Never Change

Chapter 25

From inky black cesspools, newborn Grimm arose, slowly crawling out, surveying their surroundings in search of food. Black liquid splattered onto the red ground as they howled to the moon, trudging on the otherworldly red dirt.

Above, in a dimly lit room with glass windows, Emerald Sustrai looked on in horror, as Cinder Fall snapped her fingers from her chair of bones, the sound echoing throughout the high ceiling throne room. Emerald quickly moved to her side, not wanting to anger her.

"Yes, yes, please keep your little pet in check," Arthur Watts said, glancing dismissively at Emerald.

Cinder narrowed her remaining amber eye, her left socket hollow and covered by a mask as well as her hair.

"You hear that?" the green-eyed man remarked, smirking, "Perfect silence. I have half a mind to thank the man who bested you so easily."

Tyrian Callows turned to Cinder, a wide smile adorning his face.

"If I were you, I'd hunt him down, find him, and, well... he took your eye, and your arm, didn't he?" Tyrian's maniacal laughs reverberated throughout the room, as he crouched atop his seat, smiling widely.

Cinder slammed her fist onto the table, seething, "What makes you think you can beat him!? You lost to him too, Callows."

"The fact remains that you are a colossal failure," Watts inspected his fingernails in boredom, "Still only Upper Rank Four. Even with the maiden powers, you were far too scared to challenge Rainart for the Rank Three position. At this rate, the Lower Rank One will take your spot."

"And what does that say for you, who doesn't even hold an Apostle rank within the Covenant!?" she challenged back.

Watts rolled his eyes, "I do not engage in such barbaric acts. I am merely Salem's esteemed advisory, the 'brains' of the matter, if you will. Strength has its value, but you have neither the intelligence, nor the strength to take what is needed."

Cinder's hands clenched the arms of her bone chair, "Why you-"

The doors to the room slammed open with a bang, and she silenced herself mid-sentence.

The room grew quiet as they quickly stood up from their seats.

A woman elegantly glided on the floor towards the head of the table, drifting eerily across the room.

Her skin was a deathly pallor, with jet black sclerae in her eyes and glowing red irises. Dark purple veins lined her face and arms as she wore a long black robe that dragged across the ground. Her jewelry clinked quietly as she took her seat at the head of the table.

"Watts. Do you find such malignance necessary?" Salem indicated for them to be seated. Watts remained standing, seemingly sweating.

"I apologize Ma'am. I'm not particularly fond of failure."

"Nor am I," her eyes glowed red. An oppressive darkness began covering the room, "Cinder. I sent you to obtain the final quarter of the Maiden's power. You did not. I sent you to kill Ozpin, you did not."

"But Ma'am I- I managed the Fall of Beacon! And I weakened Ozpin greatly before Hazel killed him! It's just that, that boy-"

"Silence," Salem held up a veiny hand, her voice reverberating throughout the room, "I only hear excuses. You weakened Ozpin, but you were not the one to kill him. Hazel did. You did not recover the last part of the maiden's power..."

"And you were nearly killed by a new player. Apollyon removed your arm and your eye, and would have removed your life from Remnant, had Tyrian not saved you. Much of my inner circle are fugitives now, because of your failure at Beacon. You should be grateful."