Prologue: Powerful Souls

The Kingdoms of Remnant were strong but not infallible. Their walls shielded the people from the darkness that had constantly besieged them for centuries. Heroes, huntsmen, huntresses, all holders of brilliant souls, fought bravely in defense of their homes, driving their lifelong enemy back. But there was no end to the Grimm that plagued them and one after another, the outer Kingdoms began to fall. Only four pillars of humanity remained, each standing defiantly in the face of the encroaching hordes. Vale, Vacuo, Mistral, and Atlas. Each were a beacon of hope to humanity. Their armies were strong and their people resilient.

But the smallest of cracks had appeared in the armor of the Kingdoms. It was only a matter of time before hope itself would shatter and fear would take hold.

Ozpin sat in the dark of his office, the clanking of gears giving the smallest of echoes in the otherwise empty room. The pitter-patter of raindrops grazed the glass of the window overlooking the courtyard of his school. It was barren of students outside, being the middle of summer. The prospective huntsmen and huntresses were no doubt blissfully unaware of the events unfolding around them. While the world enjoyed the prosperity of peace, the information the bespectacled man received from his agents weighed heavily on his mind.

He sat there, hands clasped, elbows leaning on his desk. The headmaster's vision blurred as he focused every ounce of his being on the problem at hand and the possible solutions he could begin to put in place.

If the Maidens' power is taken all is lost. Without their support our defense against the Grimm would last a few decades at most. After that the Grimm would no doubt cast its gaze upon the heart of the city.

Rumors were beginning to spread among the huntsmen. Stronger Grimm were appearing more frequently, some even showing a modicum of intelligence. The death rate for the defenders of humanity was climbing with every passing year. Now there was talk of a woman beginning to gather power to launch an assault on the Maidens. Things were not boding well.

The Grimm were a collective. Ozpin could offer no proof for this theory but it was one he believed to be true with every ounce of his being. They were waiting. Biding their time until the perfect moment to be rid of the species that had been hunting them for centuries. Ozpin couldn't let them have their way. He refused the notion that light would bend its knee to the darkness.

And so Ozpin steeled his resolve, knowing full well what he must do to ensure a future for humanity.

Though the school itself was relatively knew, the spot for its location was carefully selected. A deep and ancient secret was hiding beneath the school's very foundation. One that Ozpin and only a few others even knew existed.

He opened his scroll, his eyes wincing at the sudden brightness upon its activation. The picture of a blonde woman wearing her hair in a bun was inches below his hand. He was only a moment away from sending her a message before he hesitated.

No. This will be my decision alone. She shouldn't be connected to it after it is over.

With that the gray haired man closed the scroll and stood up from his desk. He took a deep breath, his hand grasping the familiar pommel of his cane. He walked outside his office and down the hall. Under normal circumstances Glynda would be patiently waiting outside, ready to listen to any command he may have. Not today. Ozpin had sent her on a reconnaissance mission. One she was drastically over qualified for and she made she he was aware of it. He was glad at the turn of events though, as it meant he wouldn't have to convince her to let him go alone.

Eventually huntsman reached the main elevator, one that went to the deepest basements the Beacon held. He would be going even lower. He entered the door and looked over to the panel. The place he needed to go was not listed and would likely remain so for the rest of his days. Opening up one of the panels on the elevator he withdrew a wire from his pocket and connected his scroll. Immediately a program popped up on the screen, one that Ozpin had hoped he would never have to use. He placed his hand firmly on his device as it read his palm, identifying him as the headmaster of Beacon moments later. With a sudden jolt, the elevator began to slide down the shaft.

The headmaster waited. Ten minutes became twenty, and soon forty minutes had passed with the elevator monotonously gliding downwards. Ozpin had never been to the floor he was going to but he knew just barely of the secrets it held.

A long forgotten power in a longer forgotten place. Those were the words used to describe his destination.

After what seemed like an eternity he stopped. The doors slowly opened and revealed a long, blackened hallway. He stepped out of the compartment and strode forward, his shoes clicking on the marble walkway. Massive pillars as wide as a house were erected on either side of him and continued down the length of the walkway, holding what seemed like the entire world above. With a small amount of concentration he magnified his aura to a small glow around his person so that he could better see in this monument under his school.

His progress was halted when he came upon a door. One that matched the pillars in both magnificence and size. Across its entire face was an intricately carved masterpiece of tiny crevices and caverns that could not fully be seen in the barely lit hallway. It would take a hundred men, aura and all to even get the obstacle to budge. But force wasn't what was necessary here. Instead it was proof. Proof that Ozpin could bear the task that was ahead of him.

The headmaster of Beacon pressed his palms against the weighty door, feeling the designs brush against his fingers. As if on instinct he knew what was required to open it, as if the task was a memory just waiting to be recalled. Closing his eyes, he began to flare his aura, genuinely unleashing everything he had within him into the towering metal gateway. For what felt like hours he sent his power flowing through the door, hoping it would be enough. Finally, darkness began to take hold of the hall as his power waned. Ozpin fell to his knees, spent. There were few who could match Ozpin in his strength, and fewer who had the same amount of aura, yet the entrance did not yield.

Was it not enough? Have I failed before I even began?

Just as he was second guessing himself a new radiant beam of light began to trace its way across the door. Starting from his hands the entire entryway was soon aglow, fully revealing the image that was sculpted upon it.

Roots...no a tree. It is a large tree.

His thoughts couldn't do the picture in front of him justice as a new sound echoed in the forgotten halls. A split appeared in the middle of the grand design in front of him. A gust of air, an untold number of years old escaped from beyond its seal. It took a long time for the doors to open enough for Ozpin to fit, but he didn't mind the rest.

The gray haired man brushed off his clothes when it was time for him to move into the adjoining room. It was unclear what was sealed within but with what he needed to do to get in he could only imagine the possibilities. The gate was several meters thick and it was almost like he entered an alleyway as he walked between the massive doors.

He continued his way forward, passed the gateway that had sealed him out. The marble seemed to melt away into some kind of sand. He remained steady on his feet as he saw something deeper into the room. In the distance, he spotted the faintest orange glow on the ground. He moved toward it as soon as it entered his vision, only pausing when his foot kicked something solid.

Looking down, Ozpin took in the sight of a blade. Not one that you would see on the hip of a modern day huntsmen but one that you might imagine from a fairy tale. He reached down and picked up the artifact, realizing that it was not solitary in its confinement. As he scanned the massive room he could see hundreds, if not thousands of weapons sticking out of the ground. A cemetery of ancient weapons.

Letting the sword drop from his hand Ozpin regained his focus. He continued toward the light source, realizing from the gray hue of the ground that it was not sand, but ash upon which he was walking. Upon finally reaching the subdued light he saw that it was the remnants of a flame. One that was just barely alive and only strong enough to show itself in the darkest of rooms. How it existed in a sealed room, Ozpin couldn't begin to guess. A sword stood proudly above the lingering flame. Around its base was a kindling composed of what looked to be bones.

Not the best of omens. Ozpin thought absently.

Despite the deadness of the air around him he could feel his very soul being drawn to this blade. Steeling himself he reached out a single hand and grasped the hilt.

Images flashed before his eyes. Ages long passed and yet still in existence. A boundary of distortion ensuring that there was never true rest for its inhabitants. A woman's voice, somehow both young and old rang in his ear. Their words mingled and became nothing but gibberish, however Ozpin was able to grasp onto a few.

Chosen Undead….Monarch….Unkindled….Link of the flame….

The headmaster could not hope to grasp the scope of what he was being shown be he was able to understand enough. The Age of Fire as it seemed to be called, has long been over, its cycle continually being broken and renewed in what seemed like a world of its own. But in this world, remained the strongest and bravest of warriors. Some waiting for eternity to end, others waiting for a new purpose.

One that he could provide.

Remnant needed heroes, and the hope that came with them. A military was a faceless gun but with this he could provide the citizens of Remnant with guardians beyond imagination. Ozpin poured his will into the flame, hoping to get his message across to these forgotten heroes. He struck his cane into the ash and grasped the weapon with both hands, hoping to call out to the ones Remnant needed.

Yet the flame did nothing but release a few extra embers. He let his hands fall from the blade, an uncharacteristic frown on his face.

How? How can I reach them? There has to be a wa-

Ah, now it made sense. The fire was calling for nourishment, and Ozpin was already able to tell what it needed to burn anew. It was the reason he was drawn to it in the first place.

It was no wonder why this place was so long forgotten. A heavy price would need to be paid. You cannot expect to ask for power yet give nothing in return. Yes, Ozpin understood what was required of him. He reached out toward the flame a bittersweet smile adorning his face. The red-orange glow of the dim flame began to flare as he sent what was left of his aura toward it.

The flame asked for his conditions, and the headmaster gave them.

Save the people of Remnant. Protect the Maidens. Defeat the Grimm. I ask these three things of the ones who answer my plea. Now, who will accept this covenant?

The headmaster felt the bonfire in front of him reaching out, yearning for him to nourish the flames. Ozpin obliged fully, offering his own soul to call out to the ones he needed.

And across millenia's of ages long forgotten, there were five who answered.

Vale

Deep in the forests of Vale, two glyphs sprung to life in a small parting of the trees. A circle of letters the inhabitants of Remnant could never read, signaled the arrival of the first of those who accepted the covenant.

A magnificent spear broke through the glyph, being the first piece of the warrior to enter this new land. Soon after the golden armor of two men sprouted upward, one heralding the visage of a lion, the other, the grotesque image of a face emblazoned as a helm.

Mistral

In the dark and murky swamps of Mistral, miles away from any of the scattered villages of the Kingdom, bells could be heard ringing through the wetlands. With every step a colorful man wearing a Jester's outfit was skipping his way across the mud. A forever smiling mask on his face, he began to make his way in this new world, both his hands set ablaze in fire, searching for the one he was to protect.

Vacuo:

In the middle of the desert, next to a small but flourishing oasis, a heavily robed man held his giant hat to his head as a strong breeze uprooted the loose sand on the outskirts of the greenery. Taking a moment to write down a few notes in a leather bound book at his side, he used his staff to begin forward on his new journey of knowledge.

Atlas:

On top of a building in the middle of the technological marvel of a city, an undead stood staring in awe at the sky. On his back sat a round shield, the image of a sun brightly etched on its surface. He could only gaze outward from his spot on the roof, a bucket helm sat atop his head.

"What a glorious sun this place has…"

Hello prospective readers! This was just something that was mulling around in my head that I felt like throwing out there. Aura comes from the soul, souls are basically power in the Souls series, so yeah. There isn't really a plan for it to be continued on a regular basis unless there is a demand for it. My main focus is still on my other story but I felt that I should at least put my idea on paper for anyone who's interested in it. Please tell me what you think or if I made any mistakes. A story like this would require me to heavily interpret character personalities based on lore so it would be interesting to say the least. I'm already taking huge liberties with both of the worlds in the crossover so that would be expected as well. If I was going to get serious with this story I would need to touch up this chapter a bit. Anyway thanks for taking the time to read and hope you enjoyed.

-TMDF