Beacon Academy – Ozpin's Office

The grand doors burst open.

Pyrrha stumbled inside.

Her armor was scorched. Her boots left streaks of blood across the polished floor. Her red sash was torn at the waist, and one gauntlet dangled uselessly from her side, burned to blackened metal. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. Her eyes were red. Wild. Brimming with a storm of emotion she hadn't yet begun to process.

Ozpin looked up slowly from his desk, calm and composed as ever, the ever-present mug of coffee cradled in his hands. Glynda, standing beside him, straightened, alarm flashing in her eyes at the sight of the state Pyrrha was in.

"Pyrrha?" Glynda took a step forward. "What happened?"

But Pyrrha didn't answer right away.

She staggered into the room, her body shaking not from physical injury, but from the weight of what had just transpired. She looked like a soldier returning from a war she had never trained for. Like someone who had touched death and survived.

Barely.

Ozpin stood, setting his mug aside. "Pyrrha... speak."

Her voice came, cracked and raw.

"She's dead."

Ozpin blinked once. "Who?"

"No," Pyrrha said, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "Cinder."

The room froze.

Glynda's breath caught. "You... You faced her?"

"She ambushed us," Pyrrha continued, staring past them, her eyes distant, haunted. "She came for me. For the power. For the other half of it. And Alister..."

Her voice broke.

Ozpin frowned. "Where is Alister?"

A single tear slid down her cheek.

"He's gone."

Glynda gasped, her hand rising to her mouth. "No..."

Pyrrha closed her eyes tightly, trying to suppress the flood rising in her chest. But the memories hit her all at once his voice shouting her name, the clash of steel and flame, the final explosion, the way his body had collapsed into hers after the firestorm ended.

"He fought her. Alone. He kept her from reaching me. She... she killed him, Ozpin. And I couldn't stop it. I was too slow. I was too weak."

"No," Ozpin said gently, approaching her now. "You were exactly where you needed to be."

Pyrrha looked up, stricken. "What are you talking about?"

He placed a hand on her shoulder fatherly, soothing, composed. "If you were still whole... then you must have won."

She hesitated.

Then nodded slowly.

"When Alister fell... I don't know how, but something snapped. I could feel her power inside me. All of it. Amber's... and Cinder's."

She lifted her hand.

A flicker of flame burst to life in her palm. Then wind curled around it. A shimmer of heat and cold followed an impossible paradox of elements now at her fingertips. The powers of the Fall Maiden. Complete.

Ozpin's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

"It's mine now," Pyrrha whispered. "All of it."

A long silence passed.

Glynda looked stunned.

But Ozpin... he smiled.

Softly.

Deliberately.

"Then the plan worked," he said at last, stepping back. "Amber's power is secured. The Fall Maiden has return back to our side, and now, it rests in someone we can trust."

"I didn't want this," Pyrrha said, her voice cracking. "Not like this. Alister... he was brave. He didn't deserve to die."

"No," Ozpin said quietly. "But he understood what was at stake."

Pyrrha's hands trembled. "You said this was destiny. That it had to be me. That I was chosen. But it didn't feel like destiny. It felt like loss. Like a sacrifice I didn't understand until it was already made."

Ozpin folded his hands behind his back, his tone level. "There is no victory without sacrifice, Pyrrha. You of all people must know that now. You've stepped into a greater war, one far beyond the kingdoms. One that spans lifetimes."

Glynda's expression darkened slightly, watching the young warrior's grief mount.

"But why me?" Pyrrha whispered. "Why do I have to bear it?"

"Because you are strong," Ozpin replied. "And because now, the real battle begins."

Pyrrha stared at him. "You're talking about Salem."

"Yes," he said. "And now, with your power, we have a chance. We can begin preparing for the counteroffensive. For ending her reign of terror once and for all."

"But I'm not ready," Pyrrha said desperately. "I'm not a savior. I'm not a goddess. I'm just—"

"You are exactly what this world needs," Ozpin said, stepping close again. "And the world will thank you for it. Someday."

The room felt colder then.

Despite the fire still faintly dancing in her palm, Pyrrha felt hollow.

Alister's scream still echoed in her ears.

His blood still stained her armor.

But all Ozpin could see was power.

Responsibility.

A tool now forged.

"I want to rest," she said suddenly, her voice barely a whisper. "Just for tonight. I need time to come to term with Alister death."

"You'll have it," Ozpin assured her. "But not too long. The enemy will not wait. And you are more important than ever."

She turned from him, staring out the window that overlooked Beacon's shattered courtyard.

She could still feel his presence there.

Alister's final stand.

The fire that had cost everything.

And now, inside her chest... the weight of all that had been left behind.

Ozpin's voice came again, low and final. "You've done well, Pyrrha. This was only the beginning."

And Pyrrha Nikos the Fall Maiden stood in that silent tower, her tears falling unseen, her soul quietly breaking under the weight of a crown made of fire.

She had power.

She had destiny.

But she had never felt more alone

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The Arc Mansion Moonlight Hour

The doors opened without fanfare.

Rias stepped through them, slow and silent, her crimson cloak dusted with ash, the smell of scorched wind still clinging to her. Her hair, usually perfect, had strands stuck to her cheeks sweat, maybe. Or blood. Her boots, those elegant knee-highs she wore like a queen's crown, were caked with dry mud and blackened soot.

But her eyes

Gods.

Her eyes were calm.

Too calm.

And Jaune Arc, standing near the mansion's balcony with the night wind tugging at his coat, felt something twist inside him before she said a word.

She walked into the room like a ghost returning to where it once lived, and stopped just past the threshold. Her hands delicate, magical, divine in their own right were stained up to the wrists in soot and something darker. They trembled, just barely. Not from pain. From adrenaline still leaving her bones.

Jaune turned toward her fully. His golden hair caught the moonlight, tousled by the breeze. He had sensed something the moment she crossed the threshold. Her aura normally radiant and steady was dull now, not from weakness but because it had been burned, spent like a candle burning too fast.

He knew.

But he needed to hear it.

She looked at him, her lips parting.

Then, with a breath she didn't know she had been holding, she said the words.

"Cinder is dead."

The silence after was not peaceful.

It was weighty. Heavy. Like the earth itself paused.

Jaune didn't speak. He didn't move. Not at first. His eyes remained locked on hers, and in them no surprise. No disbelief. Just quiet.

Then he blinked.

Once.

Slowly.

"She's gone?" he asked, though he already knew.

Rias nodded. "I made sure of it."

Jaune's breath left him slowly, like wind escaping a cracked window. His shoulders didn't slump. He didn't fall to his knees. He didn't cry. Instead, he stepped toward her. Two paces. Three.

And then he stopped inches from her, close enough to see the faint cut on her neck, the way her left arm held itself slightly higher injury. Close enough to smell battle still clinging to her.

"You did it," he whispered.

"I did," she said softly.

There was no victory in her tone.

No pride.

Just a cold, final clarity.

"I found her," Rias continued, voice low, "in the old garden ruins west of the academy. She was waiting. Like she knew someone would come eventually. She was already wounded barely holding her aura. But still...."

Jaune's eyes darkened, and Rias saw the flicker of fire behind them. Not rage. Not grief. Something more complex. More painful.

"She talked," Rias said. "How she is destiny to be queen."

At that, Jaune looked away. His jaw clenched.

"I didn't entertain her," Rias continued. "She tried to bait me. Said she'd broken Pyrrha already. Said she'd burn the rest of Beacon next."

Jaune's hands curled into fists at his sides.

"She said you were next. That she'd carve your name into the ashes like a joke left behind."

"And then?" Jaune asked, voice quiet.

"I reminded her," Rias said, her gaze never wavering, "that monsters don't decide how stories end."

He swallowed. Hard.

"She didn't stand a chance, Jaune. I didn't toy with her. I didn't draw it out. I ended her. Clean. Quick."

"Did she suffer?"

Rias paused. "Yes."

He closed his eyes.

"Good."

The quiet returned again, but it wasn't empty. It was full of everything unspoken. Everything endured.

"I should have been there," Jaune said after a while, his voice hoarse. "She was mine to finish."

"No," Rias said, stepping closer. She reached out, cupping his face gently, her palm warm despite everything. "She was ours. And I did what had to be done."

His eyes met hers, and for a moment, he looked like a man on the verge of breaking but not from grief.

From satisfaction.

He leaned into her touch, the fire behind his eyes dimming into something softer. "Thank you," he whispered.

She nodded, brushing her thumb across his cheek. "She won't hurt anyone else again. Not Pyrrha. Not you. Not anyone."

"Does Pyrrha know?" he asked, his voice a little colder now.

"No," Rias said. "And she doesn't need to. Not from me."

"Good," Jaune said. "Let her mourn her fairy tales. She's already chosen her side."

Rias exhaled slowly. "You don't hate her, do you?"

"No," Jaune said quietly. "But I can't forgive her either. Not yet."

Rias nodded. "That's fair."

They stood there in the moonlight, the night wrapping around them like a mourning veil. Outside, the city of Vale continued as if nothing had happened. But inside this room something had shifted.

"Come here," Rias said gently.

Jaune didn't hesitate.

He stepped forward and allowed her to pull him close. Her arms wrapped around him, grounding him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself rest in someone else's warmth.

She held him like a fortress.

He buried his face in her shoulder.

And they stood like that just man and woman, campione and guardian, leader and anchor.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I know," he breathed.

She pulled back slightly, enough to meet his eyes. "You're not alone, Jaune. Not anymore. Let the ghosts stay buried."

He nodded. "I'm trying."

"You're doing more than trying. You're surviving."

He kissed her then slow, tender, reverent. It wasn't a kiss of passion. It wasn't fire.

It was peace.

When they parted, Rias gave him a small smile.

"Come to bed," she said. "You've carried enough tonight."

And he went with her, hand in hand.

The mansion felt larger than usual hushed, as though the walls themselves were listening for footfalls. Rias had barely finished pressing her cloak into Jaune's hands when the familiar sounds drifted from the parlor: a chair scraping, a fire popping, breath being held. They stepped through the archway and found all of them there.

Velgrynd first perched on the windowsill, dragon eyes glinting with restless gold. Ei stood beside the fire, posture ramrod-straight, arms folded in that silent-sentinel way that meant she had spent the last hour replaying worst-case scenarios. Elena sat cross-legged on the rug, her spellbook forgotten in her lap. Himeko leaned against the piano, quietly polishing an already immaculate sword. Scáthach lounged by the eastern doorway courtly, unreadable, eyes sharp as iron frost. Even Velzard usually the model of composure was up from her chaise, tea stone-cold, blue brows knit in worry.

When they saw Jaune and Rias walk in alive, whole there was a collective exhale, a sound almost physical in its force.

Velgrynd's tail thumped against the frame. "Well? You vanished without a word. We thought half of Vale might be on fire by now."

"It was," Jaune said, voice steady. "But the blaze is out."

Elena rose quickly, gaze sliding to the dried soot on Rias's sleeves. "And the spark?"

"Extinguished," Rias answered. She didn't embellish, but three centuries of battlefield reading flickered in their companions' eyes; they understood.

Silence, then Himeko sheathed her blade and crossed the room. She stopped in front of Rias, inspecting the scorch on the hem of the crimson cloak. "Cinder Fall?"

"Gone," Rias confirmed. "Completely."

A pulse of aura rippled from Velzard subtle, relieved. "Then the pyre has finally burned out." She stepped forward, gloved hand resting for a heartbeat on Rias's forearm. "You did what needed doing."

Ei's lightning-wine eyes softened. "Any witnesses?"

"Only ash," Rias replied, shaking her head.

"Good," Ei murmured. "Then Ozpin cannot spin it against us... yet."

Velgrynd snorted, vaulting from the sill and landing cat-like beside Jaune. "Did she beg?"

"No." Rias's eyes flared briefly, remembering. "She talked about destiny. Till the end."

Scáthach uncrossed her arms. "Fools always cloak greed in prophecy. You ended the chain. It is enough."

Jaune could feel the atmosphere shift as his companions processed the truth. There was no celebration just the collective loosening of a tension none could remember living without. Pride resonated, intertwined with grief.

He cleared his throat. "She harmed Alister... Amber... countless others. She would have harmed more if Rias hadn't stepped in. Tonight is a line drawn." And then he looked at every face. "Thank you for waiting for us."

Elena stepped forward, her hand finding Rias's scorched fingers. "You need cleaning up, both of you. Sit." A simple word yet it carried the authority of a high-level healer.

Rias managed a small, tired smile. "We should report the strategic implications.."

Velzard shook her head. "Not now. You two will rest. Ei and I will prepare a statement for Vale's council: An unidentified international criminal died in a border skirmish; there is no further threat. They do not need names."

Himeko pivoted gracefully. "I'll draft patrol rotations. If Ozpin moves tonight, we'll see him coming."

Scáthach sheathed her sword again, tone arctic-calm. "And I will send word to Luna. Your elder sister will want confirmation."

As instructions were parsed, Jaune felt Rias sway. He caught her, guiding her to one of the deep leather armchairs. Velgrynd fetched a fresh towel and a flask of glacier water. Elena knelt, conjuring soft blue sigils that crawled over Rias's burned wrists, unraveling the tension from exhausted tendons. Ei extended two fingers toward Jaune's temple, giving him a single spark of aura cool, cleansing momentarily banishing the smoke sting in his lungs.

No one spoke of victory. They spoke of bandages, of watch schedules, of peace that must be guarded. And somewhere in that quiet bustle Jaune finally allowed himself to sit, Rias's hand never leaving his

With Pyrrha

The city's dawn light bled pale gold across Beacon's stone corridors, but Pyrrha Nikos saw none of it. She sat on the narrow window bench of Team P(A)RN dorm, the new-forged maiden power thrumming inside her like a second heartbeat she could not silence. Yet all she felt was emptiness.

Ren's scroll sat on the desk, left open after a quiet ping twenty minutes earlier.

Alister is dead

Just three sentences.

But Pyrrha needed only the first two words.

Cinder. Dead.

She remained frozen there, toes curling against the wooden grain, trying to decide if she was supposed to rejoice or weep. When the door clicked, she didn't flinch. Nora entered first, red eyes rimmed from a sleepless night; Ren followed, carrying two cups of coffee. Alister's absence was a new wound they still set a cup for him on the shelf out of habit.

Nora set a gentle hand on Pyrrha's shoulder. "We saw the alert."

Ren placed the mugs on the sill. "There's no detail. Only that Cinder was killed somewhere near Vale's western ruins." He paused, searching Pyrrha's face. "How do you feel?"

That question so simple hit harder than any blow she had ever taken in the arena.

How did she feel?

She should feel safer. She should feel vindicated that the woman who shattered Amber's life, who took Alister's, who almost stole every dream Pyrrha ever held... was finally gone. Instead, all she could taste was ash and thunder inside her chest.

Finally she spoke, her voice a whisper. "I... wasn't the one who ended her."

Nora knelt, brow furrowed. "You can't blame yourself. None of us could've reached her in time."

"But I wanted to," Pyrrha said hollowly. "Part of me needed to. For Alister. For Amber. For everyone Cinder hurt. Now someone else finished the story and I'm left with the power, but no closure."

She pressed her palm flat against her sternum. The Maiden aura shimmered beneath the skin, responding reflexively wind tugging at her hair, a fizz of sparks dancing over her knuckles. Ren stepped back reflexively; the raw magic still unsettled them all.

Ren chose his words carefully. "Maybe the person who killed her had more right. Or maybe the world is simply messy, Pyrrha. Justice rarely arrives on our schedule."

Nora chewed her lip. "It's... it's okay to be glad she's gone. Even if you weren't the one to swing the sword."

Pyrrha hugged her knees. "That's the problem. I don't know what I am. Glad? Grieving? Relieved? I feel everything and nothing fits."

Ren took a breath. "Ozpin will want to debrief you."

The name snapped Pyrrha back. "He already called a meeting. Noon. Wants an update on my... condition." She almost spat the word.

Silence settled again until Nora whispered, "Do you think Jaune was involved?"

The name cracked something fragile inside her.

Pyrrha's mind flitted back to his face in the market calm, golden, distant. A man she did not recognize. A man surrounded by warriors far deadlier than Cinder ever was. She remembered whispers in the corridors: Arc saved an entire quarter during the White Fang attack... Arc's companions move like fast... Some say he wields cursed flame.

And she remembered Rias those impossible crimson eyes standing at his side like a queen of storms.

"He could have," Pyrrha admitted quietly. "And if he did... I wouldn't blame him. Cinder cost him as much as she cost us." Her voice caught. "More, maybe."

Ren squeezed her shoulder. "Do you want to talk to him?"

Pyrrha closed her eyes, felt the Maiden power hum again. She pictured Jaune looking through her, not at her, and something inside twisted with regret and fear.

"No," she whispered. "Not yet. Maybe not ever."

Nora looked at Ren, eyes sad. "We'll stand with you. Whatever you decide."

Pyrrha gave a watery smile. "Thank you."

But when they left Ren to meditation, Nora to find some breakfast Pyrrha stayed by the window. The sunrise climbed, gilding the cliffs. Students below started a new day unaware that a tyrant's heart had stopped beating overnight. In that dawning light Pyrrha finally let the tears fall quiet, controlled, like she'd been trained. They splashed onto her bare knees, glowed for a moment in the maiden aura, and vanished as steam.

Next morning

Back at the mansion, Rias woke first body aching, but spirit oddly calm. She slipped from the silken sheets, crossed to the balcony, and breathed in the salt-tinged air. Below, she saw Jaune already sparring lightly with Scáthach; despite the bruises from last night, he moved smoothly, unburdened by the shadow that had haunted him for years.

Ei and Velzard watched from the colonnade, comparing notes on council reactions and potential Salem contingencies. Elena sat at a marble table, quill racing across parchment she was drafting a coded communiqué to Luna: "The pyre is cold. The Phoenix returns triumphant."

Rias smiled small, private and turned back inside. She found her cloak folded neatly, cleaned, mended. Velgrynd's handiwork, of course. The dragoness may snarl, but she stitched battle-tears better than any seamstress.

As midday approached, Jaune gathered them in the library. A single sentence prefaced the meeting:

"Cinder's dead. Thank you. Now we prepare for Ozpin."

Velgrynd cracked her knuckles. "Let him knock. We'll not be caught unawares."

Himeko drew a neat list of supply runs; Scáthach recommended doubling outer wards; Ei volunteered to intercept any council spies before they hit the property line.

Rias, sitting beside Jaune, felt a peace she hadn't known in decades. Cinder's ashes still dusted her memory yet there was no guilt. Only forward motion.

When the strategy session concluded, Jaune laced his fingers with hers and whispered, "I'll never forget you did this for us."

Rias shook her head. "I did it for you. But also for me." Her smile softened. "We share burdens, remember?"

Jaune pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Always."

Vale – Early Evening, outside the Arc-conclave mansion

A late-spring dusk settled over the city in ribbons of peach and mauve, the sort of sunset that tinted even Vale's stonework with fleeting warmth. On the mansion veranda four women lingered around a marble table stacked with scrolls, vellum maps, and a half-finished pitcher of citrus wine. They looked, to a passer-by, like an eclectic circle of socialites until one felt the pressure in the air: four auras ranked among the most dangerous on Remnant, temporarily sheathed for the sake of camaraderie.

Ei stood at the table's head, arms folded in her evergreen sleeves, lightning tattoos just visible at her wrists. Rias reclined sideways on a chaise, crimson hair spilling over embroidered cushions. Elena perched cross-legged on the bannister rail, pen tapping against her lips. And Himeko leaned, cat-lazy, against a column, sword-umbrella resting on her shoulder.

They were planning a night out. Specifically, a reconnaissance-meets-girls-night at Junior's bar

Ei flicked a finger against a map. "We enter separately. Elena and I first he's used to seeing Huntresses in the early slot. Ten minutes later Rias 'happens' to arrive with Himeko. I order a mist-tea, Rias orders sunset dust. Junior sees the signal, escorts us upstairs. No noise, no intimidation. We talk. Twenty minutes max."

Himeko arched a brow. "And if the talk goes poorly?"

Rias smiled, slow, dangerous. "Then we empty the rooftop bar and let Ei discuss electricity rates with him."

Elena laughed quick, musical. "I've always wanted to see those chandeliers up close."

Ei made a note. "Objective is information, not property damage. We need to know how Salem's couriers move through Vale's underground. Junior's ledger will tell us."

"Ledger and maybe more," Rias murmured. "Rumor says his new bartender is a spy for Lionheart. If so, we trade trinkets and get ahead of Ozpin's next move."

They sealed the plan with the pitcher's last pour. Crystal clinked; citrus perfume drifted.