8 Curses and Blessings

Ozpin directed us away from the other Huntsmen and teams. We sit, gathered in an isolated section of woods, in disbelief and denial of his outlandish story. I was planning on interrupting him to announce my leave, but I just couldn't stop listening.

"So this is why you asked me to gather us yesterday?" Summer interrogates Ozpin, devoid of the usual warmth in her voice. "Sorry, Professor—but is this a joke?"

"I wish it were, Miss Rose. Unfortunately," he begins, "everything..."

"They're dead, Professor." Summer interrupts, not allowing him to finish. She turns to the clearing behind us.

In the distant black, the scorpion husks challenge any sense of life. The ground is reddened with memories of wishful futures, never to be realized. Summer's eyes seem to bid her fallen friends farewell before returning to Ozpin.

"They're gone. For what reason?" She asks with scorn and sorrow.

She doesn't hide the thorns in her voice. "If you knew she was sending this many Grimm to Patch, why didn't you tell the rest of the camp? I understand what you're saying, Professor. And I'm eventually going to believe you. But right now, I will not accept." She stands and distances herself from the group.

"Professor." Taiyang stands as well. "If what you're saying is true, then what's so special about Patch? Why exactly are we here?"

Ozpin sighs, and his shoulders sink as he looks up at Taiyang. "Therein lies the problem, Mister Xiao Long. There is absolutely nothing special about Patch."

Breaking his usual silence, my brother speaks up. "Then how did you even know to come here? Enough of these games. Get to the point."

Ozpin straightens his posture, returning Qrow's glare with collected composure. "I didn't know. Unfortunately, this tragedy was unforeseen. Operations in Patch were solely intended to weaken the presence of Grimm. But make no mistake; this was a directed attack. My reasons for gathering you four, however, are entirely unrelated." Despite his position in this conversation, he speaks with command and conviction in his tone. It makes me sick.

"And I am truly sorry for what I am about to say. Miss Rose. Mister Branwen." Ozpin says, as Summer rejoins us with hollow steps. Taiyang returns to his seated position beside me. "But the harsh reality is that there is no reason for the deaths of your friends."

Summer's eyes narrow at his blunt decree.

Taiyang grabs my hand, reminding me that I was almost one of those pointless deaths. That is, until Summer nearly took my place. This is the only warmth I've felt since I left the camp, and I'll accept it. The only thanks I can return is to hold off on abandoning him for just a little longer.

"How can you even say that!?" Summer shouts.

Qrow places a hand on her trembling shoulders. "Hey. Cool it a second." He turns to Ozpin. "I get it. You're trying to tell us that this is just how our enemy's like, huh? This evil overlord you mentioned. Killing for the sake of killing." Ozpin nods. My brother accepts killing for survival, but not much more. This exact sentimentality is why he wasn't chosen to be the successor.

Qrow resumes Summer's interrogation. "Then I'm going to ask you the same question. Why didn't you tell the rest of the camp? Why isn't this common knowledge among the Huntsmen?"

"Because it's suicide to do so. Isn't that right, Ozpin?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Though I wish I could deny you, your deduction is correct, Miss Branwen." His eyes turn to the rest of Team STRQ. "Let me ask you all: Do you recall the nature of Grimm?"

Silence befalls us as they realize the motive behind Ozpin's discretion. Grimm are drawn to concentrated negativity—they sense and seek it. This supposed witch wouldn't need to direct Grimm if the world's heroes admitted how futile our efforts truly are. The widespread fear and anger would be humanity's downfall. Impossibly overwhelming swarms of Grimm would end civilization as we know it.

The current illusion of peace and stability is a delicate balance between life and utter destruction. We live a cursed life. People seem to forget that the Grimm control most of the world.

"I'll say it again, Professor," Summer answers sternly, "I understand. But today, I'm not taking this as an answer."

"I apologize, Miss Rose. I will not ask for your forgiveness, nor do I deserve it, but I truly did not know the severity of the situation until I arrived with Raven." Summer lowers her eyes at his answer and retreats behind her white hood, silently defeated by her fatal flaw. She is simply too kind and understanding.

Still, she speaks. "Then, like Qrow said—get to the point. Why are you telling us this? If there's nothing special about Patch, then what's special about Team STRQ?"

Ozpin's commanding presence returns. "As you may have guessed, only a select few know of this carefully kept secret. But rest assured, there is more to the story—more that just so happens to be in our favor. Among the many curses with which humanity has been burdened, there exist 'gifts' passed down to give us hope."

Everyone welcomes the change in tone with combined attention. I've had enough defeatism for one day.

"I have come to grant your team a touch of these said blessings." And he stands, cane drawn at his side. "Not just anyone can receive them, however. A certain compatibility is necessary; you must have an affinity to your own natural gift."

We exchange glances with each other, and our curiosity temporarily distracts us from the lunacy Ozpin implies. Is he pretending to be some kind of magician?

Taiyang questions first. "What do you mean? Is this a weapon? Or something to do with our semblances?"

"Technically," Ozpin coolly replies, "it is both. And among you, the only ones compatible are the Branwen siblings, Raven and Qrow."

My brother and I fall silent, unsure of what to expect. The warrior in me jumps at the possibility of greater power. I desire strength. The mother in me rejects it. I don't deserve this. Such a gift would be wasted on a woman like me. However...

A tribe can only be as strong as its leader.

If I was born compatible, then whatever this is, it belongs to me.