A/NN: Greetings Claymore fandom readers and writers! It is with my great pleasure that I am here today to present to you all my first and greatest work of all. I have read and loved numerous Claymore stories here and today is the day I finally contribute to this fandom and hopefully restore my OTP. It's been out for much too long. Two years, I have been planning for this story. I had been tweaking and editing the plot several times over so that the story would be as perfect and entertaining as can be. There will be romance, but it is slow burn; meaning that Galatea and Miria won't come together until three quarters of the story in. Apologies if this deters you, but I will not rush things here. Also, I tried to make up for the lack of romance with the main story, so that you all will not be bored with this.

Now, here with me to present my pride and joy is my fellow friend and servant, James A. Rodsworth. Say hi, Rods.

Rodsworth: Hello everyone. I'm glad to be here and it's an honor to help my useless lady cohost her fine work. Did I have any part in writing this? Nope. She likes to write alone.

Indeed. Now then! -claps hands together- let's get this show on the road! Please enjoy.

Rodsworth: *ahem* aren't you forgetting something?

Huh? ...Oh yeah! Claymore does not belong to me or my cohost here. It belongs to a Mr. Norihiro Yagi. See Rods, this is why you're here. All right, curtains up!

Act I: The Past, Present, and Future

The sun's warming rays had pierced the bloody, battered remains of the city of Pieta. The awakened beings responsible for the destruction of the snowy city and the numerous corpses lying around everywhere had migrated south. The task force assembled to extinguish the threat had failed; they had all fallen, one by one. Not a single living organism had flourished in Pieta, the city stood in silence with the fleeting sun's rays the only thing dancing in the depressing scene.

For what seemed an eternity, silver eyes fluttered open for the first time. Phantom Miria, the number six of the organization and the leader of the Northern Campaign, had awoken after a long, uneasy slumber. One minute, she was fighting at the top of her game and struggling for life as shrieks of terror and death filled the hopeless battlefield and the next, everything was quiet. The silence was daunting; nothing could be heard for miles.

The second she tried to sit up, a sharp and searing pain shot up her lower right side. Immediately regretting her action, and many other past actions, Miria latched on to her wounded area tenderly. She didn't know how long she was out, seeing as the cold slowed and stopped the blood flow. Her injury made it near impossible to get up; movement allowed blood to flow through the large gash and the pain to return.

The leader and survivor of the Northern Campaign stumbled back down onto the snowy ground as she let out a small yelp of pain. Trying a second time, the blood and hurt seemed to have increased twofold; as if an unknown force worked to keep her grounded.

Miria caught her breath before she picked up her sword that had lain next to her as she slept. Stabbing it hard and deep into the ground, the Phantom pulled herself to her feet with all her might, ignoring the intense discomfort that was keen on keeping her imprisoned. A long cry of pain escaped Miria as she slowly rose to her feet.

Standing on slight wobbly legs, Miria finally righted herself and stood strong and determined, back to her former glory. A gale of wind swept past her spiky mane, uniform, and open wound. With a heavy foot, she sunk her armored boot into the snow and pressed onward.

Her feet weren't the only things she found to be heavy as she walked. As Miria dragged her sword on the white powder, she soon found that a new kind of pain had replaced her battle wound, and this was much more unsettling and invaded her heart.

The Phantom could only gawk as she trekked through the frozen wasteland and with every step she took, she felt her heart sink deeper and deeper. Blood and bodies of her comrades and enemies and rubble from totaled buildings and houses littered the snowy earth.

'No... No this, this can't... There has to be someone, anyone.' Miria silently wept, for her comrades and for her inability to save them all.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to breakdown and wail until her body was wracked with sobs. It was her job to save everyone first and foremost and as long as she saved plenty, then her mission would be accomplished. But seeing the mass destruction and death, Miria had never felt like such a failure before.

'All these young women... Gone and horribly mutilated. What cruelty..?!' As she trudged through, the Phantom gazed upon the faces of her fallen comrades. She remembered them all. Miria knelt beside each warrior, closed their eyes and placed her hand on their forehead before ushering words of sorrow and peace. It was part of her job as a leader, and she had to find survivors. Using yoki to call out to whoever was alive would be dangerous as enemies could still be lurking near the vicinity. Although there weren't any yoki auras hanging in the air, Miria still had to be wary and ready.

Eventually, the Phantom picked up on a faint yoki aura, one that felt very familiar and strong. Miria picked up her pace. She found Deneve sitting on the snow with dual swords in hand. At one time, the single digit would have felt her heart swell at the fact that someone, and a dear friend at that, had survived. But as she stood only a few feet away from her, she discovered that her comrade was not in such high spirits despite the fact that she was alive.

Deneve had her head down and hands gripped tightly onto both swords with her legs sprawled out. Her wounds did not appear to be as bad as hers and with the lower ranked warrior's healing abilities, her injuries looked to be already gone, save for the dried blood.

This was not a time for celebration.

As Miria drew closer, Deneve snapped her head up and readied her weapons. She relaxed immediately upon recognition of the intruder. Number fifteen sighed in relief.

"Miria… I'm glad to see you alive."

"Likewise Deneve." The Phantom extended her hand towards her friend and helped her to her feet.

They nodded at each other before laying their stare on the scarred landscape. Neither had spoken, it was a difficult time to find words of appeasement. Miria looked down at Deneve's new sword and identified it as Undine's. She sighed internally and looked away.

"Have you found any other survivors?" Deneve asked.

"No. I take it you haven't found any either…" Their eyes never locked throughout their exchange.

Deneve dipped her head down briefly and placed her hand on her leader's shoulder.

"Miria… you're hurt." She removed her hand and narrowed her stare at the bleeding gash.

"It's fine. I'll be ok."

Deneve nodded and set her sights back on the land. Deciding that they had stayed there for long enough, the second survivor began to move and search for others.

"I should go. I'm going to look for Helen and Clare." Holstering her weapons, Deneve set out to search for her close comrades.

"Deneve, look for other survivors too." Miria called out and the retreating figure nodded.

The Phantom looked to the bright skies and sighed with a heavy heart. She was happy as could be that a close friend had made it, but she already passed by a few dead and each one was a blow to the heart that hurt more than being impaled. Miria fell to her knees and closed her eyes. Her world faded to black once more as she recalled the last time her and everyone under her command were together.

All twenty-four warriors stationed in Pieta assembled in the town hall. Miria sat behind a large desk cutting a yoki suppressant pill in half with her claymore.

"Each one of you will take one of these before battle." Miria addressed the crowd, holding the half pill for everyone to see.

"Half a suppressant pill?" A warrior asked.

"Taking just half will neither erase your yoki or hinder your ability to read yoma energy. Nothing will change," Miria assured them.

"Should you lose consciousness, immediately after your yoki stops flowing, the half pill will take into effect."

Stunned silence filled the room.

"So to summarize, we'll fool everyone into thinking we're dead." Flora summed up Miria's words.

"Our goal for tomorrow's battle is not to win, but to survive. Running away is not an option because we'll just become targets for the organization to destroy. That's why I want everyone to think we all died here."

Silence continued to fill the room before Miria started again.

"I think you all understand the gist of the plan, but the possibility of all of us walking out of this alive does not exist. If you prefer, you may call it a plan to save some by sacrificing the majority."

"I'm sorry, but I can't think of any other way. It's unacceptable, yes, but-"

"Excellent!" Undine exclaimed. All eyes were fixed upon her now.

"In a mission where no one survives, having at least a shred of hope for survival is more than satisfactory! And what's better is that the plan is fair. Single and double digits both have a shot of survival. The outcome of everyone still breathing is just a fantasy, but it's not impossible." Undine added, eyes of amazement and surprise still fixed on her.

"Indeed. I also think that this is our best option. No hard feelings to whoever is still breathing in the end. The survivors will carry the will and spirits of all twenty-four of us. Let's do that." Flora spoke, carrying on the conversation while unsheathing her sword.

"Let's all wish each other good luck, and hope for the best." Flora finished. Every warrior drew their swords and held it out amongst each other in a large circle that filled the entire room.

Miria woke up once again. After several hours, the sky had turned grey and the winds howled. She brought herself to her knees and started to weep as she felt only seven auras present. Her sadness could no longer be contained.

"Seven warriors…only seven had survived?..." She clenched her fists into the snow.

"Was this seriously…wasn't there a better way? ...Anything? Had I …?" Before she could question and berate herself any longer, she was brought to her feet by Helen and Clare.

"Miria, look at us. These are the lives that you managed to save," Deneve told her, the blood on the side of her head still dried and frozen. The remaining three watched Miria weep and listened to Deneve speak as they lay on the snow, surrounded by not only their own blood, but their comrades' as well.

"No one harbors ill feelings towards you. As long as we consider the feelings of those who fell, it's ok. We were truly lucky to have you with us, leading us. This is what I believe from the bottom of my heart."

Miria stared at Deneve wide-eyed before returning to softly weeping with the wind howling in the background.

Sooo, what did you guys think? Like it, love it, hate it? Think it needs improvement in places? Please let me know :) Also, this will be one looooong ass story. So buckle in guys! You're in here for the long haul. Also, the flashback takes place in chapter 66 Joined By Souls pt 2. I reworded the dialogue because I didn't want to plagiarize.

Rodsworth: She's not kidding. The story is divided into five acts. Pretty lengthy but I'm sure you will all enjoy it. Oh, there was this time when she pla-

Not here!

Rodsworth: Fine. My apologies, miss.

Better. All right everyone, I'll be posting the second chapter hopefully next week. Till then. Come on Rods, I published my first fanfic. I need to celebrate. -mischievous grin-

Rodsworth: -sigh- very well. Have a great day, ladies and gentlemen.