Journey to Mistral: Final Preparations
Dawn broke over Mistral, painting the tiered city in hues of gold and amber. Ruby stood at the edge of the balcony, watching as early morning mist curled through the valleys between districts. Today marked the second of their three days before the celestial alignment—before Cinder would attempt to activate the Severance Stone.
Behind her, the safehouse had transformed into a workshop of preparation. Every surface now held some element of their plan: maps marked with defensive positions, weapons laid out for maintenance, components of the counter-ritual arranged in precise configurations.
Ren and Nora had arrived shortly after midnight, bringing supplies and intelligence from their reconnaissance of Haven Academy. They moved through the space now with practiced efficiency, Nora's usual exuberance tempered by the gravity of their mission, while Ren's calm presence seemed to steady those around him.
"The eastern approach has the least surveillance," Ren was explaining to Jaune and Sarai, his finger tracing a path on the academy map. "But it requires scaling the cliff face."
"Not an issue for most of us," Sarai noted, her emerald eyes calculating distances. "Though it creates a potential bottleneck if we need to retreat quickly."
Jaune frowned, studying the topography. "What about these maintenance tunnels? Lionheart wouldn't expect us to know about them."
"Exactly why Mercury suggested them," Sarai agreed, a hint of approval in her voice. "Though I remain concerned about how easily he acquired the information."
As if summoned by their discussion, Mercury appeared in the doorway, his usual swagger subdued. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he'd spent the night gathering the intelligence they'd needed rather than resting.
"Cinder's moving pieces into position," he announced without preamble. "Her faction has taken control of the east wing of Haven, with the relic chamber being prepared for the ritual."
Seraphina immediately moved to his side, her brow furrowed with concern. "Did she suspect anything?"
Mercury shook his head. "No, but she's brought in specialists. An alchemist from Vacuo who specializes in barrier manipulation, and..." He hesitated, his expression darkening. "A blood mage."
A tense silence fell over the room.
"Hazel?" Qrow asked, his voice sharp with recognition.
"No," Mercury replied. "Someone new. She calls herself Carmilla. Wears a red veil, speaks with an accent I couldn't place." His eyes flickered to Seraphina. "She asked specifically about Maidens and their power signatures."
Seraphina paled slightly. "She's hunting me, then. Or at least, hunting evidence of my presence in this realm."
"All the more reason to adjust our approach," Lailah interjected, coming to stand beside her daughter. "If this blood mage can track magical signatures, we need to mask yours until the moment of the counter-ritual."
Ruby watched as Lailah reached into a small pouch at her belt, withdrawing what appeared to be a teardrop-shaped crystal pendant on a silver chain. Its surface shimmered with an opalescent quality that seemed to both reflect and absorb light simultaneously.
"A shadow gem," Hailfire observed from where she leaned against the far wall, her tone carrying reluctant respect. "Those are rare even in the elven realm."
Lailah nodded, placing the pendant around Seraphina's neck. "My mother gave it to me when I first crossed the veil to this world. It absorbs magical signatures and reflects ordinary energy patterns instead—a perfect camouflage."
"Until I need to channel the Maiden powers for the ritual," Seraphina noted, touching the gem with reverent fingers.
"Precisely. The shadow gem can be deactivated with a simple phrase." Lailah leaned close, whispering words in an elven dialect so ancient even Ruby, with her awakened heritage, couldn't quite grasp their meaning.
Near the weapons table, Yang was making final adjustments to her prosthetic arm, Roy assisting with the integration of what appeared to be crystalline components along its mechanical joints. The modifications gave the yellow metal an almost organic quality, as though the boundary between flesh and technology was blurring.
"Try channeling through it now," Roy suggested, stepping back slightly.
Yang closed her eyes in concentration. The prosthetic began to emit a soft golden glow, heat shimmering in the air around it. When she opened her eyes again, they held a mixture of satisfaction and wonder.
"It feels... different," she observed, flexing the mechanical fingers. "Like the arm is finally part of me, not just attached to me."
"That's the drachium responding to your blood heritage," Roy explained, watching with evident pride. "The dragon metal recognizes its kin."
"And the heat regulation systems?" Yang tested, summoning a more intense flame that briefly encased her artificial limb before being drawn inward, absorbed rather than expelled.
"Working perfectly," Roy confirmed. "You can now store heat energy for later use rather than expelling it all at once. More efficient, and offers a tactical advantage—your enemies won't see your power building until you choose to release it."
Yang grinned, a flash of her old confidence breaking through the serious demeanor she'd maintained since their planning had begun. "Perfect for a surprise party. And Cinder definitely deserves a surprise."
Ruby approached them, drawn by the modifications to her sister's equipment. "That looks amazing, Yang. Does it... feel different?"
"Like night and day compared to Atlas tech," Yang affirmed, making a fist with the prosthetic. Tiny flames danced between the joints without damaging the metal. "This one works with my semblance instead of despite it." She glanced at Roy with undisguised affection. "Turns out elven bioengineering has a few advantages over Atlesian military tech."
"Particularly when designing for someone with dragon blood," Roy added. His expression grew more serious as he turned to Ruby. "How are your preparations coming? The bridge role is perhaps the most demanding in the counter-ritual."
Ruby unconsciously touched her silver eyes, now flecked with elven amber. "Odyn's been helping me practice the focusing techniques. I've almost mastered the third-tier meditation."
"Almost isn't enough," came Odyn's voice as he joined their circle. The tall elf's silver hair was pulled back in a warrior's knot, emphasizing his angular features. "The counter-ritual requires perfect synchronization between your human and elven natures. Any imbalance could collapse the energy matrix."
Despite the criticism, his tone held no judgment—only concern for her safety and the success of their mission. Ruby had come to appreciate his direct approach over their weeks of training together.
"I'll be ready," she assured him. "My connection to both worlds grows stronger each day."
Odyn studied her for a moment before nodding once. "Your progress is... unprecedented. Even among those with mixed heritage, few achieve integration so rapidly." A rare smile softened his features. "Your mother would be proud."
The mention of Summer Rose—who they now knew had carried latent elven blood that had fully awakened in Ruby—brought a bittersweet ache to Ruby's chest. So much of their family history had been revealed in recent months, unveiling secrets and connections that spanned both worlds.
"Speaking of connections," Ruby said, changing the subject slightly, "have we finalized the anchor formations for the ritual?"
Roy nodded, withdrawing a small scroll from his tunic. Unrolling it on a nearby table revealed an intricate diagram of interconnected circles and runes. "Each anchor pair will form the points of a triad, with you and Odyn at the apex position. Seraphina and Mercury will channel from the left point, representing transition and transformation. Yang and I will hold the right point, embodying healing and resilience."
"And the outer circle?" Ruby asked, studying the complex pattern.
"Jaune and Sarai will stand directly behind your position," Roy explained, indicating marks on the diagram. "Jaune's remarkable aura amplification abilities, combined with Sarai's elven training, creates a powerful reinforcement for your bridge function."
"Baron and Flare will support Seraphina and Mercury," Odyn continued, pointing to another section of the diagram. "The combination of dark elven magic and fox faunus intuition provides a natural counter to deception—essential given Mercury's history with Cinder and the risk of infiltration."
"And Ren and Nora back up Yang and Roy," Ruby concluded, seeing the pattern. "Ren's emotional regulation balancing Nora's intensity and Yang's fire affinity."
"Precisely," Roy confirmed. "The outer circle isn't just protection—it's amplification and balance. Each pair complements the anchor they support while also contributing unique energy to the overall matrix."
"And outside that?" Yang asked. "Who maintains the perimeter while we're all focus-locked in the ritual?"
"Qrow and Lailah will lead the defensive team," Odyn answered. "With Hailfire coordinating the elven wardings. They'll keep Cinder's forces occupied long enough for us to complete the counter-ritual."
Ruby traced the pattern with her fingertip, feeling the weight of responsibility settle more firmly on her shoulders. So many lives depending on their success—not just those present, but countless others across both realms who would suffer if Cinder succeeded in forcing a permanent severance between worlds.
As afternoon approached, the safehouse quieted as various groups broke off for final preparations. Ruby found herself drawn to the smallest of the back rooms, where Blake sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by an array of dust crystals arranged in a precise pattern. The cat faunus had arrived that morning, bringing critical information from Menagerie about faunus communities that had been experiencing strange phenomena—evidence of the boundaries between worlds already beginning to thin in certain locations.
"May I join you?" Ruby asked softly, not wanting to disrupt Blake's concentration.
Blake looked up, amber eyes reflecting the dust crystals' glow, and nodded. "I'm just setting up a communication array. If anything happens to our group, someone needs to be able to warn the others."
Ruby settled beside her friend, noticing the careful precision with which Blake had arranged each crystal. "Adam's forces?"
"Moving into position around Haven, but hanging back," Blake confirmed, adjusting a blue dust crystal slightly. "He's waiting to see which way the wind blows before committing. Classic Adam."
"And your parents?"
Blake's expression softened slightly. "Coordinating evacuation routes if things go badly. The faunus community in Mistral's lower tiers would be particularly vulnerable if Cinder succeeds." She hesitated before adding, "They're proud of what we're doing, Ruby. All of us. This alliance we've built."
"It's more than an alliance now," Ruby observed, looking around at the modest room that somehow contained representatives of so many different peoples and bloodlines. "It's becoming something new entirely."
Blake followed her gaze, understanding in her eyes. "Like a family formed by choice rather than circumstance." She glanced down at the communication array. "That's what I'm fighting for, really. The right to choose our connections, not have them severed by others who claim to know what's best."
The parallels to Adam's controlling behavior and Cinder's larger agenda weren't lost on Ruby. Both sought to impose their vision of separation—Adam between humans and faunus, Cinder between the worlds themselves.
"We stand against all forms of forced division," Ruby agreed, helping Blake position the final crystal in the array. As it clicked into place, the entire pattern illuminated with a soft pulse of light.
"Connection established," Blake confirmed, a rare smile crossing her features. "No matter what happens tomorrow, our message will reach the others."
Evening fell over Mistral, the city's countless lanterns creating rivers of light that flowed down through its tiered districts. On the main balcony of the safehouse, an impromptu gathering had formed as tension gave way to the human need for connection before facing danger.
Nora had somehow procured a small stringed instrument similar to a lute, which she strummed with surprising skill while perched on the balcony railing. Ren stood close beside her, ostensibly to ensure she didn't fall, but Ruby noticed the comfortable way they leaned into each other's space—a closeness that had deepened during their time traveling together after Beacon's fall.
Baron and Flare had prepared food, the aroma of spices filling the air as they distributed plates among the group. The newly married couple moved in perfect synchronization, their domestic harmony a stark contrast to the combat preparations that had occupied them earlier.
"A tradition among my people," Flare explained as she offered Ruby a plate containing what appeared to be skewered vegetables and meat in a rich sauce. "Sharing food before battle ensures that regardless of what tomorrow brings, we've known the pleasure of breaking bread together."
"It smells amazing," Ruby commented, accepting the offering gratefully.
Baron's deep voice rumbled with affection as he slipped an arm around his new wife's waist. "Flare could make hardtack taste like a feast fit for the elven high court." The pride in his tone was unmistakable. "My contribution was merely chopping vegetables and following orders."
Flare's fox ears twitched with amusement. "The most powerful dark elf warrior in three generations, reduced to my sous chef." Her teasing held such obvious affection that several around them laughed.
Even Hailfire, typically reserved to the point of aloofness, seemed to have relaxed slightly. She stood somewhat apart from the others, but Ruby noticed her plate was full, and she occasionally nodded in response to conversation directed her way.
Jaune and Sarai had claimed a corner of the balcony, their heads bent close together as they shared quiet conversation. Though Ruby couldn't hear their words, the intimacy of their posture spoke volumes. Sarai's hand occasionally brushed Jaune's arm or shoulder—casual touches that seemed to ground him, to remind him of her presence.
Watching them, Ruby felt a complex emotion rise within her—not quite jealousy, but perhaps wistfulness. The person Sarai had been—Pyrrha—had been dear to all of them, but especially to Jaune. That connection had transformed rather than ended, becoming something new and equally profound. Looking at them now, Ruby could see how Jaune had grown into the potential Pyrrha had always recognized in him, while Sarai had found in Jaune an anchor to her human aspects that might otherwise have been subsumed by her elven nature.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Odyn's voice came from beside her, startling Ruby slightly. She hadn't heard him approach, a reminder of the silent movement that came so naturally to full-blooded elves.
"What is?" she asked, though she suspected she knew what he meant.
Odyn gestured subtly toward the gathered pairs and groups. "These connections that form despite every force working to prevent them. Human and faunus, light elf and dark, those of mixed heritage finding their place between worlds." His amber eyes met hers. "It's the very thing the Severance Stone was created to prevent, yet here it flourishes anyway."
Ruby nodded, understanding. "Maybe that's why Cinder wants the Stone so badly. These kinds of bonds are a direct challenge to Salem's vision of isolation and division."
"Precisely." Odyn's gaze lingered on Qrow and Lailah, who stood together at the far end of the balcony, silhouetted against the city lights. "Your uncle and my aunt found each other across seemingly insurmountable boundaries. Their love produced Seraphina, who in turn forged her bond with Mercury—a man who grew up serving the very forces that seek to prevent such connections."
"A pattern of defiance," Ruby observed.
"Of hope," Odyn corrected gently. "Each connection between worlds strengthens the natural harmony that existed before the original severance generations ago. What we do tomorrow isn't just about stopping Cinder—it's about continuing the healing that has already begun through these individual bonds."
Ruby considered his words, looking around at their assembled allies once more. Each pairing represented a different aspect of connection across boundaries: Qrow and Lailah bridging human and elven worlds, Baron and Flare uniting dark elf and faunus traditions, Yang and Roy bringing together dragon-blooded human and elven healer, Jaune and Sarai connecting past and present through reincarnation and purpose.
And herself? Ruby touched her pointed ear thoughtfully. Perhaps her role was to embody integration rather than connection—the living proof that the boundaries between worlds existed to be transcended, not reinforced.
As if reading her thoughts, Odyn spoke again. "Your transformation is unique, Ruby. Not just a bridge between worlds, but a new possibility altogether—someone who is fully both, not torn between."
"That's why I'm at the apex of the counter-ritual," she realized. "Not just because of my silver eyes or elven awakening, but because I represent what could be—what should be."
Odyn nodded, a rare expression of approval crossing his features. "The future, if we succeed."
The impromptu gathering continued as night deepened, conversation flowing as naturally as the lantern light cascading down Mistral's tiers. Ruby moved among the groups, drawing strength from each interaction, each reminder of what they fought to preserve.
Mercury and Seraphina had remained somewhat apart from the others, seated on a stone bench at the balcony's edge. As Ruby approached, she could see the tension in Mercury's posture—a man preparing himself to face his former master, knowing the price of failure.
"Tomorrow morning I'll need to return to Cinder's side," he was saying quietly to Seraphina. "She expects a final report before the ceremony begins."
Seraphina's hand tightened around his. "We've discussed this. The risk is—"
"Necessary," Mercury finished firmly. "Without someone inside her inner circle, we lose our timing advantage for the counter-ritual. And timing is everything."
Noticing Ruby's approach, Mercury straightened slightly, his expression smoothing into something more neutral—a reflex born from years of hiding vulnerability. But he didn't withdraw his hand from Seraphina's grasp, a small yet significant indicator of how much he'd changed since Beacon.
"Ruby," he acknowledged with a nod that held neither warmth nor hostility—simply recognition.
"I wanted to thank you," Ruby said directly, seeing no point in dancing around the subject. "For what you're risking tomorrow."
Something flickered in Mercury's eyes—surprise, perhaps, at her directness. "Don't thank me yet. If I can't maintain my cover, the entire plan falls apart."
"You'll succeed," Ruby stated with certainty. "You survived years under Cinder's command without her discovering your doubts. One more day is well within your capabilities."
Mercury studied her for a moment, as if trying to detect insincerity in her confidence. Finding none, he gave a slight nod. "Cinder sees what she expects to see. Always has. It's her greatest weakness."
"And her greatest strength," Seraphina added softly. "She's convinced herself that loyalty comes only through fear or advantage. The possibility of genuine connection—of choosing to stand against her out of conviction rather than convenience—doesn't even occur to her."
"Which is why our counter-ritual can succeed," Ruby concluded. "It's built on exactly the kind of connections she doesn't believe exist."
Mercury's expression hardened with resolve. "Just be ready. When I send the signal, you'll have moments, not minutes, to begin the counter-ritual before she activates the Stone."
"We'll be ready," Ruby promised, meaning it. She glanced at Seraphina. "All of us."
As she turned to move on, Mercury's voice stopped her. "Rose." When she looked back, his expression had softened almost imperceptibly. "For what it's worth... what you're building here—" he gestured vaguely at the gathered allies, "—it's worth fighting for. Took me too long to see that."
Coming from Mercury Black, once among the most cynical people Ruby had ever encountered, the acknowledgment carried significant weight. She nodded once in acceptance of both his statement and the growth it represented.
Later, as midnight approached and most had retreated indoors to rest before tomorrow's confrontation, Ruby found herself alone on the balcony. The shattered moon hung overhead, its broken pieces casting fractured light across the sleeping city.
The sound of the door sliding open behind her announced another's presence. Ruby turned to find Yang joining her, two steaming mugs in hand.
"Thought you might want some hot chocolate," her sister offered, passing one of the mugs to Ruby. "Dad's recipe."
Ruby accepted gratefully, the familiar aroma bringing a rush of nostalgia for simpler times. "Thanks."
They stood in companionable silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks and looking out over the tiered city.
"Remember when our biggest worry was getting into Beacon?" Yang asked eventually, a wistful smile playing across her lips.
Ruby laughed softly. "Seems like another lifetime."
"In some ways, it was," Yang observed, flexing her prosthetic hand thoughtfully. The runes etched into its surface glimmered faintly in the moonlight. "We're not the same people who left Patch."
"No," Ruby agreed. "But maybe that's okay. We've grown into who we needed to become to face this."
Yang's eyes met hers, lilac tinged with crimson at the edges—her dragon blood responding to emotional intensity. "Are you scared? About tomorrow?"
Ruby considered the question seriously. "Not scared, exactly. More... aware of how much is at stake." She touched her pointed ear absently. "For both worlds."
"Both our worlds now," Yang noted. "Yours more literally than mine."
"We all have a stake in both," Ruby countered. "Your dragon blood, my elven heritage. Weiss's glyphs that we now know have origins in ancient elven runic magic. Blake's faunus ancestry that appears to connect to nature spirits in the elven realm." She shook her head in wonder. "We've never been as separate as we thought."
Yang nodded, understanding. "Which is exactly what Cinder—what Salem—is afraid of. Connection means strength. Divided, we're easier to control."
"Exactly." Ruby turned to face her sister fully. "Whatever happens tomorrow, Yang, I want you to know that I'm proud of how you've embraced your heritage. The way you've worked with Roy to understand your abilities instead of fearing them."
Yang's expression softened. "Back at you, little sister. You went from human to half-elven overnight, and instead of freaking out, you've owned it completely." She grinned suddenly. "Plus, the ears are kind of cute."
Ruby rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. Some things never changed, regardless of transformations and awakened bloodlines. Yang would always be Yang—teasing and protective in equal measure.
As they finished their hot chocolate, the balcony door slid open once more. Qrow stepped out, his expression serious but calm.
"You two should get some rest," he advised, though his tone was gentle rather than commanding. "Tomorrow requires everyone at full strength."
"Just finishing our hot chocolate," Yang assured him, raising her mug in demonstration.
Qrow's eyes softened slightly. "Tai's recipe?"
"The very same," Ruby confirmed. "Want me to make you one?"
A ghost of a smile crossed their uncle's face. "Maybe after. When this is over." He moved to stand beside them at the railing, his gaze sweeping over the city below. "Lailah's completed the final preparations for the counter-ritual. Everything's in place."
"And Mercury?" Yang asked. "Do we trust him to get the timing right?"
Qrow was silent for a moment, his expression complex. "Trust isn't something I give easily," he admitted finally. "Especially to someone with his history. But Seraphina believes in him, and that... counts for something."
Coming from Qrow, who had spent decades cultivating suspicion as a survival mechanism, this qualified endorsement spoke volumes.
"He'll come through," Ruby stated with quiet confidence. "He has too much to lose if he doesn't."
Qrow studied his niece thoughtfully. "You've changed, kiddo. Not just the ears and eyes."
"We all have," Ruby replied simply.
Qrow nodded, understanding in his crimson eyes. "Get some sleep. Both of you. Dawn comes early, and with it, our best chance to stop Cinder before the alignment peaks tomorrow night."
As he turned to go, Ruby called after him. "Uncle Qrow?" When he paused, she continued, "After this is over... I'd like to hear more about my mother. About her elven heritage, and yours."
Something vulnerable flickered across Qrow's features—a rare glimpse beneath his carefully maintained facade. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "It's time for that conversation. For all of them."
With a final nod, he disappeared back inside, leaving the sisters alone once more under the shattered moon. Its broken form seemed suddenly appropriate—a symbol not just of ancient catastrophe, but of the possibility of pieces finding new configurations, new harmonies after being separated.
"We should follow his advice," Yang suggested, finishing her hot chocolate. "Tomorrow's going to demand everything we have."
Ruby nodded, but remained at the railing a moment longer, her silver-amber eyes scanning the horizon where Haven Academy's silhouette was just visible against the night sky. Somewhere within those buildings, Cinder prepared to enforce division between worlds that had already begun the long process of reconnection.
But here, in this safehouse filled with improbable allies and relationships that defied traditional boundaries, Ruby found reason for hope. Their counter-ritual wasn't just a magical working but a declaration—that the connections between them, forged through choice and circumstance, loyalty and love, represented a power greater than any Severance Stone.
As she finally turned to follow Yang inside, Ruby carried that certainty with her like a shield. Whatever tomorrow brought, they would face it together—human and faunus, elf and dragon-blooded, those of mixed heritage and pure, united not despite their differences but because of them, each bringing unique strengths to the whole.
In that unity lay their greatest power and their greatest defiance against those who would keep worlds apart.
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.
To be Continued in Chapter 40: The Dragon Crest, Bane of Evil