Accendo
[akˈkɛndo ː]
I kindle or light (a fire)| I inflame or arouse

The Fall Witch doesn't murder the Maidens, no matter what tales are told outside of Patch.

Travelers passing through, who live in the safety of towns like Vale with their own protectors, don't understand. Outside, all manner of tales are told about the Fall Witch and her Fall Maidens: that she kills them, eats them, steals their soul to fuel her magic. They're wrong. She is a witch, but she is not a monster. She is their protector, she guards them from the Grimm.

The Maidens aren't sacrificed, despite what people say; it only feels that way. The Fall Witch takes them away to her tower, deep in the heart of the Darkwood. She keeps them there, away from family and friends. Ten years, she keeps them. Then the Maidens are released, free to leave the woods and return home. But she is never the same. She comes back changed; they're steely-eyed, they talk differently, and they never stay in Patch for long.

Ruby was only eight years old the last time a girl was chosen, although she doesn't remember the girl's name. Nobody likes to talk about them, once they're gone. When she returned, it was for days. As far as anyone knows, she left for Mistral before the week was out.

"The Maidens can't handle life here," Uncle Qrow had told her one day, when she twisted his arm for long enough. She'd been six or seven years old, sitting in his lap as they rode his horse back to town. He'd worn a strange frown as he spoke, looked down at her with an unusual look in his eyes. "Patch is too mundane, too tiny, for what they need."

Nobody ever talked about the Witch. She was old enough to know that it was that way for a reason. She was also old enough to know that Dad would get angry with Uncle Qrow for talking about it. But Uncle Qrow was different, he spent more time outside of Patch than in it, and he didn't care about Dad's rules. Uncle Qrow didn't much care for anyone's rules, actually.

She remembers looking up at him, brow scrunched. "What do they need?"

"Now that's the question," he had told her, smirking at her confused look. "There's a big, wide world out there to explore, kid. And Patch? It's barely a blip on the map. There's some things you just can't get here."

Ruby hadn't understood then, what he meant. She had grown up her entire life in Patch, working with Dad and Yang on the farm. The only time she'd been allowed out of town was with Uncle Qrow, when he took her hunting in the forest. At the time, she couldn't fathom it. Patch was her home, her town, her world.

She had wondered why anyone would want to leave. Everybody was afraid of the Darkwood, of the Grimm that lurked inside, but they had been afraid for generations and yet so few people left. Patch was home.

But the Maidens never stayed. They'd come home from the tower in the forest, return to their families, but it was never for long—a few days, a month, little more than that. They always left, bag full of money and jewels gifted by the Fall Witch, and made new lives.

Some travelled to Vale, to take up schooling at Beacon Academy. Others set up shops or schools of their own. Some simply got married. A rare few, she'd heard, even worked their way into the Ivory Court, where the Rulers of Vale resided. There were a few who simply disappeared, gone to different kingdoms or distant lands, who never came back to Patch. Perhaps they all found adventure, in their own way.

To be taken by the Fall Witch isn't truly a sacrifice, but it's never a happy trade. The Witch picks a girl, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, and steals her away to the tower for the next ten years.

There are ten girls in the Choosing this year, including Yang and herself.

Uncle Qrow's always been the gambler in the family, but even Ruby knows those are bad odds. There is a one in five chance that her family will lose a daughter tonight, and she knows it will tear them apart. Worse still, she's not blind to the talking, the fact that the village expects Yang to be taken, because she's the brightest and the prettiest and the most lively of them all.

The Witch doesn't necessarily pick the prettiest or the most accomplished, but she always picks the best; the smartest, the kindest, the most talented. Nobody knows how she does it, how she knows. She barely speaks during the Choosing, except to make her choice. But she always picks the best of them.

Ruby is terrified, not for herself—she's too scrawny, unassuming and awkward, she knows this, and she's sure the Witch will know it too—but for her sister.

Born a few weeks too early, Yang is twenty-one going on twenty-two, and the most fantastic person that Ruby knows. Yang's always carried herself with an easy confidence. She's as brave as they come. She's strong and smarter than people give her credit for. Yang is unlike anybody else in the village, she stands out like the sun on a cloudless day.

Yang is her world, and Ruby would give anything to make sure that Yang isn't chosen.

"You're thinking too hard."

Ruby looks up from the tree roots she's nested herself in, turns her gaze from the crimson cloak she's been wearing between her fingers. "It's not fair," there's a gnawing, empty pit in her belly.

"It's not, but we have to do it," Yang stands in front of her, hair like spun gold in the early-morning sun, carefully curled and flowing down her back. Her hands are on her hips. She's wearing her Choosing outfit—a simple white dress, modestly cut, with simple heels.

"Can't we just run away?"

Yang laughs, but it's low, sad—she knows as well as everyone else that she is the prime candidate. "'Fraid not. You know what happens then," it's a story they all know, from decades before their birth, of the Maiden who ran and doomed the village to be overrun by Grimm.

Ruby pulls her knees up to her chest, draws her cloak tight around her. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Yang kneels in front of her, even though the hem of her dress brushes the dirt. Her hands are strong as they settle across Ruby's shoulders, tight and reassuring. She looks at her, mouth open, like she wants to say something. Yang pulls her into a hug, so tight Ruby's ribs ache. "You won't."

"Yang," her throat constricts, and the pit inside her stomach only grows. Her words come out, thick, wobbly, "Promise me you'll come back. Don't—don't be like the others. You have to come back."

"I promise. I'll come back, Ruby," she whispers it into Ruby's hair, her hands rubbing her back. "It'll be alright. It's not that long."

They stay like that for a while, hugging in forest beyond their home, beyond the village boundaries. Sitting there, arms around her big sister, face buried in her neck, it feels like goodbye.

"I love you, Yang," Ruby whispers, muffled against her collar.

Yang smiles, extends a hand to help Ruby up. "I love you too, sis. Now let's go," she hesitates, just for a moment, a strange look passing through her eyes, "it's almost time. You need to change."

"Okay."

She holds Yang's hand for the first time in years and lets her sister guide her home.

Dad is on edge.

He's standing at the door when they return, pacing the length of their patio. His hair is messy, frazzled, like he's spent all day running his fingers through it. The lines around his face are suddenly deeper, they match the weary set of his shoulders.

Zwei is darting around his ankles, panting, like it's all a game. But he stops the moment he hears them, head cocking. The moment he sees them, he sprints forwards, shooting around their ankles. It's his excited barking that startles Taiyang out of his thoughts.

"Girls, you're back!" he lets out a noise of relief, easing out of his pacing, settling heavily on his favorite chair. "Thank the Gods, I thought you'd run off."

Yang shoots him a grin. "Don't worry, Dad. We just came to say goodbye to Zwei, isn't that right, boy," she laughs, light and without any of the burden that Ruby feels, and leans down to pet him—his stubby tail wags uncontrollably, and he's wiggling under Yang's vigorous petting.

Taiyang lets out a wounded noise. "Bested by a dog," he grumbles, but the lines around his eyes ease a little. "Well—"

"Glynda's probably prowling the forest," Uncle Qrow says roughly, appearing in the doorway. "She'd drag you brats back by the ears before you got very far."

"Uncle Qrow!" Ruby starts forward, a bright smile overcoming her face. "I thought you were in Vale!"

He grunts as she tackles him in a hug, but he doesn't flinch or stagger under her weight. Uncle Qrow is a Huntsman, he works for the King of Vale, although he never says exactly what it is that he does. But Ruby's seen him with a sword, seen him fight off Grimm to protect those that venture too far into the woods, and she knows that it must be something super cool.

"Got back early," he says, a tone of something more bitter than normal in his voice, as he pats her head. "Couldn't miss the big day. It's not every day you see your nieces dressed up for ritual sacrifice, after all."

Taiyang lets out a strangled, angry noise. "Qrow…"

"You know it's true," Qrow growls, sharp red eyes on him. "Most witches don't have such great taste."

It has all the flavors of an old argument, bitter notes and charged connotations. Ruby knows it is. They've had this fight a million times; over the table at dinner, in the living room after they think they've fallen asleep, loudly in the middle of her eighteenth birthday.

Uncle Qrow hates the tradition, hates the Fall Witch. Despite everything, despite the protection he knows she offers in exchange, he hates her. He's made no secret of the fact that he thinks that the Fall Witch is corrupt, that what she asks is extortion, akin to a village-sanctioned sacrifice.

Dad thinks little better of it, though. But he's filled with the fear that clouds the older generation, those that grew up on tales of how vicious the Grimm are, of what happens when they breach the borders. He hates it too, but unlike Uncle Qrow he doesn't see a way out. They either trade a girl, once every ten years, or they die.

"Now isn't the time," Dad replies harshly. "Not—not today, Qrow."

Something dark passes through Uncle Qrow's eyes, and he drops Ruby to her feet unceremoniously. He mumbles something below his breath, voice rough like gravel. He turns, disappears back inside the house, Zwei trotting inside after him.

Taiyang watches him go, the collapses back into the chair, throws his head back. He looks worn, more so than normal. Life on the farm isn't easy, but Dad's tough. It's strange to see him this shattered. It looks something like grief, written in his shoulders, like after Mom—

"Dad," Ruby settles herself on one side of him on the chair, tucks her knees up next to him, curls her head into the curve of his neck, "it's okay."

Yang makes her way up the stairs, settles on Taiyang's other side. "It's not so bad, y'know," she says, and this too is a well-worn argument, because Yang's always accepted her role. "It'll be fine, old man. You'll see."

He curls his arms around their shoulders, warm and comforting, and squeezes them against him. There's something uneven in his breathing, as he tucks his chin over top of their heads. "It's a lot of time for this old man," he says, lowly, voice thick—the sound of it makes Ruby's heart lurch, makes her struggle to breathe around the lump in her own throat. "Too long."

They're close, closer than most families. After Mom, after Dad's breakdown, after Uncle Qrow found them in that forest years ago, they've been inseparable. They work together on the farm, they eat every meal together, they always talk about their days. The only time they've been apart in years is for sleepovers.

Ten years away is ten years too long, the thought feels like lead in her belly, but she can't say that. So she snuggles into Dad's side, links her fingers with Yang's and wonders what, ten years from now, will change. She hopes this never does.

"I'll just run back here if it gets too boring," Yang declares, clutching Ruby's hand tight. "The Fall Witch is no match for a Xiao Long!"

"Or a Rose!" Ruby pipes in.

Taiyang squeezes them tighter, laughs a warm, full-bodied laugh. "That's the ticket, girls. You'll both always have your old man. Just say the word, we'll kick her butt. We'll sic Uncle Qrow on the Grimm—heh, the smell alone'll be enough to drive them back to the woods!"

There is an angry, strongly-worded shout from inside that house that makes them all crack. They collapse over each other, laughing, crying, sharing their (hopefully not) last moments as a full family together.

Sunset finds them in the center of Patch, standing in the town square. There is ten of them, lining up beneath Glynda Goodwitch's fierce glare. Parents and townspeople stand in groups behind them. There is no talking. Nobody is in a talking mood.

To the north, past where they all stand, a cobblestone road winds its way out of town, into the woods beyond. The road leads to the docks in the north, where one can travel to Vale for trade. But they aren't expecting a trader, they are expecting the Witch. She always appears at the same time, just before sundown, once every ten years. Nobody ever sees her before or after.

Ruby swallows, fisting her hands in the soft fabric of her dress. She'd loved it, the day Miss Mauve finished sowing it for her, had adored the black-lined-crimson dress and how the silky material felt between her fingers. Now, today, it is nothing more than a source of anxiety. She feels naked, bared, without her cape.

At her right side, Yang stands, staring defiantly out into the distance. To her left, she finds Nora, who for once doesn't look bubbly or excited; she's shifting from foot to foot, glancing back at Ren, her best friend, constantly.

"Eyes ahead," Glynda tells her, pushing her chin forward. "You mustn't do anything to provoke her. Any of you," she deliberately breaks off, looking at Yang. "The Witch is not needlessly cruel, but…you would do well not to inspire her anger. It will only make you time with her, should she choose you, more difficult."

Out of all the Maidens, only Glynda Goodwitch has ever remained. She had been a Fall Maiden once, twenty years ago. Nobody in town ever talked about what she was like before, but everyone who had known her agreed she was different. She largely keeps to herself now, sequestered in her house on the fringes of town. Nobody knows what she does, except that she is often gone without a trace.

Personally, Ruby thinks she is kind of cool, in a mysterious way. She has never spoken about about what happened in the tower, but she exudes the aura of someone otherworldly. She's the one who found her, years ago, when she'd gone too deep into the forest on her own; she'd returned her to her family, a few choice words and a basket of cookies in hand. Glynda is nice, but scary. She seems almost like a school teacher, between her severe gaze and tightly bound bun. Every time she talks, Ruby feels her back instinctively straighten.

"All of you, remember this. If you are chosen, if you become a Fall Maiden, you are not just doing it for yourself," Glynda prowls up and down the line as she speaks, straightening dresses and fixing hair, and giving them all an assessing look, "you are doing this for your town. To keep the people you love safe. Let that be your power, hold it close to your heart. In the end, that will be all you have. When you are gone, know that you are there for a reason, and let that keep you warm."

"In that tower, things will be different, you will be expected to do things and you will see things extraordinary," she says, and a sudden chill comes of Ruby, something about her words sinking deep into her bones. "She will not seek to harm you, but your life will be at her whim. To that end, I encourage you to maintain an open mind. You may be stuck there, but there is no reason to close yourself off. Take the opportunity, learn what you can. Your days will be very boring otherwise."

Ruby speaks, almost before she processes it. "What is the Fall Witch like?"

Glynda's eyes shoot to her. "That, I cannot say. I think it is better to make your own conclusions."

Without warning, Glynda takes a single, deep breath. Her eyes dip closed for a moment. "It's time," she announces, moving to the side, where she can preside over the Choosing. "Ready yourselves."

In the distance, on the horizon, there is a ripple of orange-red leaves—the namesake for which the Fall Witch draws her name. They drift down from the trees, green leaves changing to auburn, twining in an intricate dance. Between the whirlwind of leaves, a figure takes shape, a black shadow in the distance.

Ruby's stomach sinks into her feet, her knees trembling.

Just as suddenly as they begin, the leaves fall away.

There is no mistaking the Fall Witch, although she had been only eight years old at the time of the last Choosing. Even from a distance, she can make out the otherworldly curves and the provocative crimson dress she wears.

In the time it takes for the Witch to move from the horizon, as the town falls into pure silence, all Ruby can hear is the sound of her own heart beating. It is as loud as a thunder clap with each beat.

Tink. Tink Tink.

The heels the Witch wears echo loudly through the town square with each footfall. Up close, Ruby can see more of her. She has long black hair, molten-colored eyes. She looks pretty, flawless, like a painting. If you passed her in the street, she would look like any other girl. The only oddity about is the oddly shifting color of her eyes and the deep veins of gold, shifting and glowing like magma, moving through the edges of her dress.

There is a wave of unease that passes through all of them, as the Fall Witch's eyes scour across them. She sees the way Yang's shoulders tense in the corner of her eye. She hears Nora's huff, as whatever she wants to say is buried in the face of Glynda's warning glare behind them.

The Witch doesn't smile, doesn't speak, doesn't do anything but scour them with her eyes.

She can hear the townspeople's anxious chattering behind them, perhaps can even pick her own father's voice out among the terrified parents and siblings. But it all becomes white noise the moment those molten eyes drift away from Nora and meet her own.

Ruby swallows her squeak—she's sweating and not in a good way. The silent scrutiny, knowing that she's being assessed and valued, weighed against nine others, is awful. Not only that, the pressure of knowing that she could be chosen, taken away, to become the new Fall Maiden, is terrifying.

She loves Patch, she doesn't want to leave, especially not for ten years—she doesn't want to come back different, changed, unrecognizable to her family.

The eye contact is brief, fleeting.

The Witch moves on before she can really process it.

She manages to get out a single, deep breath, before the reality sets in. Her head swivels, follows the Witch as she moves, stops in front of Yang. There's a passing of something over the Witch's face, but it's gone before Ruby can even begin to decipher it.

"What's your name?"

"Yang Xiao Long!" Yang says it proudly, brightly, with none of the fear or apprehension that Ruby feels. She's always admired Yang's confidence, now more than ever.

There's a shine of interest in the Witch's eye, and the way she's looking at Yang is like a hungry predator. The heat to the look makes Ruby's heart jump, anxiousness and fear for her sister threading through her veins, and almost without a thought she moves.

Her hand finds Yang's, she steps closer; she's never been able to protect Yang before, she's never needed it, her sister's always been the protector, but she's never wanted anything as much as she wants to get the Witch's eyes off Yang.

The Witch's eyes dart to her, narrowed, almost angry; there's a heat in her gaze that has nothing to do with anger, though, it's something powerful.

"Ruby—" Yang barely gets the word out, before the Witch silences her with a glare.

The Witch slowly turns her eyes back to her. She locks eyes with her, sees her; her gaze pierces her, to her very soul. As if her burning eyes can see through all her defenses, her barricades, to find all of the weak, fleshy parts. She looks at her in a way that makes her entire being squirm.

Regardless, Ruby holds her gaze, eyes determined and mouth tight, the message in them clear—don't touch my sister.

She catches Glynda's gaze over the Witch's shoulder, spots a flash of something like surprise over her face. It's the closest she's ever come to looking ruffled.

The Witch looks down at her, smiles as sharp as a razor; she looked at Yang like a predator tracking prey, but she looks at Ruby like a cat that got the cream.

"You'll do."

No.

A ripple of noise passes through the crowd, and she thinks she hears her father's voice raise, but all she hears is white noise. Yang turns to her, eyes wide, talking urgently. Ruby doesn't process any of it. All she hears is her blood rushing in her veins and the sound of the Witch's quiet laughter, and she looks pleased.

"My choice is made," the Witch raises a hand, to call for silence. She looks to Glynda, something meaningful in her eyes, a message. "You have until midnight. I will return for her then."

Glynda inclines her head. "Of course."

The Witch looks at her, smirks, presses a hand to the side of her face.

"I will see you tonight, Little Rose."

Then the Witch is gone in a flourish of burning orange leaves.

This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't real…

In a surge of movement, the villagers close in around her in a circle. Her dad and uncle lead the charge, faces pale and urgently speaking.

Ruby doesn't see them. She stares into space, raises a shaking, pale hand. "She picked me?"

Dad seizes her by the shoulders, shakes her, tears streaming from his eyes. He's shouting, she knows, but it is distant.

Qrow's face appears beside Dad's, eyes dark.

To round off the circle, Yang closes in on other side, hand still clasped in Ruby's, and she looks equally incensed and anguished.

Her gaze darts between them, between her shouting family, wide-eyed and wild. She doesn't know what to do. She tries to find words, but fails. She's just gaping.

Glynda approaches, cuts through the noise and the cluster of relatives. She shoves Qrow and Yang aside, forcibly moves Dad from her. She takes the shell-shocked girl by the arms and looks deep into her eyes with sad green. "You stupid, foolish girl," she says, lips twisted in a frown, "you have no idea what you've just done."

"I'm sorry…" she croaks. "I just wanted to protect Yang."

"And you did," Glynda shakes her head. "But you sacrificed yourself instead."

Ruby's jaw works uselessly; she's struggling for words, for thought, for anything. She feels weightless, cast adrift in a turbulent sea. Ten years, she repeats to herself, belly churning, she'll be with the Witch for ten years—no family, no friends, no future, only an uncertain life, locked in a tower in the woods, kept at the mercy of a mysterious mage.

Glynda looks at her, something like understanding in her eyes (it makes sense, of course; she's probably the only person who can understand what Ruby's going through, about to go through). She links her arm through Ruby's, grip tight and guiding, and slowly leads her out of the chaos.

"Come, it's time to prepare."

Yang is furious.

Dad is in disbelief.

Uncle Qrow is quiet.

Once her father's initial crying and Yang's initial shouting fails to register, Ruby finds herself blindly shepherded to Glynda's home. On any other occasion, she would have been eager to finally see its interior (floor to ceiling book shelves, a quiet sitting room, a strange assortment of mirrors and artifacts on display), but right now she only feels numb.

Ruby is sitting tucked up on Glynda's arm chair, a blanket laid over her shoulders and a cup of tea in her hand that she isn't drinking—her stomach is roiling, threatening to rebel, and she can't bring herself to choke down the hot drink.

"What were you thinking?!" Yang shouts, and her eyes are blazing. "Why did you do that? You weren't going to be chosen! You would have been safe!"

Ruby stares up at her mutely, unblinking; shock is a funny thing, mutes the pain, the anguish, even the heat of Yang's tone feels like little more than a sunburn, slightly abrasive.

"Ten years, Ruby! Ten years of your life! I was prepared to give that up!" Yang screams, undeterred by her silence. "We both know it should have been me! It was going to be me! Why did you do that, Ruby? Answer me!"

Glynda stands at Ruby's back, places a hand on her shoulder. "Miss Xiao Long, calm down."

"Calm down? Calm down?!" Yang returns, and her lilac eyes seem almost edged with red. "How can I be calm! My sister just threw her life away! For what?!"

"To protect you, Miss Xiao Long."

Suddenly, the rage putters out. Yang stares at her, blinking, mouth opening and closing. "I—what—that's not the point!" Yang bites the words out. "I'm ready for this! Ruby isn't!"

Glynda stares at her, unblinking. "In light of today's events, I believe Miss Rose is more prepared than you would have ever been."

"Wha—"

"The will to protect those you love is powerful, Miss Xiao Long. More powerful than you can ever imagine," she shakes her head, pushes her glasses further up her nose. "Miss Rose's love for her family is the purest, strongest kind of magic, and the Witch can sense that. There's nothing more powerful than an act of sacrifice made in the name of protecting those you hold dear."

"I was protecting her," Yang fists her hands into her dress, her expression torn between angry and broken-hearted. "It was going to be me. She was going to be safe! She could have had a life."

"Perhaps, but you already accepted it would be you a long time ago, Miss Xiao Long. You may have thought you were protecting her, but reluctant resignation is not the same as a pure sacrifice," Glynda squeezes Ruby's shoulder again, grounding her. "Miss Rose, consciously or not, chose to intercede on your behalf. And she made herself a target in your lieu."

As the gravity of what Ruby did settles with her, all the rage and the ire leaves Yang. The fire fades from her eyes, and she just looks exhausted, older than her twenty-one years. With a deep, heartrending sigh, Yang wobbles uncertainly over to the sofa, draws Ruby into hug.

The contact startles Ruby back into consciousness, restarts the skipping record in her head. "Yang, I—"

Yang's fingers thread through the back of her hair. "It was supposed to be me," she whispers, so soft and so sad, "you were going to be fine."

Ruby's eyes brim with water, but she can't cry. She loops her arms around Yang's back, squeezes her tight. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's okay," Yang's voice is thick, choked. "I understand. I hate that you did it, but I understand."

There's a sob from across the room which draws Ruby's eyes, and her gaze finds her dad. He's crumpled against a bookshelf, face pressed into his hands.

"Dad," she calls, extracting herself from Yang's grip, from the chair. Her legs wobble and she stumbles gracelessly forward a little before she finds her footing. She surges forward, swallows away the thickness in her throat, and crouches in front of her father. "Dad, look at me."

Taiyang lets out another sob, a choking, heaving, desperate sound.

"Dad, please," she reaches forward, cups his face, slowly pulls his palms away from his face.

Slowly, Taiyang looks at her. His eyes are bloodshot and still watering, tears slipping freely, wetting his cheeks and Ruby's hands. He takes a shuddery breath.

"I love you, Dad. I'll always love you, that won't change," she tells him, leaning forward, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. "And I'll be fine, you don't have to worry about me. You…you taught me how to be strong."

He's crying still, harder even, and his hands close over hers—his hands are calloused from farm work, but warm and familiar. "I don't want to lose you," he chokes, "first your mother and now—"

She shakes her head, cuts him off. "Don't think like that," she tells him, severe, "I'm coming back, Dad. You'll see. I'll be back before you know it, and we can finally go on that trip to Vale we always talked about."

Taiyang laughs, but it's halfhearted, sad. "Is it too late to run?"

For as strong as he is, Ruby knows that Taiyang is a fractured man, splintered and broken by the absence of his first wife and the death of his second. He's never been the same since Mom died. It took months of Yang, Uncle Qrow and the townspeople prompting him before he did more than curl up in his bed and cry. He's pulled himself back together over the years, she knows, but she knows that something shattered once is easily broken again.

She doesn't want to see her father succumb to that dark place again, doesn't want him to crumble. She's not entirely sure he'll ever recover again, if he breaks a third time. It frightens her, almost as much as the idea of leaving does.

But she must do this, she has to go. Patch needs to be protected, and witches are in short supply, especially those powerful enough to protect an entire town alone. She can't let Patch fall to Grimm.

"Afraid so," Ruby can feel the tears building in her own eyes, "tell Zwei I said goodbye, okay? And that I love him."

"Outshone by a dog, again," Taiyang laughs through his tears, a little lighter this time, and brings her into a bear hug. He buries his face in her hair, takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I love you, kiddo. Remember that. You ever need me, I'll be there. Not even a witch can stop your old man."

"I know, Dad," she replies, muffled into his chest. "Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it."

Her words are lighter, prettier than she feels. The coils of dread in her stomach only grow as she glances up, towards the massive grandfather clock in the corner. Ten minutes until midnight, she realizes, ten minutes until the witch returns.

Taiyang looks at her, his eyes soft. "You're just like your mother, you know," the words are bittersweet, "you're just as brave and kind as she was."

Ruby's throat feels thick. "Dad…"

Glynda is also watching the clock, and it is her voice that finally breaks through their moment. "It is almost time, Ruby," she says, the words soft but firm. "It's time to say your final goodbyes."

Dad squeezes her harder, tighter, until her ribs threaten to crack under his mammoth strength. But she doesn't complain, doesn't cry out like normal. This is it, this is happening, and she'll enjoy their last hug before the moment comes.

"Stay safe, Dad," she whispers, quaking, into his chest.

There's a shuffle of moment, and Ruby looks up.

Uncle Qrow stands over them, eyes unreadable. "I'll take care of your old man," Qrow tells her, gently prying Taiyang's arms away from her, helping Ruby to stand. "Don't you worry, kid."

She leans up into him instead, hugging her uncle. He's been there for them for as long as she can remember, as much a parental figure as her dad. Her heart aches at the thought of leaving him, too, because he's always been her biggest hero, the one she's idolized and followed the most.

He smells like alcohol, reeks of it really; it smells familiar, comforting, like a warm blanket laid over her in winter, and she realizes it smells like home.

"I'll miss you, Uncle Qrow."

He lets out a low, bitter noise. "You don't have to do this, you know," the threads of a well-worn argument coming back, "you're not some damn human sacrifice."

"I do," she says, resolute to her very bones. "To keep everyone safe."

"I know people in Vale, I could try and pull some strings, get some guards in the town, maybe—"

"It would never be enough," Ruby interjects softly, looking up into her uncle's eyes, seeing the desperation in them. She plasters on a bright smile. "Don't worry so hard, Uncle Qrow, you'll get more wrinkles."

He lets out a huff. "Brat," he grumbles, but his arms finally close around her shoulders—he's never been one for affection, for casual touch, but she knows this is his way of saying he'll miss her. "It'll be a lot quieter around here without you."

Ruby grins. "Don't worry, you'll still have Yang to keep things interesting. Maybe she'll burn down Mr. Opal's barn again."

"Hey! That was one time!"

He lets out a weary sigh. "Stay safe, kid. And remember what I taught you."

She thinks back to their days in the forest, tracking game through the woods; he'd taught her everything she knew about tracking, hunting and gathering, he'd taught her how to use a knife and how to skin an animal. Uncle Qrow had taught her how to defend herself, too.

"Watch my back?"

"That's my girl," he laughs, a gravelly rumble against her. "Give 'er hell, alright? If she expects a pushover from this family, she's got another thing coming."

A rush of fondness overcomes her, and she hugs Uncle Qrow harder, wraps him in as much of her as her short arms can reach. He may not be her blood uncle, but he's her uncle in all the ways that count, and she can't imagine her life without him. The prospect of life without him, without Yang and Dad and any of her friends, leaves her hollow and aching.

"You better still be here when I get back," she mumbles into his chest. "Or I'll drag you back from the afterlife myself."

He pats her head once, then lets her go. "I'm not that old. I've still got a few decades left in me yet."

"Good, keep it that way," she commands. "Stay safe, Uncle Qrow. Keep an eye out for everyone."

Uncle Qrow shrugs, gives her that cocky smirk of his. "When haven't I?"

Suddenly, Glynda interrupts them, gesturing to the clock—less than a minute until midnight. "Are you ready, Miss Rose?"

Ruby turns to her, biting at her lip. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Glynda nods. "Good," her mouth opens, hesitates, "don't forget your family, Miss Rose, or the people that care for you. We will certainly never forget you."

The words confuse her momentarily, because of course she will never forget her family—they're all she has, she loves them dearly, she will miss them more than she's ever missed anything. But before she has the time to do anything more than frown, the clock chimes with the sound of midnight.

"It's time."

The Witch arrives.

Up close and indoors, the gathering of leaves is even more beautiful. Without trees to provide the leaves, they slowly appear from the air, orange-red leaves manifesting into a slowly weaving dance. They rustle against each other, a slow drift slowly increasing in speed, until the leaves whirl and twirl faster than she can see, blurring.

Abruptly, a figure steps from them.

Ruby wilts a little as she catches sight of the Fall Witch, some of the resolve ebbing out of her in the face of her new…whatever she is. But she still stands as tall as her small stature lets her, plastering on a brave face, chin up and eyes narrowed slightly—as much for the Witch as it is for her family.

The Fall Witch looks at beautiful as Ruby's hazy, adrenaline-filled memory allows. Even more so, actually. She's dressed much the same, in crimson and gold, but her lips are tinted a deep ruby and there's a red jewel threaded around her neck.

"Well, well," the Fall Witch murmurs, voice soft but somehow loud as a shout in the stifling room; she's looking at Glynda, eyes burning, "what a welcoming party."

Yang stands abruptly from the couch, as Dad struggles to his feet. Uncle Qrow doesn't blink, but he does tilt his head at her, eyes narrowed, hand drifting towards his belt, where his sword normally rests.

Glynda doesn't move, but she's tense by Ruby's side, arms folded tightly behind her. "We are ready."

The Fall Witch smiles, slow and something like amused; she looks like the cat that got the canary, and the thought sends ice down Ruby's spine. "Excellent," the tone of her voice is like honey, sickly sweet, and she slowly turns her head to Ruby, smile sharpening, "so you are."

Ruby looks back at her, holds her gaze steady, although she feels distinctly nauseous.

When Ruby doesn't respond, the Witch's eyes narrow a little on her. She steps forward, glass heels making soft 'tink' noises against the stone floor. Tink, tink, tink. She moves forward, until she's close enough that Ruby can smell the scent of her perfume (something musky, rich). She reaches a hand up, rests it again on Ruby's cheek.

"Are you ready?" she asks, fingertips tracing the curve of Ruby's neck. "Speak up, Little Rose."

She shivers at the touch, licks her lips. "Yes…"

The woman lets out a low laugh, the sound smokey, cultured. "Come, then. It is time to go," she pats Ruby's cheek softly, then releases her. "Say your final goodbyes."

Yang, Dad, even Uncle Qrow, gather her into one final hug. Ruby's heart aches for them, to go back to their home and sleep for a thousand years. She feels worn, wrung out. Tears drip down her cheeks, spot Uncle Qrow's shoulder.

Ruby has never been the strongest person, the bravest person, the best person—honestly, she still can't fully process why the Fall Witch picked her, beyond a simple mistake—but she knows she will need to pretend to be all of these things. To reassure her family, to survive whatever it is that goes on in that tower, she needs to be strong, stronger than she's ever been.

"I love you guys," she says, feather soft, slowly letting them go. "I'll be back soon, don't worry."

A hand settles on her shoulder, burning with the warmth of a wildfire. Without the protection of her cloak, the familiar weight of her mother's final gift, the feel burns through to the very core of her being.

"Come, then. It's time to go."

Ruby's eyes water, her hands fist at her sides, as she looks across her family's faces. They look torn apart, broken, their smiles more fragile than she's ever seen, and it makes her heart ache to see them like that.

Yang's eyes burn, narrow, glaring. "I don't know what you do in that tower," she hisses at the Fall Witch, fists clenched, bone-white at her side, "but if you ever hurt her, we will come after you."

A delicate eyebrow raises. "Is that a threat?"

"That's a promise."

"You would have been a good choice, Yang Xiao Long," she says, eyes like molten fire. Her hand comes to rest on Ruby's head, pets her like a dog, as she smirks over the top of it. "But I think I like this one even better."

Ruby shivers, makes a strangled sound, at the touch.

"You b—"

"That's enough, Miss Xiao Long," Glynda says, stern, silencing Yang with a fierce expression. "You have made your point."

The Witch's lip quirks. "Ah, Glynda, so dependable," she sings, ignores the way the other woman bristles, spine straightening and mouth setting in a stern line. "You always were one of my favorites."

Glynda looks away from the molten gaze, to the clock ticking on the wall; there's an odd expression on her face, something torn between anger and longing. "You should leave, Cinder."

The Witch lets out a low, ghost of a laugh. There is a spike of heat at Ruby's back, and the hand goes from petting her head to gripping tightly around her wrist. "Of course," the way she says it is mocking, edged, "it's time to get my new pet settled in, is it not?"

Before Ruby can do more than squeak at the tight grip, a flurry of red light and autumn leaves swirls around them, faster and faster. It feels odd, warm, ebbing and flowing. It makes her nauseous, makes her stomach roil and her head ache.

"Ruby!" the shout comes from her father, voice high and tight.

She shakes her head, even though he can't see it, and swallows down the sickness in her throat. "I'll be okay! I love you!"

"I love you, too—"

And then, just like that, they're gone.

This was inspired by the novel by Naomi Novik, Uprooted. I haven't read the entirety of the book, but this story only borrows the idea of the 'Dragon' and the Choosing, after that it is going to be my own plot development.

This was originally going to be my Nanowrimo for 2016, but I fell off the wagon after around 6000 words. I just picked it back up today, and thought it was a shame to keep it as a WIP.