Cinder's Tale (Rewritten)
Cinder’s Tale
“Are you ready?” Pyrrha asked.
Sunset didn’t answer for a second before she said, “Yeah, I’m ready.”
“That pause was not necessarily reassuring,” Pyrrha pointed out.
“I’m fine,” Sunset insisted. “What’s she going to do to us?”
“I didn’t suggest that you were afraid,” Pyrrha murmured.
“No,” Sunset agreed. “No, you didn’t.”
The two of them stood outside the door to the interrogation room, the room which the two of them would shortly move Cinder out of, and down to the dark room in the basement where Professor Ozpin could question her without anyone listening in. Where Cinder could spill the beans about Maidens and Salem and everything else without anyone who wasn’t supposed to know about them finding out.
How had Cinder found out about Amber? How had she come into Salem’s service in the first place? Would Professor Ozpin even care about that, or would he only be interested in what she’d done once she made it that far?
“You were right,” Sunset said.
Pyrrha waited a second for Sunset to go on before she said, “About what?”
“It is over,” Sunset said. “Everything … it’s over. Just as you said. This part of the story is done. And soon … Cinder will be over too. Cinder will be done. It’s like Ruby said, like Councillor Emerald said. They’re going to hang her.”
Pyrrha’s voice did not, thank goodness, become inflected with outrage, nor did her expression twist into something like disgust. Her expression remained mild, her eyebrows turned outwards, her head tilted somewhat, and concern remained the overwhelming tenor in her voice as she said, “And that troubles you?”
“I…” Sunset hesitated. “So what if she deserves to die? How many other people also deserve to die but don’t, who aren’t put to death?”
“She is a killer,” Pyrrha observed.
“I know that,” Sunset said sharply. “I’m sorry, I … I didn’t mean to snap—”
“It’s fine.”
“No, I’m not sure it is,” Sunset said. “It’s just … maybe I just don’t like the idea of…”
“Of death?” Pyrrha asked. “Of dying?”
“Either?” Sunset replied. “Both.”
Pyrrha nodded slightly. “When I challenged Cinder to the duel, you told me that—”
“That was different,” Sunset said. “It seemed as though … only one of you could walk away. That was the point, those were the terms. Two enter, one leaves. That being the case … I didn’t want to lose you. I was prepared … as much as I feel … I don’t know how to describe what I feel towards Cinder.”
“Pity?” Pyrrha suggested.
“That,” Sunset agreed. “But not only that.”
“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “That’s what I have been afraid of.”
Sunset frowned. “That hurts, just a little bit.”
“Can you blame me?” Pyrrha responded. “Truly.”
“Yes, truly,” Sunset declared. “A bit.” She paused. “I chose you, on the night of your duel. I would … I will always choose you, if it comes to it, if I am made to choose between you. I would not trade or sacrifice you for her sake, and not only because I find the very idea of such things to be abhorrent, but … when you returned with news that Cinder had escaped, I was inappropriately glad of it. And now, when I do not have to choose between you, when you are safe and sound no matter what … I wish that she would not die.”
“It is…” Pyrrha hesitated a moment. “It is difficult to see how her road could end else. She started down a bloody path; did she imagine that it would end any other way?”
“No,” Sunset said. “No, I think that Cinder always … I don’t know, maybe there was a time when she thought that power could be hers, so much power that nobody could ever harm her, but no, I think … I think that she was always aware of the threat of death, and accepted it, provided that she might do some great thing before she died.”
“Something great according to her lights, at least,” Pyrrha said.
“Yes,” Sunset agreed. “Yes, according to her lights, if not the lights that guide others. According to the old Mistralian values, pure and ancient and bereft of the … touch of modernity with which you gentle them.”
“I thought you liked Mistralian values.”
“It turns out that I like the pretend Mistralian values that you so often model,” Sunset replied. “The real ones … the edges are a bit too sharp for my liking. Which brings me to my point: just because Cinder accepted death as an occupational hazard doesn’t mean that I have to like it. Ruby accepts death as an occupational hazard — so do you, for that matter — and I don’t like that either.”
“It is the life we all have chosen.”
“That doesn’t change what I just said,” Sunset muttered.
“Would you have rather that I—?”
“No,” Sunset said at once, before Pyrrha could finish, because she could guess — she felt that she could guess, at least, what Pyrrha was about to ask. “No, I would not. She would still be as dead, and I would not care for that either.”
Some might say that all of this is grossly hypocritical of me, considering that I killed Adam. But I hope that some might at least be open to the possibility that, as a killer, I am in a position to know whereof I speak when I say that no, actually, killing people isn’t a very good idea.
Certainly, it didn’t do my soul any good.
And whether it did the world any good … Adam’s death may not have done the world any harm, but as for the rest.
And even Adam … I do not regret saving Blake, not for a moment, but…
Would there were water enough in Remnant to clear me of these deeds.
“I fear,” Pyrrha said, “you cannot save her now. The die is cast.”
“I know,” Sunset said. “Why do you think I’m like this?”
Pyrrha frowned a little beneath her circlet. “You don’t have to do this. Penny could—”
“No,” Sunset said. “No, I do have to do this. I … I owe her this. After all, this might be the last time that I… I owe it to her to look her in the eye.”
Pyrrha nodded. “Very well. Shall we go, then?”
“Yes,” Sunset said at once. “Yes… let us go. Let us go and either… let us go.”
She pushed open the door and stepped into the interrogation room, with Pyrrha a step behind her.
They were here to take Cinder to a dark room, but the room that she was already in seemed literally dark enough, with the light dim and the walls a very dark grey. Sunset thought the lights might be motion triggered, and Cinder had turned them off by being so very still, but even when Sunset and Pyrrha walked in, the lights did not stir.
Cinder did stir, however, the silent statue turning her head to look at them, her black-painted lips twitching.
“Sunset,” she said. “And Pyrrha,” she added, her tone becoming a little more arch as she said it. “What a…” She smiled. “Well, you are a sight more pleasing to the eyes than the heavyset police officer I was expecting to come through that door.” She chuckled. “A rather belated good evening to you both.”
“It is night now,” Pyrrha said, a touch of grumpiness entering into her voice.
“Is it?” Cinder asked. “Is it so? Have I sat here so long? Have I … slumbered without sleeping all this while? Have I let time’s flow carry me off so far?”
“It has been some time,” Sunset conceded. “Were you lost in your thoughts?”
Cinder did not answer that; though she was silent for a few moments, no answer to Sunset’s question came even when she spoke. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “If it were Pyrrha alone, I might think that she had come to do what she failed to do in the street—”
“'Think'?” Pyrrha asked, folding her arms across her chest. “Or 'hope'?”
“What do you think?” Cinder asked. “Do you think that I think or that I hope?”
“I do not know,” Pyrrha said. “You might hope for the chance to escape.”
Cinder laughed. “And what would that avail me? To be a fugitive running—”
“Have you not been a fugitive running all this time?” asked Pyrrha.
“Yes, I suppose you have a point there, but even so…” Cinder murmured. “Who would fear me then, were I to escape? You have beaten me, in the sight of all. The world has seen you defeat me. I am Cinder Fall, but what is Cinder Fall once all of Remnant has seen her fall? In truth, after you defeated me in the forest, I was much diminished, but I thought — I hoped — that I might yet recover some of my former menace. I fear that is beyond me now. There is … nothing left. Nothing but…”
“An early grave,” Sunset said, her voice becoming hoarse, a croak clawing its way out of her throat.
Cinder looked at her. “So, you are come as messengers, as in some old tragedy, to bring me news? Here I sit like the Mistralian Women, while heralds come and pile misfortunes on my head, telling me of—”
“A daughter dead?” Pyrrha asked. “Is that now the news you would have had some messenger bring my mother? Word of my death and the downfall of my line?”
Cinder looked at her. “Is your point that I have no grounds to complain, or are you personally affronted that I wanted to kill you?”
“Mostly the first,” Pyrrha said. “Those who live by the sword must accept that they may die by it, or they are the most monstrous hypocrites, no?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to be a monstrous hypocrite, would I, not when I’m already so many other kinds of monster,” Cinder said lightly.
“But I must confess that I am a little … I never did you ill, that I recall,” Pyrrha said.
“No,” Cinder admitted. “No, you did not. I … it was a shadow of you that I hated. A figure that I created in my own mind and gave the name of Pyrrha Nikos. At most, the best that I can say, is that I wished to end you because you were a symbol. A hero to many, an idol to more, someone whose death would grant me immortal life.”
“'Immortal life'?” Sunset repeated. “Did you think that … that Pyrrha’s blood would let you live forever?”
“I thought my name would live forever,” Cinder corrected her.
“And your body?” Sunset asked. “Your … your actual, real life, what of that?”
“What of it?” asked Cinder. “My life has been … my body is … I had little enough worth living for.”
“Did you try and find anything worth living for?” Sunset demanded.
Cinder leaned back on her chair. “No,” she admitted, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. She chuckled. “I suppose it’s a little late for that now.”
Sunset did not laugh. Neither did Pyrrha. Sunset couldn’t speak for her, but she, for one, didn’t think that there was anything funny in what Cinder had just said.
The smile faded from Cinder’s face. She kept her eyes on Sunset as she said, “Did you know that, in Mistral, a scion of a lordly house will be hanged with a silk rope, not the hemp rope that will be used on a commoner? So, Pyrrha, for instance, if she should fall out of favour like a star falling from the heavens, would get a silk rope around that pretty neck of hers.”
Sunset looked at Pyrrha. “Is that right?”
Pyrrha kept her eyes on Cinder as she nodded. “Yes, that is correct. It is an ancient custom, as so much in Mistral is. One that probably should have been reformed some time ago.”
“I would rather that Vale had some similar custom,” Cinder said. “I don’t think it does, do you?”
“I … doubt it,” Pyrrha said.
“I didn’t think your family was well-born enough to warrant you any such dignity,” Sunset pointed out. “Unless you meant to claim it through your stepmother.”
“Well, it would be the first and only time I would be glad of the old bat’s existence,” Cinder replied. “She ought to be good for one thing, at least; is that not fair enough?” She paused. “I do not fear to die,” she said softly. “But I would not … I do not … do not wish to be dragged forth caged and chained before the baying of the mob and made to kick my heels for their amusement. Is that not also fair enough?”
Sunset swallowed, but said nothing. There was nothing to be said upon the matter, at least in her eyes. It was fair enough, save that there was nothing else save for Pyrrha or Ruby to have made an end of Cinder in the street while she lay helpless, and that … that was no better, to Sunset’s eyes. It might tarnish Cinder’s pride a little less, but Cinder’s pride would be as dead as she was, so what matter if it were tarnished?
“We,” she said, “we are not here to tell you how you will … we are here to bring you to another room where you may be questioned by Professor Ozpin.”
Cinder wrinkled her nose. “Ozpin? Really?” She sighed. “And after that? When the learned Professor has squeezed me dry to his own satisfaction, what then?”
“You…” Sunset hesitated. “You will be taken into military custody pending your trial.”
“Ah, so I’ll be sharing the cell next to Roman?” Cinder asked. “That will be a joy.”
“Valish military,” Pyrrha corrected her. “Not Atlesian.”
Cinder became almost as still as she had been before Sunset and Pyrrha walked into the room. She blinked. “Valish military? I will be taken into Valish military custody?”
“Yes,” Sunset said. “It was thought that … they’re worried about you trying to escape.”
Cinder laughed. “Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, I’m sure they are. They are very worried that I might escape and…”
Sunset took a step closer towards her. “Cinder?”
Cinder remained silent for a moment more, before she gave a smile that was almost but not quite a smirk. “Well, you don’t want me to tell you here, do you? Anyone might hear us here. I should keep quiet, and wait until you have brought me to the place that has been prepared, the dark place, for dark secrets, when I can tell you everything.” She raised her hands, although it seemed to take her some effort and involve a degree of fighting with the gravity dust. She grunted, and the muscles on her arms could be seen straining through the sleeves of her red and gold dress. “Come, then. I am in your charge and at your mercy. You may drag me there, or somewhere else, or anywhere you wish.”
Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, who gave a nod of her head — the teal drops swayed on their golden chains, hanging from her circlet — as they both stepped forward, taking one of Cinder’s arms and pulling her upright.
The chair on which she had been sitting dragged and scraped along the floor a little as they hauled Cinder up. She weighed a lot more than Sunset had been expecting — probably thanks to the gravity dust, although Sunset couldn’t discount the possibility that Cinder’s dress was hiding a surprising amount of muscle — but with aura, and with Pyrrha there to help with the literal heavy lifting, they were able to manhandle Cinder out of the interrogation room.
And it was manhandling, because Cinder seemed to be averse to assisting with her own movement in any way, shape, or form. She let her glass slippers drag along the floor, the toe step scraping at the linoleum, while Cinder hung almost limp in the grasp of Sunset and Pyrrha, like a dead stag that had been shot by the hunters who, now, having killed the creature, had the difficult task of getting its carcass back to their waiting transportation.
The difference being that the hunters asked for this, Sunset thought, as she grunted with the effort of pulling an unresponsive Cinder along. “Would it kill you to move your legs a little?”
“You do remember that I’m about to be hanged by the neck until dead, don’t you?”
“Okay, yes, that was in poor taste, I admit, but even so—”
“And my legs are shackled together, if you’ll recall,” Cinder responded, in a tone that would have seemed very affable under different circumstances.
“Even so,” Sunset muttered. “You know you’ll ruin your slippers letting them drag on the floor like that.”
Cinder’s response was to suck in a sharp intake of breath and, with a grunt of exertion all her own, raise her legs up off the floor.
“Oh thanks, thank you very much!” Sunset snapped. “You know, sometimes, you can be absolutely insufferable!”
“Only sometimes?” asked Pyrrha and Cinder at the same time.
Cinder grinned. Pyrrha cleared her throat a little too loudly.
“Somehow, Sunset, I doubt that I’ll have much occasion for amusement in what remains of my life,” Cinder said. “You must allow me to have my fun while I yet live.”
Sunset gave a wordless growl, though directed less at Cinder and more at the fact — of which she had just been reminded — that Cinder was going to die … and there was nothing she could do about it.
Sunset had her faults, Celestia knew. She had her faults, and those faults had led her to make some bad decisions and do some things that she wasn’t proud of, things that she regretted. Things that would destroy her life if they came out. But whatever else she was — and she could be called many things, no doubt — she was … Sunset searched for a word for what she was that didn’t sound unbelievably arrogant, aggrandising, mythologising.
She didn’t want to call herself a saviour, a protector; that sounded too grand, too full of herself, too … too much, much too much. But equally, all the more prosaic alternatives sounded rather wordy: a saver of people, it just sounded as though she was dancing around saviour.
She wasn’t a saviour, but she was … she saved people, that was the long and the short of it: she saved people. She had saved Pyrrha from Amber, or rather, it made Amber sound less menacing to say that she had saved Pyrrha and Amber from one another, and from Professor Ozpin’s reluctant ill-intentions; she had helped save Amber from Cinder; she had saved Miss Pole in Arcadia Lake from the Tantabus and from Evenfall Gleaming; she had saved Blake from Adam.
She had saved all of her friends under Mountain Glenn, although that … that was certainly not something that she wished to put herself on a pedestal over.
Nevertheless, she … she didn’t let people die. She might … she might play some part in their deaths, but she had never been one to stand by and let someone perish while she could do something, anything, to prevent it. She found a way, just as she had with Amber and Pyrrha.
But this? How was she supposed to save Cinder? How was she supposed to find a way when the whole apparatus of the Valish state was turned against her, and as importantly, so were Sunset’s friends?
Because there were easy ways to save Cinder, provided that one was prepared to damn the consequences, but Sunset was not prepared to damn the consequences. She wanted to save Cinder’s life, but she wasn’t about to just spring her right here and now, or teleport away with her somewhere.
She wasn’t going to betray the others like that, not Pyrrha or Ruby, Professor Ozpin, not even First Councillor Emerald.
But, since she wasn’t going to take such a step, since she didn’t have the kind of … since she didn’t have it in her, for good or ill, then what was she to do?
And no, it didn’t matter that Cinder didn’t seem to care much about being saved. Since when had Sunset ever cared about that?
What mattered was that she couldn’t see a way.
I suppose if I was a real saviour, I’d just do it even though it meant everyone thought I was as much of a monster as Cinder.
I’m not sure a real monster would put Cinder back on the streets, in all honesty.
I’m not a saviour, I’ve just got an aversion to loss. Like an allergy for the soul.
Except I wouldn’t change it. It’s who I am. It is my crowning glory yet, for all that it has brought me shame.
Yet nowm it fails me. I cannot see a way.
Cannot see a safe way, for what that might be worth.
“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked.
“What?” Sunset responded, her head — which had become bent and bowed down to the floor — snapping up and around to look at her. “Yes, did I miss something?”
“That depends,” Pyrrha said. “But it has felt a little as though I’ve been leading you around as well as Cinder.”
“Right, sorry,” Sunset muttered. “I was just—”
“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “Yes, I imagine you were.”
“Sorry,” Sunset said again.
“We’ve all done it,” Pyrrha said. “At least, you and I have.”
“Not when we were carrying someone who refuses to pull anything like their own weight,” Sunset pointed out.
“I was managing,” Pyrrha said mildly.
But Sunset was glad that Pyrrha had roused her from her thoughts, both because they were approaching a flight of stairs, but also because Sunset’s thoughts were going nowhere, and getting her nowhere, for that matter.
It didn’t help, but focussing on the immediate destination, and of carrying Cinder there, was a welcome distraction. They carried Cinder — still refusing to help at all and taking a perverse glee in the lack of assistance — down a flight of stairs into the precinct basement, and from there, they followed some empty corridors, carried Cinder passed a couple of large printer/scanner/photocopiers that were obstructing the corridor, bore her between walls of breezeblock painted white, and all the while under the fluorescent lights that shone sterile light down upon them.
That might have been preferable to the oppressive — if appropriate — darkness of the dark room into which they finally got Cinder.
There was no one-way mirror here, no glass to see in, no cameras mounted in the corners, nothing to see, nothing to hear. Nothing but a small metal table and a chair with a wooden back, with slats running up and down it that, in the circumstances, looked a little bit like prison bars.
Sunset was a little worried about tripping, so dark was the room. But it seemed that it was as barren as it was dark, because they were able to get Cinder across the room and into the seat facing the door without incident.
Sunset let out a deep breath. “I hope you enjoyed that,” she said.
“It was somewhat of a bumpy ride, but I’ll be sure to give you a good review regardless,” Cinder said. “I’d give you a tip, too, but I’m a little financially embarrassed at the moment.”
Sunset rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, we…” It seemed absurd that this was how it would end, that this would be the last time that she would ever see Cinder, the last time that she would talk to her, and yet…
Perhaps it was inevitable, as Pyrrha and Ruby and everyone else said. Perhaps it was the natural consequence of the roads that they were on, yet nevertheless … Sunset didn’t like it. She didn’t like it one bit.
And regardless of how she liked or didn’t like it, surely, they could all agree that it was absurd that this — this — should be the final moment between them. This!
“I…” I don’t want to go. I don’t want our last words to be sniping at you about a stupid thing that you did.
I don’t want it to end like this.
I want to save you.
But I don’t know how.
Cinder leaned back in her chair. “You know,” she said, “I would much rather talk to you,” — she glanced at Pyrrha — “both of you, I suppose.” She returned her gaze and attention to Sunset. “I would much rather talk to you than to Ozpin.”
“If that is what you wish, Miss Fall, then I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” Professor Ozpin said as he walked into the dark room.
Sunset looked in his direction. “Professor?”
Professor Ozpin closed the door behind him. “I am not so fond of the sound of my own voice that I must hear it,” he observed. “If Miss Fall would rather speak to you than to me, if she would rather hear you ask the questions which I trust you know to ask, then … by all means, I have no objections. Whatever helps this process to go as smoothly as possible. The truth is all that matters. If Miss Fall would rather give the truth to you, and to Miss Nikos, then … you won’t even know I’m here.”
He smiled benevolently as she leaned against the wall beside the door.
Cinder bowed her head. “Thank you, Professor; that is most courteous of you, most gentlemanly.”
“But why?” Sunset asked. “Why us?”
“Why you?” Cinder repeated, disbelief in her tone. “Why you? Come, Sunset, don’t you know?” She paused for a moment, before a smile crossed her face. “It’s because I want something from you in return.” She winked.
“Of course you do,” Pyrrha muttered.
“It is no onerous task, I assure you,” Cinder replied. “It will make no great demand upon your time — well, it may make some demand upon your time, but not upon your body or your soul. I do not ask that we should exchange armour, like Glauce and Helen, or that you should ransom me back the body of my daughter and my royal heir. It is nothing so … it is no great sacrifice I ask of you.”
“Then … what is it?” Sunset asked, sitting down on the edge of the table, looking directly down on Cinder. “What is that you would have of us? What is it that is in our power to grant?”
A rescue or a swift death.
“There was a time when I hoped for immortality,” Cinder murmured. “There was a time I dreamed of glory. That was what it was all about, really. Yes, power, I sought power, power to make myself safe and secure, power so that the likes of Phoebe and the rest of this bastard world could never hurt me again, but more than that … I wanted the world to know my name. I wanted Remnant to know who I was, to know that Cinder Fall was somebody.”
“Somebody to be feared,” Sunset murmured. “Somebody to be hated?”
“Well, it was clear to me that I was never going to be loved,” Cinder said. “But I could at least — I hoped I could, at least — write my name into the history books with infamy; though writers would record how awful I was, how I killed and ate up what I killed, how I slew the fairest and most promising flower that grew on the mountain and thus deserved to be cursed forevermore…” She glanced at Pyrrha. “At least they would record me. At least they would recall me. I would not just be one among the many who live and die in obscurity on the lower slopes, forgotten, cast aside, flushed out with the sewage.”
She bowed her head. “It hasn’t really worked out, has it?” She laughed, though there was more sadness than merriment in her laugh. “But … if you … if both of you, if…” She looked up into Sunset’s eyes. “Remember me. That is my price. I will tell you all you wish to know, and some that you will wish you did not know, but before that, I wish … I ask that you hear my story and that you remember me. Remember me, I … for I would not be forgotten. I would not fade, I would not disappear, I would … I would live on, in the hearts of … I would live on in your hearts, though Emerald tells me that that is impossible. I would be remembered. That is not so much to ask, is it?”
“No,” Sunset said softly as she found herself leaning forward a little. “No, it … it isn’t much to ask. Not at all.”
Pyrrha looked a little less happy about it, with the way her lips were pursed together, but even she took a step closer to Cinder. “I suppose … it is not too great a request, as you say. It is … you have been a dangerous enemy. At times, you have been a fearful one. I was not wholly confident that I would survive you, going into our duel.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Cinder said.
“In that way,” Pyrrha went on, “you are worthy of remembrance, at least. You will … you mean to start at the beginning, then?”
“At the beginning,” Cinder said softly. “Well, yes, I would start at the beginning, except that … except that I don’t have a beginning. I simply sprang, fully formed, out of the darkness like a grimm. Do you know how the grimm are made?” She looked at Professor Ozpin. “I would have thought that you would know, but then, if you know, why keep it a secret?”
“Does it matter?” Pyrrha asked. “Amongst my people, our people, there were some who believed that they were Seraphis’ punishment for a sinful humanity, others who believed that they were animals corrupted by dark spirits, and others yet who thought them gods. There are still some who worship them as higher beings, more perfect than we are. None of it changes their nature, or what we must do to fight them, or even how we fight them.”
“No, no, I suppose it doesn’t,” Cinder allowed. “In any case, if we got onto that, I daresay that I might stretch your patience, and I wouldn’t want you to get bored before we’ve even started talking about me yet.” She smirked. “Now, where was I?”
“You have no beginning,” Sunset remarked. “And at this rate, you will have no ending either.”
Cinder snorted. “Oh, very good, Sunset.” She paused. “Even so, I have no beginning. I was born as you see me now, Cinder Fall, fashioned as if out of the clay. But there was a beginning. There was a girl, once. A stupid, naïve girl, who believed in joy and love and happiness—”
“She sounds very wise,” Pyrrha said.
“We should all hope to be so foolish,” Sunset added.
Cinder did not respond to that, but carried on as if they had not spoken. “She died, poor thing; she died, but not before the world taught her the error of her ways, how wrong she was to believe in stupid dreams. This life, this world … it killed the dream she dreamed, and as it killed her dream … so it killed her.
“But, for a while at least, she was happy, and safe … and loved. She was born in Argus, to … honest parents, but not poor ones. M— her father had wealth from … he had it from his father, who I think had been in business. Yes, yes, he had been a trader of sorts; he had owned an airship — although he never flew it, as I understand, he paid people to do that; he just took a cut of the profit — plying the route between Argus and Atlas, bringing tobacco, tea, and silk to the northland and bringing back dust in great store. He was so successful that he was able to buy more ships and left a small fleet of vessels for his son to inherit, that his son became a notable man about the city.
“It was due to his notability that the little girl’s father was invited to attend the annual Town and Base Ball held at the Argus military base, where the garrison opened its doors to civic notables and dignitaries in the aim of building better relations with the civilian population. And there, across a crowded room, the little girl’s father met the little girl’s mother, who was a young airship pilot newly assigned to the Argus station.
“He used to tell the little girl stories about her mother,” Cinder murmured. “When she was old enough to understand them. He used to tell them even after … well, even when he had to tell them very softly, and very secretly, he used to tell her anyway, because he loved her so. Because she was his first love, and his true love, and a part of him remained true to her in spite of everything.” Cinder closed her eyes, screwing them up tight, and then blinked rapidly.
Sunset wondered if she might be trying to blink back tears, but no, she could not see them coming.
“Which I think speaks well of that man’s character, don’t you?” Cinder asked, looking up, her eyes flitting between Pyrrha and Sunset. “I think that a man should be faithful to his first love, don’t you? All this modern talk of moving forward, moving on, finding new beginnings … all rot and nonsense. Offensive. Wicked. I might even call it profane.” She looked at Pyrrha. “Don’t you agree, Pyrrha? Men should be faithful in their hearts and hold dear the memories of those who gave them their hearts, even when they are gone?”
“I…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “Is that not rather cruel, such a request? What if they have many years ahead of them? Must they spend it in loneliness?”
“Better to be lonely than to be a traitor,” Cinder said.
“And what of women?” asked Pyrrha. “Do they not have an equal duty to fidelity? Or are the rules that bind men so tightly relaxed for them?”
“Is it possible for a woman to betray the memory of love as men do?” Cinder asked. “What do you think, Sunset? Are women capable of getting over it, the way men do? Or is all the glory of our sex the curse of loving longer, and more hardily, despite the circumstances?”
“Women are capable of realising when they have been in the wrong,” Sunset said. “When what they may have thought was love was something more noxious by far. But, at the same time…” She licked her lips. “I fear I am of your colour in the rest, I … if Pyrrha were to fall, and I were to see Jaune turn to embrace Weiss or Yang in his arms, I would curse them both.”
“You are more cruel than I then,” Pyrrha murmured. “I would only wish him happiness.”
“I know,” Sunset said. “That is why I said I fear it so, yet it is who I am; I am not of this travelling temperament, I cannot change it. Not without great effort, anyway.” She ran one hand through her hair. “I think I would rather hear about this little girl’s parents than continue this discussion, for just as I fear my nature, I fear the revelations of my nature make me seem a beastly sort in Pyrrha’s eyes.”
“I have never told myself that you were perfect,” Pyrrha said quietly. “But I am in agreement with you; say on, please.”
“Very well,” Cinder said, leaning back in her chair. “Where was I?”
“Your … the little girl’s parents had just met, in Argus,” Sunset said. “At the Town and Base Ball. Y— her father told her stories.”
“Yes, yes, he told her stories,” Cinder agreed. “Such stories. He told m— he told her about the dress that she was wearing that night, and how nervous he was to ask her to dance. She was an Atlesian officer, after all, and thus, however beautiful she looked in her dress, how gracefully she moved upon the floor, she was bound also to be as fierce and deadly as a hawk, as proud as a queen. Plus, as he told it, every officer and gentleman wished to dance with her, handsome young gallants of Mistral and Atlas; why would she want to dance with someone like him, a merchant with soft hands and spectacles over his eyes?” Cinder smiled. “But she did. Eros fired his arrows that night, and the two of them were drawn together by fate, whom no man can escape. They danced two dances, then the little girl’s mother danced with one of her fellow pilots, but after that, nothing would please her but that she should dance with the girl’s father again. Two days later, he offered to show her around the city, since she was new to Argus. A few days after that, she took him ice skating, and he made an adorable fool of himself upon the ice.
“By their third date, he was sufficiently convinced that she was the one that the girl’s father proposed marriage.” Cinder sniffed. “Jaune needs to shape up.”
Pyrrha’s only reply to that was a snort.
“What kind of family did the girl’s mother come from?” Sunset asked, despite herself. It wasn’t important, obviously, and some might no doubt have said that it was Sunset’s duty to move all this along as swiftly as she could … but there was a part of her that wanted to know all the same.
And if they were going to remember Cinder, then some would say it was their duty to remember as much of her as they possibly could.
“An ordinary one, I think,” Cinder replied. “She was more guarded in talking about her family. As I understand, they disapproved of her marrying a man she had just met. They made her choose, and she made her choice. I believe … I believe there was a brother, in Atlas, but the little girl never met him, never heard from him, never … he was not a part of her life. Her mother’s family were irrelevant to her; they might as well have been dead.
“Which didn’t bother the little girl, because what you don’t know, who you don’t know, you don’t miss. She had her mother, and she had her father — I fear that I have gotten ahead of myself, but suffice to say that the merchant of Argus and the Atlesian pilot were soon married, and only little over nine months after, the pilot was delivered of a healthy baby girl. A happy little girl, who spent her earliest years in the city of Argus.” Cinder frowned. “When did you come to Argus, Pyrrha?”
“Not until I was thirteen, to go to Combat School,” Pyrrha said. “After I had completed my training with Chiron — although I still returned to him during the summer vacation, and I was absent from Sanctum to compete in tournaments.”
Cinder nodded. “You and that little girl, then, were never in the city at the same time. Your paths did not cross, not even as ships passing in the night, you coming to the city as she left it. You see, the little girl, this foolish girl, this spoiled girl whose parents gave her every luxury and comfort … this girl who wore pretty frocks and ribbons in her hair of all the colours of the rainbow, this girl who collected little glass animals, all lined upon the shelves, a glass menagerie of elegant creatures, all the beasts and birds of Remnant in miniature; this girl who was so loved, who was loving and beloved, this girl who thought that life could be a fairytale … when she was six years old, her mother didn’t return from a mission. She was answering a distress call from a freighter, although I didn’t learn that until much, much later. All the little girl knew was that her mother wasn’t coming home, and that her father was sad, and that all the comforting Atlesian platitudes about duty and sacrifice and all the rest of that crap, all the volley salutes and carefully folding up the flag couldn’t disguise the fact that mommy was gone. That Atlas had taken her away.”
“Cinder,” Sunset murmured, reaching out across the table towards Cinder’s hands.
Cinder jerked her hands away. “We’re not talking about me yet, Sunset. This all happened to someone else. Someone who has passed beyond the need for your pity.”
Sunset sucked in a sharp breath. “Of course,” she muttered. “Of course, you’re right, how stupid of me. I should have remembered.” She paused a moment. “But, nevertheless, it occurs to me that, if it hadn’t been for Atlas, that little girl’s father and mother would never have met, and she would never have come to be.”
Cinder stared at her and made no reply, just stared at Sunset for moments that passed, as though she had once more lapsed into the stillness that she had settled into in the other interrogation room.
Then she resumed her story. “The little girl’s father was unable to bear his grief in Argus, haunted as it was by the memory of his late wife, so full of the places that they had gone and the things they had done together. And so, he sold his stake in the business, sold his house, and took his careless, spoiled little girl back with him to Mistral, from whence his family had hailed before his father set out to seek his fortune in Argus. There, he met another woman, a woman by the name of Lady Kommenos. Her first name wasn’t ‘Lady’ of course, her name was Alexia, but almost everybody called her 'Lady Kommenos' or 'my lady,' so her first name might as well have been ‘Lady.’ I imagine it’s the same for your mother, isn’t it, Pyrrha? And it will be the same for you, eventually. You’ve got a life of being 'Lady Nikos' to look forward to, until the only hard evidence that you were ever called Pyrrha at all is some Vytal memorabilia that has survived in the collections of obsessive fans.”
Pyrrha cleared her throat. “Stick to the point, please.”
“'The point'?” Cinder asked. “Yes, I suppose I ought to have a point, oughtn’t I? The point, the point, the point. Well, yes, the point is that he met a woman named Lady Kommenos, a woman of good, if not of first rate family, the current head of a house which, for all that it had had its ups and downs, for all that there were some who questioned its worthiness, for all that some said that they descended from traitors who had sold out their kingdom during the Great War and deserved to hang for it — with a silk rope, obviously — nevertheless retained noble status, and some claim to ancestral virtue through deeds done both long ago and more recently, through the valour of Achates Kommenos, who had remained faithful to the Empire and the Emperor during the War.
“He never loved her, of course, the little girl’s father. How could he love her, such a cold-hearted bitch as she was? How could he love someone so wretched, so ruthless, so conniving, so self-centred, so utterly and completely incapable of love? How could he go from his first wife, beautiful, kind, warm-hearted, the most perfect wife and mother, the most perfect woman that the gods could fashion … how could he go from Alcestis to a harpy? How could he make such a downward step?”
“No doubt,” Sunset said, for she had experienced the answer — or what Cinder believed to be the answer — in her own soul, when she discovered her semblance, “he was thinking of his daughter. How she needed a mother’s care.”
Cinder laughed. She threw back her head and roared with laughter. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what he was thinking. 'A mother’s care' indeed, his very words. His very words as he sat that little girl down on the bed and told her that he meant to propose marriage to Lady Kommenos. After all, she came from a good family, the best family that a man of his background could hope to marry into, especially as a widower with a child, his child who would be protected by the match. It was all for his child, his little darling, his beloved daughter. That’s what he told her, anyway. She would be a lady, which was almost the same as being a princess from a fairytale. Doors would be opened to her, she would attend the very best parties and wear the very best dresses, and handsome young men would come courting her. She would want for nothing, she would be able to do whatever she wanted, she would hold all of Mistral in the palm of her hand, free to do as she wished, and none would gainsay her. It sounds a wonderful vision to describe, doesn’t it?”
“It is not so simple as that,” Pyrrha murmured. “Even in the best circumstances.”
“No,” Cinder agreed. “No, not even in the best circumstances. He was a liar, that man, her father. He lied to her. He told her that it was all for her, because on top of everything else, she would have a mother again.” Cinder’s voice suddenly rose, becoming very high-pitched, ending somewhere in the region of Ruby’s voice, or even higher than that. “‘But papa,’ the little girl said, ‘I don’t want another mother.’ ‘Well too bad,’ her father said, although not in as many words, ‘you need a mother to take care of you, and I mean to make sure that you get one.’”
“And in return,” Pyrrha said, “Lady Kommenos received his money, I suppose. That, at least, was what my mother always believed: that Lady Kommenos had married a wealthy man of the middle class because the financial position of the Kommenos family was not as secure as it seemed, and she needed to shore it up.”
“I don’t know,” Cinder admitted. “I was never privy to the accounts, and neither was the little girl, but it wouldn’t surprise me. The Kommenos family didn’t have the broad foundations of prosperity which the likes of Nikos or Rutulus or Thrace or Ming rest on; they didn’t have vast landed estates that had survived the Great War. So it might be true that they needed that girl’s father’s money, and that they relied on it after … but again, I get ahead of myself. The little girl’s father married Lady Kommenos, showing either that the gods had stolen his wits away or that it was a complete fluke that he had been able to recognise the excellence of his first wife when he saw her across a crowded room.”
“Or that he was prepared to swallow a lot for his daughter’s sake,” Sunset suggested.
I’ve become so used to reflexively defending people’s parents and parental figures after they fall out that I’m now entering the lists to champion a man who has been dead for years.
“Much good it did her,” Cinder said. “If that really was his motive, then he was … but no matter. His motives are of little import now, and he cannot tell them. Suffice to say that he married Lady Kommenos, and the little girl gained a stepmother, and two stepsisters a few years older than her: Phoebe, whom you both know very well, and Philonoe.”
Cinder looked at Pyrrha. “If anyone has a cause to hold a grudge against you, Pyrrha Nikos, it would be that little girl, if she lived. All those times that you defeated Phoebe, all those times that you humiliated her, all those times that you made her look pathetic, incompetent, useless, even though she was older and stronger than you, did you ever think about how she felt? About what she did when she got home, who she took her frustrations out on?”
Pyrrha was silent for a moment, and for a moment more after that. “No,” she admitted. “No, I did not.”
“You were only a child; it’s not your fault,” Sunset said. “It’s not Pyrrha’s fault,” she repeated. “What happened to … to that little girl, it wasn’t Pyrrha’s doing; she didn’t make Phoebe … it would have happened anyway, probably.”
“Because Phoebe was inherently vicious and cruel?” Cinder asked. “Yes, I suppose you might have a point there. In any event, she didn’t become truly unbearable until after the little girl’s father died, when she was nine years old.”
Pyrrha nodded. “And shortly after that, the stepdaughter of the Kommenos family disappeared from public life. It was … even years later, it was something whispered of the Kommenos family. Lady Kommenos said she was dead, of the same sickness that had taken her father.”
“Did people believe her?” Cinder asked.
“Some,” Pyrrha replied. “Some thought that Lady Kommenos had poisoned them both in order to secure her husband’s fortune. Others … whispered of darker things.”
“But nobody did anything but whisper,” Cinder said.
“No,” Pyrrha said defensively. “Phoebe was … a bit of a bad sport at times, and yes, she could show flashes of a nasty temper, but to leap from that to assuming that she was … that she would … she was a lady of Mistral, the daughter of a noble house—”
“And so she was above suspicion?” Cinder asked.
Pyrrha swallowed. “It was believed that she would abide by a certain set of standards and values, yes.”
“Well, she didn’t,” Cinder snapped. “Far from it, in fact. So far from it as to make mock of all your standards and your values, even while I think that Phoebe Kommenos was the truest expression of what it means to be a Mistralian aristocrat that lives, or lived, until very recently. Her cruelty, and not your beauty fair, your kindness, your humility, Phoebe was the true face of Mistral.”
“No,” Pyrrha declared. “No, I do not accept that; Mistral is not so foul. There are many good and honourable people amongst its upper echelons.”
“Are there?” Cinder asked. “Name some of them?”
“Lady Medea, of Colchis, though her manner be a little … disconcerting, at times,” Pyrrha said. “And apart from that, the Lady Terri-Belle, the Steward’s daughter, another who can be a little blunt and direct but is a valiant warrior and an honourable one, a good Warden of the White Tower and a devoted protector of the city.” She hesitated. “Lady Medea’s teammates, Jason and Meleager, although as children, we were … not close, I think they have grown up to be huntsmen of good heart. Hector—”
“I was not expecting a list,” Cinder admitted. “It must be nice, to move in the right circles so that you can meet so many nice people. Or perhaps it’s just nice to be so protected by your money, by your grand old name, by your reputation that wafts before you stronger than perfume, that everyone falls over themselves to at least feign niceness towards you, because they don’t dare do anything else.”
“Cinder,” Sunset said sharply. “Lay off.”
“Forgive me,” Cinder said quickly. “I … you must allow me a little bitterness, in the circumstances. You see, after her father died, that little girl … she saw all her dreams, all her hopes, all her naïve and stupid beliefs about the way the world worked … she saw them all come crashing down around her. Without her father to protect her, the true nature of the Kommenos family was revealed: cold, cruel, grimly determined to promote their own interests, no matter who they had to hurt to do so. The little girl was abused, humiliated, stripped of her prized belongings, forced to watch as her glass menagerie was smashed for sport. All those beautiful creatures, so pretty, that glimmered in the light with such loveliness … all broken. All shattered. All destroyed, and for what? Just to make the little girl who loved them miserable, to make her cry, to remind her that she was all alone in that house with no one to protect her. And now I find out that everyone thought that she was dead! Well, they weren’t too far off the mark. They killed that little girl, Phoebe and Philonoe and Lady Kommenos, but Phoebe most of all. They killed that little girl, so sweet and loving, and in her place … in her place was someone who would steal the keys, lock up all the doors and windows, and then set fire to the house with Lady Kommenos and Philonoe trapped inside.” Cinder smiled. “I could hear them banging around in there, trying to get out as the flames devoured them.”
“They were two people you condemned to burn to death!” Pyrrha cried. “Two human beings!”
“Two humans? What were their names?” Cinder asked. “Because their names were not Lady Kommenos and Philonoe, I assure you.”
“Just because they were—”
“What?” Cinder demanded. “Just because they were what, Pyrrha Nikos? Do not make light of what they were, or of what they made that little girl endure. I will not suffer that. They got what was coming to them, and so did Phoebe.”
“So you did kill her,” Sunset said. “Phoebe, I mean?”
“Of course I killed her,” Cinder said. “Who else would have?”
“I’m not sure,” Sunset said. “But it clears things up now that you’ve admitted to it.”
“Happy I could help.”
“You do not regret?” Pyrrha asked. “Not even a little?”
“Regret what?” asked Cinder in turn. “I have regrets, to be sure, but if you’re asking if I regret what I did to Lady Kommenos, to Philonoe? No. I had cause. They had earned the fates that befall them ten times over. Am I not entitled to revenge the wrongs that were done to Ashley? Am I not allowed my anger, and to inflict that anger and the wrongs done upon those who did the wrongs?”
“No,” Pyrrha said. “Not according to the law.”
“If the law denies me justice, then fie upon the law!” cried Cinder. “If the law binds those whom it does not protect and protects those whom it does not bind, then what right has law to claim the standing of moral right? What right has law to deny the right of vengeance? There are older things than the current laws of Mistral. Ancient laws and older customs still. Simple laws, perhaps, but aren’t simple laws the best? Kick the altar, pay the price? I gave them the only justice that would ever be visited upon them. I will not try and say that about all those whom I have killed, some I will admit did not deserve to die, and some … some I will even own that I regret, but them? Those two? No. No, their deaths are not near my conscience; they do not move me. By all the old customs, I had the right to take their lives.”
“The old days are no more,” Pyrrha informed her. “And the old ways with them.”
“Perhaps that is a cause for pity, not for rejoicing,” Cinder said.
“The old ways would have made me a slave,” Sunset reminded her.
Cinder’s mouth opened with no words coming out. She stayed that way for a couple of seconds, frozen with her mouth open like a frog trying to catch flies. “Well,” she said eventually, “it seems that Pyrrha isn’t the only one who can embody a sanitised version of our Mistralian history.”
Sunset shook her head. “What happened after you killed Lady Kommenos and her daughter?”
Cinder shrugged. “I spent some time amongst the criminals of the lower slopes, I made an unsuccessful attempt to infiltrate the high society of the high mountain … but I didn’t really belong in either of them. I didn’t feel like I fit in anywhere. I was … I was too covered in ashes for the high, too ambitious for the low, because I was ambitious. I had a destiny, you see. A grand and glorious destiny. Everything that I endured, everything that I suffered, it was all just a prologue to the glories that were to come. All my sufferings were simply tests of my resolve, of my ability to endure. One day, it would all come good. One day, I would be rewarded. One day, I would have such power that nobody could ever hurt me again.
“One day, my name would live in glory alongside the likes of Pyrrha’s namesake, the two Juturnas, Camilla, Penelope, Theseus, and Alcestis, the great heroes of our storied past. One day, they would remember Cinder Fall in such exalted company.”
“Even if only as a villain?” Sunset asked. “A killer? A nightmare?”
“Better to be remembered as a monster of nightmare than to be forgotten as the kindliest little ant that ever crawled about underfoot, no?” asked Cinder.
“No,” Sunset said. “No, I … I once thought as you did, I admit, but now … to be an ant, surrounded by other ants who love it, who offer without reservation the treasure of their company … that is a finer thing than to be the most infamous demon or the most exalted hero who ever sat upon their high pedestals, far removed from all others.”
“I must confess that I … since I began to … I have enjoyed Emerald’s company of late,” Cinder said. “She made a better friend than a servant or a minion.”
“Where is Emerald?” asked Pyrrha.
“Gone,” Cinder said at once. “Whither she has gone, I know not, but she has gone. She has gone where she will, and I wish her joy of it. I sent her away.”
“Why?” asked Sunset.
“Because … because I cared about her,” Cinder admitted. “Because I didn’t want her to get hurt. Because I knew how this would end, or at least, I thought I did, and I didn’t want her to get caught up in it. She deserved better than that.”
Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose a little. “I … see.”
“Do you?” Cinder asked. “Do you really? Or have I managed to shock you with my nobility?”
“You shock us because you sound like you intended to lose,” Sunset said. “What’s going on, Cinder; what was tonight about?”
“We haven’t gotten to that part of the story yet,” Cinder said.
“Right, no, we haven’t, have we?” Sunset muttered. “Have we got to the part of the story where you explain to us how you entered into Salem’s service? I mean, I can understand why you did — you wanted power, you wanted greatness, and Salem could offer you both those things — but … how? Nobody even knows Salem exists—”
“But people find her anyway,” Cinder pointed out.
“Exactly my point,” Sunset said. “How did you? How … how did you end up this way?”
“I chased a legend,” Cinder said. “Obviously. You know the story of how the prophetess Helen died, of the bandit and the Dark Mother?”
“We do,” Sunset said. “The Dark Mother told the bandit how she could attain great power by killing the prophetess, which she did, and used it to take over Mistral and become the first Red Queen. The Dark Mother was Salem, I take it; she’d found out — or worked out — how the Maiden powers worked and wanted to use them, and the trinket that she asked for in return, that was the Relic of…” She glanced at Professor Ozpin. “The Relic, it doesn’t matter which one it is, but the Relic held under … where were the relics held before the Academies?”
“You assume, Miss Shimmer, that the Relics were stored beneath the Academies,” Professor Ozpin said, speaking for the first time since Cinder had begun her account, “and not that the Academies were built over the vaults of the Relics.”
“In any case, you’re right,” Cinder said. “Salem was the Dark Mother, or the Dark Mother was Salem, either way. But how did she find the bandit? How did she seek out this outlaw, and why? Why her, out of all the brigands in Anima, in Remnant, why her?”
“Because she was eligible to possess the Maiden powers?” Pyrrha guessed.
“But how would Salem know that?” asked Cinder.
“Magic?” suggested Pyrrha.
“Magic can do a lot, but it isn’t an answer for everything,” Sunset murmured. “But don’t keep us in suspense, Cinder; if you know how she did it, then tell us.”
“There is a tale,” Cinder said, “that the bandit was not sought out by the Dark Mother, as the version of the Red Queen that is commonly told would have you believe; rather, it is said that a part of the tale is missing, that it was … misplaced, and that this missing part of the story tells that it was the bandit who first sought out the Dark Mother.
“In this lost part of the fable, the bandit, harassed by the Empress’ household warriors and desirous to find a way to save her robber band, went to a certain cave, a cave that was said to be the entrance to the underworld itself, where if one went down and down and far enough down, they would find themselves amongst the spirits of the dead and the spirits of those yet unborn waiting by the river Toth to rise to join their physical bodies on the appointed day. The bandit, it is said, went to this cave, and though she did not find any underworld there, no spirits of the dead, no clue to Mistral’s future and its heroes yet to come, she did find an immense pit, a gaping maw of darkness. And, though it was too dark to see, the bandit nevertheless perceived that something dwelt within. And so, she offered her plea to the darkness: she was a brigand, a bandit, a killer, and a thief, and she sought power to protect her people from those who would do them harm.
“From the darkness, it is said, came there no answer; but a few days later, the bandit was visited by the Dark Mother, who told her how she might obtain the power she sought, and so much more besides.”
Sunset swallowed, for her throat had become dry. “And … and is that true?” she asked. “Is that how you found Salem, did you … did you find this cave?”
“I did,” Cinder said, so simply, so casually, as though it was the most natural thing in the world that she had just described. “After all, the bandit and I had things in common; our wants were not dissimilar. And I thought … I thought that if there was any chance that the Dark Mother or someone like her would give me power, as she had pointed the way to the Red Queen, well … it was a chance worth taking, no? I couldn’t see how else I was to achieve my destiny; if I had another choice, I could not tell what it might be. And so, yes, I found the cave, although to put it so simply risks underselling the difficulty of it. Do you know how hard it was to find one specific cave in Anima? There are caves everywhere! If the location of this particular cave was ever widely known, it has long been forgotten, and it wasn’t as though I was welcome in any library to do research, scruffy-looking urchin as I was, with a malnourished and an unwashed look. I had to rely on scraps of geography mentioned in some versions of the legend, on local myths and old names by which places were sometimes known in days long gone. And by physically setting out across the wilds of Anima to find some of these places and see if they were what I was looking for.
“It was not always an easy road. It was often cold, there was very little shelter, my clothes fell apart, and I didn’t always have money for new clothes, or for food. I had set out to follow in the footsteps of a bandit, and for a time, I became a bandit myself. After all, while I had no money, no food, and no clothes, I had taught myself to fight, and I had weapons, and when you are cold and hungry on the road, and you have a bow and a sword and the person coming down the road in your direction has food or lien but no bow and no sword and no aura to protect him … I don’t need to spell out the temptation, do I? A temptation I was not always physically equal to resisting, and what resistance I made was as much to do with not wanting huntsmen set on my tail as anything else.
“Even then, subsisting upon the proceeds of banditry left my stomach aching, my body shivering, my skin clinging to my bones as my clothes turned ragged. It rained, it snowed, or else it was too hot, and I was drenched in sweat as I plodded on, step after step, under the heat of the sun. Only the thought of my destiny, only the thought that, one day, this would all come good, that it would all be worthwhile, only that belief kept me going.” Cinder snorted. “It seems I am as much a fool as that little girl.”
“But you did find the place?” asked Sunset. “You found the cave that you were looking for?”
Cinder nodded. “I did, eventually. I found the cave, the right cave, and just as the bandit had done before me, I went down into the dark and offered up my truth and my desire. I was a murderer, I confessed, and I wanted to rise so high that all would be forced to look up to me in awe.”
“And terror,” Pyrrha murmured.
“Terror is a form of awe, don’t you think?”
“So you spoke to the darkness,” Sunset said. “And then what? Did Salem visit you, as she had the bandit?”
“No,” Cinder said. “No it was a grimm who answered from out of the darkness, a giant grimm that swallowed me whole.”
Sunset blinked. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Cinder insisted. “It swallowed me, and the last thing that I remembered was the great bony head of this monster erupting towards me out of the darkness, with burning red eyes, and then … nothing. Nothing until I opened my eyes again, and I was … somewhere else. Somewhere else altogether. Not Anima, a different place, a dead place, no birds, no beasts, no grass or flowers, a dead world of barren rock under a blood-red sky.
“And Salem, standing over me, offering me a hand to help me up.” Cinder smiled. “Or perhaps the grimm ate me, and everything has been a sort of fever dream in my last moments as I am digested.”
“I hope not,” Pyrrha said.
“No,” Cinder agreed. “No, I rather hope not too; that would be very disappointing, that … that wouldn’t do at all.” She paused. “She was terrifying, Salem. Terrifying and alluring and majestic and … powerful. She showed me her ability to command the grimm, she showed me some of her magic, and she convinced me that she was the one who could answer all my prayers. She was the one who could help me achieve my destiny, and my heart’s desire.”
“And so you agreed to work for her,” Sunset said.
“You agreed to help her wreak destruction on the kingdoms,” Pyrrha said sternly.
“What had the kingdoms ever done for me?” asked Cinder. “Yes, I agreed to be her servant. I knelt to her and swore her my allegiance, to be her sword and faithful servant. She, in turn, promised to be a good and faithful mistress, that I should always have a place at her table.”
“And then she sent you to kill Amber,” Pyrrha said.
“No, first, she told me of her own need,” Cinder said, “of the Relics and that the only way to open the vaults that held them was to possess the Maiden powers. Then I made my plan, I recruited Emerald and Mercury and Lightning Dust, I hired Roman Torchwick, and I approached Adam Taurus of the White Fang, who refused me, at first. He didn’t want his people dying for a human cause. Or that’s what he said. I think, as much as anything, he just didn’t believe that I could pull it off.
“Then, after all that, I attacked Amber.”
“How did you know where she was?” Sunset asked. “Or rather, I suppose the question is how you knew who she was? The identities of the Maidens are kept secret.”
“Yes,” Cinder agreed. “Yes, they are a carefully guarded secret. You don’t know who the other Maidens are, do you, either of you? And the Maidens don’t know who their fellow Maidens are. The only people who know the Maidens’ identities are the inner circle within the circle. Tell me, Professor, which of your most trusted counsellors did you suspect of treachery? Or did you trust them all too much and simply chalk it up to bad luck?”
“Answer the question, Cinder,” Sunset growled impatiently. “How did you know?”
“Lionheart,” Cinder said. “Professor Lionheart has bent the knee to Salem, as I did.”
Pyrrha gasped. Sunset’s eyebrows rose. That … that would explain a lot, actually; not only how Cinder had managed to get into Haven in order to infiltrate Beacon this year, but also the dearth of huntsmen protecting Mistral during the spring break. It might even explain Haven’s general poor performance under his leadership.
She looked over her shoulder, at Professor Ozpin where he leaned against the wall. Outwardly, he was impassive, his expression inscrutable … but he was gripping his cane a little tighter, and the white of his knuckles betrayed him even if his blank and bland expression did not.
“That … that is … can it be true?” Pyrrha whispered. “So many have fond memories of Professor Lionheart’s tutelage.”
“And so many others sneer at him for his faunus race, or for his incompetence, or for the lack of silverware in Haven’s trophy cabinet,” Cinder replied. She paused. “Do you know that it requires the affirmative vote of all three other headmasters of the remaining academies to appoint or dismiss the headmaster of any academy? It wasn’t the Mistral council who wanted Lionheart; it was his fellow headmasters who secured for him this post where he could be constantly humiliated, put down, spat on, derided; those who called themselves his friends made his life a living hell, and you find it impossible to believe that he might seek vengeance upon them for it?”
“Is that why?” Sunset asked. “Because he was tired of the racism and the criticism?”
“Or perhaps because he wanted to rule Mistral once the dust settled,” Cinder said. “Or perhaps he was simply afraid for his life, terrified by the insurmountable odds against you, and Salem promised him that he would be spared the bloodbath. I don’t actually know; we never discussed his motivations. I’m just saying, it wouldn’t really be very surprising, would it?
“And, if you want more proof, why don’t you look at how many Mistralian huntsmen and huntresses have disappeared recently?”
“'Disappeared'?” Pyrrha repeated.
“It hasn’t been widely publicised, but I doubt it can be kept a complete secret,” Cinder went on. “Mistralian huntsmen and huntresses have been having the bad luck to consistently run into other servants of Salem. Now, why don’t you ask yourselves how that keeps happening, and who would have the information about their missions to pass onto us — and knowledge of the Fall Maiden’s identity?”
Sunset said nothing. She had already mentally conceded to herself that it made sense. And, in truth, she had no reason not to believe it. Who or what was Professor Lionheart to her? A man she had met all of twice, a man who hadn’t impressed her enough that she would give him the benefit of the doubt, a man who had the means to do all that Cinder accused him of doing.
“How long?” asked Pyrrha, her voice trembling a little. “How long has Professor Lionheart been in service to Salem?”
“I don’t know,” Cinder confessed. “Since before I came into her service, but after the Spring Maiden disappeared.”
“'Disappeared'?” Sunset asked.
“Yes, it seems the Spring Maiden ran away some time ago,” Cinder said. “The burden of her task got to be too much for her. She has not been seen these many years. Salem has someone looking for her, in between his other duties, and I presume that Ozpin has someone looking for her too, but Lionheart didn’t know where she was or have any information on the progress of the search. But, as much as the idea of striking down Pyrrha with a sword fashioned by the gods themselves appealed to my sense of the dramatic, Salem had decreed that the Relic of Choice should be the first to fall into her hands.” Cinder paused and looked at Professor Ozpin. “She wants you dead. She believes that with you dead and Beacon gone, then the world will fracture, and descend into chaos.”
“That will not happen now,” Pyrrha observed.
Cinder glanced at her. “You think … of course you do; you think you’ve won, you think that I am the only … there is a part of me that wishes it were so, although at the same time, I should admit that if it were so, I would never have … you asked why I acted the way I had, earlier. The reason why, the reason why I made such a grand entrance, the reason I made such a mad charge, the reason I was willing to risk everything is because … because I have nothing left. Salem, it seems, has grown tired of my incompetence; Lionheart is not the only one to betray your cause.”
“Someone else?” Sunset asked. “Who?” Not General Ironwood, surely; that would break the hearts of Blake and Rainbow Dash.
Professor Goodwitch? But then, she’s had chances to kill Amber if she wanted to; they’ve been left alone together.
Cinder licked her lips. “Do you know what a siren is?”
“Yes, it’s a magical creature from my home,” Sunset said, as much for the benefit of Pyrrha as for Cinder herself. “There were three of them; they had the power to use their voices, their song, to cause strife and discord amongst those who heard it. They would then feed on the negative emotions that they had stirred up to increase their own magical power, which they could then use to bend the wills of others.”
The way that worked was, in Sunset’s opinion, both ingenious in the way that it made use of a feedback loop whereby they never had to worry about a lack of negative emotion to feed on because they could create the negative emotion without expending their power to do it; for the same reason, she also felt that it was a bit of a cheat.
“They threatened to take over my homeland with that power, but they were defeated by a great wizard, who banished them to…” Sunset stopped, abruptly aware of where this was going. The anti-Atlas sentiment, the anti-faunus sentiment, the way that — for all that it could be argued there was cause for it, the Breach, the actions of the White Fang — that both had seemed to spring out of the ground one day, with no build up; the way that both Ruby and Yang had said that this didn’t seem like the Vale they knew, that something strange had taken over their kingdom. All of that was signs of a siren’s influence, but Sunset hadn’t even considered it.
Even after meeting Eve, after having it brought home to her the way that Starswirl the Bearded had used Remnant as a dumping ground for every villain and monster that he had wanted out of Equestria, even then, she hadn’t made the connection. She had just nodded along and accepted it when the others had said that it must be because of the Breach, because of the White Fang; she had just accepted their theories when she should have known better.
She should have known that there were other possibilities. More Equestrian possibilities.
Just because I’m far from home doesn’t mean that I’m alone. I should have remembered that. “He sent them here, didn’t he?”
Cinder nodded.
Sunset groaned and closed her eyes. “Once more, Professor, I must offer you an apology on the behalf of my people; we have used your world appallingly.”
“After you exposed me, and I had to leave Beacon,” Cinder went on, “Salem sent a siren here to Vale, at my request.”
“They serve her?” asked Pyrrha. “Then why hasn’t she used them before now?”
“They have been Salem’s prisoners,” Cinder corrected her. “Salem doesn’t trust them not to act in their interests, not hers. That is why she only sent one siren and kept the other two as hostages for her good behaviour. Nevertheless, one siren was enough for the new plan that I devised after you scotched my old one. I take it you found the virus in the CCT?”
“Twilight did, yes,” Sunset said.
“Clever, clever Twilight,” Cinder murmured. “I had intended to use the virus to turn General Ironwood’s androids against you, as well as to manipulate the draws for the tournament fights as part of a scheme too convoluted to get into now, but anyway, after it became clear that wasn’t going to work, I decided to use the siren, Sonata, to stir up enmity and hatred amongst the people of Vale instead. At some point, probably soon, grimm cultists will launch attacks on key elements of Vale’s civic infrastructure, which will be the cue and cause for the eruption of chaos in the city, rioting, and general disorder.
“Unfortunately, for both of us, Sonata has spread her influence into the Valish Defence Forces, so there will be no help there in defending the city. That’s why I’m to be handed over into their custody, so that they can kill me, before … well, it’s a bit late to shut me up, isn’t it, but I’m sure that they still see the value in damage control by taking my life as soon as possible.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sunset said. “The siren, yes, I could believe that, but the Valish military? Killing you? You’re the one with the Maiden powers, or with some of the Maiden powers; you’re indispensable to their whole operation; without you, then … without you, then what’s the point?”
“The point,” Cinder replied, “is that the chaos in Vale, probably combined with a grimm attack — although I opposed that — will force the deployment of the students and all other available forces either to manage Vale and or repel an attack on its outskirts,” Cinder said. “Which will leave Beacon empty and the Relic of Choice ripe for the taking.”
“Taking by who?” Sunset demanded. “You say that you opposed a grimm attack, opposed who, is the siren making this plan?”
“Tempest Shadow and Bonnie Bonaventure, Salem’s other agents in Beacon,” Cinder explained.
“Tempest … you mean Trixie’s teammate?” Sunset declared. “And Bon Bon? Bon Bon? Come on, Cinder, we … we’ve sat here, we’ve listened to everything that you have to say, and now … you can’t just pluck names out of thin air; you might as well say that Yang is working with Salem, or Ren and Nora.”
“Either of those three would be more competent than Bon Bon,” Cinder said. “Nevertheless, Bon Bon is who I was stuck with, and Tempest … Tempest was more of a rival than a servant. And now, she is the rival who has displaced me. I have no doubt that she is now in overall command of the Vale operation.”
“But she is not a Maiden,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Even if what you say is true, though we have little reason to believe it, Bon Bon or this Tempest Shadow could not open the vault and retrieve the Relic of Choice, even if they knew where to find it.”
“No,” Cinder said. “But Amber could, and Amber will. She has betrayed you all.”
“Oh, come on!” Sunset yelled, getting up off the table and stomping across the room, turning at the wall before finally rounding on Cinder. “You really … we have done what you asked. We have done everything that you asked, we have heard you out, and now … this!? This, seriously? Are you being serious right now?”
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” Cinder said.
“Of course we don’t believe you!” Sunset cried. “This is … this is Amber, we’re talking about. You’re asking us to—”
“You are asking us to believe you, our enemy, who has sought our deaths, and sought Amber’s death, and sought the downfall of our school and of Vale itself, against a sweet girl and a dear friend,” Pyrrha said coldly. “Why should we do such a thing? Why should we indulge in such a folly? Have you any proof?”
“Tempest defended her tonight,” Cinder pointed out.
“Perhaps that’s because she saw a deranged woman flying down the street and thought you were up to no good!” Sunset yelled. “Not to mention the fact that for that to constitute any sort of proof, we would first have to accept that Tempest is an agent of Salem, which we do not.”
“You attacked Amber,” Pyrrha said. “You stole half of her magic, you rent her soul and left her for dead; why would you do that to an ally?”
“She wasn’t an ally then,” Cinder said. “I believe—”
“Oh, you believe,” Sunset sneered dismissively.
“Yes, Sunset, I believe it so,” Cinder snapped. “I believe, I am convinced, that Tempest Shadow and Bon Bon — and Sonata too — hatched a plan to cut me out of this operation. They convinced Salem to go along with it, and she, despite her oaths and promises to me, agreed, because she had grown tired of my … my failures, my disobedience, the risks I took like meeting you, Pyrrha, in single combat. They went to Amber, and she, not wanting to die, not wanting to be hunted all her life — do you really expect people to remain loyal to you when you give them nothing but the most awful lives, with no prospect that things will ever improve for them? — agreed to give up the Relic of Choice.”
“That’s a hunch!” Sunset said. “That’s what you think, you can’t know that, you can’t prove any of that.”
“If I did not believe it so, why would I act thus?” Cinder demanded. “Why would I tell you all, why would I make such a spectacle, why would I … why would I make so as to throw my entire life away! Why would I court death in such a way except because I have been betrayed by Salem, and I … and I have nothing now.” A sigh escaped her black lips. “Nothing to fight for, nothing to live for, nothing but … why else would I do this?”
“I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “I don’t know, I don’t … I don’t understand you, Cinder! There are times when I think I do, there are times when I think that we are alike, but then there are other times when you do something or say something, and you remind me just how alien we are to one another.” She shook her head, even as she put one hand to her brow. “I … I don’t know. But I do know Amber—”
“And she is so very brave that she would never do this?” Cinder demanded.
“She is so very gentle,” Pyrrha said. “And mild, and good of heart.”
“Gentle-hearted girls get broken by the world in all its cruelty,” Cinder said. “And then … something else remains, something darker.” She sighed again. “I have said my piece. I have told you all. Believe me or not, as you will; do with what I have told you, as you will. Although I would rather that you believed me and acted upon what I said while there is yet time.”
“Why?” Sunset asked.
“Why?” Cinder repeated. “Why, is…” — she laughed — “is it not obvious? It’s because I don’t want you to get hurt.”
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I'm not sure how to describe this chapter but I loved it!
Poor Cinder.
9837575
Well, being a mass killer I think she lost any sympathy.
Meanwhile the only person Sunset killed was a crazy racist who was a killer.
9837633
She hasn't really killed anyone in this story yet though iirc. Her stepmother and stepsister, who don't count, and a few White Fang, who also don't count.
9837640
Bandits here and there, tried to kill Amber like in canon, ordered the breach but if I remember Scipio’s chapter on that there wasn’t many casualties, possibly a few Atlesian mooks when she infiltrated the CCT.
Prolific, maybe. Mass? Eh, there’s real life serial killers with a higher body count. The important thing is no named characters!
9837640
She has been in Salem service for a while so we only have her word for it.
9837656
Once on start on the 'the character might have done this off-screen because reasons', you can go anywhere. Best to stay away from that kind of speculation.
9837647
Bandits are criminals, so no loss there. Amber a) survived, and b) is an evil bitch. Forgot about the guards, but I see them more as casualties of war. Plus, you know, Atlas/Mantle.
9837693
Cold lol. Those men had families! Have you no pity for the widowed Mrs. What’s the Wifi Password Guy?
Sunset Cinder (or Shimmering Cinders) is my new fave OTP. I love the playful flirting/banter they have.
9837739
I call this ship Hellfire
Well, I guess that Ironwood now knows that Sunset Shimmer has a magical background.
Just like Sunset raged at Cadence for so easily claiming the power she always wanted, so too did Sonata upstage Cinder. But ultimately, Cinder's own twisted sense of morals and beliefs can be summed down to a single line from Harry Potter.
9837711
Oh no! Not the wifi password guy!
9837739
Yeah, I've been shipping them for a while. They just work so well together.
9838187
It’s Beacon but replace the E with a 3 and add a pound symbol to the end, in case you were wondering
I wonder what Emerald's doing....
Also is Fluttershy's semblance just talking to animals or controlling them as well. Cause she talked to Boarbatusk (was it a Boarbatsuk might be mis-remembering)
but what I can remember she talked to it just fine..it just really really wanted to kill her.
Wonderful dialogue! Dreading the inevitable SAPR sit down as they try to talk Sunset out of saving/protecting Cinder.
9837640
She killed her other step-sister Phoebe at the dance, no?
9838782
It doesn't matter if the experiments were successful or not, it the context of their existence to an outsider's perspective which would be seen as Atlas attempting to weaponized the Grimm for their benefits
If those pieces of evidence were released, then the factions of Anti-Atlas protesters would be able to claim any anti-Grimm operations Atlas conducted was done as a false flag operation to rise its influence.
9839000
Yeah, Cinder did but Phoebe made life for everyone else more difficult
If anything, phoebe's mentality was more contributing to stoking the flames of conflict
9837633
True enough. Just pointing out that yes, she has killed someone of unclear importance "on-screen" in a calculated way.
9839000
Again, someone evil, so doesn't count.
Hmm, I think there's more to this. What if Oz tried to hide one of the Maidens away in Equestria, only for her to return years later.
You know the sad part? What Cinder said about Amber makes a lot of logical sense. The only reason Sunset and Pyrrha wouldn't believe it is because they are to emotionally attached to Amber. Ozpin... I'm not sure what Ozpin is thinking right now, but I suspect that he'll be waiting at the Vault when everything kicks off because there is a part of him that wishes deeply that she is lying, but he is far too experienced with tragedy and heartbreak to rule Cinder's warning out completely.
As for keeping Cinder away from the Valish military... I believe there is a surprisingly simple way of doing so. Taking C. Emerald aside and telling him upfront about the Grimm Cultist uprising that is incoming... and that they took advantage of the reorganization of the Vale military to infiltrate its ranks with intent to sabotage defenses, tie up loyalist military units and open holes in the lines for Grimm to pour in. Even make mention of Sonata as a cultist with a powerful semblance that can enhance darker emotions and influence those feeling such things, which they made use of to deepen and stir up existing social fault lines such as Faunus racism and further drive a wedge between Vale and Atlas in order to lay a foundation for chaos and strife for the Grimm to pick clean.
Cinder better start naming the other members of Salem’s circle, IMMEDIATELY. Dr. Watts, Hazel, and Tyrian. The first two would be quite familiar to Ozpin and Ironwood.
And Ironwood would know that Tempest and Bon Bon had connections to Watts.
Well... looks like Cinder slipped her previous name. Sunset already knew, of course, but now Ozpin and Pyrrha know.
11723684
They already knew that. Knowing that she was Phoebe stepsister would have been more than enough to given them her personal information, at least the one in the records. And Sunset already told them that as a justification of why she believed that Cinder had killed Phoebe.
At this point, the logical thing for Cinder to do is to tell Sunset to use her Semblance on her to show her the truth. But of course, doing so would take away the possibility for our heroes to argue fruitlessly until it’s too late to stop something terrible from happening…
Ah well. If you can’t rail again the dumb choices of the protagonist… is it even a dramatic story?
Failure at this point by any single one of the four characters present to insist that Cinder's claims be verified telepathically would be an egregious unforced error. Maybe Ozpin, Sunset and Phyrra are all blinded by subconscious fear that the accusations are true, and desperate to avoid any course that could realize that fear; even so, Cinder should prefer having her memory examined to being disbelieved.
11724020
11723731
Sunset has never used, or even considered using, her semblance to get information out of people. She still tries to ignore her semblance unless she is cornered into using it and so would not be a reliable way of validating any information (at least at her current ability level). We also have not seen her use her magic for anything even remotely similar, so that path is even less likely.
Plus, Sunset's first use of her semblance was horribly traumatic to Cinder, opening deep wounds. I don't see how Cinder, someone who is almost unable to be honest to herself, would be willing to bare her soul like that to give information to the team. She could barely bother to give them the information when they asked.
Could Sunset technically validate any info from anyone? Yes.
Do I believe they will actually try to do so? No. It is not in character for anyone involved and even if they tried I'm not sure she has shown the skill to do so reliably. Especially when Cinder accusation of Amber (the actual problem for the team) is 100% assumptions from her side, she has no memory to show to validate that info in the first place.
Just tell Sunset to touch Cinder and confirm with her eyes
I will say it once and i will say it again. Cinder is such a good damn character. The Cinder from the RWBY show was not that great. But here, she is one of the best characters. My 4th favorite one to be exact.
So good.