Never Change

Chapter 42

Several weeks ago

On Morag, there was no light to be found.

The darkness was heavy, oppressive, almost supernatural. Remnant's broken moon was nowhere to be seen; its luminescent rays were unable to pierce the eternal darkness that prevailed over the landscape. One would be swallowed up by the darkness, so much so that they couldn't see their own two hands in front of them. It was not merely the darkness that came out of the absence of light; in fact, it was something far, far more sinister.

From this eternal darkness, creatures of the unliving rose, the creatures of Grimm. The natural counterpart to humanity, the creatures of Grimm threatened the very existence of the humans. They crawled out of the cesspools of darkness, the black liquid dripping off their dark flesh. Newly born beowolves howled to the moon that they could not see, slowly limping in some direction, towards some unknown goal. Newly born Grimm had no white armor plating, but over time, they would grow more intelligent, and stronger, enough to prey on humanity.

It was a place out of time, disconnected from the rest of the world. Anyone would feel out of place, unnerved, in it. It was cold, uncaring, and bleak.

And yet, it felt right at home.

It thrived in this darkness. Once upon a time, it could remember, it had thrived in the blinding, disgusting light. It had fought against the darkness, resisting it, and attacking it relentlessly. It had wholly opposed the darkness then, but now it had been enlightened. Enlightened by its Mistress, its Maker.

It had embraced the darkness, been molded by it. It was all it had ever known, it was home.

It heard the clacking of heels in front of her and lowered its head submissively to its Maker. Its Maker knew that it could not perceive the world in the way most did, thankfully. Its Maker had liberated her of the organs that allowed vision - vision that sent disgusting, blinding rays into it. It was thankful for its Mistress.

Its Mistress was even considerate enough to let it hear that she was approaching.

"Are you ready, dear? To be my Lower Apostle Four?" the familiar voice of its Maker spoke, echoing throughout the darkness.

Yes! It wanted to please her!

"Yes, Mistress," it replied, smiling. It was finally going to be of use to her! It was going to make its Maker proud! It was grateful for her, for how its Maker had opened its eyes to the darkness. It remembered that its Maker wanted it to be an Apostle, and now it was going to be one of them!

It nodded eagerly. Sometimes, its Mistress had doubts about its memory, but she had improved and worked hard at it to make sure its Maker would never be disappointed again! Parts of its memory were fuzzy, but it only knew that it was once the disgusting, blinding light. The ugly. The despicable.

But darkness was beautiful, ethereal, and never ending. Fire always went out, but darkness was always there. The before, and the after.

It was a part of the endless cycle of life and death. Everyone celebrated the birth, but no one the death. It thought that was a pity.

Everything was inevitable. It was simply a part of life, death, that is.

All Roses bloomed and Wilted, after all.

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Present

"It was mentioned in Qrow's report that Cinder Fall and another woman approached your camp," Percy started off, taking a sip of his tea. It made no logical sense for Raven to poison it, and even if she had, he doubted it came even remotely close to the lethality of pit scorpion venom. He had built immunity to almost all poisons, especially with his increasing powers and son of Poseidon heritage.