The Emerald Forest was quiet again, or as quiet as it could ever be. The smell of moss and damp earth clung to the air, thick and green and restless with the distant calls of unseen birds. The shadows of high branches tangled with shafts of pale light, and in that fractured glow two figures picked their way through underbrush—one tall but lanky, the other graceful in her crimson armor.
Jaune Arc rubbed the back of his neck as he trailed behind Pyrrha Nikos, trying not to trip on roots or look too much like the rookie he knew he was. His family's sword and shield bounced awkwardly against his side, as though reminding him with each step that he didn't belong here. His heart still thudded from the earlier chaos of initiation, though he did his best to look calm.
Then, faint but sharp, came a sound.
'Gunfire?'
He froze and cocked his head, listening. It was muffled by distance, but unmistakable—sharp cracks, too clean to be wood snapping, too regular to be nature.
"Did you hear that?" he asked, turning toward the noise.
Pyrrha slowed, her green eyes narrowing as she tilted her head as well. "Gunfire. It seems some of our comrades have encountered the enemy."
Her tone was calm, steady, as though "enemy" meant nothing more alarming than "rain on the forecast." She stepped forward again, lifting a branch aside to clear the path.
Jaune kept glancing toward the sound. His imagination was already painting pictures: Ruby firing Crescent Rose, Weiss fencing like she was in a ballroom, Yang laughing as she smashed Grimm into trees. All of them fighting, already heroes, while he—
The branch snapped back into his face.
"Gah!"
The wood smacked his cheek hard enough to sting, sending him flopping backward into the dirt. His sword clattered beside him as he rubbed his face with a groan.
"Jaune!" Pyrrha gasped, spinning around with Miló already half-raised as though she expected a Grimm ambush. Then her eyes widened. "Oh no! I'm so sorry!"
He pulled his hand away with a chuckle, though it was shaky at best. The sting had left a thin gash across his cheek, warm blood already rising. "It's okay. Just a scratch!"
He tried to stand tall again, brushing off his hoodie as if that could erase the clumsy display. His family heirloom rattled against his thigh, mocking him.
Pyrrha, however, didn't smile. Her gaze lingered on the cut with a faint frown. "Why didn't you activate your Aura?"
"Huh?"
"Your Aura."
"...Gesundheit?" he said without thinking, immediately regretting it.
Her frown deepened—but then softened into a small, almost pitying smile. "Jaune, do you... know what Aura is?"
He waved her off quickly, his face heating up. "Psch! Of course I do! Do you know what Aura is?"
The way she looked at him—gentle, knowing, patient—made his chest tighten with embarrassment. She knew he was bluffing. Of course she did. And that was somehow worse than if the whole school had laughed at him. What kind of huntsman-in-training came to Beacon without even unlocking his Aura?
Pyrrha stepped closer, her spear and shield lowering as she eased into a teacher's tone. "Aura is the manifestation of our soul. It bears our burdens and shields our hearts." She circled him slowly, her boots barely whispering against the grass. "Have you ever felt you were being watched without knowing that someone was there?"
"...Uh, yeah." He shifted uneasily.
Her voice was calm, melodic, carrying through the quiet forest. "With practice, our Aura can be our shield. Everyone has it, even animals."
Jaune frowned, trying to imagine it. "What about monsters?"
"No." She shook her head. Her hair caught a shaft of light, gleaming bronze. "The monsters we fight lack a soul. They are creatures of Grimm, the manifestation of anonymity. They are the darkness, and we..." She looked at him, eyes steady and bright. "...we are the light."
Something in the way she said it made his skin prickle. He swallowed, trying to keep up. "Right. That's why we fight them!"
"It's not about why," Pyrrha corrected gently, "it's about knowing. Understanding dark and light helps us manifest our Aura. Everyone has some of both."
Her words carried weight, though he only half-understood them. They sounded... bigger than him, bigger than Beacon.
She stopped in front of him and raised a hand to his cheek, right where the scratch still stung. Her gauntlet was cool, but her touch was careful. "By baring your soul outward as a force, you can deflect harm. All of our tools and equipment are conduits for Aura. You protect yourself—and your soul—when fighting."
Jaune blinked at her, at the way her confidence radiated so easily. He opened his mouth, searching for something clever to say, but all that came out was: "It's like a force field!"
Her lips curved in a faint smile. "Yes. If you want to look at it that way."
She stepped back, letting her shield rest against her hip. "Now, close your eyes and concentrate."
"Uhh... okay." He obeyed, though his nerves buzzed. Closing his eyes in Grimm territory felt like begging to be eaten.
Then he felt her presence closer again, warm and steady. Pyrrha's voice lowered into something like a chant, carrying with it an almost ancient resonance:
"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death."
Her palm pressed against his chest, over his heart.
"I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee."
A surge rushed through him. Heat, light, pressure, all at once—as though someone had struck a gong inside his chest. His breath caught, his eyes snapping open to find his skin glowing white. Pyrrha herself glowed faintly red, though she faltered, bowing under the strain.
"Pyrrha?"
She straightened again, exhaling slowly. "It's all right. I used my Aura to unlock yours, but the energy that protects you now is your own." She smiled, her eyes soft and proud. "You have a lot of it."
He looked down at his hands, the glow fading but leaving behind a new sensation: strength, warmth, rightness. He brushed his cheek again—and the gash was gone. Completely.
"Wow..." The word slipped out on a breath of awe.
Pyrrha chuckled softly, lowering her hand. For a moment, standing there with her in that shaft of light, Jaune almost forgot how clumsy he felt, how out of place.
But then something shifted.
The forest seemed to exhale—a faint rustling that wasn't wind, a hush that wasn't silence. Jaune turned his head, frowning. "Do you... feel that?"
Pyrrha tilted her head. Her expression sobered as her eyes scanned the trees. "Yes. Something is..."
Her words trailed off.
There, beyond a curtain of hanging vines, the air wavered strangely. At first, Jaune thought it was just sunlight glinting through the branches—but the shimmer didn't move like light. It pulsed, fractured, as though the world itself were straining around a wound.
He froze, eyes narrowing. "Do you... see that?"
Pyrrha followed his gaze. Her brow furrowed, lips parting in unease. "I... don't know."
The shimmer rippled again, jagged and unnatural, faintly tinted with a sickly green glow. It wasn't smoke, it wasn't fog, and yet the air bent around it like heat rising off stone.
Something in Jaune stirred—his newly awakened Aura tingling in the back of his mind, urging him closer. He took a step before Pyrrha's hand clamped firmly on his arm.
"Jaune," she whispered sharply. "Stay back."
But he couldn't tear his eyes away. Shapes flickered in that strange distortion—shadows that didn't belong to the forest around them, the faint suggestion of leaves, branches... and something else. A silhouette that seemed to watch them, just for a heartbeat, before dissolving again.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "What... is that?"
The forest around them was quiet. Too quiet. Even the wind seemed to have died, as though the entire world was holding its breath.
And then, almost mockingly, the shimmer pulsed again—like a heartbeat, waiting.