Chapter Text
Ruby stood in an endless abyss of darkness with nothing as far as the eye could see for miles. When she looked down at her clothes, she was wearing her old clothes from Atlas before any of the wear or tear.
Looks like I'm dreaming.
Moving her hand to where she usually kept Crescent Rose, she found it missing, which caused her to panic momentarily before remembering what had happened. Flashes of her battle with Markog then surfaced in her mind as she bared her teeth in pain as she gripped her ribs in phantom pain at the Chaos champion's beating. On her knees, she found her breathing heavy before she got back up once more. Hesitantly, she began to walk through the black abyss. For what felt like hours, she walked, seeing nothing in sight. She was about to give up when she saw a small dot in the distance.
Her eyes widening in surprise, she used her semblance to close the distance between her and the dot. As the dot grew larger, she was able to discern what it was, or rather who. They were an Astartes clad in the black armor and liveries of the Dark Angels with a missing left arm. In his right hand, he held a sword that he had thrust into the ground. That's when she realized who it was.
It was Bevedan!
Reforming her body, Ruby carefully stepped forward to the deceased Librarian's form as he stood motionless. Bevedan had died on Sable during their final battle with Seraphax; having sacrificed his life to save them all. Even months after the deed had occurred, she still wept at his death some days. He should've lived! If only she had known how to use her silver eyes better, maybe Bevedan could've lived, just maybe she could've changed his destiny.
But that's not what happened.
Because she was weak, the Librarian had died.
A mere few centimeters from the Astartes, Bevedan finally moved. Presenting her with his blade, Ruby caught her reflection in the blade and felt ashamed.
"I can't," she tried to tell him. "I'm not worthy."
But Bevedan did not lower the blade.
"Please, Bevedan, I can't." Her voice now trembling on the brink of tears. The blade then turned into Crescent Rose, causing her to cry as she fell to her knees.
"It's all my fault!" she wailed. "You died because I'm incompetent! I let another friend of mine die! Why do I get to live and keep suffering while you died?"
She felt a hard hand on her shoulders and looked up, finding Bevedan looking at her, his helmet now gone, with his face a warm smile. "Do not blame yourself for my sins," he told her. "The burden is not yours but mine. It is because of our lord that I have found peace."
"It's not fair," she cried bitterly.
"Nothing is fair in this galaxy," he said. "But that is why we fight against the encroaching darkness."
"I can't, Bevedan!" she then said. "I'm scared! I'm not like you or the Lion. I am not an Astartes! I still have fear!"
"You fear because you are alone," he said. "That will change, for I will be your light in the darkness." His face smiling. "Your eternal companion until the day you die."
Bevedan's body then disappeared as it was replaced by Crescent Rose, and when she looked in the reflection, she did not see herself but saw Bevedan instead.
With a jolt, she awoke, finding herself in her cabin aboard the Lunar Knight as the familiar pang of pain struck her mind. Darting her eyes over to where Bevedan's blade was kept, she found it still on its stand. Turning her head to her chrono, she found she had only been asleep for an hour.
Great… she thought with annoyance.
***
Their blades sparked as psychic energy and Dark Age science met each other. Pushing his blade aside, Ruby swung her blade wide but was stopped as Jaune smacked the pommel of his sword into her gut, pushing all her air out. Before she could recover in time, Jaune then elbowed her in the head, knocking her to the ground as her sword fell from her hands while her cape draped over her head. Lifting it, she winced as she found Jaune pointing his blade at her face.
"You keep swinging too wide," he told her before lowering his blade. "For Throne's sake, how many times do I have to tell you that you are fighting with a sword now, not a scythe!"
"I don't get how you or anybody else uses these things," she said, hefting up her sword. "They are so boring!"
"Not all of us have the dedication to learn how to use an overgrown farming tool," Jaune commented as he sheathed his sword.
"You're just jealous."
"Am not!"
"Then why did you try to get Uncle Qrow to teach you how to use one?" she asked with a devious smile.
"Wait, you heard us?" Jaune asked, flabbergasted.
"Yes, and the time you tried asking him for advice about girls. Also, the time you begged him for extra cash because you got pick-pocketed while in Mistral. Oh, and how about that one time…"
"Alright!" he said. "I get it. I was an idiot when I was a teenager. No need to remind me, thank you very much. I already deal with enough nightmares as is. I don't need every stupid thing I did as a kid on that list of things that keep me up." He looked at her sword. "Still doesn't change the fact that you still need a lot of improvement with that sword of yours."
"Easier said than done," Ruby muttered with some bitterness. "I feel like the sword is fighting against me every time I channel my aura into the blade."
"Why don't you just switch to a regular power sword instead of using that witch blade?" he asked.
Ruby frowned. "This 'witch blade' is all that's left of Bevedan," she said with a note of anger. "If I discard it, we will forget what he did for us. I'm not getting a new blade."
"So you're really replacing Crescent Rose, are you?" he said with amazement.
"No… ye–I don't know…" she said with a sigh. "On one hand, Crescent Rose was my baby. I built that thing way back at Signal, but at the same time…"
"What?" he asked, concerned.
"It has history…" she continued. "I feel like it represents all my failures as a huntress. My sins made manifest if we wanted to sound all deep and pretentious like an imperial. I feel this sword–" gesturing to Bevedan's force blade–"is my way to show that I've learned and grown not only as a leader but as a person. Especially after Bevedan talked with me when I tried to…" She didn't finish the sentence.
Jaune placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're not the only one who has thought of putting a bullet in their head," he told her. "I know things are still strained between us due to no fault but my own, but you can still talk to me. I've known more than enough times what it feels like being at that level of darkness."
Ruby smiled. "Thanks."
She then went to open her mouth before stopping herself.
"What's wrong?" Jaune asked.
"Do you think I'm worthy of this sword?" she asked him.
Jaune's eyes widened. "Of course!" he said. "It's not every day that an Astartes weapon is just given to us mortals. If Bevedan wanted you to have the blade, it was for good reason." He then realized what she was trying to say. "You don't think you're worthy?" he then asked.
Ruby nodded. "The only reason why I even have this blade is because Bevedan sacrificed his life for us. He didn't need to die. I could've saved him…"
"You couldn't," Jaune said sternly. "Bevedan was a powerful psyker, and yet with all that power he still could not break Seraphax's hold on us. If he couldn't do it, you wouldn't have been able to."
"But I could've!" she snapped. "If I just knew how these stupid things worked–" pointing to her eyes–"he would be alive!"
"And how is stewing in your hatred going to change that, huh?" he asked, also raising his voice. "What is done is done. Bevedan is dead. We can't change that. This is what war is like, Ruby: those we cherish will die, and we can't do anything to change it. That is what makes it so… ugly." His voice became somber. "You received that sword from the Lion because he believes you are worthy to carry it and honor Bevedan's legacy. It is what he believed he wanted." He placed a hand on her shoulder and made a warm smile. "You are more than worthy to wield that blade, Ruby."
That's when it all clicked in her head. What the dream meant. What she needed to do. Ruby sheathed the force sword and then began formulating plans in her head, schematics of what needed to be done. As she thought, she felt reality shift around her before feeling her headache dissipate from her head. At last they had returned to Echo Station.
With Guain's permission, Echo Station had become a naval hub for the Protectorate and its ships to the chagrin of the more close-minded imperials, with its docks servicing dozens of ships at a time. Docking in one of the station's arms, the Legion serfs went straight to work at repairing any damage the ship had taken in their latest engagement.
A month or so had passed following Seraphax's death. With his death, the Ten Thousand Eyes had collapsed, falling into infighting between the remaining warlords. Whatever remained of the warband had either been routed from Protectorate—as they decided to call their little region of space—or complete annihilation. Having eliminated the Ten Thousand Eyes, the Lion now concentrated his efforts on connecting the Imperium's scattered worlds, left severed by the Noctis Aeterna.
Ruby stepped onto the alien landing bay, finding much had changed since their first visit to Echo Station. Unlike that first visit, life now bustled through the station, and its once empty halls now felt cramped to walk through as the sound of a dozen different dialects of Gothic replaced the eerie silence that had existed before. Pushing through the crowds of imperials she eventually reached a chamber that sat at the center sphere of the station.
Its alien doors parting for her, Ruby smelled engine oil and incense as she entered. Audible from the chamber's speakers was the low hum of Calibanite music that could be heard. Busy at work on a table, or what had been made into a table, an Astartes in red armor worked in silence as mechadendrites cut and soldered components together. It was Ectorael, their Techmarine.
Noticing her arrival, Ectorael paused in his work and greeted the huntress with a nod of his head. His helmet off, she winced upon seeing his bare head. She still wasn't used to his grizzly appearance.
"Greetings, huntress," he said as he went back to his work. "I presume you and Lord El'Jonson bring me more wargear to repair from your expedition?" he asked with a hint of weariness in his voice.
Due to how the Adeptus Mechanicus had monopolized science and innovation for the last ten thousand years, the pool of tech-priests they could rely on to repair their weapons and armor was small to say the least. With that pool being smaller if you counted how many adepts of the Mechanicus knew how to maintain Astartes' wargear. Hence why Ectorael had been stuck with the burden.
"Actually," she began, "I came here to see if you could help me with a little project I cooked up during our warp transit."
"Oh? And what could that be?"
She smiled. "How would you like to help me make a new weapon?"
Ectorael stopped in his work to look at her. "A new weapon, you say? You have my interest, mortal, if fleeting."
"Trust me, you'll love it," she said, walking over to his workbench. She then hefted out Bevedan's force sword, placing it on his table before pulling out a small bag and dropping its contents; it was Crescent Rose or at least what was left of it.
Ectorael used his mechadendrites to pick up the shattered remains of Crescent Rose and analyzed the metal with his bionic eyes. "Do you have a schematic of what you have in mind?" His voice containing a hint of interest.
Digging into her pocket, she pulled a piece of parchment out and handed it to Ectorael's metal hand. As he opened it and scanned over her drawings, he hummed with interest.
"So can we make it?" she asked.
"Yes," he said as he read over the schematic another time. "We have the resources to make most of this, including the knowledge to forge a power field generator." He closed it before handing it to her. "I must say the idea of a spring in the stock to compensate for recoil is very clever, although… are you sure you wish to use Astartes-grade bolt shells? This weapon shall still have a significant amount of kickback when fired that, for most mortals, would shatter their shoulder blade if shot."
"My aura will compensate," she answered with a big smile.
The Techmarine sighed. "Yes, I forget you are a wyrd…" he said with some disgust. While she would say they were relatively good acquaintances, the Techmarine did not like being reminded of her status as a psyker. If there was one emotion the Techmarine hadn't burned out of his systems, it was hate, which Ruby guessed he had a good amount of.
"Very well, I give you my approval and shall have my serfs bring you the components you need, although I shall oversee construction and assist wherever necessary."
"You're afraid I'm going to break something?" she asked slyly.
"Yes," he answered flatly. "You are still ignorant of the ways of Mars. Once you have learned more, perhaps I will permit you unsupervised access in my workshop."
She sighed. "You can be a real downer sometimes, you know that?"
"Once you've lived your first century, you will understand why I am the way I am," he gruffed. His mechadendrites then picked up Bevedan's blade. "Now then, let us begin. I wish to see this tool of destruction brought forth into reality."
***
In the days that followed, the Risen could not find the Lion's Naysmith, either in her quarters, nor at the primarch's side. It felt like she had completely disappeared from the station, which, as much as the Astartes didn't want to show or admit, made them feel mild concern over their mortal comrade. With several of their number wondering to themselves in private where she had left to. Tirelessly, Ruby worked as the days stretched on, taking brief rests in between before returning with twice the vigor. She smelted metal, molded it to shape, poured her sweat, blood and tears, but one fateful night, their labor finally bore fruit. Wiping her forehead of sweat, Ruby raised her creation to the light for her to see.
It was roughly shaped similarly to the Lion pattern boltgun that most of the Risen used, but it was made for the hands of someone her size rather than a seven-foot transhuman in power armor. The difference lay in the barrel length and how slim the overall body was. Its scope was small compared to the rest of the weapon; yet provided more than enough range for her to snipe from. Like all Remnanite weapons, this was more than just some mere gun. Pressing a button on the side, the gun unfolded as the barrel shifted into a hilt while the stock unfolded into a massive curved blade. Activating another button with a pentacle symbol on it, the power field of the blade then glowed a luminescent blue, her eyes briefly enthralled by the sight. Ruby then deactivated the power field before shifting the gun back into its rifle form.
"I am guessing you approve?" Ectorael asked.
Ruby thought for a moment before opening her mouth. "I think I… love it!" she squealed before jumping in the air like a child. "I can't wait to use it!"
Ectorael smiled. "I am happy you like it," he said. "Though due to how unique this weapon is, you will have to come to me for resupply. The bolt rounds we crafted for this tool of the Omnissiah are custom and not like the standard bolt rounds that most bolters use."
Ruby nodded. "I'll make sure to keep that in mind," she told him.
"Tell me," Ectorael then began, "what shall you name this gun? Surely you must have a name in mind?"
"I think…" she started, unfolding the gun back into its scythe form, and as she looked into the reflection of the silvery blade, she briefly saw Bevedan's face staring back at her. He gave her a single nod of his head with a knowing smile, as if he wanted to reassure her. She gave Bevedan's reflection a simple with a barely audible "thank you" before he vanished as quickly as he appeared. She then took a deep breath and raised the scythe up, the machine spirit of the scythe eagerly awaiting her words. "I think I'll name it Crescent Rose."