#and my fight or flight response has NEVER been swifter

[medieval-shitposter]

Wishing my medieval friends a very type it “my lady” instead of “m’lady” because it jumpscares me every dang time

[moonsandstar-s]

The Final Warning - Chapter XXII

Chapter XXII - Fight and Flight 

Summary:  As the year draws to a close, peace has finally dawned. The time for unity has arrived. In the Vytal festival, it is time for heroes to rise, bringing glory to their kingdoms. But as autumn dies, the first winds of winter blow over Remnant, chilling the hearts of the people; breathing doubt into their souls. Long-buried secrets will triumph, and every action will have a consequence. Ruby must reconcile herself with her own fate. Weiss struggles to escape her legacy. Blake cannot erase memories. Yang’s search leads her into more peril than ever— but none of them can outrun fate. Shadows turn on shadows, and bonds shatter as they are tested to the limit. For in dividing them, they will fall and burn; at the eye of the storm, no peace lasts forever. In the end and beginning of time, there is a place where the sun never rises, and the dead delight to teach the living. A great danger is rising from the darkness. It’s time to take sides. The final warning is coming. The first chill of winter is the most deadly; it is the chill that kills more than any other. The first betrayal is the most damaging; it is the act that shatters bonds of love and trust, crushing even the strongest heart, tearing teams apart. AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7745314/chapters/21473954 Pyrrha 

The night had almost been too much to process, but now that they were standing outside of Beacon Tower, it hit her full-force like a ton of bricks. They were right at the base of the Tower, standing beneath the battlements, while a war raged below them in the vault.

I’ve killed Penny. Beacon is under attack. The defenses have failed, and a Grimm wyvern is set on the Tower. Amber is dead, and Cinder possesses all the powers of the Fall Maiden. Ozpin is gone.

She swayed slightly on her feet, breath coming fast and shallow, and then Jaune was there, one hand steadying her. “Pyrrha!” His voice was panicked. “Stay with me.”

She took a deep breath, smoky air billowing out from her mouth in the frigid air. The stars whirled overhead, and her vision focused until she could see again, and the ground felt steadier under her feet. “I’m okay, Jaune,” she said, her voice sounding far away. Every nerve of her body felt stretched taut, tension ballooning between them. She knew part of her tension wasn’t just the suppressed feelings— she had felt Amber’s soul enter her body, however briefly, and it had changed her. For the slightest of instances, she had felt the edges of a thousand souls, all the Maidens from the dawn of time, whispering in her mind, not sleeping but barely awake. She had felt fire and smoke, the briskness of winter and the heat of summer combined, pure power thrumming through her. It had been the most exhilarating thing she had ever experienced, and the most painful in her life, because as the power and ambition had flowed into her veins, her own soul had been pushed out. When Amber’s soul had withdrawn, yanked out by Cinder’s arrow and the cold hand of death, flooding into Cinder instead— Pyrrha’s soul had returned to her body, but she had been changed by the experience, and she knew it. She had tasted raw, elemental power, and for Cinder to possess not even a quarter of it, as Pyrrha had tasted, but the whole thing…

“She has to be stopped,” Pyrrha said aloud. “If Ozpin doesn’t stop her… Cinder has power, enormous power. She could summon the wyvern here to the Tower. She could summon the Grimm, make a ruin of Vale, of Remnant.”

Jaune’s blue eyes glittered at her in worry. “How is that even possible? She doesn’t control everything!”

“She could— if she killed Ozpin and took all the Maiden’s powers.” Pyrrha took a rattling breath, one hand on Miló, the other resting on Akoúo̱. “She could control this whole world.”

“The… Maidens? I don’t understand… what?”

Pyrrha looked nervously at the Tower, imagining the battle raging beneath their feet, all the power of autumn reckoned against Ozpin. He would never be able to withstand such an onslaught, and she shifted on her feet, anxious to get going, to do something. “Jaune, we can’t—”

“No, listen. Pyrrha.” His face was hard with anger— not at her, but at the situation, at the sheer injustice of it all, and she could have almost wailed aloud in pain. “Down in the vault. That’s the decision you were worrying about, wasn’t it? That’s what made you so sad for so long. Whatever Ozpin was doing with that girl in the coma and you, and the orange light…”

She stared, caught off-guard. “How did you…?”

“I know you,” he said simply. “What was it? Why were you in the vault, why did Ozpin ask you to go, just… all of it. Why?”

She clenched her teeth. “We don’t have time to talk—”

“Pyrrha.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and she realized, with a swift, sudden shock, what tonight must look like to him— how she must look, chosen by Ozpin, forced into her role. “Please.”

Giving up, deciding that an explanation would be swifter than an argument, she let out a deep exhale of breath. “You remember the legend of the seasonal Maidens, Jaune, don’t you?”

He looked confused, as if it was irrelevant. With a burst of bitterness, she wished it was. “Yeah, of course.”

Ever-conscious of how little time there was left, she rushed out the words, stumbling over them in her haste. “The legend of the Maidens is true. All of it is true. There are four Maidens on Remnant, and they can wield magic without Dust, and they’re incredibly, incredibly, powerful. Ozpin knew it, the General knew it, so did Goodwitch and that Huntsman, Ruby’s uncle. I was called to Ozpin’s office about a week ago, remember? He told me all of this, but he told me that there was a girl—”

“The girl in the vault?” Jaune was paling visibly as she went on.

“Yes. Her. Amber is her name. She is— was— the autumn Maiden, but she was attacked a while ago— attacked by Cinder. Cinder wants her powers. She only managed to steal half of them before Ruby’s uncle saved Amber, and Cinder escaped with half the Maidens’ power, leaving Amber in a coma when she fled. Amber wouldn’t live forever, though, especially not in a coma, so Ozpin wanted to use me as a… a vessel for the rest of the power, so Cinder couldn’t take it by default when Amber died. But that didn’t work out, because Cinder struck tonight, setting up the tournament to fail, having Grimm destroy the kingdom’s defenses, and to engage Vale in battle while she went down to the vault to steal the Maiden’s powers. She wants the power of it, I guess, wants the sheer strength it will give her… and now she has it. She has the Maidens’ power.”

His eyes were as round as moons, his jaw sagging open. “That,” he said with apparent difficulty, “is one of the craziest things I’ve heard.”

She took a heaving breath. “You have to believe it.”

He shook his head, still looking faintly stunned. “Of course I believe it; I just saw it with my own eyes, and I trust you. But… what are we going to do now?”

As soon as he said, a loud noise ripped through the air, like shattering stone mixed with an echoing scream. The ground shook violently under their feet, and they both fell to their hands and knees as the stone bucked under them, the very air vibrating with a deafening roar. When it subsided, Pyrrha looked up, and her heartbeat seemed to stagger as she saw what was there.

Within the transparent windows of the school, like a comet returning to the heavens, a blazing orange streak was hurtling upward, towards the summit of Beacon Tower. They were far away, but as they watched the streak bear upward, fire emanating from its shape as it shattered floors and windows, Pyrrha knew who it was.

Cinder.

“But Ozpin was fighting her,” Jaune cried out. “If she’s gotten out…”

“She killed him.” Pyrrha set her jaw. “There’s not much time left.” She turned to Jaune, before a thought occurred to her, and she frowned. With a sudden, striking realization, like a sunbeam parting the clouds, she recognized what she must do. There was no one left to save Vale, no one to hide behind. No Maidens, no Ozpin, no heroes to save the day…

Except for me.

The thought came with a faint echo of surprise, and oddly enough, she didn’t feel dread, only an unwavering resignation as the answer came to her. There is no one left to fight Cinder, no one who could hope to stand against her.

No one except me.

“Go,” she said suddenly. “You need to get out of here. Get to the city— tell Qrow and Glynda what happened. Before it’s too late.”

He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. “But… what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to fight her,” Pyrrha said quietly. “Don’t you see? This is the only way, I have to do it. Not out of a sense of responsibility, or because Ozpin thought I would fight Cinder… but because I love Remnant. I love Vale. I love Beacon, and all of you… and she’ll destroy it, if someone doesn’t stop her. Jaune…. if I don’t come back…” She swallowed. “When I don’t come back… don’t grieve. Just… live. There’s no one to make pay. There won’t be, not after this. The only way you could possibly make it all okay is… be the best person you can be. Don’t let it warp you, change you… see the beauty in life.”

Jaune looked shell-shocked, and he reached out, holding her hands between his. “Pyrrha,” he said, whisper-soft. “Please…”

“There is a poem,” she said. “‘Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.’” She gripped his hands tightly. "I'll always be with you."

His eyes shimmered brightly, and then, in a mutual sort of understanding, they both leaned forward, and they were kissing. Her chest feeling as though someone had clawed a hole in it, she cradled his face between her hands, the face she knew so well, kissing him as if the world were collapsing around them— and it was, wasn’t it, in a way? All they knew, all she had ever known, was irrevocably changed. And she found herself savoring every sensation, every thought and touch and sound, for she knew— almost certainly— that they would, very well, be her last ones. For ever. It was one thing to have the uncertain threat of death all around you. It was quite another to walk into your own demise, knowing that you would not return, and accepting that you would die, you must die, no matter what.

And she was choosing the latter.

This, she knew, was her fate from the instant Professor Ozpin had summoned her and told her knowledge that changed what she knew forever. The boyish lines of Jaune’s features were resettling into harder, more angular shapes, and his face was wet with blood or tears, soot streaking his cheeks.  He tasted like salt, a cacophony of blood and tears and pain. And their very first kiss was the first kiss of goodbye, of farewell, an adieu, because she didn’t think she would see him again— she could feel it, deep inside, where she could feel her heart breaking and falling and crumbling. Adieu. What a tragic word it was. Not quite a ‘goodbye’, not an au revoir. Not a see you again, someday, for we will certainly meet again— but adieu, a goodbye. A reqiuem. A final, ever-so-final, parting of ways.

She pulled away. He was crying as well, tears carving clear paths down his cheeks, and his eyes— beautiful blue, and heartbroken— rested on her.

I love you, she thought. But I have to do this. You understand that, don’t you, that this must have always been my fate? The words were there, choking in the back of her throat like tears, but as they tumbled to the front of her mouth, they came out differently.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, an infinite tenderness in her voice. “I will never forget what you have given me.”

He clutched at her hands harder, tears streaking down his face. “Isn’t there another way? Pyrrha, you don’t…” His voice faded away. They both knew that it had to come to this, that she was the only one who was strong enough, but he was shaking his head, backing away from her. “I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you die, Pyrrha. I won’t.”

Hating herself for it, knowing it was the only way, she summoned a burst of polarity to her hands, knocking him backward into a rocket locker. The door clattered shut, locking him inside, and his blue eyes glittered out from the shadows, now panicked.

“Pyrrha! No, please! I can’t lose you, please…”

“You won’t lose me,” she said gently. “I will always be in your heart, Jaune. You can go on. I know you.”

With that, she dialed in a location, shutting her ears to his pleas, summoning the warrior inside of her, the one in tune with sacrifice and blood and fighting.

Destiny.

The locker shot away into the night, spitting blue fire, and she watched it vanish in a glimmer of sapphire the color of his eyes. Suppressing a thrum of pain and regret, she turned, and began to walk towards the Tower, towards her fate, towards her destiny… towards her demise. / / / 

Jaune

He staggered from the wreckage of the rocket locker, his knees singing with pain, all his limbs watery and shaking. He could taste salt on his lips, could barely stand, but he numbly wrenched his Scroll from his pocket, thumbing in a code on the shattered screen. Weiss’s face sprang up, a diagonal crack running down the glass just over her eye, and the garbled dial tone rang out in the air.

She picked up on the third ring. Once, many weeks ago, he would have been all fumbling hands and nervous words, but he could only laugh at the memory of how he had once felt for Weiss— and how dearly it had cost the person who he was close to losing now.

He could hear the roaring of Grimm in the background, because everything was going to hell, and he could hear Ruby’s scythe taking down one after another. “Weiss!” He cried, clutching the Scroll like a lifeline— and for Pyrrha, it was— “Please, you have to stop her!”

“What?”

“Pyrrha!” he shrieked, his heart in his throat. ““She’s going after that woman at the top of the Tower. Cinder! She thinks she can sacrifice herself to buy us time, but she doesn’t stand a chance!”  

“Jaune, what are you talking about? Where are you?”

“Don’t worry about me!” He stumbled, his shoulder slamming into the side of a building. He could feel tears streaming down his face, hotly blurring his vision. “Please— please, you have to save Pyrrha. I can’t…”

“We will,” she said urgently. “Are you okay?”

Sorrow exploded out from him, his voice a harsh cry. He could feel the Scroll leave his hand and he collapsed, harshly choking on his sobs. I cannot lose her, I can’t— just as I realized how she felt, how I felt, it was always there… Why was I so stupid? Why did I wait… why, why, why…

He looked up, seeing what was in front of him. He’d landed in the city, right in the middle of the battle of Grimm. Somewhere across the sea of darkness, there were other Huntsmen. He had to help now; he realized that. He couldn’t be the coward anymore, the one who stood idly by while other people sacrificed themselves to keep him safe. With a grimace, he unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion, watching the moonlight dance across the blade, and wishing fervently that things were different. He could never make it back to the Tower... but there was someone who could, and all he could do was pray - pray, and use the skills that his partner had instilled within him.

His sword felt different in his hand. Firmer. Stronger, somehow, like he’d finally grown into it. Like he understood it now, and he and the warrior inside of him were balanced, as one— at a cost. But the price was too much to pay.

He pictured her weeks ago before she had turned into the sorrowful person he had just been torn away from— her eyes laughing, her face encouraging, and always— always— loving. It was all he had missed and all he had never seen.

He saw the raging sea of Grimm, tearing through the streets. There were only four Huntsmen there to suppress the tide of darkness. Once upon a time, it would have scared him. But now he only felt cold. He lifted his sword, swaying a little on his feet, and took a step forward to confront a snarling Ursa. The sight of its mindless, hate-filled red eyes made him cower, before he steeled himself, a similar snarl taking over his features.

This is not how it ends.

He pictured his partner’s dying— dead?— face, and let his fury loose.

/ / / 

Pyrrha

Upon entry into the Tower, after sending Jaune to the city, Pyrrha found that she had been right. Cinder had defeated Ozpin. The broken elevator, still streaming smoke from its shaft, stood as a testament to her victory. She had gained the Maiden’s powers after murdering Amber, and used them to propel herself to the top, to the office, the summit of the Tower. Pyrrha knew that, from there, she would be waiting to make the final claim for triumph over Vale. She would try to get the Grimm wyvern to do her bidding, and it could destroy a building with the merest lash of its tail. Pyrrha couldn’t even begin to imagine the destruction it would wreak if it were to actually try on Cinder’s will. She had already won against Ozpin, and she had no clue that Pyrrha was there, at the base of the Tower, of how she was ready for this, for her fate.

She didn’t know that there was only one soul waiting to stop her.

Pyrrha stepped into the elevator, skirting the smoking hole that gaped in the center where Cinder had shot through. With a glance upward, swallowing past the fear in her throat, she reached out, feeling, with her semblance, all the metal in the elevator. Then, with a mighty surge, she yanked it up and felt herself shoot skyward like a cork popped from a bottle.

The elevators flew wide open as she reached the top, torn apart by the centrifuge, and she burst through them without hesitation, seeing Cinder standing there with her back to the doors. Every bit of training and power surging through her fingertips, Pyrrha hurled Miló out of her hand like a javelin, aiming straight for the Fall Maiden, for Cinder, for her final opponent.

The first thing she became aware of was four pairs of glowing eyes, the color of fire, resting on her— Cinder’s eyes, and then, behind her, the eyes of the Grimm. The wyvern. It was curled around the Tower in a horrible imitation, a mockery of a bird on its perch, but as she exploded into the office, guns blazing, it took to the air with a shriek and a buffeting sweep of its wings.

Cinder snarled, ducking out of Miló’s path with a sinuous ease, like a snake. “Fool,” she hissed. “Ozpin is gone. He holds no power over you, and the powers were never yours, this isn’t your fight—”

“You’re wrong.” Pyrrha’s voice was flat and cold as she stared at Cinder. Every nerve in her body humming with an eerie calm, she pulled Miló back to her grip with a flash of her semblance. “For every soul you hurt tonight and every destiny you manipulated in your own hunger for power, it is another reason for me to fight. You played with fate as if it was yours to control… mine and Penny’s and all the people who suffered tonight because of you. So I ask you: how can you think that destinies are for you to meddle with? A true warrior knows that destiny is never defined, and I choose my own path. This is what I choose, and you’ll never take Vale or another person’s fate as long as I live!”

Cinder’s lips curved upward, as if Pyrrha’s words were amusing. “You remind me of him a bit,” she said, a strange note in her voice, like a purr. “The same unfailing faith in your own will. The same belief in the eventual triumph of what was good.” The smile fell from her face. “But Ozpin’s beliefs didn’t save him in the end. His arrogance came to nothing. His strength didn’t save him. Nor shall yours.”

Pyrrha struck, then, flashing her spear out as Cinder summoned a burst of flame to dance in her hands, giving her face a ghostly, haunted look. She knocked Miló away with a snarl of anger, but Pyrrha summoned it back, and they stared at each other, each sizing the other up. They both circled each other, like hawks, like two predators locked in some ancient hunt. The distant shrieking of the wyvern echoed through the Tower, and then, as one, they struck, and Pyrrha could almost imagine a clap of thunder echoing through Vale as they smashed into each other.

Fire scorched Pyrrha’s back as she landed several hard strikes, and she flipped back, using the force to launch herself off the wall, feet planted firmly on Akoúo̱’s center. She flew forward like a bullet shot from a gun, the shield backed by her weight, but Cinder blocked her with a shove of her arms. Pyrrha’s chest heaved as she fought for breath, and then she gasped; Cinder was hovering in the center of the Tower, actually hovering in midair, like some magic levitating trick, but twisted, horrible and wrong. Fire burned under her feet, the awful beauty of autumn’s fire emanating from her eyes, golden glory blazing forth in the shadows.

“You see,” she rasped, “this is the power he promised you, the power he lied of, what he kept smothered and shrouded in secrecy, what was never yours—”

Snarling, Pyrrha charged, cutting off Cinder’s words mid-sentence. With a flick of her fingers, Cinder spun around, her hand flashing out as she sent forth an arc of fire that dived forward like a snake, spitting sparks. Forced to dodge it, Pyrrha rolled to the side before crying out as another stream of fire shot towards her. She jumped over it, landing on both feet, planted apart on the ground. She looked up, eyes streaming from the heat and smoke now curling through the room, but her whole body felt as though it was made of ice. A deep chill settled in her veins.

Six balls of seething, shifting fire had formed behind Cinder, casting a deadly red halo of light across her hair, a net of scarlet dancing across her skin. With a laugh lost in the roar of the flame, she flung them forward, and Pyrrha whirled and danced, barely avoiding them. She screamed aloud in frustration as she saw Cinder had moved yet again, the fire still shivering beneath her feet like a compass point.

Another stream of fire dove forward from the Maiden’s hands, a thick band of writhing lava, and this time, Pyrrha, with a muttered prayer, grasped Akoúo̱ and thrust herself forward into the midst of the fire, knowing Cinder wouldn’t expect it.

The minute she hit the roaring, spitting inferno, her Aura shivered with the effort of keeping her skin intact, but she could still feel the flame licking her skin, singeing it, as it spilled past Akoúo̱’s edges and spattered against her. Every pain she had ever endured, times ten, twenty, a hundred— every fight— nothing had been so hard as this, and her breath burned in her lungs, like acid, the smoke blinding her. She slammed into Cinder and immediately capitalized on her proximity, using Miló to assault Cinder with a flurry of slashes and jabs until her arm was streaming bright-red blood, tatters of skin hanging off her arm, mixing the reek of coppery blood with the sharp scent of smoke. Cinder swore loudly, grabbing Miló, her hands wrapping around the blade. It was clearly painful— her teeth bared in a rictus, a terrible grin of agony, but she powered through, blood welling from her hands and running down Miló’s glimmering golden length as she seized the blade and pulled it towards her, forcing Pyrrha to move with it, until her back was to Cinder. With a howl, Cinder kicked her right in the spine, sending her to her knees. Another kick sent Pyrrha crashing through a spindly table into the stone wall of the office.

Groaning, she struggled to her feet, the cold adrenaline of battle surging through her veins. She was bleeding now, but by no means beaten, and as she stared at Cinder, stared into her fiery amber eyes, she was struck by a feeling of power, illimitable power. She didn’t think for a second she could win this— not she, mortal as she was, reckoned against the pure power of a season— but there was only one thought in her head: I am doing this because I have to, and it will be enough.

It has to be.

Cinder flew forward, dipping low to the ground before skyrocketing upwards, taking Pyrrha with her. They grappled briefly in midair, each strike sending a shockwave through Pyrrha’s Aura, and a brief flash of terror flickered through her . What if she couldn’t do it? What if her sacrifice was in vain, and she couldn’t cripple Cinder enough to stop her, what if she couldn’t save the Tower, or Vale, or her friends, or any of it?

No, she thought fiercely. It is enough, because I am strong enough! I was the candidate for the Maiden’s powers. I will stop her!

She delivered several hard kicks to Cinder’s face, making her screech in pain and release Pyrrha, who plummeted the floor like a dropped stone. Landing on her feet, she upturned Miló, throwing it at Cinder, who deflected it with a wall of fire that roared up out of nowhere. Pyrrha called it back to her side, charging forward in a run as Cinder landed, and used the momentum to flip the Maiden’s body over and slam her into the floor.

But she underestimated the strength of the other woman, and Cinder did a back-hand-spring, landing on her feet. Desperate now, Pyrrha hurtled forward again, slamming her shield into Cinder’s skull as hard as she could and crying out as Cinder delivered a retaliating, stabbing blow to her abdomen, but she did not recoil from it. Pyrrha hit back just as hard, making the Maiden stumble, and as she staggered back, Pyrrha smacked Cinder’s hand with the blunt end of her spear, and then ducked around to slash her other hand with the blade. As Cinder hissed in pain, Pyrrha spun around and stabbed at her stomach.

She retaliated, scorching a blaze across Pyrrha’s arm with a spear of fire. Crying out in pain, Pyrrha gritted her teeth and snapped around to attack again, but Cinder was quick, too quick; she reached out and gripped Pyrrha’s shoulders, dragging her forward like she weighed no more than a rag doll. Still holding on, her fingers digging into Pyrrha’s shoulders hard enough to draw blood, Cinder performed a backflip, knocking her into the air. Pyrrha righted herself midair, hurling her spear towards Cinder, who dissipated six fireballs to knock it away. A look of surprised annoyance flashed across her opponent’s face as Akoúo̱ quickly followed Miló, nearly bashing her across the forehead, and she ducked it. Pyrrha summoned both her weapons back as she fell from the air, hands pulsing with polarity.

As she landed, Pyrrha launched herself towards Cinder and put her in a headlock, tackling her to the ground. They turned in midair, grappling like two wild animals, fighting to be the one on top, and as they smashed into the ground, a cloud of dust plumed up around them.

Pyrrha took advantage of the thick swirling silt to tighten her grip around Cinder’s neck, feeling her swallow against the blade as she choked with the applied pressure.

“Get up,” Pyrrha rasped, her voice sounding horribly strangled as she staggered to her feet, still squeezing her grip around the Maiden’s throat. She could feel her heartbeat under her palms, the age-old bloodlust of the warrior, the urge to drive down on that heartbeat until it ceased to be. “Get up, or I will kill you.”

Cinder got to her feet in one fluid motion, not struggling against Pyrrha’s grip on her neck. “Kill me as you killed another tonight?” she whispered, laughing coldly. “Or does a body without a soul not count?”

“Penny had a soul,” Pyrrha spat. “It’s you who doesn’t.”

At that, Cinder stopped laughing, and they both paused, at a standstill, both seeking a way out of the position. Cinder suddenly stiffened, and Pyrrha turned to look at what had caught her attention.

The wyvern had been circling high above the Tower during their battle, and now— at her bidding, perhaps?— it circled around and suddenly shot forward, veering up at the last second and barely avoiding hitting the summit. Pyrrha turned back to look at Cinder, who had begun to shift her position during Pyrrha’s distraction.

There was a smile on her face, a cold, quiet, amused smile, like they both shared a mysterious secret, and she did not struggle against Pyrrha’s tightening chokehold. Her hands were curled gently across Miló, holding it as one would hold something precious— not gripping as they had before, so that the blade cut and sliced at her palms and drew blood. She was barely resting her hands upon the metal this time, but Pyrrha realized what she was doing moments before it took effect, and she was too late to stop her.

Miló snapped into unusable quarters of metal, just as Pyrrha had done to Penny, destroyed parts of what had once been whole and functioning. The edges were still glowing with superficial heat, and the pieces of her broken weapon clattered to the ground. Pyrrha staggered back as Cinder took advantage of her distraction to elbow her in the chest before hurling her body backward. She went flying, hitting the back wall with a loud cracking noise, her skull slamming backward and sending waves of darkness lancing across her vision. Sliding to the ground, she let out a low moan, her vision hazy. But even with the darkness, she could see an emerald glow suddenly suffuse the room, followed by a great ripping sound, the noise of stone being rended from stone. Blinking away agony, she looked up, and gasped.

She was not met by the sight of the circular roof, but rather, the great expanse of the snowy night sky, filled with a mixture of wind-torn shreds of cloud, and stars. There was a crashing noise from far below her, and she knew it was the roof— cogs, gears, and stones— hitting the ground, followed by the CCT’s transmitter. The wyvern had hit the tower, and with it, it had knocked off the roof of the office, and the CCT transmitter.

A burst of sheer terror exploded in her chest. No. No, no, no… I failed! The Tower… Ozpin said the Tower mustn’t fall, and it has…

But she could not continue the train of thought; Cinder was staring at her, fire bubbling up from her bloody palms once more. Pyrrha sensed she was not about to strike; she was waiting, so the first move was up to her. Staring up at her, seeing the power that she so obviously held and controlled with ease, Pyrrha felt doubt thrum through her. She had never been afraid she might lose  a fight— never. But tonight was a night full of new experiences, and pain was making her movements sluggish, slowing her blood, clouding her mind.

“This is folly,” Cinder said, shaking away blood from her arm impatiently, as if the wound Pyrrha had inflicted was merely an annoyance, a pest. “Star-child. Did Ozpin make you believe you were special? You were only ever a pawn in his game and mine. The only difference is that I am honest enough to admit it to you.”

Pyrrha snarled. “I know you’re a murderer. A liar. A traitor. You killed Penny and Ozpin without any remorse.”

Cinder smiled. “Even for one like you, the pinnacle of virtue, the strongest of Huntresses, you who manipulates fate even with your semblance… to fight a Maiden is to die.”

The only fate I ever controlled was my own. “You fought Amber once,” Pyrrha whispered instead. “When you were mortal, as I am. They told me. And you lived.”

Something like surprise flashed over her face, before cold cruelty replaced it. “A weak Maiden, such as Amber,” she growled, “had no mastery of her incredible powers, no chance, no chance of winning against someone like me. It was only right for me to possess them; I would use them in far more powerful ways than she could have dreamed of. And if I beat her without the powers, on my own merits… what exactly are you expecting to do here, when I am far more powerful than any mortal has ever been?” Cinder lowered herself to the ground, her amber eyes glowing. “If you leave now, there is a chance you could survive, child, but if you do not, there is none. Do you truly believe that tonight will go down as anything but the first tragedy of Remnant, the night a Huntress child died, the night Vale succumbed to what was stronger than it?”

“It’s not certain,” Pyrrha said desperately. “The Huntsmen and Huntresses might not lose. They could rally.”

Cinder smiled. “That’s a chance you could take,” she said. “But listen. They have come to Vale now, those who create the shadows between the stars. They are drawn to places of slaughter and sorrow. Can you see?”

Pyrrha looked out the windows, and so did Cinder, seeing the wyvern circling high above them, a great black shadow that blotted out the stars. All sorts of Grimm fell from the length of its body, Taijitus and Beowolves and Ursai and Griffons, howling as they tasted the blood and misery in the air…

While Cinder was gazing out the window, Pyrrha struck. She lunged for Cinder, driving downward with her weapon, pinning her and burying the metal in the flesh near her shoulder. Blood bubbled up from the wound, turning her red dress redder. With a shriek of rage and pain, Cinder kicked her off, flipping to her feet with true fury now burning in her eyes, fire spitting sparks from them.

She shot up into the air, her lips drawn back in a terrible snarl as she flung barbs of fire at Pyrrha, one after the other so quickly that Pyrrha could not dodge them. The office was ablaze now in a whirling inferno, fire crawling up the walls, racing across the floor.

Pyrrha rolled out of the way of two rapid-fire blasts of flame thrown her way, but she wasn’t quick enough as a third blast of fire smashed her in the chest, sending her tumbling backward. With a scream of agony, she slammed into the wall before springing to her feet as the floor beneath her caught light, embers spilling out across the ground.

If I can distract her and make her think I’m doing something other than what I am…

It was a longshot, but it was the only thing she had left. Using one hand, muscles trembling with the strain, Pyrrha concentrated on using her polarity to raise every ounce of heavy metal in the office. While she did so, she squinted through the rising wall of flame, lifted Akoúo̱, and with a deep breath, flung it through the rippling orange wall.

Cinder backhanded the shield away with ease, smirking at the apparently weak move and at the same moment, Pyrrha swiped her own hand through the air and sent every bit of metal toppling on top of Cinder, burying her under a shining pile of silver and gold.

A scream of rage echoed from its center, and Pyrrha’s eyes widened as it began to glow red-hot, like a massive ember. The metal began to melt and fuse, and then, with explosive force, one of the cogs exploded outward, bearing down upon her. Cinder erupted from the center of the melted metal, swooping upward like an angel in flight, and still the gear was coming, flipping end over end. She turned to flee out of the way, but she was not fast enough, and it slammed into her side, knocking her backward. It crushed her under its weight and she hit her back against the broken pillar of the office with a scream, sliding to her knees, barely managing to stay conscious as a black, jagged wave of darkness flickered across her vision.

And with all the strain she had put on it— using her semblance, not being fast enough to avoid heavy hits from Cinder— her Aura buckled and shattered. Pyrrha staggered, gasping under the sudden fatigue that overwhelmed her.

Cinder’s teeth glittered as she bared them, breath rasping harshly in the sudden silence. Pyrrha thought she might be laughing— laughing at the foolish Huntress girl, throwing away her life to buy her kingdom time. “Foolish girl,” she repeated. “Do you honestly think you can win?”

With her Aura expired, everything seemed fuzzy, her limbs suddenly weighed down by heavy exhaustion. She was mortal now. Every strike to hit her would leave a wound. She fought for breath, struggling to her feet, the question bouncing through her skull— but she already knew. Miló was gone, and only Akoúo̱ was left now; she knew she couldn’t win. That wasn’t the purpose of it. She kept fighting anyways, because she had to. For Amber, for Ozpin, for Beacon, for Vale, for the world, for Jaune. She didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, down to the last breath, even when she knew each breath could be her last.

“No,” she breathed, before running before and flinging Akoúo̱ out before her, one final stand.