𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 (English)

Chapter 92

The dream trembled.

It wasn't the ground because the ground wasn't real, but the very boundaries of the dream itself vibrated and shook. Walls bent and curved. Details blurred. Brief flashes of static-like quality took their surroundings, shaking and twisting them into impossible shapes before Salem's subconscious snapped them back into place.

But they were no longer firm.

Nothing about the dream was. The floor had a consistency like treacle and the statues by the walls leaked blood from chinks in their armour. Salem's throne leaned to one side and the ceiling rippled like the surface of a lake.

Jaune let out a slow breath of his own. He had no idea what the beast would do and whether it could harm him, but when the only other option was certain capture at Salem's hands... well, he'd take the risk. Better dead than taken alive.

"Do you think this impresses me?" Salem asked, clutching to her throne.

"It's not me. This is something that exists in your subconscious. I assume it's the influence of the pools you threw yourself into."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ozpin told me the only reason you survived the pools was because of your curse. If the pools spawn Grimm, and Grimm mindlessly hate, then something has to be giving them that drive to destroy and kill. Some overring urge, almost like programming, telling them what to do and how to do it. You didn't die but that programming might still have been put into your head."

"Fool," Salem scoffed, quietly. "I wanted to destroy before the pools. Nothing changed after but for my physical form."

"But Ozpin said—"

"Ozma is thousands of years old! You think his mind hasn't wavered? He was a great king, a ruler with unparalleled experience in controlling those beneath him. He would always tell me that the best way to rule is to convince the people beneath you to want to be ruled. Propaganda was his favoured method. Making people feel special, convincing them of the justness of their actions as they conquered our neighbours." Salem looked at him mockingly. "Do you really think you are spared from that? Ozma told you exactly what he needed to tell you to make you loyal."

Doubt crept in.

But Jaune rejected it. "Is this where you tell me I've got it all wrong and you're actually the wounded party here?"

"No." Salem sat back and clicked her tongue. "I don't care for it. Think what you will about me but don't be so blind as to assume his every word is truth. Ozma wasn't there when I threw myself into the pools. He knows nothing of it. He doesn't even know what I was aiming to achieve by doing it."

"Suicide, wasn't it?"

"Why would I try and commit suicide when I know I can't die?"

It was a good question.

"Then you hoped the Grimm would consume your mind?"

"Death of the mind is death all the same. The gods wouldn't let my consciousness escape their curse. You could try it now. Replace my memories as you did Cinder's. I guarantee the curse will force them back."

The room trembled and blurred again, a reminder of the beast's approach. The wall behind him where the door had been begun to melt and ooze like honey, slowly revealing the corridor beyond. The outer wall was also being broken away – this time the bricks rolling back and falling below one by one to the courtyard below. Outside, lightning flashed in incandescent green.

There was little time left for conversation.

"Why did you do it, then?" he asked. "What was your reason?"