Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being reincarnated was unexpected, but I’d read so many stories about it Before that I was quietly delighted. There were a million possibilities of when, where, how, who, what I’d reincarnated as, I was looking forward to the new life ahead of me. I had a second chance at.. Everything, really. I could do so much better in this life, I was determined, like any good female lead in a manhwa with this topic.

Being reincarnated into Salem from RWBY was a sharp slap to the face, and the lingering sting was the sting of realization. I was a week old when my father first saw me, and through the blurry eyes of my newborn body, I could just barely see the look of agonizing grief on his face, before he snarled at the nurse to take me away. I had watched Salem’s story on my computer, my heart aching for her, her story tragic and lonely. 

Experiencing her story was knowing what was happening, knowing how many years I'd spend alone, and not being able to do anything about it, which felt less like sympathy and more like insanity. Like a prophet knowing a natural disaster is coming and being unable to do anything but watch . 

My first 10 years were.. Uneventful. Mostly. The nurse who had delivered me was my designated caretaker, and she watched over me most of the day, making sure I remained uninjured in my room at the top of my father- the King’s- tower. It was a single room- relatively big, especially at my small age, but a single room nonetheless. There was only a small, thin wooden divider to one side, to provide some minimal privacy for bathing and other bathroom facilities, though there wasn't much to work with, it being medieval times. 

I focused on growing and learning. Being alone so much, my only real visitors being the nurse- whose name was Eliza, a beautiful name, and my “first word”- and my Father, about once a week and, if it was a special occasion, twice a week. But I didn't bother to hide my oddities very well, and Eliza accepted the weirdly smart baby she had to look after with minimal distress. Sure, she might’ve almost fainted when she heard me say her name at three months old, and she made a noise that might’ve been a small scream when she caught me walking, leaning on the wall for support, at 7 months old, but other than that, she was very accepting of my abnormalities. 

By 3 years old I had silky smooth blond hair and fair, pale skin, speaking full, coherent sentences- if I spoke a little slowly due to having an awkwardly shaped, still growing mouth, nobody was there to judge or comment on it. Eliza was amazing, as she always was, bringing in small things from the outside to my endless delight. It was kind of pathetic, because I wasn't actually 3 years old, and getting excited over a fucking rock was a little depressing, but I didn't let my thoughts linger on the pitying look in Eliza’s eyes as I giggled happily over holding as simple and plain as a pebble.

The princess of the land, and I'd never even touched the stones on the ground before that day. I cried into the night after Eliza left, cradling the pebble like it was a stuffed animal, because holding its rough texture in my soft toddler hands had made me truly realize I'd never stepped outside so far. I had almost forgotten what rocks felt like exactly, and the familiar feeling of one had been such a shock that I'd stood staring at it for minutes, until Eliza got concerned and tried to ask me what was wrong. I’d stared at her like a fool before shakily smiling and reassuring her that I was fine, and definitely not about to burst into tears over a rock . 

Anyways. 

My first and only escape attempt was just after my 5th birthday. 

My Father visited me the day before my birthdays, spending a few minutes in my presence staring at me and sometimes, sometimes complimenting me, saying I already looked like my mother, which just made me wince. Once he realized I could speak he’d ask me a couple questions, about how I was doing, what I had learned recently. 

I had tried to ask him if I could go outside once . The stillness that settled over his shoulders and the dead-eyed stare he gave me struck me with such terror I had nearly fallen over myself apologizing and backpedaling, because beneath those empty eyes, that agonized grief I’d seen in him the first time we met had twisted itself into an unholy rage, and I desperately wanted to keep this charade of a relationship going, lest he take away the only company I’d ever had and leave me to rot up here, alone. 

He stopped visiting every week, coming about every other week after that point. 

Two days after he left, one day after my 5th birthday, and one hour after Eliza had left me to sleep, I crept out of my open window, using my sheets as a rope- not a very long one, but that didn't matter at the time. I wanted to see if I could fall through the magic barrier, if throwing myself out would allow me to push past it, due to its lack of physical form. 

It did, and I had a split second to feel elation after the agony of getting shoved through an electric barrier before my sheets came undone and I plummeted to the ground. The terror of falling knocked the wind out of my lungs, and I fell straight to the ground, silently staring up at the starry night sky as the window of my tower rapidly grew smaller. 

I was saved only by the quick reflexes of a guard stationed nearby, who knew enough magic to soften my fall. I still broke my arm, dislocated my hip and knocked the breath clean out of my lungs, but I was more breathless at the fact that holy shit I was on the ground, the grass is so soft, was it always this beautiful outside at night? The guard thought I was sobbing over the pain, and I kinda was, but I was more crying at the fact that the air felt different, this close to the ground. I could smell the dirt, I could feel the softness of the ground beneath me, I could see a line of torches to my left, a corridor outside. I hadn’t known there was a corridor nearby. I hadn’t known that the adrenaline running through my veins could feel this good. 

Father was furious, of course. I thought he’d hit me, but he ended up emptying my room of everything except my bed and my bath, which was worse, actually. I think I remember getting on my knees and begging him to just strike me, because that would be better than having my room stripped bare of everything I had slowly collected over the years. I don't.. remember that point in time very well.

I remember bawling my eyes out all over again when Eliza slipped me the rock she’d given me before, which I had kept right next to my pillow all this time, which I'd been so scared Father had thrown out. Feeling it’s familiar form in my hands had me sobbing so hard Eliza had to hold me just so I wouldn't fall out of bed with my injuries. 

I was healed quickly due to magic, and then it was just me, Eliza, and an empty room. And the silence.

Gods, the Silence. 

The phrase “the silence was deafening” never fully made sense to me before then, but I understood it soon enough. Eliza could only talk about so much, and she was really good at staring at the wall and dissociating- so was I, but I could only do that so much, honestly. I needed something else, some other form of stimulation, and there was just.. Nothing. I spent most of my time staring out the window, memorizing the landscape I could see. I couldn’t lean outside anymore, without getting shocked by a new magical barrier, this one much stronger than the last. 

By the time my 6th birthday crept around, I had memorized how many trees were on the distant treeline, how many boards were on my floor, how many stones were on the walls, and many other small things that drove me insane. I was very, very good at counting. I was also very good at losing my place, and the frustration from that might’ve been one of the only thin strings tying my sanity together, because at least I was feeling something. 

For my 6th birthday my Father visited me and listened to me apologize, and he watched me become slowly incoherent as I started crying and begging for something, anything to be put in my room. He eventually became uncomfortable enough that he stiffly allowed Eliza to start bringing in things again, like toys and small puzzles. I thanked him so much he had to tug me off his robes before he left, and I hurriedly agreed to a promise to never try and leave the tower again, and he believed me. I believed myself after a while, because the Silence haunted me at night, the sounds of the wilderness outside too faint and hard to hear this high up. 

The years passed, and I tried my best to keep myself busy. I got good at solving the puzzles Eliza would bring me, and playing pretend was something I did daily, making up wild scenarios in my head that Eliza was forced to watch. I tried not to play anything too weird, but from the bewildered looks I'd receive from time to time, I failed. 

My tenth birthday is one I remember fondly, because that was the day my life gained a new light.

That’s when my Father gifted me books . 

I had laughed with delight at the sight of them, eagerly grabbing the first one in reach and peeling it open gently, staring inside with wide eyes…

And then bursting into more hysterical laughter, because those words weren’t English and oh my gods I  can't read . 

The hilarity had me howling and rolling on the floor for minutes, Eliza becoming increasingly concerned when my laughter turned into wheezes and my face turned red from the lack of air. When I had breathed long enough to explain my dilemma, the look of genuine surprise on her face had me dissolving into breathless cackles, because it turns out Eliza had been so distracted by my advanced mentality and quick learning that she had completely forgotten that she had never actually taught me how to read or write. 

So that was fun, it gave me something to do. I thought I'd get tired of it, but since I had nothing else to do, I was eager for something new. I learned the basics of it in just a few months, which is pretty impressive, honestly. It was an entirely new alphabet and language, but again. Nothing else to do. It was surprising, how much I could get done when I really put effort into it. 

The months passed like that, with me learning how to read and write, slowly consuming books like a lifeline- and they were, honestly. I had loved reading Before, during mealtimes or when I got bored, I'd always scan my shelves for something I hadn't read yet, or look online for one. Before long I was reading a book a day, and I was begging Eliza for new genres and bigger books every week. Sadly, with it being medieval-like times, books weren’t mass produced. Father may have been a king, but he didn’t have a love for books like I did, so Eliza could only request them either through him or through the town library, which was small, maybe holding only a couple hundred books, max. 

Reading the non-fiction books also had me remembering something very important and very new to me as well, something unique to this world.

Magic .

The second I remembered what it was, and that it did, in fact, exist here. The second I could read more than just basic literature, I asked for academic texts, scrolls, whatever Eliza could find on the teachings of magic. Those teachings came in the form of grimoires, only a couple from what Eliza could find and have access to, but it turns out my Father appreciated my eagerness in learning magic, so he procured some himself. Mainly defensive magic, but I absorbed it nonetheless. Eliza was able to bring me four grimoires, which I thanked her endlessly for. (Now that I thought about it, the guard that saved me from falling to my death had used magic on me, and my injuries had been healed faster due to magic… huh. I guess I just.. Wasn't thinking about it, back then.) 

In total, I read, reread, and damn near memorized 6 grimoires. Two of them were defensive magic, one for beginners and one for advanced students. Then there was the energy magic one, which was considered a more general kind of magic, the kind that makes those balls of energy I vaguely remember seeing. The next one I read was one on mental magics, like strengthening your mind and memory, along with minor telepathy style stuff. The last two were more curious, and ones that Eliza asked I keep quiet to my Father. That piqued my curiosity, and I of course agreed. 

Offensive magic, and shapeshifting magic. Those were the two last grimoires she got me. They both looked a bit older than the other two, but they were my most prized possessions. I savored every word in those two- I loved the others plenty, but.. These grimoires practically sang to me. The shapeshifting one I reread so many times I really did memorize it, and then I kept reading it over and over again until the pages were worn and the binding was cracked beyond repair. I had always loved the idea of shapeshifting, the thought of turning into other animals or shifting parts of my body into animal parts exciting me to no end. It was definitely an advanced kind of magic, and extremely dangerous, because there was always a chance you could get stuck a certain way, which was why shapeshifting magic wasn’t as common. 

The offensive magic was beautiful because it gave me the knowledge on how to fight back. Maybe not exactly against my Father, because he was old and very powerful, but I knew that when I finally escaped from this gods awful tower, I'd be able to hold my own. Hopefully. I didn’t really have a reference for how strong my magic was, but after I shattered my into splinters by shooting a beginner spell at it, I figured I might be a little powerful. 

And that's.. How my next six years went. I read everything and anything I could get my hands on, from fiction to history, I even learned how to read maps in my 13th year out of boredom. I practiced my magic every day, and I could feel myself getting stronger, my mana reserves growing- I had no way to measure them, but in one year I could cast near double the amount of spells I could before. And shapeshifting came along well as time went on, with me trying bolder and more full transformations as I got better, to Eliza’s endless worry. The years passed and I stayed up in the tower, eagerly awaiting my 16th birthday, because that is when my story would really begin. 

I tried to follow the script I remembered, as best as I could. My memory was weirdly good, unlike Before, and I remembered each aching detail of Salem- my - story. 

When my 16th birthday came, I asked for pen and paper, to write my own stories. My Father took one look at the books piled along the walls and agreed, asking me to read one of the stories I write to him. I had to refrain from throwing a thick history book at his head and telling him to jump out my window. (So I might've grown bitter at him over the years, wouldn't you? He never really abused me, but isolation like this.. Does things to a person. To a child.) 

I wrote the little story of myself many times over, making it seem as tempting as possible, promising riches and the whole castle for whoever won against my Father.

I watched noble knights approach, clad in shining armor and strong swords.

I watched them die, struck down by Father’s furious magic. 

Somehow, he never suspected me. He never confronted me, about the sudden influx of unwanted visitors- maybe he just didn’t expect me to do something like this. He should’ve remembered that I almost died trying to get outside when I was 5 . It seems he forgot just how much of a scheming bastard I could be sometimes. 

It took 2 months for my savior to finally arrive, and it was almost like I could feel Him approach. It felt like a normal day at first, and I didn't even realize it was Him, until I saw the glint of His staff. Or cane, honestly. It was short, and while He didn't use it as a walking aide, simply carrying it beside Him, but it resembled a fancy, royal kind of cane, the jewel on top a shining, vibrant turquoise. Or green? I don't know, all I remember is that I could feel Him. His magic, it was so.. Vibrant. Loud. So bright, it felt like I was looking at the rising sun as He approached. 

Eliza had left not long after my 16th birthday, me urging her to leave just after I sent out the first paper. She had agreed after much persuasion, but I had known her for 16 years straight. I knew her, and I knew how to manipulate her just enough to get her out of the tower without verbally attacking her. I didn’t want her to die with bad memories of me. 

Usually the knights who came lasted maybe 20 minutes against Father, they held their own decently enough but if they made it past the initial line of knights blocking their way, which they usually did, it wasn’t long before Father would blow them away with magic, either blasting them with some kind of lightning or burning them to ash and bones. 

He lasted 40 minutes before Father slipped up and His magic got a clean strike in, searing a crackling, electric slash straight through Father’s chest. I counted the time out of routine at this point, just another thing I made a habit out of after years on my own. 

40 minutes, and then the sounds of fighting stopped. I remember feeling so tense, because what if i was wrong, what if something changed, what if He was dead-

And then He opened the door. My savior, my knight. 

Ozma. 

I.. I didn’t expect to actually fall for him. I thought I'd follow a script for a couple years, play along, let things happen. But actually seeing him in real life for the first time, a living, breathing, new person? A new person, when I had barely met more than 3 people in this life over my years? 

It took all I had not to burst into tears, and I only managed not to because I knew that would be weird and embarrassing as hell . He was so gentle, which didn't help. Kind, his voice familiar but deeper than I remember hearing it. He had the same voice actor as Oscar, I think. But he was so.. Soft. I was so used to seeing Ozpin the Headmaster, the Voice in Oscar’s head, the guide, the wise old immortal. This Ozma was just.. A man. A very sweet one, who greeted me with a kneel and a kiss to the hand that had me blushing like a maiden- which I was, in reality. I was also a girl who hadn’t talked to anyone but my not-mother Eliza and my Father for 16 years, so I was a bit awkward and flustered. But he just smiled at me, and. Well. 

I didn’t think I believed in love at first sight, but here I was. In love. At first sight. 

I probably looked like such a fucking fool in front of him, but he took my awkwardness in stride, his patience unending. It was something that reminded me of the man he would eventually become, which honestly just made things worse, because Ozpin was kinda hot - 

Okay. Focus. 

We walked out of the castle together. I was in relatively decent shape from various calisthenics I had done as routine through the years, as to not let myself grow soft and sedentary, but the walk down the stairs of that tower had me breathing a little heavily at the bottom. 

And then.. I was free. 

I was definitely in shock, which Ozma noticed, and he held my hand and let me slowly walk out, watching me glance this way and that, tense as a bowstring. I was just so.. Scared of something. Anything. Scared that Father wasn’t actually dead and that he’d come out from around the corner, furious and magic at the ready to strike us both down. Scared that a guard would come from behind and kill Ozma for killing their King. I was trembling ever so slightly, and sweating, and I realized living would be fucking awful for a little while because holy shit, apparently living in captivity for over a decade and a half gives you hella anxiety. 

But Ozma let me lead, his focus mainly on me, talking to me quietly about anything outside the castle. 

“So, what would you like to do first?” The way he spoke was so casually formal had me melting a little. I love the way his voice sounded, he had the slightest accent, though I couldn't relate it to anywhere I’d heard from. 

I glanced at him, and our eyes locked, which made my heart jump in surprise. I quickly looked away again, missing the amused smile crossing his face at the sight of my blush. 

“Uhm.. I mean, logically? Go to the nearest town. Get new clothes. These ones are nice, of course, but I feel like I might stand out a little.. It’ll be good to get something local, and I'm curious on what the style is like outside. Uh, emotionally? Eat something.” Ozma blinks in surprise and I chuckle lightly, running a hand through my hair. 

“I know, kind of surprising. I got fed just fine in.. the tower, but the food was mostly the same after the first few years of.. awareness. The castle chefs weren’t very creative, so I'm very used to bird meat, roasted vegetables, and bread. And.. fruit, I guess. Eggs. Lots of bird products, poultry..” I trail off in a mumble, looking around the corner. Ozma listens to my voice go quiet, and while he can't fully understand what I'm saying near the end of my sentence, he finds it cute nonetheless. 

He smiles at me, squeezing my hand to snag my attention. “If that is what you really want, we can do that. If you are worried about your dress we ccould grab something to go, maybe some sweet bread while we look for new clothes?” 

Ozma, you can't keep being this perfect, please, my heart physically can't take this, I think, staring at him with glittering eyes and a heart pounding so hard I could feel my chest moving slightly with each beat.

After that.. Well. You know the story.

I learned so much about Ozma, things I had never known before. He was a traveling mage, he grew up in a temple to the Gods, he’s an orphan, he learned magic from many teachers, his favorite food was roasted chicken because that's what the cooks at the temple would serve when he was young. He had carved his staff himself, and perfected it over the years, his first model of it being made when he was 9. He got the jewel as a gift from one of his masters to signify his completion in his magic training. He was, surprisingly, a bit of an adrenaline junkie, which really showed his age. Although, it didn't help that I was also a bit of an adrenaline chaser myself, so we sometimes found ourselves in predicaments that we hadn’t quite thought through. 

But traveling with him.. It was amazing. I learned so much about this world, about the Gods, the people, the food, the buildings, the history, everything. Everything the books in the Tower couldn't teach me, I learned from Ozma. He was as perfect as a star, a shining beacon of love and care, always indulging in the little things I craved after 16 years in captivity, always doing his best to help me through my fears.

But even stars, as magnificent as they are, eventually fade. I had almost forgotten, in the excitement of the world, that I knew how this story would go. But Ozma was just so distracting, it was so easy to focus on everything else in the world. 

And then He got sick. 

Chapter Text

Ozma’s sickness was natural, but fatal, and rather abrupt. It wasn’t a virus, but something similar to cancer, though it had a more magical aspect to it. The disease affected his lungs, rotting the muscles and flesh in his chest until he physically couldn’t take a breath anymore.  I did my best to help heal him, but the disease was strong, and complex, and one wrong move from me could just kill him faster. We went to four different healers and doctors, but once they realized what was ailing him, they just gave him medicine to help with the pain and a small prayer for a quick death. 

Ozma had to practically manhandle me out of the last doctor’s office after I had slapped him across the face, apologizing for me as I seethed at the useless bastard.

It took him two months until he couldn't get out of bed. The innkeeper we were with was gracious enough to lessen the cost of our room, and when I had given her a suspicious side eye she had quietly said that her brother had succumbed to this same illness before, and gently asked me to not forget to look after myself.

I ignored her, told her I was sorry for her loss, and went back to Ozma’s side. 

He suffered and rotted in bed for another two weeks before I woke up in the middle of the night to him twitching and having what looked like a small seizure. I vividly remember grabbing his hand, my mind slow from sleep, and hearing him rasp out a quiet Love you, Salem , before his body went slack.

I remember staring at His body, His eyes still half open, His hand heavy in my grip. 

The innkeeper found me a whole day later, staring vacantly at the cold corpse of my lover. 

The feeling of grief was.. Relatively unfamiliar, to me. The most important thing I had ever lost had been my cat from Before, my first pet I'd had since I was young. I had sobbed and ugly cried for about 20 minutes before my tears dried, and while I teared up and my chest ached occasionally at the sight of her body, I was.. Feeling better, in a way, by the next day. Her absence was glaringly obvious, but I had her daughter to comfort me, a second cat with beautiful black fur she had had when I was 5 years old. 

This grief was completely different.

The loss of Him was.. Indescribable. I couldn't compare it to anything I'd felt before, not even when I was in the Tower. When Father took my things away, I still had Eliza. When Eliza left, I could still watch the knights heed my call from far up above them. 

I had.. No one, now. The innkeeper let me stay for a week before she gently told me I had to get out of the building, get some fresh air, do something. I barely had enough awareness to thank her, those words being the first I'd spoken since He died, before I left, taking His body with me. 

I buried Him behind the town’s local temple to the Brothers, in a burial site that held a dozen other people who had worshiped the Gods just like He did. I kept His cane, though. I remember the original Salem had done that, and I just couldn't bury it underground, leaving it to rot.. 

It fit in my hands imperfectly, but the smooth handle felt like Him.

After that?

Well. It was easy to follow the script after I didn't have any.. distractions . 

I don't even remember it all that well. 

I went to the God of Light, begged him to bring Ozma back. He was gentle, in his refusal, and he explained it well. Deep down, I understood what he was saying, but I had a part to play. I let his words wash over me, like water over a river rock, and I left. I think I remembered the original script including shouting at the God of Light, but I had no energy in me to raise my voice. 

I went to the God of Darkness, begged him to bring Ozma back, spun a pretty story, hiding my desperation behind smooth grief. I was a surprisingly good actor, for a woman who just lost her lover. I left out any mention of his Brother, stroking the God of Darkness’ ego until he was purring like a pet cat. It was so disgustingly easy in the end that I'm surprised I didn't sneer at him. 

The only real thing I remember from this time is how scared Ozma looked in my arms, how panicked he was, before he dissolved into nothingness, carving open my heart all over again. 

The Brother’s snarled at each other over my head, fueled by my false words of fury, which were not really that false. I held no love for these Gods, they were just.. Beings. Figures of men with curling antlers and horns, with deep voices and featureless faces.

I was too busy trying to memorize the color of His eyes to pay full attention to the Brothers realizing my manipulations, and before I knew it we were blasted by a sickening purple fire, leaving me with nothing but ashes covering my hands as Ozma disappeared from my arms for a second time. I felt bad for him, tears swimming in my eyes as I tried not to imagine how terrifying those couple minutes must have been for him, the Gods he held so dearly towering over him, yanking him in and out of the afterlife like a twisted game of tug-of-war. 

I struggled, at this point. My act was slipping because I could still feel the warmth of His skin, but somehow, through a combination of my grief and the Brother’s arrogance, I played my part. 

I stared at my hands as I stood on the Waters of Life, the Brothers standing in front of me, though I hardly noticed. I felt.. Wrong . It was horrifying, not in a scary way, but in a way that reminded me of when I was a baby, having just realized who I had reincarnated as. Only this feeling was worse, as I felt the Light magic coursing through me, I expected to feel some kind of warmth.

My blood felt like ice in my veins as my skin shimmered with my newfound immortality. 

You must learn the importance, of Life and Death.

I wanted to laugh in their faces. I felt insane, I felt manic, I felt like a rabid animal, my breaths feeling heavy in my ribs. 

Learn? The importance? Of Life? And Death? 

I wanted to LAUGH. 

My memory blurred. The deep sense of horror and panic made my mind hazy, but somehow, some way, I kept going. My body was practically on autopilot, my memories unsteady, but I clung to the script I remembered with shaking hands, barely managing not to collapse as I walked through the motions of the animation I remembered watching all those years ago. 

I spun lies like a spider spun silk, weaving a web out of the story I told. I welcomed anyone to try and kill me, and reveled in the agony I felt as sword after axe after spear strike through me, to no effect. The longest I remember being “dead” was when I was beheaded, but I mainly remember the horrified shrieks as the people in the throne room were forced to watch me regrow my head. I felt jealous of the ones who threw up, because the nausea I felt was bone deep and unending. 

I hadn’t eaten food since the God of Light had pushed me out of his home. 

Something something, live free from the Gods, something something no more death, something. 

I didn't fucking care, at this point. The reality of immortality was slowly sinking in, and I could feel the pain and grief-fueled insanity clawing at my mind. My mind was already warped before from the 16 years of isolation, my current situation was only making everything worse. I was irritable when I wasn't manipulating the ever loving fuck out of the people who were somehow rulers of their kingdoms, snapping at anyone who dared approach me and glaring at the soon-to-be corpses whenever they weren’t looking. 

It was so, so easy to pull the strings of the puppets these people called their kings and queens. I was honestly surprised with how easy they were to manipulate, like wet clay in the hands of a sculptor. I had no idea how I managed to pull it off, but I did. 16 years in solitary confinement had apparently turned me into a scheming bitch, much more than I ever had been before. I guess I just never needed it before now, because I had Ozma. 

I violently shoved that thought away before my chest could cave in on itself again, refocusing on the soldiers in front of me. 

It took about 5 months for me to gather everyone for this farce I called a war on the Gods. The continent hadn’t separated yet, interestingly enough, it was like Pangea, just one huge land mass separated only by mountains and rivers instead of oceans, so travel was relatively easy. I managed to pull 4 of the 5 kingdoms that currently existed, the only one I wasn't able to convince was, ironically, my own kingdom. I didn't really try. It didn't matter. 

Soldiers of different kingdoms swarmed the home of the Light God, shouting and howling their war cries like monkeys screeching in the trees, and the Brothers appeared in their draconic forms, confused and annoyed at the abrupt show of hostility. 

I fired the first shot at the God of Darkness after he roared at me, fueled by spite and determination to see this to the end. 

I almost- almost laughed when the dark Brother grabbed the magic thrown at him, twisted amusement curling in my throat at how easily the people’s attacks were stopped. It was like he was swatting aside a particularly fat fly. 

Only when the wall of pure destruction expanded outward, did I let myself grin. 

When I regained consciousness, the ashes of the people I had manipulated were still floating in the air. My skin stung from the echoes of violent fury that had just spread over the world, consuming everything in its path, leaving nothing living behind. 

I’ll-I’ll tell people, I’ll build another army. The world will know of this.. Massacre.

My voice was flat, but the Brothers didn't seem to notice. 

You are all that remains of Humanity.

This planet.. Was a beautiful experiment. But it is a mere Remnant of what it once was. 

Only when the world was empty of human consciousness, when both the Brothers had left, when the moon broke into a permanent crescent and meteors fell to the earth.

Only then did I finally allow myself to scream. 

Chapter Text

Isolation wasn't new to me, the painful silence an achingly familiar sound to my butchered mind.

But this kind of Silence was.. So much worse. Worse than an empty room in the Tower, worse than a cold corpse in a bed. 

There was just.. Nothing . 

No people. Hardly any animals. Once splendid kingdoms had been turned to ruins. Grimm roamed the lands, attacking me whenever I came too close, leaving my body broken and bleeding on the scorched earth. 

Sometimes I let myself lie there, the sun searing my skin, until the heat just got too unbearable and I forced myself up. To my ever so slight amusement, it turns out I can't get sunburnt anymore, due to my healing factor. The burn counts as an injury, so my skin just heals too fast for me to be affected. 

I mourned the tan skin I’d never get to have, before abruptly remembering i would never have any sort of tan after I…

My eyes stray over to a Grimm pool, watching as an Ursa crawls out, dripping with oily Darkness. 

My gut rolls at the thought of plunging into that and I turn, walking away from it with slow, ambling steps. 

Since I have literally nothing better to do, I waste time. I get into the bad habit of talking to myself, if only to hear something, even if it is just my own voice. My brain to mouth filter is gone within a year, my rambles filling the air around me, senseless comments made about the ruins I come across, swears snapping out at the Grimm who attack me. 

“Gods, whoever built this must’ve been fucking blind. Why are the supports there?? Oh, I dunno, maybe because the building was DESTROYED BY A METEOR??? Oh, right. Hm… Still sucks though. God you’re useless, please stop talking. Why don't you make me?? WE’RE THE SAME PERSON-”

I’d sometimes catch myself if I got too worked up and started shouting, but usually I'd just end up laughing at myself because of how genuinely insane I sounded. It was weirdly funny. It didn't make any sense, but again. Insanity. Alone. Post-nuclear style world. 

I was doing great, thanks for asking. 

I did my best to count the days, but I didn't really have a solid way to keep track. I didn't feel like carrying around a wooden or stone tablet, or charcoal. I couldn't scratch marks into my skin because they’d just heal. 

Days passed, turning into weeks, turning into months. I had estimates of time, but nothing clear. I wandered aimlessly, idly knocking down ruins and occasionally killing an animal or two just to taste something. There weren’t any vegetables around, obviously, and fruit was rare, so a carnivore diet was all I had, when I decided to eat. I didn't often though, because I’d hate to accidentally make a species extinct just out of boredom. Although it was a bit interesting to observe the animals around, they were very different than the ones I'd seen when I was traveling with Ozma, even a bit different than what I remembered from Before. Some remnants (hah) of magic remained in the animals that survived, large jackalopes hopping around in the desert regions and sea monsters with long necks and too many fins a common oddity in the large expanses of seawater I came across. 

And if I pet most of the animals I came across- the ones that stayed still long enough for me to get within reach- who's here to judge me? I can pet the massive, thick, 50 foot long anaconda. It's not like the cute little baby can kill me! Although it certainly tried-

I think I lasted about one year before I finally cracked. 

I had no map, but I had a goal in mind, and had wandered around enough that I had a vague sense of direction. I knew East and West due to the sun, and could figure out North and South from there. Kind of. Maybe. 

Okay, I knew East and West. 

It took me around 6 days to make it back to the Land of Darkness, and I didn't hesitate to climb up a small, crooked, broken cliff and fall off it, my body sinking deep into the pool of Darkness. 

I knew it wouldn't kill me, but dear Gods I didn't expect it to hurt so much.

It felt like a pack of Beowolves had dug their jaws into my body and were using me as a chew toy, ripping me back and forth, my flesh burning from the agony as pure, violent Darkness tried to rip me apart.

It didn't work, of course. 

I was shaking as I crawled out of the pool, oil dripping off me as I gagged and retched on the foul, thick liquid. I panted, feeling lightheaded and wrong all over again. I looked down at my hands and saw the white skin and sighed, long and tired. 

I have a headache. 

More time passes. I spend time burning and polishing some sand on a beach to make something mirror-like, and then I spend even more time making it into a real, larger mirror so I could actually see myself in full. I’ll fully admit, I had a bit of a hard on for Salem Before, (I had a coin slot) so admiring my body was a lovely distraction. 

Pale skin with the faintest outlines of red, crooked veins running over my arms and face- I forgot she didn't have the creepy veins at the beginning- snow white hair, black eyes with red irises that were surprisingly beautiful. I stared hard at my body as a sudden realization struck me,

“Did.. did the Grimm pool make me CURVIER??” 

It might’ve, honestly. I couldn't really tell, I hadn't seen myself in a mirror in so long, but I swear my body looked different. Aside from the obvious.. Grimm-ness. 

When I had finally memorized what I looked like, I broke the mirror, buried the shards and wandered off again. Seeing myself had also made me realize I was pretty naked, my clothes having burned off the second they touched the pool, but I honestly didn't bother covering myself again. There was nobody around but Grimm and animals, and the Grimm didn't bother me too much anymore because I felt like one of them. So that was.. Interesting. Walking around nude. 

Okay, fine, that wasn't a very long phase. I conjured up a loose shirt and skirt after like, two days of walking around like that. It was chilly , leave me alone. 

Months blended into years blended into decades. The loneliness was crippling to my mind, shredding the remaining bits of my sanity until I was having at least one mental breakdown a week, ripping apart anything that was unlucky enough to be within reach. I got into fake, made up arguments with Grimm, I killed plenty of the skull-masked bastards, and all the while I could feel my personality morphing. The Grimm pools had transformed me, and not just physically. I was now part Grimm, and I held the same burning, violent hatred as they did. Luckily I had no humans around me to take it out on, so I lashed out at everything else- nature, the Grimm, the animals that crossed my path. Anything and everything was fair game. 

Over time, as my mind fractured, my magic became slippery as well, often flowing over my skin and affecting my surroundings in one way or another. That too had been infected by the Darkness, and where my magic had been lighter and more electric, it was now oily and dark. But I could still do all that I could before, and experimenting with my magic, pushing my limits, became a common hobby of mine. 

My form often changed as a kind of comfort to myself- my mind remained the same in any form, my thoughts were all still there, but being in a different body.. Helped, in a way. Especially as a beast, I had always enjoyed shapeshifting, so changing forms became a daily thing. I could spend a whole day as a wolf, and then the next as a bird, and then the next few days as a horse, or something. 

The only thing I didn't like about it was my coloring. No matter what form I was in, I couldn't change the color of my fur, feathers or scales. I always looked similar to a Grimm, though it was all coloring, I didn't actually have a skull mask on my face. But I did have a white, skull-like marking that resembled the skull of whatever animal I was in the form of, covering my face while my eyes shone a bright red. The rest of my body was an inky black, although I had actual depth and texture to my feathers and furs, while the real Grimm were often smooth and oily, their fur fake and more bristles than anything. 

Eventually, I ended up spending more and more time as animals, if only to feel the freedom of different bodies. I even got good enough to combine forms, kind of. I couldn’t combine more than 2 at a time, and I couldn't really combine polar opposites very well- the one time I tried to shift into a bear and a fish at the same time had me groaning from broken- and missing - bones for the rest of the day. But I could make myself into a griffin, or a lion with a wicked snake tail. I even made myself into a unicorn, once or twice. That was fun. They had existed in this world before the Brothers destroyed everything, though they were pretty rare. I had never personally seen one, but I just used the form of a farming horse and pushed a rhinoceros horn up from its head, and there we go. Off brand thick unicorn. 

As a beast I could run wild, unhindered by a human body. And I could be reckless- broken bones healed in just over a minute, even a broken spine only took 3 minutes, approximately. I could run, jump, climb anything and everything I could see.

And my favorite? Was flying .

Like anyone in captivity, I had envied birds when I was younger. They could go almost anywhere they wanted, flying through the sky on skilled wings. When I had first started learning shapeshifting, I had desperately wanted to try to grow wings, but the room had been too small for me to properly try. And traveling with Ozma, I had just been so distracted by everything new, I didn't think about shapeshifting too often. 

But now? Now that I have the sky, free to explore except for a couple Nevermores and stray seabirds? 

I ruled the winds, gliding over the land in a massive form, my wingspan easily three times the size of a Nevermore’s. I liked the largeness of this form, an oversized raven with wicked talons and a sharp beak. I had plenty of fun flying over the world like this, snatching up large marine animals for fun and sometimes eating them, if I had the chance. 

Transforming into huge animals always gave me a sense of delight. Nothing could touch me when I was a 20 foot tall wolf. I could turn into a megalodon and the oceans would be my domain, free to swim through as I wish. I could snatch a Nevermore out of the sky in the form of a raven twice its size, killing it quick enough so that its body is ash before it hits the ground. 

Speaking of animals, more time than I realized must've passed because the animals were changing. Not too obviously, but slowly, overtime, the bigger reptiles and mammals slowly seemed to.. shrink, in a way. Gained different features and colors as the sun crossed the sky far too many times to count. It took me far too long to realize I was witnessing evolution, which definitely knocked me on my ass. The fact that I had been alone long enough for evolution to occur... 

I tried not to think about it too hard. 

I bet a thousand years had passed by the time I got really bored. And me being bored.. wasn't a good thing. I searched my memories for things to amuse myself with, and came to a small realization. I had magic. I had free access to the Grimm pools, and, upon experimentation, the ability to manipulate it. 

Logically, I saw pools of oily Darkness. Emotionally? I saw clay.

I must've spent a good year or two there, making mounds of oily essence and manipulating it until it was shaped remotely like something. I experimented, I played around. Lot's of times I failed, the figure I made too uneven to function properly. But when I succeeded? Oooohh, they were beautiful. Their masks were carved myself, out of magic- still the same pearly white, ruby red color scheme, but with my own invisible mark to them, so I'd never forget which ones were mine. Not that I could forget these beautiful creatures, my imagination was literally the only limit I had for them. 

More time passes. My magic grows, for some reason. Even without the Gods, it seems magic still existed in the air of the world, if not the beings. Although- that's not quite right. Semblances and Aura were forms of magic, in a way. 

Humanity incomplete, I muse, remembering the God of Light’s words. Currently, I was walking through the forest, the trees huge and towering from being untouched by humanity. I pushed through the brush, uncaring of the leaves that snagged at my hair and the thorns that scraped my skin- it quite literally didn't matter. It's not like anyone can see me like this, and I know there's a river around here somewhere I can wash off in. 

And its as if there’s a Brother himself listening to my thoughts and deciding to respond with a prompt ‘fuck you’, because I take two more steps, round the bend of a particularly large tree, and come face to face with a human.

A real, living, breathing human. 

… I stare, obviously. I'm so caught off guard that my mind is weirdly silent for once, and the human just stares right back, their head tilted.. Up? 

Good gods, why is it so SHORT? 

It's an.. Average sort of thing. Tan skin, dark brown hair, dirt brown eyes. Naked. Dirty in general. And short, what the fuck? I'm at least a foot taller than the damn thing. It doesn't even look like a child, it looks.. I don't know, maybe in the 20 year range? And it's rough looking, not like modern humans. It seems some human evolution is still due to happen, then... I stare at it, oddly disturbed at the first sight of a person in centuries, before I mentally take a step back.

And then I take a physical step back, stiffly turning my back on the new human and continuing my walk to nowhere. 

My favorite reaction- ‘not my fucking problem.’ One that I hadn't had to utilize in literal centuries, but is still my favorite nonetheless. 

Of course, that doesn't work. I hear it stumble after me, its steps unsteady- was it JUST BORN?? WHAT IS GOING ON??? Was it like the Christian beginning of humanity, where people just fucking crawled out of the dirt??? I know that's not what actually happened, I saw that interpretation in a show once- Wait, I remember the God of Light saying something about leaving a seed for the new humanity to grow from.. DID HE MEAN LITERAL SEED?? I shift my gaze to the ground, my steps slowing so I don't step on a person, which is apparently possible now. 

Dammit, is it still following me? I turn my head, and flinch, startled, because what in the ever loving fuck there's two of them now. I didn't even hear the second one approach. 

The two humans stare at me with big eyes, one pair brown and the new pair more green colored. This new one has lighter hair, still brown but much more.. Honey toned, in a way. Oh, and it's a girl, I realize belatedly, my eyes landing on a pair of rather average breasts. … Hm. Nothing? Alright, I guess I'm still in shock. Hell, my sense of attraction might be totally fucked due to my Grimmness. 

I grimace as they keep staring at me, uncomfortable with human gazes on me for the first time in a while. 

“Okay, enough you two. Go away, go.. Start humanity, or whatever. Go,” I make a shooing motion with my hand, but they don't move. Their heads tilt slightly like a confused animal, and I realize they probably don't understand a word I'm saying. I sigh loudly, turning back around and continuing my cautious walk forward. Surely if I ignore them long enough they’ll just.. Get bored or something, right? Go about their new lives? Right?

Wrong. 

I sigh louder when, about half an hour later, they’re still trailing behind me like ducklings. Now that I'm not reeling from the shock of seeing a living person, let alone two, for the first time since I took a dip in the Grimm pools, I'm realizing what else changed due to said pools.

I could sense their emotions. It was odd, and it wasn’t like an empathy power, it was more just a general awareness. Like telepathy, but purely vibes instead of coherent thoughts. 

Fear, curiosity, fear, want, fear, follow

.. Okay, maybe some kind of thoughts..? I don't know how follow is an emotion. I don't know how these Grimm powers work anyways, it's not like I've had many things to test them on. 

I turn back around, glaring at them now. They stare back, although their fear spikes- I must look rather scary, tall and pale as I am. 

“Go. Away.” I say, firm and slow. They don't move- actually, they inch closer, caution and curiosity radiating off them. My annoyance spikes and I snarl, whipping a hand out and sending a wave of bright, fire-like magic at their feet. Of course, it's not actual fire, I wouldn't want to light the entire forest ablaze, but it does what I want it to. The humans yelp loudly, scrambling back in surprise at the sudden wild lights at their feet. I huff, letting the lights linger as I turn back around and trudge off, my shoulders tense from my flare of anger. 

I make it about five feet away before the lights die down, the humans staring at my retreating form.

I make it about ten feet away before I hear a familiar, rumbling snarl, and felt a sudden spike of fear fear TERROR-

I don't know what makes me turn around. I don't even know what makes me stop. All I know is that when their feelings of helpless fear hit me, my body moved before I could ignore them. 

Magic sliced clean through the lunging Beowolf, its ashes scattering over the terrified humans as it dies in midair. Their cries taper off as they realize the danger has passed, their adrenaline thrumming through the air. They look around wildly, eyeing the ashes that are slowly drifting to the ground, before they turn those big, doe-like eyes back to me- wait, fuck. No. No. Don't look at me like that. NO- 

I'm suddenly, vividly reminded of park signs that read “Do Not Feed the Animals!”

I feel like I just fed the animals. 

“God fucking dammit.”

“Ffuck!”

“ NO-”  

Chapter Text

The new humanity was.. Interesting, to say the least. It was truly fascinating to watch them as an observer and reluctant protector. Ever since I'd struck away that Grimm that tried to attack those two first humans I saw, they’d clung to me like children. Which.. They were, in a way. I was thousands of years older than them, the only remaining remnant of the first humanity, their ancestor, in an odd, not biological way. 

Being around them was dangerous, though. My sanity was so warped by both isolation and the Grimm lakes that I found the humans annoying at best. On really bad days, I couldn't stand to look at them, lest I lash out and become the first horror story of this world. I found I had a constant, underlying anger towards them, and while it was relatively easy to ignore most of the time, I still found myself glaring at them more often than not. 

Humans were humans though, and these guys quickly became good at surviving. I jokingly named them Adam and Eve, purely out of personal amusement and because Before, I had grown up in a Christian household, so it seemed.. Fitting. In a way. How was I supposed to know the little wretches would catch on so quickly?? 

For just being “born”, like, a couple weeks ago, they were weirdly good at doing stuff. 

Time passed. I was a watchful guardian over them, sometimes guiding them in how to do certain things like hunt, forage, build things- or find shelter, if building wasn't an option. I tried not to let them rely on me too much, they needed to be independent enough to grow and evolve as people. 

Their language was a steadily growing thing, heavily based on my own words, but occasionally they’d come to me with something new they found, a new, foreign word on their tongue, and I'd just.. Accept it. Do my best to remember the word. I’d adjust, I had time. Again, I wanted them to be independent. Leaning on me too much wouldn’t result in anything remotely good. 

Eventually we found more and more humans, our numbers growing. (When did it become “our”?) I named each of them, trying to aim for diversity, remembering names from fiction from my old world, or just common names from Before. Sometimes I said fuck it and named one of them with purple hair Twilight, assuring myself that literally nobody would ever understand that reference. 

I thought being around people after so long alone would eventually just drive me more insane, but it was.. Surprisingly easy to be around them- if I ignored the Grimm-fueled anger issues I had. As time progressed steadily, my sanity kind of plateaued, instead of getting worse like it had been. I was still deep in the clutches of mental unrest, but since the humans didn't have a reference for what was okay and what was not, when their little “Guardian” sunk into laughing fits that lasted longer than they should, they just shrugged and went back to surviving. 

And just like that, humanity progressed. Years passed, the humans aging while I stood next to them, unaffected by time. Adam and Eve had multiple children, as did other couples. They had a funny new tradition of bringing their babies to me and insisting upon me naming the little things, which I indulged in- though I kept it to firstborns only. I didn't want this to become a habit, I didn't know when I'd leave and I didn't want them to just leave nameless children about. 

Seasons came and went, the weather leaning toward the warm type, which suggested we were closer to this world’s equator. Winter was mild, and I never saw snow, but summers were just below boiling, which had me moving the people to a river to settle there. Due to this change, they adjusted to become a fishing town, with me teaching them how to make fishing poles but also the barebones of spear hunting- I had never actually done it before, but I knew how . They were good at it, quickly adapting to the water and the new environment. 

More humans came and went, sometimes staying, sometimes passing through. They were always cautious of me at first, which was understandable, but the others in town were always quick to reassure them that I was good. Which. Hm. Vaguely annoying, but I allowed it. 

I taught them how to fight Grimm as well. It was a tough process, explaining to them that no, I can't just kill every Grimm that tries to attack all the time, you need to learn how to fight them. I got stern with them then, which they didn't really appreciate, but what could they do? There were learning curves, and injuries, but I didn't let anyone die. I probably should’ve, just to stress the importance of defending against the Grimm, but.. Eh. I was attached, sue me. 

Since I didn't need to sleep, I didn't really have a house in the village- because that's what it was now. There were a few generations living there at this point, Adam and Eve now crooked and old in their age. They’ve lived surprisingly long, but I took good care of them, so it was only reasonable. I had a kind of.. Area, I suppose, in the middle of town. It was almost like a well with no hole, a wooden covering of an elevated stone platform, a couple feet thick and covered in soft river plants. I rested there when I wasn't active, often taking the form of a large wolf to ‘sleep’. 

Shapeshifting was still fun to do, though it did scare the hell out of the villagers when I first did it, especially because of my colors. But I could speak in any form I was in, so I made sure to let them memorize my looks so they wouldn't mistake a common Grimm for me. It was fun, sometimes, because the children found my furry forms endlessly amusing. They’d take great delight in climbing over my resting form, their bodies so light they hardly feel like anything. Their feelings of joy and playful curiosity were a balm to my soul- oddly enough I found the kids less annoying than the adults, which was surprising, but I didn't mind. 

Those kids grew up, and had kids of their own. Adam and Eve's line of children, who’s last name was self decided, which I loved, was called Reed, after the plants along the riverside. A simple but good name, and they basked in my approval. The Reed line stayed as the ‘leaders’ of the village, growing into the role with the expanding knowledge and history of their parents. I stayed by them, I'll admit to favoring them, it was inevitable but not a huge problem. 

Years turned into decades. 

I slowly, ever so slowly, pulled back more and more until the wooden covering in the middle of the village was more of a shrine than anything, and I prowled through the woods, keeping Grimm away. I stopped providing advice, I only visited the town during emergencies like natural disasters, and I slowly became a legend. They knew my name, Salem, but I had titles to them. The Beast Queen. The Wolf of the River. The River’s Shadow. All very elegant, and I inwardly grinned at their good choice of words. 

The rise of the Faunus was a fascinating phenomenon. They just kind of.. Appeared. I should’ve traveled more, but I got distracted by the people I had been stuck with. But about five hundred years after the start of humanity, Faunus were becoming increasingly common. I cursed myself for not being able to see the start of them, but when the first pair of animal-featured people showed up in the village, I decided to step forward. 

A man and a woman, both with darker skin, the man having dark grayish hair with big cat ears to match, probably panther from the coloring. The woman had more blue toned hair with wolfish ears, along with rather prominent fangs, while the man had darker, fur-like coloring along his shoulders and arms. 

The commotion that rose from their appearance snagged my attention, and at the sight of them had me coming out of the forest for the first time this year. The people of the village startled as I stepped out in my human form, looking up at me as I was still taller than everyone here- even the tallest man was shorter than me by at least a few inches. Whispers of reverence and awe followed me as I stalked forward, a loose black dress swaying just above my feet. My clothes were always simple and smooth, this one being no different. Sleeveless with a high collar, a simple black belt around my waist, the bottom of the dress ruffled and loose. Sleek, elegant, and vastly different than anyone else in the village could wear. 

Jay Reed, the current leader of the village, turned to face me with wide eyes and a spear in his hand. I remembered visiting him when his father died, and he inherited the title of leader at the age of 23. He was only 27 now. 

“What’s going on,” My voice is soft, but he can see in my eyes that I'm already critical of the situation. I watch him swallow and straighten, trying to project confidence. The Faunus wont stop staring at me. 

“Salem.. Uhm, these people came from the village up north, the place they call Raedin, farther down the river.” Jay shifts his feet, glancing at the Faunus with a distrustful look, his eyes lingering on their ears. 

I stare at him with a flat look, “How fascinating. However, I don't believe that's why you’re making such a fuss over them. We’ve had people from other villages come to us before, why are they any different?” 

This makes him hesitate, looking again at their animal features. I narrow my eyes, and when he looks back at me he winces, possibly realizing that my thoughts don't line up with his. 

“They.. Salem, they’re beasts !” He bursts out, flinging his hand out in their direction, the Faunus flinching at the sudden movement. I stare down at him with a cold expression until he resembles more of a scolded child than a village leader.

“Jay Reed, I don't know where this is coming from, but I won't stand by and watch you make a fool out of yourself.” I don't let him speak over me, though he does let out a wordless noise of protest. “The ones before you are not beasts, they are people. If it's the animal traits you are so concerned about, why? Why is this a problem for you? I can turn into animals, am I a beast , Jay?” My tone is cooler than ice, and Jay swallows, going a bit pale at the thought of insulting me. 

He stumbles over his words, starting and stopping incomplete sentences before I take pity on him and cut him off. “Jay. You are the leader of this village. I can't tell you what to do, but I can encourage you to make the right choices. Think about this for more than a few seconds.” I turn to the newcomers, who stiffen at the sudden attention on them. “You two, why have you come here?”

They hesitate, glancing at each other before the woman speaks. 

“We.. We were driven out of our town. We.. something happened with- with a God-” I twitched at the mention of a deity, annoyed again that I had missed the sight of the famed Animal God, “And we gained.. Animal features. More than just us, there are others with other animal traits. But our village didn’t recognize us, so we.. we just need a place to stay. Please.” She looks at Jay when she pleads, her ears flattening slightly to match the desperation in her eyes. 

I speak before Jay can, my voice a tad more gentle now. “Are you sick? Injured? Incapable of working? Have you committed any crimes?” They both shook their heads fervently, looking nervous at the questioning. I turn to Jay, who is now looking rather sheepish.

“Look at them, Jay. They’re just people who happen to look a little different. They can speak and act like anyone else, and they look strong. They’d be good for the village, just like any other capable person coming to us.” Jay sighs as I speak, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“Okay, okay, I get it, Salem,” He mumbles, looking thoroughly scolded. The crowd behind us mutters to themselves, but from the lessening feelings of fear distrust caution , I can tell they were listening to me. 

So that.. Happened. Of course there was a learning period, so I ended up staying in town to help soothe the transition of a whole new species being introduced to humanity. There were conflicts, small ones where new racial slurs were invented on the spot, but when Jay looked to me for guidance, I just shrugged and told them to fight it out. It's good to get aggression out of their system. Make it an official match and make them agree not to kill each other, and then just let them at it. 

That method was surprisingly effective, and after a few months of brawls and sneering looks, the Faunus were pretty much welcomed in the town I had started. The people had named the town Edever, which. Hm. I tried not to think too hard about it because I'd start laughing- it was literally just a combination of ‘Eden’ and ‘river’. I snickered a bit at the thought before quickly sobering up at the glances I got from passing folk. 

I had better ways to count the days now, carving marks into stones and keeping them in piles, about 10 marks per stone, about 10 stones per pile, that kind of thing. That turned into keeping marks on cave walls, carving them deep enough so that they wouldn’t fade over time.

By my (extremely rough) timekeeping, Humanity found Dust about 1000 years after they started roaming the Earth. Semblances and Auras, called Soulforms and Soulshields respectively, became well known and well used about a century after Humanity’s rise, though I didn't pay much attention to that. It was similar to magic, just far more limited and personal. I was powerful and well known enough to not have to hide my own magic too much, nobody questioning me too much. 

I started traveling over time. I circled the world, visiting towns and introducing myself as Salem because nobody knew my name in any context, Ozma still hadn’t reincarnated yet. 

The thought of him still hurt. Time heals all wounds, except when it doesn’t, apparently.

Time heals all wounds, but injuries left open will just get infected.

Some people recognized me as the River’s Shadow, especially whenever I shapeshifted around a town area, and unbeknownst to me, a kind of religion arose from my appearances. My appearance and magic had me looked upon as godly, and without my encouragement, stories turned into legends and myths. I was a timeless being, which only made the people more in awe of me. Stories were woven and warped about the goddess who could turn into any animal, aiding human and Faunus alike, looking so much like the Grimm but so much kinder, and more powerful. The Beast Queen, an uncontrollable force to be reckoned with should you cross her bad side. It was amusing, to listen to the tales spun about myself by others who only knew a couple facts about me and had witnessed a good deed or two. 

It's not like I really did anything, I still found most humans annoying, but nudging an exhausted mother out of a river she misjudged the strength of and conveniently killing some Grimm that were approaching a traveling caravan caught the people’s attention, apparently. I really should make it clear- I still didn't like humans. I hated most of them, honestly. The combination of my insanity and my Grimm parts made it physically almost impossible to truly care for these kinds of people. But somehow, I was able to hold some sliver of self control. I still hadn’t killed anyone yet, marvelously. A few limbs had been maimed, okay, but they started it. 

Well, actually. Correction.

I hadn't killed anyone innocent . Not like a psychopath. I killed plenty of slave traders and cruel people who took some wicked, odd delight in the blood they spilled, but I didn't really count them as people. They were worse than animals in my opinion, and would be treated as such. 

I thought it would be.. Harder than this, in a way. Seeing people, being around people, having to interact with humans. But it must’ve helped that I didn't , often. I stayed in beast form more often than not, taking the form of a fox or a tiger to prowl through forests and over open fields, only going into towns for a day or two at most before continuing my travels. 

It took one century for Soulforms and Soulshields to become usable.

It took five centuries for Faunus to appear on Remnant.

It took one millennium until Dust was found, though it was hard to use, and it would take another few centuries until people could really refine the crystals and figure out how to effectively use them for real fighting tactics. 

In what I counted as the year 2257, I felt something in the air shift . It was.. Hard to describe. It was as if the very atmosphere of the world were a solid thing, and it had just adjusted to accommodate something new entering it. 

I looked up and glanced around from where I had been walking, my current location being a snowy, icy landscape with packs of Goliaths roaming around- massive elephant-like Grimm, though these have a much more icy texture than the ones I've seen in warmer, wooded areas. Actually, all Grimm seem to have some kind of frost look to them here, the harsh temperatures forcing them to adapt. Humans were extremely scarce in these lands, the temperature always below freezing, even during the day, even in the middle of summer. The people that were here lived in small settlements, unlocking their aura at a younger age than most to boost their protection to the cold. The people here were surprisingly good at avoiding the Grimm as well, though that made sense- the inky black bodies of the Grimm were easy to see across the white expanse of the ice covered tundra. 

I was getting off track. Something just happened, and I didn't know what. It must’ve been something big, but at the same time not, because the Grimm nearby hadn’t reacted, so it.. Probably wasn’t something God related. I shuddered, slowly resuming my walk. It felt like the entire world just twitched , or like.. Something very old shifting into place. 

The feeling stayed with me for another three months, never fully leaving the back of my mind, the back of my soul, until I realized what it was. I was just finishing up a small rescue in the pine woods of northern Magistralis, which I'm pretty sure would become the continent known as Mistral- though that was far, far in the future. So it was known as Magistralis now. 

The woods are cold and thick, huge pine trees covered in snow, not as much underbrush due to the cold. Woodland critters are plentiful here, their coats pale due to the cold seasons, and Grimm are surprisingly few in this particular area. 

Perfect for traveling.

Perfect for.. Discrete traveling. 

Faunus slave traders, ones who raid small settlements and kidnap the younger ones while killing their older relatives, were far too common for my liking. Their current “cargo” was from a small pack that had settled in the farthest northern tip of Magistralis, self-sufficient and at least a mile away from the nearest town. 

I guess that's what made it easier to raid them. 

When I happened upon them in my travels, they were getting ready to move, the sun just above the horizon and casting a cool, bright light through the snowy trees. 

Their blood was such a vibrant red on the delicate, white flakes, I almost felt bad for getting the ground dirty with their worthless bodies. 

There were 4 living children in total, one had died during the journey. I'm pretty sure the only reason the bastards didn’t get rid of his body is because his sister wouldn't let them. They both had light blue hair, the boy had small horns poking out of his hair, and the girl had a scruffy, short goat tail. The other three looked unrelated, but their eyes shared traumas I was all too familiar with from my years spent on this world. 

The girl couldn’t speak, a hollow look to her eyes, but she clung to me like I was her mother, and I'm not ashamed to admit I might’ve visibly softened. A dark green haired girl with pale skin and deer hooves managed to whisper their names- The girl I held was Morgona, the boy’s name had been Mazin, her name was Isana, and the other two- light brown hair with a matching brown lizard tail and dark gray hair with a fluffy cat tail- were named Rylin and Ushka, respectively. Once they realized that one, their captors were dead and rapidly cooling in the snow, two, I was the one that killed them, and three, I was the magic wielding legend their parents told them about, they warmed up to me pretty fast. 

Faunus were pretty big worshippers of mine, apparently. Probably because I keep doing things like this, and my temples- which I apparently had???- were accepting of them when entire towns were not. I might’ve had to go around and personally tell the other worshippers that, but what was I supposed to do? Promote racism, or worse, just let it happen?? Absolutely not . So Faunus were known to frequent my temples as places of shelter and peace, believers of me or not. And those Faunus told children about me, their own or not, weaving living legends for the children to trust, painting a beautiful, powerful picture of a deity who would protect them if they ever saw her. 

Hng. The pressure was real . I was over a thousand years old though, I could handle it. Mostly. Maybe. God dammit i didn't have enough arms to hold all these kids- 

“Salem?”

A whisper, a quiet voice, a shift in the snow. I didn't recognize the voice, so in a split second I whipped around, large black wings snapping out of my back to cover the children from any attack, one arm curled protectively around Morgona and the other partially in front of me, my hand crackling with visible electricity. A show of power usually startled a person enough to give me time to analyze them, and it would be no different this-

Time… 

My body goes still. I don't even know if I'm breathing. My mind feels light, but a soul-deep sense of recognition floods through me, the man in front of me achingly familiar in more than one way. I’d first seen his face on a screen, I'd first seen his soul in an old tower that doesn't exist anymore. 

“.. Ozma..?”

Chapter Text

My voice is so, so quiet, and so, so delicate, but he hears me anyways. The snow muffles everything so the only sounds are the confused, nervous noises the children are making and the sound of two old souls breathing. 

I.. Gods. I hadn’t.. Forgotten about him, about his reincarnation, but I've just been so busy lately… Travelling had done exactly what I’d wanted it to- it had distracted me from thinking about my past too much. Ozma had just… slipped my mind. I suppose. 

But with him standing in front of me, my eyes took in more than a normal human could. I’d been able to see his magic before, and it turns out I still could. When I’d first seen him, approaching the Tower, I had been able to see his magic. It was bright, back then, and I hadn’t quite realized it but my ability to see magic was called ‘Mage Sight’. It was common among more powerful and experienced magic users, so it wasn’t some super rare genetic gift or anything, but it shouldn’t have been possible for a 16 year old to use it. 

However. Locked in a tower. Alone. With no real supervision? Eliza was lovely but she didn't really care what I did as long as I didn't hurt myself. My hobby was practicing magic. I used magic everyday for all sorts of random things while most other apprentices my age used it for training purposes, maybe for a couple hours every day. My power had doubled after just one year of using magic, and had continued to grow at a semi-steady pace for the past centuries. 

So Mage Sight wasn’t all too unusual for someone who used magic like I did. Though Ozma’s reaction had been amusing when I told him about it, the only person he’d seen capable of Mage Sight before had been one of his Master’s Master, an old man who practiced earth magic and told Ozma what color his magic was. 

Anyways . I’m getting off track. With the first incarnation of Ozma before me, I saw something I hadn't seen in over a thousand years- someone’s magic. It was definitely the same color as Ozma's, an achingly familiar bright, light green that shined like sunlight. It had a rather unique movement as well, swirling around him like he had a gravitational pull, his magic circling his body in slow, lazy swirls. Although.. Hm. It was definitely less than before- still a strong amount, but it didn't quite shine like it used to, and there was visibly less of it. And the movement seemed… twitchy. Glitchy, almost. And the colors were different, the lime green lights streaked with-

S i l v e r - ?

It was.. Different. 

Well, what did I care? He’d died and reincarnated, of course his magic looked different, his soul had left this world entirely. I forced myself to breathe, folding my wings back into my skin, the feathers disappearing with a roll of my shoulders. I took a few hesitant steps forward, Ozma doing the same until we were just a foot away from each other, maybe less. Close enough to see my reflection in his eyes. Close enough to see his shoulders rise and fall with his breaths. Close enough to- 

Our hands touched. We had reached out to one another- I hadn't even realized. 

I hadn’t even realized.. Just how long it had been since we last touched one another. It had been over a thousand years since humanity had risen from the ashes the Gods deigned to leave behind, and longer still since I had put Ozma’s original body in the ground. I had spent millennia alone, wandering this planet that slowly, ever so slowly grew back to a mere shadow of its former glory. Even now it's still new. I have tens of thousands of years to spend on this planet…

And now Ozma is back with me. 

I hadn’t realized how much I'd missed him until he was right here in front of me. 

“Salem..” He murmurs, his voice is so soft , so hauntingly unfamiliar yet the accent and tone he had before remains unchanged. It’s unusual to hear, and will definitely take some getting used to, but it's so achingly Him that all I feel is bone-deep relief to have him next to me once more. 

“Ozma,” I whisper back, and I really don't know what to say at this point. I was completely unprepared for this, this reunion was different than the original one I remember, although I suppose I did travel a bit more than the original Salem. I didn't have a house to bring him back to though, not in this area anyways, what should I- 

A small body squirms in my arms and my senses come flooding back. I have a child in my arms, right. And three others behind me- they had walked with me, the poor babes, clinging to the loose folds of my dress like I'm their mother. Fear anxious concern cold was emanating off all of them, although Morgona was dripping heavily with grief , enough to possibly attract any Grimm passing by. 

The situation sinks in and I right myself, taking a deep, slow breath. 

“We.. I need to bring these kids to the town nearby.” My voice is shaky and soft, my breath clouding lightly in front of me- us. Ozma stares at me for a moment longer before he slowly blinks, his gaze drifting down to the young faunus in my arms. He darts a glance back to the caravan, his eyes lingering on the bodies in the snow as recognition flickers in his gaze. He must’ve been here long enough to learn about the faunus and the.. Problems they face. 

Luckily, I can feel his emotions just like anyone else, and I easily pick up on the nervous wary relief love tired feelings swirling inside him like the look of his magic. He must’ve been traveling for a while, looking for me.. A surge of affection curls in my chest, warming my blackened heart. 

He nods, seemingly as wordless as I am in the moment.

The journey back isn’t too difficult. I shift into a huge horse, just large enough for Ozma and the four kids to ride on my back- Ozma holding Morgona on his back, her arms wrapped around his neck and her snuggled safely under his jacket, with the three others in front of them, their backs pressed to the ones in front of them. They’re all wrapped in the spare clothes the slave traders were carrying, the garments far too big for them but still able to provide more coverage than the ragged cloths they had on earlier. 

I set a steady pace, not going too fast for fear of jostling the little ones too much, but not going too slow because these kids didn’t have access to their Auras- whether they didn't know how or they were broken, I didn't know- and I’d feel terrible if they froze to death. 

Luckily, the town wasn't far. About 15 minutes, give or take. Ozma, patient as always, was doing a good job of keeping the children warm and calm. His emotions had settled slightly, his form emanating a quiet concern wary love protection . Warmth curled in my chest- while I’d never been able to sense Ozma’s feelings before, I’d known him. His presence was familiar to me, his breath an old memory I forgot I'd experience again. Even though I never felt his emotions before, they felt comforting, almost nostalgic in a way. Which was nice, because I really didn't have much to feel nostalgic about. 

My hooves hit smooth dirt and I blinked- we’re in the town. It’s nothing magnificent, humanity’s progression has been relatively slow compared to my previous knowledge. The houses are made of thick stone bricks, not dissimilar to modern brickwork but more.. Natural looking, to put it kindly. Others were made with wooden logs, those ones looking a little bit more put together. All of them having slanted roofs and either thick wooden doors or no doors at all, just a simple doorway. 

The building I'm aiming for though- that one’s a bit more significant. 

If I were to compare it to a building I knew from Before, I'd say the temple before me had Roman or Greek elements, with Asian highlights. Tall, large pillars, open spacing with wide, doorless doorways. Carvings of animals adorned the pillars and walls, prowling wolves and soaring ravens. 

I’ll give you three guesses for who this temple is for, and the first two don't count. 

I shift back into my human form, my bones shifting back into place as my dress falls over my torso, the ends swaying just above my feet. I scoop up the green haired girl and the boy with the lizard tail, Isana and Rylin. Isana burrows into my embrace while Rylin squirms until he’s clinging to my back, curled claws digging into my shoulders, which I don't pay any mind to. If anything it's nostalgic of my cat, who would always dig her sharp claws into my shoulder when I held her. 

Ozma keeps Morgona on his back, and copies me, gently picking up Ushka and letting her cling to him. I walk up the first couple steps before hesitating, glancing back at him. He meets my gaze, pausing and looking at me curiously. 

“Just.. uhm,” I mutter, awkwardness creeping up on me as I realize what he’s about to experience, “Don't.. be weirded out too much. Please. I never asked them to do all this, it just sort of.. Happened.” Ozma blinks at my words, but gives me a nod despite his obvious confusion. I sigh slowly before continuing up the stairs. 

Stepping inside the temple is always interesting, they’re different in every town. This one, being in a town with a northern, colder climate, has torches and fire pots burning 24/7 for heat, making the inside of the temple warm and smoke-scented. There are carvings of animals and words covering most of the walls, huge wolves and sturdy horses depicted with darker, charcoal coloring, making them stand out. The words are in this region's local dialect- languages were pretty diverse still, this early in human history. It was a pain in the ass to learn all of them, but with the context clues from my ability to sense emotions and ability to read body language, I could make it work until I got the hang of the basics. 

The ceiling was tall as well, the building itself noticeably bigger and taller than most other buildings in the town. The temple itself had 3 floors- the main floor for entering the temple, worshiping, and sharing food. The lower floor was a kind of basement where the dry food was kept, along with ice boxes to preserve meat and fruits for later consumption. The upper floor was living quarters, but more specifically- and the reason I came here- the upper floor held a small orphanage. Every temple had it. Children brought to.. ‘My’ temples for sanctuary are taken in as apprentices and disciples, given food, clothing and a place to live for as long as they wish. They do usually end up getting roped into the religion due to the exposure, but.. I tried to tell the priests not to pressure the little ones but eventually children grow up and make their own decisions. If they decide to stay at the temple and worship… Well. there's not much I can do about it- what am I going to say, no??  Besides, it's not like every child got.. Indoctrinated. So. 

I’m brought out of my musings by an approaching seren and a young sumine - the temple’s equivalents of a priest and a disciple. The titles vary slightly in pronunciation in regions far away from each other, mainly due to language differences again, but their roles remain the same, and are slightly comparable to what I remember from Christian churches- Serens are guiding leaders who provide order, support and encouragement to those they shepherd. Serens are usually the ones I speak directly to, if I speak to them at all. But they usually manage to remain calm in my presence, which helps me tolerate them better than most other temple goers, which might also be why they are risen to higher rank. Even the word seren is derivative of the word serenity , a title given by me after insistent begging from some original worshippers a few centuries ago.

Sumines are younger and/or more inexperienced folk who join the temples and are still in the process of learning it’s teachings and traditions. The sumines are mostly consisted of the children who live in the temple, along with a few outside people scattered in the mix. They’re a bit more enthusiastic with me, having been learning all about my legends and stories of protection, so it's sometimes a struggle not to get too annoyed with them. 

The seren who greets me is a middle aged figure with long dark brown curly hair, tied back out of her face, along with dark skin and green eyes. She has a few scars, gashes along her forearms and a small slash through her eyebrow. The sumine following her is barely a teenager, maybe 13 at most . A boy with short cut, curled black hair and lighter brown skin, his dark brown eyes wide with reverence at the sight of me. They might be related, with how close he’s following behind her. 

Not everyone who looks remotely similar is related, Salem, I mutter in my mind, before directing my focus to the two people in front of me. 

“My Lady!” The seren bows deeply at the waist, her sumine following her lead with a flustered edge to his movements. I wince at the bold move of respect,

“Please, rise,” I murmur quickly, embarrassment prickling along my shoulder blades as I remain overly conscious of Ozma standing beside me, watching the whole thing. The seren obeys, a hand on her sumine’s shoulder to steady him as he stares up at me with wide eyes.

“Tis an honor for thy steps to grace these halls, my lady,” The seren speaks, her head tilted back slightly to look up at me. It takes me a moment for her words to translate in my mind, and even then her words are a bit olden style compared to my English from Before. I can also feel her amazement curiosity awe, but she keeps a neutral face. That’s a thing I sincerely like in serens, and I smile lightly at her, trying to project calm friendliness. 

“The honor is mine, to enter a place of such grandeur of mine own name, treasured seren.” A bit of flattery never hurt anyone, and the pleased/proud feelings she emanates affirms that fact. “Alas, I am not hither of the meetest circumstances. I came across a band of slave traders in mine travels, and saw fit to.. relocate the children in their care. I hope thou hast room inside thy temple for a few more wayward souls..?” Gods beyond this language is hilarious . It’s like old English, the way I'm translating it. It’s a bit of a pain, but I really have no right or reason to talk down about it- not that I am! It's just amusing to listen to, that's all! Oh my gods , stop thinking about it, honestly-

“Of course my Lady! Thou honors us with thy trust, we would be happy to take in these little ones. Ah, mine name is Ranger,” The now named seren motions to the lumine at her side, “And this one’s name is Pine.” The boy smiled up at me as he was introduced, the look in his eyes still awe-filled, and he dips into a bow before I could even think of addressing him. 

“Tis an honor for you to grace us with your presence, mine Lady!” The boy- Pine- chirps, still radiating excitement. I smile in a fond but tired way- as much as I appreciated children and their positive attitudes, sumines always had an edge of faithful, borderline obsessive worship to their feelings that came with growing up in a church, and it just rubbed me the wrong way. 

Luckily for all of us, the seren isn’t a fool. She wastes no time ushering us and the little ones upstairs, showing Ozma and I our room- to share. I asked for it. Ozma nodded along. I could’ve kissed him right then and there, if I couldn't feel the slowly growing feelings of shock disbelief curious wary . I needed to catch him up to speed, immediately. The children are taken away to an empty room a few doors down, and just before they leave I gently tell them that they can stop by my room if they need anything. The kids seem nervous to leave my side, but with some coaxing from their fellow youngin Pine, they allow themselves to be led away, glancing back at me nervously. I stand outside the door, watching them go and offering reassuring smiles until they enter their room, out of sight. 

I slip into the room they gave us before the seren or sumine has a chance to snag me for more conversation. 

Ozma is sitting on the single bed in the room, a bigger one that might be called a full size, though these days that size is just called a luxury. I distantly realize that this room must belong to one of the serens, due to it’s neatness and the fact that it’s a slightly larger, more comfortable size than the other rooms I saw. Other hints to this assumption are the desk littered with religious scrolls and a shelf full of more scrolls and other religious items- wooden carvings of my animal forms, a decorative bone knife with delicate carvings curling over its handle, candles made of animal fat. All things that could really only be found in a temple or place of safe, higher standing. 

What with Grimm being such a prevalent predator, humans were progressing both slower and faster than I thought they might. They focused on more things survival- they were in the middle of their stone age, and though stone weapons normally wouldn’t even touch the average Grimm, a universal problem made humans smart . Not smart enough to realize that hating faunus was a wasteful pastime, but I'm not going to get into all that right now. 

Right now, I wanted nothing more than to get into Ozma , who was still just sitting pretty on the bed large enough for both of us- well. I'm a bit tall for it, but I'd make it work. 

I would’ve made it work if he wasn't being smothered by feelings of confusion caution nervous. Sadly, it looks like our “reunion” would have to wait a little while. 

“Ozma,” I murmur, settling down beside him, the bed creaking under me. He looks at me- looks up at me, even sitting down I'm more than a few inches taller than him. Damn it all, it’ll take a while for the both of us to get used to the.. Size difference, now. 

Dammit . Every part of me, both mentally and physically, wanted nothing more than to wrap myself around him. Keep him close, always . Never let him go, now that he’s back. He’s here, he’s inches away from me, why aren’t we closer ? Why can't I get closer ? Embracing isn't enough , hell, sex wouldn't even be enough . I need to be inside him , that's the only way we can be close enough . I can shapeshift , his ribcage can stretch a little to fit me -

OKAY, WOW. I blink hard . Jesus fuck . I think I just reached a whole new level of freaky ness. My head felt.. Weird. Foggy, almost, but not quite. All I could really feel was the overwhelming urge to be as close to Ozma as physically possible. That.. that wasn’t normal. I mean, I know I'm insane, but I haven't felt like this before- .. Ah. I hadn’t had a reason to feel like this before. Now, with my love before me for the first time in hundreds of thousands of years, I felt feelings I hadn't felt since he.. 

I blink at Him. He had said something, from the way He was looking at me expectantly. 

I think this is the first time I've blinked since the kids left. 

“Salem?” I’m still staring. I can practically feel my mind unraveling in His presence, who knew He’d have such an effect on me after being away for so long? 

I sigh slowly, leaning into Him and burying my face in His pearly white hair. He lets me, and I feel a burst of affection from Him at my touch. 

“I’ll answer your questions, love, just.. Please be patient with me. I’ve been alone for.. So long..” My voice is low, but He hears me loud and clear, His emotions ringing with newfound sympathy worry love concern. He wraps His arms around my torso, keeping me close in a hug, and it takes a surprising amount of willpower not to hug Him back tight enough to break every rib He has. I settle with wrapping my long arms around Him and curling around Him, covering most of His body with my own, inhaling His scent, listening intently to His heartbeat. 

I was clingy before, so He doesn’t protest, but I can tell this is a whole 'nother level of clinginess. I’ll have to watch myself. 

“Of course, Princess,” An old pet name- I just realized we’ve been speaking in our language. Our language, one that nobody else knows anymore, one that hasn't been spoken in countless years. It scratches an itch in my brain, one I didn't even know I had until now. A much younger me might’ve cringed at the typical babygirl nickname, but I knew He was literally calling me by my title. I was a princess, even if I wasn't always treated as such back then. “I’ll always listen to you, you don't even need to ask. I won't leave you again, not any time soon, not if I can help it.” 

… damn . 

Ooohh this isn't helping the craziness. DAMN. I forgot how much of a smooth talker He is. 

I’m gonna break this fuckin bed, I think numbly, because He’s in my arms, and I’m in His, and nobody else is here, and suddenly we’re kissing, and I can feel sparks flying- literally , because our magic is setting of sparks due to the onset of emotions and I haven't felt him in so long and- 

And-

.

.

.

What do we do now?

Whatever we like. 

Chapter Text

Having Ozma back after so long was comparable to my first steps outside of the Tower. Experiencing something I had once known, after so long alone … I know I wasn't technically alone these days. I interacted with people enough, I knew people’s names. But it was just.. Different , with Ozma. He was the only one who knew me, before.. Before I ended the world we both knew. Before the Gods decided to fuck off to who knows where, before I was left alone again-  

Well. I wasn't alone anymore . And I wouldn't be for a while, not if I could help it. 

Memories of her- my- story flickered in my mind, but I didn't linger on those thoughts, shoving them away. Not desperately, no, I had no reason to panic about this. I was different- sure, I’d followed the script so far, but now that Ozma was back with me, I could change some things. We were far enough back in time that I'm like.. 90% sure that any changes I make wouldn't make the future explode. 

.. 85%? 

… 80%. 75, and dropping as my thoughts argue about the butterfly effect. 

I ignore the noise and cuddle closer to Ozma. It was a tight fit on the bed, but we made it work. So what if I was curled around him like an overgrown dog? That just meant I was surrounding him, that was good! The more I covered him, the less likely it was that he could get hurt by an attack. Not that I thought we’d get attacked in the middle of my own temple, in a closed room on the second floor, but… you can never be too sure. 

That's anxiety, my brain mutters.

You’re anxiety.

… Really? You’re like, thousands of years old, and THAT'S the response you give to your OWN BRAIN?? 

Die die die die Explodes you with my mind-

I AM YOUR MIND- 

Breaking off that lovely (insane) train of thought, I purposefully ignore the fact that I have my magic coating almost the entire temple, feeding me information on who is where so that I can keep track of everyone and be prepared if anyone starts walking toward our room. That's not anxiety, that's being safe. And I needed to keep Ozma safe. He didn't have as much magic anymore- he was still powerful, of course, but it seemed like he had a much smaller store to draw from now. 

That was okay though, I know I'm powerful enough to handle anything too big for him. I mean, not that there's much that could cause him trouble, but just in case. And he’s still mortal! Yes he can reincarnate, but it's not the same! I don't want to-

See his body see his corpse bury him again lose him again I cant I cant I cant again again I won't be ALONE AGAIN-

Go through the trouble of finding him again, that's all. 

That's all. 

That’s

All - 

A small wheeze snaps me out of my thoughts, and as I refocus I realize there's a feeling of mild discomfort radiating off the man next to me. 

“Sal’m.. Lov… can’.. Bre’ve..” He mumbles, his words stifled from how his cheek is squished against my chest. I make a small, amused noise, reluctantly loosening my grip enough for Ozma to take a deep breath, shifting in my grip. He squirmed, as if trying to get some space between us, but that was a ridiculous idea. Coincidentally, my arms had totally lost all feeling in them- fallen asleep, sadly. (They couldn't actually do that anymore, for whatever reason. My legs couldn't ‘fall asleep’ either, which was nice, definitely a pro of.. Whichever magic curse caused that. But Ozma didn't need to know that detail, not right now at least.)

He gave up quickly, thank goodness. I can tell he wasn't actually really uncomfortable, at least not uncomfortable enough to feel. 

My internal struggle of whether or not to really loosen up my arms for him disappeared from my mind when he hugged his arms around my waist, nuzzling up into my neck. 

I'm so glad I'm a woman, I think idly, ignoring how warm my cheeks are and how Ozma smiles against my skin, all too knowing of how sensitive my neck is. 

We can't do it in this bed. You’re in your temple. This is his first reincarnation. We just found each other yesterday. He needs time. We cannot do it in this bed.  

I can't believe I'm cockblocking myself. I can't believe I just thought that sentence, gods-

“Salem..” His voice pulls me out of my thoughts once more. He’s so good at doing that- snagging my attention. Like a light in the darkness, I can't help but look at him. 

I find him gazing back up at me, his eyes soft from sleep, but I can feel a growing curl of unease and uncertainty emanating from him. I focus then, realizing he’s wanting to have an actual conversation. 

“What.. What are we going to do now?” He murmurs, none of his nervousness leaking into his voice, but I can feel it nonetheless. I blink slowly, like a cat, and idly run my fingers through his hair as I think over his words. 

“We can do.. Whatever we want, love.” I reply simply, because it's true. Two immortals, the last two people with magic, who only truly know each other? “As long as we stay together, we can do anything. We can explore this world, go wherever we want, be anything we want.” 

I pause on the last line, though. 

I.. can't, can I? Be anything. I’m.. I’m stuck, as I am. A half Grimm, half original human monstrosity that’s worshiped far and wide as a god. Ozma, being the free soul he is, can truly embody my words- he can do anything he wants with his life, and when he's done, he can start over and pick something new.

Me, on the other hand? 

I will be here. I will be me, despite how much I hate it. I won't change, not in the hundreds of thousands of years to come. 

I stare unseeingly as that reality hits me. Was this what She felt like? The original me? Did Salem realize that her and Ozma would never be able to walk the same path together? Is that why she was able to be angry at him so easily?

I could never imagine being furious enough at Ozma to kill him, but… 

Small blonde heads of hair. Bright eyes, tiny hands, sparkling balls of magic.

Four girls. Four seasons. Four maidens?

.. Will I? The future is such a terrifying thing. 

I hate kids. 

And yet.

I have a reputation for being soft with them. I'm well known to be merciful and gentle with children. I'm always lenient with them. I've killed dozens of criminal, merciless people who looked to take advantage of young, innocent lives. 

Would I kill the one I love most, if I had children of my own? 

I couldn't imagine it.

Bright, platinum blonde hair, the same as mine used to be, just a couple shades paler due to Ozma’s genetics. Fair skin. Blue eyes, maybe? Or would they be hazel, like His were originally? 

Tiny, delicate bodies. 

Four girls. 

Four babies.

“-and I heard about a continent that has jungles that span thousands of yin, they say that the trees disappear into the horizon.” 

I blink, and the world comes rushing back into focus. It’s like your ears popping on an airplane, or when you’re driving down a big hill. Ozma is talking about.. Travel? About going across the sea, over the mountains. He doesn't know that I've already mapped out this world dozens of times, even in more recent times, and that I have relatively current knowledge of all major villages across the lands. 

That doesn't really matter though. It’ll be different this time, since he’s here with me. I won't just be talking to myself or looking around in silence, I'll be able to discuss the environment around us as we make our way through various areas. It would be nice, to walk through a village with Ozma, and talk about the things we come across. Maybe we could point out similarities between current items and ones from our time. 

Similarities.. I glance at the opposite wall, eyeing the religious decorations. Religious decorations of my religion . Well. “Mine” is a loose term, but the religion is still based on me, even if I'm not the one who really started it- at least not on purpose. 

But… How does Ozma feel about this..? He was raised in a church for gods’ sake, a church based around the Brothers, who are the real creators of this world. While I'm not praised as a creator deity- I'm seen as more of a protector or guardian deity- it could still be considered blasphemous from his perspective, since he knows I'm not really a god. As much as I don't give a shit about the Brothers, I care about Ozma, and what he thinks of me. 

Anxiety claws at my mind, an unfamiliar sensation after spending so long on my own- what did I have to be anxious about if it was just me and the Grimm? Even when I am around people, I don't get the same sense of worry. 

I can’t tell if it’s because I love Ozma, and therefore hold him close to my heart, or if it’s because I consider other humans lesser than him, like the original Salem did. I mean.. they are, kind of. They can’t do magic, and are therefore fundamentally lacking compared to the humans of my time. But they do have semblances and auras, which my people didn’t have. Does it balance it out? 

Does it matter? A “different voice” gripes in response, humans are all pieces of shit anyways. 

Except Ozma, the first voice says pointedly, and I can almost imagine it giving the different voice some serious side eye. 

Except Ozma, the second voice agrees, albeit reluctantly. 

I’m genuinely insane, wow, I muse to myself, idly realizing that I’m having full blown conversations. Again. This isn’t exactly new, what with me myself and I being the only conversation partners during the time before humans. It definitely died down when I started communicating with the people around me more, but apparently it still pops up.

We’re ignoring Ozma again, one of the voices says in an idle tone, and I stiffen as I realize Ozma is in fact staring at me, as if waiting for me to realize he stopped talking. 

“Ah.. sorry,” I mumble, feeling a burst of embarrassment and shame at being seen like that. Even if Ozma is only radiating feelings of calmsleepyinterestedcurious and not anything judgmental, I know it’s still really weird to see your partner(? Lover? Wife..?- wait no we never got married-) disassociating like that, especially when ‘disassociating’ doesn’t really exist in this time period. 

Ozma just smiles at me, like the absolute angelic sweetheart he is, 

“Salem, please, it’s alright. I know seeing me again must come as such a shock to you, especially if you’ve spent this much time alone. I don’t expect you to be the exact same as when I.. left.” He finishes in a stilted tone, and my stomach twists violently at the thought of His first death. I decide to focus on His other words, my heart melting at the constant compassion He shows me. 

Although, one part makes me pause. ‘ Seeing me again must have come as such a shock to you ..’ I go still as I realize something. Ozma blinks up at me, feeling my body tense. 

“Ozma.. what do you think about seeing me after so long? I realize I didn’t really ask.. you do realize what I am now, right?” His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before clearing up. 

“You mean your appearance? I just thought.. it was an age thing-“ I snort loudly at that, and He gives a sheepish smile. “I’m serious! Nobody’s ever lived as long as you have, even the Grand Masters of legend were only said to have lived for a thousand years, and I know it’s been more than that by now. So I just thought your magic had affected you after a while.” 

I turn His words over in my mind, trying to see it from his perspective. Logically, it.. wasn’t too far fetched, I suppose. He knows I’m powerful, and those with powerful magic were depicted as ‘more than human’ in legends from time to time. There was an old story that Ozma favored about a legendary wizard who’s eyes had turned completely silver, the pupil, iris and sclera all turning a swirling, shining silver. Another legend I heard had a warrior who had thick fangs and jaws strong enough to snap bones clean in half. So with that in mind, it wouldn’t be too weird to assume that my appearance was due to my magic continuing to grow with time. 

Mmgh.. now I really don’t wanna tell Him the truth.. but lying to Him would only cause some serious problems in the long run. If He finds out later than I lied, nothing good would come of it, and it would only be a source of unnecessary conflict. 

… but I really don’t want to tell Him that I tried to ‘kill myself’ by diving headfirst into a Grimm pool… Even if I knew I wasn’t going to die, I can’t explain how I knew that- or, well. I could, but that would be really risky, revealing my knowledge of the far, far future like that. So it’s either tell Him I jumped into a Grimm pool to try and die, or tell Him I jumped into a Grimm pool because there wasn’t anything else to do, and because I had to, and because I’d look a lot cooler if I did. 

.. not that last part, but still. 

I groan internally, torn between two choices. The truth, but in what form? 

“Well,” I start slowly, carefully picking my words out, “In a way, you are.. Partially right, I suppose. But this appearance is specifically because..” My mind scrambles. Suicide or fate, suicide or fate, suicide or fate- or boredom? Could that work?? It's the easiest option- aghh but I’ll sound like such a fucking idiot- “I.. fell into a Grimm pool.” Ozma’s eyes widen comically. “... On purpose.” 

He jolts up into a sitting position, a look of alarm on His face. 

“Salem! Why would you- Of all the things- A Grimm pool?!” Wow, for once The Ozma Himself is having trouble speaking. I should give myself an award after I survive explaining this. There’s a growing pause where I struggle with my words for the first time in millennia as Ozma stares at me, waiting for me to respond. 

“Ozma..” Why is this so hard to say, it's not like I was actually trying to-

A lake of cold, oily-looking tar is the only thing I can see from the tall rock that’s leaning over it’s surface. 

I’ve traveled the entire world at this point.

There’s nobody left.

The Grimm hunt me at every chance they get, I'm tired of running away from them all the time.

…

I'm so tired. I hate this. Everyone is dead. He is dead. No matter what I do, I can't join them. How many times have I been ripped apart by Grimm, just for my own, traitorous body to knit itself together? Nothing I do works. I don't want to be here anymore. Why did I do this. 

…

I’m so tired. 

“There was nothing left.” I don't recognize my own voice. I haven't been this quiet- this delicate, since- since He rescued me from the Tower. “After- after the Brothers left, after they-”

“ You are all that remains of Humanity.”

“ Left , there was.. Nothing. Everyone died , Ozma, their bodies reduced to ash and dust. I was- I was alone, again, everyone was gone , I just-” My throat feels tight, my body tense- trembling?- and my intestines tightening around themselves. My eyes burn, but not tears fall. “You were.. You weren’t here anymore. Nobody was. I lasted a while, but- Ozma, I was so tired .”

I still am, I think. 

Oh gods, did I really-? No, no I- I only did it because I had to, because- because that's how the story goes! That’s what happens , I was just- I was just following the script! 

I ‘ m  s o  t i r e d .

I didn’t.. I wasn’t.. 

I wasn’t.. Trying to kill myself. Not really. I knew it wouldn't work, obviously. I just-

I just wanted to feel something else. Anything else. I had tried to kill every other thing on this planet, there was only one thing I truly hadn’t tried. Maybe it would work, since I'm different? Maybe something has changed. Maybe, maybe… 

Maybe I Could See Him Again If I Just

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I’m so tired.