Chapter Text
At the brink of dawn…
They had gathered, Ozma and his four Maidens, at the peak of Ardero, when the world was still and quiet. The sun peeked over the horizon in search of a new day, while below the city slept and healed and perched on the edge of anticipation for the battles still to come.
“My Maidens,” he said in greeting.
The looks he received in turn were varied. Curiosity mixed with surprise, disgust mixed with indifference. They were not the four he would have chosen, but they were the four that he had here, now.
“It has been a long, long time since we all met together like this.”
He looked at them, his gaze lingering on each; Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter. Yet it was not the four individuals he saw now, but all of them. Hundreds and hundreds in a long line of women, each passing down the power onto another, keeping the magic alive, keeping it safe until, until…
“You’re wondering why I brought you here,” he said. “You’re wondering if it will even be enough, this power I gave you, so long ago.”
They were wondering that. Some had been longer than others. The truth of it, of Salem, sitting heavy in their hearts for so many long, lonely years.
“The truth is,” said Ozma and ignored the flash of disbelief that crossed more than one Maiden’s face, “it won’t be. Not for what you want. Not for what we need.”
He paused and looked at them again. He had pictured this moment so many times over the years, the decades, the centuries. So much planning and scheming and waiting, carefully laid pieces across the board, all while making sure she never found out the truth.
“But you do have a plan?” said Summer. Her gaze was narrowed, silver slits that stared coldly out at him.
He had thought - he had hoped - that out of all of them, she would be the one to understand. The loneliness, the burden he had to carry. The sacrifices that had to be made.
Ozma nodded. He would have to do this carefully, slowly. Make them understand, make them believe. Any other four and that would have been easier.
So many things had fallen from his grasp. So many things he could not control.
“Have you ever considered,” he asked them, “why four is such a common number in our world?”
The four women in front of him stared at him blankly.
“Four Maidens,” he smiled faintly at them. “Four relics.” He took the sword from his hip and stared down at its blunted edge. “Four kingdoms, four elite academies; each training Huntsman and Huntresses in teams of four.
“This last was not a coincidence, but rather by design. My design.”
They were frowning now, his four Maidens.
“You see,” he continued. “I have been searching for four rather unique individuals. Searching for a very long time. Twenty years ago, I believed that I had found them.”
His eyes flickered to Summer and Spring, who shifted uneasily where they stood side by side. Unmindful, they had reached for each other; fingertips brushing together before pulling apart.
“I was wrong,” he said. “But now… Now I believe I have found them. The four individuals. The four who work so well together that they are almost a whole, yet each represents a single aspect of humanity… Four parts of a whole.”
*
Yi or righteousness, our means of acting for what is morally right…
Yang scrambled backwards and it was all she could do to hold on as the dragon roared and tore through the sky.
She’d watched Blake fall, saw the glyphs Weiss sent to slow her descent and had to trust that Blake had made it down okay. Had to…
Have to reach the heads, she thought. There was no time for her teammates to come help. She was on her own and the city was burning.
Yang began to run.
The rushing wind, the dragon’s two heads with their never ending screech and furnace of flames made her ears ring and ache. But she kept on running, finally reaching the neck.
The smaller, but no less ferocious head, its scales a dark purple and larger than a fucking door. She’d have to climb, Yang realised, if she wanted to reach the eyes and hopefully, hopefully, do some damage.
Yang started to climb. Her fingers dug painfully into the edge of the scale, the toes of her boots struggling to find purchase. But she pulled herself up anyway, letting the solid metal of her prosthetic do the hard work even as it strained painfully at her stump, even as the fingers of her other hand began to bleed.
Blood red and slick and she was slipping, slipping.
“Fuck,” she shouted and landed with a heavy thud onto her backside. “Fuck.”
“Yang.”
She hadn’t noticed the red light of Raven’s portal, hadn’t realised she was being watched.
“Help me,” she panted, not daring to lean over the edge and look down at the burning city below where all her friends were, her parents, her sister, Blake… She didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to know how much they had already lost.
Raven shook her head and Yang gritted her teeth. She was stupid to have asked, stupid to assume that Raven would ever help her.
Then Oscar’s voice boomed around them and Yang’s eyes widened.
“Yang, there’s not much time.”
And then Raven told her Ozma’s plan.
“I…” said Yang and looked down at her wrist, at the purple cloth she had tied around it so eagerly the night before. “I’ll do it.”
“Yang… You don’t know what this means. What he’s asking of you-”
“Yes, I do.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Raven snapped. “I can open a portal right now. Take us both far away from here. Somewhere she can’t find us. Somewhere we can be safe.”
“What?” said Yang hotly.
“Let me do this for you,” said Raven. “This one thing.”
Yang shook her head, unable to believe the words she was hearing. “Now you want to be a parent? Now you want to do something for me?”
It’s too late. It’s all too late.
“I-”
“No,” said Yang. “I’m not like you. I’m not going to run.”
“No,” said Raven, resigned. Her shoulders slumped and maybe it was defeat, maybe it was sadness. Yang couldn’t tell. “I guess you’re not.”
*
Zhi or wisdom, our ability to take knowledge and experience and judge rightly in matters of life and conduct, with a compassion for all…
Blake flung Gambol Shroud, its ribbon rattling in the wind; but it was already too late, she’d already fallen too far, was falling too fast, and it only swung uselessly in the air before falling back towards her.
Then, suddenly, she was slowing.
Weiss’ black gravity glyphs controlling her fall until she landed on the ground with a careful thud.
Wide eyed, Blake watched Weiss. Still in the air, still upon her Queen Lancer. Even from a distance, Blake could tell Weiss was exhausted. The ghostly form of the lancer began to flicker and fade until she too began to plummet to the ground.
Blake was helpless to do anything but watch as Weiss and her summons disappeared from view behind a flaming building.
More fire was raining down from the sky and everywhere around Blake was smoke and chaos.
Yang’s still up there, she thought, trying to quench the panic in her heart as she began to run.
She was still running when she heard it. A voice booming out across the city, the desert, across the entire kingdom.
And she knew the voice. Knew the boy it belonged to, and the man that had taken it over.
Salem, said Oscar as if over a speaker, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the dragon, to be heard by everyone and Blake knew it could only have been done by magic. Stop this. Leave Vacuo and its citizens alone. Spare them… and I’ll give you what you want.
“No!” Blake shouted as the voice faded to an echo.
“Blake,” someone called from behind her.
She whirled around, searching, searching, hoping for one of her teammates, her parents, hoping for Yang…
But it was Emerald Sustrai that approached her out of the swirling smoke, eyes aflame with her own kind of magic.
“I need you to come with me,” said the Fall Maiden and held out a hand.
*
Li or propriety, doing what must be done in a true and proper manner…
Weiss was so tired of watching her teammates fall.
So she sent glyph after glyph towards Blake until she slowed, until she landed safely, even as it drained the aura from her, leaving her weak, her concentration wavering.
Her summoned Queen Lancer began to fade between her thighs, her grip upon its back weakening. It was like grasping at a cloud and oh how quickly she was the one plummeting to the ground.
She had just enough energy to soften her fall. Panting, the gravity glyph faded from beneath her.
Weiss struggled to get on her knees, nevermind her feet. She tried to breathe, a long deep breath, and inhaled a lungful of smoke that left her choking. The air was thick with it, stinging her eyes and she could see nothing more than a foot in front of her.
If she didn’t move, she would die here, choke until her lungs filled, until the fires reached her. So Weiss gathered her strength and got to her feet, swaying and sick.
People were screaming and shouting and it was like it was coming from everywhere, all around her. The people of Vacuo, all those refugees from Atlas and Mantle. They’d risked everything to save them, to bring them here, lost so much in the process, and now they were all going to burn alive.
Weiss’ eyes began to stream. She told herself it was just the smoke, that she didn’t have time to cry, had no time to give in to despair. She had spent the whole night crying, surely she was done, surely she was spent? She wiped at her face angrily and gripped at her sword and wished, wished…
“Weiss?”
“Winter!” she sobbed in relief and there was her sister, coming down from the sky, eyes bright and blue with magic. A gust of wind cleared the smoke from around them as Winter landed gracefully beside her, taking Weiss’ hands in hers.
“Weiss, I need you to listen to me very carefully.”
And then there was Oscar’s voice, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying, couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.
Winter’s hand was oddly cool where it cupped Weiss’ cheek. She made Weiss look at her and for the first time Weiss Schnee saw fear, saw doubt, in her sister’s eyes.
“You’re going to have to make a choice,” said Winter and told her everything.
*
And lastly, Jen or benevolence. That deepest, most sacred part of humanity: pure love…
Ruby Rose craned her neck up at the sky, staring at this mockery of the Gods that Salem had created.
Stared and knew that it couldn’t be stopped, that they were all going to burn, they were all going to-
She closed her eyes, taking a deep, long breath. Counted them. One, two, three, four…
The choice can only be your own.
Ruby opened her eyes and the dragon was still above her, still breathing its fire onto the city, scorching the desert sand into glass.
“Ruby.”
She smelled her before she heard her. Sweet and floral. White rose petals floated to the ground and Ruby caught one in the palm of her hand, felt its soft velvety texture.
“You know why I’m here, don’t you, sweetheart?” said her mom.
Ruby nodded, slipping her hand inside her pocket. The crown was still there, its broken pieces cool and sharp against her fingertips. The choice can only be your own… It was time.
She took Summer’s hand and let her teleport them away.
*
Dawn…
“I think you all know by now,” said Ozma, “that Salem cannot be killed, cannot be destroyed. But what she can be… is contained.”
“How?” asked Winter, but the look on her face spoke the truth, could not hide what she already knew, what she had guessed before the rest of them.
“Why,” said Ozma, “within four such individuals.”
“That,” snarled Spring, “is insane.”
Ozma turned his gaze upon her. Spring, the representation of life and growth. How far she had fallen, he thought sadly.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, somewhat ineptly. “But do you have a better idea? A means to stop her that I, over hundreds, thousands of lives, have failed to glean?”
Spring only stared coldly at him, saying nothing.
He did not mistake her silence for acceptance. She would be the hardest to convince, the last to yield.
It was then that the beast came. Roaring down from the sky, its two heads breathing fire in a synchronized, never ending stream.
For a moment, Ozma stood frozen. For a moment, he thought it was too late. That the Gods had returned to judge them all.
His grip tightened upon the hilt of the sword in his hands and he remembered that the Relic of Destruction was still theirs, that the crown was shattered, that his Maidens had returned to him.
Remembered that everything he had ever done, everything he had planned for across the centuries, over the course of so many lives, was all leading to this moment, to this point in time while the world burned beneath him, while Salem…
She was coming, he could feel it. Feel her.
“Please,” he said, “there’s not much time.” He looked carefully at each of his Maidens. “You all know of which four individuals I speak.”
One by one they nodded. Fall was the last to understand, but the look she finally gave him was full of faith, of a trust he did not deserve.
“Good,” said Ozma and told them of what he intended. Of the sacrifices they would all have to make.
*
At the end of the world…
Summer, bringing Ruby, were the first to arrive on the mountain peak where Ozma was waiting. Then Fall with Blake, Winter with Weiss.
“Guys…” said Ruby, her voice unsteady. There were tears in her eyes that were yet to fall. “I didn’t want - you didn’t have to-”
“Yes we did,” said Weiss sharply. Then, more softly: “You knew. That we would have to make this choice.”
Blake looked between her two teammates, her gaze hardening slightly when Ruby nodded.
“Where…” Ozma muttered. He gripped the sword at his hip, his gaze wildly searching the horizon. He needed all four of them if this was going to work. He needed-
A flash of red and out of the swirling mass came Yang, Spring reluctantly on her heels.
“Thank you,” he said. “I know this decision wasn’t easy, for any of you.”
None of them spoke, but he could feel the contempt, the resentment. He had lied too many times, kept so many things from them. But it had to be done, it was the only way.
He’d told Oscar that, near the end, when the merging happened so fast neither of them could stop it. When the boy finally understood why Ozma did the things he did, hid the things he had.
Understood and was horrified.
He felt it now. A part of him that recoiled from the four girls he had brought here, recoiling from the act he was about to perform.
Yet it was the only way.
I’m sorry, Oscar, he thought and somewhere deep, deep inside him, faint and weak now: Not me. Them. Apologise to them.
But he couldn’t. It was too late for that.
He looked at the four of them, looked at his Maidens, and could only hope that, one day, they would find it within themselves to forgive him.
Vacuo still burned below, the dragon circling overhead. Minutes had passed since his message had been sent across the desert. She would have heard by now. She should have-
The dragon suddenly vanished from existence and he knew Salem was coming, that the time had come.
He turned to find eight sets of eyes on him, but it was only four he searched for, it was only Ruby’s he lingered on. “I…” he began. “I need you all to say it.”
“I’ll do it,” said Weiss firmly, her gaze not leaving her leader’s. Next to her, Winter closed her eyes and ducked her head, but said nothing of protest.
Yang and Blake stared at each other. Yang’s jaw firmly set, eyes shining with unshed tears. Blake fingered the cloth at her wrist as she openly cried.
Together they said, “I’ll do it.”
Finally, Ruby Rose looked at her teammates. Her sister, her friends, her family. “I never wanted this,” she whispered. “I only wanted…”
“To do the right thing,” said Blake.
“To save the world,” said Yang.
“It’s why we’re all here, Ruby,” said Weiss. “You led us here and we all followed you. Because we wanted to. Because we trust you. Because we… Because we love you.”
“I…” Ruby said faintly. “I’ll do it. We’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” said Ozma.
There was no more time to say anything else. He could feel it now, clear as the breeze through his hair, the sun on his skin. That darkness rushing up to meet him.
And then Salem was before them, staff in her hands and lamp at her waist. In her arrogance, she had come alone.
Good, Ozma thought. It would make things easier, without having to contend with Grimm, with those lost souls she had twisted into following her cause.
“Ozma.” Sharp red eyes looked from him to the audience behind him. “What is this? A trap?” she said amusedly. “You really believe your Maidens and four little girls can stop me?”
“Actually,” said Ozma, “I do.”
He lunged at her with his cane. Held the shaft of it at her throat as they both went crashing to the ground.
“Now!” he shouted and felt the blast of power from his Maidens.
Beneath him, Salem laughed. “You can’t kill me, Ozma.”
Ozma grunted, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. “I’m not. Trying. To kill.” He sucked in a breath as he felt the clothes burn from him, his flesh beginning to blister. “You.”
Something was wrong. He did not dare look away from the red poison of Salem’s eyes as they clouded with understanding. But he had to know, he had to see. If they failed now, there would never be another chance. Never.
The silver, blue and red light of Summer, Winter and Fall poured forth from his Maidens, into him - through him. While Spring stood and watched, head shaking as she stared between them.
“Raven!” Summer shouted.
A last look at her daughter, a last bitter shake of her head and she took Yang’s hand, raised the other and let the magic burst forth.
Ozma screamed. In his head, Oscar, Ozpin and all the rest cried out.
The magic tore into him, sluicing skin and muscle from his bones.
The shaft of his cane lit up in a bright, golden light. It reflected in Salem’s red, red eyes, wide now with a fear she had not felt in eons.
Still the beams of red, silver, blue and red again flowed into him, through him, into the cane he had kept with him for countless lives.
And he unleashed it.
Salem did not scream, did not seethe a promise of revenge.
He saw her then as she had been. Light blue eyes and hair as pale as straw and so, so soft as he ran his fingers through it.
Then she was gone, like a candle’s flame, easily doused, vanishing in a puff of smoke as the bright, blinding light of his cane expanded, encompassing them both.
Outside, eight people watched, horrified. But the Maidens did not stop, continuing as they had been instructed by the wizard who had granted them this power so many years ago. Even as the magic tore him open, tore him apart, disintegrating every atom of his being.
The magic flowed along four beams, bright with colour and then… it began to flow back.
A darkness pulsed along them. Each Maiden let out a gasp as they felt it go through them, icy and burning all at once, a sickening thing that they couldn’t wait to be rid of. It passed through each of them, along the hands they had each joined with one of the four.
Then the darkness left them, as quickly as it had reached them. Sucking all the magic from each of the Maidens as it sought the four souls that would house its shattered pieces forever more.
*
While the world burned…
“But you must understand,” said Ozma, “they must understand. This choice can only be their own. This sacrifice theirs to bear. So stay with them, guide them. Make them remember that they are not alone. Let them hold onto what it means to be loved, to be whole. But when all is said and done, in order for this to work, you must keep them apart.”
“For how long?” asked Summer.
And Ozma replied, “Forever.”