Transfer of Power

It was Mistral.

Sunset knew that, although she couldn't have been more specific than that in regards to exactly where she was in the great city, but she recognised the styles of the houses; she could look up and see the city rising as it cover the mountainside; she could see the White Tower, gleaming softly in the moonlight.

It was dark here, as dark as it had been — as it was — outside, in Vale, at Beacon, in the waking world. As there, so here, it was night time still.

Sunset looked around, searching for something that she might recognise, a landmark of some description; she had little hope of recognising this place with her own memories — she had not seen that much of Mistral, after all, and only the parts of it most suitable for tourists — but perhaps if she could get her bearings, then she could get a sense of which of Cinder's memories this was. She didn't know for sure, but she thought that it must be from somewhere between the deaths of Lady Kommenos and Philonoe and when Cinder struck out to seek out the Dark Mother. Or perhaps it was when she had been in Mistral at the same time as them, posing as a Haven student.

Hopefully, something would…

Sunset stopped, because as she turned around, as she turned in place within this Mistralian square, her green eyes widened to behold the statue that had been behind her, looming unseen over her, dominating the space for all that it had gone unseen at first by Sunset.

It was a statue of Pyrrha.

She was depicted much larger than life-sized, the statue was about twenty feet tall if Sunset was any judge, it towered over the Mistralian houses all around, and to the height of the great statue itself was added a marble plinth that was nearly as tall as Sunset was. In pose, Pyrrha had been modelled after the statue of Victory that Sunset had seen in the temple: head bowed, shield held in front of her below the waist, both hands upon the rim. The statue was made of gold, or at least it was gilded — it might have been bronze beneath — with sparkling emeralds set in Pyrrha's downturned eyes. Sunset had never seen that in any Mistralian statue before.

She had never seen this statue before either; she had never imagined that such a thing existed — although it didn't surprise her that Pyrrha hadn't gone out of her way to show it to them. She wondered where it was, and when it had been put up, and why; yes, Pyrrha was well known and well regarded, but surely, a statue like this was a bit much even for an unprecedented run of tournament victories, even for one of the high blood of the line of Nikos.

Sunset took a step forward, and then another, walking across the flagstones of the square towards the statue — the eyes of literal emerald looked down upon her as she went — and towards the plinth on which the statue stood.

She walked forwards, so that she could read the words on the bronze plaque affixed to the white marble.

Pyrrha Nikos

Champion of Mistral

Last of the House of Nikos

'Last'? 'Last of the House of Nikos'? Sunset knew what that meant, she had pondered the dread possibility often enough, fretted over it, feared it, but to read it here…

What memory is this?

"So," Cinder said, drawling out the word, as she drawled out her sentence after. "You came. I thought you would."

Sunset turned, away from the plinth, away from the towering statue; she could see Cinder now, slinking forwards from out of the darkness. She looked as though she had seen better days: her clothes were stained and ragged, the gold thread on her sleeves was starting to unravel, there were tears and nicks at the hem and the cuffs. Her glass slippers were gone, replaced by a pair of plain brown slippers that looked almost like rags wrapped around her feet. Her hair was untidy, and there were smudges on her face.

"If you thought I'd come, then what was the point of all this?" she demanded. "If you thought I'd come, then why go to all this trouble?" She glanced up at the statue, where the emerald eyes looked down upon her. "Where are we?"

Cinder, too, looked up at the statue. "I hope you appreciate the choice of venue," she said. "I thought it was rather appropriate."

"Don't look at her," snarled a voice — snarled Sunset's voice, but not from Sunset's mouth. Sunset's equine ears pricked up as she heard her own voice coming from elsewhere. She turned again, putting Cinder behind her now, only to behold herself, approaching from the other direction.

It was her, it was Sunset Shimmer, but not as she had ever been, not as Sunset recognised. This other Sunset was dressed all in black: black jacket, black jeans, black gloves upon her hands, her armour painted black so not a trace of bare metal could be seen. Her hair was long and ragged and unkempt; it looked as though it hadn't seen a comb for weeks or months, never mind a pair of scissors — or a shampoo bottle, for that matter. It fell down in front of Sunset's face, so that Sunset was surprised that she could see past the curtain. Her hair was the only thing about her that wasn't black, that bore no black about it — even Sunset's face had dark bags beneath her eyes, for all that curtain of untidy hair served to conceal them somewhat from first glance. She looked as though she hadn't slept in some time, perhaps for as long as she had been letting her hair get this way.

This didn't happen, Sunset thought, as she retreated out of the way, moving so that she no longer stood between these two. Not because she wanted to get out of their way — they couldn't see her, and she would not obstruct them — but because she wanted to keep them both in view without having to keep turning around all the time.

So she backed off until she could see them both, them and the great looming statue of Pyrrha that stood between them.

"Don't," Sunset — the other Sunset — repeated, shaking her head vigorously. "Don't look at her, you don't…" Her whole body trembled. "You don't have the right to look at her, not after what you did."

"You make it sound as if I did something untoward," Cinder murmured.

"You killed her!" Sunset yelled, the words echoing off the buildings that surrounded them, echoing into the night. Killed her, killed her, killed her, the words hung in the air all around, repeating over and over again, driven by repetition into Sunset's mind.

No. No, she didn't.

Cinder took a step closer to the statue. "I laid her low in stricken battle," she said. "There is no shame in that."

"'No shame'?" Sunset repeated, disbelief making her voice as soft as a whisper. "'No shame'?" She made a sound that was either a strangled chuckle or a sob. "I hate you."

"I know," Cinder said, calmly, as though she was the very fount of calmness, as though nothing in the world could disturb her serenity. "And here, in this place, beneath her lovely, sparkling eyes, you will kill me and have your revenge."

Sunset drew Soteria from across her back, black sword to go with the black everything else that she was wearing. As she gripped the blade in both hands, her whole body trembled. "I don't want revenge," she whispered. "Revenge … revenge won’t bring her back."

Cinder looked down for a moment, an uneasy look passing across her face. "I know," she said, as twin black scimitars appeared in her hands, the obsidian glass weapons forming out of seeming nothingness. "But you know what you must do, what duty and friendship and your wrath demand." She paused for a moment. "The final chapter of our story is at hand, Sunset. Make it a good one."

Sunset shook her head. This didn't happen! How can this be a memory when it didn't happen?!

"Not a memory," Cinder said. "A dream."

It was not the Cinder in Sunset's eye who had spoken, not the Cinder in her slightly fraying garments who had slunk across the Mistralian square for what seemed now to be a battle to the death with Sunset. No, it was another Cinder, a Cinder whose clothes showed no sign of wear and tear, a Cinder whose face was perfectly made up, a Cinder who stood at Sunset's shoulder, just behind her.

The real Cinder.

"Cinder!" Sunset cried, turning to face her, turning her back on the two would-be combatants who bore their names and wore their faces — and turning her back on Pyrrha's statue too, which was perhaps an even greater relief. Nevertheless, though she had turned her back upon them all, she could not so easily forget that they were there; she jerked her head backwards towards the statue and the two people who stood beneath. "'A dream'?" She frowned. "Strange dreams you have, and dark ones."

Cinder chuckled. "Well, perhaps." She paused for a moment. "I'm not entirely sure that I wanted you to see this," she said. "And yet, I no longer have the strength to expel you."

"I'm not surprised," Sunset muttered.

"This is how I wanted it to end," Cinder said, ignoring Sunset's last comment, stepping past her, closer to the Pyrrha's statue. She glanced at Sunset over her shoulder. "In The Mistraliad, Pyrrha kills Juturna, but in the process, she seals her own doom; even up until that point she could have escaped her fate, but in choosing revenge, she chooses also to embrace her destiny."

"You … you wanted me to be your executioner?" Sunset asked incredulously.

"It is not a friend's office, I know," Cinder allowed. "But after I had killed Pyrrha, you wouldn't have been my friend, would you?"

"But you didn't kill her," Sunset pointed out. "You saved her, down in the Vault."

"And I would ask that you remember that," Cinder said. "That you remember me for that, more than … other things that I could mention but would rather not speak of."

"I don't want to remember you," Sunset said. "I mean I don't want to remember you because I don't have to, because you're still around." She took a step forward. "It's like you said, Pyrrha didn't seal her doom until the very last moment, not until she killed Juturna. You haven't … your fate is not fixed yet; your destiny is not settled. You can still walk away. Stop suppressing your aura, let Jaune boost you, let your wound be healed—"

"You shouldn't be here," Cinder said, turning away from Sunset and looking up at the statue of Pyrrha that loomed over them all. "It's too dangerous."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sunset declared. "Not without you. If you want me to leave, then come with me. Come back with me."

Cinder didn't look at her. She kept her back to Sunset as she said, "Come back to what, Sunset? Come back and be healed by Jaune so that I can be put to death in the public sight?"

"No," Sunset said, shaking her head for all that Cinder couldn't see it. "I wouldn't … I won't let that happen."

Cinder sighed. She still didn't look back. "I'm trying to do the right thing, Sunset."

"'The right thing'?" Sunset repeated. "The right thing according to who? Or should I say, the right thing according to what, to some Mistralian upper class b—"

The ground shook beneath Sunset's feet. The square, the houses, all of Mistral trembled around her as a great rumbling louder than any thunderstorm rose up from out of the bowels of the earth. Pyrrha's gilded statue swayed alarmingly upon her marble plinth; the dream Sunset and Cinder were shaken so violently that they were trembled plain out of existence, disappearing from Sunset's sight. Sunset herself was nearly knocked off her feet and had to throw her arms out on either side of her for balance.

"What's going on?" she cried.

Now, Cinder turned to look at her. "You need to go, now!"

"Not without—"

The statue of Pyrrha toppled off the plinth, the emerald eyes seeming to gleam a little less as the immense edifice fell slowly forwards, directly towards Cinder — and it was probably so large it might have landed on Sunset too. Certainly, both of them found it wise to scramble out of the way before the statue hit the ground with a clatter and a clang that was almost as loud as the thunderous rumbling coming from out of the earth, a rumbling that sounded almost like the roaring of some great beast trapped beneath the mountain.

"Did you dream of a grimm beneath Mistral too?" Sunset asked.

"'Dream'?" Cinder murmured. "Dream, no, but—"

The marble plinth exploded, or was shattered into fragments by some great blow delivered from out of Sunset's sight. The white stone broke, shards flying here and there and everywhere, a cloud of dust thrown up that momentarily concealed the figure behind, at least in part, rendering them nothing more than a vague silhouette.

Then they strode through the cloud of dust.

In part, it resembled Cinder herself; it had her height, more or less, and its face upon one side resembled hers, although it had no hair. It had the shape of her body, her curves, the narrowing of her waist, her long legs. Those legs, that skin, her whole body was black, though; blacker than Sunset in her mourning garb, as black as any beowolf or ursa, all black save only for her face, which was as pale as a long-drowned corpse.

As pale as Salem.

And just like Salem, a pair of red eyes burned like fire within that pale face.

Only half of its face was visible, the other half concealed beneath a mask of bleached bone, painted with red lines that did not greatly resemble Adam but which could not but recall him to Sunset's mind nonetheless. Half of its upper body, on the right side, was covered in heavy plates of bone, like a grimm that had decided to concentrate its protection all upon one side: its arm was as thick as a tree trunk and armoured like some ancient crustacean creature; its shoulder, the right side of its chest, it resembled a little pictures of some old Mistralian tournament fighters that had worn a manica on one arm and armour on their right shoulder and covering a part of their chest. Just so this creature, which had concentrated all of its protection in one place, on one side, leaving even half its face unprotected.

The mask of bone that covered one side of its face was fixed, rigid and unmoving, so the thing could only snarl with cold pale lips upon one side of its mouth. "Cinder is mine!"

"But Sunset is not," Cinder declared, seeming to recognise this thing; she stepped between it and Sunset, a glass scimitar appearing in one hand. "She is not yours; you have no claim on her."

The grimm-like creature stared at her for a moment, before the snarl upon its face was replaced by a very Cinder-like smirk of amusement. It slammed its armoured hand down onto the floor of the square in which they stood.

The world collapsed as though it were made of paper, paper torn to shreds as flagstones, walls, doors, all of Mistral came away in rags and patches, collapsing into a dark void that opened up beneath the feet of Sunset and Cinder.

Sunset squawked in alarm as her footing vanished, and she was tumbling head over heels, hair flying around her, tail tickling her legs, falling into darkness with stones and walls and pieces of a Mistral dreamt of flying past like shooting stars.

Cinder was falling too, not tumbling but falling backwards, hair streaming out behind — or in front — of her, arms half-outstretched as though she were tempted to reach for something but at the same time thought better of it.

"Cinder!" Sunset yelled, reaching out to her.

She teleported across the darkness, dodging the falling debris of Cinder's dream that fell around them, stretching out her hand towards her. "Cinder, take my hand!"

Cinder looked at her, face torn between hope and despair, and for a moment, Sunset thought — hoped, for certain — that she would reach out and clasp Sunset's hand and—

Something slammed into her from the sight, knocking her away, sending her cartwheeling through the darkness; she slammed into a falling flagstone and bounced off it to collide with a loose door, a door that opened to let her tumble through it had Sunset not grabbed the frame to hold on by.

The creature had struck her, the grimm, the thing that in parts resembled Cinder and in parts did not; wings had sprouted from its back, black wings like a nevermore's, and it used them to fly through the darkness.

Cinder made no move to resist as it closed its immense, bony hand about her waist and soared off into the darkness.

"No!" Sunset shouted. "Cinder!"

But Cinder was gone. Cinder and the creature that had taken her, both vanished, both disappeared into the blackness.

"Cinder!" Sunset shouted, louder now, shouting to the very limits of her voice, in the hope of some answer from Cinder, some cry that would reveal that she was nearby, if out of sight.

There was no response. Cinder was no longer in this place. That thing — what was it? — had taken her somewhere else within Cinder's mind or soul or whatever amalgamation of the two this was.

But whatever the precise nature of this place, Sunset could move through it just as any monster. She could find Cinder; all she needed to do was … look hard enough, if nothing else. She had found Amber, after all; she could find Cinder too.

Emotional resonance, this was how this place worked. She could find any memory of Cinder's if she could attune herself to the emotion associated with that memory; she could find Cinder if she only willed it so.

Take me to Cinder, Sunset thought, and felt, too, felt with all her heart. I need to go to her, I need to reach her, I need to save her.

The next moment, the dark void was gone, the falling objects gone, all the detritus of Cinder's constructed Mistral vanished. And Sunset was on a train.

Trains I have known, and the bad things that happened to me on board them.

This train was not, thank Celestia, the train from Mountain Glenn on which Sunset had disgraced herself. This train was of a different sort; this train looked very nice, if a little more Atlesian than Sunset might have been expecting. She was on the inside, not the outside, so she couldn't speak for the exterior, but the interior had a sleek look about it, shiny and metallic, with warm blue lights set in the ceiling, and advertising screens set on one wall, each one displaying a flickering image of Pyrrha.

Sunset frowned a little; Pyrrha looked very much like herself, which meant that this was either a recent memory, or else it was another dream of Cinder's.

The image on the displays — on all the displays — flickered for a moment, glitching out before Pyrrha's image was replaced with a picture of Sunset smiling cockily out of every screen.

A dream, then.

The sound of a little girl's laughter drew Sunset's attention, all the more because it was a faintly familiar laugh, albeit not one that she had heard at all often.

Sunset looked away from the screens and ahead of her, to see two people walking down the train corridor: Cinder's father, and running in front of him, Cinder herself.

Cinder, or Ashley as she had been then; Ashley as she had been called, Ashley as she had been. The foolish girl, as Cinder had called her. She did not look foolish, only happy as she skipped and pranced ahead of her father, dressed in a cute little red outfit with a cape that covered most of her upper body and fastened with a bass button at the collar. A red beret sat on her head, and in one hand, she held a candy apple on a stick that was almost as red as her ensemble was. Her father ambled along behind, holding a canvas tote bag lightly in one hand.

Cinder stopped in front of one of the doors that lined the right-hand of the train. Cinder's father took another second to reach it before he fished his scroll out of the breast pocket of his dark grey jacket — he wore a black band around his right arm, and Sunset scarcely needed Cinder's memory to supply the context that this was an indicator of mourning — and used it to open the door.

This was clearly a much better class of train than any that Sunset had been on in the course of her year at Beacon, for on the other side of the door was a full-furnished compartment, complete with bunk beds, a sofa, and a mini fridge, into which Cinder's father began depositing items from his tote bag: sandwiches, fruit juice, a light beer.

This was the kind of train where spies and lovers rendezvoused — or where one of the passengers would turn up dead halfway through the journey. The kind of romantic train that took long journeys through sweeping vistas, like the one that Sunset could see out of the window right now.

She walked into the compartment — it wasn't as though she was going to disturb Ashley and her father, after all — and took a better look out of the window at the view beyond. As she had suspected, they were not only in Anima, but if the mixture of rolling farmland stretching out all around and the mountains looming in the distance were any indication, then this train was bearing them to Mistral.

She knew what this was: when Cinder had been moved to Mistral after her mother's death.

Although those pictures of me and Pyrrha are a bit of an anachronism, aren't they?

Is something interfering with Cinder's memories?

Is Cinder interfering with her own memories?

Sunset looked at her, leaning against the window, letting the rolling fields pass by apace as she regarded the happy girl sitting on the sofa before her.

She had no idea how her life was going to change, and how much for the worse.

Sunset's eyes were drawn towards her father. He couldn't hear her, he couldn't see her, none of this was real, and yet, Sunset was seized with the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him back and forth, to yell 'don't marry that woman! Stay single, for your daughter's sake! Let your wife's memory be your only companion!'

She wondered what would happen if she tried it. Probably, her hands would simply go right through him.

"How much longer until we reach Mistral, Papa?" asked Ashley.

Cinder's father looked around. "Two more days yet, my dear, although we may be able to catch sight of the White Tower out the window before night falls."

Ashley nodded, and her face fell a little.

Cinder's father frowned. "What's the matter?" he asked as he stood up.

Ashley kicked her little legs up and down. "I miss home," she muttered.

The face of Cinder's father fell sympathetically. He sat down on the sofa beside her. "I know," he murmured as he put one arm around her shoulders. "I know that this is difficult. I miss home too. I haven't been back to Mistral in many years."

"Then why are we moving?"

"Because … because I think a fresh start will do us both good," Cinder's father said. "And because I truly believe that you will be very happy in Mistral. It is—"

Sunset turned away and walked out of the carriage. She wasn't in much of a mood to hear Cinder's father tell his little girl all about the glories of old Mistral; not because there weren't any glories but because, knowing what she did, the whole thing would leave a bit of a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

Besides, it wasn't as though she had all the time in the world to soak in Cinder's memories; if she didn't get to Cinder, if she didn't persuade her to let Jaune help boost her aura, then Cinder would die, and all these memories would be lost for good.

The question was, what was Sunset doing on this train, in this memory?

I wanted to be taken to Cinder, and now I'm on a train.

Is the train going to take me to Cinder?

That made a degree of sense. It had a logic to it, and not just dream logic either; it verged on real logic.

Not quite what I had in mind, but okay.

But how? How would the train take her to Cinder? Would it stop somewhere to let Sunset off, and she'd find Cinder waiting for her there? Or should she head towards the front of the train, and she'd find Cinder up there?

Sunset looked out of the window opposite Cinder's compartment. It was beautiful country out there, field after field blossoming with crops ready for the harvest, but there wasn't a station in evidence, and no sign of Mistral, however far away.

And it wasn't as though she could spend two days here in Cinder's memories waiting for this train to reach its destination.

She could either head up to the front of the train, or she could try to get into another of Cinder's memories and hope that the next hop brought her closer to her destination.

I don't want to waste time walking through what's probably a big train for nothing.

But I was brought here for a reason. I didn't end up here randomly.

A screech split the air and interrupted Sunset's thoughts, a screech like the shrieking of a nevermore.

But it was not a nevermore that Sunset could see when she looked out of the window of the train; no, it was the grimm from before, the grimm Cinder or whatever it really was, still with those nevermore-like wings spread out on either side of it, black against the bright blue sky.

The grimm flew swiftly, swooping down and then flitting upwards, disappearing out of sight above the train as it rolled by.

Feathers, dozens of feathers at least, black feathers each as long as a knife, tore through the train ceiling in a barrage that fell all around Sunset, covering the floor all around her, slamming into her, tearing through her aura. Sunset cried out, throwing up her arms to protect her face, then casting a shield around herself, letting even more of the black feathers slam into the green magical barrier, turning to smoke and ashes as soon as they did so.

Sunset looked up as the rain of feathers died down, like a rain passing as the cloud drifts onward. The train roof was full of holes, but it was still difficult to see through; it hadn't been rent so completely that there was simply a hole that she could look up and see her enemy or lack thereof. There were only a great many miniature holes, and Sunset was left to try and work out if she could make out something blocking out the light through some or all of those holes.

She saw the dark shape at the window less than a moment before it slammed through, shattering the glass of the window, tearing through the wall, smashing Sunset's shield as the grimm bodily slammed into Sunset with its armoured shoulder, hurling her backwards into the compartment where Ashley and her father had been.

They were not there now as Sunset hit the far wall, buckling the metal beneath the impact, sending fractures racing up the glass.

The grimm stood before her, its back to the hole in the side of the train that it had made.

Sunset raised her hand and fired several blasts of magic out of her palm, firing them faster than she would have been able to in the waking world, but then this wasn't real, and there weren't any real restrictions that made her choose between power or rate of fire. She hammered the grimm, aiming for the unarmoured part of its body, around the waist, looking to hit it so hard it fell out of the hole in the wall.

It would come back, no doubt, but it would take it a second at least.

The grimm covered itself with its wings as though they were a cloak, shielding itself behind black feathers that soaked up Sunset's magic like rain.

Sunset's eyes narrowed, and she snapped her fingers.

Just as in Amber's mind or soul, the grimm that stood before her was consumed with fire.

In this place, Sunset was much more powerful than she was ordinarily.

Unfortunately, it seemed that whatever this grimm was, it was rather powerful here too; it didn't seem to feel the flames, it didn't cry out in pain, it didn't scream or shriek or thrash wildly to put the fires out. It just stood there, letting the red and gold flames leap up and down its black and partially bone-covered frame, letting them flicker upon flesh and feather and bone alike. It bore the fires without comment, until it took a step forward and stepped out of the flames, which died behind it into a smouldering patch on the floor.

"You can't hurt me," the grimm said in a raspy voice. "This place is mine." It held out one hand, its left hand, the hand that wasn't covered in bone armour, and a red sword appeared in its grasp.

Adam's red sword, looking as red as blood and as hungry as ever.

"But we can hurt you, Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset couldn't take her eyes off that red sword as she scrambled upright. Though she tried to look away, to focus her attention upon the face of her enemy, her eyes kept on being drawn back to that red sword. "How did you—?"

"You left some of yourself behind when you were here last," the grimm declared. "And though you're trying to keep yourself to yourself, parts of you are leaking out even now."

"What are you?" Sunset demanded, before the question began to answer itself inside her mind. She had seen Cinder's attack on Amber; she'd seen it in Amber's own memories when she had revived her: Cinder had used some sort of grimm; it had looked like a bug, but it had turned into … it had fused Cinder and Amber together, forming a conduit for Cinder to steal Amber's magic. That was what had given Amber that scar on her face. Part of it, part of the essence of the grimm, had been left in Amber when the transfer was interrupted; it had been part of what was slowly killing her, until Sunset had killed it instead.

The rest…

"You're the grimm," Sunset said. "You're the grimm that fused with Cinder to attack Amber. You didn't look like the talking type before."

"I've been with Cinder for some time," the grimm explained. "I have adjusted."

"If she dies," Sunset said. "You'll die too, won't you?"

"Destruction is the natural end of all things," the grimm answered. "And besides, she is a traitor and a failure, and she must be punished. I will not let you save her. I will not let you take her from me!"

"And I won't ask your permission," Sunset muttered as she went on the attack.

Pyrrha's weapons were in her hands, summoned by Sunset's thought, and Pyrrha's movements guided her arms and legs as she spun on her toes, hair flying around her, and tossed Akoúo̱ through the air towards the grimm's head. If the distance had been longer, the grimm might have had time to block the shield or otherwise respond, but this close to one another, there wasn't time, and Akoúo̱ slammed into the grimm's head, half striking the bone mask, half the pale, Cinder-like visage. Either way, the grimm recoiled a step closer to the hole in the wall, its head snapping backwards. Sunset advanced as Akoúo̱ bounced back onto her waiting arm. The grimm slashed wildly with Adam's red sword, but Sunset parried the stroke with Miló in sword mode, turning the blade aside before switching to spear mode and thrusting Miló forward towards the grimm's chest. The thrust struck the bony armour of the grimm where it covered one side, but it still had enough force to send the grimm reeling back again; there was a bang and a blast from the spearbutt as Miló extended outwards an extra foot, knocking the grimm backwards so that it teetered on the edge, poised to plummet from the hole it had so recently made for its grand entrance.

Sunset spun in place once more, Miló twirling a red-gold circle in her hand as she cut the grimm's narrow legs out from under it, then hurled Akoúo̱ into its face a second time to knock it clean out of the train and into the air beyond.

The grimm screeched wordlessly, its dark wings spreading out on either side as it soared up over the train once again.

Sunset's imagination conjured Rainbow's wings onto her back, and she could use them without effort as she leapt out of the train herself, the metallic wings unfurling with a sequence of clicks and clanks, the jetpack roaring as mere thoughts guided her upwards and onto the train roof.

The Wings of Harmony disappeared into nothingness, but Sunset's footing on the flat roof of the train remained stable as Distant Thunder appeared in her hands.

She had seen it penetrate more armour than safeguarded this grimm.

Sunset watched the grimm in the skies of Cinder's memory, too black to blend in against this cloudless sky. She raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder and looked — a little awkwardly; she wasn't used to sniper rifles — down the scope towards her target.

She could see it clearly now, through the scope of Ciel's rifle, presenting its unarmoured side towards her.

Sunset pulled the trigger. This Distant Thunder of the mind didn't kick like she suspected the real thing did, but so long as it hit home with the same force.

The grimm parried the shot with Adam's red blade, and then suddenly, it was bearing down upon her, and that sword, that bloody sword, was starting to glow.

Sunset worked the bolt, just as Ciel did, expelling one round and chambering another; she fired again and again and again, and each time, the grimm parried the shot, taking the round with the sword, that dread sword, that awful sword just kept on glowing brighter and brighter.

The wound on Sunset's stomach, the scar that Adam had given her aboard a less well-appointed train than this, began to ache.

Distant Thunder melted away in Sunset's hands as the grimm landed heavily upon the train roof. The visible half of its face wore a triumphant smirk as it drew back the blade.

The world transformed. Cinder's memory, much abused from what it had been already, turned all to red and black, all save for the grimm, which had been mostly black to start with.

The sword glowed an even brighter and a bloodier red as the grimm swept forward, sword drawn back for a slashing stroke that would slice Sunset in half.

The red sword cut forward, slicing through the air, slicing through Sunset, passing out the other side.

As Sunset transformed into a mound of ice that expanded outwards, trapping the grimm's unarmoured arm from the wrist up to beyond the elbow.

The grimm snarled in anger as Sunset descended on it from above, Blake's cleaver gripped tightly in both hands.

She slashed downwards to sever the grimm's arm just below the shoulder.

The grimm turned, smashing through the ice to send shards flying everywhere across the train roof, turning to present its armoured, bone-encrusted arm to Sunset, taking the blow upon it. Blake's cleaver scraped harmlessly off the bone before disappearing from Sunset's hand.

She teleported back a few feet, then grabbed the grimm in the grip of her telekinesis, lifting it up off the ground and holding it in place.

The grimm struggled, it struggled very hard, Sunset could feel it thrashing against her grip, pushing with arms and legs and wings all to break her embrace; she responded by tightening her grip on it, but that didn't stop it from resisting.

But Sunset had more power in this world than in the real one, and she wasn't going to let go just because it really wanted her to.

She would end up letting go when she left here, because she couldn't stay. This train might have taken her to Cinder, but she didn't have time to wait, and she didn't have time to fight this grimm all night. She needed to speed things up. Where would Cinder go?

No, wrong question, Sunset realised as she looked up at the trashing grimm in her telekinetic embrace. The question was, where had it taken her?

Sunset looked up into the grimm's eyes, into the red eyes that burned in that pallid face and in that painted mask, and she knew, she knew where Cinder was.

The pantry of the Kommenos house was dark; it was the dead of night, after all, and the lady of the house was asleep upstairs, along with one of her daughters.

Her other daughter was prowling about the pantry, Phoebe Kommenos all clad in her armour. Except it wasn't the Phoebe that Sunset remembered from the last time she'd been inside Cinder's soul and seen this memory, no; this was the Phoebe that she had known at Beacon; Phoebe was grown. Phoebe as she had died, for she would not live to be old now.

Phoebe was grown up, but she still acted as she had done in Cinder's memory of that awful night, prowling through the kitchen, chanting that ditty as she searched for Cinder, drawn inexorably towards the cupboard where Sunset knew that Cinder was hiding.

"Cinder?" Sunset murmured, feeling as though she should be quiet, even though there was no reason why she should be. "Cinder, are you there?" She had been certain that this was where Cinder would be, cast into her worst memory, forced to observe her torment, but there was no sign of her here. Sunset wondered if she might be hiding in the dark, hoping to avoid seeing what was happening, but even with her nightvision spell on, Sunset couldn't find her anywhere.

The only person here was Phoebe as she slunk like a cat towards Cinder's cupboard.

Phoebe flung open the door, and there was Cinder, not the child, but the girl grown, Cinder as Sunset knew her, the same Cinder who had been carried away.

This was where the grimm had left her, not forced to watch, forced to experience, forced to relive in her last moments as her life blood ebbed away.

"Close your eyes, don't look up," Phoebe whispered. "Here comes a monster to gobble you up."

Cinder cried out as Phoebe laid her hands upon her, dragging her out of the cupboard, ignoring Cinder's fists upon her, her kicking feet; Cinder's blows should have sent her flying across the room, but instead, Phoebe didn't seem to feel them at all, as though Cinder were nothing more than an infant compared to her. She hauled Cinder out onto the floor and—

"That's enough!" Sunset snapped.

They both stopped. Cinder looked at her with amber eyes wide with surprise. Phoebe looked at her too, though in her face, there was more confusion than anything else.

"Sunset Shimmer," she growled.

"Everyone knows who I am around here," Sunset muttered. Her voice rose as she said, "Leave her alone."

Phoebe laughed that annoying simpering laugh as she straightened up. "Are you going to make me, Sunset? Are you going to take a stand on behalf of this—?"

Sunset rolled her eyes as she fired a bolt of magic at her.

Phoebe might have been Cinder's nightmare, and in Cinder's nightmare, that fear might have made her strong, inviolate, invincible in ways that she had never been in life, but she certainly wasn't Sunset's nightmare; as far as Sunset was concerned, Phoebe Kommenos had just been an entitled no mark who knew that she wasn't nearly as good as she wanted to be; that was why she'd paid someone to face Sunset on her behalf instead of doing it herself. Sunset was not afraid of her, and her magical blast struck Phoebe square in the chest and shattered her like glass.

For a moment, it seemed like the pieces, the million shards of Phoebe, would rain down upon Cinder from above, but instead, they disappeared ere they had begun to fall, vanishing as if they and she had never been.

There was no stirring from above; there was only Cinder, and Sunset, alone in the pantry.

For a moment, there was silence. Cinder lay on the floor, staring up at Sunset.

When she spoke, it was only to whisper, "Sunset?"

Sunset smiled. "Who else?"

Cinder didn't smile; instead, she rolled over onto her other side, her back to Sunset. "You shouldn't be here," she muttered.

Sunset put her hands on her hips. "Why not? Should I leave you alone so you can die in peace?" She cast her eyes across the kitchen, her gaze alighting upon a Pyrrha figure sitting on the kitchen table. "Can I just ask, what's with all the Pyrrha stuff? She didn't look like that when you were young, and I can't imagine Phoebe had her merchandise in the house."

"I'm trying to leave her the Maiden powers, you idiot!" Cinder snapped, half rolling over so that she could glare at Sunset as she said it. "I'm trying to keep Pyrrha in my mind so that the magic will transfer to her when I…" She turned away once more. "Now, if you don't mind, you're disturbing my concentration."

"How much concentrating were you getting done a moment ago?" Sunset asked.

Cinder was silent for a moment. "I'm very grateful," she said. "But nevertheless … you can't stay here. It isn't safe. And I won't be able to think about Pyrrha while you're hanging around."

Sunset ignored her. She walked around Cinder, crouching down so that she was closer to Cinder's level as she lay on the floor. That still left Sunset somewhat above Cinder, looking down on her, so Sunset got down on her side, lying opposite Cinder, face to face as though they were two best friends at a slumber party, about to share the secrets of which boys they liked.

Or whatever girls talked about at slumber parties; nobody had ever invited Sunset.

Cinder looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and bemusement in her expression but not, thankfully, any irritation that Sunset couldn't make out. Her brow wasn't even furrowed.

"So that's why you asked about Amber earlier," Sunset said. "You wanted to know who the next in line to be Fall Maiden was." She paused for a moment. "Why do you care about making sure that Pyrrha gets the magic?"

"I'm trying to do the right thing," Cinder murmured. "I stole this power. I wasn't supposed to have it. And I certainly wouldn't be allowed to keep it. I can't."

"I'm not sure how important the Fall Maiden is anymore, now that the Relic is gone," Sunset replied softly. "And I'm not sure I want Pyrrha to have this power. I'm not sure I want her to have the burden that comes with it."

"Will the burden be so great, now that the Relic is gone?" asked Cinder. "Pyrrha will not be hunted, not the way that Amber was hunted. Salem has no need of the Fall Maiden now, except in the sense that a Maiden and its magic is a good and useful thing to have in one’s possession, to send into battle against the other Maidens whose powers are still required."

"Oh, yeah, that sounds like a life of ease," Sunset muttered sarcastically.

Cinder snorted. "Does Pyrrha want it?"

Sunset hesitated. "I don't—"

"Be honest," Cinder urged.

Sunset huffed. "Yes. Yes, I think she does. I think she'd take it, if it was offered. She wants to feel—"

"Special—"

"Useful," Sunset corrected.

Cinder was silent for a second or two. "It's not my power," she said. "It's not my power, and I don't want it. This is … this is me being virtuous. Some little good I mean to do before the end, for you and yours whom I have … to whom I have done ill in the past. This is … call it my apology gift."

Now, it was Sunset's turn to momentarily fall silent. "I thought this was just Mistralian nonsense," she confessed.

Cinder gave a close-mouthed smile, the corners of her lips turning upwards. "Well," she said. "That too. When the Emperor Odysseus was defeated at the Battle of Four Sovereigns—"

"He surrendered," Sunset pointed out. "He gave up his crown!"

"And was taken to the island of Vytal to sign the treaty that would end the war," Cinder went on. "After he had signed, he retired to his room and asked for a pen, paper, and a glass of water. He wrote two letters, one to his wife and one to his last surviving son. Then he stabbed himself in the neck with the pen; he was found dead the next morning."

"A dear happiness to his son, I'm sure," Sunset muttered dryly. "A dead father to go along with a raft of dead brothers and a dead sister too, but, oh, it was so noble, so brave, he must have been overjoyed to be blessed with so admirable a paragon to look up to. In spirit, of course, since he was no longer to be looked up to in person."

"You sound like Emerald," Cinder said.

"Then Emerald sounds very sensible," Sunset replied.

The smile returned to Cinder's face, a little diminished from what it had been before. "This is the right thing to do," she said softly.

"Some people would say that leaving Pyrrha down in the Vault so you could stop Salem getting the Relic would have been the right thing to do," Sunset pointed out. "There are a lot of possible right things, depending on who you ask and how you look at things."

"Alright then this is a right thing to do," Cinder said. "It is the right thing to do that I choose … to do."

Sunset frowned. "If … if you weren't the Fall Maiden," she said. "If you didn't have this magic that you wanted to be rid of, would you still want this?"

The ground began to rumble and shake once more, the whole house shuddering, the pots and pans upon the wall rattling and clanging together; the walls groaned and the wind outside howled.

Sunset scowled. So, it’s like that, is it?

She leapt to her feet with the sort of athletic grace that she never would have mustered in the real world, and as the grimm descended through the ceiling, she had already conjured up a shield around herself and Cinder to protect them both from the storm of feathers that shot from its wings.

The grimm landed upon her shield feet first, pounding down upon the green barrier with its thick, armoured fist. Cracks appeared in the magic as Sunset was driven to her knees.

The grimm raised its fist again.

Sunset let the shield explode outwards, the shockwave scattering the furniture around the room and tossing the grimm backwards, slamming it into the far wall hard enough to shatter plaster.

The grimm was on its feet in less than a moment, the visible part of its face scowling and snarling.

“She. Is. Mine!”

“No!” Sunset snapped. “No, she isn’t. Not anymore.”

The grimm’s red eyes flashed, and it bared its teeth at her as it pointed that red sword, Adam’s sword, straight for her heart.

Sunset grinned as her hand glowed green with telekinesis, yanking the sword out of the grimm’s black hand and carrying it through the pantry into Sunset’s outstretched grasp.

Sunset glanced down at it. This sword had been the stuff of her nightmares, a fearsome sword in the hands of a fearsome man. This sword had wounded her, this sword had almost killed Ruby, this sword had haunted her even after Adam’s death.

This sword was terror incarnate, and yet, it was also a blade that she had dreamed of possessing. She had wanted this moment, in the real world, wide awake; she had planned for the day when she would lay Adam low and take his blade as a trophy of her victory, indisputable proof of her triumph over him.

She had meant not only to kill him but to humiliate him from beyond the grave, and flaunt the deed to all the world.

The actual manner of her victory, if it deserved the name, had rather put her off the idea; she didn’t know where the real sword was now, but in this place, at this moment, her old desire was at last fulfilled.

The smile remained on Sunset’s face as she looked back up from the sword and into the dead face of the grimm.

“You told me that I couldn’t hurt you,” Sunset said, as the red sword began to glow in her hands. She swept the red blade back, poised to strike as its glow became brighter and brighter, more and more vividly red until it was the brightest light in this pantry by far. “But I believe that this sword can cut through anything,” she tightened her grip on the sword. “So why don’t we see who’s right?”

Sunset charged, not giving the grimm a chance to answer. She charged, and as she charged, she felt the power of this sword, the power as she imagined it, the power that had terrified and wounded her, erupt from out of the blood red blade.

The world turned red. Only the grimm was as black as ever, blacker still, for even its white bone was black now, black against the blood red that the world had become. Sunset felt herself moving slowly, as though she were trapped in treacle, but if it were so, then the grimm was trapped there too, moving even more sluggishly than she was.

Slowly, achingly slowly, the grimm brought up its bone-armoured arm to defend itself.

Just as seeming-slowly, Sunset closed the distance, bringing the red sword upwards in a diagonal slashing stroke.

It pierced the armour of bleached bone, it cut through black flesh and dark feathers, it sliced clean through the grimm as though it were made of mist or fog.

And then the colours, what little colour remained in the world, began to return to normal as Sunset emerged on the other side of the bisected grimm, the grimm that was turning to smoke and ashes behind her.

Sunset glanced down at the sword from which all light was gone. That had taken too long; that sloth, it … it seemed as though it was intended to give the bearer of the blade time to appreciate, to savour, the shock of his intended target, their fear, their helplessness.

Sunset was left feeling that it was a good thing she had left the sword under Mountain Glenn. She wanted no part in such a weapon.

It had served its purpose, and now, it disappeared, dismissed by her mind, never to return.

Sunset turned back to Cinder, who was sitting up on the floor, looking at her.

"Show off."

"You're welcome," Sunset muttered as she walked back across a kitchen now strewn untidily with broken furniture. She stepped over a broken chair before standing over Cinder. She held out one hand to her. "Come back with me."

Cinder looked away from her. "You are cruel to tempt me." She looked up. "I cannot. You know I cannot; I have explained—"

"But if you could," Sunset insisted. "If you could, you never answered my question: if you didn't have the Maiden powers, if the Fall Maiden was not at issue, then would you … would you come back? Would you live?" She paused. "You're free of the grimm now, it's gone; the corruption that Salem—"

"I did that to myself; nobody compelled me," Cinder pointed out mildly.

"Either way," Sunset went on quickly. "It's gone now, dead and gone, and … if you came back, if you lived, if you stopped suppressing your own aura while your life blood ebbs away, then you could feel all that was lost to you. You could … you could taste ice cream, burn your tongue with a too-hot coffee — and you probably would, from not knowing any better at first." She smiled hopefully down at her. Sunset crouched; with Cinder sitting, this alone was enough to put them on something like a level. "All things that have been lost, you can reclaim, both small things and the larger too, if you wish. So do you? Is it to rid yourself of the Maiden powers that brings you to this point, or is it something else? Do you truly desire to find out what, if anything, lies in the life to come?"

Cinder looked at her silently for a moment. "What do you think is there?"

"Nothing," Sunset said at once.

"Comforting," Cinder murmured. She paused. "Whether it is as bleak as you propose or whether my soul will flee in sorrow down to the shades in Erech's dominion or aught else, I … if I were not the Fall Maiden, if I did not have this magic that was not mine … I will not live only to be caged and put to death at someone else's pleasure. I will not. I would rather choose the time and place of my own passing."

"That won't happen," Sunset told her. "I won't let that happen."

Cinder snorted. "You condemn me to prison one day and promise the next that you will not suffer it a second time?"

"Considering what happened the first time," Sunset murmured, shifting her shoulders uncomfortably. "That was … I offered you once before my help, my aid; I do so again now, if you will only take it."

"In your world?"

"Or in this," Sunset said. "There is less reason not to stay here; you're free of the grimm now; there's nothing more that Equestrian magic could do for you."

Cinder nodded slightly. "This … it is fun being alive in the same world as you, and at the same time," she admitted. "But this is philosophical discourse: if you could, if you weren't, would you then? I cannot, I am, I must. I am the Fall Maiden, and unless you have some power in your bag of tricks that will let you whisk that magic away from me, which I doubt, then the only way for me to be rid of it … the only way for me to give back what I stole and in the giving … one cannot be pardoned and retain the offence." She closed her eyes. "I am grateful that you have freed me from that darkness, and for all your other kindnesses and good services in the time that we have known one another. You have been more true to me than I have deserved, and I am sorry that I must refuse you a second time, but … honour pricks me on."

"Honour pricks you off, you mean," Sunset replied. "Ere you have a chance to come on absent all your chains."

The corners of Cinder's lips twitched upwards. "Either way," she allowed. "In this, my mind is set, Sunset, and my will is armour proof even against your inducements."

"Because you are the Fall Maiden?" Sunset asked.

"Yes," Cinder answered. "Because the Red Queen would lay aside her bloody crown, whatever the consequence."

Sunset nodded. "Very well," she whispered. "I wish I could say that I admire your courage, but … I know that I should admire it, that if I were a Mistralian, I doubtless would admire it, but to be frank, the more I learn about Mistralian culture, the more I am reminded that it is not my culture, that I am an alien and a stranger to it, that much though I might admire the beauty of its shining towers—"

"It will never be your home," Cinder finished for her.

"I think not," Sunset agreed. "Nevertheless, if you are set in this, then … very well. I shall say no more." She got up. "But why don't we go somewhere more comfortable than this?"

Cinder's eyebrows rose. "Go? Go … together?"

Sunset shrugged. "You didn't think I was just going to leave you alone to sit here while the dark closed in around you, did you?"

Cinder blinked rapidly. "Yes," she said bluntly. "Yes, I rather thought you might because you must. You must go, Sunset, you can't stay here, I'm dying. I'm dying, and this place … this place will disappear, and I will depart, and you … do you know what will happen to you if you're still here when the lights go out?"

"No," Sunset confessed.

"Neither do I, but I can't imagine it’s pleasant," Cinder murmured. Her voice rose as she went on, "Not to mention the fact that I won't be able to think of Pyrrha with you around."

"Why, thank you."

"Sunset," Cinder said firmly. "I am in earnest."

"So am I," Sunset told her. In earnest, and in cunning too, I hope. "I won't leave you. And do you really want to die alone? Are you going to sit here and tell me that?"

Cinder was silent for a moment, and then a moment more. "I would be glad of your company—"

"Then you shall have it."

"But—"

"No buts," Sunset insisted. "No protestations; this is my price for ceasing to badger you upon your choice."

Once more, Cinder hesitated. Then she quirked one eyebrow upwards. "Somewhere more comfortable, you say?" She smiled, and held out one hand. "Where did you have in mind?"

Sunset's fingers closed around Cinder's hand, and then in a thought, they were in the A & P ice cream café.

Another Sunset, and another Cinder, were just coming in through the door; Sunset was carrying a bag slung over her shoulder with the books that they might need for their assignment. Cinder carried very little by comparison.

"I question why we're here," the other Cinder, the Cinder of memory, said as they walked in.

"Here?" asked Cinder, present Cinder, the real Cinder, as she looked around. "This place."

"It's more comfortable than Lady Kommenos's kitchen, don't you think?" asked Sunset. "And besides, we had a good time here, didn't we?"

Cinder glanced at her. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I think we did." She looked around the café, and the interior wall with its painting of the Valish skyline in silhouette was instantly covered with a raft of posters of Pyrrha, posters that looked almost but not quite like official Vytal tournament posters. Whether that was because Cinder couldn't remember them quite right or she was intentionally making changes, Sunset couldn't have said.

She wasn't sure it really mattered.

Telekinetically, she pushed out a couple of chairs at a table directly under one of the Pyrrha posters, so that she was looking down on them almost as the statue had in Cinder's dream when Sunset had first entered her mind.

Cinder sat down, her hands resting lightly upon the table top. Sunset did likewise.

She couldn't help but glance over Cinder's shoulder at the other them, the memories of them, where they sat near the window. She watched as the other Sunset approached the counter to order.

Cinder followed Sunset's gaze, though with her back to the memories, she had to twist around in her seat to do it.

"You know," she said, "with the benefit of hindsight, I really wasn't being very subtle, was I?"

"Hmm?" Sunset asked.

"The Infinite Man," Cinder explained. "Talking about the Circle and the parallels with Beacon and Atlas, my whole manner. I might as well have been daring you to notice that I was more than what I seemed, that I had ulterior motives and dark intentions."

"You were too subtle for me," Sunset said.

"Yes, well," Cinder murmured. "There are some responses that I could give you to that, but you've been very good to me, so I'll refrain."

"I appreciate that," Sunset muttered. "In my defence, if you didn't already know about Salem and all the rest, who would suspect that there would be enemies within the school, infiltrators, people seeking to bring it down? To what end?"

"I'm sure someone could think of a reason," Cinder answered. "But I take your point; you had no cause to suspect that I was other than I appeared to be." She paused. "I was in part what I appeared to be; this wasn't a lie. There were lies told, I own that, but … the mask I wore did not prevent you seeing my face, or part of it, at least."

"I know," Sunset told her. "If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't—"

The lights went out. The daylight outside the window of the café turned pitch black, not to night but to black, as though this was a stage set and all the lights had been turned off and backgrounds dismantled and they were done for the day.

The other Sunset and Cinder, of memory, had disappeared. A & P was dark too; Sunset could barely see Cinder sitting on the other side of the table from her.

"Cinder?" Sunset asked, softly, gently, warily; fearfully, for all that she could guess what was happening.

"Cold," Cinder whispered. "So cold and…" Her words trailed off, but her breathing could still be heard; shallow breaths, coming faster and faster.

"I'm here," Sunset said, reaching across the table, placing a hand on top of Cinder's. "I'm right here, Cinder; I'm not going anywhere."

Cinder looked for a moment as though she wished Sunset would, but she didn't ask Sunset to go, she didn't make any gesture that indicated that she should, and the look that Sunset had seen in her eyes for a moment swiftly disappeared. Cinder tried to look away, towards the poster of Pyrrha on the … the poster that had been on the wall but was gone now. Along with the wall itself. They were sitting not only in the dark, but increasingly, it felt like they were sitting in a void. Sunset wondered how long it would be until the floor itself gave way beneath them.

She clasped Cinder's hand about the wrist, because if she let go of her, then this would all be for nothing.

Cinder toppled forwards, falling off her seat. Sunset rose, or rather launched herself off her chair; she ended up on her knees, catching Cinder as she fell, wrapping her arms around, pressing her head into Cinder's shoulder.

"It's okay," she whispered, as though there was anything in the darkness that she should fear to hear them. "It's okay, Cinder, I'm here, I've got you."

Cinder didn't speak. She made a wordless sound, too faint to make out except that it was a sound. She tried to put her arms around Sunset in turn; Sunset could feel a hand upon her back, but its touch was faint, so faint.

And then it fell away, both her hands falling down to her sides, hanging listlessly, knuckles scraping on the ground.

Except there was no ground. As Cinder's head lolled, the last vestige of the ice cream café disappeared, and once more, Sunset was falling through a dark void.

But this time, she had hold of Cinder, and she kept a hold of Cinder as they fell, gently turning, through the darkness.

Cinder made a sound, a sound maybe like a sob or a gasp, the last gasp as the spirit flees, and Sunset … Sunset's eyes were beginning to grow a little heavy, her eyelids drooping, but she could see a light, a light coming from close by, a light coming from Cinder, from out of her eyes and her mouth, pushing up out of her chest up between Sunset and Cinder like water finding cracks in a wall golden light emerging out of her. For a moment, it hovered gently above the two of them as they fell, ribbons of light dancing in place, swirling around one another.

Then they dove down through the darkness towards Sunset.

Well, that didn't go as— Sunset's thoughts were interrupted as the ribbons of light struck her, blinding her eyes, stuffing her mouth, dancing through the cracks once more to enter her chest like an arrow to the heart. Sunset's body jerked, her back contorted; it was all that she could do to keep her grip on Cinder as she fought the urge to throw her arms on either side of her.

She didn't. She kept hold of Cinder as they floated lazily through the black and empty void, although it wasn't darkness in front of Sunset's eyes now; it was light, blinding light, pure light.

Light and faces. She could see Amber; she could see countless other faces flying past her, surrounding her; she could feel pride and hope and love and fear and hate. She could feel pain. She could feel so much pain. But so much kindness too.

She could see a girl, a girl who looked just like the statue in the Vault when Amber had shown them.

"My name is Fall," she said. "I am on a journey, and I am here to meet with my sisters."

She could see Cinder, standing in front of her with her arms folded across her chest.

"You know, if you wanted me to leave you the magic, then you could have just asked," she said.

"I don't want to be the Fall Maiden," Sunset said.

"Nevertheless, you appear to have become just that," Cinder pointed out.

"Trust me," Sunset urged. "This is all part of the plan."

Cinder raised one sceptical eyebrow.

"This is mostly part of the plan," Sunset corrected herself. "Just … trust me, okay? I think I know what I'm doing."

And then the light was gone, and Cinder with it; at least, a Cinder was gone; Cinder was still there, still in Sunset's arms, still falling with her.

But Sunset's arms were growing colder. The longer they fell, the deeper they fell, the weaker that Sunset felt. It was so cold in here, as cold as the Atlesian ice fields; well, maybe not that cold, but it was pretty cold all the same. Cold, cold, her limbs were dissolving in cold.

The limbs of Juturna were dissolved in cold, and her soul fled in anger down to the shades.

Was that where they were going? Was there something waiting for them after all?

If there was, then Sunset didn't expect to see it. She could barely keep her eyes open. She felt cold. Cold and weary. Her head nodded forwards, and she started with a jerk every time she almost fell asleep but did not. Saliva gathered in her mouth and threatened to drip down her chin, and the fact that there was no one around to see it didn't make it any less disgusting.

But really, what was she staying awake for? What was she fighting to keep her eyes open for? Hadn't this been part … part of … hadn't she…?

Pyrrha. I have to think about Pyrrha.

I have to manage this. I can't mess this up.

Sunset filled her head with thoughts of Pyrrha; Pyrrha fighting in the school amphitheatre — Sunset didn't think about who she was fighting, just Pyrrha's own displays of skill and athleticism — Pyrrha sitting on the roof with her after their fight, Pyrrha in some of her beautiful dresses, Pyrrha, Pyrrha.

Pyrrha asleep, where Sunset ought to be. Pyrrha curled up before the fire, where Sunset would like to be. Pyrrha warm and awake, while Sunset felt so cold and so very tired.

Sunset's eyes closed, and her head nodded lazily forward, until it was resting upon Cinder's shoulder, just as Cinder's shoulder was resting upon hers.

Her dark eyes saw no light.

And then, all of a sudden, there was whiteness once again.

A white void, and Pyrrha.

Pyrrha looked around, brow furrowed with confusion. "Hello? Jaune? Penny? Is anyone—?" She made a gasping squeaking sound when she saw Sunset. "Sunset? What… how … you were … what's going on?"

"You might call it destiny," Sunset said. "Or you might not, since you haven't been as active about this as your definition might require … to be truthful, I'm not altogether certain if my people would call it destiny either, but they might. Someone would, I'm sure. Professor Ozpin, perhaps; I'm not sure what his views were on the subject, if he had any."

Pyrrha blinked. "I don't understand."

"You're the Fall Maiden now, I'm pretty sure," Sunset said. "Congratulations. Although some commiserations may be in order too. Not too many, I hope."

Pyrrha stared at her, mouth agape. She took a step forward, then seemed to think better of it and take a step back. She looked down at her hand, then looked at Sunset. "I … what does this mean? Are you—?"

"Well," Sunset said. "I was hoping that Jaune would get this, but since you're here, I'll tell you to be sure: I need Jaune to leave Cinder alone and start boosting my aura right now."

"Yours?"

"Yes, mine," Sunset said. "Don't worry about Cinder; she … I've got this figured out, but I need Jaune's help, do you understand?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I do." She shook her head. "Well, not really, but I will convey your message faithfully."

"Thank you," Sunset said. "I'm counting on you."

We both are.

And then the white was gone, and Pyrrha was gone, and there was only darkness.

Darkness, and something within the darkness. There was a sound like running water, like a river flowing by, perhaps, a river that Sunset couldn't see. She couldn't see much of anything, just … it took a moment to realise what it was. A gate. A gate of ivory, luminous in the dark, a white archway fashioned out of two enormous tusks tied together at the top, adorned here and there with bands of gold and with some darker things besides, bonds hanging from the ivory on thin, tense strings.

The gate grew larger. Sunset and Cinder were falling towards it, being drawn towards it, being pulled in like bits of food scrubbed from the plate during the washing up, slowly circling the drain, drawn inexorably down towards the plughole.

The gate grew close and closer, and what might wait upon the other side?

But then there was light within the darkness, light coming from behind them. Golden light. A hand of gold, a fisherman's net of gold, an all-encompassing blanket of gold, golden light rushing downwards through the darkness to wrap around Sunset.

It draped across her shoulders, it covered her legs, her arms, her body, and as she was embracing Cinder, so the golden light embraced her too, lapping at the edges of Cinder's red dress, washing up and down her shoulders.

It felt warm. It felt warm, and it felt like gentle raindrops pattering upon her; it felt like a refreshing shower after a long day, this light, these sunbeams dancing over her.

Sunset herself pulled up by the light. She rose, and Cinder rose in her embrace, the two of them rising together, the gate of ivory growing smaller and smaller in Sunset's eyes, fading from view, just as the darkness itself began to fade as they rose, driven off by this golden light.

Sunset Shimmer opened her eyes, gasping for breath.

She was lying on the grass on the cliffs at Beacon. She heard someone gasp and then cry out in joy.

Penny. That had been Penny's voice, she was sure of it.

Cinder lay next to her. Sunset's hand was still upon her cheek, and the light of Jaune's semblance was covering not only Sunset but washing through her arm and hand across Cinder's face and down her body also.

Cinder's eyes flickered open.

Sunset sighed with relief; she would have sagged with relief if that had been possible while lying on her side. "Hey," she whispered.

Cinder frowned. "I … this doesn't look like the world of the shades."

"No," Sunset said. "No, I don't believe it is."

Cinder tried to sit up, only for a cry of pain to tear from her lips.

"Gently," Jaune said. "Maybe give your aura a little time to heal your injury first."

Cinder looked down to see the wound that she had made in her own abdomen, the blood staining her dress. "Ah, yes," she murmured. "Yes, that…" Her words dissolved into a moaning sigh as she flopped down onto the ground on her back once again.

"Welcome back," Sunset said.

Cinder glanced at her. "It's gone."

"The magic?" Sunset asked.

Cinder nodded. "I don't feel it anymore." She hesitated. "You—"

"No," Sunset said. "Not me." She looked upwards, turning her head and her eyes towards Pyrrha, where she stood over them.

She stood over them as her statue had, as her poster had looked down on them in the café — almost, at least; neither statue nor poster had required help to stand — and around both her eyes burned bright red flaming corona.

The corona of the Fall Maiden.

Author's Note

Woohoo!

Over one million words and fifteen months after I started and the first half (I use the word half rather loosely, I have no idea how long the next bit will turn out to be, just that this is the end of a distinct section of the story) of this fic is done!

When I started this, driven by little more than a desire to write a fic where Pyrrha didn’t die, I had no idea that this was going to turn into both the longest thing that I had ever written but also, in my opinion, the best thing that I’ve written to date.

Thank you all for sticking with me this far. I know that I haven’t always pleased all of you, but I’d like to think that I’ve pleased most of you most of the time.

I don’t intend to stop writing this story, however I do intend to slow down a little at this point. I’ve been writing this near-exclusively for the last year, and I don’t want to keep up with that, so expect the writing speed to slow down from 1-2 chapters a week to something more like 1 chapter every 2 weeks to allow me to spend some time on other things besides this.

Thank you, once again.

Rewrite Notes: Wow, looking at this author's note brings back some nostalgia.

In terms of changes... a lot has changed here, including the chapter title, mostly because the whole thing has been rewritten.

The biggest change that I regret is losing the Friendship Games rip-off ending with Sunset becoming Daydream Shimmer, but a) it was a rip-off of the climax of Friendship Games and b) I'm not sure it made a ton of sense even the first time, although doubtless it was viscerally satisfying.

Something that I quite like here is the way that this puts a cap on Sunset's story as well as Cinder's, as she overcomes her vestigial fear of Adam and, in fact, turns that fear against her enemy to save Cinder.

I also like that this version of the chapter has a lot more grounding in the relationship that Sunset and Cinder have had throughout the story, culminating in returning to the scene of their ~~first date~~ study session before they both 'die'.

Hopefully you remember a few chapters back, in Ozpin's Stand, Ozpin remembers a previous Maiden who drowned herself but was revived by a knight, thus passing the Maiden powers on. That was set up for this moment, as a way of transferring the powers away from Cinder. It's very similar to the end of Season 1 of Buffy, except that you can't game the Maiden powers into having two Fall Maidens.

When I wrote the original version of this chapter I was not at all sure who would end up with the Fall Maiden powers; I seriously considered having Sunset keep them, since she was the embodiment of choice in the story and Fall is associated with Choice. The decision to bestow them on Pyrrha instead in the wake of a degree of backlash meant that the execution was a bit shoddy but here, with the intent much clearer, it all flows much better I think (or hope).

Unlike previously, this isn't quite the end, there are 1 or 2 chapters left to come going up Friday and maybe Monday.