...
"RUBY!"
Jaune's voice ripped through the howling winds, raw with panic and disbelief. Team JNPR watched in horror as the rear cart—where Team RWBY and Rinko had been—lost all momentum, tilting dangerously.
A wall of white slammed into it. The avalanche consumed the cart, snow and debris engulfing it like an unstoppable force of nature. The weight of the cascading ice wrenched, tilting the train's structure apart, and in an instant, the rear section was ripped away from the rest of the convoy.
The bridge beneath them gave way.
A sickening crack filled the air as massive chunks of ice and stone fractured beneath the strain, breaking apart and tumbling into the endless abyss below. The last thing Jaune saw was the rear cart vanishing into the storm, swallowed by the sheer white void.
Then, it was gone.
Jaune collapsed to his knees, his fingers digging into the frost-covered roof, knuckles white with tension. His mind reeled, struggling to grasp what had just happened.
His chest ached, a dull, hollow pain growing with each passing second.
A firm grip clamped onto his shoulder.
"TUNNEL!"
Ren's sharp voice cut through the fog of shock, snapping everyone back to the present moment. The tunnel was coming up fast. They didn't have time to grieve—not yet.
Pyrrha and Nora shared a grim look before springing into action. Pyrrha grabbed Jaune, hauling him up just as the world around them became nothing but darkness.
Ren and Nora acted on instinct, sprinting across the unsteady roof. Without hesitation, they dived through the shattered windows, landing inside the cart just as the roaring FWOOOSH of wind was replaced by suffocating silence.
The world outside was gone.
The relentless snowstorm was cut off, swallowed by the black void of the tunnel. Only the rhythmic clatter of steel wheels against the tracks remained, echoing hollowly through the confined space.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
The weight of what they had just lost pressed down on them, suffocating and unshakable.
Then—
Cuts to black.
Later – The Station
The station was cold. They helped the passengers off the train, one by one, people fled from the train.
Team JNPR and Oscar made it out, but the weight of exhaustion hung over them like a suffocating fog.
Cardin trudged a few steps behind them.
He watched Jaune, his usual confident leader, reduced to silence. His head was down, and his fists were clenched at his sides as if he were trying to hold himself together.
Cardin knew that feeling.
He had lost his team too. The chaos of Amity Coliseum had swallowed them whole. The bitter sting of helplessness never left him. And now, Jaune was feeling that same pain.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Then, his scroll rang.
The sharp chime cut through the heavy air, drawing the group's attention. Cardin answered, his voice low as he spoke to an officer on the other end. The conversation was brief. After explaining the situation, he let out a slow breath and ended the call.
He turned back to Team JNPR.
"Jaune."
The name barely registered.
Jaune didn't react at first, his mind still trapped in the moment where the train cart had vanished into the snow. But slowly, as if pulling himself back to the present, he turned to face Cardin. The rest of Team JNPR and Oscar followed suit, waiting for what he had to say.
For a moment, Cardin hesitated. Words had never been his strong suit. He wasn't the kind of guy who comforted others—he had always relied on strength, on action. But right now, none of that mattered.
"I requested a search and rescue team... and a medic," he began, his voice steady. "But—we don't have the manpower to spare."
Jaune stiffened, his eyes darkening. "Isn't there an Atlassian base here? Couldn't they help?"
Cardin glanced away, jaw tight. "About that... from what I've heard, they've been pulling back their forces for a while now. As long as I've been here, they haven't done much." He exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry, Jaune."
Jaune's head lowered, his breath hitching as the weight of it all settled in.
Then, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder.
Jaune turned, meeting Pyrrha's soft, reassuring smile.
"Jaune, everything will be okay," she said, her voice warm but firm.
He let out a hollow laugh. "How can you be so sure, Pyrrha?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
She squeezed his shoulder gently. "Because I have faith in them. Rinko and Maria are with them. And we know Team RWBY—they're resilient. They'll find a way."
Ren and Nora exchanged a look before nodding in quiet agreement.
Jaune stared at Pyrrha for a long moment, searching for any sign of doubt in her eyes—but there was none. She truly believed in them.
A slow, tired smile formed on his lips. His hand lifted, covering hers.
"...If you put it that way, then I have faith in them too," he murmured.
For the first time since the avalanche, Jaune's heart felt just a little lighter. The weight of uncertainty hadn't disappeared, but Pyrrha's words, the faith she had in their missing teammates, kept the worst of his fears at bay.
After a few more exchanged words, Cardin and the rest of the group parted ways.
Team JNPR and Oscar made their way through the station, weaving past crowds of passengers and workers still shaken from the train wreck. The main terminal was busy, the overhead speakers crackling with announcements, and the air smelled of oil, metal, and lingering dust from the arriving trains.
Waiting near the entrance was a familiar face.
"Saphron," Jaune spoke, just as expected, her older sister was waiting for them. He had already made a message from Mistral that they'd be coming to Argus.
Saphron Arc was the same as he remembered—confident posture, easygoing expression, and arms crossed as she eyed him up and down. But beneath the casual stance, Jaune could see the concern in her gaze.
She gave him a warm smile. "I thought there would be more of you," she said, her voice carrying that same teasing edge it always had.
Team JNPR exchanged looks. Jaune chuckled under his breath, but there was no real humor in it. "Yeah... We ran into some trouble on the way here. Grimm attacked the train, and we got separated. Half the team's still out there, but... they'll be along eventually."
Saphron let out a soft sigh, her expression shifting briefly before she forced a smirk. "Well, if they managed to keep you in one piece, I'm sure they'll be fine."
Jaune gave a weak smile. "Yeah..."
Wanting to shift the focus away from the pit in his stomach, he gestured toward his team. "Uh, guys... if you're wondering, this is my sister—Saphron Arc."
Saphron gave them all a quick once-over before grinning. "You must be Team JNPR! And, well—" Her gaze landed on Pyrrha. "Pyrrha Nikos. Thanks for looking out for my little brother. I know he can be a bit of a pain in the butt."
Pyrrha chuckled lightly, her tone soft. "He's fine, ma'am."
Saphron waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, just call me Saphron. No need for formalities!"
The tension in the air lightened just a little.
As they left the station, the cool night air greeted them, crisp and carrying the distant sounds of the city. Saphron led the way, her pace relaxed.
"Oh, by the way," she said over her shoulder, "I need to stop by the store on the way home. Gotta pick up some nuggets for Adrian—he's been on a big chicken kick lately."
There was a brief silence, but then Ren spoke for all of them.
"Not a problem. I think we could all use a little normalcy."
Jaune glanced at his team, the exhaustion still present in their faces. The thought of something as mundane as grocery shopping felt almost surreal after everything they had been through.
Still, for the first time since stepping off that train, the world didn't feel as heavy on his shoulders.
Salem's Domain
The air around Salem's domain was thick with an eerie silence, the sky above swirling with dark clouds that seemed frozen in an eternal storm. As the airship touched down, its ramp lowered with a slow metallic groan, allowing Hazel, Watts, and Neo to step out first, followed closely by Mercury and Emerald. The group carried the weight of failure on their shoulders, their expressions grim, their pace heavy.
Waiting at the entrance was Tyrian, his mechanical tail curled around his waist like a resting serpent. His gaze flickered between them, his ever-present grin twisting into something more amused than usual.
He focused on Watts, noting the man's tired, exasperated face.
"Oh dear, what's the matter, doctor?" Tyrian cooed, placing a hand over his chest in mock concern. "You look absolutely dreadful."
"Tch—It's nothing," Watts muttered, adjusting his coat with a sharp tug.
Tyrian leaned in slightly, tilting his head. "Did you fail?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it. "Oh! And where's the relic~?"
The group said nothing. Their silence spoke louder than any answer.
Tyrian chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh dear. She won't be happy about this."
No one responded. No one needed to. They all knew what was waiting for them beyond those doors.
Hazel and Watts reached the massive double doors of the throne room, pushing them open with a slow, deliberate force. Inside, bathed in the dim, ominous glow of the chamber, Salem sat upon her throne, a glass of deep red wine delicately cradled in her pale fingers. She was the picture of calm—serene, collected, but no one in the room was foolish enough to mistake that for mercy.
Her eyes flickered toward them as they stepped forward, stopping before her throne.
"Watts. Hazel," she greeted smoothly, her voice carrying an unsettling elegance. "Was your mission successful?"
The group immediately bowed. All except Neo, who stood beside Tyrian at the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Tyrian's eye twitched at her defiance. She should be kneeling before their goddess, like the rest. But, for now, he let it slide.
"Speak," Salem commanded, taking a small sip of her wine.
Watts hesitated, swallowing his pride before bowing his head even lower.
"I... Forgive me, Mistress," he finally said, his voice carefully measured. "We were not able to retrieve the relic. The Schnee brat—"
"Watts," Salem interrupted, her voice cold and sharp as glass.
Watts' jaw tightened.
"What I want is the relic," she continued, rising slowly from her throne, each step deliberate as she approached them. "Did I not command you to bring it to me?"
A heavy tension settled in the room, pressing down on them like a vice.
"Yes, Mistress," Hazel answered, his deep voice calm but strained.
Salem's eyes darkened. "Then where... is it?"
Silence.
Watts clenched his fists before finally admitting the inevitable. "...We failed."
The room seemed to grow colder in an instant.
Without warning, blackened, twisted hands erupted from the floor beneath Watts, clawing at his limbs, pulling him downward into the abyss.
"Argh!" Watts let out a strangled cry as the hands gripped tighter, dragging him toward the darkness below.
Emerald took a step back, her breath catching in her throat.
Mercury stiffened, his usual smug demeanor wiped clean off his face.
Neo merely watched, her expression blank.
Tyrian grinned widely, eyes glinting with sick amusement.
Hazel, ever silent, did not move.
Salem stepped closer, peering down at Watts as he struggled against the relentless grasp of the shadows.
"I do not tolerate failure, Arthur," she murmured. "I gave you an opportunity. I placed my trust in you. And yet... this is what you bring me?"
Watts gritted his teeth. "Mistress, please, if you give me time, I can—!"
"You have greatly disappointed me, Arthur Watts." Salem cut him off.
The hands yanked harder, forcing Watts' body lower into the dark, until only his head and shoulders remained above the surface. His breath was ragged, sweat beading on his forehead.
Salem tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, she lifted her fingers ever so slightly.
The shadows stilled.
"You are fortunate, Arthur," she said softly, pulling her hand back. The dark tendrils loosened their grip, slinking away like retreating serpents. Watts gasped, coughing as he collapsed onto the floor, his hands shaking.
"Do not mistake this for mercy," she added, turning away from him. "You will rectify this mistake. And you will bring me what I asked for."
Salem returned to her throne, her piercing gaze shifting toward Emerald and Mercury. She regarded them with quiet scrutiny, her voice smooth as silk yet carrying the weight of impending judgment.
"And you two," she murmured, resting her chin on the back of her hand. "Have you nothing to say for yourselves?"
Emerald swallowed hard. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, the weight of Salem's expectations suffocating.
"Mistress.. I.." Emerald stammered, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. "Nothing, Mistress.."
Deep down.. It wasn't Doctor Watts nor Hazel's fault.
It was her.
Emerald's fault.
She insisted on going with Cinder's plan even though she's already dead.
Foolish.
Salem hummed, swirling the deep crimson wine in her glass. Her expression remained unreadable, but the air in the throne room seemed to grow heavier.
Mercury took a step forward, his voice carrying more frustration than fear. "The Maiden was on their side all along. She betrayed us."
Salem's grip on her glass tightened ever so slightly.
Emerald felt a chill crawl up her spine. There was no outburst, no immediate punishment—but that was what made it worse. Salem's silence was far more terrifying than her wrath.
Watts was still on the ground, his breath uneven, his body trembling from the suffocating grasp of the abyss just moments ago. He didn't dare lift his head.
Salem finally spoke, her voice devoid of emotion, yet each word carrying an unspoken threat.
"Get. Me. The. Relics." She took a slow sip from her glass, savoring the moment. "That is all I ask. That is all I expect."
Her cold, dead eyes flickered toward them, her gaze like a dagger against their skin.
"If you fail me again..." Her tone did not rise, did not waver, but the weight of her words sent a shiver through the room. "Then you are not worth my time. Just like poor, foolish Lionheart."
Silence.
Nobody dared to speak.
Nobody dared to move.
They knew what had happened to Lionheart.
They knew what would happen to them if they failed her again.
"Understood," Hazel said, his deep voice unwavering.
Salem gave a slow nod, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips. "Good." She waved a dismissive hand, her attention already drifting away. "Now, leave me."
Hazel wasted no time, stepping forward and hauling Watts to his feet. The doctor barely managed to steady himself, still shaken, but he swallowed his pride and said nothing.
The rest of them turned swiftly on their heels, moving toward the massive doors of the throne room. Neo was the last to exit, lingering just long enough to glance over her shoulder. Tyrian caught her gaze, an unsettling grin creeping across his face.
The doors shut behind them with a heavy thud.
Argus
Outside the grocery store, Saphron turned to Jaune and his team. "I'll just be a minute. There's a café around the corner, behind those houses. You guys can wait for me there while I do the shopping."
Jaune nodded. "Got it."
As Saphron disappeared into the store, Team JNPR and Oscar crossed the street.
"You know, your sister is really nice," Nora remarked, stretching her arms behind her head.
Jaune scoffed. "Yeah, she is nice—now. But growing up with her? Demon. Absolute demon. I was basically her personal dress-up doll." He shivered at the memory.
Nora burst out laughing. "Oh, that's adorable."
"That's traumatizing," Jaune corrected with a huff.
Oscar smirked. "Sounds rough. Want to talk about it?"
Jaune shot him a glare. "Not a chance."
The group chuckled as they walked, but Pyrrha gradually slowed her pace. Something had caught her eye—a stone wall lined with bouquets of flowers. She stopped, staring at it, a strange unease settling in her chest.
Jaune noticed and turned to the others. "You guys go ahead. We'll catch up."
Ren, Nora, and Oscar exchanged glances before nodding and heading toward the café.
Jaune turned back to Pyrrha. "Hey... you okay?"
She blinked, pulled from her thoughts, and gave him a small smile. "Y-Yeah... I just... I don't know. I have this weird feeling. Like I don't belong here."
Jaune frowned. "What do you mean? But You live here, right?"
Pyrrha didn't answer right away. Instead, she stepped forward, leading him toward the stone wall.
Jaune followed, his eyes scanning the engraved names—rows upon rows of them. People stood nearby, placing flowers, bowing their heads in silent remembrance.
His breath hitched when he realized what it was.
A memorial.
For the fallen of Beacon.
And Pyrrha's unease suddenly made sense.
Pyrrha's fingers hovered over the engraved names, her gaze distant. Something about standing here felt... wrong. Like an itch in the back of her mind she couldn't quite scratch.
Jaune watched her carefully. "Pyrrha?"
She blinked, snapping out of her trance. "Sorry, I just... I don't know what's wrong with me," she admitted, rubbing her arm. "It's like my body is telling me I don't belong here, but that doesn't make any sense."
Jaune frowned again. "You're from Argus. You do belong here."
She nodded, but the feeling didn't fade. If anything, it grew stronger.
Her eyes scanned the memorial again, expecting to feel sorrow for those lost. And she did—there were too many names, too many lives cut short. But beyond that, there was this deep, nagging unease.
Something wasn't right.
Jaune hesitated before speaking. "Maybe it's just... everything we've been through. Coming back here, seeing all these names—it makes it feel more real, you know?"
Pyrrha considered that. "Maybe..."
She wanted to believe it was just the weight of the past pressing down on her. But deep in her gut, she knew it was more than that.
Still, she forced herself to push the feeling aside.
She exhaled and turned to Jaune with a small smile. "Let's go. The others are waiting for us."
Jaune hesitated but nodded. "Yeah... okay."
As they left the memorial behind, Pyrrha took one last glance at the stone wall.
And though she couldn't explain why...
She had the unsettling feeling that, in another time, in another place...
Her name should have been there too.
[End]