//------------------------------//
// The Girl in the Glass Coffin (Rewritten) 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


The Girl in the Glass Coffin


Sunset’s ears twitched as she scratched the back of her head. “Penny’s in a good mood, huh?”
Pyrrha smiled. “Understandable, I think. If she had not wanted to transfer to Beacon, then she would hardly have applied to transfer to Beacon, would she?”
Sunset let out a little chuckle. “No,” she said. “I guess not. Still, she’s in a very good mood.”
“Indeed,” Pyrrha agreed. “It’s rather a pity that we had to go.”
“I’m sure Ruby and Jaune will look after her,” Sunset said.
“So am I,” Pyrrha replied. “But a pity, nonetheless.”
They had, after all, been having a rather nice time. Penny was certainly exuberant about her upcoming transfer, which seemed to have had the largest obstacle to it cleared away and to be almost guaranteed now. 
“We should take her out tonight,” Pyrrha said. “To Benni Havens, or maybe to somewhere nice in Vale.” Not too nice, Penny wouldn’t want anywhere that was too formal or stuck-up, but somewhere nice, nonetheless.
Sunset glanced at her. “Penny doesn’t eat.”
“She can appear to eat,” Pyrrha reminded her. “Which reminds me, we should probably ask Twilight how to open up her chest and remove and replace the, um, the bag or whatever it’s called that her food goes into.”
“Mmm,” Sunset murmured. “That’s … that’s a point, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“Well, somebody is going to have to do that,” Sunset said. “And maybe other things besides; unless Penny can open up her own chest, maybe she can, but it’ll look odd if anyone catches her doing it. Is she going to tell her new team that she’s a robot?”
“I suppose that’s up to her. It will probably depend on who her new teammates are. Do you think she’ll be assigned to Team Iron?”
“That would be easy,” Sunset said. “Although Y-R-P-N would be stretching the point for a pronunciation of ‘Iron’ even more than the B is at the moment.”
Pyrrha laughed softly. “True.” She paused for a moment, considering. “It’s a very unfortunate set of letters, isn’t it? The lack of vowels in particular is quite a hindrance.”
“Especially since you have to lead with a Y,” Sunset said. “If Ren were the leader, you could have Team Ripen.”
Pyrrha’s brow furrowed slightly. “Ripen isn’t a colour.”
“Lots of fruit ripens, and fruit is colourful,” Sunset pointed out. “In fact, some fruit changes colour depending on whether it’s unripe, ripe, or overripe, so it’s especially evocative of colour. Or you could keep the letters in the same order and have Team Riparian.”
“You could,” Pyrrha said. “If Ren were the leader instead of Yang.” She gave it some more thought. “Team Xiphos?”
Sunset looked up at her. “'Xiphos'?”
“It’s a type of sword,” Pyrrha explained. “Swords being frequently grey and metallic in colour.”
“I know what a Xiphos is; I’m just not sure how you’re spelling it.”
“X-L-P-V,” Pyrrha said. “The L for Lie is used in place of an I and V can be used for the F sound in Xiphos, as it is in Coffee.”
“That’s a bit of a reach, don’t you think?” Sunset asked.
“Can you think of a better idea that preserves Yang’s leadership?” asked Pyrrha.
“No,” admitted Sunset. “Of course, we don’t know that she’ll get placed with Iron, convenient as it would be.”
“True, but it would be very convenient; I think they could be trusted to know the truth, don’t you?”
“Yeah, if anyone could, it’s them,” Sunset replied. “Yang would take it in stride and Nora—”
“Would love it,” Pyrrha said, a slight smile playing across her face. “If… if it is not them, then—”
“Don’t say it,” Sunset cut her off. “Don’t even think about it.”
“We are the people who know her best,” Pyrrha pointed out. “We are the reason she decided to come to Beacon in the first place.”
“Alright then, tell me who you want to lose in order to take Penny,” Sunset replied.
“I would, of course, be willing to—”
“Not going to happen,” Sunset said, her words as heavy as the descending blade of an executioner’s axe, cutting off Pyrrha’s words.
“You can hardly expect me to name someone else,” Pyrrha said, a slight note of reproach creeping into her voice.
“No,” Sunset said. “I don’t.”
Pyrrha smiled ever so slightly. “What happened to respecting the choices of others?”
“There are limits to my respect,” Sunset declared, “and what you’re proposing goes beyond them. Besides which, my nerves have been frayed quite enough lately by the choices other people have made which I have, more fool me, committed myself to respecting. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to respect you or Ruby or Jaune waltzing off to join some team of no-marks out on missions where I wasn’t and couldn’t influence anything. I should lose my hair from worry, most like, or see my tail fall off. No thank you.” 
“Can your tail—?”
“I’m not willing to risk it,” Sunset said, as said tail shook from side to side. She folded her arms. “Don’t mistake me, I like Penny; I like her a lot. I just … don’t want to lose anyone.” She blinked. “Hey, maybe we should ask Professor Ozpin if Penny can stay with us, like Blake did for a little bit?”
“You mean a five-person team?” Pyrrha asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Sunset said. “There are two Ps in ‘sapphire’ after all, why not in Team Sapphire?”
“It seems rather irregular,” Pyrrha murmured. “Especially when there are two first-year teams missing a member, or will be when Blake transfers.”
“Yeah, but you don’t honestly want Penny to join Team Bluebell, do you?” Sunset asked. “Do you trust them with her?”
“They are our peers and fellow students, Sunset,” Pyrrha said, and this time, reproach did more than creep into her voice; it opened up the door and walked in. “You shouldn’t speak of them that way. Sky gave his life defending Vale; that is as worthy a thing as any huntsman has ever done or could do.”
Sunset frowned, as her arms fell down to her sides. “Yeah,” she muttered. “Yeah, I know.”
Pyrrha decided that it might be best to change the subject. “I … hope that Blake is having a good time with the Atlesians.”
“I’m sure she is,” Sunset said softly. 
I suppose that wasn’t a very good choice of subject either. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Sunset asked. “It’s fine, it’s not your fault, it’s fine. This is what she wants. They don’t deserve her, but … it’s what she wants. I’m sure they’ll take good care of her.” She looked at Pyrrha once again. “In the meantime, what do you think Professor Ozpin wants with the two of us?”
“I’ve really no idea,” Pyrrha said. “I know no more of this than you do. In any case, I shouldn’t think we have very long to wait to find out.”
“No,” Sunset agreed. “No, I suppose we don’t.”
The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened to reveal that the room was occupied not only by Professor Ozpin, but also by Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, and a man whom Pyrrha did not know, a man in his early middle age with black hair slicked back in such a way that vaguely resembled a bird’s tail feathers with the way it stuck out behind his head, with stubble on his cheeks and lines beneath his red eyes. He was dressed rather casually compared to the other three people in the room, in a jacket and waistcoat with no shirt.
He looked like the sort of man her servants would have sent to the tradesman’s entrance if he had shown up at the door — and even then, there was no guarantee they would have let him in — although, of course, the fact that he would have been a victim of snobbery in Mistral was no indicator of a lack of worth. 
But even in this company, he looked somewhat under-dressed. 
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said, as she and Sunset stepped out of the lift. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Not at all, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said genially, rising from his seat. “I’d say you’re just in time.”
'Just in time'? Just in time for what, Professor?
“Professor,” Sunset murmured, bowing her head. “Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch said. 
“So,” the man said, not bothering to introduce himself, “you’re Ruby’s team mates, huh?”
Sunset glanced at Pyrrha.
“If you mean Ruby Rose, then yes,” Pyrrha replied. “We have that pleasure. It appears you have the advantage of us, sir.”
The man grunted. “The name’s Qrow.”
“Qrow is a trusted colleague of mine,” Professor Ozpin said, sitting back down again. “He is my most capable field agent.”
“I was your only field agent,” Qrow muttered. “I should still be your only field agent.”
“Qrow,” Professor Goodwitch began.
“I know, I know, necessity,” Qrow said. “Doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t what I had in mind for Ruby’s school days.”
“Qrow,” Sunset repeated. “Qrow Branwen, the Q in Team Stark?”
Qrow’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah. How did you know it was spelled that way?”
“Our dorm room used to be yours,” Pyrrha explained.
Qrow stared at them for a moment before he snorted. “The wall,” he said, “that carving.”
“Precisely,” Pyrrha said. “We found the marks you made: S-T-R-Q. We took the liberty of adding our own initials beneath them.”
Qrow shook his head. “That … that was Summer’s idea,” he said. “She thought … it doesn’t matter. Kind of a waste of time, really, but knock yourselves out, I guess.”
“Ruby didn’t mention that you were coming to visit,” Sunset said.
“She doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Why not?” asked Pyrrha.
“Because none of your business!” Qrow said sharply. “What is this, an interrogation? She doesn’t know, end of story.”
“But Qrow will certainly be paying his nieces a visit in the course of his stay here,” Professor Goodwitch said. 
Qrow looked at her.
“Do you think that Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos are going to keep your presence secret, when you’ve given them no reason to do so?” asked Professor Goodwitch.
Qrow sighed and pulled a hip flask out of his pocket, unscrewing the top and taking a swig out of it. “This is not what I wanted Ruby’s school days to be like,” he repeated.
“From what I understand, this is pretty much what your school days were like,” Sunset pointed out.
“Yeah, why do you think I didn’t want it for Ruby?” Qrow asked. “This work, this war you’ve gotten yourselves into … some, it kills, and some, it breaks, and it leaves precious few unscathed. So I look at the two of you.” 
He took a step towards them, a slightly swaying, slightly staggering step, and glanced rapidly between them, his red eyes flicking from Pyrrha to Sunset and then back again. “I look at you, and I find myself wondering which is which.”
Sunset’s hands clenched into fists. 
“That’s enough, Qrow,” Professor Ozpin said before Sunset could say anything. “Miss Nikos, Miss Shimmer, I expect you must be wondering why I called you here.”
“We were curious, Professor, yes,” Pyrrha said. 
“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin said, sounding weary all of a sudden. “When I enlightened the two of you, and Miss Dash and Miss Sparkle, I withheld certain pieces of information. Some of that information you have since learned, regarding the Maidens. However, there are still things that you do not know, and of some of those things I must enlighten you now. It is time.
“Some would say that it is past time.” Professor Ozpin blinked and looked down at his desk for a moment, letting silence fall in the office, broken only by the grinding gears of the clock above as they turned inexorably, heedlessly onwards. “The fact is, when Miss Fall named herself the Fall Maiden to you during your excursion in pursuit of Doctor Merlot, she lied, at least in part. Cinder Fall is not the true Fall Maiden.” 
He rose to his feet. “Pyrrha Nikos, you have been chosen to become the next Fall Maiden.”
Pyrrha’s eyes widened. She found herself taking a step backward. She found that she was barely aware of anything or anyone else in the room besides herself and Professor Ozpin, whose words echoed through her mind. 
Chosen to become the next Fall Maiden. That was … it was a great honour that she was being offered, there could be no doubting that. The Maidens of old, before they had been hidden away for their own good and for the good of the world, had been not only great warriors but prophets, teachers, leaders, figures of reverence, and she … she was found worthy — whether worthy by Professor Ozpin or by fate itself, she could not say, it was a great honour either way — to join their number? It was a great honour, a tremendous honour, an honour such as she would never again be offered in her life, and yet … and yet…
And yet.
And yet … what would it mean for her life? For it was not a Maiden as of old that she would become, but a Maiden whom Professor Ozpin and his allies hid away to keep safe from harm, to protect them from the malice of Salem but also to protect the world from the Maidens and what they might do. 
What would that mean for her? Would she have to go into hiding? Would she be forced to leave Beacon, leave her friends, leave Jaune? How else was it to remain secret, what she had become? She could control the powers, she supposed; she was good at that, she had been doing it ever since she was a child, if there was anyone who could be discreet about their abilities that the world never suspected that she had them, then that person was Pyrrha Nikos. But that was a very risky hope to hang a matter of such secrecy upon, was it not?
She wanted this. She had not known she wanted it until it was placed before her, but now, like someone who doesn’t know that they’re hungry until they smell food being cooked in the next room, Pyrrha wanted this. Professor Ozpin was not just offering her great honour, he was offering her the ability to face the dark forces of Remnant that menaced humanity head, to do battle with things that a mere huntress could never hope to prevail against, possibly not even with the support of a team. Perhaps, as she was now, she could prevail against Cinder and her magic, but if she were the Fall Maiden, then how could the outcome be doubted? Would she not smite down evil and lay it to waste? Would she not guard so much that was good and worthy of protection? What could she not do, armed with a Maiden’s power? 
If Professor Ozpin would let her use the powers he offered, then … then he was offering Pyrrha nothing less than her destiny itself. All that she had desired since she was young, all her ambitions, all her hopes … he offered all of them to her, here and now. 
Yet still, she hesitated nonetheless. The fact that Pyrrha wanted this was no sign that she ought to take it. Some might argue that the reverse was true, that by wanting it so badly, it was a sign that she ought not to take it. 
After all, if the person most to be trusted with power was one who did not seek it, then what did that say of the desire that had immediately lighted in her breast as though someone had flicked on a switch?
“Professor,” she said softly, “I … I don’t know if I’m worthy of this.”
“If you are not worthy, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said, “then no one is.”
Qrow looked as though he might want to argue in favour of the latter case, but it was clear that no one in the room wished — or dared — to interrupt Ozpin in this moment. There was something sacral in the air that, for the moment, held them spellbound, a sense of a high priest dispensing a blessing to his acolyte.
Pyrrha felt very small, dwarfed by the majestic enormity of what was being asked of her: to take upon herself fully one quarter of the world’s magic, to become the latest link in a chain stretching back over a thousand years, to become … to become a Maiden. 
I don’t know if I’m ready for this.
Does the world have time for me to be ready?
“How … how?” she asked softly.
“And how is Cinder not the Fall Maiden?” Sunset asked, breaking the spell. “If she’s actually one of the other Maidens, then why lie about it? And if not that, then where does her power come from?”
Professor Ozpin rubbed the space between his eyebrows with one hand. “The answer to both your questions are intertwined.” He stood up. “If you’ll come with me please.”
They all crowded into the elevator, Pyrrha and Sunset standing side by side at the back while Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, and Qrow Branwen crowded in ahead of them. 
It was a little snug within the lift, to be sure, but even cramped as they were, Pyrrha was still able to see Professor Ozpin pull out a key from his waistcoat pocket, which he used to open one of the locked side panels on the elevator cab wall, which Pyrrha had assumed was used for maintenance of some kind. 
Instead, there was a button which he pressed.
“Where are we going, Professor?” Pyrrha asked.
“Down to the vault,” Professor Ozpin said. “Under the school.”
There’s a vault under the school? What kind of vault? Why is it under the school? Why is it a secret?
That last question sounded absurd the more she thought about it — she was here in the company of the other members of a secret society, was it any great surprise that they would have a secret location that they used for their own purposes? 
Nevertheless, it was still a surprise to her.
Neither Ozpin nor Goodwitch nor Qrow nor General Ironwood said anything else to her as the lift descended. Their silence made Pyrrha hesitant to ask them anything in turn, though she had questions; she trusted that they would be answered in good time. 
At the same time, she could not describe their silence as a comfortable one. It was tense, brittle, as if there was something that needed to be said but which they were all quite carefully not saying … or did not wish to say. The fact that Professor Goodwitch was looking at her with pity, while Qrow had something almost predatory in his gaze didn’t really help matters either. General Ironwood did not look at her — or would not.
They did not look as though they were about to bestow on Pyrrha some great honour; in fact, the longer it went on, the less Pyrrha was put in mind of a high priest dispensing a blessing and more of him laying the sacrifice upon the altar and preparing the knife.
She felt Sunset’s hand slip into hers and squeeze it gently.
“I’ve got your back,” Sunset said, with a faint smile on her face.
“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured.
“You know, it’s funny,” Sunset said. “There was a time when I would have given everything, absolutely everything, to be standing where you are now: to be told that I had been marked out for greatness, to be elevated above all others, chosen to receive great power and ascend to become something higher than a mere mortal. I guess that’s why nobody ever offers me anything like that, huh? They could see I wanted it too badly.”
Pyrrha glanced at the adults accompanying them, but none of them seemed inclined to comment on what Sunset was saying. It was as if they were capable of tuning out anything that Sunset and Pyrrha might say to one another, as though it was nothing to do with them at all. 
“And … now?” Pyrrha asked. Now that I am standing where you are, do you hold it against me?
“Like I said,” Sunset said, “I’ve worked out why nobody ever offers me this kind of thing.” She was smiling, but there was a touch of sadness about it too. “If I couldn’t be a princess, if I couldn’t be … if I couldn’t be her student, then I thought … it was that or nothing, and so I ran away. I ran and ran chasing a destiny that I couldn’t accept was already gone beyond recall. I ran so far that I found you. I’m not going to run anymore. You’re stuck with me, hero.”

The well of gratitude that Pyrrha felt caused a smile to blossom on her face. “Thank you, Sunset, that means … that means a great deal. Yet, all the same … I can’t help but feel that I’m stealing something from you.”
Sunset shook her head. “This is your moment. Your ascension. You’re about to become something more than most people could ever dream of. This hour is yours, not something for me to take away from you. I’ll just have to be the best huntress I can be and hope that’s enough to escape the shadow of your wings.”
“My wings?”
“I’ll explain later if you’re still interested,” Sunset said.
He mostly had his back to her, but it seemed as though Professor Ozpin was smiling as he listened to their exchange without interrupting it.
“So how does it feel?” Sunset continued. “Knowing that you’re about to ascend.”
“You keep saying that as though I’m about to transform,” Pyrrha said, “like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly.”
“Sorry, it’s an old habit from back home; it’s just the way I think about it,” Sunset said. “But how does it feel?”
“It’s … it’s a little intimidating,” Pyrrha confessed. “I just wish I understood what this would mean for me.” 
She had said that a little louder, in the hope that Professor Ozpin might give her an answer for it.
He didn’t.
Pyrrha looked into Sunset’s eyes and tried to convey with her gaze her confusion about why everyone had suddenly turned so taciturn. 
“It’s going to be fine,” Sunset said. “You can do this. And whatever happens next, you’ll still have us.”
Pyrrha took a deep breath in and out, centring herself. “Thank you.”
“Any time.”
The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened. Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, and Qrow all got out, leaving Pyrrha and Sunset to follow them out, more slowly and more warily than the authority figures who had gone before.
They emerged from out of the lift into what was presumably the vault beneath the school that Professor Ozpin had spoken of, and it must have been far indeed beneath the school, considering how high up the ceiling was; in fact, the ceiling was so high that it receded into the darkness and could barely be seen. 
Sunset got out her scroll, and looking at it, Pyrrha could see that there was no signal. They really were a very long way down.
And in what must be one of the largest structures in the school, what is more. 
Perhaps it was just the fact that Pyrrha’s mind had been pointed in that direction already, but there was a grave sepulchral feeling to this vast, expansive place: the ceiling was high and vaulted, while the vault itself took the form of a long transept lined with colonnades on either side. Sconces set onto the columns burned with green fire — or at least the appearance of the same — that cast the dark enclave in a soft emerald light. 
“Students,” Professor Ozpin called, turning back to face them. “Please, don’t dawdle.”
All of the other teachers and Qrow had stopped to wait for them; Qrow in particular looked rather impatient.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” Pyrrha said as she led the way and Sunset followed on behind. That was something she might have to get used to, if she went through with this: people following her.
Professor Goodwitch gave her a sympathetic smile as she started to catch up. “I’m sure you have questions.”
“You’ve heard two of them already,” Pyrrha pointed out.
“Before that, there are things that you must understand,” Professor Ozpin said from the front of the group as he once more led the way down the long transept. “In your research, you were not able to ascertain how the powers of a Maiden were passed down from one to another.”
“I worked out that you could get the powers by killing the previous Maiden, Professor,” Sunset said. “The stories were quite clear about that.”
“And yet the stories were not entirely accurate,” Professor Ozpin said. “The rules by which the mantle of the Maiden passes from one to another are straightforward, more so than you might think: the person who is in the previous Maiden’s last thoughts before she dies will inherit her mantle as the new Maiden of that season. Provided, of course, that they are eligible.”
“Meaning no dudes allowed, and no old hags either,” Qrow commented.
“Or another Maiden,” Professor Goodwitch added. “Just as summer and winter cannot be at the same time and the same place, neither can the mantles of two Maidens exist in the same body.”
“Not naturally, in any case,” Professor Ozpin said darkly, but he refused to elaborate on exactly what he meant.
“It’s not uncommon for the last thoughts of the slain to be of their attacker,” General Ironwood said. “So killing a Maiden is an unfortunately reliable way of claiming their mantle, but it isn’t foolproof.”
“And if the person last in the Maiden’s thoughts is someone ineligible?” Sunset asked. “Husband, brother, son, their aged spinster aunt … what then?”
“The power chooses,” Professor Goodwitch said.
“So in the legends, when it says that God chose some girl from the back end of nowhere,” Sunset said, “that was actually just chance?”
“It was better to come up with some explanation to stop people from working out the real rules too easily, don’t you think?” Qrow said.
“Even though they are now in hiding,” Professor Ozpin said, “the role of the Maidens remains crucial to the safety and wellbeing of Remnant and its kingdoms. Do you remember me telling you of the four relics left by the gods, which Salem is seeking?”
“Knowledge, Choice, Destruction, and Creation,” Pyrrha said.
“Exactly, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “Each relic belongs to one of the four kingdoms: Choice for Vale, Knowledge for Mistral, Creation for Atlas, and Destruction for Vacuo. Each relic is held in a specific location, a location that can only be opened by one of the four Maidens.”
“Winter for Creation,” Qrow said. “Spring for Knowledge, Summer for Destruction, and Fall for Choice.”
Fall for Choice. Choice for Vale. Fall for Vale. Pyrrha stopped. “You mean … if I become the Fall Maiden … I won’t ever be able to go home, will I?”
Professor Ozpin stopped too, and looked back at her with a solemn look. “The Maidens are needed not only to reach the relics, but also to protect them. Like defending humanity against the grimm, it is a watch that does not cease.”
Pyrrha bowed her head. “I … I see.” That’s it then. No more white towers gleaming as they are struck by the first rays of dawn, no more river cascading down the mountainside to water the fields all around, no more standing on one of the upper levels and looking out at all the fertile land stretching out in all directions, no more climbing up from circle to circle getting higher and higher every time. No more Mistral. No more home.
“That … that doesn’t seem…” Sunset trailed off for a moment. “Is it the location they’re tied to, or the relic itself?”
“What’s the difference?” asked Qrow.
“I mean, couldn’t you swap the relics around so that Choice is in Mistral instead?”
“Sunset, it’s alright,” Pyrrha said softly.
“Is it?”
“Yes,” Pyrrha lied. “After all, you left your home to pursue a higher calling; why shouldn’t I do the same?”
“I left my home because I was a spoiled brat who hadn’t heard the word ‘no’ nearly often enough,” Sunset muttered. “But never mind that, I just … this isn’t what I imagined.”
It wasn’t exactly what Pyrrha had imagined either, but there was nothing to be done about that and nothing for it. Destiny was calling to her, and if she refused the trumpets now, then they might never sound again. “I’m sorry, Professor,” she said, as she started walking again. “Please go on.”
Professor Ozpin nodded gravely. “The situation that we are in now is … rather unique,” he said. “In fact, I daresay it is completely unprecedented.”
“I don’t understand,” Pyrrha said.
“The Fall Maiden was attacked by an assailant who we now know to be Cinder Fall,” Professor Ozpin said. “That is, sadly, far from unheard of, but what Miss Fall did is: she stole some of the Fall Maiden’s power.”
“'Some'?” Pyrrha said. “You mean that the magic we saw her carry out was just a part of what a Maiden is capable of?”
“Does that worry you?” Professor Goodwitch asked. “Because it certainly worries all of us.”
“Does that mean the Fall Maiden is still alive?” Sunset asked. “Cinder stole some of her power, but she didn’t kill her.”
“No,” Professor Ozpin said. “The Fall Maiden lives … for now.”
“If you can really call it living,” Qrow muttered.
“What do you—?” Pyrrha stopped with a gasp, because they had come to the end of the long transept now, and to the far wall that marked the end of the vault. 
There, beneath a rose window — or at least something that looked like a rose window, even though there was nothing to see beyond it nor any light to be admitted through it — sat some kind of device, two metal and glass pods joined together by a mass of thick wires and cables, while monitors produced a plenitude of readouts. 
Inside one of the pods, clearly visible through the large glass window that took up at least a third of the pod’s front, was a girl. She was young, perhaps even younger than Pyrrha herself, with a dusky complexion and dark brown hair in a bob with a long fringe that completely hid her forehead and even her eyebrows from view. 
Someone had undressed her and put her in what looked like hospital underclothes that exposed all but her most intimate parts to public view, so that just looking at her seemed almost indecent. Yet Pyrrha could not look away. She felt drawn to her, and not only because she was one of the only points of life and light in this dark place. She could not look away, nor could she stop. She walked slowly past Professor Ozpin and all the rest and towards this girl in the metal and glass pod. Her eyes were shut, and her heart-shaped face was ravaged by a mass of scars that criss-crossed across her visage as though Cinder had taken a butcher’s knife — or one of those obsidian blades of hers — to carve her up in envy of her good looks.
Are these the actions of a Mistralian warrior, Cinder? Is this how my namesake would treat her enemies? Is this our Mistralian honour, is this how the best and the bravest conduct themselves?
Is this what lies behind your airs and manners?
I knew that you had ambushed her, but this … what purpose does such cruelty serve?
“This…” she murmured. “Is this…?”
“Amber,” Professor Ozpin said. “The Fall Maiden.”
Pyrrha felt, rather than saw, Sunset draw close behind her.
“Cinder did this to her?” Sunset said. She sounded as though she couldn’t believe — or didn’t want to believe — that Cinder would be capable of such a thing.
I quite understand. I would rather not believe it myself.
“It appears so,” Professor Ozpin said. “The magic that she wielded could only have come from a single source.”
“What did she do?” Sunset asked quietly, sounding rather reluctant as though she did not particularly wish to know the answer.
“We’re not sure,” Qrow admitted. “There wasn’t time to … we don’t know. But it’s bad.”
Pyrrha stared at her, at Amber, at the Fall Maiden they wanted her to… “Wait,” Pyrrha said. “If Amber is still alive, then—”
“Because she’s dying,” General Ironwood said. “This is state of the art medical technology, and it’s only buying us time.”
“None of us knows exactly what will happen to the remainder of the Fall Maiden’s power when Amber dies,” Professor Goodwitch said, “but none of the options are good.”
“The best case, she wasn’t thinking of anyone eligible, and the power goes to someone random we have to try and find before Cinder catches up to them,” Qrow said, “but the last thing Amber saw was Cinder sucking the power out of her, so how likely do you think it is that her attacker isn’t the last thing on her mind?”
“That is, if the power doesn’t simply seek to reunite itself in a single vessel as intended,” Professor Ozpin said. “Which brings us back to Cinder once again.”
“Two out of three chances this power ends up in the hands of one of Salem’s pawns,” Qrow said. “Not good. In fact, it’s exactly the reason why the Maidens are kept secret in the first place.”
“If they’re so secret, then how did Cinder find her?” Sunset said.
“Amber was … is … young and inexperienced,” Professor Ozpin said. “Mistakes were made, and a great price was paid for them.”
Pyrrha frowned. “Professor … how is it that she … why isn’t her aura regenerating, healing her injuries?”
“Amber’s aura was … damaged in the attack,” Professor Ozpin said.
“Aura is damaged in battle, Professor,” Pyrrha said, “but it always restores itself with rest and—”
“Not in this case,” Professor Ozpin told her. “Just as Amber’s magic was split in two, so her aura has been torn asunder, ripped like a frayed tapestry, and like such a frayed tapestry, it is unravelling, unable to regenerate. Eventually, there will be nothing left. As General Ironwood said, we are buying time, nothing more.”
“Could Jaune do something?” Pyrrha suggested. “His semblance—”
“Might strengthen what remains of Amber’s aura, and perhaps buy her a little more time,” Professor Ozpin conceded, “but Mister Arc’s semblance does not have the power to undo the damage that has been done to Amber’s aura, and so it will continue to degrade, no matter much it is enhanced by artificial means.”
“I see,” Pyrrha whispered, as she looked once more into Amber’s stricken face, “but I still don’t see. If everything that you’d told me is true, then how am I supposed to become your Fall Maiden?”
Neither Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, nor Qrow spoke. They all looked expectantly at General Ironwood, expecting him to speak. He did not speak either, at least not for a few moments. “In the last few years, Atlas has begun to research aura from a more scientific standpoint. We have made significant progress, including this device which we believe can be used to extract aura and insert it into something else … or someone.”
“Sweet Celestia,” Sunset whispered. “You … you…” She looked at Ozpin and his cohorts, her mouth moving silently. “You can’t do this! You can’t just rip a soul out of its body and cram it into a new one! It’s wrong, it’s immoral, it’s … sacrilege. What happens to the person at the other end? What’s going to happen to Pyrrha?”
“We don’t know what will happen,” General Ironwood said. “This will be the first time using this device in this way.”
“Believe me, this is not a choice that I would make if I had any other choice,” Professor Ozpin said. “As you’ve heard, Miss Nikos, we don’t know what will happen to you. It may be that nothing will. But it is likely that there will be some effects from the joining of your life with that of Amber. You may be … changed, in some way. You may … you may no longer be yourself at all.”
Pyrrha understood exactly what he meant. If I get into this machine, then Pyrrha may die, and Amber may walk away in my body. The thought made her shudder. She glanced at Amber and saw her own face reflected back at her in the glass, superimposed on Amber’s own; she flinched away from it, clutching herself for comfort. 
“You can’t do this,” Sunset growled. “You can’t do this; I won’t let you!”
“It’s not your choice,” Qrow said.
“Maybe I’m making it my choice!” Sunset yelled. “Sometimes, you get involved in things that aren’t your business because it’s the right thing, or to stop the wrong thing. This is immoral, and I won’t allow it.”
“Miss Shimmer—” Professor Ozpin began.
“I trusted you,” Sunset snarled, which made Professor Ozpin flinch away as though he was physically hurt by her words.
“Sunset,” Pyrrha said, her voice gentle, and soft, and small, but enough to rise above Sunset’s anger nonetheless. “It’s really very sweet of you, but I don’t need you to defend me like this.”
“The fact that you say that makes me think you do,” Sunset muttered.
Pyrrha cast one last look at the dying Amber and gently raised her hand to place it on the glass and stroke it as if she could touch the face of the slumbering girl. She had a lovely face, for all her scars. 
Either Amber would die, or she would, it seemed; or else, they would both die as the world knew or had known them, and what emerged would be some hybrid of the two, neither Pyrrha nor Amber, but an amalgam of their natures fused together. 
“This is your choice, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “No one can force you to do this. And no one will. You know what is at stake, and what is at risk, and you must decide what you will do next.”
“And if she says no?” Sunset said. “What will you do then?”
“Then the power will fall into the hands of Cinder,” Pyrrha murmured. 
“Not necessarily,” Professor Ozpin said. “If you do not wish to take this step, then I will have to find someone else.”
But who, Professor? Who will you turn to if I … if I decline this great honour that you have deemed me worthy of? If I say no, if I refuse you, if I will not do it, if I would rather live as myself than become the Fall Maiden, what then? Who then?
Will it be Blake? Will Blake Belladonna be snuffed out ere she sets eyes on Atlas again, and all her promise with her? Her transfer papers rendered meaningless, all her hopes…
Will it be Rainbow Dash, climbing into this device because she has such faith in General Ironwood, and he would never lead her astray, so she will follow his orders, though they be the death of all she is?
Will it be someone else, someone who doesn’t know all that we know? Will it be Yang? Will Ren and Nora be separated from another teammate? Yang is nearly as strong as I am, as brave as I am, more of a leader than I am, strong enough to take on the burden of the world, no matter the risk. 
Or will it be Ruby? Will it be brave Ruby who would climb into this infernal machine without a second’s hesitation because it is the right thing to do, because there is no sacrifice she would not make for the greater good, even the sacrifice of her very soul? 
She had been blessed to know so many wonderful people since she came to Beacon. So many brave and talented people, so many kind people, so many strong people, so many people who were as fit as she to take up the mantle of a Maiden, who were as worthy of the honour as she, who were as…
Who were as little deserving to be damned as she, or less, far less deserving of oblivion. 
Which means that I have little choice. As much as her dream of destiny had become something of a nightmare, that didn’t give her the right to walk away when the right thing to do was to face it regardless, especially when the consequence was that this cup would pass to the lips of a friend, a comrade. 
She could not let that happen. She could not condemn someone she knew, or even someone that she did not, even if Professor Ozpin were to turn to someone like Weiss Schnee or Lyra Heartstrings, then still, though Pyrrha had less affection for them, still it would not be right to condemn them simply because she was not willing to take the step herself. 
That was not the action of a hero; rather, it was the shameful deed of a coward, and whatever else Pyrrha might be, she was not, she hoped, a coward. 
This was her destiny. This was what she had dreamed of, sought after; this was the path that she had wished to walk, had set herself to walk: to protect the world, to guard it as its great defender, to be its hero. 
She had not envisaged it happening in quite this way, but one could not anticipate the exact shape of one’s final goal. Though it would cost her everything … it would cost her just as much to turn away now. 
This is what I wanted; I cannot pass it on to someone else. 
What gifts hath fate for all her chivalry? None but hearts heroic oftenest win.
Anguish, and an early grave, just as you said, Cinder.
Well, if that is my fate … better me than another. 
“I’ll do it,” Pyrrha said, though her voice trembled even as she tried to make it ring out across the vault. “I’ll become your Fall Maiden, or … or try to, at least.”
What am I suited for, if not for this?
“Pyrrha,” Sunset said. She grasped at Pyrrha’s shoulders and stared pleadingly upwards into Pyrrha’s eyes. “Don’t do this. You heard what they said; you heard what this could do to you, and you heard them say that they can’t make you do this.”
“But someone must,” Pyrrha said. “Or else Cinder … or else Salem will have one of the four Maidens, she’ll be able to get one of the four Relics; we can’t just let that happen, I can’t just let that happen. This … this must be done, and since it must be done, then … then better done by me than by … someone else.” She looked Professor Ozpin square in the face. “I’ll do it.”
Professor Ozpin did not meet her eyes. Perhaps he could bring himself to do so. “I am in awe of your courage, Miss Nikos, but there is no need to act quite so rashly. Although time is short, there is enough for you to take some time to think on this matter carefully. Take that time, take a few days, until the end of the week. Then, I am afraid, I will need your answer.”