Chapter Text
She was dying.
That much was certain. She felt it as she lay there in the pool of her own blood, her weapon - a staff - lay at her side, her fingers just out of reach. The pain was gone, but that was only because she couldn't feel it any more, her body was shutting down, her lungs struggling to breath, her vision turning black, she was cold, so very cold. She didn't know how long she'd been lying there but she didn't care, it was over now, the nightmare, the pain, the madness, all over. It was time for her to sleep, it was time for her to be at peace.
She strained her head to look at her killer once more, he stood before her, the moon behind him blocking out his features, the only thing she could make out was his clothes and his saw cleaver stained with her blood. Even if she couldn't see his face, she knew that he wasn't satisfied with the outcome.
He didn't want to kill her, but she had gone too far, he had to put her down, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. Such was the cruel oath of the Hunter of Hunters.
He stood over her, a dark silhouette against the moonlight behind him. His eyes, even though she couldn't see them, were full of remorse, and guilt. He was a friend to her once, Hunter of the Dream and her fellow Hunter, he had hoped that even if he couldn't save everyone in the city he would at least save those close to him.
He couldn't.
Like he couldn't save the little girl from being eaten by the pig and since then he was slowly losing the ones he wanted to save slip through his fingers, like grains of sand in an hourglass. Now he was forced to take the life of a good friend. He knew the moment he struck her down he would be forever cursed to remember this moment and his sins would be his alone to carry.
His would be a lonely path from now and soon he'll be broken like her. But before that, she needed to harden his heart, to numb himself to the pain, he couldn't do his job if he continued to feel every loss. So he would stand over her, he would watch her life bleed away and when her eyes finally close, he would mourn the friend that he couldn't save.
"Oh, Good Hunter..." Ruby's voice was barely above a whisper, a single tear rolling down her cheek, her hand outstretched, "Thank you..."
He didn't answer.
Ruby's hand fell limp to the ground, her last words dying on her lips.
The Good Hunter lowered his weapon and turned away, never once looking back.
It was done.
The Red Moon was the last thing Ruby ever saw before the world went dark.
Her last thought was the hope that her death would have meant something and that the Good Hunter wouldn't suffer long.
Then it was gone.
A small part of her mind expected the world to be bright, an endless expanse of white space or if the scriptures were to be believed then a place of suffering and torment, where she belongs for all the atrocities she committed.
It was neither of those things.
She felt nothing, she saw nothing, heard nothing, she wasn't even sure if she was alive anymore, was this what happens when you die? Eternal peace and a blissful quiet, a reward for those who served their penance in life, then that must be what happened, she got the peace she was owed and no longer has to suffer.
Yet she was still conscious, and she didn't feel the peace and relief she was supposed to.
She opened her eyes and saw an endless sea of red.
It was a dark crimson, an all too familiar shade of red.
Blood.
And she was floating downwards deeper into the sea of blood.
She wasn't drowning, in fact, she wasn't even surprised, but rather a feeling of resignation, of acceptance.
It was almost comforting.
She closed her eyes and let the waves gently pull her deeper.
She felt herself sinking further and further, until her back was resting on something soft and solid. It felt like the ground, she could feel her fingers dig into the ground, she opened her eyes and looked up, expecting to see the surface of the Blood Sea, but instead, she was staring up at the blue sky, a flock of birds flying overhead, a gentle breeze blowing across the trees, flowers swaying to and fro, their petals caressed by the wind.
She was laying in the middle of a meadow, a beautiful place of nature and serenity.
If she was in any other circumstance, she would have admired the beauty around her, but right now, all she could do was lay there and stare up at the sky, wondering why this was happening, was she dead or was she dreaming? If she was dead, then what was this place and why did she end up here? She didn't deserve this, she deserved to burn for all eternity.
The wind blew gently against her cheek and she turned her head, looking out at the meadow.
The field was full of white flowers, their petals blowing lazily in the breeze, the trees rustling in the wind, the birds chirping happily as they flew overhead.
She sat up and looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening.
Where was she? Was this heaven? Was this hell? Or was she still alive and this was all just a dream?
She didn't know. All she knew was that she was alone.
She looked down on the white flowers crumpled beneath her, their white petals stained blood red, she stared at the color in the flowers for a while before the wind blew again and she raised her gaze and stared ahead of her.
Then a single tear rolled down her cheek, her silver eyes reflecting the beauty of the flowers and the sky above. She blinked, yet another tear fell down her cheek, she blinked again, trying to stop the tears, but she couldn't, she didn't know why, but the tears wouldn't stop, they kept falling and falling and soon they started flowing, like a river.
She was crying, the first time in a long time, her eyes burning as the tears continued to fall, her cheeks wet with the salty liquid, her lips trembling as the sobs racked her body.
She cried.
For what, she didn't know.
She just cried.
And as the tears fell, she could feel her pain and anguish, the sorrow and guilt that had been building up within her ever since her hunt began, it was all pouring out of her, her body wracked with the sobs that tore from her throat, her eyes burning with the tears that flowed freely from her eyes, her chest aching with the weight of the sorrow that had consumed her, the pain and agony that had taken hold of her heart.
She cried, her cries echoing through the meadow, her body shaking with each sob, her eyes burning as the tears fell, her throat raw with the cries that tore from her lips, her heart aching with the sorrow that was consuming her.
How many had she killed? How many had fallen to her blade? How many had suffered because of her? How many had she lied to? How many had she betrayed?
All the faces, all the names, all the voices, they all flashed through her mind, the screams of the people she had slain, the cries of the innocents that had fallen to her blade, the sobs of the people that had been betrayed by her.
There was no method to stop the Beast Scourge. No matter how hard she fought, no matter how many she killed, the Beasts were always there, waiting, lurking in the shadows, ready to strike. And if she had killed one, three more would rise in its place.
She was fighting a losing battle, and she knew it. She was fighting a war that could not be won, and yet, she had to keep fighting, had to keep killing, had to keep killing, had to keep killing. The blood was infecting the city, the streets were running red, the bodies were piling up, and still the Beasts were there, still the Beasts were spreading, still the Beasts were consuming.
And the Beasts were humans once. They were the people who had families, who had friends, who had lives. Some of them even grew up with her, played with her, studied with her, trained with them to become Hunters, they were her friends, and she had killed them. She had slaughtered them, cut them down, watched the light fade from their eyes.
It was becoming too much for her. And so she had started killing them even before they turned. Promising she would take them to a better place. That their sacrifice would not be in vain, that they would live on, in a place where they would be happy, where they would be loved.
She had told herself that it was the right thing to do, She had become the reaper to them, to ferry them to the afterlife, that it was a mercy. A foolish notion, she couldn't even lie to herself.
They still had a future but she had taken those lives from them.
The blood was on her hands, and no matter how many times she washed them, no matter how much soap and water she used, no matter how hard she scrubbed, the blood would not come off.
The blood would not come off.
It clung to her, a constant reminder of her sins, a stain that would never wash away.
She was a monster, and she deserved to die.
The Beasts weren't the monsters. She was.
The Beasts were the victims.
The Beasts were the innocent.
There was no forgiveness, no redemption for her.
Why was she still alive?
Blood red briars manifested from her blood and slithered up her body, coiling around her arms and neck, squeezing tight. She could feel the thorns digging into her skin, could feel the blood welling up in the wounds, could feel the pain. She could see the blood flowing down her arms, could see the blood soaking into her clothes, could see the blood dripping onto the flowers beneath her.
The thorns tightened their grip, and she could feel the air leaving her lungs, could feel the life leaving her body. She could feel the briars wrapping around her neck, could feel the blood pouring down her throat, could feel the cold embrace of death.
She welcomed it.
She deserved it.
The pain, the fear, the anger, the hatred, the sadness, the guilt, the shame, the loneliness, the sorrow, the madness, the helplessness, the hopelessness, the regret, the bitterness, the resentment, the betrayal, the loss, the emptiness, the agony, her desperation...
All of it, was hers and hers alone.
The briars tightened their grip, and the tears came again, flowing down her face, her chest aching with the weight of the pain, her body wracked with the sobs.
It was all so much.
Too much.
She could no longer bear it.
She wanted it to stop.
She wanted to die.
A pair of red eyes watched her from the shadows and a sinister growl reverberated through the meadow. The air suddenly grew cold, the smell of death filled the air. The beast slowly stalked towards her, its form hidden within the trees.
Then with a howl it pounced, its jaws open, its claws ready.
Ruby didn't care. She closed her eyes and waited for the end.
Yet her end didn't come, instead the beast's growl was replaced by a high pitched screech and a loud rattle
She opened her eyes and saw the Beast, a dark wolf the size of a small car with bone-like armor and red markings, its body pinned to the air caught by her thorns.
It struggled and fought, trying to break free, its fangs snapping at the briars, its claws ripping into the vines. But the briars held strong, the thorns piercing the Beast's hide, a cloud of black smoke flowed freely from its wounds.
The beast screamed in rage, its body writhing and twisting, the sound grating against her ears. She could see the hate and rage in its eyes, could see the bloodlust, could feel the darkness emanating from its very being. Then it died, her thorns snapped the beast's neck and the briars dropped the corpse.
Ruby stared at the dead body evaporating before her thorns released her. Her hands found her weapon and she stood up, her eyes focused on the spot where the beast had been, her mind numb. Numerous howls erupted all around her.
She had been ready to die, she had been ready to welcome the end, and yet now that it was here, she wasn't. Tired as she was, it seemed her body wasn't ready to die yet.
Her grip tightened on her staff, her eyes narrowed, and her body tensed. Then she pivoted with her weapon forming a scythe from her blood. bisecting another beast mid lunge and she started swinging.
The beasts came, one after another, their eyes glowing red, their fangs bared, their claws sharp.
She swung her scythe, cleaving through the air, slicing through the beasts. She didn't stop, didn't pause, didn't hesitate. She didn't let up. She slashed and slashed and slashed. Her blade was a flurry, her movements a blur. She didn't let the beasts get close, she didn't give them a chance. She didn't stop. She didn't rest.
Her blade tore through the beasts, their bodies disintegrating into a black smoke.
But they kept coming, one after another and she didn't stop, didn't pause. She only needed to keep swinging her scythe, her mind and heart didn't matter, she was nothing more than a machine now.
Until there were none left.
She didn't know how long it had been, didn't know how many beasts she had killed, didn't know how many of them she had slain. All she knew was that they were gone, and she was alone again.
She was standing in the middle of a field of flowers, and a sea of corpses. Bodies lay all around her, some whole, others mangled and mutilated beyond recognition while they evaporated into the air.
She stared down at the ground, her hands clutching her weapon. She had killed again. She had slaughtered once more. She dropped her scythe and held her hands into a prayer.
She prayed that they would all be taken to a better place, where they would be happy, where they would be safe, where they would be loved.
"A place where we can all be together." Ruby finished the prayer and looked up, the sun was starting to set and the sky was turning a shade of pink.
It was a beautiful sight.
But it didn't change anything.
She was a monster, and monsters did not deserve beautiful things.
Suddenly she heard small and light footsteps behind her and she immediately spun around and drew her weapon, her silver eyes widening in shock as she stopped her scythe mere inches from the neck of a young girl, with black and red hair like hers.
The girl held her arms up in front of her and showed a nervous smile before looking at her with surprised eyes.
At that moment, silver met silver.