Chapter 1: All I Ever Learned from Love

Co-writer: Mike, the Remnant Paladin

Rain dripped off her face.

A giant mouth in the earth, it's rocky teeth a haunting precursor to the cold darkness below. Ilia's feet hung limp; willing herself to curl her toes didn't bring any feeling back. As if the controls to her body had been switched off. A light twitch made it clear her arms survived too, and after a cold, chalky breath, she concluded that she wasn't dead.

Vision came and went, rain seeped into her eyes, coaxing her to close them for good. Cold air scratched her belly, stomach torn open by one of the car doors as the train went off the rails. If any of her organs hung out, she was glad she couldn't move her head enough to see it.

Was this what dying felt like? Cold and silent with naught but as stray seat hung by the door keeping her taut? Ilia couldn't even say how long she'd been there... was this the first time she woke up? The second?

"H-help..." Her raspy voice went unheard.

Ilia whimpered as something shot through her. As though a knife twisting through her stomach every time the wind blew too hard. Something wet spurt inside her, but she couldn't summon the will to see how bad it was. She cried with the clouds, The burn in her stomach a hard contrast to the icy, tempting hands of sleep. Her fingers twitched, hungry to grab something. Someone. Anyone.

"-ia!"

Maybe there wasn't a point in struggling. It was for the best that she died now... all in all, it wasn't the worst way to die. Most people either wanted to go silently or in glory. Ilia didn't have a preference. Maybe a quicker one - that'd have been nice.

"- on! I - oming!"

Who was that?

The steel bars suspending Ilia rattled like rats skittered across them. Was the train going to give way? That should've been terrifying but with hope, when it hit the ground it would either crush her or explode. Then she heard something. A scuffle, a jump, a heavy crash against the train car. And suddenly there was movement in her face. It touched her face, and the feeling enough convinced her to lean into the warmth. Slicked hair, blood running down his face, he looked worse for wear. And yet blue eyes shined in the night with the same charge she saw since day one.

She croaked, her voice lost. Hopefully what words she could get out were enough - he was an idiot for coming back for her. "I won't," he denied, throwing her arm over his shoulder. Strong arms wrapped around her back, somehow gentle despite her weight and awkward angle. Her chest pressed against his, and his quick heartbeat provoked hers to match it, "Hold on."

But how could she? Maybe it was time that she died. Its not like she really had a purpose in this life. What would she do? Make a better world for the faunus? What would a weakling like her accomplish? They were better off without her…

Ilia could always remember the bad things she'd done. But not many good. There was regret, no matter how much she wished there wasn't. Whatever sins she commited were far past forgiveness. Maybe this was her punishment.

"Ilia please," the blonde huffed desperately, using his free arm to bring her closer, "Wrap your legs around me. I'll get you out of here, you've gotta trust me, okay?"

Trust? A human?

The very notion was against everything the Fang taught her. Humans were selfish - they'd step on and kick down anyone if it got them what they wanted. Why did this guy even care? They weren't friends, she was just some nobody to him. He didn't need to save her, so why was he wasting his time?

Ilia tried to see him, look at his face to find the truth. It was a trick of her mind surely, just a last ditch hope that her brain played to ease her inevitable fate. But the warmth it just... it felt too real. Too tangible to be a dream.

"I... I don't wanna..." she struggled to get out, but seemed that her rescuer knew what she wanted to say.

"And you won't." he promised, "Just hold on to me. I'd never leave you, okay?"

He'd never leave her. Ilia's lips trembled at such a silly, and yet hopeful promise. It was impossible to uphold. But she wanted to believe. Just a little, just for a minute.

The girl buried her chin in the crook of his neck, weakly but surely, securing her legs around his waist. With one arm supporting her and the other taking them up, Ilia hoped he could hear the last thing she whispered before the world vanished.

~event horizon~

"Should be down this street...?"

Ilia scanned the neighborhood. An assortment of traditional and modern homes built at the edge of the roads and in the sides of the mountain. It was a quaint little area, sparse of people since it was so far from the city. The girl adjusted her jacket as the wind blew, watching as leaves of red, brown and yellow rode the current.

Ilia considered and reconsidered the option of turning back. Try her luck at another job. The logical side of her spat at the notion, kicked it into the dirt until it was buried, never to surface again.

Short of working on the seedier side of Mistral, Ilia hadn't found a more lucrative option. The girl looked at her license, a badge more-like. The process had been uncannily quick - surprisingly tolerant despite their location. But then, were there many faunus that sought out such dangerous work?

The pure irony left her feeling like she'd bitten into a rotten apple.

That was only reason she was taking such a silly job. Fighter or not, she didn't crave excitement or treasure hunting. But stationed here in Mistral with nowhere to stay and to only wait on orders - it wouldn't be long before she was desperate enough to look for work.

But then she heard the Archivist Company was always welcoming. A mere walk-in, interview and waiver sign later, and she was officially a member. She thought it would have been simple after that, but apparently the company had started doing coaching regimes for starters two months ago. And for newbies, they were required to be approved for unsupervised expeditions.

Which set her on the path to her coach's home. The leader of Team Horizon, Jaune Arc.

To say they were popular in the Archivist community was an understatement. Media followed him practically everywhere. Ilia could remember a few times she'd seen them, and even heard people in the Fang meetings sometimes mention them in passing. They were home celebrities in their own right, which was awkward as it was, as Ilia wasn't sure how they were supposed to train her with cameras up their asses.

That, and the fact that they were human.

To say this was uncomfortable was an extreme understatement. Her request for a faunus trainer had thankfully been considered, but sadly none were available. But then she was assured that Team Horizon was full of kind people. Among the best she could get. No room to argue after that.

But as long as it made her money, then she supposed she could handle it. And this was the best, if not her only, option to get food on her table. Or at least a table. Baby steps.

It was then that she saw it, her scroll prompting her destination. A decently sized home alongside a few others built into the side of the mountain. Cobblestone steps took her to the door, where she hesitated.

It's fine. You'll be fine. Ilia took a breath before knocking gently.

Within seconds, the door was opened, and Ilia's eyes widened as she looked up into icy eyes. A woman with short cut hair, mercilessly devouring every chip she pulled out out the bag. "Wassup, spots."

Ilia bit her tongue, hoping she hadn't seen a trace of a smirk. Thankfully, before more could be said, a rough hand cut between them and pushed the woman aside. "Vernal!" said the blonde, "You could not be a total jerk to strangers, you know?"

The girl walked off. "She'll get over it, Jaune. It was just a joke, right?"

Ilia mumbled, ignoring the desire to glare. And the desire only grew as Jaune turned to her, a smile plastered on his face. "I'm sorry about her, you're Ilia Amitola, right?"

She nodded, eyes scouring about him. He was certainly the same person she'd seen and heard about. It was almost surreal that he lived not even an hour away from her. He shook her hand with a smile, "I'm Jaune Arc. My study is downstairs, come on in."

Just like that? It felt like stepping into an unknown land, crossing the boundary that kept her from running home. The door sealed shut, taking away her final chance of escape. "Want a drink?" he asked.

His home wasn't exactly a mansion, but with how nice it looked, Ilia couldn't blame herself for being fooled for a moment. The spacious living room gave way to a group of people playing games with each other. The rude girl bitched again as she played with a few others. Ilia instantly noted the tattoo on her left arm. A bandit mark? Why did Jaune have bandits in his house?

Why are you, a terrorist, in his house? Ilia shook the thought off.

Others were varied, some people his age. Maybe Haven students. An older man, sat in a recliner long since passed out. A bottle or two spilled onto the carpet. All in all, it didn't look very special. Just something like a game day or whatever.

"I win!" A girl with blue hair cheered, a victorious finger calling out Vernal, "Pay up, bitch!"

"Ugh, this game sucks. Why do I even come here?" Vernal threw the controller across the room, not batting an eye as it left a dent in the wall and the controller itself destroyed.

Jaune merely rolled his eyes and walked led Ilia to staircase below. "It's quieter down here," he said, "Sorry about my little mini-party, everyone decided to come over today."

"It's... fine." Ilia said, ignoring the sound of yet another crash, was this guy just okay with people wrecking his property? Or, dear god, was this normal?

The narrow staircase eventually opened up, revealing the pure opposite of her first impression of the house. It was still and homey, with shelves of books lining the back wall. A large round table sat at the center with a few chairs around it. It was wreck all by itself, a lake of maps, scrolls and tools strewn around messily.

A woman sat with her feet propped on the desk and a kid moved with the haste of a man on fire, scribbling this, adjusting that. Had their footsteps not alerted them, Ilia could swear he'd never leave the world he was so engaged in.

"Guys, this is Ilia. Our trainee." Jaune introduced.

The younger boy was the first to shake her hand, an admittedly cute smile on his face accentuated by the freckles. He couldn't have been older than thirteen though, could a boy his age even work for the Archivists? "Oscar Pine - navigator and translator."

The girl saluted from her perch, if she cared about being friendly, it didn't show. "Amber - designated ass-kicker, obligatory vagina of the party."

"Amber…" Jaune smacked his forehead.

Okay…? Ilia nodded at them both, unsure of what to say back. She chose something simple. "It's nice to meet you... I hope I won't be a problem for you."

"You aren't,and we're glad to help." Jaune waved it off, "Right, Amber?"

"I'm bound by contract to agree with everything my leader says."

Oscar chuckled at the girl's snark. Ilia couldn't be sure if she was joking or not. Soon enough she was seated and the clock moved like molasses. Even with the noise of upstairs gone, Ilia shifted awkwardly from time to time, staying attentive but all too aware of the minutes ticking by.

"A lot of what we do is freeform. They aren't so much rules - I guess I should say its more like a guideline. What'll get you killed and what won't. We call them 'missions', but they're mostly self-imposed excavations. No cost for failure, and rewards vary based on what we find." Jaune scratched his head with a grin, "So... not the most consistent job. People sometimes go weeks or even months just following up a lead."

Not exactly what Ilia favored, but she could tolerate a few weeks if she got somewhere soon. "Is it the same for you?"

"Most of the time, no. We try to go after what we know we can find."

He didn't sound unconfident, and neither of his teammates contested it. But if she hadn't been convinced then, she found a collection of awards the top shelf. One Year Mark. Most Successful Rookie Team. There were quite a few others too.

"So, is that all?" Ilia asked, "Like, teaching-wise?"

"Pretty much. There really isn't much to teach that you won't learn on your own. But since you'll be joining us on our next search, once that's done that should clear you to work on your own."

"And what is it we're looking for?"

The faunus jumped as the table rattled. Before her, a book laid wide open and Oscar's finger drew her eyes to the page. A man, no, a bird? With feathers under his arms, the man floated carelessly on golden clouds supported by underlings. He played a flute, its song entrancing all those around him.

Wait... a man with bird wings and golden clouds? But that was just a legend - a silly story people told wide-eyed children. Surely there was no way it could be real. Surely. "The Trove of Utahiko."

Seventy wealthy families had one day gone broke, their gold and silver swept away from them without so much as a whisper. The Mistral Emperor took precautions, but not even his impenetrable castle was safe. His precious vault was pilfered of every scrap of treasure ever compiled by the family's thousand year reign.

Security, soldiers, defenses... it all amounted to nothing. For a thief so soft and quiet the populace swore he walked on clouds. And in his pursuit, not once was blood spilled. It sounded like a myth. It was supposed to be a myth. Was Jaune serious about this?

"I know its a common story," Jaune said, taking back the book, "But we don't believe that on pure faith, we actually have something tangible to work with."

"Which is?" Ilia asked, leaning closer.

Jaune showed her a small notebook, unfurling old scroll paper written in a language she couldn't read. "These are some excerpts from interviews of Utahiko's victims that had been under his control at the time. And some of their recollections."

"Interviews?" Ilia's eyes widened, "But if they had people to confirm its the truth, why hasn't it been found yet?"

"That's just it, there isn't any real confirmation," Jaune explained, "The flute thing Utahiko used distorted the way people recall memories. So they could only offer so much. And with little to work with, every recorded search so far had explorers in circles."

"So what makes you think you can do better?"

"Intuition? A good hunch? I dunno, we have a penchant for getting lucky." Amber drawled with a yawn.

Ilia somehow doubted that, but who was she to know? While she was still reeling at the possibility of a fairy tale being real, the rest of them took it like morning coffee. They had to be desperate, maybe even hopeful.

But maybe not... A hopeful thought betrayed.

"The theory we're working with is that Utahiko hid the treasure all over Anima. So finding all of it is a pipe dream. But we're aiming for the most prominent treasure Utahiko stole - the Mistral King's famous giant sapphire, the Blue Gorgon," Jaune showed a picture, a tall and somehow smooth jewel in the shape of a screaming woman, "While its not worth the value of the total treasure - it does make up an eighth of it."

"And what does that amount to?"

"Two million."

Ilia's jaw dropped. And it was through conscious effort that no drool followed. That... was way more than she needed! Such a possibly should have been exciting, but once the value of the treasure was put to scale, she could only wonder if the difficulty and danger to find it would match. Anything that valuable had to be near impossible to gain. Just finding that one thing would set her for a lifetime.

The things she could do... she could get her own home. Go back to school. The possibilities were endless. "Are you sure you can find it?"

"I mean, we try not to make promises," Jaune said, "But we do think that there is a real possibility. We have met dead ends before though."

Not the answer Ilia was looking for, but she appreciated the honesty. "So where do we go from here?" she said, a hint of energy.

"Eastborne."

"That was back where the original capital used to be," Oscar continued, "The first interview leads brings us there, which means there has to be something there that previous explorers missed. The ruins maybe."

"Oh..." Ilia's gaze fell, "alright, that's fine."

"Is something wrong?" Jaune asked with a bit too much concern.

"No, I'm okay, I'm just excited, I guess."

He eyed her curiously for a second, but any pressure to rescind her lie was alleviated when he spoke again. "Uh well, alright. Then we'll be leaving the day after tomorrow. Early in the morning. Does that work for you?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Then you're all caught up, that's literally everything we can explain to you. I probably missed some stuff but well, you'll be with us a while."

Hopefully not. But until then, Ilia swung her bag over her shoulder. "Right. Then, I'm going to head home - it's getting late."

Up the staircase, past the mayhem and a smile and wave from Jaune saw Ilia on the road again. Her lips pursed as she considered it all. Not a bad meeting - they were kind, and didn't show any apprehension.

You're doing this for money. Not to make friends. Ilia reminded herself, pushing back any thoughts that dared dream otherwise.

As the sky grew dark, so too did the roads. Everyone walked the same soil in Mistral, but the houses were the real indication of wealth. Where the nicer homes began to dwindle, so too did the freshness of the air. Gone was the clean breeze, replaced by grime and ash. Run down homes, convenience stores, uneven streets and seedy clubs took to the slums as a lion to the savannah. Dealers ran the alleys, and off the sides of the road, streetlamps rarely kept the world alive.

And there it was, a lone one displaced from its brothers somehow. She'd always stop to greet it, to watch it's perpetual flicker as it clung to the last vestiges of life. Still kicking for now, still holding on.

But it was pointless struggle, the silly thing. Everything died. Everything left. Eventually. However long it would take her little lamp to do so didn't matter.

Giving a once over of her surroundings, Ilia leapt onto the fire escape on the side of her building. Its bottom half was long gone, which thankfully kept the chance of intruders coming in low. Rusted metal groaned as she climbed, leaping over steps that had fallen away. Then she found her window, one of the few still intact. Sliding inside, she closed it immediately to keep the warm air inside.

Home.

Humble... maybe too humble. In a way, it was better than an actual house, since the apartments were abandoned long ago. The beds were left behind, and anything that could have been stolen was already gone. A drawer was pressed up against her door. A girl got more rest when she could close both eyes. No electricity though, but maybe that was asking the universe too much.

Ilia sighed, losing her bag, boots and pants before flopping on the bed. Not the cleanest thing, but it was nothing that stealing a few new sheets didn't fix. She took in the scent, allowing it to relax her muscles. It would have been easy to just sleep then.

Pushing herself up, she tossed the rest of her clothes aside before hopping in the bath. Didn't people say cold showers were good for the body or something? Probably the words of someone who never had a hot one.

But Ilia was used to it, scrubbing away the dirt and grime of a long day before wrapping herself in a towel. Then she was in the mirror, idly tracing strands of hair as she looked at herself.

The spots, telltale of her heritage, were unappealing to say the least. Gross to most. If they didn't call her a mongrel or a mutant, then it was usually a leper. To others, the spots were a disease, a sickness.

But no, they were normal. It was just her skin. Stranger than others, but humans didn't seem to mind that their own species varied in color. What was the problem with hers? Ilia sighed a shook her head - she always asked herself that question, and always concluded that she was better off not knowing.

Opening the small refrigerator, the girl took out the bread and peanut butter. The usual dinner. It wasn't luxurious, but it didn't have to be. All it needed to do was keep her functioning. As she always did, she tallied off the day as she remembered the year-long award on Jaune's bookshelf. A year of success, money and praise.

"Lucky guy…" Ilia muttered, climbing back into bed and curling up on the pillow. A small scroll laid beside it, a dated model that had gone out of use years ago. Perfect for Fang operatives staying updated for meetings.

Things had been slow. Things had been slow for months now. At times it was infuriating, as it seemed Sienna would take forever planning new operations. Her superiors were recruiting, the last Ilia had heard of them. And sans Blake's defection, nothing notable had happened in the organization lately.

No progress, no success. Life was a still, unmoving clock. So here Ilia was, trying to turn the hands on her own. But her superiors assured her that things would be happening soon. Which meant that her branch would be stuck here until things were put together. And hopefully they would. Sitting around was not how Ilia wanted to spend her days.

But she wouldn't stress about it tonight, instead she took something off her desk. A tiny necklace left a faint glimmer in her eyes. Her parents had wanted to get her name inscribed on it, to make it more personal. Unfortunately they hadn't much money at the time. But try they did. Her mother cut up her hands just trying to get the scratchy little letters on it.

Ilia, my baby.

The smile was tiny but fleeting. The girl held the necklace tight to her breast - the tiny thing was always just enough to settle her own.

And ward off the bad dreams.

~event horizon~

"She didn't seem weird to you?"

Jaune raised an eyebrow at his partner as he picked up soda cans and snack bags lying on the carpet. Stepping over strewn about arms and legs as the freeloaders snoozed the night away. "What do you mean?" Jaune responded, dropping Reese in the recliner seat.

"She was just kinda stiff, how did you not notice that?" Amber said, "She was all curled up in on herself - anytime someone got too close, she shifted away."

"I mean, one of my sisters is like that. Maybe that's what Ilia is like."

"Maybe," Amber shrugged, "But I think its more than that. She could be afraid of us or something."

Jaune sighed. If there was any downside to living in the east, it was definitely the prominence of racism. It wasn't subtle either - protests, establishments that openly denied service to faunus, and a slew of race crimes that steadily increased with each passing year. Even back in Vale, its not like Jaune never knew faunus were treated differently in other countries. But knowing it and seeing it were completely different, he'd come to realize.

And Ilia... thankfully one of the supervisors had called to tell him about her. So much for trying to be natural and friendly - Jaune berated himself for thinking it would be that easy. "She won't be comfortable going anywhere with us," Amber added, "Maybe we should give her to someone else?"

"No," Jaune answered immediately, "That won't help. It'll just look like we can't be bothered with her. We're the only team available right now anyway."

"I know but, ugh, look. She could put us in danger if she doesn't trust us. Negativity like that festers, and you know what that will attract."

"We aren't dropping her," Jaune said a bit more sternly, stepping over a Vernal growling in her sleep, "Lets try a few outings, what's the harm?"

Amber stared at him for a moment before eventually throwing up her hands in surrender. "If you say so."

"It'll be fine," Jaune assured her, and she gave him a look, "...I think."

"Right well, when she brings Grimm onto us and we have to run away, you'd better be prepared to lovingly sacrifice yourself to save my ass."

"Lovingly sacrifice," Jaune parroted, "Poetic. Didn't take you for a reader."

"Wanna hear a better one?" Amber chuckled, nudging his shoulder as they took out the trash together. She filled her voice with the pompousness of a fat aristocrat, "Roses are red, Violets are blue... your face sucks.."

Jaune laughed. "That doesn't rhyme."

"Its free verse, dumbass. Don't insult my art!"

Amber took the lead, continually talking shit, as per usual. One woman to handle on the team was rough enough, but now he had another. Jaune had grown up with faunus in his own village, but to say he understood what they could have dealt with... he couldn't recall anything to draw experience from. So how did he make a faunus feel comfortable enough to go in the dangerous, grimm-infested wilds with a group of humans? He liked to think that the answer was simple.

And sighed at considering he could be wrong.

~event horizon~

Twelve suits flocked around a black table - a crooked glare here, a wrinkled scowl there. Displeasure to some - to others, indifference. They were small men in big seats - lots of money and ambition, but not enough callous on their hands to say they earned their way.

The head was the one to lead them. Face hidden in darkness, the barest features were made clear by the low light, hiding his eyes and face. Still, he'd seen the man smile before. In perpetuity it always felt. Constantly watching, constantly laughing - at times he wondered if blood might seep through his teeth. The blood of all who'd found themselves in his service.

"Bacchus!" The head greeted with a mirth that had, in the beginning, thrown Bacchus off. That was the line of the fishing rod. A Bacchus, desperate at the time, grabbed it hook and all.

Brisk, wide shoulders stayed firm against the scrutiny of the the court. This day was always going to come, his past few missions all but guaranteed it. It felt like he was shaking, quivering like a frightened puppy despite knowing his training ensured he never did. But infallible he wasn't. Fear could be measured in many ways.

"It has come to my attention that your recent performance has not been up to code" the head continued, "I didn't believe Mister Yagi when he reported it. A soldier of your talents could do any job masterfully. I didn't believe him for a second. And why should I? You've never given me a reason to doubt you before. Oh silly Mister Yagi, quick to point the finger."

The head gave the man adjacent from him a smile. To which latter stayed rooted in silence, hands on the table reminded Bacchus that people usually had ten fingers. Not eight.

"And yet, I find myself mourning because as it turns out: Mister Yagi was correct!" The Head snickered, "And that is a shame, he had much better handwriting than me."

"It's a consistent bug, sir," Bacchus hoped to steer the conversation toward its end, "One that has been infuriatingly difficult to squash. But I assure you, I am taking all measures needed to procure your requests."

"I'd like to believe you, but I'm afraid I have nothing to base my faith on. We don't grasp at straws now, do we?"

"I could not say."

"Pardon?"

Bacchus knew this game. Pressure the target. Get into his head. Allow him to corner himself by handing out loaded questions. Tried and true, even some of the best soldiers fell to it. Bacchus didn't consider himself exemplary, but he had resilience in spades. "Yes sir, we reach for what is real. The truth. The absolute."

"That's the spirit. Now, because Mister Yagi is such a fool for not believing in you, this is your chance to give him a hand, hell, you've already got more fingers so that's a start."

Another member of the court slid a dossier to Bacchus. The man's eyes narrowed as he scanned its contents. "The Blue Gorgon? That's a fool's errand."

"Then its perfect for you, isn't it? Find it and you will find yourself in the graces of Victorya once more. Fail to, and, well, we've made that understanding clear before." Bacchus's single eye glared from across the room. All the more heated in wishing he could snap the Head's neck, but he held the power here. Always had.

"Now, put that nose of yours to work. Sniff out the Gorgon. That is all. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Bacchus had never felt better to leave, brushing past his partner who hurriedly chased behind. "What did they say?" Undine asked.

"Nothing."

"Bach."

The man stopped, fists clenched together as he tried not to say anything. His resolve weakened when Undine stepped in front of him. Crazy woman. Followed after him since their days in the military. Atlas didn't appreciate its Specialists like it used to, which was only one of the many reasons they'd decided to leave.

Now he looked back at her, at the objective face that kept him in line. Kept him from ever going too far. Defeatedly, he answered. "We're on our last rope."

As the grave, so too was the hallway and Undine in an unbroken silence. Early winter came on through, and it pricked at Bacchus's face. The path looked endless, like every struggle Bacchus managed to put himself through. Normally Undine was the optimistic one - there was always hope. There was always a way. She'd always say that. Without fail. And Bacchus would always believe her. But belief wouldn't save them this time.

"We'll figure it out," she said, touching his arm, "We've gone through worse."

"Undine, I -

"Don't."

By the time he looked up, her lips had taken his. That same wet warmth pressed through, and he'd find himself flashing back to the looks of disgust. That somehow a human and faunus weren't supposed to be together. For a time, Bacchus cared what people thought. Undine never did.

She was the stronger of the two of them. No matter how much she denied it.

"None of that pessimistic crap, you hear?" Golden eyes reached into his, accentuating the white locks tied back into a pigtail, "We'll do whatever it is we have to and then get the hell away from here. Whatever we have to do, alright?"

Whatever they had to. Words Bacchus had grown to draw strength from. If there was any reason to fight, it was for his wife. Through the fear, the pain, the struggle - she always said the right thing to get him back on his feet. Bacchus nodded. There was no need for words, Undine wasn't the kind of woman to need some long-winded speech.

They preferred actions to words anyway.

And there it is.

Just to catch some people up, I decided to restart Romance Dawn in a different way because the first version was not appealing. It didn't have the same style I'd always wanted for Event Horizon. I feel more confident in this version. Also renamed it to simply Event Horizon: Part 2 simply because Romance Dawn felt a little cringy and strays away from the fics primary theme.

Don't fix what's not broken, right?

Ilia is a character I love. My second favorite if I'm being honest, and I've been eager to finally have her in this fic. And she fits perfectly with the themes and storylines I plan on tackling here and in the future.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and are excited for the future of Romance Dawn. This time for real.

ISA