria was eerily pristine—sunlit, tables and chairs neatly in place, the comforting scent of fresh bread wafting from the kitchen. It was as if Beacon had never fallen, as if it were a normal school day before the darkness came. That normalcy made it all the more wrong.

Velvet's footsteps echoed as she stepped forward between the rows of identical tables. Her breathing was shallow, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. Too quiet. Beacon's cafeteria was never this quiet, even after hours; she remembered it filled with laughter, clattering dishes, the buzz of student chatter. Now there was nothing but the tap of her boots and the rasp of her breath.

She reached one of the long tables and grazed her fingers along its polished surface. No dust, no blood, no sign of the battle that had reduced the school to rubble. A half-empty coffee mug sat on the table, still steaming. Velvet stared at it, dread coiling in her stomach. "Hello?" she called softly. Her voice bounced off the high ceiling. No answer. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting benign squares on the tiled floor. It looked so peaceful... and that peace made her skin crawl.

Suddenly, a single discordant sound broke the hush: a slow, mocking clap. Velvet whirled around. At the far end of the cafeteria, a figure was lounging against the double doors, clapping lazily. He stepped forward, boots clicking on the tiles. Velvet's heart went cold. She recognized the stocky build, the sneering mouth, the crop of orange hair—Cardin Winchester, the onetime Beacon bully. His cruel grin was exactly as she remembered.

"Well, well, look at the little hero now," Cardin drawled, spreading his arms in a grand, derisive welcome. Velvet instinctively backed away, her pulse spiking. Cardin had tormented her in the past for being a Faunus, but he couldn't be here now. And yet here he was, as real as life, dark eyes glinting with amusement.

"This... you're not real," Velvet stammered, voice barely above a whisper. Her rabbit ears flattened against her skull as fear flooded through her. Cardin only chuckled. He sauntered closer, kicking casually at a stray chair which toppled over with a harsh clang. Velvet flinched at the sudden noise.

"Not real? Then what are you so afraid of, bunny?" Cardin sneered. That hated nickname—bunny—dripped from his tongue with the same cruel contempt as when he'd used it to taunt her for her heritage. Velvet's mind flashed to that memory of him cornering her in the hall during second year, yanking painfully on her long ears while his teammates laughed. A hot mix of shame and anger prickled through her now, just as it had then.

"You always were pathetic," Cardin continued, circling her slowly like a predator. Velvet turned as he moved, refusing to let him out of her sight. "Playing at being a hero. Did you actually believe all that?" He gestured broadly at the empty air. For an instant, the cafeteria around them flickered with ghostly images—Velvet and Coco fighting side by side, villagers reaching out to thank her, Weiss smiling up at her in gratitude. All her recent triumphs flashed around her like scenes on a movie screen, then vanished as quickly as they came. Cardin let out a barking laugh. "That was the dream you wanted, wasn't it? Poor Velvet Scarlatina, the big damn hero." His lip curled in disgust. "What a joke."

Velvet felt hot shame wash over her. It had felt so good, so right, saving everyone... and she had wanted so badly to believe it. Now, under Cardin's scorn, it all felt like foolish vanity. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. "I-I did what I had to," she whispered, not sure if she was defending her actions in the illusion or in reality. "We saved people. We made a difference."

Cardin snorted. "Saved people? In this make-believe world, sure." He took another step closer; he was only an arm's length away now, towering over her just as he used to. She could see the cruel delight dancing in his eyes as she trembled. "Meanwhile, out in the real world, you're probably just lying on the ground somewhere, useless, while your friends fight without you. Some hero."

Velvet's resolve faltered. She trembled, wanting to deny it, to argue back, but the words died in her throat. His claim slithered into her mind, feeding her deepest fear: What if he's right? What if she was helpless right now, failing the very people who needed her? The thought made her chest tighten until she could barely breathe.

Cardin leaned down, bringing his face so close she could smell the rancid hint of cigarette smoke on his breath. "Face it," he hissed, "you're weak. You were too weak to protect Beacon, and now you're too weak to even face reality." His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "You believed in this pretty little lie because the truth is, you're nothing without it."

The tears Velvet had been holding back spilled over, hot on her cheeks. She shook her head desperately. "N-no... that's not true. That hasnt happened yet i can change it," she managed to choke out, but even to her own ears it sounded unconvincing.

Cardin straightened, looming over her as the sunlight in the cafeteria dimmed to a dull grey. The room seemed to darken with his every word, shadows lengthening across the walls. He regarded her with a twisted grin, relishing her distress. "Oh? Did I strike a nerve? Poor, sensitive animal," he mocked, tossing the cruel slur at her like a dart. "Cry all you want. It won't change what you are." He began to chuckle, low in his chest, and that chuckle grew into a laugh—sharp and jeering, echoing through the empty hall.

To Velvet's horror, the laughter didn't come from Cardin alone. It multiplied and spread, resonating from all around her. She spun around and saw dim figures seated at the tables that had been empty moments before. Faces emerged in the shadows, half-formed and flickering. Students she recognized—some from her classes, some upperclassmen—stared at her with eerie, vacant smiles. Their eyes were glassy and dead, their mouths stretched in laughter. She caught sight of one of Cardin's old teammates pounding a fist on a table as he guffawed; a girl from the tournament team NDGO covering her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter; even an image of Coco sat at a distant table, arms crossed, lips curled in a sad, disappointed grin. All of them were laughing at her.

The sound swelled, dozens of voices rising in a distorted chorus of ridicule. Velvet clamped her hands over her ears, panic surging. "Stop it!" she cried, voice cracking through her sobs. But the laughter only grew louder, a cacophony of scorn that drowned out her pleas. Her heart was hammering so hard it hurt, and her vision blurred with tears. It's not real, it's not real! she told herself, squeezing her eyes shut, but the relentless mockery made it so hard to hold on to that thought.

Through the haze of humiliation and dread, a new figure stepped out from behind the serving counter at the front of the room. The chorus of laughter fell to a murmur, as if whatever controlled these phantoms knew something more devastating was coming. Velvet wiped her eyes frantically, blinking to clear her vision. A woman was approaching slowly, calmly, with familiar grace. Velvet's breath caught in her throat. It was her mother.

"Mom?" Velvet whispered. Her mother's presence here was impossibility piled atop impossibility. Meg Scarlatina looked just as Velvet remembered: kind brown eyes, a flour-dusted apron from long days working in their family shop, gentle hands folded nervously before her. She approached Velvet with a tender smile that, for a split second, made Velvet's heart lift with false hope. In that moment Velvet wanted to believe this was real, that somehow her mother was truly here to rescue her from the nightmare. But when Meg spoke, her voice carried a soft sorrow that cut deeper than any blade.

"Oh, Velvet," her mother sighed, shaking her head slightly. "My sweet girl... what are you doing here?" Meg reached out and brushed a tear from Velvet's cheek with her thumb. Her touch was warm and achingly familiar. Velvet leaned into it without thinking, a sob hitching in her chest. "Mom, I—" she began, her voice small and broken. She wanted to explain, to justify: I'm a huntress. I'm trying to save everyone. I'm doing my best...

Meg shushed her gently, one calloused finger pressed to Velvet's lips. "Honey, it's time to come home," she said, as if coaxing a frightened child. Cupping Velvet's face in both hands, she spoke slowly, soothingly. "You don't belong here playing hero. You never did."

Velvet's eyes widened, a bolt of pain lancing through her at those words. "W-what?" she stammered. Behind her mother, the shadowy figures of Cardin and the others watched in expectant silence, their laughter temporarily ceased.

Meg's thumbs stroked Velvet's wet cheeks, catching the tears. "You tried, and that's what matters," her mother cooed, a gentle smile on her lips. "But Beacon fell, dear. It fell, and nothing you do can change that. Come back to the shop with me. We'll go home and get you out of these torn-up clothes, and you can help me mind the shop, just like before." Meg tilted her head, eyes shining with kindness and pity. "You're not a huntress, Velvet. You'll always be my daughter, and that's enough."

Each word hit Velvet like a physical blow. Her mother had always supported her dream to attend Beacon... hadn't she? Doubt oozed into Velvet's mind like dark ink, poisoning the memory. Maybe Mom was always afraid for me, a traitorous thought whispered. Maybe she never believed I could do it. Velvet's knees buckled, and she sagged in her mother's comforting hold. This was her mom, telling her to give up the fight—telling her it was okay to quit, to go back to a safe, ordinary life. And a huge part of Velvet wanted to. She was so tired of being scared, of being not enough.

Velvet tried to speak, but a sob choked her. "No... I..." She could barely form words through the lump in her throat. Finally, in a trembling whimper, she managed to protest, "I am a huntress. I can help people..." It was an echo of what she'd told herself a thousand times, but now it sounded fragile and childish.

Meg's expression grew sadder, pitying. "No, darling. That was just a dream," her mother whispered. "A mother knows her little girl, and my little girl belongs with her family, safe." She gently turned Velvet's chin up to make her meet her eyes. "Please, come. Let's go home."

Velvet stared at the hand her mother now offered—steady, familiar, promising comfort. Her vision swam with tears. Deep down, she was still a little girl who missed home, who missed safety. The temptation to take that hand and leave this nightmare behind was overwhelming. Velvet's fingers twitched, starting to rise toward her mother's.

But behind her mother, the cafeteria lights began to flicker madly, bright sunlight giving way to staccato flashes of twilight. The corners of the room were darkening, as if a black void was seeping in. A low rumble coursed through the floor, rattling the neatly arranged chairs and causing the watching faces to jitter like broken holograms. The illusion was collapsing under the weight of Velvet's despair. Cardin's form wavered, his triumphant grin blinking in and out; the rows of phantom students shuddered, their laughter replaced by distorted, warbling echoes.

Through the encroaching darkness, Velvet looked into her mother's eyes one last time. They were warm brown—the same shade as Velvet's own—but now they reflected only a quiet resignation. This isn't real. The thought rang clear and final in Velvet's mind. These were not her friends, not her tormentors, not even her true mother—they were phantoms, puppets dancing on the strings of the Spirit Seeds' power. And she was done being their toy.

Velvet drew a shuddering breath, straightening up. Though her body quaked with fear and heartbreak, a spark of defiance kindled within her chest. She stepped back, pulling free of her mother's hands. "No," she said, her voice soft but firm.

Meg's face faltered, confusion marbling her gentle features. Velvet's tears still flowed, but now they were fueled as much by anger as sorrow. She clenched her fists at her sides. "This is not enough. I am enough," Velvet declared, her voice growing stronger with each word.

Her mother opened her mouth to respond, but Velvet pressed on, shaking her head. "I'm a Huntress," she said—louder, steadier. "Maybe I failed. Maybe I'm scared. But I won't give up on who I am. Not for you, not for anyone." Her words reverberated in the trembling air.

The cafeteria began to collapse into shadow. Meg reached out as if to grab Velvet again, but her form was flickering, the edges of her body breaking into glowing cinders. "Velvet, please—" her mother implored, her voice warping with static. The rumbling grew to a roar, drowning out whatever she tried to say next.

With a snarl of fury, Cardin lunged toward Velvet one last time, his face contorted with rage. "You ungrateful freak!" he howled, arm outstretched as if to strike her. Velvet braced herself—but he never reached her. With a deafening crack, his entire form shattered into a cloud of black petals, which swirled away into the encroaching darkness. One by one, the other laughing faces winked out like dying stars, their taunts strangled into silence.

Velvet stood in the center of the cafeteria, panting, as everything fell apart around her. The walls crumbled into nothingness, revealing an infinite void beyond. The tiled floor beneath her splintered and began to drop away into darkness, piece by piece. Only the spot where she stood remained, a tiny island in a sea of black. Her mother's figure was the last to remain, eyes full of tears. Meg gave her daughter one final, sorrowful smile. Over the cacophony, Velvet heard her mother's fading voice whisper, "No matter what... you'll always be my little girl..."

"Mom!" Velvet cried out, heart twisting—whether from longing or relief, even she couldn't tell. But Meg Scarlatina was already dissolving into motes of light, her final words echoing and mixing with the roar of the collapse.

Velvet closed her eyes against a fresh surge of tears and screamed—an agonized, cathartic scream that ripped from her very soul. It echoed into the void as the last remnants of the false world shattered. The ground disappeared from under her, and she felt herself falling, plummeting through the darkness and despair, leaving the dream—no, the nightmare—possible futures. The illusion had finally unraveled, and Velvet tumbled away, back toward the harsh light of truth as the mirage of Beacon faded to black.

"You should wake up," said a soothing voice, so calm it felt like a lullaby. Velvet's eyes snapped open like she'd been thrown from a nightmare—no... from a dream collapsing under its own weight.

Her heart pounded as she sat up too quickly. "Easy, don't move just yet," said a warm voice. It belonged to Fox, who sat beside her. His expression—tired, strained—held something deeper. Like he'd been watching her cry for hours.

"You were screaming… I couldn't reach you. I had to wait until the trial was over."

Behind him stood two figures—strange and ethereal. One a radiant white rabbit cloaked in a long veil of illusions, her eyes reflective pools of serenity. The other, a nine-tailed fox with fur like sun-warmed stone and a soft glow in its chest.

"Hello," said the rabbit, her voice gentle. "I am the Rabbit of Illusions."

"And I," said the fox, bowing slightly, "am the Fox of Prayer."

Velvet's voice cracked. "Jane..."

Fox stepped closer. "Jane…? You mentioned her while in the trial. You spoke of her like she was the future… the hope of the Faunus."

Velvet lunged into his arms, hugging him. "You're real. You're real…"

"I'm sorry I had to put your mind through that," said a familiar voice—Mischief, the black cat, now perched nearby. "But you passed. With flying colors."

Velvet pulled away slowly, dazed. "So… it was all fake?"

"No," said the Rabbit of Illusions, "but not fake either. A dream built from you. The Spirit Seeds shaped it using remnants of what you knew—RWBY, Beacon, Ranger, Jane… even the hope you held. You shaped it too. But it wasn't meant to last. We even called the future to create a perfect senoiro."

Mischief padded closer. "We were watching. The master's plan required it. And now…" The cat smiled wide. "The master is proud. We'll take you both—Rabbit of Illusions and Fox of Prayer—up the tree."

They ran swiftly through branches carved by memory and power until they arrived back at the summit.

Coco was still unconscious, laid against a door before solomon.

"We've gathered them," Silver said, standing near the top. "The four keys. One of Leadership," he looked at Coco, "One of Faith," his eyes passed over Fox. "One of Conviction," Yatsuhashi Daichi nodded. "And one of Mind."

Velvet met his gaze and nodded once. "These are the keys to open the true temple," he said.

"Now wake her up."

Coco stirred, groaning. "You're okay…? Velvet?"

"I'm here," Velvet smiled gently, offering her a hand.

"We don't have time," said Silver. "Touch the door. All of you."

They did. A low wooden creak groaned out as the tree split open like parting bark—revealing a chamber with two thrones.

A man sat in one, his robes a mixture of scroll and dust. His eyes were heavy with forgotten tomes. "I am Solomon," he said, "but there's no time for grand titles."

Beside him sat a woman with hair of ivy and skin wrapped in soft green fabric like forest silk. "My husband is right," she said. "The balance is tipping."

Silver stepped forward. "The seeds are destabilizing. The gate is becoming permanent."

"By creation… what happened to you?" Solomon rose. "You're… you're not whole."

"I'm what's left," Silver whispered. "An echo of the one who sealed Creation. Not him. Not Jimmy. But something in between."

"They'll come for you. They won't be happy." The woman stood.

"No time. They're already moving. If they break free…" Silver trailed off.

Coco stepped forward, her voice sharp. "What's going on? You're talking in riddles again."

Solomon nodded, then spoke solemnly. "He lied to you."

"What?" Velvet's voice cracked.

"Well… not entirely. He told you the Spirit Seeds would purge the Grimm and the darkness and the light. That's true."

"But?" Coco demanded.

"But they would also infect your people. Alter your race. Take hold of what makes you human and Faunus and twist it. Not maliciously, perhaps. But absolutely. They are not just energy. They are evolution."

The ground rumbled. The dinosaur emerged first, flames licking its back. "Finally."

The wolf stepped from the shadows next. "Then we stand together."

The turtle rose slowest of all, its shell gleaming with stars.

"Before we leave again… what do you know?" Solomon asked, his voice low but filled with gravity.

"We don't have time," Coco snapped. Her fists were clenched. "His body's barely holding together."

"He has roughly twenty-two hours," Solomon said calmly, his eyes flickering to Silver. "So yes. We do."

Coco exhaled hard, reluctantly. "We know about the Fall of Beacon. We know what's coming. And… we know about his plan to save the White Fang."

Solomon nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Then you should also know this: it must happen."

"Why?" Coco pressed. "Can't we prepare better? Warn Vale? Change something?"

"No," Solomon said with finality. "Everything you saw must happen. His plan is not one of destruction. It's one of redemption—of souls."

Velvet spoke now, her voice hesitant but firm. "What about Cinder?"

That question made the room pause.

Solomon turned toward her slowly. "What is your plan for her?"

"I… saw things," Velvet replied, watching him carefully. "We don't understand all of it. But if she's our enemy, we should stop her."

"Do not interfere," Solomon said. His voice echoed with command.

The dinosaur beside him growled low. "Do. Not. Interfere."

The force of it nearly buckled their knees. All four of them—Velvet, Coco, Fox, and Yata—felt that primal fear root itself deep in their bones.

"What do you think I represent?" said the turtle, stepping forward now. His voice was quieter, gentler—but it carried weight.

Fox hesitated. "I… don't know."

"I am the Turtle of Protection," the beast answered. "I protect those who are lost. Those who don't even realize they need it."

"Cinder…" the turtle looked at them all, "is not who you think she is. She is walking a razor's edge. She may never see it—but we do. And that is enough."

"Trust us," the silver-furred wolf said softly. "We know the paths."

Coco's voice cracked as she looked away. "Then… I want one thing. If you can do all this—rebuild Vale."

Solomon smiled gently. "That we can do."

"Go," Silver whispered. His voice was strained, far-off. "Go before I lose more of myself."

"He's right," said Mischief, now walking toward the edge of the chamber. "Cat of Tricksters. At your service. I'll take them to the gate."

Solomon turned to Silver one last time. "What do you call yourself… echo of the man who succeeded?"

"Yes," Silver answered, his voice trembling. "Silver. That is what I am."

Solomon nodded once. "Then so be it."

The beasts stepped forward. Their massive forms shimmered—reduced, in an instant, to glowing seeds. Acorns of radiant blue light, one for each person.

"You are the carriers now," the woman said. "Each of you holds a spirit seed. Coco, Solomon is with you. He will remain silent, until the ritual is finished."

Silver turned to Yatsuhashi Daichi. "The seeds are with you now too. You won't be able to mark others, but you will create a new line—a new purpose. One that earns its way. One not inherited, but chosen."

Solomon smiled faintly. "A good system. I like this idea."

Each seed drifted gently into the palms of the four: Coco, Velvet, Fox, and Yatsuhashi. They pulsed once, then dimmed—absorbed into the soul.

"Go," said the woman. Her voice quivered. A tear, like dew from a petal, slid down her cheek. "My husband will protect you."

Silver hesitated. "Tell them… tell them I'm sorry. I had to."

"I understand," the woman said softly. "But remember this, Silver—your happiness may be the price."

He lowered his gaze. "I know."

And when she finally said, "Go," it wasn't a command. It wasn't a warning. It was a farewell.

Once they descended to the first floor, the Bull stood proudly before the ancient exit—its massive frame casting a wide shadow over the roots of the tree. Around its hooves lay three saplings, each glowing faintly with elemental energy.

"Ah ah," Silver muttered, eyeing them with narrowed, exhausted eyes. "You found three. But why them?"

"Because of who he is," the Bull replied solemnly, "and what they represent."

Silver stepped forward, circling the saplings slowly. "One of them is too close to the dark."

"I know," the Bull rumbled, unshaken. "And that's why he must be tested."

With a grim nod, Silver turned to face Yatsuhashi. His voice was heavy—carrying not just exhaustion but gravity. "You must choose to take these beasts into your soul. All four will be linked, but only one will rise at a time. Their spirits will fuse to the weapons you forge."

Yatsuhashi's brow furrowed. "You're asking me to become their vessel… and to share their power with my team?"

Silver didn't blink. "Yes. But the cost is steep."

"What is it?"

"Your mind will never be silent again," Silver said, eyes dull. "They will whisper. Judge. Laugh. Warn. You will carry all of them… and serve me."

"Don't do this!" Coco stepped forward, her voice cracking, fists clenched. "This isn't fair! This isn't your burden!"

Yatsuhashi's voice was soft but firm. "It is—if it means protecting all of you." He took a deep breath and walked to the saplings.

The Bull raised its head and bellowed: "Come forth—Spirit Seeds!"

The earth shook slightly as the first emerged—a three-headed hound, built from molten shadow and ember. It snarled and laughed in sync.

"I am the Cerberus of the Shadows," one head growled. "Born of death, I devour hesitation."

"I see into fear, and I wait where others flee," rumbled another.

"And I bark at the lies we tell ourselves," said the third, almost playfully.

Lightning cracked as the second emerged—a massive eagle, wings spanning wide, feathers glinting with storms.

"I am the Eagal of Storms. I carry the Mystic justice. My sky is for no tyrant."

Then, gentle winds stirred. A silver-white stag stepped forward, its eyes like still ponds. Frost dusted the ground beneath its hooves.

"I am the Stag of Echoes," it whispered. "The memory of all who came before. I grieve so you may carry hope."

"These are the spirits that have chosen you," the Bull intoned. "Each one carries a burden. Each one, a truth."

Silver stepped forward again. "They will bind to you. Only one may awaken at a time—but all four will live in your soul."

"They're warning you," said the eagle, thunder rumbling in its voice. "Spirit seeds do not usually bond this late. If it fails… you die."

"He'll be fine," said one of the hound's heads.

"Probably," the right one snickered.

"I'm just here for the ride," the Middle said with a yawn.

The Stag dipped its antlers. "He empowers others. That is his nature. His soul charges forward even when his body breaks."

The Bull nodded. "You will commune with us over time. Each one awakens through emotion. You must earn our power."

Yatsuhashi stepped forward and bowed. "I understand."

Suddenly, the space changed. The saplings vanished, replaced by four towering stone pillars, each engraved with the beast's symbol.

The Bull's pillar glowed with golden veins of earth. Mountains rippled in its carving as if alive.

The Eagal's pillar was scorched and jagged, with feathers etched in lightning arcs that sparked with every heartbeat.

The Stag's pillar shimmered coldly—its vines etched into silver stone, pulsing with quiet grief and strength.

The Hound's pillar stood crooked but tall. Three snarling heads carved in obsidian, mouths dripping shadow.

The beasts stood atop their pillars. One by one, they spoke.

"I am the Bull. My charge is relentless. You must become the force that breaks walls—but never breaks faith."

"I am the Eagal. I fly toward justice. You must become the storm that liberates."

"I am the Stag. I remember the lost. You must become the echo that helps others grieve and still walk forward."

"I am the Hound. I wait in death's gate. You must become the shield that endures, the silence that punishes lies."

One of the hound's heads chuckled. "But hey—die, and we eat your soul."

Yatsuhashi looked back—Silver stood with Coco's blade across her throat. But he was smiling gently, not cruelly.

"I accept this duty," Yatsuhashi said without hesitation. "If it means I can protect them—I accept it all."

The Bull raised its head. "We shall guide your allies. Our voices are yours now. But we will not control—we will only speak." He started to float above to meet each beast. Yatsuhashi looked back—Silver stood with Coco's blade across her throat. But he was smiling gently, not cruelly.

Coco's eyes widened. "What are you doing?! He's not ready—he could die!"

"Let me go!" she yelled, trying to wrench free.

"No." His voice was calm, but under it was an unnatural stillness, like someone holding back a typhoon. "You'll ruin it. If you interrupt the bond, you'll kill him. Let him stand."

"You're insane! I'm not letting you decide what he lives for!"

"He already did." And then—he let go.

No—he didn't just let go. He threw her back. Gently enough not to hurt, but with enough force to knock her off balance.

Coco tumbled backward, landing hard on the roots of the spirit tree. She looked up, breath caught in her throat—furious, breathless, and terrified.

She wanted to scream. But she couldn't. Because the light had already started. But the blade was on her neck just enough to not allow speech.

Branches of power, one from each spirit beast, pierced into Yatsuhashi's body—his arms, shoulders, and chest—searing with raw emotion. The pulse of their ancient energy surged through him.

And then—he vanished in a flash of radiant, chromatic energy. Coco sat still, her voice roaring inside her, but she couldn't move. Not out of fear—but reverence. It wasn't rage anymore. It was awe.

Then—light. The world vanished. The pillars, the beasts, even the echo of their voices faded. Yatsuhashi floated gently to the ground.

Coco caught Silver, found an opportunity then threw him past her partner, hugging him close. "You idiot… You're okay…"

"I'm fine. But… different." His voice shook slightly.

"They said if you died… they'd eat you," Coco whispered.

"I know." He smiled weakly. "But I think I gave them a reason to wait."

Silver, leaning on his blade, nodded. "Time is moving fast. We don't have long."

"Mischief," Coco called, "can you get us out?"

The black cat spirit standing, licking a paw. "Mmm. You're lucky. I've only seen one other survive a full seed ritual."

"You're not gonna tell us who, are you?" Coco muttered.

"Nope!" Mischief grinned.

"Let's go," Silver said. "We've earned it."

And so they mounted the spirit's back and bolted forward, leaving behind the echo of four ancient beasts who had chosen to whisper in the soul of a man who refused to fall.

The run through the spirit realm felt faster than before—like time itself was speeding up around them.

"Flow… You must know—I will close the gate," Silver muttered, voice thin like smoke from a dying fire.

"What are you talking about now? 'Flow'?" Coco asked, annoyed at yet another vague proclamation. "Flow of what? A river?"

Silver didn't stop. His eyes were twitching again. "Flow is not what we left… it's changed. Not the same."

"We've been gone… what, a day at most?" Velvet asked, glancing toward Coco.

Silver answered immediately, his voice unnervingly sharp for a moment. "Twenty-six hours." Then his tone shifted again, back to fractured thought: "No, no—not hours. Flow. Like a river to an ocean. The pull… the stretch..."

Mischief's ears flicked back as the cat perched on a rock, tail swaying. "His mind is getting worse again. He meant the flow of time, not water. Time moves differently in this place. We might return to Remnant and find hours have passed… or days."

"Wait. You're saying time passed here and time back home… aren't the same?" asked Fox, alarmed.

"Exactly," said Mischief. "Here, time is threadless—like a story half-written. Your world may have kept reading without you."

"Then when we get back…" Yatsuhashi began.

"You may find it's not the same day, not the same hour… maybe not even the same month," Silver said. This time, his voice was eerily calm.

"And the light and darkness?" Velvet asked, concern in her voice.

Silver's pupils shrunk, and his hand twitched on the hilt of his blade. "Stabilizing. Too fast. They're quiet now because they're preparing. Gaining strength. When they act—it'll be final."

"Then we need to move. Our mission must be completed," Coco said firmly.

"But understand," Silver said, slowing his pace, voice low. "Some beasts… may follow. Some may be born into the cracks. Not all spirits stay behind."

"You mean some of these things will enter Remnant?" Coco asked, her voice sharp.

Silver only nodded. "Yes, yes. New animals. Hidden. Forgotten gods of bone and shadow."

Mischief suddenly stopped and turned to look back. Her two tails lifted. "Good luck, Master," she said, her usual playfulness gone. "I hope I see you again. But not too soon."

"Don't be tricked by the world, Mischief," Silver whispered. "Remember your charge."

Then they passed through the final veil of mist and emerged into the webbed forest once more, where shadows hung from trees and moonlight glinted through silken strands.

High above, the great spider watched them from her perch in the canopy. "Master, you've returned," she greeted with reverence. "I will send my kin to guide you. The gate shall close, and the child will return to her home."

"Let one tiny spider remain," Silver said softly. "To live with the children. Quietly. Hidden. A gift for the next age."

"A new species… in the new world," the spider mused. She bowed deeply. Around her, five enormous spiders descended, their black carapaces. They crouched in silence, offering their backs.

"Ugh… Get on," Silver muttered, visibly disturbed. "I hate these things."

Coco blinked. "Wait—you don't like thes creatures?"

"They creep me out," Silver said with a shudder. "Eight eyes. Hairy knees. No thank you."

"You just stood face-to-face with a beast of death, and this is your limit?" Coco rolled her eyes.

They climbed aboard the waiting spiders, which began to skitter through the trees with unnatural grace. As they moved, the webs slowly began to vanish, disintegrating into shimmering threads that vanished on the breeze.

"Time collapses now," Silver whispered, voice distant.

At the gate ahead—woven from roots, light, and old wood—stood a familiar figure.

Professor Oobleck. Waiting. Silently. As if he knew they'd arrive this moment. As if he'd been waiting for much longer than they thought possible.

"I'm glad you're alive. This spider has kept me company," said Oobleck.

"Ohh, another spirit. Seeds the spider of poison, I see," said Silver.

"Why yes, Master. I was called to help this man. We talk about philosophy," said the spider, curling gently around Oobleck's shoulder.

"You should be cautious—he's poisonous, you know. Brown is one thing, but you should know... corruption. They seek to change those they see. Be wary of what he says, as you should rest," said Silver.

"Master, my kin and I will be heading back. One child will stay," said the spider and quietly walked out.

"We must go. How long did we float?" asked Silver.

"Float? Ohh, you mean how long you were gone. About a week and a half," said Oobleck.

"What? We were in there for... how many hours, Silver?" asked Coco.

"Twenty-eight hours," Silver answered.

"Damn. Time flows different. All right," Coco muttered.

Silver looked up, eyes suddenly wide. "Oh no, no—we need the Flame Swordsman back," he said, panic rising.

"What?" said Velvet.

"Yes, yes. I must die before they die," Silver said, frantic.

"Who?" asked Oobleck.

"I'm sorry, but my desire must be kept. Know this—they won't survive if we don't leave. I must know: where is the bulkhead, so we can go?" said Silver.

"Over here. Let's go," said Oobleck.

They climbed into the bulkhead and started the engine with a massive roar.

"Ozpin, make sure the girls are ready," Oobleck called.

"Yes, but something's wrong. They're... falling apart," said Ozpin over the radio.

"Of course. A week is too long. I must push them back. I'll take those memories—a week will vanish, as will I," said Silver.

"Ahh, you're back. Did you get it?" asked Ozpin.

"The seeds are with me. The ritual must be completed. I shall die—and be here no longer. The echo will say one last sentence, and then I'll be nothing more than essence," said Silver, almost shouting with joy.

"Wait... you're going to die?" asked Coco.

"Why yes, daughter of police. I exist only for this—I must die," said Silver, smiling with his eyes closed.

"Then... afterward, will he remember?" Velvet asked softly.

"No, he won't. I'll take those memories to my death—along with the two girls—for sweet relief. The Sister of Snow will be confused, but the Woman of Speed will just ignore the unease," said Silver.

"We'll be at Beacon in five minutes," said the pilot.

"Pilot, do not land there. Go straight to the Headmaster—I must die soon," said Silver excitedly.

"Umm... what?" said the pilot.

"Not literal. Just... go there," Oobleck clarified.

"You four—Team CFVY—I must thank you for keeping me alive," Silver said, eyes open, smiling through tears.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry if we couldn't understand you," said Velvet.

"Please... I have one request, even though I know you've completed another quest," said Silver.

"Sure, why not. Tell us," her voice sounded tired Coco.

"Save him," said Silver.

They stared. "Save him? Who?"

"The Prince. He made Jimmy. They made sure he was lonely... and not understanding. Save him. He's still alive," said Silver.

"But... we were told he was dead," said Oobleck.

"Not literal—metaphorical. When he became everything, he also became... lonely. He's alive, but not in the physical sense. Not yet. He is, but he isn't," said Silver, his eyes distant. "He will reveal himself when the right moment comes. The first—after all, he made sure to speak with intent. But why he's still alive? That's the question. And it's not because he escaped death in a normal way. He transcended the physical."

"So... where can we find him?" asked Oobleck.

The ship landed with a heavy thud.

"My echo is ending," Silver whispered, and then suddenly bolted from the craft, his hair stripped to green as he ran.

"We don't have much time," said Coco, following fast.

Inside the Headmaster's office, they found Winter crouched in a corner, hugging herself. Harriet paced restlessly.

"Darkness and light are battling for control," Silver said calmly. "Please, stand—Woman of December."

"Oh thank God," Winter exhaled shakily. "I feel like locking myself in a vault. They won't stop talking to me—saying things I never wanted to know."

"What are they saying?" Silver asked.

"I'm not kidding. Sexual positions I never wanted to even imagine. Things people come up with that should never exist. And something called an upstart—please, help me!" she clung to Silver, trembling.

"At least you're not being taught how to manipulate politics using people's hobbies and... compromising photos," Harriet muttered darkly.

"I'm going to take those memories. Is that okay?" Silver asked, his voice strangely calm—more stable than before.

"Wait—no cryptic talk! Also, you're saying actual things now," said Coco, stepping forward.

"Because there's no need for riddles anymore. The darkness and light—I'm feeding from them. It's stabilizing me. But we don't have much time. Also, Ozpin—I'm going to tell you something, and I need you not to freak out."

Ozpin raised an eyebrow.

"I need him—the Flame Swordsman—to meet Penny. Ironwood knows who she is. She needs him. Also, get the police to the docks—fast. Free the Flame Swordsman and Team RWBY from custody. Thank you."

Silver's hair shifted again multiple strands green. "Not yet... but when he leaves..."

He spun his blade in a blur. The weapon swept in a circle, destroying every piece of furniture around him. A diamond-shaped marking carved beneath their feet.

"Winter—you stand there. Harriet—opposite her," Silver commanded.

"Okay. Will I remember any of this?" Harriet asked, already moving.

"No. I'll be taking Dystor—the memory fragment—into myself. It won't come back."

"Why is it telling me all these... vivid details I don't want to know?" Winter choked, nearly retching.

"Yeah, scat is real. It's trying to break you—emotionally or mentally—by using extreme triggers. That's its method."

Silver grabbed Coco's hand and gently guided her to a spot near Winter. "Solomon's with you, right?" he asked. She nodded, uncertain.

Then Silver turned to Fox. "You have the pack?"

Fox gave a slight nod. Silver moved quickly, positioning Harriet, then stepping to her opposite side. "You, Velvet—there."

Velvet obeyed. Yatsuhashi calmly stepped onto his spot without being told. "Perfect. How did you know?" Silver asked.

"I had a feeling," Yatsuhashi replied quietly.

"Okay... anything I can do?" Silver asked the group.

"Umm… yes," Oobleck said, eyes narrowing. "Where is the man with two swords?"

"Ohh, right. Find the Orb of Creation. His memories are sealed in it. You won't find it easily, but good luck. Oh—and blood. Something about blood..."

He paused, eyes widening. "SHIT—right! His blood. If the Grimm get it, they'll absorb part of his spirit. Maybe even a sliver of his power."

Everyone stared at him. "Well... good luck!" Silver said with a bright, chaotic grin.

"Wait—what?! Come on!" Coco shouted, exasperated.

"Allow the spirit seeds to rise. Listen to my call," said Silver, his voice echoing unnaturally through the room. "Divide my spirit—and take the darkness and light."

A swirling current of shadow and radiance spun from Winter and Harriet, pulled from their bodies like vapor. The energy coiled toward Silver, enveloping him, and as it touched his skin, his hair shifted back to its natural dirty blonde. His eyes became a perfect contrast—one black, one white.

"Erase... and let the memory of the two come forth."

From both women, shimmering strands unfurled—film-like projections sliding out of their eyes. As their pupils dulled and turned gray, Silver reached forward and grasped both strands, examining the glowing reels. He drew his blade and, with one clean motion, sliced through them. The weapon shattered, fragments dissolving into the memories themselves.

He breathed deeply, holding the captured memories in his hands. "Hey... save him. Save the man who sealed creation. He's missed by his truest ally," said Silver quietly. "Coco—your mom's proud of you. Go home. Have dinner with her sometime. She misses you."

Then, lifting his hands, Silver whispered, "Now, seeds... come forth."

Four glowing acorns—each a different color—floated around him. They fused in midair, drawing in Silver's spirit. A glowing green orb formed in his hands. He exhaled and released it. It hovered briefly, then floated upward. A silver orb burst into the sky, cracked in the air, and disappeared in a soft flicker of light.

Jimmy's body collapsed lifelessly to the floor. Along with winter and harriet. Then the multicolored orb descended, slowly entering Jimmy's chest. A flash of red ignited—his blade reappeared beside him.

Jimmy's eyes snapped open. He sat up with a confused expression. "Guys... I had this weird dream. I think I got slashed by a Beowolf..."

He looked around the room, eyes wide. "Wait—where am I?"

"Kid—your blade," said Qrow, motioning to the weapon.

"Huh? Oh—yeah, what about it?" He stood, grabbed the blade. His eyes widend. "Sorry be right back." Without hesitation shouted, "Ignite my strength—Wings of streghn!"

His form lit up. Wings of red light burst from his back, and he launched into the sky before anyone could stop him.

While the wind from his exit settled, Ozpin turned to the group. "...What just happened?"

"Yeahhh... we went to a spirit world," said Coco, clearly exhausted. "We were tested. Yatsuhashi even got four spirit seeds. Now we're all connected. Oh, and we've been given a mission we literally can't talk about—because if we did, it could cause immeasurable damage."

Ozpin blinked. "Is that all?"

Coco crossed her arms. "Also... we were in there for twenty-eight hours."

"You were gone for over a week," said Oobleck.

"Time flows differently. I need a bath," Coco muttered, walking off.

"You're dismissed. We won't be filing this," Ozpin said quietly.

Ozpin stood in silence, staring out the tall window of his office. The late dark light cast long shadows across the floor, but he didn't seem to notice. His hands were clasped behind his back, too still—too rigid.

"You don't sound like yourself," Qrow said, breaking the quiet.

Ozpin's voice was low, barely above a whisper. "It's Solomon..." He paused, as if saying the name alone summoned a weight to his chest. "How does he do it, Qrow?" he asked, voice raw. "How does he hold it all together?"

Qrow tilted his head, cautious. "You mean the guy stuck inside Jimmy? The one who built a new realm, took on cosmic horrors, and now speaks in riddles?"

Ozpin didn't respond immediately. When he did, his tone was bitter. "Yes. That Solomon. He's a being now... something far beyond any of us. He created something—something different. Entirely new. A realm, a construct, a philosophy. While I... I built schools."

He gave a short, joyless laugh. "I dedicated centuries to patching together what was left of the world after she tore it apart. I put bandages on a bleeding planet and called it progress."

Qrow leaned against a nearby column. "That's not nothing, Oz. You gave people a place to learn, to fight back. To hope."

Ozpin turned slowly to face him. His eyes were shadowed with something deeper than fatigue—guilt, grief, and fear.

"But it wasn't enough," Ozpin said quietly. "Not when compared to someone like him. He's on the verge of godhood. And me? I've lived lifetimes and I still stumble. I've made mistakes that echo through generations."

He started pacing, his voice rising slightly. "I've lied to my students. I've manipulated allies. I've sent children into battles they didn't understand—because I didn't have another choice. Or maybe because I did… and I was too afraid to take it."

Ironwood stepped forward, his face unreadable. "Look, Oz. You're not him. You're not Solomon. You don't have to be."

"But I wanted to be," Ozpin snapped, then caught himself, falling quiet again.

"I thought I could be the one to stop her. I believed I had a plan, a purpose. But now? After seeing what he's done—how far he's gone to fight the similar enemy—I can't help but ask: What was I doing all this time?"

He turned back to the window, eyes distant. "He created an entire dimension. He faced horrors I can't even comprehend. And me? I kept the wheels turning. I made sure the right schools had dust shipments on time."

A bitter silence fell. Then, softly, he said, "He killed his wife, you know."

Ironwood's jaw tightened. "I know."

"I envy him for that," Ozpin admitted. "Because at least he could do something. At least his choices had weight. Mine? Mine are buried in centuries of compromise. Every time I think I've outsmarted fate, it finds another way to remind me I'm still just a man."

He closed his eyes. "I'm tired, Qrow, Ironwood. So tired. Of living. Of failing. Of remembering every life I couldn't save. And now... I'm expected to keep going. To lead." His voice trembled, just for a second. "I don't know if I can anymore."

Qrow took a slow breath, walking up beside him. "You're right about one thing—Solomon is beyond us now. But you? You're still here. Still fighting. You don't need to be a god, Ozpin. You just need to be human—and keep trying. That's what you've always done. That's what matters."

Ozpin said nothing. "Please..." he finally whispered. "...Leave me."

Qrow exchanged a glance with Ironwood, then gave a silent nod. The girls are still asleep. They left Ozpin alone in the fading light, the weight of worlds resting silently on his shoulders.

A sharp ring broke the quiet of Ozpin's office. He picked up the receiver, eyes still lingering on the growing shadows outside the window. "Headmaster Ozpin," came a woman's voice on the line. "We've spotted a giant pillar of flame in the distance. We're already en route. Is there anything you'd like us to know?"

Ozpin's voice was calm, practiced. "Yes… our team discovered something—something significant. I'll send a professor to assist. Be cautious, and when you arrive, interview them carefully."

He hung up the phone, the click echoing like a gunshot in the stillness of the room. Then, softly, as if to no one, he whispered, "The one before Jimmy returned… Tell me, am I doing this right?"

A familiar presence stirred in his mind. Solomon's voice emerged, steady and ancient. "You are," he said. "I scattered humanity… and in doing so, forced them to remain divided. Now they no longer walk hand in hand."

Ozpin's breath caught. "You scattered them... for what reason?"

"To go against creation," Solomon said plainly. "I needed them divided—fractured—so they couldn't be controlled by one will. Unity made them vulnerable. Separation gave them will."

Ozpin closed his eyes, a tremor running through his hands. "And what was the result of that division?"

"Genocide," Solomon answered without hesitation. "Hatred rooted in skin. In origin. In fear. They turned against each other, again and again."

A heavy silence followed. Solomon finally spoke, his voice faint. "At least… at least you can do something. Me? I wait. I wait for someone to cultivate a seed strong enough to connect with… and until then, I'm just… here."

Ozpin hands tightened into fists. "I'm nothing but a caretaker of dust and children. You stand beside cosmic storms and ancient horrors. I stand beside empty desks."

Solomon's tone softened, almost regretful. "It was never about power, Ozpin. It was always about cost. And I paid mine in blood."

Ozpin hesitated. "Is Jimmy alright?"

"He's fighting strong," Solomon replied. "The dinosaur—your ally—stopped him just in time. He would've caused far more damage otherwise."

A wry smile tugged at Ozpin's lips. "Of course. And let me guess… you let them go."

Solomon chuckled. "Better part is—it's ending. The robberies, I mean. It's all about to come full circle."

Ozpin sighed, something deep and exhausted behind it. "Then… it's time, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Solomon. "I need to go."

Ozpin paused. For a moment, he wanted to say more. To ask—how do you bear it? The weight? The choices? The consequences? But instead, all he could say was, "Thank you."

And then the presence faded. The connection in his mind flickered and vanished, like a candle snuffed out.

Ozpin stood there, alone once again, in the silence of his tower. He looked down at his desk—stacks of reports, missing persons lists, battle assessments—and felt the crushing distance between the world's expectations and his own shattered certainty.

He wasn't a god. He wasn't even sure he was a good man. Just a weary soul in a crumbling castle, clinging to hope in the face of a war that never truly ended.