Chapter Text
Summer could feel the wind beneath her wings.
The cold night air rushed past her feathers, the high drafts lifting her higher and carrying her farther than she had expected. The sky was dark and wide above the burning horizon, and for a moment the simple act of flying almost felt… peaceful.
Almost.
Still, it wasn’t just the wind helping her.
Normally Summer would never have been able to fly this close to an Elder Grimm. Even if Grimm tended to ignore ordinary animals, the Griffons and Nevermores that always gathered around creatures of that magnitude would have spotted her immediately. They would have swooped down the moment her white feathers caught the moonlight.
Which they always did.
It was deeply unfair that Raven and Qrow had been born with those sleek black, obsidian feathers while Summer looked like some sort of albino crow every time she transformed.
At least she wasn’t a pigeon. Thighs could always go wronger she thought.
Still, something was wrong.
The Nevermores circling below weren’t hunting. They weren’t even reacting. Convoys moved across distant roads, and a few airships cut cautiously through the sky, yet the Grimm paid them no mind.
They simply drifted along with the tide.
Peaceful.
The thought alone felt unnatural.
Summer had taken flight the moment word reached Beacon that a Grimm wave of this size was forming. The reports had come fast and confused — villages disappearing, entire forests going silent, sightings of something massive moving at the heart of the swarm.
Ozpin had told her to wait. To gather more information. To prepare. But she couldn’t.
Waiting at Beacon had become unbearable. Sitting still while knowing what this wave would do —how many towns it would erase, how many families it would break— made the decision painfully simple.
She couldn’t stay. Not at Beacon. Not at home. Not with everything else pressing down on her chest.
She couldn’t drag Tai into something like this. Not when little Yang was still so small, barely old enough to stand.
Qrow was somewhere in Vacuo on one of Ozpin’s endless ‘recon missions.’
And Raven…
Summer forced her thoughts away from that name, though they returned anyway.
Raven she simply couldn’t face.
Not when Raven had everything Summer had spent her whole life dreaming about —and still looked at it like it was a burden. The man Summer had loved for years. A beautiful little girl. A family that was slowly growing, slowly becoming something warm and real.
Raven had it all. And she treated it like nothing.
So Summer had done the only thing she knew how to do when her heart started hurting too much. She ran straight toward danger.
It was reckless. She knew it was reckless. Flying alone into something like this was the kind of mistake that got Huntsmen stronger and more experienced than her killed.
But staying in the corner seeing her love play with a child not hers while the woman that had it all scowled from the seat she dreamed of having had felt worse.
Below her stretched an ocean of Grimm.
Black fur rippled like waves in the dark. Bone-white plating caught flashes of silver moonlight. Thousands of crimson eyes burned through the night like scattered embers.
The swarm moved as one living tide, crawling across the land with slow, terrible purpose.
And near the center of it all— Summer spotted the Elder.
It was an aberration. Something so wrong that Summer had no proper name for it.
She had been expecting a Behemoth. Perhaps even a Great Dragon— something ancient and terrible, but at least familiar in its horror.
But this…
This snake-bodied monstrosity twisted across the clearing like a nightmare that had forgotten what shape it was supposed to take. Its long, scaled body coiled through the shattered trees, while its upper half bulged with mismatched limbs and slick, tar-black tentacle growths that pulsed like open wounds.
It didn’t matter what it was.
It would die here.
High above the clearing, Summer Rose burst from a cloud of rose petals as her semblance released her back into solid form. Wind screamed past her as gravity seized hold. With a sharp crack of her weapon firing, she turned the fall into a full blown strike.
Her axe—Sundered Rose— roared to life beneath her grip. The recoil blasted her downward like a falling star, transforming her into a small comet of silver steel and burning momentum.
The axe head angled perfectly.
One clean blow. Decapitation. Simple. That was the plan, deal with the big one and then hunt down all the alphas.
What she hadn’t expected was the way the creature reacted.
The moment the blade neared its neck, the red gash running along its back erupted in a cluster of thick, tar-like tentacles— black and glistening like liquid shadow. They snapped forward with terrifying speed, twisting around one another to form a writhing shield.
Summer’s strike hit them head-on. The steel biting deep. Several of the tendrils parted under the blow, spraying foul black ichor into the air.
But there were too many interlaced ones. The tangled mass absorbed the worst of the strike, slowing the axe just enough that it failed to even reach the monster’s neck.
The creature’s head snapped toward her.
Four burning red eyes locked onto her with immediate, murderous focus.
Its response was instant.
From its chest a cluster of bone-white arms— too long, too thin, and bent at far too many joints. They unfolded like snapping traps, shooting toward her with spear-like fingers aimed directly for her heart.
Summer twisted midair.
Her body folded around the attack with Huntsman precision, boots barely touching the ground as she redirected the momentum into a backward roll.
One clawed fingertip scraped across her Aura. A flash of light flickered over her skin.
Just a scratch.
She slid to a stop several meters away, already moving.
Sundered Rose shifted in her hands with a sharp series of metallic clicks, the long axe handle collapsing and rotating as the weapon transformed into its rifle configuration.
Summer dropped to one knee.
The barrel came up. Her sights centered on the creature’s skull.
One shot would take its head clean off. She didn’t know if her dust bullet would be enough, but any damage would go a long way here.
Her finger began to tighten on the trigger—
And then she heard it.
A child’s cry. Small. Terrified. Close.
“Now look what you have done.” The voice sounded like an open crypt speaking.
It slid over itself, layered and hollow, as if several echoes were trying to speak through the same ruined throat. The sound sent a shiver so deep into Summer’s soul that —for the first time since she had taken up her weapon— she felt the instinct to flee.
The creature had spoken. Not with broken imitation. Not the guttural mimicry of Mimics or the distorted calls of Sirens.
It had spoken clearly. With a mouth full of far too many fangs. With a throat that had never been meant to shape human words.
And in the nest of its many pale, twisted arms, it was gently rocking a small blue bundle.
Summer’s breath caught.
It’s a baby. Why does it have a baby?!
Panic burned through the paralysis gripping her muscles. She couldn’t freeze now. She couldn’t let the monster keep the advantage— not when a child’s life hung in the balance.
“Sleep, little one,” the creature murmured, the voice scraping like tombstones grinding together. “Our journey is still long.”
The tone was almost soft.
Almost.
It might have sounded feminine, once, but the distortion warped it beyond anything human.
“LET HIM GO!” Summer shouted, her voice tearing through the night.
The creature tilted its head slightly, as though puzzled.
“Dropping a baby would hardly qualify as proper care, little Rose,” it replied calmly. “I would expect better judgment from someone like you.”
Summer’s stomach tightened. It knew her.
How?
It didn’t matter. The thing was playing some kind of game, and she needed to figure out the rules fast. The child’s life depended on it.
“You don’t need him!” she called, tightening her grip on her weapon. “Let the baby go!”
“Interestingly enough…” the creature’s many fanged mouths curved into something resembling a smile, “…I do need him.”
“What could you possibly want with a baby?!” Summer shot back, dreading what terrible things could be the answer. “Whatever it is, take me instead! Let him go!”
She didn’t want to die. But she’d stand a far better chance of escaping if the child was safe first.
“And what use would I have for you?” the creature mused. “Ending the scourge of the Silver Eyes might be tempting… but not at such a steep price.”
Summer’s thoughts jolted.
It knows about my eyes.
Then the realization struck.
Wait…
“And what would your master say,” Summer pressed quickly, “if she found out you let me go because of a baby?”
It was a gamble, but it made sense. This monstrosity had to be one of the demented Grimm Queen’s creations. Salem had hunted the Rose bloodline for generations— and if this monster knew her name and about her eyes? It had to be hunting her.
Summer could make herself the better prize.
The creature watched her quietly. Then it chuckled.
“She would say the exact same thing,” the voice rasped.
The monster leaned forward slightly, red eyes gleaming in the firelight.
“Who do you think I am, little Rose?”
“I don’t care!” Summer snapped. “I don’t care what Salem named you, or what your purpose is! Just let the kid go!”
“Stop screaming.” The command fell like a stone into still water. “If you wake him again,” the creature continued calmly, “I will rip you limb from limb.”
The promise was delivered with such quiet certainty that Summer believed it immediately.
This wasn’t working. She had no idea what to do! The creature clearly didn’t want her— but why? Why would a baby matter more than the last Silver-Eyed Warrior alive?
Slowly, cautiously, Summer lowered her rifle.
Not completely. Not enough that she couldn’t fire if she had to.
Before, she had aimed for the monster’s head. Now she shifted the angle slightly toward its side. The child was too close to the creature’s face— too close to risk a sudden movement sending a bullet somewhere it didn’t belong.
“Why do you want him?” she asked.
The creature’s smile returned, slow and mocking. “That, is a remarkably long answer, Rose. Do you truly have the time for it?”
Summer’s focus had been entirely on the child. Too focused.
Her eyes flicked outward— and the world suddenly grew much worse.
To her left, just beyond the clearing’s edge, something massive shifted among the trees.
A Spriggan. The Geist-class Grimm towered over the undergrowth, its body wrapped in bark and splintered wood. The antlers rising from its skull twisted like dead branches, large enough to mark it as at least an Alpha.
One of the last Grimm anyone wanted to ever encounter in a forest.
And to her right a massive Alpha Beowolf stepped from the shadows. Bone spikes jutted from its shoulders and spine, while thick strands of tar-dark fur hung along its body like rotting banners.
Summer’s stomach sank.
Fuck! I pulled a Raven.
She had rushed in without thinking. No planning. No backup. No strategy. If Qrow ever heard about this, he would never let her live it down.
If I survive this.
“Stop that.” The creature’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “If I wanted you dead,” it continued calmly, “I could have the entire horde here within minutes.”
Its many red eyes watched her without blinking.
“The only reason you are still breathing is the noise you would’ve made… and the fact that I have known others like you.”
Summer shifted slightly, trying to keep both Alpha Grimm and the creature within her sightline. The rifle remained half-raised, her muscles tight with readiness.
She tilted her head slightly.
“Others like me?”
“Yes,” Its many pale arms curled more tightly around the blue blankets, sheltering the child. “You true heroes are always the same.” Its red gaze narrowed slightly. “You would fight until the last drop of blood for even the smallest chance of stealing him away.”
“I’m not—” The protest died in Summer’s throat.
The Alpha Beowolf to her right snarled low and hungry, and the creature’s red eyes narrowed ever so slightly. The warning was immediate and unmistakable.
Summer swallowed and forced her voice lower.
“I’m not trying to steal him,” she said carefully. “I’m trying to save him.”
“He belongs to me!” For the first time since the conversation began, the words carried something other than mockery or quiet cruelty. There was weight behind them. A sharp, possessive certainty that made Summer’s chest tighten.
Not rage. Not pride. Need.
Nothing about this made sense.
“I can see the confusion on your face, Rose,” the creature continued, its voice slipping back into that cold, scraping calm. “Ozma hasn’t told you nearly enough, has he?” The name dripped from its mouth like poison. The long tail behind it coiled and twitched at the sound, the motion sharp with irritation. “A willing but unknowing pawn in an ancient game.”
Ozma? Did it mean Ozpin?
“What game?” Summer demanded, though the question only made the confusion in her head grow louder. Every word the creature spoke twisted the situation further out of shape. Was that the point? Was it trying to rattle her?
No. That didn’t fit. If it were as powerful and smart as it seemed, it could have taken her down the moment she landed. This strange conversation didn’t look like a distraction.
It looked like… expectation.
“I’m not a pawn in anyone’s game,” Summer shot back, the protest sounding weaker than she intended. Almost childish.
The creature tilted its head slightly. “Then who am I?”
Summer blinked. What did that have to do with anything?
Think, Summer.
Her thoughts scrambled to connect the pieces.
It thought she was Ozma’s pawn. The name was too close to Ozpin to be coincidence. And Ozpin had admitted more than once that he had been fighting a secret war for Remnant longer than most.
Maybe Ozma was an alias? Or a name he used in his youth.
The first pieces began to settle into place.
If this was about Ozpin, then it wasn’t about her secrets. The Silver Eyes weren’t part of this. Ozpin’s secrets, on the other hand… those were endless. Summer was fairly sure she could spend the next ten years guessing and still miss half of them.
But the creature wanted an answer. Which meant it believed she had one.
The secrets her team had been trusted with were few. But they were… world-shattering.
The Maidens? No. Even if this thing hunted them, that wouldn’t explain the question.
Her mind raced through the rest.
The Relics. The Vaults. The ancient magic Ozpin sometimes hinted at.
The strange network of agents, headmasters and huntsmen he called the Yellow Brick Road?
None of them fit. None of them explained this.
A cold realization crept down her spine.
No…
Her eyes widened as she truly looked at the creature before her.
Not just the too many fanged mouth. Not the countless pale and deformed writhing arms. Not the long serpentine body and its back full of tar like tentacles.
The intelligence. The history behind its words. The quiet hatred when it spoke Ozma’s name.
“Ah~ finally.” The creature’s serpentine body shifted, coiling in on itself until the massive black arms supporting its torso were no longer needed. With unsettling grace, it straightened and inclined forward in a mockery of a noble bow.
“I am Salem Aurelius Rhea Cineres,” it said with the weight of ages. “Last blood of my house. Last Queen of my people.” Its voice lowered further, the words settling like a curse across the clearing. “And the ordained nightmare of Remnant.”
As the draconic head dipped, something else became visible.
A woman’s face.
It rested upon the monstrous skull like a mask carved from flawless white marble—beautiful, serene, utterly out of place atop the horror beneath it.
Then the eyes opened.
And when they fixed upon her, Summer felt her hands begin to tremble despite herself.
“An absolute pleasure to finally meet you~” Salem said softly, the smile beneath the mask unmistakably cruel.
Salem…. She was standing in front of the Grimm Queen.
I’m so dead…
“It is rude not to introduce oneself, Rose,” the monster said, its voice curling with quiet amusement.
“You already know me.” That much, Summer was certain of.
“Very true.” The creature’s many eyes gleamed faintly. “Your team did cost me the last of my council. Poor Mirranda fell to the twins, if I recall.”
Summer’s jaw tightened.
Mirranda Vermillion. The terror of Vale’s seas. Her pirate armada had choked entire trade routes for years, raiding shipping lanes between Vale and Atlas like a storm that refused to die. Even now, both kingdoms were still trying to dismantle what remained of her fleet. But the woman herself had fallen to Qrow’s sword barely a month ago.
Salem tilted her head slightly. “But now we arrive at a crossroads,” she continued. “What will you do now, little Rose?”
What could she do? Ozpin had always been clear about one thing: fighting Salem directly was impossible.
He had never explained why.
Looking at the creature before her, Summer felt she had finally found the answer.
But what if…? What if he had been wrong? What if her eyes— her power— could end this? Rid Remnant of its oldest nightmare.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the rifle as the familiar warmth began to gather behind her eyes.
She wouldn’t survive it.
She would have to push everything she had into the attack. Every drop of aura, every ounce of power. Enough to ensure Salem didn’t rise again. And when it was over, she would be left exhausted. Auraless. Surrounded by a Grimm horde that stretched to the horizon.
Easy prey.
“None of that now.” Salem’s voice cut through her thoughts like a blade. “I can feel your magic coalescing, child.”
Summer froze.
“It will not kill me,” Salem continued calmly. “But it will kill the child… and everything around us.”
“You’re bluffing,” Summer snapped. “Silver Eyes only affect Grimm.”
“Correct.” Salem’s smile widened. “More specifically, they turn Grimm to brittle stone.” Her head tilted ever so slightly. “Now tell me, Rose… what happens to a baby when several tons of stone collapse on top of him?”
Summer’s breath caught. Her eyes darted to the many pale arms holding the blue bundle.
Could she do it? One child… for the death of Remnant’s greatest monster. Many would call that a bargain. Many would make that choice without hesitation. Summer Rose couldn’t.
“And that does not even account for what would happen to my horde,” Salem continued mildly. “Tell me… with so many Alphas present, and a few Elders besides… what do you think would happen next?”
Summer knew the answer immediately.
The horde would fracture. Each Alpha would seize control of a portion of it, splitting the tide into dozens of smaller swarms. And they would all hunt the nearest source of fear.
Right now, that meant every surrounding village and farm that had already heard the rumors of the approaching Grimm wave.
“In honor of the little one,” Salem added softly, “I have kept them tame. And I will continue to do so while we travel to my home.” Her many arms tightened slightly around the blue cloth. “But my orders will not survive my… temporary death.”
Summer’s mind raced.
Even if she unleashed her eyes at full strength, it would drain most of her aura. She would never reach the baby before the petrified Grimm began collapsing.
And even if she did, she wouldn’t have the strength left to protect him.
The Spriggan alone would be a nightmare in a forest. The thing could leap between trees like a living storm, turning branches into spears and roots into traps.
Trying to outrun it without full aura would be suicide.
Then a single word echoed in her mind. Temporary.
Summer blinked. “Wh—what do you mean temporary?”
Salem turned her head again. This time, the expression wasn’t mocking. If anything… It looked almost pitying.
“He truly has told you very little, hasn’t he?” she said quietly. The sigh that followed sounded like wind sliding across sharpened knives.“I am as immortal as he is, child.” Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark. “Cursed to persist… no matter what.”
Summer’s heart pounded.
It had to be a lie. It had to be. Ozpin was old— ancient Tai used to say —but he wasn’t immortal. He would have told them something like that.
…wouldn’t he?
But Raven’s voice whispered in the back of her mind.
‘Don’t trust the old man too easily, Summer.’
‘He has too many secrets… and far too much power for a simple headmaster.’
“What do you mean?” Even if it was all lies, every second she could stretch this conversation was a victory. Every moment Salem spent talking was another moment the surrounding villages had to prepare, another moment for Atlas patrols to mobilize and heavier firepower to arrive.
And if she was honest with herself… She was curious. Curious about the monster in front of her. Curious about Salem.
“We have both been playing this game since the dawn of your species, child,” Salem said calmly. “Once together… and now on opposing sides.”
Together? Summer’s thoughts recoiled from the implication like a hand from fire.
Ozpin had sided with this thing?
“Do not judge him too harshly for that,” Salem added lightly. “Standing beside one’s wife is a husband’s duty, is it not?”
What?!
The draconic head tilted, the smile stretching wider. “Tell me, little Rose… what exactly has my dear ex-husband told you about me?”
Her many eyes gleamed. “Has he told you why we are cursed? What my first crime was? Why the moon is broken? Why the relics must remain apart? Why I look like this?”
She leaned forward slightly, bifurcated tongue dancing among its many fangs. “Or even something as simple as the true nature of our curse?”
Summer said nothing. Because the answer was simple.
Nothing.
Ozpin had told her nothing. She hadn’t even known Salem’s full name until the Grimm Queen herself had spoken it.
“Your silence is quite damning,” Salem murmured.
“I don’t trust you,” Summer shot back. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not betraying Ozpin.”
“You wouldn’t.” Salem’s tone held no mockery this time—only quiet certainty. “Heros, people like you rarely side with me.”
Summer snorted.
“You expect me to believe a hero — someone like me— would ever side with the Grimm?”
“For the right prize?” Salem replied without hesitation. “Yes.”
Her tail coiled slightly beneath her. “Tell me… do you know the name Malekith Hund?”
Summer nodded. Everyone knew it.
Malekith Hund was a legendary revolutionary— the first great leader of the Faunus liberation movement and one of the central figures of the Faunus War. Entire histories had been written about him.
“He was aided by my council at the time,” Salem said casually. “I even met the man a few times.”
Summer blinked.
“You?” she said sharply. “What would you possibly gain from freeing the Faunus?”
“The complete destabilization of three major kingdoms, for a start.” Her smile sharpened. “But the destruction of the Bahallem and Soviin kingdoms was a delightful surprise.”
Summer stared.
“I cared nothing for the Faunus plight, child,” Salem continued plainly. “But slaves will always seize the chance to turn the tables. Helping free them only ensured their people would fight for those still in chains.”
Her long serpentine body shivered slightly, as if remembering.
“Oh… and what a fight it was.”
“Bahallem was mostly slaves—ten to every free man I belive. My Grimm didn’t even need to march on the city. By the time we arrived, the masters were already hanging from their own walls… or nailed to crosses.”
Summer felt a chill crawl down her spine.
“Malekith didn’t want blood,” Salem said softly. “He never wanted to be a leader.”
Her many arms adjusted the sleeping bundle with surprising gentleness.
“All he wanted was a peaceful life with his wife and children.” Her eyes hardened. “Which you humans again slaughtered.”
“A noble knight,” she continued quietly. “A kind man forced to stain his hands with blood so no one else would lose what he had lost… so no one else would feel the iron collar he once wore.”
The clearing fell silent for a moment.
“And he was not the only one,” Salem went on. “I have had many among my council who did not desire the end of the world… or the extinction of the living.”
Her gaze drifted back to Summer.
“They were few,” she admitted. “But I will say this about them…” A faint smile returned to her monstrous face. “They were always the most memorable.”
“I don’t care,” Summer snapped. “I’m never siding with you!”
“And when did I ask you to?” Salem replied calmly.
The draconic head tilted, crimson eyes studying her with something close to boredom. “My concern for you begins and ends with the color of your eyes… and the fact that you pose a danger to my son.”
“Your son?!” The words burst from Summer before she could stop them.
Salem looked almost amused. “What else would he be?”
A cold spike of panic drove through Summer’s chest.
Had she been tricked? Had there never been a baby at all— only some tiny Grimm hidden inside the bundle?
“He is the only reason we are having this conversation,” Salem continued. “The one who brought me out of my madness.”
Slowly, carefully, the many pale arms shifted.
The blue bundle unfolded just enough for Salem to lift it beside her draconic face. One of the more human-looking hands— slender and almost delicate compared to the others —reached forward to gently brush aside a tuft of soft blond hair.
Summer’s breath caught. A small, pale face peeked from the blankets.
Human. Or at least… It looked human.
Is this another trick? Her thoughts spiraled. Nothing made sense anymore. Every answer only created more questions. She had been on the back foot since the moment she entered the clearing.
Talking was the only weapon she had left.
Stall. Learn as much as I can and then what? Even given the choice she doubted she could flee while Salem had the baby.
“What do you mean… madness?” Summer asked carefully. Had Salem abandoned her crusade? Her war against humanity? Had the Grimm Queen simply… stopped?
“Another long answer,” Salem said mildly. “You may as well sit.”
Summer didn’t move. Her stance wasn’t ideal, but it let her dodge quickly—or fire a few desperate shots if things turned bad.
Salem noticed. “Suit yourself.”
The small of her tail shifted slightly across the clearing floor. “This is something you could easily confirm, in truth. From time to time, I lose myself to the Grimm. To their rage. Their hunger.”
Her massive form rippled faintly as she spoke. “My body twists and warps. I surge forward like a beast, fighting everything in my path until I am slain.”
She paused. “You may know those incidents by other names. Jörmungandr. Scylla. Tiamat. Typhon. Cipactli.” Her many eyes turned back toward Summer. “Call me whatever you wish. It is always me… until I am finally killed.”
One enormous hand waved dismissively, as if her own death were little more than an inconvenience.
“Normally I would not even be aware of it. The madness consumes me until my body is destroyed… and I am reborn in the black pools of Grimm.”
Reborn. Summer’s mind seized on the word. Those pools. Was that the key? Was her immortality tied to them somehow?
If those pools were destroyed… Could Salem finally be slain?
“In thousands of years, this cycle has repeated,” Salem continued. “Again and again.”
Her voice softened slightly. “Until tonight.”
The monster lowered her gaze toward the small bundle in her arms.
“When he woke me.” There was something strange in her tone now. Something almost… gentle.
“My child, alone in a broken home.” Her clawed fingers carefully tucked the blanket around the baby. “And completely unafraid of me.”
Summer swallowed.
The baby was human.
Probably.
But where did that leave her?
What was she supposed to do with any of this? Every piece of information only made the situation more impossible than before.
“But I tire of answering questions,” Salem said at last.
As if you haven’t been throwing dozens at me all night! Summer thought bitterly.
“Tell me, little Rose… what did you lose?” There was no mockery in her tone now. Only curiosity. “Ozpin would never risk his last Silver-Eyed warrior like this,” Salem continued thoughtfully. “You had no idea what I truly was before you attacked. And most telling of all…” Her nostrils flared slightly.“I can smell it on you.”
Summer stiffened.
“The sweet scent of loss,” Salem said softly. “Mixed with dread… and self-loathing.” Her entire monstrous body vibrated with a clipped, draconic laugh. “So tell me—why would someone like you rush so eagerly toward danger and death on such a beautiful autumn night?”
Of all the things in the world Summer wanted to do, discussing this with the Grimm Queen ranked somewhere below drowning.
Because the truth was unbearable.
That charging into a Grimm horde— into possible death —had been easier than staying home. Easier than watching Tai cradle little Yang. Easier than feeling the hollow ache in her chest every time she looked at them. Because no wound she suffered tonight could ever hurt half as much as that.
So she said nothing. The silence stretched between them.
“Shame,” Salem murmured eventually. “It has been some time since I’ve spoken with someone like you.”
Her massive body slowly uncoiled. Then she turned away.
“Where are you going?!” Summer blurted.
“I told you already,” Salem replied without looking back. “Home.”
“I can’t let you take him.”
“Yet uou also cannot stop me,” Salem said simply, the glowing eyes turned back toward her. “So what exactly do you intend to do?”
The answer came before Summer had fully thought it through.
“Take me with you.” It was a gamble. A catastrophically stupid one. Even Qrow— who once betted on a sideways coin toss —would hesitate before risking something like this.
But if she went with Salem…
She could learn more. Her scroll might record enough data to track Salem’s lair later. And if even the smallest opportunity presented itself she could still save the baby.
Salem tilted her head, rotating just enough for the eerie human mask resting upon the draconic face to regard Summer directly.
“How… curious,” she murmured.
A faint smile touched the marble-like lips. “Very well. Why not?” Her many eyes glimmered. “But I do hope you prove to be a more engaging conversationalist than the Nevermores.”
Without waiting for an answer, Salem turned fully and began to move.
Her vast serpentine body slid silently from the clearing.
Into a forest that had become a sea of shadows. Between dark trunks and darker fur. Between bone-white masks and countless pairs of hungry red eyes.