Fear

I'm pathetic. I can't even delude myself into thinking this is disappointment in Tai or jealousy of Summer. I'm just scared. What was I thinking? The moment I saw the door open beside them, and the child that emerged, I flew off and ran away from my own daughter.

This isn't me. I've got to get a hold of myself.

The field I land in is all too familiar. This is the same path I walked with Ozpin before that fateful night. The vivid green beneath my feet betrays the history that tainted this soil. Too many familiar faces died here. I didn't particularly like any of them, but I didn't mind their company at Beacon, either.

I open a portal. I have a small inner circle within the tribe that I can trust. My semblance offers unparalleled mobility, and this small group lets me utilize it to its fullest. Two of my best are waiting for me at a fair distance away from the camp. I keep my transformation ability a secret, and discretion is key. I step through the winding red portal as my mind wanders.

What would her semblance have been? I think to myself, recalling the night when her eyes flashed red like mine.

"Raven! We need to hurry back! What the hell took so long?" My clouded thoughts are broken by the frantic desperation of the woman in front of me. "We don't have time to waste—the camp's being overrun by Grimm!"

The man beside her points upwards at the hill towards the camp. The black smoke from the camp hardly compares to the shadows I see crawling up the hill. He turns towards me, waiting for my word. They wanted to run back, but they obediently followed orders and waited for my return.

"Get ready. I don't know what we're going to dive into once we go through this portal." They nod at my words, and we warp to the camp with weapons raised.

I immediately slash into the crowd of Beowulves as we exit the portal. The pleading and thanks whispered at my feet are barely heard over the screams and cries that surround us. The bloody hand of the man I warped to releases my clothes and drops to the ground. Something's not right. The camp has been stable since I took control. Grimm couldn't have possibly been drawn to us. Furthermore, this is too organized—just like the attack on Patch.

I order the two behind me to support the struggling areas in the camp. I'm not letting any more of my people die today. I trained my inner circle specifically for situations like this. I open portal after portal, warping between groups and killing waves of Grimm with each pass. The sighs of salvation from the wounded and dying fill my ears.

That's what I tell myself, at least. I don't want to think that their final breaths were from disappointment. They died because I was too late. Because I chose my daughter over them.

And in the end, I never even let myself see her. Their deaths are meaningless.

Now, some of my men are cheering. It goes without saying that my arrival has single-handedly turned this battle around. This is nothing.

The restored morale abruptly disappears with the sun. In an instant, the ground was swallowed by black, taking the sky with it. I still feel the ground beneath my feet, but my mind makes no sense of the endless swirling void surrounding me—nor the echoing voice that invades me.

"I thought I felt something different in this region." A woman's voice assaults my senses. "I must say, I'm quite surprised. You leave traces of chaos behind you, but keep your camp well controlled. Your efficiency fits the role of one of Ozpin's chosen, but your choices certainly do not. You steal. You kill. You plague. It's almost fascinating."

In the center of what was once our camp, a woman's silhouette forms from the shadows. I can't see her face, but the pale shade of her fingers from her sleeves reveal complexion devoid of life. "You're nothing like the other chosen. I should thank you for spreading turmoil but," she pauses, dropping her sinister smile, "you're beginning to annoy me."

"What's she saying!?"

"What do we do, Raven?"

"Help us!"

My tribe's voices finally reach me. Though it echoes taller than mountains, no one else can hear this woman's ominous voice.

This is her—the merciless witch Ozpin warned us about.

That bastard and his false hope. My "blessing" is nothing compared to this monster.

The empty eyes of my fallen stare into me, pleading for vengeance. By conditioning and instinct, I stand my ground and raise my sword. My tribe readies as well, driven by my illusion of courage. She laughs.

She knows. Those demonic red eyes overpower my own. My steel stays firm, but my willpower shatters.

This haunting laughter.

I hold my stance for my tribe, but, for the first time in ages, I am truly afraid.

I don't want to die like this.

"Remember this feeling, worm." My insides cringe at her words. "Learn your place. Stay out of my way. If you waste my time, I will bring you terrors darker than death."

In the next moment, the pitch black void seems to darken and grow. Against the emptiness, countless shadows sharpen above me. By instinct, my body automatically runs. Without purpose. Fight, flight, I don't know what I'm doing, but I see the witch named Salem drawing closer.

I can't react. I only blinked once. When I opened my eyes, what were once massive needles turned to fangs. I don't even have any breath to scream as the giant jaw tears into my flesh.

The sudden flash of light signals the end.

"Hey! Boss, what happened!? Who the hell was that?" The arm tugging at my shoulders returns me to my senses. The blinding flash was reality abruptly forcing itself back into vision. The bodies littering the floor cement the fact that Salem is truly unstoppable. The vision just now was an illusion, but the waves of Grimm were real. The blood in my camp is proof enough.

Apparently, I started running towards Salem earlier. It must have looked like a valiant charge to the camp. There's as much admiration and praise as there is grieving. They don't know how helpless I felt.

As I reorganize the camp and tend to the survivors, I shamefully prepare plans to avoid Salem and the Grimm as much as possible.

Earlier, she mentioned another. She must have meant Qrow, who is likely still chasing Ozpin's ideals. Does he even know what he's involved in? How involved is the rest of the team? My heart sinks. I hate myself for it, but my instincts for self preservation win over my heart.

Tai and Yang. I can only hope for their safety. Like a coward.