Journey to Mistral: Preparation
Tonight, then," she stated, her silver-amber eyes meeting each of her companions in turn. "We stop this ritual, protect the bridge between worlds, and ensure that Cinder's vision of separation never comes to pass."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of their mission settling over them like a mantle. Then Yang stepped forward, her lilac eyes taking in Ruby's transformed appearance with a mixture of wonder and concern. The pointed ears that now graced her sister's head, the way her skin had taken on a rich dark brown tone, and most striking of all, how Ruby's once-bright red hair had deepened to midnight blue-black, the crimson tips now seeming to glow like embers against the darker strands. Even her silver eyes had changed, flecks of warm orange and amber dancing within them like captured starlight.
"Ruby," Yang breathed, her prosthetic hand hovering uncertainly before settling on her sister's shoulder with gentle precision. "You look..."
"Different, I know," Ruby said softly, unconsciously touching one of her pointed ears. The gesture was eerily similar to how Odyn sometimes absently brushed his own deep blue hair back. "The elven awakening has been... more complete than we expected."
Yang glanced at Odyn, noting how Ruby's transformed features seemed to echo the dark elven royal lineage—the same elegant bone structure, the same ethereal quality, the dark brown skin and distinctive hair coloring that marked their ancient bloodline, though Ruby retained her essential humanity in the warmth of her expression and the determined set of her jaw.
"Together," Yang said finally, and the single word carried even more weight now—an acceptance of change, a promise that transformation wouldn't break the bonds they shared. The strength of their shared history remained: battles fought, losses endured, hope maintained against impossible odds.
"Together," the others echoed, voices blending in quiet determination.
Lailah moved to the center of the map table, her graceful fingers tracing the pathways they would need to navigate. "With the shortened timeline, we must begin final preparations immediately. Seraphina, your attunement to the Spring Maiden's power—how do you feel?"
Seraphina closed her eyes briefly, one hand touching the shadow gem at her throat while the other extended, palm up. A small flame danced to life above her skin—not the destructive fire Cinder wielded, but something warmer, tinged with green like new growth after winter's end.
"Stronger," she admitted, opening her eyes to reveal an inner light that hadn't been there months ago. "The power responds more readily now, and the shadow gem helps me maintain balance." She glanced at Mercury, her expression softening slightly. "Having an anchor helps too."
Mercury's usual smirk flickered with genuine warmth before he caught himself. "Save the sentiment for after we survive tonight," he said, though his tone lacked its typical edge.
Qrow spread additional documents across the table—building schematics, patrol schedules, and what appeared to be detailed notes on the ritual chamber itself. "Mercury provided these this morning, but we'll need to update our intelligence based on the accelerated timeline."
"The ritual chamber won't change," Mercury stated with certainty. "Cinder's had that prepared for weeks. But the security rotations will be compressed, and she'll likely call in additional forces from Vale and Atlas."
"Salem's creatures?" Blake asked, her cat ears twitching with anxiety.
"Some, yes. But also human operatives we haven't identified yet." Mercury's expression darkened. "Cinder's been building a network beyond what any of us suspected. Tonight, we'll see its full scope."
Ruby studied the ritual chamber schematics, noting the complex geometric patterns carved into the floor, the positioning of crystals at specific points around the room's perimeter. "The counter-ritual—it has to be performed from within this space?"
Lailah nodded gravely. "The Severance Stone draws its power from the chamber's design. To disrupt the severing, we must redirect that same energy toward connection rather than separation." She pointed to several locations on the diagram. "These focal points must be occupied simultaneously—four positions around the Stone itself."
"Four people," Ruby calculated, then looked around the room. "Seraphina as the Spring Maiden, but who else?"
"Myself," Lailah replied without hesitation. "My elven heritage provides the necessary resonance with the ancient patterns."
"And myself," Odyn added, his amber eyes steady. "The rituals require both light and dark elven aspects to achieve balance."
All eyes turned to Ruby, the unspoken understanding passing between them. "Me," she said quietly. "Because of the silver eyes and my mixed heritage."
"Ruby, no," Yang protested immediately. "You'll be the primary target if Cinder realizes what we're doing. Let someone else—"
"There is no one else," Ruby interrupted gently but firmly. "The counter-ritual specifically requires a bridge-walker—someone who naturally exists between worlds. That's me, Yang. It has to be me."
Yang's prosthetic hand clenched, the drachium modifications catching the light as her emotions surged. "Then I'm going in with you. All the way to the chamber."
"Yang—" Ruby began.
"No arguments," Yang cut her off, lilac eyes blazing with protective determination. "If you're going into the heart of danger, I'm going with you. End of discussion."
Before Ruby could respond, Jaune stepped forward, though his eyes widened slightly as he took in Ruby's transformed appearance—the way her midnight hair caught the light, how the amber flecks in her silver eyes seemed to pulse with inner fire. "Actually, that works better for the overall plan," he said, recovering quickly to study the schematics with tactical focus. "Yang's combat abilities complement Ruby's perfectly, and her... unique modifications might interact interestingly with the ritual energies. Plus, with Ruby's enhanced elven heritage now fully manifested, the resonance between you both might create additional advantages we hadn't considered."
Roy, who had been quietly observing from a corner, moved closer to examine both Yang's prosthetic arm and Ruby's transformed features with professional interest. "The drachium components were designed to channel and focus aura," he noted, "but Ruby's enhanced elven heritage changes the equation significantly. In a chamber saturated with magical energy, that combination could provide unexpected advantages." His eyes met Ruby's changed gaze thoughtfully. "Your mixed nature is now fully realized—you truly are a bridge between worlds in the most literal sense."
"Or unexpected dangers," Ren observed pragmatically. "We should prepare for both possibilities."
Nora bounced slightly on her toes, barely contained energy radiating from her small frame. "So what's the rest of us doing while the ritual team works their magic? Standing around looking pretty?"
Qrow chuckled despite the tension. "Hardly. We'll need diversions, distractions, and a clear extraction route. Cinder's not going to just let us waltz in and disrupt her life's work."
"Multiple entry points," Blake suggested, her tactical mind already working. "If we can force Cinder to divide her attention..."
"Exactly," Sarai agreed, her emerald eyes bright with strategic possibility. The reincarnated warrior moved with Pyrrha's familiar grace, though her dark elven heritage showed in her rich brown skin and the way her hair caught light with hints of blue and lavender beneath its copper-red surface. "Baron and I can lead a direct assault on the main entrance—visible, loud, impossible to ignore."
"While Jaune's team creates a secondary distraction here," Flare added, pointing to a service entrance on the academy's eastern side. Her fox tail swished with anticipation. "Magic and illusion to make a small force appear much larger."
"I hate being bait," Jaune muttered, but he was already studying the approach routes with professional interest. "Though I admit it's effective."
Mercury straightened, his expression becoming more serious. "I'll need to be with Cinder when the ritual begins, maintaining my cover until the last possible moment. When I give the signal, you'll have maybe thirty seconds before she realizes the deception."
"Thirty seconds to get four people into position around the Stone," Ruby mused. "It'll be tight, but doable if everything else goes according to plan."
"Plans rarely survive contact with the enemy," Hailfire observed dryly, speaking for the first time since they'd gathered. "We should prepare for improvisation."
The next several hours passed in intensive preparation. Maps were memorized, timing sequences rehearsed, contingencies planned for every scenario they could imagine. Ruby found herself working closely with Lailah and Odyn, learning the precise words and gestures required for the counter-ritual, practicing until the ancient elven phrases flowed smoothly from her lips.
"The power will feel different than your silver eyes," Lailah warned during one practice session. "Less directed, more... encompassing. You'll need to trust your instincts and let the energy guide you rather than controlling it completely."
"Like the difference between a scalpel and a river," Odyn added, his poetic nature showing through even in tactical instruction. "Both have their place, both require different skills to master."
Ruby nodded, closing her eyes and reaching for the sensation Lailah described. Her pointed ears twitched slightly as she concentrated, the amber flecks in her silver eyes brightening even through closed lids. For a moment, she felt it—a vast, flowing current of connection that seemed to link every living thing in an endless web of possibility, somehow stronger and clearer than before her transformation. The elven blood now fully awakened in her veins sang in harmony with the ancient power. Then it faded, leaving her slightly breathless but with midnight hair seeming to shimmer with inner light.
"I felt it," she whispered, her voice carrying new harmonics that hadn't been there before. "Just for a second, but... it was incredible. Stronger than before."
"That's the power we're fighting to preserve," Seraphina said softly, having observed the practice session. Her own dark elven heritage was evident in her rich brown skin and the deep blue hair that held subtle silver highlights, the orange-amber eyes that marked the royal bloodline watching Ruby with understanding. The Spring Maiden's flame flickered above her palm, and for an instant, Ruby could see how it connected to that same vast network. "Not just magic, but the fundamental bonds that make life meaningful."
Across the room, Yang was working with Roy to recalibrate her prosthetic arm's systems, fine-tuning the drachium components for the unusual conditions they would face. The modifications had always been impressive, but now Ruby could see additional complexity in their design—subtle patterns that seemed to echo the same geometric forms carved into the ritual chamber floor.
"Roy," she called, struck by sudden realization. "When you designed Yang's arm, did you base any of the patterns on ancient texts?"
Roy, the dark elven healer whose deep blue hair held threads of silver and whose orange-amber eyes reflected centuries of wisdom, paused in his work, considering the question. "Not consciously," he admitted. "But elven healing techniques draw from the same fundamental principles as the old rituals. It's possible that some of those patterns influenced my design instinctively."
Ruby felt pieces of understanding clicking together. "Yang, what if your arm isn't just going to protect you in the ritual chamber? What if it's actually going to help focus the counter-ritual itself?"
Yang flexed her prosthetic fingers, the drachium components humming softly with contained energy. "You mean I might be more than just backup?"
"You might be essential," Lailah confirmed, her ancient eyes widening as she recognized the implications. "A fifth focal point, one we hadn't accounted for in the original calculations."
The revelation shifted their entire approach. What had been a desperate gamble with minimal chances of success suddenly felt... possible. Not easy, not guaranteed, but possible in a way it hadn't before.
As afternoon faded toward evening, final preparations intensified. Weapons were cleaned and checked, communication devices tested, disguises refined. The safehouse hummed with purposeful activity, each member of their diverse group contributing their unique skills to the collective effort.
Ruby found herself standing by one of the curtained windows, peering out at Mistral's lights beginning to twinkle in the growing dusk. The pressure in her temple had become a constant presence now, the Severance Stone's power building toward its crescendo. Somewhere out there, Cinder was making her own final preparations, confident in her vision of a world where the bridges between realms would be permanently severed.
"Second thoughts?" Mercury asked quietly, approaching to stand beside her.
Ruby shook her head. "Just... thinking about how many people don't even know what we're fighting for. They go about their lives, never realizing how connected everything really is."
"Maybe that's for the best," Mercury replied. "Ignorance can be a form of protection."
"Or a form of weakness," Ruby countered gently. "When people don't understand their connections to each other, it's easier to convince them that separation is strength."
Mercury was quiet for a long moment, his usually guarded expression showing traces of uncertainty. "For what it's worth," he finally said, "I hope you're right. About connection being stronger than separation."
Ruby turned to study his face. "You're scared."
"Terrified," he admitted with uncharacteristic honesty. "Cinder's been planning this for years. She's accounted for every variable, prepared for every possible interference..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"Every variable except the one that matters most," Ruby said firmly. "She's planned for opposition, but she hasn't planned for unity. She sees our differences as weaknesses to exploit, but we've made them into strengths to share."
Before Mercury could respond, Qrow's voice cut through the room's conversations. "Final briefing in five minutes. Everyone gather around."
The team assembled quickly, forming a circle around the map table where their carefully laid plans waited. Ruby looked around at each face—Yang's determined protectiveness, Blake's quiet intensity, Jaune's growing confidence, Sarai's strategic focus as Pyrrha's reincarnated spirit shone through her dark elven features, Baron's steady strength, Flare's eager anticipation, Nora's barely contained energy, Ren's calm readiness, Hailfire's professional competence, Odyn's ancient wisdom evident in his orange-amber eyes and deep blue hair, Lailah's serene power, Seraphina's newfound purpose radiating from her royal dark elven bearing, and Mercury's complex loyalty.
Such different people, from such different backgrounds, united by something stronger than the forces trying to tear them apart.
"Tonight, we make our stand," Qrow began, his voice carrying the authority of experience and the weight of necessity. "Not just for ourselves, or even for Mistral, but for the principle that diversity and connection make us stronger, not weaker."
He paused, looking at each of them in turn. "I won't lie to you—the odds aren't good. Cinder has advantages we can't match. But she's missing something we have in abundance."
"What's that?" Nora asked, though her bright eyes suggested she already knew.
Qrow smiled, the expression transforming his usually cynical features. "Each other. And sometimes, that's enough to change the world."
As if in response to his words, Ruby felt the pressure in her temple pulse once more—but this time, it felt less like pain and more like recognition. The Severance Stone might be awakening, but so was something else. Something that connected every person in this room, every living thing in Mistral, every bridge between worlds that Cinder sought to destroy.
The counter-ritual would work. Ruby could feel it now, thrumming in her bones like a certainty carved from starlight and hope.
"Let's go save the world," she said simply.
And together, they stepped out into Mistral's night, ready to face whatever darkness awaited them in Haven Academy's ancient halls.
Journey to Mistral: Cinder's Perspective
The ceremonial chamber deep within Haven Academy pulsed with crimson light as Cinder Fall traced the final sigil upon the ancient stone floor. Behind her, the Severance Stone hovered above its obsidian pedestal, drinking in the ambient energy like a hungry beast. Its surface—black as void yet somehow reflective—rippled with anticipation for the coming ritual.
Cinder stepped back to admire her work. The chamber had been transformed according to Salem's precise instructions: runes of separation etched into every surface, barrier crystals positioned at cardinal points, the ceiling aperture carefully calibrated to align with tomorrow's celestial conjunction.
"Perfection," she murmured, her amber eye gleaming with satisfaction. The other, hidden beneath her hair, ached with a familiar pain—a reminder of her encounter with Ruby Rose and those accursed silver eyes.
"The preparations proceed as planned, then?" Lionheart's voice came from the chamber entrance, hesitant and strained. The Haven headmaster entered with visible reluctance, his lion's tail twitching nervously behind him.
Cinder allowed herself a thin smile. "Everything is ready for tomorrow night's alignment." She studied him, noting the shadows beneath his eyes, the slight tremor in his hands. "You seem... distressed, Leonardo."
"This goes beyond our original agreement," he protested weakly. "You said nothing about severing the realms permanently. The consequences will be—"
"Precisely what Salem desires," Cinder cut him off coldly. "The natural order restored. Each world isolated as it should be."
"But the faunus—"
"Will remain unaffected," she lied smoothly. "Their connection to the animal aspects of this world has nothing to do with the elven realm." The falsehood rolled easily from her tongue. Salem had made it clear that the faunus, with their spiritual connections to both worlds, would likely suffer most when the severance took effect. But Lionheart's cooperation was still necessary, at least until tomorrow.
The headmaster seemed to deflate further, his resolve crumbling against the weight of his fear. "And the council?"
"Will be dealt with," Cinder assured him. "Once the ritual is complete, power structures throughout Remnant will realign. Those who supported our efforts will be... appropriately rewarded." She let the implication hang in the air—that those who hadn't would face considerably less pleasant fates.
Approaching footsteps interrupted their conversation. Emerald entered, followed by the veiled figure of Carmilla. The blood mage moved with unsettling grace, her red robes flowing around her like liquid.
"The perimeter wards are active," Emerald reported. "No one enters or leaves Haven without our knowledge."
"Excellent." Cinder nodded her approval before turning her attention to Carmilla. "And your preparations?"
The blood mage's voice rasped from behind her veil. "The tracking spell is ready. If any Maiden power manifests within Mistral, I will know immediately." She tilted her head slightly. "Though I sense... something already. A presence that seems both here and elsewhere simultaneously."
Cinder's eye narrowed. "Explain."
"A masking technique, perhaps," Carmilla mused, her gloved fingers tracing patterns in the air. "Someone of significant power using ancient methods to conceal their magical signature."
"The Spring Maiden?" Cinder's voice sharpened with interest.
"Possible," the blood mage conceded. "Though the signature is... unusual. As if filtered through something I've not encountered before."
Cinder absorbed this information, her mind racing through possibilities. Raven Branwen was the most likely candidate for Spring Maiden, according to their intelligence. But if she was in Mistral already, why hadn't she made contact with her brother? Unless...
"Could it be a trap?" she asked sharply. "Qrow Branwen attempting to draw us out?"
Carmilla considered this. "The signature doesn't feel like deception, but rather concealment. Someone powerful is in Mistral, hiding in plain sight."
Lionheart shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps I should increase security around the academy—"
"No," Cinder cut him off. "Nothing must appear out of the ordinary. If Qrow or his allies suspect we've detected them, they might accelerate whatever plan they're formulating." She turned to Emerald. "Where is Mercury?"
"Gathering final intelligence from the lower tiers," Emerald replied promptly. "He reported unusual movement among the faunus communities—possible evacuation preparations."
This drew Cinder's attention sharply. "Based on what information? Who would have warned them?"
Emerald hesitated, uncomfortable under Cinder's intense scrutiny. "He mentioned the Belladonna girl might be involved. There are rumors she arrived in Mistral recently."
Cinder's hands clenched, flames flickering briefly between her fingers before she controlled her reaction. Blake Belladonna's presence complicated matters. The girl had connections to both the White Fang and Beacon's survivors—a potential nexus of resistance.
"Find Mercury," she ordered Emerald. "I want him back here before dawn. He's been in the field too long without direct supervision."
As Emerald nodded and turned to leave, Cinder's scroll vibrated with an incoming message. She checked it, her expression darkening as she read the contents.
"Problem?" Carmilla inquired, her tone suggesting more curiosity than concern.
"Adam Taurus," Cinder replied, irritation evident in her voice. "His White Fang faction is positioning around Haven, but he's demanding additional assurances before committing fully to tomorrow's operation."
"The White Fang grows inconveniently independent," Carmilla observed. "Perhaps a demonstration of your... persuasive abilities would be beneficial."
Cinder considered this briefly before shaking her head. "Adam serves his purpose for now. After tomorrow, his usefulness—and that of the White Fang—will be significantly diminished." Her smile turned cruel. "The severed realms will have little use for those who straddle the boundary between human and animal."
Lionheart visibly flinched at her words but said nothing, his cowardice overwhelming whatever moral objections he might have harbored.
"Return to your quarters, Leonardo," Cinder dismissed him with a careless wave. "Make sure Haven's staff sees you conducting business as usual tomorrow. Any deviation from routine could alert our enemies."
As the headmaster retreated, relief evident in his hurried steps, Cinder turned her attention back to the floating Severance Stone. Its surface rippled more vigorously now, as if sensing her regard.
"It hungers," Carmilla noted, approaching the artifact with professional interest. "The Stone remembers its purpose from centuries past."
"And tomorrow it fulfills that purpose once more," Cinder affirmed, reaching out to almost—but not quite—touch the Stone's shifting surface. "Permanently this time."
Hours later, Cinder stood alone on Haven's highest observation platform, watching as Mistral's nightlife illuminated the tiered city below. The evening air carried the scent of incense and cooking fires, the mundane rhythms of a population blissfully unaware of what tomorrow would bring.
The door behind her opened quietly. She didn't turn, recognizing Mercury's distinctive gait.
"You summoned me?" His voice carried the perfect blend of deference and competence that had made him valuable over the years.
"Your assessment of the situation in the lower tiers," she requested without preamble.
Mercury moved to stand beside her, his posture relaxed yet alert. "Significant movement among the faunus communities, as I reported to Emerald. Belladonna's influence, most likely. She's been seen with several White Fang deserters who followed her father rather than Adam."
"And Ruby Rose? Any sign of her or her companions?"
Mercury shook his head. "Nothing concrete. Rumors of strangers in the mid-tier districts, but that's common enough in Mistral."
Cinder studied him from the corner of her eye, searching for any hint of deception. Mercury had always been the most pragmatic of her subordinates—loyal to advantage rather than ideology. It made him simultaneously valuable and suspect.
"You've been in the field continuously since we arrived in Mistral," she observed. "Emerald mentioned concerns about your extended absences."
A flash of irritation crossed his features before being quickly suppressed. "Emerald worries too much. My value is in intelligence gathering, not standing guard over rituals I don't understand."
Cinder smiled thinly. "And yet you understand more than you let on, I think." She turned to face him fully. "Tell me, Mercury, what do you know of the elven realm?"
The question seemed to catch him off guard, but his recovery was immediate. "Only what you and Salem have shared. A parallel world once connected to ours, now accessible only through specific points of convergence."
"And tomorrow?"
"The alignment creates optimal conditions for the ritual," he recited. "The Severance Stone activates, permanently sealing the boundary between realms."
Cinder nodded, apparently satisfied. "Be ready at dawn. I'll need you positioned with Adam's forces to ensure they fulfill their role in the operation."
"And that role is?"
"Distraction," Cinder stated simply. "When Ruby Rose and her allies attempt to intervene—as they inevitably will—Adam's White Fang will engage them, drawing their focus while we complete the ritual uninterrupted."
Mercury's expression remained carefully neutral. "You're certain they'll come?"
Cinder's eye gleamed with malice. "I'm counting on it. Ruby Rose carries silver eyes—the last significant threat to our plans. Having her arrive precisely when we're prepared to eliminate her is... efficient."
"And if she brings unexpected allies?"
"That's why I've arranged additional insurance." Cinder's smile widened fractionally. "Hazel arrives before dawn with the final component for the ritual. Once in place, even a fully-realized Maiden couldn't disrupt the process."
Mercury absorbed this information with a nod. "Comprehensive, as always."
"Return to your quarters," Cinder instructed. "Rest while you can. Tomorrow reshapes the very nature of our world."
As Mercury turned to leave, Cinder added almost casually, "And Mercury? If you encounter any... conflicted loyalties in the coming hours, remember that Salem sees all, eventually. There is nowhere in either realm beyond her reach."
She watched satisfaction as his steps faltered almost imperceptibly before he continued without responding. The warning had struck home, as intended. Mercury was too valuable to eliminate without cause, but a reminder of the consequences of betrayal seemed prudent given his extended field operations.
Alone once more, Cinder returned her gaze to the city below. Somewhere amid those countless lights, her enemies gathered, planned, prepared—all futilely. By tomorrow night, the natural order Salem had described would be restored. The worlds would be permanently severed, Salem's power would be absolute in this realm, and Cinder...
Cinder would finally claim what she deserved: power beyond imagining as Salem's foremost lieutenant in a new age of darkness.
Her hand rose to touch the hidden eye beneath her hair. The pain that constantly emanated from it seemed to pulse in anticipation. Soon, Ruby Rose would pay for that injury. Soon, the silver eyes that had dared challenge her would be extinguished forever.
Behind her, the Severance Stone continued its hungry pulsations, counting down the hours until destiny arrived.
Cinder's Memories and Preparations
Cinder's hand fell away from her scarred face, the memory of Beacon Tower dissipating like smoke. She turned from the observation platform, her footsteps echoing against stone as she descended back into Haven's depths. The corridors seemed to darken around her, responding to her festering rage.
Those elves. Those damned elves.
Her fingernails dug crescents into her palms as she recalled the humiliation. She—who had just claimed the full power of the Fall Maiden—had been defeated, scarred, and left for dead among the rubble of Beacon Tower. If not for Emerald finding her in time...
Cinder forced the thought away. Tomorrow would bring vindication. The Severance Stone would ensure that no elf—dark or light—would ever again interfere with Salem's plans. The worlds would be forever divided, and the elven realm would wither without the energy exchange that had sustained it for millennia.
As she reached the ritual chamber, another memory surfaced—this one more recent and equally disturbing.
"You failed to mention certain... complications during your recovery," Salem's voice had been deceptively calm as she circled Cinder's kneeling form.
They were in Salem's sanctum, the windows revealing the hellish landscape of the Grimmlands beyond. Pools of black ichor bubbled and churned, birthing new Grimm that crawled forth with primal hunger.
"My Queen, I—"
"Silence." The word cut like a blade. Salem stopped before her, crimson eyes boring into Cinder's own. "You claimed the girl with silver eyes was responsible for your condition. Yet my sources report something more... interesting."
Cinder swallowed hard, knowing concealment was futile. "Elves, my Queen. Two of them. They called themselves Sarai and Odyn Albanar."
Something flickered across Salem's alabaster features—recognition, perhaps even concern—before her expression smoothed once more into impassivity.
"And this Sarai... she emerged from the body of Pyrrha Nikos? The girl you believed you had killed?"
Cinder nodded once, shame burning through her veins. "She claimed it was reincarnation. That I had killed her years before."
"Four years," Salem murmured, almost to herself. "Yes, that would align with the Freyvale incident." She turned her back to Cinder, approaching the chamber's window. "And this Odyn delivered a message for me, I understand."
"Yes, my Queen. He said..." Cinder hesitated, loath to repeat the threat.
"Speak," Salem commanded, not turning around.
"He said that the rage of an entire race is headed toward you. That they're coming for your head," Cinder recited, her voice little more than a whisper.
To Cinder's surprise, a soft chuckle escaped Salem's lips. "How very dramatic of him. The Albanar tribe always did have a flair for theatrics." She turned, her expression now calculating. "This changes nothing about our plans, Cinder. If anything, it accelerates the timeline."
"My Queen?" Cinder questioned, confusion evident in her tone.
"The Severance Stone," Salem explained, her voice taking on an almost educational quality. "Its original purpose was to create a temporary barrier between our world and theirs—a measure implemented during the God of Light's experiments with silver-eyed warriors. But with the proper ritual, performed during a specific celestial alignment..."
"It can make the separation permanent," Cinder finished, understanding dawning.
"Precisely." Salem's lips curved into a cold smile. "And how fortuitous that such an alignment occurs in just four months' time."
The memory faded as Cinder approached the Severance Stone, its surface still undulating with anticipation. She extended her hand, hovering it just above the artifact's surface.
"Your time approaches," she whispered to it. "Tomorrow, you fulfill your true purpose."
"Talking to inanimate objects now?" a sardonic voice interrupted her reverie. "Should I be concerned about your mental state?"
Cinder turned to find Watts leaning against the chamber entrance, his mustache twitching with barely concealed amusement. The Atlesian scientist had arrived that afternoon, ostensibly to provide technical support for the ritual, though Cinder suspected Salem had sent him to monitor her as much as assist her.
"Doctor Watts," she acknowledged coolly. "I wasn't aware you'd completed the calibrations on the celestial aperture."
"Hours ago," he replied dismissively. "Basic astronomy and mechanics. Hardly worthy of my talents, but necessary, I suppose." He straightened, approaching the stone with clinical interest. "Fascinating artifact. Pre-dates most recorded history on Remnant, yet its internal structure suggests advanced understanding of dimensional physics."
Cinder suppressed her irritation at his condescending tone. Watts may have been brilliant, but his arrogance made him insufferable. Still, his expertise was valuable—particularly when it came to the technical aspects of the ritual that Salem's instructions had only broadly outlined.
"Will the amplification system be ready by tomorrow?" she asked, referring to the network of Dust-infused conductors that would channel the Stone's energy throughout Haven Academy.
"Of course," Watts replied, examining his immaculately manicured nails. "Though I still maintain that utilizing the CCT system would provide greater coverage. The Stone's effects would propagate globally within minutes rather than hours."
"And alert every hunter and military force on Remnant to our activities," Cinder countered sharply. "The localized approach gives us time to establish control before expanding the effect."
Watts shrugged, conceding the point without admitting defeat. "As you wish. Though I doubt even the combined forces of all four academies could stop the process once initiated." His eyes narrowed suddenly, focusing on something behind Cinder. "We have company."
Cinder turned to see Hazel filling the doorway, his massive frame seeming to compress the space around him. In his hands, he carried a small wooden box inlaid with silver runes that pulsed with faint blue light.
"You've brought it," Cinder observed, unable to keep the satisfaction from her voice.
Hazel nodded once, his expression grim as always. "Straight from Salem. She says to tell you that with this component, the ritual cannot fail—regardless of interference."
He approached, placing the box carefully on the obsidian pedestal beside the hovering Stone. Cinder reached for it eagerly, but Hazel's large hand closed over hers, stopping her.
"Salem also said you're not to open this until the exact moment specified in the ritual instructions," he rumbled, his eyes boring into hers. "Not before. Not out of curiosity. Not for any reason."
Cinder bristled at being handled and lectured like a child, but forced herself to nod in agreement. "Of course."
Hazel released her hand and stepped back, his mission accomplished. "I'll coordinate with Adam's forces as instructed. The White Fang will create the necessary diversion if Branwen's people attempt to interfere."
"And the blood mage?" Cinder inquired. "Has she located the source of the masked power signature?"
"Carmilla continues her tracking ritual," Hazel replied. "She believes the target is remaining stationary, conserving energy. Likely preparing for some kind of intervention tomorrow."
"The Spring Maiden," Watts surmised, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. "It would align with intelligence suggesting Raven Branwen possesses those powers. The question is, why would she involve herself now, after years of avoiding Salem's attention?"
"Family, perhaps," Hazel suggested, his voice carrying a hint of something darker. "Qrow is her brother, after all. And if rumors about Yang Xiao Long's survival are true..."
"The girl with the prosthetic arm," Cinder recalled. "Emerald reported that Mercury seemed quite fixated on her during the Vytal Festival. Something about her fighting style."
An uncomfortable silence fell at the mention of Mercury. Hazel and Watts exchanged a glance that Cinder didn't miss.
"What?" she demanded.
"Nothing confirmed," Hazel said carefully. "But Mercury's behavior has been... erratic since returning from his latest reconnaissance. Emerald mentioned he's been unusually withdrawn."
"Loyalty concerns?" Cinder asked sharply.
"Possibly," Watts admitted. "Or simply the strain of extended field operations. Either way, I've taken the liberty of implementing a contingency. Should Mercury attempt to compromise the ritual, a neurological inhibitor I installed in his prosthetic legs will activate, temporarily paralyzing him."
Cinder raised an eyebrow, both impressed and annoyed that Watts had taken such measures without consulting her. Still, she couldn't argue with the precaution.
"Salem chose well when she selected you for this mission, Doctor," she acknowledged grudgingly.
Watts preened slightly at the rare compliment. "Indeed she did. Now, shall we review the ritual sequence one final time? The alignment begins precisely at sundown tomorrow, but preparatory steps must commence at dawn."
As they gathered around the ritual diagram, Cinder allowed herself a moment of anticipation. By this time tomorrow, the worlds would be severed, the elves cut off from Remnant forever. Ruby Rose and her allies would be eliminated or captured. The Maidens' powers would be one step closer to complete consolidation under Salem's control.
And Cinder herself would finally have her revenge on Sarai Albanar—the elf who had emerged from Pyrrha's body to humiliate her atop Beacon Tower. The scars on Cinder's face seemed to burn with the thought.
"For what it's worth," Hazel's deep voice interrupted her thoughts, his eyes moving meaningfully to her scarred face, "I understand the desire for vengeance. But don't let it distract you from the larger purpose tomorrow."
Cinder's eye narrowed dangerously. "I'm perfectly capable of handling both, Hazel."
"Of course," he rumbled, backing down but not looking convinced. "Salem merely emphasized that the ritual takes precedence over personal grudges."
"The ritual is my grudge," Cinder replied coldly. "Every elf erased from our world is payment for what they did to me." Her fingers traced the edge of her mask. "And I intend to collect in full."
Outside the ritual chamber, the fractured moon cast its broken light over Mistral, illuminating both the safehouse where Ruby's allies made their final preparations and the academy where Cinder plotted their destruction. On the horizon, the first hints of cosmic alignment began to manifest—subtle distortions in the starfield that would grow stronger as the decisive hour approached.
The battle for Mistral—and for the connection between worlds—was about to begin.
Cinder's Memory: Sarai's Mockery
"What will you do now, witch?"
The words echoed through Cinder's mind as she paced the ritual chamber, each step igniting small flames that licked at the stone floor before extinguishing. The Severance Stone pulsed in response to her agitation, as if sensing the depth of her hatred.
Cinder could still see Sarai Albanar standing over her, the elf princess's fiery orange eyes gleaming with triumph. The battle atop Beacon Tower had reduced Cinder to a broken, bleeding wreck—her newly acquired Maiden powers overwhelmed by the ancient magic of the elven siblings.
"What will you do now, witch?" Sarai had asked, her transformed body silhouetted against the shattered moon. No longer Pyrrha Nikos, the human champion, but something older and infinitely more dangerous. Her elven blade rested against Cinder's throat, drawing a thin line of blood.
Cinder had tried to summon her flames, but nothing came. Her aura was shattered, her body broken, her pride in tatters.
"You thought yourself powerful because you stole a fragment of magic," Sarai continued, her voice carrying centuries of disdain. "A thief playing with forces you barely comprehend."
Odyn stood nearby, cleaning his blade with methodical precision. "We should end her, sister. She's Salem's lieutenant—her death would set back whatever plans are in motion."
Sarai seemed to consider this, pressing her blade slightly deeper against Cinder's throat. "Perhaps. Or perhaps she should deliver our message personally." She leaned closer, her breath warm against Cinder's face. "Tell your mistress that the veil between worlds is thinning. Tell her that what was hidden is emerging once more."
Cinder had managed to find her voice, spite overcoming pain. "Kill me or don't. But spare me your speeches."
A cold smile spread across Sarai's face. "Oh, I won't kill you. Death would be too merciful." Her free hand began to glow with golden energy. "Instead, I'll give you a reminder—a mark to carry so you never forget this night."
Before Cinder could react, Sarai's glowing hand pressed against her eye and cheek. Pain beyond anything Cinder had ever experienced seared through her, drawing a scream that echoed across the ruined tower.
"This mark carries elven magic," Sarai explained as Cinder writhed beneath her. "It cannot be healed by human means. It will burn when you lie, ache when you scheme, and remind you always of your failure here tonight."
Through tears of agony, Cinder glared up at her tormentor. "I will... destroy you... for this."
Sarai's laughter was like breaking glass. "You're welcome to try, little thief. But know this—what you took from Amber was but a spark compared to the inferno that awaits you if you continue down this path."
Odyn had approached then, looking down at Cinder with cold calculation. "The tower won't stand much longer. We should retrieve Rose and leave."
"Yes, brother." Sarai had withdrawn her blade and stood. Her final words to Cinder had carried the weight of prophecy: "We'll meet again, Fall Maiden. When next we do, either you will have turned from Salem's path... or you will face the full wrath of both elven houses united. Think carefully on your choice."
As consciousness had faded, Cinder watched Sarai transform Pyrrha's spear into something new—an elven weapon of gold and bronze that hummed with ancient power. The last thing she saw was Sarai and Odyn leaping from the tower, Ruby's unconscious form cradled between them.
The memory released Cinder back to the present, where she found herself standing before the Severance Stone, her reflection distorted in its rippling surface. She touched the mask covering her scarred face, feeling the constant burn of Sarai's magic beneath it.
"What will you do now, witch?" The mocking question still haunted her.
"I'll show you exactly what I'll do," Cinder whispered to the memory. "I'll cut you off from this world forever. I'll watch your realm wither and die. And then I'll hunt down every last trace of elven blood on Remnant."
Behind her, the chamber door opened. Mercury entered, his expression carefully neutral.
"The White Fang is in position," he reported. "Adam awaits your signal."
Cinder didn't turn, keeping her eyes fixed on the Stone. "And the blood mage's tracking ritual?"
"Complete," Mercury replied. "Carmilla has confirmed a powerful magical signature in the mid-tier district. She believes it's the Spring Maiden, though the signature is... unusual."
"Unusual how?" Cinder asked sharply.
Mercury hesitated for a fraction of a second. "She says it seems to be deliberately masked. Like someone who knows how to hide their power."
Cinder finally turned, studying Mercury's face for any sign of deception. Finding none she could identify, she nodded once.
"Very well. Return to your quarters. Dawn comes early, and with it, the beginning of a new age for Remnant." Her lips curved into a cold smile. "One without elven interference."
As Mercury departed, Cinder returned her attention to the Severance Stone. Its pulsations had increased in frequency, as if excited by the proximity of the ritual.
"What will I do now?" she whispered to Sarai's memory. "I'll finish what Salem started centuries ago. I'll sever the worlds. And I'll enjoy every moment of your people's despair as they fade into nothing."
Outside, the fractured moon began its descent toward the horizon, marking the hours until dawn—and the beginning of the end for the connection between worlds.
Cinder's Memory: The Price of Arrogance
Salem stood motionless before the Seer Grimm, her alabaster fingers tracing patterns across its crystalline surface. The visions flowed like dark water, revealing events yet to come. Her crimson eyes narrowed as images of Cinder Fall materialized within the crystal.
The Severance Stone thrummed beneath Cinder's palm, its ancient magic resonating with her stolen Maiden powers. White Fang members positioned enchanted mirrors at precise angles around the stone while Carmilla, the blood mage, carefully inscribed runes upon the floor in a crimson fluid that gleamed unnaturally in the torchlight.
"The alignment is nearly perfect," Carmilla announced, her pale features accentuated by the ritual's eerie glow. "Once the fractured moon reaches its zenith, the barriers between realms will be at their weakest."
Cinder nodded, satisfaction curling her lips. "And our position in Mistral remains secure?"
"Adam reports they're completely unaware," Mercury replied from his position by the door. "Their so-called seers detected nothing."
A bitter laugh escaped Cinder's throat. "So much for their vaunted foresight."
Salem's fingers tightened on the crystal as she watched Cinder's future unfold. She had warned her disciple about the dark elves, had tried to instill caution. But in the vision, Cinder's arrogance remained unchecked.
"It's time," Carmilla announced, stepping back from the completed circle of runes. "The mirrors are aligned. The conduits are open."
Cinder moved to the center of the chamber, directly before the Severance Stone. The mask covering her scarred face seemed to grow hotter, Sarai's magic pulsing in painful rhythm with her quickening heartbeat.
"Begin," she commanded.
The White Fang members began a low chant while Carmilla drew a ceremonial dagger across her palm, letting the blood drip onto the central rune. The stone's pulsations intensified, bathing the chamber in waves of sickly green light.
Cinder closed her eyes, channeling her Maiden power into the stone. She could feel the barriers between worlds thinning, stretching like fabric about to tear.
"Yes," she whispered, exultation filling her. "Come apart. Break!"
A cold wind suddenly swept through the chamber, extinguishing half the torches and causing the mirrors to rattle in their stands. Cinder's eyes snapped open.
The air before the Severance Stone had begun to ripple and distort. For a moment, Cinder thought it was working—the veil was tearing. But then she saw the expression of terror on Carmilla's face.
"It's not supposed to do that," the blood mage whispered. "Something's wrong. Something's coming through."
The rippling air coalesced into a vertical tear that emanated darkness rather than light. From this darkness stepped two figures of regal bearing, their presence filling the chamber with ancient power.
Salem leaned closer to the crystal, studying the figures with recognition and something approaching respect.
The taller of the two wore armor of midnight blue that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. A crown of silver thorns adorned her head, contrasting sharply with skin the color of obsidian. Her eyes glowed with a deep purple light that spoke of magic older than Remnant itself.
Beside her stood a male figure of equal majesty, his armor more ornate, etched with runes that pulsed with power. His silver hair was braided with gems that caught and refracted the torchlight in hypnotic patterns.
"High Queen Hyuuan," Carmilla gasped, falling to her knees in terror. "And High King Berethon."
Cinder's confidence faltered visibly as she faced the rulers of the dark elves. "Impossible. The ritual should have sealed you away, not summoned you!"
High Queen Hyuuan's laughter was like winter wind through dead branches. "Did you truly believe we would not sense your meddling, Fall Maiden? The Severance Stone has been under our watch since before your kingdom's inception."
High King Berethon stepped forward, his voice resonating with controlled fury. "You dare attempt to sever the realms? To cut off our people from the world we helped shape? Such arrogance cannot go unanswered."
Salem's vision shifted, showing Cinder backing away, her stolen powers flaring defensively around her.
"Salem will—" Cinder began.
"Salem knows better," High Queen Hyuuan interrupted. "Why do you think she spoke of caution? She remembers our kind. She remembers what price was exacted the last time humans overreached."
Fury overcame Cinder's fear. With a scream of rage, she unleashed her full power, a torrent of flame that should have incinerated everything in its path.
The royal pair didn't move. High King Berethon merely raised one hand, and the flames dissipated like mist in morning sun.
"Stolen power," he remarked coldly. "Wielded without understanding or respect."
Mercury attempted to attack, his mechanical legs propelling him forward at inhuman speed. High Queen Hyuuan flicked her wrist almost casually, and he froze mid-leap, suspended in air.
"Your allies cannot save you," she stated. "This confrontation has been foreseen."
A third figure emerged from the tear between worlds—taller than the others, clad in armor of deep crimson that appeared wet, as if freshly bathed in blood. Where the royal pair radiated cold authority, this newcomer emanated lethal purpose.
"Valvaderhn," High King Berethon spoke without turning. "The witch is yours."
The Crimson Knight nodded once, drawing a blade that seemed formed of solidified darkness. No word was spoken as Valvaderhn advanced on Cinder with measured, inevitable steps.
Terror gripped Cinder as she realized the truth. She had overreached. Had challenged powers beyond her comprehension.
"Please," she whispered, her pride finally breaking. "I only sought—"
"You sought dominion," High Queen Hyuuan cut her off. "You sought to bend primordial forces to your will. As your kind always does."
Valvaderhn reached Cinder in three swift strides. The dark elf knight towered over her, faceless behind a helm forged to resemble a snarling beast. One gauntleted hand shot out with impossible speed, gripping Cinder by the throat and lifting her from the ground.
"The sentence is passed," High King Berethon intoned formally. "Let it be executed."
Cinder's scream died in her throat as Valvaderhn's blade pierced her heart with surgical precision. Light—not blood—poured from the wound as the Maiden's power was extracted from her dying body.
"Return to the cycle," High Queen Hyuuan commanded the escaping energy. "Find a worthier vessel."
The light coalesced into a small sphere before shooting upward, passing through the ceiling and beyond, seeking its next incarnation.
Cinder's body hung limp in Valvaderhn's grasp, the life fading from her remaining eye. Her last thought, revealed in the vision, was of Salem—and the warning she had ignored.
"What will you do now, witch?" High Queen Hyuuan asked the corpse, deliberately echoing Sarai's mockery. "Now that you understand the true depth of your ignorance?"
Valvaderhn released the body, letting it fall unceremoniously to the stone floor. The Crimson Knight cleaned the blade with a single, efficient movement before returning it to its sheath.
"It is done," the knight spoke for the first time, voice neither male nor female but something otherworldly. "The balance is preserved, for now."
High King Berethon nodded gravely. "But this was merely a symptom of a greater disease. Salem continues her work."
"Indeed," High Queen Hyuuan agreed, her gaze seeming to pierce beyond the chamber—beyond the vision itself—directly toward where Salem watched. "She watches even now. She knows what awaits those who serve her."
Salem jerked back from the Seer Grimm as if physically struck. The vision faded, the crystal returning to its normal, clouded appearance. Sweat beaded on her pale forehead—a rarity for one who had transcended humanity so long ago.
She moved to the window of her fortress, gazing out at the blasted landscape where pools of black ichor gave birth to new Grimm. A troubled expression crossed her ageless features as she considered what she had witnessed.
"So," she whispered to the empty chamber, "the dark elves still watch the boundaries. Their power remains... undiminished."
Salem closed her eyes briefly, composing herself. When she opened them again, her decision was made.
"Cinder must be warned," she murmured, "though whether she will heed caution is another matter entirely. Arrogance has always been her weakness."
A shadow moved behind her—a Beowolf awaiting command.
"Bring Tyrian to me," Salem ordered without turning. "Plans must be altered. The elven houses must not be provoked... not yet. Not until we are better prepared."
As the Grimm padded away on its errand, Salem returned her gaze to the desolate horizon.
"Hyuuan and Berethon," she spoke the names with reluctant respect. "Still standing guard after all these centuries. And their Red Knight, still thirsting for human blood."
She tapped one long nail against the windowsill, considering.
"Perhaps Cinder's ambition requires... redirection."
Behind her, the Seer Grimm pulsed once, as if in agreement—or perhaps in warning. Outside, the fractured moon continued its eternal passage across the sky, its broken face a reminder of previous conflicts between worlds, and the price that had been paid by all.
To becontinued...
Next time: Chapter 41: Journey to Mistral; Arrival