Chapter XXXIII - When It Falls
Yang
This is her first dream in a while.
Wind rushes around her, screaming and howling; it builds in the trees and skitters across the stones like disembodied voices. Somewhere in the distance, chimes clatter together, sounding nothing so much like a jangling cacophony of wails.
Lights glimmer above, the star-strewn sky like a black sheaf of silk with diamonds spilled across the broad expanse. If it were real, Yang would feel a brief chill, however, in the dream, cold cannot touch her. The concepts of such things are foreign, alien; as unreachable to her as touching the moon.
But she can feel fear.
She walks slowly through the courtyard, very slowly, with the sinking feeling of someone treading to meet their own fate, knowing it may be their demise. Each step carries her thousand miles and a millimeter all at once. She’s gaining ground but unmoving at once.
There’s a figure waiting at the front of the courtyard, a tall figure, a female. Her pale, slender hands are folded tranquilly on the hilt of the sword she bears, which is balanced point-down into the stone. The blade is an unforgettable red. In fact, most of the figure bears red— on her grotesque mask, on her legs, on her clothing. It looks eerily like blood. The comparison doesn’t help to set Yang at ease, and she approaches with every nerve drawn tight.
It’s the figure from the train car, of that she is certain, but who is the figure from the train car? Who is this mysterious guardian and savior? Who came to her aid, saved her from a certain grisly demise? Who would care that much to save her life?
“Who are you?” she whispers, the words hanging in the air. The figure inclines her head, and Yang catches a gleam of scarlet eyes, glittering with intelligence and cunning, like a fox.
She lifts a pale hand to the mask, hesitating before tugging it off. The mask comes off slowly, as if time itself is holding its breath in reverence of the girl. All the breath is knocked out of Yang’s lungs as she sees the young face.
It looks identical to her own, right down to the cold gleam in her red eyes, like Yang is looking in a mirror with all the colors inverted. She opens her mouth to speak, and the words blurt out in her fright, in the sheer fear she feels at being so close to this person, this enigma, this terror.
“It’s you. You saved me. Raven,” she says in horror, before the dream balloons to the size of a house and shatters in a thousand glittering shards.
Yang shot awake to consciousness, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead, chills running down her spine. Raven, she thought dimly, unaware of why she thought it, of why the thought had occurred to her. She tried not to think of her mother, if she could help it. Was I just dreaming of the train-car... or something about it? Yes, I think I was…
She swung herself out of bed, bare feet hitting the floor; the rest of her team was gone, and it was late afternoon in the day, a bright, clear Saturday. They’d allowed her to sleep in. She blinked away the last lingering vestiges of sleep and padded on silent steps to the window, which was flung open, letting a cool breeze in. Yang took a deep breath of the brisk air, feeling the knot in her chest loosen slightly.
Yang tried to remember the dream, but she could not; it was like trying to hold water, and remembering dreams in vivid recall was Blake’s forte, not hers. She remembered a flicker of red eyes and dark hair before it faded, leaving only a dim feeling of uneasiness in its place. Whatever it was, it must have not been a good dream, but speaking of— well, thinking of— my mom…
I saw Raven, she thought to herself, feeling a cold, creeping chill in her veins. At least, I think I saw her… I could have sworn I did. Someone helped me, back in that train car, and saved my life; that girl with the pink and brown hair would have killed me, right? She wouldn’t have been the type to leave a defeated opponent — she was with the White Fang, and they’ve got no honor like that. She would’ve wanted to finish the job, and she would have… if something, if someone, hadn’t interrupted her, and scared her away… And I saw a flash of a red sword and dark hair and then that red light… but it all happened so fast, in the blink of an eye, before it was gone… Might it have been a bit of my imagination?
She shook her head. No. It can’t have been. I wouldn’t have imagined something like that so vividly. I’ll have to search… but I’ll have to forget about it, for now, or it’ll consume me. I’ll push it to the back of my mind until it becomes relevant again… I can’t worry anyone with this. Besides, the Vytal tournament’s coming up, anyways… I can’t afford distractions.
She gripped the window sill, knuckles turning white. I won’t be like my mother.
Buzz! Buzz!
She hastily started as her Scroll gave a tinny buzz, and she reached in her pocket, rummaging until she fished it out. A single face flashed across the screen: Blake, captured in a flustered half-smile, her eyes glowing. The picture had been snapped by Ruby, and Yang was next to her, kissing her cheek: she felt her heart contract for a moment before she hastily opened the message. Her partner had not said much. Only six short words popped up on the screen.
— Meet me where it all began.
Short, cryptic, and totally Blake— but she was nothing if not decipherable, at least to Yang, and she knew immediately where to go. Closing the text, Yang pulled on her boots, stuck her Scroll inside them, and quickly checked her hair in the mirror, before she took off.
The Emerald Forest was a sea of gold, green, and amber in the dying light. Autumn was in full reign now, and the air was brisk and cool, whipping along leaves and twigs in great gusts. Yang jogged down along a beaten path before coming to a stop at a jagged cliffside: sure enough, Blake was sitting there, her hair snapping and folding like a black flag in the wind. She was turned around, so she didn’t see Yang approaching, but as she drew near, her ears twitched behind the bow and she whirled about.
Her eyes softened. “You came. I didn’t know if you’d find me.”
“I can track you, Blake,” Yang pointed out. “We’re Bonded, remember?”
Blake mimicked her frown. “Fair enough.”
Yang clambered down to sit next to her. “Anyways… wow. Back at the beginning, are we? The Emerald Forest… seems like forever ago that we first met, that this all was set into motion… The school year’s over. It’s not a surprise, though; it flew by, huh?”
Blake’s mouth twitched in a small smile as she returned her gaze to the tops of the trees. “You could say that, yes.”
“You’re thinking,” Yang realized as she saw the distant look in Blake’s expression, like she was a hundred worlds away. “I recognize that furrowed-brow look. What’s up, huh?”
Blake’s bow twitched, her ears flattening in displeasure behind the scrap of cloth. “Am I really so transparent?”
“Just to me,” she chirped, tapping Blake on the nose. Her partner narrowed her eyes, looking about as menacing as thistledown; Yang grinned at her before sobering. “But really, a penny for your thoughts?”
“I could simply be thinking about the past,” Blake said evasively, and Yang rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, you could, but you’re not,” she huffed. “Spill.”
“It’s just that— well— must I? This is going to sound stupid.”
Yang met her gaze seriously. “Nothing you say is stupid,” she announced, before tilting her head. “Well, except for the time you said Zwei was a monster. That’s the only stupid thing you’ve said.”
Blake’s eyes rolled heavenward, but she didn’t comment on the last part of Yang’s sentence; she hesitated before rushing out her words. “Well, so much of what has happened between between us was chance. Mere chance, that could have just as easily gone another way, that we may have never met except in passing. It’s a sobering thought.”
Yang frowned at her. “That goes for a lot of things in life. I don’t think it’s coincidence that we met, Blake. I think that it’s part of our destiny. I believe in destiny. Do you?”
“If there really is a Fate out there, controlling our paths so that no matter what we do, the final goal may not be altered…” She shook her head. “It seems like an unbearably cruel idea to me. There have been moments where I believed such an idea might be good, but they’ve gone as quickly as they came, leaving me shaking my head at my own foolishness.”
“I don’t think of destiny like that,” Yang said softly. “And I don’t think you want to think of it as something cruel, do you?”
“Like I’ve said, there have been instances. A few remarkable, fleeting instances…” She looked wistful for a moment, amber eyes clouded. “But it doesn’t matter. We did meet, and that’s that, and I’m happier for it.”
Yang fell silent, the conversation sparking a flurry of new thoughts in her mind. We’re opposites, her and I. And she’s really right, that almost everything we’ve ever done here, or in our lifetimes, has been dependent on chance… unless something else is really ’tweaking the strings’ of our fates…
But that’s what they were, Blake and Yang. The fire and the ashes, the night and the day. Made from happenstance, coincidence— and that was the mystery of it all, that no one knew if anything was ever going to last. If the sun would burn out, if the moon would pull so far away they couldn’t see it anymore. But Yang knew you didn’t stop gazing at the stars out of fear that they wouldn’t be there someday. She’d rather appreciate them while they were there, and make wishes so they lasted.
“You seem a million miles away now, not me,” Blake said to her. “What’s on your mind?”
Yang turned her head sidelong and looked at her, feeling more at ease. “You.”
Blake’s eyes settled on her thoughtfully, studying her face. Yang got the sense that Blake was looking at her, really looking at her, and seeing her for who she was, all her flaws and hopes and wishes and dreams.
“I love you,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ve told you that when we weren’t in a desperate race for our lives, or mending ourselves. There’s no one I’d rather be partnered with.”
“I love you, too.” Yang smiled at her. “And I agree. Even if you can be infuriating.”
Blake rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m very flattered.”
Yang shifted her eyes to look out over the forest, over the sea of colors, the leaves whispering together in the wind. She remembered a year back, when she had soared over the tops of those trees, so high she could almost touch the sky.
"What was your landing strategy?"
Blake’s eyes shifted over to her, her thumb rubbing absentminded circles on her palm. “What?”
“I’m just thinking about my own," Yang murmured. She closed her eyes, summoning the memory back; she remembered arrowing over the tops of those trees, feeling the wind rush in her ears. Coming to Beacon at all had been a turning point for her, like flying, with the wind whipping at her hair and face. She did get some pretty good distance— partially for the thrill, but mostly as a challenge to herself. She wanted to go farther and faster, leaving everyone else in the dust as she touched the sky. And then— and always— the one and only person who caught up to her had been Blake. "It took like— what, a few minutes for us to meet up? For you to choose me, really.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you were screeching like banshee and terrorizing every Grimm in the vicinity as you made your way through the forest,” Blake responded with a nonchalant shrug. “You weren’t inconspicuous. It wasn't hard to find you. As for deciding to willingly partner myself with someone who appeared so… enthusiastic… that was another matter entirely.”
Yang sprouted a teasing grin and leaned forward, balancing as she crossed her legs. “Holy Nevermore. Blake Belladonna, were you actually looking for me?"
To Blake’s credit, she didn't get flustered, and even possessed a similar expression. "You just happened to stand out more."
"Thanks… I think. But you didn't answer my other question.”
"My landing strategy?" With a hint of mischief, Blake answered, “Truly, I just used my weapon to hook the branches of the trees and swing myself safely down to the ground… but it didn't matter. I always land on my feet when I’m with you.”
Yang flushed at the sincerity of the statement, and she smiled, putting her hand over Blake’s as their fingers intertwined, as natural as the sun falling in the sky. “You know what? This is finally— we finally get to relax and just— be. We’ve come so far. Sometimes I wake up and I remember what we once used to be — those days on the cliff, the shipyard, the forest, all the trouble and heartache we’ve gone to, just to get here now. It’s unreal, but at the same time, it’s the realest thing I’ve ever done or felt. And maybe that sounds cheesy. I don’t know. But I think other than coming here and meeting you guys— I mean, you’re all my family now, really. You and Weiss and Ruby. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Blake’s eyes were glimmering orbs of molten gold in the full force of the light. “I wouldn’t change a thing either,” she said, “except, perhaps, to have come to my senses sooner.”
Yang blinked at her, remembering the night she had held Blake, fragile as a broken-winged bird, on the abandoned highway as the rubble of metal shone in the moonlight. She had never been so scared, never had the full force of realization crash down on her so absolutely: I cannot lose her; I love her. “And that means?”
Blake’s face turned, eyelashes casting long, spidery shadows down over her angular cheeks, dark hair edged in the light of flame. “I should have realized how much I loved you sooner.” She turned her face sidelong, and Yang glanced at her: the little silver scars trailing down her skin that, to another person, would have made her imperfect, but to Yang, made her who she was— a part of the person she loved the most in the whole world. “You used to get under my skin so entirely when I first met you,” she said. “It was perplexing. And infuriating.”
“What about now?”
“Now it just makes me love you more, that you somehow always manage to find the real me. Even when I don’t know who that is, you always manage to. When I am with you, even if it’s in the middle of a warzone, I know who I am. And Yang… I always want you by my side. Beyond Beacon, beyond these four years… wherever we might end up… as long as it’s together, I think I’ll be okay… you know that, don’t you?”
Yang squeezed her hand tighter in answer, and Blake’s smile was easy and light as the stars dawning above, curling higher on one side than the other: her real smile, unforced. “The Vytal Festival is so soon. It’s another chapter we’re beginning in this great story of life… but I want to spend every page with you.”
Yang leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth, lingering, before she smiled. “Books, of course, I should have known you would relate to them. Don’t worry. We’ve got all the time in the world, you and me, you know that?”
“I know it.”
Yang tightened her arms around her as the sun finally sank below the horizon, shooting rays of light upward and mixing with the stars, painting a gold mosaic across the heavens, like angels fallen from the sky.
???
In a few month’s time, it would all be gone.
She looked out over the shining, glorified land of Vale, at the lakes and towns, the crimson woods and emerald forests, the city and the great, spiring summit of Beacon Tower. Soon, it would be vanquished, and darkness would reign supreme.
And she would be empowered under that darkness. Her name would be spoken with reverence and fear. She would be strong; powerful; feared… and she could achieve all she wanted and all she needed. Her eye blazed with fire, with true flame likened to that of Autumn; she had a chunk of power now, but it wasn’t enough… for that, she needed all of the Maiden’s light. And she would become a god, a god among the living; she would be a legend; her own hunger for power had twisted her, so that in her mind, she was a towering figure who blotted out the light of even the stars.
For her Master, she would succeed, she swore it.
The woman uncurled her fingers from her wrist, watching her veins fade from a torturous black, to red, to the faintest shimmer of blue. Her Master had set everything in motion, and the flaws that had happened thus far were too inconsequential to be of any matter.
Now, she only need to tip the first domino and they would be the cause of their own destruction. And she would sit back and watch— and savor it, savor watching them fall, divide themselves, and burn.
Yes, she thought, looking out over the crumbling city. Let them think they have their hope and their happiness. Let them cling to their legends, their guardians and saviors. Let them hold onto a false tranquility. That will make our victory of their destruction all the sweeter. They do not know how they will divide and burn in the end, but it is coming, the night of mankind.
The sun slid below the horizon, giving way to the darkness of night, and Cinder Fall’s eyes flickered with an unnatural fire like autumn, a cold promise within them.
They do not know that when the final warning comes, it will be too late.
It is already too late.
END OF BOOK I