I'm sure I'm not the first to tell you about the tragedy that has befallen us, but it must be addressed nonetheless. Monty Oum was far too brilliant, and far too young, to leave us so soon—but the afterlife probably wanted his talents for itself, and we mere mortals aren't exactly capable of arguing with it.

That said, if any of you are game, I'd like to petition the heavens to give him back.

But in the event that such a petition should fail, as undoubtedly it will, the others at RoosterTeeth asked us to do something creative in Monty's honor, and to use our imaginations to make the world a better place. I don't know how much good one story can do, but I'll certainly do my best to live up to that task from here on out.

I've noticed that many a dedicated fan is doing the same, and I feel unbelievably lucky to be a member of such a compassionate fandom. Tonight, I write to expand the archive of tributes. However, this chapter does not mourn his death, but rather celebrates the life he breathed into every one of us.

Here's to Monty Oum, and to the incredible inspiration he has offered us all!

4:34 a.m.

Nora didn't usually wake up in the middle of the night, but then, she also didn't usually get nightmares. In fact, this one was probably her first since she came to Beacon, because here, she had Ren to comfort her and scare away the shadows…

Except no she didn't, sneered said shadows, curling around her like twin King Taijitu. Ren was gone—Ren was gone and nothing could bring him back and no one could replace him and the world had ended. Nora's breath caught at the memory of his death; her eyes burned, her throat burned, her very heart burned and no antacid could cure it this time.

She lay there, trembling in the cold darkness, and hugged her arms around herself for warmth; even with all her covers, she couldn't shake this discomfort. Her body felt all tingly, but not in a good way; it was more like every hair she had was standing at attention. Like she had goosebumps.

Wait, why were they called goosebumps, anyway?

No—that didn't matter right now. Being by herself was scary, and in the moonlit silence, it was all too easy for Nora to believe that she was utterly alone. But she knew Ren was right there next to her; she had only to part her salt-sticky eyelids, and then she would see him. Right? Right…

As Nora blinked them open and took in the sight of her bed-buddy, however, they widened in lingering terror. She had stolen all Ren's blankets as usual; now only a single sheet covered him… like a cadaver. Unable to suppress a whimper at the very idea, Nora helplessly let out a ragged coughlike breath and scrambled over to the other half of the bed.

"Ren," she whispered, distraught, and shook his shoulder. He was cold, he was cold, he was so cold—and even while he was falling into that horrible hole, farther down than down could possibly go, he had smiled up at Nora like it was going to be okay—but it wasn't going to be okay because he would never taste syrup or chocolate (or her lips) again, and—"Ren!"

"Nora?" he mumbled, turning towards her, and she could see him frown. "What are you—?" The sentence was cut off as she squeezed him more tightly than she ever had before, clutching at his back: only as her fingernails dug into his skin did Nora remember that he wore no pajamas, and though he tensed and yelped, she didn't have enough control over her body to relax her fingers.

As she buried her face in his chest, sobbing softly, she felt Ren force himself to relax—as usual, nowadays—and he finally slid one arm around her back and used the other to support her head, running his other fingers through her hair. Nora clung to him more tightly still in response to his gentle touch, desperately listening to the sweet strong aliveness of his heartbeat pulsing steadily under her ear.

"What happened?" asked Ren in a low and concerned voice, after a long pause, and Nora shook her head into his chest, scooting impossibly closer to him. She needed more than anything just to be at his side and feel him, to hold him in her arms and never let him go, because what if this was the dream and the Taijitu was right and Ren was gone forever and—?

"Nightmare?" he interrupted, after a hesitation, and Nora nodded tentatively, surprised that he was even asking; she expected him to just roll over again, and try and go back to sleep. After all, that's what Rens do when you wake them so early in the morning that the day still thinks it's night—but…

He shifted in place, gently putting an inch or so of distance between them, but Nora immediately closed it again, and he sighed, his wonderfully warm breath stirring her hair faintly. "Do you… need to talk?" murmured Ren, his lips brushing briefly against her forehead, and this time, he didn't move them away.

Nora swallowed, trying to translate her whirling thoughts into words. "You d-didn't fall, right?" she asked, her voice constricted and tremulous, but she didn't bother to try clearing her throat of all this troublesome sadness; it wouldn't come out until it was good and ready, and it wouldn't be good and ready until she knew it would be okay. "You're… still alive? You're not going to leave me?"

"I'm not going to leave you, I promise," Ren assured her quietly, and she sniffled, smiling as another wave of tears made their appearance. But these ones were happy; these ones were salty like caramel and seawater, not like blood and sweat—because Ren never broke his vows. "I'll always be right here."

He stirred in her arms, slowly disentangling his fingers from her hair, and she made a faint noise of protest—but he rested those long beautiful fingers carefully over her heart, and she quieted as her aura stabilized, her tears stopping. "Always," he added, barely audibly, and did not move his hand.

There was a long and comfortable silence while Nora got used to breathing again, and she could feel Ren start relaxing back into slumber, but she couldn't let him leave her conscious while he slept; he said he wouldn't leave her—

"Sing me a lullaby," she whispered hoarsely.

There was a terrifying moment of lonely silence before Ren responded, sounding as though he was pulling himself up out of sleep as deep as the abyss. "I can't sing, Nora," he sighed.

Nora bit her lip; that was no good. She'd already woken him up a few hours early—she couldn't possibly ask him to do the impossible as well… but she could at least ask him to do the improbable. "Then tell me a story," she amended, pressing her face closer against his chest. "Please?"

Ren cleared his throat, but said nothing for a long time; Nora was about to ask again, half-afraid that he had gone to sleep—but then she discovered that the improbable was evidently even harder than the impossible, because then he started humming a tune that might have been 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'.

It didn't matter that the tune was definitely off-key, or that there were no words put to it; what she needed was simply the sound of his voice. (If Nora had wanted a perfect rendition, she'd have gone to Team RWBY's room to wake Weiss, though at this hour she supposed she would probably get a rapier in the gut instead.)

Nora let out a congested but contented sigh, exhaustion crashing down on her like a sudden wave; her hold on him weakened, but he did not move away, merely continued his wordless song. It's often said that it's darkness that envelops you when you lose consciousness—but Nora stubbornly rejected this idea, because for her, it was purest light.

There was no room for the shadows amid Ren's continuing tune. His voice, constant and steady, was a reminder that he was there now, and he would still be there when she awakened. He promised, after all.

Always, she remembered, smiling into his chest, and fell asleep.