Greetings, everyone! This latest commission is for Dark rayquaza x, who wanted a fic taking place after Volume 3 where Pyrrha, rather than dying, is turned into a vampire. I'll be honest, this one was difficult. First, I had to figure out the exact logistics on how she'd be turned. Then, I had to fit it in with enough detail while also including the Arkos aspects. Still, this was a lot of fun and I hope you all enjoy it!

Pyrrha knew that she was about to die. So, like the warrior she had trained to be her whole life, she stared death in the face and showed no fear. "Do you believe in destiny?" she asked, proud when her voice didn't tremble. Her focus was entirely on the woman standing over her. She didn't allow herself to think about her own failure or what would happen to her friends. She especially didn't allow herself to think about Jaune. That would cause her to cry. She would not let this evil creature see her cry, no matter what.

Cinder looked down at her, golden eyes narrowed with what looked like contemplation. Then, the slightest hint of a smile came to her face. "Yes. And it appears that yours isn't to die today."

A hand that felt like a brand of fire touched Pyrrha's cheek, and the world froze. She couldn't scream, couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

A low rumble rose around her, and she realized that it was the dragon. The Grimm's enormous, grotesque face hovered close to hers. Her eyes locked with the yellow-orange orbs of the beast and she couldn't look away. She tried to move, but it was like Cinder's hand was attached to her skin.

An image flashed in her mind. For a moment, she saw the form of a woman. Her eyes were black and her face was twisted and skull-like, similar to that of a Grimm. She was smiling a smile that held no warmth.

"Welcome, Pyrrha."

The voice slithered into Pyrrha's mind like a disgusting, oozing thing seeping from the crevices of some deep cavern. With it came a strong compulsion to obey, to give in to the vileness of the being that had spoken.

Pyrrha fought it, jerking desperately against Cinder's hand. No! she thought, narrowing her eyes. Get out! Even death was better than what was happening to her now! More pictures went through her mind. She saw herself at the head of a Grimm army, devouring humans and Faunus with relish. She saw herself kneeling before the skull-like woman.

Salem. That was her name. How did Pyrrha know that?

She bit her lip, hoping that the pain would bring her to herself again, only to wince as her teeth cut deeply into her skin, drawing blood. She took in and let out a hard breath that came out as a hiss.

Then, she heard a scream. It was a voice she recognized. Ruby! Cinder's hand left her cheek.

She turned toward her friend, only to be blinded by a flash of silver light. All at once, the images were driven out. The rumbling of the dragon was silenced. Even Cinder vanished. All that remained was Pyrrha.

On fire! I'm on fire! Her skin was burning. The silver light was hurting her! Where was Ruby? Had she imagined hearing her friend? She tried walking toward where the voice had been, only to get pushed back by a pulse of light. Her face began to flake away.

Must get away! Must… Blindly, she lurched away from the light, only to stumble from the edge.

She opened her mouth to scream. A Nevermore flew at her, talons outstretched. Then, everything went black.

…..

Pyrrha awoke to an unbearable thirst and the sound of whispering. She groaned, curling up and covering her ears as several voices pierced her skull.

"What do?"

"One of us. This one. Where from?"

"Mistress. No touch."

Covering her ears wasn't helping. Pyrrha opened her eyes and tried to sit up, intending to ask whoever was talking to kindly be quiet, and was greeted with a canopy of trees overhead. She frowned in confusion. Where am I?

Then, her memories flooded back. She remembered the tower, Cinder, the light, and then falling…

"Jaune!" She stood up, only to fall back to the ground as a wave of dizziness swept through her head.

She placed a hand on her brow. Ugh. I must have hit my head. I just need to be calm. She ran a tongue over her dry lips, taking several deep breaths. First, you need to find water. Then, figure out where you are. Then, figure out how to find the others.

With that plan in mind, Pyrrha stood up slowly, leaning against a nearby tree. She looked around, listening for any sign of running water.

Halfway through turning her head, however, she froze. Standing in the shadows a few yards away was a Nevermore. She could see the great bird's outline as well as the glow of its inhuman eyes. Instinctively, she reached for Miló, only to remember that she had lost it and Akoúo̱ during the battle. She started to tremble. Was she about to die alone in the forest so soon after avoiding death mere hours earlier?

"Mistress must drink. Must drink to live. Yes, yes."

Pyrrha's eyes darted around before returning to the Nevermore. Who was talking to her? And why weren't they more concerned with the presence of a Grimm?!

"Mistress must drink," the voice repeated. It was a low, raspy sound that made Pyrrha think of a forest floor at night, when a traveler couldn't be sure if something with teeth was going to crawl into their shoes.

This time, she noticed the Nevermore's eyes briefly turn brighter. Her mouth became even drier. "Wh-What?" she whispered.

The Nevermore fluttered its wings. "Mistress must drink, or Mistress will die. Servant can find drink. Yes, yes?"

I'm delirious, Pyrrha thought numbly. I hit my head and am having hallucinations. She shook her head slowly. Well, if this is a dream, then I'd might as well imagine some water. "Yes, please. Find me a drink."

The Nevermore bowed its head before disappearing into the trees. Pyrrha stared at the spot where it had been, wondering if it had even been there in the first place. She took a shaky step forward, only to stumble, barely catching herself on another tree.

Okay. I'll wait for the hallucination to bring me water. She rubbed her head as another dizzy spell took her. I'm going crazy. Maybe I'm in a hospital bed somewhere, and they're trying to revive me. Are the others there?

Thinking of her friends chased away some of the wooziness. A breeze rustled through the trees, hitting her face with a pleasant coolness.

She heard a noise and turned in time to see the Nevermore returning. It held something in its beak, which it tossed in her direction. "Drink, Mistress. Yes, yes. Good drink. Good servant."

Pyrrha let out a gasp and recoiled, eyes widening. The Nevermore had brought back the corpse of a deer. Waves of heat emanated from it, telling her that it had just been killed.

Fresh. The thought came out of nowhere, along with an overpowering sensation: thirst, thirst beyond anything Pyrrha had ever felt before. It was stronger than when she would exercise for hours and forget to drink. It was worse than that one recon mission she had gone on with her team, when their water bottles had been lost during a fight and they'd had to rough it until they found a stream. It was a thirst that drove away her disgust and caused her to focus wholly on the carcass in front of her and the rapidly-chilling blood within.

Her mouth opened and she lunged forward, sinking her teeth into the dead beast's throat. She clamped down, closed her eyes, and began to drink.

The blood was salty and rusty. The coldness of death had started to seep in, fouling the taste, but not enough to make her stop. There was a watery quality, which she sensed came from more herbivorous creatures. She could also detect the sweet tang of adrenaline. The deer had known its fate right before meeting it. The taste filled Pyrrha, along with a feeling of replenishment that caused her to moan with satisfaction.

When the deer was completely dry, Pyrrha let go, panting loudly as she backed away on all fours, still relishing the new feelings flowing through her body. She felt stronger than she ever had before. She could fly through the air! She could run faster than Ruby!

Yet again, thoughts of her friends were what called her back to reality.

Retching, she stumbled away from the corpse, putting a hand to her mouth. What did I just do?!

In the shadows, the Nevermore cawed quietly. "Mistress angry. Bad drink? Bad servant?"

Trying to regain some control of her heartbeat, Pyrrha turned to the Grimm. "Are you talking to me?" she asked, her voice taking on a hysterical edge. What in the world was happening to her?!

The Nevermore nodded. "Yes. Talk to Mistress. Serve Mistress. Can't hear other Mistress, so you are Mistress now. Yes, yes."

Other Mistress? The vision of the skull-faced woman named Salem returned unbidden to Pyrrha's mind. She thought back to what had happened on the tower. The creeping female voice had been similar to that of this Nevermore. What did they do to me?!

Taking a shuddering breath, Pyrrha looked the Nevermore in the eye. "If you listen to me, then tell me where there is a pool of water nearby."

The Nevermore hopped over, black feathers ruffling. It seemed almost delighted. "Follow servant. Will lead well. Yes, yes."

Pyrrha wasn't sure what she had been expecting when she looked at her reflection a few minutes later. Maybe she had hoped that the dream would end before she reached that point. Maybe she hoped that she would see herself, but no Nevermore, proving that she was delirious.

What she didn't expect was a pale, skull-like imitation of her face staring back at her. Her green eyes had a sickly, yellowish tinge to them. Black, vein-like stripes decorated her white skin and wove down her bare arms like spiderwebs. Worst of all, when her mouth dropped open in horror, the first thing she saw was a set of sharp, blood-coated fangs.

She began to tremble. "What…? What am I?"

"You are Mistress," the Nevermore piped up. "You are touched by other Mistress. Was made from Great Dragon Mother. Was made to be slave, but became Mistress. Servant can sense other Mistress in you, but you are own Mistress. Stopped hearing other Mistress when saw you. Saved you. Your servant now. Not hers."

Pyrrha nodded slowly, trying to wrap her head around what was happening. If she understood correctly, Cinder had done something to her that night. Somehow, Pyrrha had been connected to the Grimm dragon and that skull woman. That had somehow merged her with the dragon, turning her into…whatever she was now.

I'm a creature who looks like a monster, drinks blood, and speaks to Grimm, she thought despairingly. I've become one of the things I'm supposed to be fighting.

She needed to get away. She needed to figure things out. She needed to find Jaune. She needed…

A fresh stab of thirst struck the center of her chest, and her eyes flashed. All other thoughts left her mind, just as they had when she had seen the deer. Hunt, she thought, her face becoming cold. First, I need to hunt.

She turned to the Nevermore, which perked up attentively under her gaze. In a dead voice, she spoke to it. "Follow me, servant. I'm still thirsty."

…

Weeks passed. Fall turned to winter and prey grew scarce.

Still, Pyrrha did not starve. The Boarbatusks taught her how to root in the dirt for smaller creatures. The Beowolves showed her the best spots to dig and find hibernating animals. One day, her favorite Nevermore servant returned to her with a prize: a human.

Pyrrha had found the puny being's throat immediately. An entirely new sensation filled her. It was like tasting pure water for the first time after a lifetime of sipping mud. The fact that this human had been dead for hours didn't matter. Even stale, this blood was sweeter than anything else Pyrrha had tasted up to that point. She needed more.

Urged by this new desire, she started to seek humans. The Nevermore brought her a few more, but they were already dead by the time they reached her. She needed new blood. She needed live blood. The forest was too deep, though. There were no live humans to be found.

That is, there were none until one day.

Pyrrha smelled them long before she heard or saw them. They were traveling down a desolate trail that was little more than a deer path. A catlike smile crossed her face as she climbed into one of the trees.

If this had been any other hunt, she would have rushed through the forest until she found them. Then, she would have torn them to pieces one by one before they could even scream in terror. That was how it was with the deer, wolves, and mountain lions.

However, something was telling her to savor this moment. There would not be many more humans coming this way, so it made sense to have some fun before making the kill. Besides, playing with them would give their blood more adrenaline when she got to taste it. Her mouth watered at the thought.

She peered through the branches as her quarry finally came into view. There were four of them in all. Two were relatively small and one was pretty skinny with a sleepy face. The fourth one, however, immediately attracted her attention.

He was tall and had broad shoulders. He was a bit scrawny, but the sweet aroma that drifted to Pyrrha from him more than made up for that.

She inhaled deeply, letting out a sigh. The smell clouded her mind and lingered on her tongue. It was like honey. It was like the smell that lingered minutes after a fruit vendor walked by at a farmer's market. It was pure, sweet rapture.

Farmer's market… For a moment, Pyrrha saw a bustling crowd and smelled fresh produce from a time years ago.

Then, a caw from her Nevermore servant called her. He had found her a deer to stave off her hunger while she stalked her new prey. She tilted her head, chuckling quietly. That creature was just so dedicated.

…..

Pyrrha specifically forbade her Grimm servants from attacking the four humans. These prizes were hers and hers alone!

Of course, there were Grimm outside her control that showed interest in hindering her prey. She was quick to deal with them. Whenever she defeated one, she would see a brief flash of the skull-faced woman, Salem, before her mind was her own yet again.

I am no one's servant, she thought defiantly. Your slaves won't spoil my fun!

Fun was an interesting word for what her hunts were becoming. They were certainly enlightening, if nothing else. One thing was for certain: Even if the others got away or died, she needed to have the blond young man, and she had to taste him while he was alive. His blood would be the sweetest of all. There would be nothing to match it, no matter what else she hunted in the future.

That was why she let him live for so long. It had nothing to do with the strange images that surfaced whenever she watched her prey. They were odd, intoxicating images of crowded buildings, thrilling battles, and an even more exhilarating moment filled with music and a set of strong, familiar arms. Sometimes, she would remember a softness on her lips, and the images accompanied with that sensation would almost cause her to pause and wonder exactly what she was doing.

Her fascination certainly had nothing to do with how much she loved listening to the boy's soft, gentle voice, relishing the strangely-sad pleasure that she felt whenever it touched her keen ears. It was familiar somehow; both the voice and the sad/happy feeling that accompanied it.

As the days went by, she found herself becoming bolder. She ran above their heads in the trees, causing them to look up in alarm. She'd creep close to the camp at night and let the firelight hit her white face for a split second before retreating. Sometimes, one or more of them would draw their weapons and give chase. She always outran them and circled back around for more.

When they slept, she snuck through the camp, hands and bare feet making no noise as they nimbly dodged firewood and backpacks. Sometimes, she'd lean close so that her face was a breath away from one of theirs. When she was feeling particularly playful, she'd move right behind whoever was keeping watch and sit silently behind them, daring them to turn around. They never did.

One night, when the boy's scent was especially sweet, Pyrrha decided to take her first taste. She wouldn't kill him yet. She was having too much fun. But, a quick lick or nibble wouldn't do much harm.

She waited for a time when the sleepy one was keeping watch. To her delight, she saw that her prey was sleeping alone at the edge of camp. This was clearly the right night to do this.

Her entire body tingled pleasantly as she crawled through the undergrowth. Her nose twitched as his honeyed scent overwhelmed everything else. She ran a tongue over her fangs. All was silent as she closed the distance between her hiding place and the boy.

She leaned over him, looking down at his face. It wasn't relaxed with slumber, but scrunched as if he was having a bad dream of some kind. She suppressed the low, rumbling purr that tried to rise in her throat. If he only knew what hovered over him in that moment, he would be much more afraid.

Pyrrha leaned close, ready to touch her tongue to his neck and imagine the moment when her fangs would be there. Then, the memory of softness on her lips surfaced in her mind. For some reason, her mouth drifted away from his throat and toward his face.

Her lips brushed his gently. Her eyes snapped open as her body was flooded with a warm feeling she had almost forgotten. She remembered a deep sadness, pushing those trusting eyes away for the last time, and turning to meet her fate. In an instant, she was standing in front of Beacon, touching her lips to these very ones, knowing in her heart that this would be the first and last time she would feel them.

Jaune! Gasping, Pyrrha stumbled away from him. Nausea and horror filled her in equal measures, causing her to nearly run into a tree.

She heard a voice, Ren's voice, call out a warning as she ran into the trees. She couldn't jump into the branches. She was too disoriented. She just had to get away!

"Mistress being attacked. Will protect. Servant will fight! Yes, yes!"

A screeching battle-cry filled the night as the Nevermore swooped low over the trees, scattering its sharp feathers at random.

"No!" Pyrrha's blood turned to ice and she quickly called out to the Grimm in the mental voice she had learned to use. "No hurt. Humans good. Leave be."

Too late, she realized that she should have just kept referring to her friends as prey rather than good. The Nevermore began to circle in the air. Its confusion echoed in her mind. "What say? How good? Humans enemy. Feed. Prey. Must kill. Will kill!" It dove downward.

"No!" Pyrrha called desperately. "Stop!"

She felt the Nevermore reluctantly obey. "What say? Mistress?" Then, she heard the slash of a scythe before the Grimm's presence vanished entirely from her consciousness.

Pyrrha stopped running, clutching at a tree. She blinked rapidly, stunned when she felt hot tears streaking her chilly cheeks. What am I doing? she wondered. I'm mourning a Grimm of all things!

Still, the fact that she was feeling sadness at all was a relief. It meant that she was no longer the strange, murderous, cold creature she had been during those past few weeks. She took a shuddering breath, pressing her face against the bark as she sobbed. How could she have forgotten so much so easily? She thought about all she had done, how many dead humans she had feasted on.

I didn't kill them, she tried to reason.

Your Nevermore did, though. That's the same thing, the other side of her mind scolded.

Her head was pounding. She couldn't think, couldn't feel, couldn't-

Something cold touched the back of her neck. She heard an achingly-familiar, gentle, sweet voice say in an unwelcome, angry tone: "Okay, you're gonna turn around slowly. Try anything, and I'll run you through."

Pyrrha gritted her teeth, steeled her soul, and turned around. For the first time in what felt like ages, she looked into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. "Hello, Jaune," she whispered.

Jaune's mouth dropped open and his sword fell from his hand. It was a long time before he, or any of the others could even form words.

…..

Pyrrha sat a few feet away from the fire, intentionally keeping some distance between herself and the others. She could barely look at their faces as she finished telling them her story. She knew that they were looking at her with fear and disgust. She was a monster. A killer. A Grimm.

It was Ren who broke the silence after she finished. "What else can you tell us about this Salem person you saw?" Always the rational one, his mind was still on the mission.

When Pyrrha chanced a glance at his face, she saw that he looked more sympathetic than scared. That look alone almost caused her to weep. "She…was in a strange place that I've never seen before, not even in photos." She described the bleak landscape to them as much as she could. "When I kill Grimm that aren't under my control, I can see her."

"That's good, then!" Jaune said. His face was alight with an eager smile that made Pyrrha want to embrace him. "She's gotta be the person behind everything. If we find her and kill her, everything will be okay. And we might be able to make you better."

"I saw you die, though," Ruby muttered. Her silver eyes were still filled with doubt. Whenever they locked directly with Pyrrha's, the older girl was forced to look away.

"I think that's what saved me," Pyrrha said, not looking at Ruby's face. "The light distracted Cinder and kept her from transforming me completely. I can feel that I don't have all the abilities Salem has. I have some. And…this thirst."

She closed her eyes again to avoid the nervous expressions that passed over her friends' faces. Though they insisted that what she had done wasn't her fault, she knew better. The thirst was all it had taken to make her forget. What if she forgot again? What if she attacked them?

"So, you were…hunting us?" Jaune asked, his voice hitching slightly when he said "hunting."

"Yes," Pyrrha sighed. "I'm glad I waited. If I had hurt any of you, I never would have forgiven myself." She looked at them despairingly. "I'm so sorry."

Jaune stood up and quickly closed the distance between them, sitting down next to her and hugging her tightly. His scent washed over her and she had to clamp her teeth together to keep from showing her fangs. At the same time, the warmth from before filled her, allowing her to feel a sense of peace for a few seconds.

"We'll get through this," Jaune promised, resting his head on top of hers, seemingly unaware of what she was going through at that moment. "I'm just glad you're alive."

Pyrrha shook her head as she returned the hug. "Honestly, I don't even know that I am alive." She snuggled closer to Jaune, using the warmth to push back the thirst. "But, thank you."

Even though she didn't need sleep, the others still took turns taking watch throughout the night. They didn't completely trust her. That was good. Pyrrha didn't completely trust herself, after all.

Over the next few days, she struggled with her instincts. When the thirst became unbearable, she'd leave the group to hunt a deer or wolf. Using her powers, she kept some of the Grimm away. However, attacks grew more frequent as the other Grimm seemed to realize what she was doing. Was she causing Salem to know where they were? Would it be better if she left?

No, she reasoned. If I leave, I'll forget again and become a monster. Besides, I might be their best chance at finding and beating Salem, Cinder, and everyone else.

When she killed Grimm, she tried to see more of where Salem was. She tried to hear the other woman's thoughts. Unfortunately, her visions became briefer and briefer with time, as if this "Mistress" was catching on to her intentions.

At night, she would stay close to Jaune, whose scent aroused and punished her in equal measures. Being around him brought her close to feeling totally sane. At the same time, she continued to crave him.

Things finally came to a head when, one night when she had gone a few days without drinking, Jaune walked over and hugged her. He pulled her close and touched a comforting kiss to her cheek. "Hey. How're you-?"

Pyrrha felt her fangs against her lip and clenched her fists. Fear and hunger surged through her. "Jaune," she said in a slow, measured voice. "I need you to move away from me. Slowly."

Jaune obeyed, concern and confusion mapping his face. When he saw the way Pyrrha was looking at his neck, however, his eyes took on a fearful look. "S-Sorry, Pyrrha. I didn't mean to."

Pyrrha took a few deep breaths and bit down hard on her lip. The taste of her own blood, while not particularly quenching, called her back to herself and gave her something else to focus on. She ran her tongue over the small wound. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I haven't had any blood in days, and…my thirst is more intense toward you."

Jaune coughed and Pyrrha saw that there was an embarrassed blush on his face. Why on earth would he look like that? He should have been horrified!

"Um…if I let you drink from me," Jaune ventured, "Could you do it without killing me?"

Pyrrha gaped at him, not sure if she had heard him correctly. After blinking dumbly a few times, she managed one word: "What?"

Jaune shrugged. "I already lost you once. I'm not letting that happen again. If drinking from me would help you at all, you can consider me open game."

"Don't say that!" Pyrrha covered her ears, shaking her head desperately. "You aren't open game, Jaune! You aren't prey! I can't even think like that, or I'll…"

"Think of it differently," Jaune said. He looked like he wanted to go over and comfort her, but was thankfully holding himself back. "Remember when you unlocked my Aura by using your own? You gave up some of your strength to help me. Let me do the same for you."

When Jaune rolled up his sleeve and presented his arm to her, Pyrrha's self-control vanished. With a growl, she lunged forward, grabbing his arm and sinking her fangs in.

Her eyes rolled back with pleasure as that sweet, pure, honeyed blood finally flowed across her parched tongue for the first time. She moaned as a fiery heat coursed through her veins, similar to when Cinder had first changed her. This fire was different, though. It was nourishing and gentle, just like Jaune.

Jaune. Pyrrha's jaws opened and she stumbled away from him, putting a hand to her mouth. His arm was bleeding, but not terribly. She dared to look at his face. A dazed look of pleasure decorated his features. It was the complete opposite of the pained, terrified expression she had been expecting. "Jaune? Are you okay?"

Jaune looked at his arm. "I…yeah." He nodded slowly. "I feel…really good." He quickly shook himself, looking at her seriously. "Did that help at all?"

Pyrrha paused, taking stock of how she felt. Her thirst was gone, even though she had only taken a few sips. More than that, she didn't even feel the slightest trace of it in the back of her mind. Her thoughts were clearer than they had been in months. She took a breath, tasting the forest air. She felt almost alive again. "Yes, Jaune," she said. "Thank you."

She hesitated only for a moment before closing the distance between them and pressing her lips to his. She realized too late that her mouth was still bloody, but Jaune didn't seem to care. His arms wrapped snugly around her as he kissed back. His tongue ran across her bottom lip, where she had bitten it minutes before. She felt him tremble, but it didn't seem to be out of fear, as he only pulled her closer.

The fresh taste of blood melded with the softness of Jaune's lips. Pyrrha smiled and nestled closer, savoring the warmth that filled and surrounded her. In that moment, everything was right with the world.

Of course, nothing good was destined to last.

That night, Jaune woke up screaming, clutching his arm. Sweat drenched his face and his eyes were wide and fearful. Pyrrha's gaze fell on his arm. It was white and the first few traces of a black spiderweb pattern were beginning to form from the now-healed bite.

The others were fully awake. Their weapons were drawn and they were looking from Jaune to Pyrrha in horror. Crescent Rose was pointed directly at Pyrrha's head.

"What did you do to him?!" Ruby shouted, her silver eyes shining with tears as she watched her friend writh on the ground.

Pyrrha shook her head helplessly. She felt one of her Beowolves nearby. Desperate, she called out to it. "What's happening? What do I do?"

The Beowolf's reply was excited. "Sense new Master. Good Master. Finish turning human to Master. You drank from him. He drinks from you."

Pyrrha nodded slowly before looking at Ruby. "I'm sorry. Let me help him." Slowly, she moved close to Jaune, aware of Ruby continuing to point her scythe at her. Using her fangs, she opened a vein in her wrist.

Jaune's frantic eyes fixed immediately on the pulsing wound. With a crazed gasp, he grabbed her arm and put his mouth to the cut, drinking deeply. As he did, Pyrrha watched the white and black spreading further up his arm.

Her eyes closed as she felt her blood leaving her body and becoming a part of Jaune's. She could sense a new connection forming between them. It was the spiritual bond of their Auras now coming together in a bond of blood.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune's thought was scared, but Pyrrha was thrilled when she heard it.

"I'm here, Jaune," she replied, making her mental voice as soothing as possible. Despite her fear and the draining sensation of losing blood, she managed to smile. "Don't worry. We will get through this, one way or another."

Jaune released her arm and backed away. When he looked up at her, his beautiful blue eyes were tainted with the yellowy sickness of the Grimm.

Vampires are often either turned just by being bitten and drained, or by having a blood exchange. I decided to go with the Anne Rice approach and have Jaune start to turn after Pyrrha bit him and he licked her still-bleeding lip. I had a lot of fun with the idea of Pyrrha being in control of Grimm. The talking Nevermore came completely out of nowhere when I was writing, but I'm glad it did. I might explore this AU further in the future.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this, especially you Dark rayquaza x! Peace out.