After last night’s ordeal, the swamps were a welcome respite. Troy’s advanced sleigh didn’t have the wheels to make it past a bog, but even though the tallest tower of the Coven was within sight, it was unlikely Aku would give chase. That didn’t change how paranoid Diana was. Still shell-shocked, she shivered at any thought of yesterday. It must be a prank, she found herself justifying. This can’t be happening.

The back of the chariot rattled her back into the real world. Eleanor had returned.

“D-Did you find the rest? Sister Eos and Artemis?”

“Yes. Their armor is intact, too. It too must be preserved just the same. And, no longer are they Sisters. Lady Eos and Artemis are they, now.” Eleanor wiped her eyes. “Told you. Nobody’s there. The Trajaneer must’ve left in the night, soon after us, once he got what he wanted. I know the damage looks bad, but… Nothing we can’t fix, in the coming years.”

“So… Now what?”

Eleanor set down her recently departed fellowship, the four deceased knights together again, covered with a white sheet in the main compartment. “Now, we leave. It’s up to us to ensure a proper burial. Lady Artemis established a rough plan of action back when it was only her and Lady Eos, just in case. It was always meant to be a contingency. We never gave it much thought. Nobody ever expected this would actually happen. We must take them across the lands, to the northern continent of snow. The graveyard of Lady Clotho… Would you like to, you know… Talk about it?”

“No.” Diana grabbed her legs and tried not to shake.

“Hey, c’mon. This just means more one-on-one time between us.” She tried to cheer her up. “It’s not over. You were chosen among us for a reason. With eyes like yours, you were meant to surpass any Silver-Eyed Warrior. In time, I know this will only strengthen us. Here, check out what I found in your room.” A stuffed wolf was presented, which had been kept behind Eleanor’s back. “It’s Mister Wiggles.”

Diana said nothing, though she smiled and accepted.

“I have a feeling you’ll like our second destination.” Eleanor said.

“What do you mean?”

“The Forgotten Tears. Clotho’s Coven only dies with you. So now, it’s time. Become immortal.”

“B-But… Am I really ready? I know it’d be breaking rules. What would Sister Artemis say?”

“I dictate when, as your teacher. And it’s Lady Artemis.” Eleanor corrected.

“It doesn’t matter! Don’t you see? Herald was right. I was no use at all! They’re all gone, because of me.”

“No.” Eleanor sat closer, embracing her. “Most people like us would’ve taken a sip of the Soulcess’ waters before they could speak, their beginning in Remnant aligned with the Soulcess, but you? You’re special. You’ve been through more than all of them, as a human. What you’ve done? The amount of work you’ve put in? I make the decision when you’re ready. And I couldn’t be more proud.” She started tearing herself. “Do you know the Soulcess’ Judge?”

“…Yes. That would be Krey, right? He was all over the books. He’s the one who ensures anyone attempting to reincarnate in the Soulcess is truly an Amaryllis. And, he stops anyone whom he deems unworthy from drinking the river’s drops. No one can appose his might.”

“Even without me at your side, he’ll bend to you at once. I’d bet anything on it. Time heals all, Sister Diana. I learned that not long ago myself, when Abigor was turned into the Wraith.”

“…I knew it. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“…Yep.” Eleanor tried to soften the blow, cradling Diana’s shoulder, gazing upon the sunrise. “Hahaha. So, this must be how Lady Eos saw the world. Pretty spooky.”

“She always kind of scared me, actually.” Diana smiled, joy and sadness coming together.

“…Me too, kiddo.”

Their conversations, depressing as they were, tended to come infrequently, and they ended even sooner. If not for the need to ease the pain of her only friend, Eleanor may have given in herself.

Through the endless variations of a countryside they travelled, from sunset to sundown, over mountains and under ravines. Other than the occasional sighting from scattered towns overnight, humanity brought forth theories of the Coven’s absence. “The Grimm invasions haven’t stopped, you see.” Eleanor explained to Diana one rainy night. “Sure, while we’re always welcome, it’s taken only a few days for Remnant to replace us with The Seventh Brigade, which has had a surge in numbers, and a new leader. Funny how that works out, huh? Same kind of thing happened when we started Lady Styx’s travel to drink the Forgotten Tears. And Lady Mania. I wasn’t there for the others.”

“It was probably a bigger problem back then, right? Back when there weren’t manmade weapons, and soldiers, and order.”

“Oh, yeah. A pilgrimage such as this one back when it all started would’ve pinned us as wanted. Humans are fickle like that. We’re heroes one moment, and the next we’re outlaws just for living like everyone else. If they see someone exemplary drop the mantle, it’s viewed as a crime. Then, suddenly, we we’re heroes again.”

“What about the others? Herald the XVI needs to be replaced, too.” Diana laid a hand on Tormentyst, remembering how easily it drove one of her friends to villainy.

“Very good. To think he’d aid the bane of every Herald, the Trajaneer. It’s insane. Those Eidolons were his worst nightmare.” She covered her mouth. “When he pointed us to find the Rhinestone back in Servus City, we played right into his hand, the lying scoundrel. The tablets never made mention of such a thing, I’m guessing. Made it all up.”

“But why?”

“It was his plan all along to steal the Beryl Rhinestone, no matter the cost, and trade it for his freedom. All in the name of your sword. He lived, and died, for it.” Eleanor sighed. “I can only guess what Sir Kyradin Bael has in mind this time. No doubt, from this point forth he’ll be prone to choosing faunus without the capacity for malice.”

“Uh, yeah?” They both solemnly laughed. A Nomadic Outpost, now overrun with villagers who’d taken the land by force, greeted them with an open gate. A single conversation with the innkeeper, and they were ready to laze off the night. They couldn’t sleep, so they spent their time talking, playing games in the warm cradle of blankets, or crafting onto the log interiors simple shadows, cast from a healthy fireplace. Diana smiled for the first time in a while.

“So, I was wondering, since traditional is gone, and all…” She said. “Can you finally tell me what a Herald is?”

“Ha. Couldn’t hurt.” She set down her cards, face down. “Mere leaders, of the Old Fang. Kyradin Bael’s always handpicked his generals for as long as history exists. There’s only ever been one at any time, but as long as you’re faunus, and you’re willing to learn the Old Arts, anyone’s got a chance.”

Diana played a set of cards, trying to outwit Eleanor and talk at the same time. The wood table creaked, their cabin pelted by the rain’s deafening downpour. “Let me just get this straight. So they’re specially vetted squires of the Arbiter. That’s Sir Kyradin Bael, the faunus in red who caught Herald XVI the night of the… incident.”

“Exactly.” Eleanor clapped. “By the way, you beat me. Another round!”

“…Is Kyradin Bael and Kalthus the same person?”

Eleanor had to laugh out loud. “You clever snake. I knew it.”

“W-What?”

“The night we fought Aku. You spoke to him, didn’t you? He was the one to rescue you.” At hearing this, Diana squirmed. “Ha. Meet Kalthus, the Oathkeeper who’s lived many eras, with one name for each. As Lord Keres’ most trusted ambassador, his name was Sir Kyradin Bael.”

Diana slowly nodded, the entire story as senseless but intriguing as the next round of cards. “I’ll shuffle this time.”

Morning brought good news and spirits, thanks in part to the squall’s recession. “Leaving so soon?” The innkeeper asked, an array of weapons freshly forged on the wall behind him.

“I’m afraid so.” Eleanor said. “What’s your story? A blacksmith, is it? Good. I could use a new sword.”

“Yeah?” He lined up several. “What happened to the old one?”

In response, she unlatched the twisted knot of steel strapped to her waist for him to see- a result of the Wraith’s wrath.

“Oh? You want a repair job. That’ll cost extra.”

“Of course. Your kind has an obsession with price tags.” She remarked, to Diana’s smirking. “What’ll it be?”

“Double.”

“Woah.” Eleanor crossed her arms. “No. That can’t be right.”

“Yeah, we’ll see… Never have I seen a weapon in such a state of disrepair. Did you feed it to an Ursa, or something?” The blacksmith tried to gauge the scope of the project best he could, a silver engraving of characters on the blade visible but unreadable. “What did this say?”

She hesitated. “It translates into ‘His Gift’. This sword was a peace offering, between me and the-“

Diana cut in, catching a quiver in Eleanor’s voice. “The last Captain of the Seventh Brigade.”

“Abigor?” The Innkeeper wheezed.

“You knew of him?” Eleanor asked.

“Y-Yeah. Who wouldn’t? He was the best among us. Eh, I never knew him personally, but someone like that… I still can’t believe he’s really gone.” He squinted, catching an appreciative shift in Eleanor’s body language. “Say… You’re from Clotho’s Coven, aren’t you!?”

His fuss brought murmurs, until a small crowd had formed, eager to shake their hands, or offer them food. The feeling was nostalgic. They were still legends, this quant and creaking town proof of it. It seemed like celebrations of their work were so foreign, but it hadn’t been that long since the Trajaneer’s conquest. “Thank you, thank you!” Eleanor tried to calm them down, Diana too shy for such attention. If only the rest could have shared this moment.

“Why do we have to do this so early?” Diana whined in the timely morning of the next day, balancing Tormentyst between her hands.

“These urbans get a bit rowdy, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, when we’re out and about. Best start when they’re asleep. Don’t worry, we’ll be out of here in a just a few days, then it’s business as usual! And none of it will matter once you’ve sipped the tears, anyway.”

“Good.” She made Eleanor laugh.

“Not to mention, I’ve been waiting to try this.” She matched Diana’s pose with her newly forged weapon. “Don’t be nervous. Lady Artemis was a tough coach, I know, but I’m very different. Relax.”

She waited for the student to advance. Ten seconds passed, and still she waited. “Sister Diana? Why are you shaking?”

“I… I haven’t used Tormentyst since the night of my failure against Aku. I-I haven’t fought at all since the Heart’s fall.”

Eleanor’s formation collapsed, and she quickly held both of Diana’s hands. “There is nobody here to hurt you, now. I promise. Here! We’ll do it together.” Eleanor stood behind her, naturally being taller, and gripped Diana’s wrist, steadying her. “Perfection. Pay attention to my voice. Loosen your grip. There is no purpose in holding such power- such anger. You don’t need to exert every ounce of strength. Especially not with a weapon as well made as this one. The sword is a tool. Let it do the work.”

A seldom unnoticed black vulture watched curiously into sunrise, satisfied at the moans of swinging metal. When it left, the two knights waved goodbye, the vultures forever tied to their deceased ruler.

As the nights rolled by, and lush green was superseded by dry ground and snow, villages became the exception rather than the rule. Diana had become skilled at making fires in the night, and an unspoken tradition of roasting dinner over conversation was established.

Eleanor preferred to watch her meal burn on the stick, able to perform all the same on an empty stomach. “So, I’ve been thinking. One of us must be Xiasma. I mean, let’s be honest. There’s only two of us left, so…”

“I-It isn’t me. Please.” There was a hint of fear in her voice.

“It’s alright. I know it’s not you. You’d never betray us. Me, rather. You’d never betray me. But, neither would I turn my back on you. I don’t know what to think. What about you?”

“Maybe… Think about it. There’s no way Xiasma was anyone of us who died.” Diana sniffed. “Because, I don’t think anyone who’s a mastermind would ever end a plan with their own death, unless something went terribly wrong. But the prophesy is still active. Right?”

“Trajan’s not back yet, so as far as I can tell, yeah. Basically, you’re admitting that it was you all along.” Diana dropped her food and fell back. “Only kidding! Goodness. Take a joke. Here, have mine.” Eleanor handed over a scorched piece of hard meat, shriveled to perfection.

“Gee. Thanks.”

“I, um. I want to apologize. I’m sorry that all this happened. We pulled you into our world, raised you, made you love us as family. And then we left. But it wasn’t supposed to be this way. The Sisterhood was only meant to rest with time itself.” They leaned on the other’s shoulders, lending the resolve not to cry again.

“It’s not your fault. Not theirs, either.” A pause followed.

“You’re not eating. You’ll never become a champion with such a lame appetite.” Eleanor said.

“It’s, err…” She tried to make the blackened skewer seem edible. “A little crispy for my tastes.”

“Gotcha. I’ll go get some more. Be right back! Just keep the fire hot. We can’t let it die, now.”

Around a few trees, nestled among a chilled lake, the carriage was parked. She first gathered more frozen meat, before petting the stallions and taking a bucket to the nearby water. Eleanor squinted at the ripples formed in earnest, which travelled to the horizon. She felt as though she was being watched.

“…Guys? H-Hey! Guys!” Eleanor called out, testing whether or not she was really seeing the ghosts of the Coven Members, or simply losing her mind. If it wouldn’t have resulted in a freezing, slow death, she would’ve waded across the water to meet them before the phantoms, or figments of a cruel imagination, faded. “Wait! Come back!”

“Hey! Sister Diana!” Eleanor rushed back with her supplies, excited. “You’ll never guess what I saw!”

The fire was gone. Through the white steam and falling snow a darker presence kneeled over Diana, gently laying her on the ground by the shoulders, holding a finger to its drooling lips as if to lull her into a deeper sleep than was already achieved. Eleanor dropped everything. “Get away from her!”

Wraith spun its neck backwards and obeyed. Slowly, it floated into the sun, waving goodbye forever so its good work could be examined closely. “No! Diana, don’t leave! I can’t go on without you!”

No use. If Abigor couldn’t survive the channeling of a Geist, Diana never stood a chance.

She should’ve been used to weeping by now, but Eleanor’s heart split open nonetheless, the skies turning away in sadness to enshroud the spectacle in blackened tempests. Even the brightest, most vivid eyes in Remnant, snuffed out, were lifeless. Diana’s cheeks were dripping with tears, though they weren’t her own.

Eleanor screamed to the sky. “Was this always the fate you had in store? I sacrificed everything to serve the Coven, and in return this is the path you’ve set before me?! Have I not given enough? Why have you forsaken me!? Clotho! Hestia! Keres! Answer me!” Her sobbing returned. “Why? Why them? Why not me instead?”

In truth, this changed nothing, other than adding another casualty to the list of pupils to be preserved. The punishment of travelling there and performing the stacked funeral alone wasn’t enough. Eleanor had no reason to continue once the task was done until her sins were paid.

Six golden caskets waited, five of which were crowned with a candle, and the last completely empty. Regardless, they were aligned in order of age under a towering sculpt of the four greatest deities, in a fortress that dwarfed the decrepit Heart of the Coven.

Eleanor lit each of the candles, praying. “To the Coven Light. The Coven Rogue. The Coven Reaper. The Coven Knight. The Coven Huntress. Rest, now. May you forever share, love, and laugh above, in harmony. Oh, furthermore, shall you be among me still, even in passing. For it is through our allegiance that Remnant may rest, undying. Inculto, sisters. I’ll miss you.”

She laid inside the fourth coffin and drifted to sleep, just as she sought to do at the turn of every new moon from then on. Centuries passed. The world moved on, the lands named anew, humans and faunus able to prosper even with five-sixths of their defenses gone.

“Well… This is it.” Eleanor shrugged at her map. “At least, it certainly looks that way. I mean, this sketch matches the town and that home up there on that big hill, yes?” No response. As usual. “Look, I know nobody’s ever found it, but it says right here that the High Mansion and its neighboring town below was Trajan’s reprieve, and it’s the location where he was buried. Wish me luck, guys.”

It wasn’t often she came to Atlas. Crossing the bridge towards the house high above reminded her why. It brought back too many memories. Painful ones, but mostly good ones too. Now, lost in a deep labyrinth in search of Trajan’s resting place, this seemed like a much needed break in the case she spent years building.

“Ahem.” She tried turning the handle, never considering it may be locked. So, thinking it silly, she tried the natural next move and knocked. The fact that somebody actually opened it startled her. The person’s armor didn’t hide his bulging muscles nor ability to beat her in height by nearly a foot even with a mechanical leg. “A-A Delphic? Are you Trajan?”

“No.” Cain’s voice surpassed expectation. “Goodbye.”

Eleanor put her hand forward to keep the door open. “The last Delphic civilization living here was eradicated eons ago. How did you get here, and why are you living in the High Mansion?”

“I found it. So it’s mine. And you are unwelcome here. Time to leave.”

He failed to lock her out a second time. “Do you know who you’re speaking to, Delphic? Surrender yourself to me, and accept judgment. Lady Clotho demands it.”

“…Did I not make myself clear?” Cain moved forward, breathing heavily in restraint. “Get. Out.” Strangely, he had no reaction to Tormentyst being raised to his neck. “Or I’ll bolt your helmet against my wall.”

She didn’t listen. With the use of silver eyes, which Cain had no prior knowledge of, Eleanor turned him to solid rock. Even faster than Aku, who remained fresh in her memory, he exploded out of the spell and punched her in the stomach swifter than she could swing.

“Gah! H-How?” She coughed out, trying not to inhale dust and debris, which was swept into the air by the same fractured boulder that caught her.

“Oh, wow. Now, look at that. The fight is over.” Cain announced, strutting back into the grand structure.

“No. The fight is never over.” Eleanor contested.

“Fight’s over, now.” He slammed the door. She slammed back, knocking it off its hinges and tackling him past the living room like a battering ram, breaking through the furthest wall just to smash him through a tree.

“Ohhh… I’m going to gut you like roadkill.” Cain stomped back to his feet, shifting the ground beneath them. A simple but primal trade of fists brought them back under a roof. Eleanor had no choice but to back up, but taking the battle indoors was advantageous to the intruder nonetheless.

Reserving their weapons for the real fight, neither of them considered it cheating to use the environment. First, Eleanor snatched a red-hot poker from the lit mantle and hazed Cain with it, burning his skin, though the pain only made him madder. She hadn’t recognized his semblance, yet.

This strategy culminated with the chandelier, which was cut down to bash him from above. With a roar, he retaliated with an even more straightforward disregard for his own possessions. The grandfather clock gave way to a cloud of wood and gears once crunched over Eleanor’s head. Stunned, she could only brace for impact as he lifted her by the arm into an old, impressive piano. Not surprisingly, that exploded, too.

This guy’s insane! Eleanor coped with the pain through inner monologue. Oh, what I’d give to see you teach him real strength, Lady Eos.

Cain was more tenacious, but was still only a mortal. Eleanor used more sessions of training than anyone bound by lifespan could, to zip off the floor towards a rocking chair: her next weapon. It would’ve been comical how the High Mansion’s priceless artifacts were being depleted so quickly, but it all belonged to Trajan anyway. Like him, they were best left gone.

A heavy suit of armor encased in glass was ruined in its use as a large club. A mounted sword, just one of many weapons on display, was broken in two. Eleanor, quick not to be outdone, used a spiked, cobweb-ridden shield from the same wall as a shuriken, its impact enough to send the target through a window into the dining room.

“I’ll take down this entire city if that’s what it takes.” Cain ripped a set of embroidered window shades off the wall and finessed them around Eleanor’s eyes, wrapping her to make a throw onto the table too easy. From there, he crushed her head under his boot, breaking the centerpiece in half. He then grabbed an urn full of ashes and carelessly demolished it against her helmet, limiting her vision even further.

“Excellent. That’s my goal, anyway.” Flipping out of the rubble, she grabbed a lit candelabra and thrashed it about, frying him again with lines of boiling wax. To make it up to her, he snapped every single weapon off the circus of mounts and threw them at her, before upgrading to his prized flail.

“Have you any idea how many careers I cut short with this thing back in Beacon Academy!?” He shouted. “You’ve had your fun, girl. Now, you’re gonna swallow some teeth.”

As Cain’s rage approached the limits, his aptitude grew. Eleanor realized, as he strangled her into a smoldering fireplace, that the longer this fight went on, the less likely she was to win. The prospect dawned on her in full once she was grappled through the floor into an antique bedroom, whereupon her face was shoved into a mirror. She smiled.

Still on the ground but fancying fantastical footwork, she kicked him into the ceiling and quickly grabbed ahold of several huge bookcases, toppling both them and the entire upper floor onto the adversary.

“I’ve waited years for this moment. I made a promise. Never again will a Delphic enjoy the spoils of our civilization.” She grabbed his foot, dragged him out of the remains, and launched him out the window into the distant crossroads hundreds of feet below.

Eleanor flew to meet him at the bridge that led here to begin with, amused at his struggle to stand. “Get out of here, warrior. Now. Just leave me be.” He said.

“You’ve been charged with crimes against the order of things. A Delphic is not fit to walk the path of Remnant-“

“Get out!” Cain’s semblance reached its conclusion. He blinked forward and whacked her with a tree she hadn’t even seen him dislodge. Once the smoke settled, she couldn’t even recall what happened in the last several seconds, confused to be laying among a fallen bell tower.

“Enough of this! You cannot beat me. I am a Silver Eyed Warrior! It is your purpose to die by my hand!”

“Silence!” He screamed, locking his hands around her throat before giving her mask a taste of his knuckles with every word. “Get! Away! From! My! House!” With a final punch, he split the overpass and sent them both into the river far below. The entire way down, they traded blows, leading to a short scuffle in the water until the current forced them apart.

Eleanor crawled onto land, her armor badly damaged and her cape practically shredded. Cain didn’t have the courtesy to give her a time-out so she could spit out all the inhaled water. He dunked her back under the creek violently. In spite of this, before she could drown, perhaps out of enmity, he pulled her back up and wrapped the chain of his flail around her neck. One breath was all Eleanor was granted before she met the walls of ten houses at high velocity.

Somehow, he was on her again the second she landed, slumped against a wall, Tormentyst barely within grasp. Cain pummeled her, kicking the sword away. “This is fun, right? You wanted this, right? You wanted to see me angry!? Well!? You have made me mad!” With one final swing of his flail, the weapon was broken into two pieces, and Eleanor’s helmet cracked- the floor welcoming her. Shock overcame the worry of an empty Aura meter. Now, she could only see out of her right eye.

Cain paused, looking at his old but newly busted flail with a mix of irreverence and sadness. He let it go, his hands shaking.

Eleanor had lost. For a minute, the two only caught their breath, Cain too exhausted to even relish the victory. No. In a last gambit, Eleanor removed her helmet and abused the full extent of her remaining silver eye. The Domain of Trajan was lit with a hopeful, unending light, the valley incapable of withstanding such raw power.

Cain attempted to resist, but the shockwave ate every last morsel of his Aura and pulverized him along the ruins, past the High Mansion, nothing able to stop his flight- least of all the mountains which crumbled upon his broken body. Atlas groaned.

Eleanor sat up, holding the left side of her face. “…Ah… Aha. Told ya. W-We got him, guys. Ow.” She fell back.

A few hours of raw rest later, the sun suggested a departure by disappearing on its own. Eleanor finally limped away, dragging Tormentyst behind her. “I warned him, guys. I could not perish yet. Not until both Xiasma is found for certain to prove my innocence, and Trajan is locked away in certainty till the twilight of man. I owe you that much, sisters. Don’t worry. Once my quest is finished, I will return. May Lady Clotho, and each of you, show mercy on me should I fall.”

Clotho’s Coven will live on.

Entry No. 10 complete.

This volume may be finished, but the Archive is not.

There is so very much work left to be done.

The end of my expedition rests countlessly in a distant future.